Really, it was pretty boring to watch.
Draco leaned toward his father and whispered his question. "Why didn't you arrange for normal swimming lessons for Harry? You know. The kind I had." He meant with a proper wizard for an instructor, so the whole process could be helped along through the use of magic. This seemed undignified in contrast. Harry was actually sputtering, now.
Severus leaned back a little and laced his fingers together.
Which meant he needed prompting. "Well?"
The man slanted him a glance. "If you taunt Harry with this you'll get worse than lines. I mean it."
"Oh." Draco felt a little hurt by that. When had he taunted Harry? When lately, that was? Well, he supposed he did like to make it clear how little he thought of the werewolf, but that was mostly because he was worried about his mother. But then again, he probably shouldn't be. Narcissa Malfoy could take care of herself. Ha, she might already have figured out the whole thing and was keeping quiet for reasons of her own. She wanted to be on Draco's side, after all. And she hadn't been able to, not properly, while Lucius was alive and fully capable of denouncing her to the Dark Lord.
Draco got his mind back onto what Severus had just said. "If you think I'm low enough to taunt Harry with the fact that you could have arranged better lessons than this, then you haven't been paying proper attention," he said in his haughtiest voice. "We might not get on all the time, but I don't particularly want to hurt him. If I did, there's no end of things I could bring up."
Severus actually reached out and patted his leg, which Draco thought rather patronising. On the other hand, he also sort of liked it, so he didn't glare or anything.
"I've noticed that, Draco," said the man in a soothing voice. "And Harry himself recently remarked something similar."
All at once, Draco felt uncomfortable. "You want to watch that alliteration," he said, to cover it.
Severus gave his leg one last pat, as if to say that he wasn't fooled.
Draco frowned, only slowly realising that something wasn't right. Severus might not be as wealthy as his sons were, but he wasn't exactly knocking on the poorhouse door, either. "Er... why didn't you arrange better lessons, though?"
Severus flicked a glance at Draco. "I don't think your brother realises this himself, but to Harry these lessons are about more than swimming. It seems to me that what he really wants it to make up for lost time."
It took Draco a moment to follow that line of thought. But then he nodded. "I see... It's like with those biscuits. Harry wanted them because he couldn't have any when he was little."
Severus' features softened slightly. "Exactly. And the kind of lessons you had just wouldn't be the same."
"Did Marsha explain all this to you, or did you reason it out on your own?"
"You doubt my insight into my own son's psyche?"
Draco chuckled. "I don't doubt your ability to dodge a question."
A slight smile ghosted over Severus' features. "I usually have to go without Slytherin banter over the summers."
Clearly, he liked hearing some now. And that made Draco feel warm inside. Yeah, Severus made it clear in a lot of ways that he loved Harry, and even liked him, but he'd never really be able to get on with him the way he could with another Slytherin. No matter that Harry had almost been sorted that way and that he was an honorary Slytherin, these days. It just wasn't the same. Harry was unmistakably Gryffindor.
But Draco was used to that, so he didn't let it bother him.
"You're a good father," he said, quietly, looking down at his own hands.
"To you both, I should hope."
They sat in silence then, both of them merely watching Harry's lesson. Boring wasn't even the word, Draco quickly decided. That Roger bloke was having Harry practice putting his face in the water, now. Harry was blowing bubbles. Talk about undignified.
Draco lost track of that thought when a streak of red beyond the pool caught his eye. He glanced up instinctively to see a girl walking past, her swim suit a modest one-piece, though cut rather high in the leg. Draco almost whistled.
A moment later, he was profoundly glad he hadn't.
"How many times do I have to tell you?" called a tall, thin man who emerged from a doorway labelled Pool Office. "Ten o'clock sharp, Rhiannon!"
Rhiannon? Draco's heart did a flip inside his chest. Leaning forward, he peered more closely at the girl in the distance. Honey-blonde hair worked into a long braid that fell down her back... it could be her, but Draco couldn't be sure. She looked a little different now that she wasn't wearing her Queen of the Night costume.
If it was her, that was.
Draco turned to Severus. "You have this pretty well in hand, I think. Er... is it all right if I wander 'round a bit?"
The sardonic look in Severus' eyes said he wasn't fooled, but he gestured for Draco to go.
Draco dusted himself off as he stood, and sauntered toward the girl, taking the long way so he could figure out what to say to her. By then, she'd unlocked the gate where the small children had been waiting, and had sat down in a ridiculously high chair. Harry had explained on their previous visit that those were reserved for lifeguards.
Rhiannon Miller was a lifeguard?
Draco almost didn't walk the rest of the way over, as he was sure by then that it couldn't be her. But then she spoke, admonishing a child to walk instead of run, and he heard her voice. That same melodic, absolutely enchanting voice. Well, at least now he knew what to say to her straight away.
"I saw you at the opera. You sing wonderfully."
A bright smile curled her lips as she glanced down at him. "Oh, thank you. That's so nice to hear."
Draco smiled too, feeling like a cheering charm was washing through him. Things could not be better, even if he had no idea what to say next. Well, his name might be a good start. "Draco Snape," he said, reaching up to offer her his hand.
Her skin was soft and smooth when she briefly shook his hand. "Rhiannon Miller."
Now what? Draco's tongue felt like it was tied in knots. His stomach, too. What was wrong with him, getting nervous like this? He'd never had this problem with Pansy.
Maybe you didn't really love Pansy, a voice inside him said. Maybe you just thought you did. And this is different because it's the real thing.
"Er... so I'm surprised to see you here," he said. Which was an understatement, of course. He couldn't figure out why she'd be working a job like this. Harry would say it was because she was a Muggle, Draco thought with disgust. Well, there must be some explanation for it. Some other explanation. "The opera doesn't take up all your time?"
"Oh, I wish it could," said Rhiannon, turning in her chair, now. Her smile faded. "I hate working here."
Draco raised an eyebrow.
Rhiannon laughed a little, the sound of it like tinkling bells. Merlin, everything about her was beautiful. Everything.
"I shouldn't complain, I know. It's good of my aunt and uncle to let me stay with them, this summer. I couldn't work with the theatre company, otherwise. And all they ask in return is that I help out at the pool, so . . ." Rhiannon shrugged.
Draco still felt confused. It wasn't a feeling he liked. "Er . . ."
Rhiannon laughed again. "Sorry. My uncle owns the pool, you see."
Oh. That made sense. Her family was in commerce--Draco repressed an urge to shudder--and everyone had to contribute. Well, at least she had the sense to hate it. That probably made it all right.
"I'd mind it less if he actually needed the help," Rhiannon went on. "You see, my family... oh, sorry. Long story."
As far as Draco was concerned, the longer the better. Just listening to her speak was a pleasure. He wanted to see her smile again, wanted the soft feel of her hand in his... "No, tell me. If you like, I mean."