"Listen to you," scoffed Draco. "His own House. Forgetting something, aren't you? He has two!"
"I know which one he'll play for, if he plays at all."
Draco sat up a little bit straighter. "Well, I for one am looking forward to facing him on the pitch. He's a worthy opponent, and I can appreciate one, after that last match of the year."
"You won't appreciate it as much if our House loses," said Severus, arms crossed, his expression rather forbidding.
"Oh, thanks for having so much faith in me," said Draco in a scathing tone. "I have some talent too, you ought to know."
"Yes, you do. But you've never yet bested Harry in competition, which leads to a rather depressing conclusion for the next year, assuming he takes up the sport again."
"Well, if you're so worried he'll sink us, you could order him not to play," said Draco. Even before Severus replied, though, Draco knew what a terrible suggestion that had been. "No, I know you couldn't do that to him. He's more important than any trophy or score."
"Quite."
"To me, too," said Draco, feeling like Severus might not believe him. "Though I do plan to play like an absolute demon against him. He's not going to lead his team to victory unless he really works for it. Earns it. But . . . er . . . you aren't planning on getting him an XL, are you? For his birthday or anything?"
Severus' voice was mocking, Draco thought. "Am I to understand that you don't wish me to treat you both the same? You don't want things to be even?"
"Not that particular thing," muttered Draco.
"So you propose I should sabotage Harry's chances at victory merely because he'll likely play for a team other than our own?"
"Likely, ha. Try certainly."
"It's by no means certain that he'll play at all." Severus shrugged. "He doesn't seem to want to talk about it, either. But that is no matter. I told him a while ago to take as much time as he needs to decide."
"That's the problem, then," said Draco, turning toward his father. "Harry's worried about disappointing you, I think. He wants to play on the same team he always has, and he's probably pretty worried how you'll feel if that means that our team loses."
"You're not exactly a fount of confidence," said Severus dryly.
"I'm talking for Harry, who when it comes to Qu-- to his favourite sport, is actually a fount of overconfidence," retorted Draco. "I'm sure that we can take him this year. I've improved a lot, and the team is feeling pretty damned confident after winning the Cup and all."
"You're so certain of victory that you just asked me to make sure that Harry doesn't get an XL."
Draco grinned. "Oh, well that's just strategy."
Severus' lips curled, just slightly. "Yes, of course."
"But I do think that if Harry's hesitating, it's because he needs more than just an assurance that he can decide whatever he likes, Severus. You need to tell him that you'll be all right with him playing for his other House. You need to tell him, even, that if that means we lose the Cup this year, you won't resent him for it."
"Oh, I think he knows all that--"
"He needs to hear it."
"I wouldn't want to pressure him to play, Draco. He seemed fairly content to allow Miss Weasley to assume his position this past year."
Draco stared at his father.
"Well, except for that time in the stands when he clearly wanted to join in," added Severus, frowning.
"You see? He's trying to resist for your sake, so he won't have to feel like he's letting you down by not playing for his new House. You'd better talk to him."
"Talk to who?" asked Harry, towelling off his hair as he came up to them.
"Whom," said Draco and Severus at the same time.
Harry glanced at them both, clearly annoyed. "And whom do you need to talk to, Dad?"
"You," said Draco, shifting on his seat so he'd jostle Severus. It was either that or poke him, and he didn't think that would go over so well. "About playing, next year."
Harry sighed. "Ron and the others aren't going to stand for me playing for another House. They just aren't."
"I'm well aware that if you play at all, it will be on the same team as always," said Severus, standing up. "If you've been putting off a decision for fear of my reaction--"
"It's not you," said Harry quickly. Perhaps a bit too quickly, Draco thought, but that impression was lost as his brother kept speaking "It's just, you know. Family means a lot more than anything else, and Draco and I are bound to not get along so well if I'm helping Ron and the others crush him, and--"
Draco felt his eyebrows going up behind his hairline as he stood. "Excuse me? Did you just claim you're going to crush me? Crush me?"
"I said if."
"You meant when, you complete prat!"
"Look, I'm just trying to make sure it doesn't come to that--"
"Oh, it's not going to come to that," said Draco, baring his teeth in a way that usually intimidated his House mates. "You'll be lucky to walk off the pitch at the end of our first match. I guarantee it. And if you say now that you won't play against me, well, I'll just have to conclude you're a coward."
"That's ridiculous!"
"Scared, Potter?"
Harry scoffed out loud. "You wish."
"So, you'll play?"
It was probably Harry's hesitant glance toward their father that settled the matter.
"You obviously wish to," said Snape dryly. "Don't worry about who might win or lose, Harry, or what it might do to the counters. I want you to excel in all your endeavours, whatever that might entail."
"Well, you're going to be disappointed," said Draco. "Harry's not going to excel, not at this. I'm going to wipe the pitch with him, I am--"
"I want you to excel, as well, you idiot child."
"Then you're bound to be disappointed, no matter what," said Draco, laughing that time.
"You know, it's not so nice to threaten me with bodily harm and then start laughing," groused Harry.
Draco made a face. "Oh, were you under the impression that I was nice, Harry? Where did you get that idea?"
Severus held up a hand before Harry could reply. ""That's quite enough. Harry will play or not as he chooses, and we will all deal with whatever consequences result. Now, I suggest we do a spot of shopping before we go home. We're running low on perishables."
"Yeah, we're almost completely out of whale milk and yak butter," said Harry under his breath.
Draco ignored that. It wasn't his fault if Muggle stores offered a woefully inadequate selection of goods. Besides, he had an announcement to make. "I'll come shopping with you but I'm not going home afterwards. I've a lunch date with Rhiannon, you see. Just the two of us. Oh, and then when she goes back on duty at one, you and Severus are coming back here for free swim so you can practice your strokes, Harry."
Harry tilted his face up and spoke to his father. "You're coming in the water with me?"
Severus didn't answer that, Draco noticed.
"Be sure to bring along the things I need, Harry," Draco said as they started to leave the Northbrook Pool. "My lotion, yes? You know which one I mean. And one of the extra-fluffy towels in the bottom of the armoire. The regular ones scratch me something awful. And swim trunks and a casual shirt, and do try to be sure the colours don't clash horribly, and--"
"You think I'm some kind of servant, don't you?"
That kind of hurt Draco. "I'd do the same for you."
"Oh, very well," said Harry. "Serve you right if I bring crimson and gold. They go together very well. I should know."
As if Draco had any clothes in those horrible colours.
Then he caught the glint in Harry's eyes. Draco bit his lip, trying to remember if Harry's lexicon included any spells that would let him transfigure colours.
"You wouldn't," he said, almost hissing the words.
Harry laughed yet again. "I practically have to, now. You know, to prove I'm not a coward."