"There you are," she said, giving Harry's fake wand to Hermione and vice-versa. At least she got Draco's right. As Harry traded with Hermione, he tried not to look too annoyed over the whole thing.
"Well, thank you for visiting," Emmeleia finished, the words clearly a dismissal.
Fine by Harry. He was more than ready to leave, by then.
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On Monday, Draco began complaining that since Harry's lessons were over, he wouldn't see enough of Rhiannon unless they all went to free swim every day.
Harry had no real objection to that. He liked spending time at the pool, especially since now, he could swim as many laps as he felt like instead of the number Roger demanded. He raced Draco a few times, and then both of them raced Severus. It was all great fun, particularly after one of their races degenerated into a water fight.
Severus ended up looking slightly like a drowned rat; the wet look really didn't suit him.
Draco, in contrast, could somehow come across as suave and elegant even when dripping wet. He clearly knew it, too. Harry lost count of the times he preened when Rhiannon happened to be looking their way.
In another sense, though, Harry couldn't help but think that Draco's concern over his appearance was a bit sad, really. He kept applying and re-applying his special sunscreen, and not just to protect his fair skin; he was also making sure that the glamour charmed into it would stay active and keep the scar on his chest hidden.
Harry thought that if Rhiannon really loved him, she wouldn't mind the fact that Draco had a burn mark. Yeah, it was large, but it wasn't such a big deal. Harry had seen it loads of times by then and to him, it just looked like an expanse of puckered skin.
Draco was clearly self-conscious about it, though, and made sure to keep it entirely hidden from his girlfriend.
On Wednesday night, Harry could hardly contain his excitement. Finally, his birthday was close enough to almost reach out and grab. And not just any birthday, but the most important one of all.
Seventeen, at long last. It was all Harry could do not to whoop. He'd finally be an adult. He could get his Apparition license. He could stop worrying that one of his wandless spells would make people wonder why his underage magic wasn't being detected.
Casting Tempus, Harry saw that it was gone eleven, already.
"Well, I'm knackered," said Draco, closing his book with a snap. He sounded a bit like he thought Harry's spell had been some kind of hint. Or maybe not, since he was standing up and stretching. "Bed for me, I think."
"That'll teach you to try to out-fly me after dinner."
"Try, nothing, Potter. I did out-fly you," said Draco, his chin lifted slightly. "And what's more, it didn't exhaust me in the slightest. I happen to be tired because I've finally finished every last ethics book Severus can lay his hands on."
"Oh, I'm quite certain I can find more."
"Very funny--"
"Don't go to bed, yet," interrupted Harry. "Or you, Dad. Be nice to have company this time when I stay up for my birthday. Besides, I want to see it when your burden lifts, Dad."
"You aren't a burden."
Harry grinned again. "Good to hear. I still want to see it, though."
"I doubt there will be much to see," said Snape in an odd tone.
Harry laughed. "Well, I'm not expecting you to turn purple--"
"You always stay up for your birthday?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "If I didn't know better, I'd suspect you were hinting that you'd like your presents tonight instead of waiting until morning."
"You're just sore that I'm waiting until your real birthday to give you your present."
"As is Dad, I presume," said Draco with an arch look towards Snape.
As hints went, that one was so blatant that Harry almost felt like cringing. Snape, however, just curled his lips in a smile that somehow looked sly and mysterious all at once.
"You'll just have to wait and wonder, won't you? But you won't be alone. Harry won't be getting a present tonight, either. I plan to celebrate his birthday on the correct day."
"Hey, after midnight it is the thirty-first. Ron and Hermione usually send me things then, and I'd open them late at night." Harry glanced over at the charmed box on the table. "I don't know about this year, though. I suppose there might be a delay in the post."
"No doubt," said Snape, his hair swaying as he nodded. "And while you are correct about when the thirty-first commences, midnight isn't conducive to the birthday plans I have in mind."
Oh. Plans. Harry wasn't sure why that should touch him so much. After all, Snape wasn't the kind of father who would fail to mark his birthday. Still, Harry felt almost like he'd just been tucked between a pair of warm, soft, fuzzy blankets.
Draco, on the other hand, was looking a little bit sour. No wonder, too. He was seventeen already, but Snape hadn't done a thing to recognise Draco's passage into the adult world. Not his fault, of course, considering the way Draco had changed his birthday to a date already past. Still, though, Harry couldn't blame Draco for feeling a little left out.
But maybe Snape was intending to wait until Draco's original birth date rolled around. That made a kind of sense, Harry supposed.
"So, plans," said Draco suddenly, his voice full of forced cheer. "Do tell, Severus."
Harry appreciated the effort, he really did. That was brotherly love right there, that Draco wasn't going to let his own jealousy or disappointment ruin Harry's birthday.
"I thought we'd go somewhere together for dinner."
"Sounds good." Harry almost made a joke then, about going back to the fancy seafood restaurant, but with Draco feeling a bit put out already . . . no, better not.
Draco's thoughts, though, seemed to be leaning in the same direction. "Let's avoid any restaurant that could be termed merveilleuse," he said, slanting Harry a droll glance.
"How about Draco picks?" suggested Harry, feeling really quite bad by then that he hadn't already given Draco a birthday present. So what if he'd sort of assumed they'd do any celebrating on Draco's original birth date? Clearly, that had been the wrong way to go about things. Draco had turned seventeen already, and neither his father nor brother had done anything special to mark the occasion.
Just the thought of it left Harry feeling like a bit of a heel.
"Actually, my plans are already rather well set," said Snape, tucking a long strand of hair back behind an ear. "Not to worry. I doubt you'll be disappointed."
Harry smiled and nodded, but he still felt bad for Draco, even if the other boy had brought this all on himself. "How about a game of Wizard's Scrabble, to pass the time, then?"
"We didn't bring it--"
"Accio Wizard's Scrabble," said Snape, flicking his wand. "I brought it back, the last time I stopped by the castle."
"I really am too knackered."
"Your E's can be worth five points, then," said Harry. "But no slang allowed. Not from anybody."
"Oh, very well . . ."
Draco's voice sounded long-suffering, but that was just for show. Harry could tell. As soon as the game really got underway, he became as competitive and focussed as ever. No wonder, though; this time, Snape wasn't holding back at all, and he really did have a vocabulary that could put most dictionaries to shame.
When a slight vibration in Harry's pocket told him that midnight was fast approaching, he pulled his wand out and whispered at it in Parseltongue, then grinned. "Charmed it to sort of . . . buzz, at two minutes to midnight."
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Impressive."
Snape cast a special sort of time-spell then, one that made a ghostly clock appear and hover in the air. At first, the hands didn't appear to be moving at all, but then the minute hand inched over a tiny bit.