"Another day," repeated Snape.
"But I have to know that you're going to let me have some time on my own," said Draco, his voice growing frantic. "This won't do at all, this hanging about together all the time--"
"Allow me a few moments to consider the matter before you badger me."
Snape's voice was approaching stern, Harry thought. Draco must have realised that too, since he stopped whingeing on about seeing Rhiannon again. Though wasn't it strange that he wanted to see her at all, considering? Harry didn't know what to make of it. Then again, she had been walking around in a swimsuit. Draco wasn't used to seeing girls wearing so little; he'd said so. Maybe he'd been so focussed on her legs and cleavage that he'd yet to realise that she was a Muggle.
Though it wasn't much like Draco to ever overlook things like that, or be slow to figure things out.
As soon as they Apparated into the meadow in front of the cottage, Draco rushed through the door. Harry found him in their bedroom, the wardrobe doors flung wide. He was standing in front of them, actually chewing on his own thumb as he considered the clothes hanging inside. More than that, he was talking to himself. "A casual lunch? Or something fancier? Hmm, maybe best to ask her out for dinner to start--"
He abruptly stopped talking when Harry walked fully into the room.
Harry wasn't sure quite what to say. You're completely off your head didn't seem like such a good idea. "Turns out that swimming's harder than I thought."
Draco kept flipping through his clothes. "Well, the last time you did have fins--"
"More like flippers." Flopping onto his bed, Harry sighed. Then he rolled over onto his side. "I almost thought I was going to drown."
"In the lake?"
"No, in the pool today. Well, at least one thing is finally cleared up."
Draco's voice was cool. Or Arctic, maybe. "And what would that be?"
Oh, God. Harry suddenly felt sick. For a moment there, he'd almost started to believe that Draco didn't care if Rhiannon was a Muggle. Which would be good, considering, even if he was on the rebound from Pansy's horrible betrayal. But now it seemed clear that Draco was persisting in his delusions about the girl.
"Look," said Harry, abruptly sitting up. "Let's just think about this rationally. How many witches do you suppose hold down summer jobs at Muggle swimming pools?"
Draco looked down his nose at Harry. "Well, I don't know. Probably depends on how many have uncles who own pools and insist they work at them in return for a place to stay."
"Her uncle owns the pool?" Harry frowned. "Doesn't that tell you anything?"
"Oh, he might be a Muggle. Why should I care? He's her uncle by marriage, not blood. And in any case, she doesn't seem to like him very much, which shows commendable good taste, doesn't it, and--"
Harry couldn't help saying it. "You're completely off your head."
Instead of getting angry, Draco just shrugged. "So Rhiannon's aunt married a Muggle. So what? I don't happen to think it's a very sound idea, but I'm hardly going to hold it against her."
"Did she say that she was a pureblood with a Muggle uncle?"
"As good as."
"As good as," repeated Harry. "I think you'd better ask her straight out if she's a witch, Draco."
"I think he'd better not," said Snape in a deep voice.
Harry glanced toward the doorway, startled. How long had their father been standing there?
"Suppose she isn't a witch? Bringing the matter up would be awkward at best, and necessitate a Ministry inquiry at worst."
"Suppose she isn't a witch," mocked Draco. "Do you think I spent all those years under Lucius' tutelage without learning how to read people?"
"Yes," said Harry bluntly. "You thought I was awful, remember?"
"Potter, you were awful according to my values of the time," said Draco, eyes glittering. "Now, as regards Rhiannon, she was speaking in the kind of guarded language I'm very well used to. Her parents and her uncle are different sorts, she said. It couldn't have been clearer! She was throwing euphemisms about because she couldn't speak freely, since she must have thought that I didn't know a thing about magic!"
Harry threw up his hands. "Well, if you can't mention it in case she doesn't know, and she can't mention it in case you don't, then how are we ever going to find out the truth?"
Draco shrugged. "I know the truth already, thank you very much."
"No, you don't--"
The other boy's voice shifted to a higher pitch. "Are you saying that it's impossible for her to be a witch, Harry? Well? Are you?"
Harry was about to retort that yes, it bloody well was impossible, but Severus beat him to it. Except, he didn't say that at all. "Introduce your brother again," he said instead. "That should clear the matter up."
"Huh?"
Draco had caught on, though. "Oh," he said, sounding fascinated. "That's spot on, Severus. What a good idea." He grinned in Harry's direction. "I referred to you only as Harry, remember? And your fringe was down over your scar. Still looks plastered to it, in fact. Could be a side effect of that nasty chlorine."
Harry stared in dismay from his father to his brother. "Oh, great. Now my name gets to be some sort of test to see if she's heard of the wizarding world?"
"Not if, Harry," said Draco. He was frowning, though. For a moment Harry hoped it was because he was realising that Rhiannon really might be a Muggle. But, no such luck. "Wait. Maybe that's a bad idea, Severus. People hang all over Harry when they first meet him, and I'm not about to have Rhiannon getting stars in her eyes for anyone but me."
"You're just afraid to find out that she's a Muggle!"
"I don't have to prove anything to you. Not about Rhiannon, or anything else."
"I'll be introducing Harry again myself, if you don't," said Severus, pushing off from the wall. "I want this matter settled so that you two can stop using it as fodder for disagreement."
"Fine, whatever." Draco glanced again at the clothes in his wardrobe. "Can I go back to Exeter to meet her when she gets off work?"
"No."
"But I need to," said Draco in a wheedling voice. "I practically promised--"
"You did no such thing. You'll see her when we go for Harry's next lesson."
"But--"
It seemed to Harry that Draco's interest in the girl was more like an obsession. But he didn't think saying so would make any difference, so he tried to go about things the way a Slytherin would. What would make Draco stop longing to see her so soon? "You know," he said, resting a hand on his brother's arm, "if you rush back there, it's going to seem like you're desperate. Is that the impression you want to give?"
"Oh, Wednesday, fine." Draco made a face, but his expression brightened almost immediately. "Oh, I know! Let's go to Diagon Alley! I want to get her something from Fiery Gems!"
"A present already? That might look desperate, too--"
Draco brushed Harry's hand away. "You obviously don't understand being in love. I'm not going to give it to her for a while, not until we're closer, but I want to be able to say that I bought it for her the first day we met." He glanced toward the doorway. "Take us to Diagon then? Please, Dad?"
Snape's expression went a tad sour. "Perhaps you could try calling me that when you don't want something from me."
"What?" Draco looked astonished. "I don't do that--"
"You do, actually. I can recall only one time when you said it in other circumstances."
Draco glanced from Snape to Harry, his brow wrinkled. "Have you noticed this?"