"So, Harry, what's keeping you busy this summer?" asked Piers with a throaty laugh as he sat down in the remaining easy chair and angled his hips into what looked like a languid pose.
Harry kept his eyes averted. After the last time here, he didn't want to say or do anything that would give Piers the idea that Harry could remotely stand him. "Swimming lessons," he said shortly.
A low chuckle. "Swimming lessons, really? But you're already grown-up. From the look of things, into quite a fit young man--"
Harry almost squirmed at the oily way those last three words were delivered.
Snape, in contrast, sat up stiffly, his hands clenching on the glass he'd yet to drink from.
Piers didn't seem to recognise the danger he was courting. His simpering expression didn't change. "And how are you liking your swimming lessons, Harry? Getting a nice tan, are you?" His gaze settled on Harry's lower half. "Trunks, or briefs?"
"Your questions are intrusive and overly personal, Mr. Polkiss," Snape said coldly.
Piers just laughed again, the sound low enough to grate on Harry's nerves. "Oh, but Harry and I are old friends, aren't we?"
"No," said Harry shortly. Perhaps the telly being on was a good thing; he pretended some interest in the news programme Draco was still watching. It was pretty depressing stuff, though: information about a child recently reported missing in Dungannon.
Ignoring him had the effect of shutting Piers up, though, so Harry kept watching the gloomy news report.
Thankfully, Dudley came in just a few minutes later. "Harry, Draco, Professor Snape! How good to see you!" His gaze swept across them. "I see Piers has been making you comfortable--"
"In truth, he's done the opposite," said Snape before Harry could get a word in. "Your flatmate has abominable manners."
"This lot hasn't got much of a sense of humour," protested Piers. "A spot of friendly teasing between me and Harry, Duds, that's all it was."
Dudley's eyes narrowed, which in his over-fat face made them look a little piggish. He looked a lot like Vernon Dursley in that moment, and sounded like him, too. But considering what he said, Harry didn't really mind.
"If you can't be polite to Harry, you'd better find another place to live, Piers! He's going to be coming over just as often as he pleases, and I won't have him made less than welcome, I won't. Got that? I mean it -- one more complaint and you'll be out on your ear!"
Piers jumped to his feet and folded his arms across his chest. "I notice Harry hasn't complained, just his father. Though why somebody his age would need to be adopted is an interesting question--"
"You're really stupid if you think so," said Dudley fiercely. "And anyway, Harry's not much for whingeing about things, but if Professor Snape thought you were out of line, that's good enough for me."
A slight clicking noise announced that Draco had figured out how to switch off the television. "Perhaps we should just leave," he said, each syllable clipped. He must have been paying attention to more than the telly, by the end, there.
As if on cue, Snape and Draco stood up together; Harry, a scant second later.
"Sure," said Dudley. "Er . . . just got in, though. I'll be back down in a moment."
Harry heard him the stairs groaning a little as Dudley lumbered up them.
Piers, as if determined to prove he was as stupid as Dudley had claimed, gave them all a rather nasty smile. Harry thought it was the first sincere expression he'd worn since they'd arrived. Or maybe it just suited his ratlike features. "Well, well. You used to run away from your battles, but at least you didn't let other people fight them for you."
Harry glared. "What I do or don't do is no business of yours."
Draco's voice was equally low and angry as he came to stand beside Harry. "You don't know what you're talking about. And you sure as fuck don't know whom you're talking to--"
"Enough, Draco," said Snape in a level voice. "Mr Polkiss, we will wait outside for Dudley."
Harry thought his father had handled everything pretty calmly, considering, but that was before Piers' face ended up drenched with Diet Coke as they passed him. Snape had been the only one still holding his glass.
Outside, Harry was torn between bursting into laughter and pulling his father into a tight hug, but both impulses dropped away from him when he caught the way Snape was glaring at Draco.
"An accident," Draco was saying, though his eyes were twinkling. "You know, impulse control."
"That sort of accident is for children without proper schooling, not adults going into their final year of it!"
"It's not as though the windows all shattered, Severus."
"It also wasn't any form of accident, was it?" asked Snape, his voice lashing out like a whip.
Harry saw Draco give his wand, thrust deep in his pocket, a little wiggle. "No, sir. But nobody is going to investigate a small splash like that. I am of age."
"Harry's cousin is going to believe that I threw a beverage at his flatmate!"
That seemed to be the real issue, for Snape. Which touched Harry, in a way. He knew that his father didn't usually care what people thought of him, though ever since Rhiannon's reluctant comment at the pool, he had been keeping his hair marginally cleaner. That was for Draco's sake, Harry knew. And now, this concern over what Dudley might think . . . it wasn't about Dudley at all, really.
Harry smiled at his father as he lightly touched his arm. "It'll be all right, Dad."
Sure enough, when Dudley came out a few minutes later, wearing a different shirt--his other had looked a bit soiled--he didn't say anything about the incident. But then, he probably didn't know about it. Would Piers have mentioned it, knowing that Dudley very well might assume Piers had said something else offensive, knowing that Dudley might then proceed to make good on his threat? To kick Piers out?
Harry's smile widened. How could it not? He liked the idea that Dudley would go that far, if it would mean that Harry felt more comfortable visiting. Which reminded him.
"Dudley . . . that thing you said last time about sharing expenses with Piers . . . er . . ." Harry's attempt to be generous ground to a halt, because he'd suddenly remembered how badly Draco had reacted when Harry had offered money. Then again, once Draco had understood that they really were family, his whole attitude had changed.
Dudley was unlocking the driver side door to the blue sedan in the driveway, but he paused to glance up at Harry. "What of it?"
Harry swallowed. He probably should check with his father, he knew, before saying this, since he didn't even have his own vault key, but . . . too late now. "Oh. Um, well, if you kick him out on my account that might leave you a little short, money-wise, and I wanted to say, wanted you to understand . . . um, well, I could help you out, you know. If you needed it . . ."
Dudley opened the car door and reached around to unlock the one behind it. "How's that? Aren't you still in school for another whole year?"
Oh, no . . . Harry felt a small pang of dismay at that. All that time he'd spent with Dudley, back in Snape's quarters, and he'd never mentioned? He just hoped Dudley didn't get too upset with him. "Um, yes, but I inherited quite a lot of money from my father."
Dudley's gaze drifted to Snape, but he wasn't quite as thick as that. "Oh, you mean the other one. I thought he was unemployed, though? And an alcoholic, and--"
Draco made a noise that sounded very slightly like a growl.
"That's all slander," said Harry, carefully keeping his voice calm. Once, not so very long ago, comments like that would have sparked his temper, but the plain truth was that Dudley didn't know any better. "Your parents didn't like my father. I'm dead sure you can guess why."