"Oh, one shot won't do anything, and we have hours left before we meet up with him!"
Hours. Hours with Cecile. Harry grimaced, thinking it just might be worth the lecture from Snape, if it meant he could get good and sloshed for the rest of his time with Cecile. Well, at least Rhiannon did seem very nice. Harry could see why Draco liked. her so much, but he was afraid to say so, just in case his brother was still worried about Harry trying to steal her away. It wasn't like that.
"Do you really like the music?"
"Can't hear you!"
Harry took a deep breath and tried again, shouting even more loudly that time. "The music. You really like it?"
Draco's grin was lopsided and almost infectious. It made Harry happy to see his brother so obviously enjoying himself.
"It's wizard!"
Harry almost choked with laughter. Not just from Draco's comment, either. It was also from the way the other boy was practically dancing in his seat. No pretence at perfect manners or aristocratic coolness, now. Draco was bouncing his shoulders up and down in time to the pounding beat, and kind of swaying his neck from side to side. Harry wouldn't have been surprised to find out that Draco was also moving his legs, but of course the table blocked his view. Harry had to resist an urge to lean down and see. The idea of doing that, though, just made him laugh all the harder.
"Good thing they aren't back with those drinks, yet," shouted Draco. "I think you'd spew yours. Probably over Cecile!"
"Couldn't make much difference to her mood," said Harry, laughing again.
"Oh, looks like we're in luck," said Draco, half-standing to peer over the crowd between them and the bar. "Can't be sure, but I think the bartender is pouring something from a blender, and it looks like that was Rhiannon he just talked with--"
"Bit odd she demanded to pay like that," shouted Harry.
Draco shrugged. "She doesn't love me for my money, that much is certain. She hates it. I think she'd much rather I was in her same social class!"
When Harry thought about that, it made perfect sense. It explained the face she'd made at that mention of Wiltshire. It also moved her up a notch, in Harry's view. It would have been awful if her attraction to Draco had been based, at least in part, on his obvious wealth. But if she disliked the idea that he had boatloads of money . . .
"I bet you've thought of this," Harry shouted, laughing again, "but if she feels that way, you'd better not give her that diamond necklace you bought her--"
Oh, God. Harry couldn't have stuck his foot in worse if he'd tried. Not his fault, really. He'd got used to shouting everything, what with the music blaring so loudly that he could barely hear himself think.
And that was just the trouble: the music had stopped in the middle of his sentence, but Harry had still been yelling.
You'd better not give her that diamond necklace you bought her . . .
Gulping, Harry turned around, hoping Rhiannon was still at the bar, distracted by the task of getting the drinks. No such luck, though. She was about fifteen feet away, two tall, curvy glasses in her hands. Cecile was carrying another two.
Cecile looked darkly amused, like she was thinking, This ought to be good . . . but Harry barely registered that. It was Rhiannon's expression that had him more concerned.
She was clearly aghast. And angry.
For a moment, Harry thought she was going to turn around and leave, just like that. But then she came forward, slamming the drinks down on the table so hard that something pink and frothy slopped onto its surface.
"Strawberry daiquiri?" asked Draco, pasting a weak smile on his face. "Good choice--"
"Shut up," hissed Rhiannon. "I can't believe you. After everything I told you, everything I said, you went out and bought me something dripping with diamonds? What is that if not showing off, just like those prats at school?"
Harry never would have guessed that he'd actually want that screaming loud music back, but he could have done with it, now. He didn't want to hear Rhiannon rail at Draco. In fact, it seemed wrong to sit here listening to it, even if Cecile clearly had just that in mind. She was gesturing for Harry to shove over in the booth.
Instead, Harry rose to his feet and took her firmly by the arm. "I think we'll dance for a bit," he announced, meeting Draco's eyes.
"Yeah, good idea," murmured Draco. "Rhiannon . . . it wasn't like that. Listen to me for a minute--"
That was all Harry heard. He yanked Cecile away from the table and got as far away as he could, as fast as he could, ending up on the edge of the dance floor, impatiently tapping his foot as he wondered how long it would be before they started up the music again.
Cecile handed him one of the drinks she was carrying, and began sipping her own. "Did he really?" she Cecile, clearly fascinated. "Actual diamonds? You weren't joking?"
The greed in her voice would be hard to miss, thought Harry, disgusted. She'd obviously be very happy to end up with a rich boyfriend. Huh . . . if Rhiannon had been a different sort of person, she'd have bragged to Cecile that Harry was rolling in money, too, and then Harry might have been faced with the unpleasant prospect of a Cecile batting her eyes at him and pretending to be interested.
Ick, yuck.
But Rhiannon wasn't the sort of person to be impressed by wealth. Or expect her friends to be, Harry suspected.
"I think that's Draco's business," Harry said firmly as he reached over the railing to set his drink down on an empty table. It had looked fabulous at first glance, but now, the idea of being anything less than clear-headed? Harry didn't want that. No telling what Draco was going through; for all Harry knew, Rhiannon might be breaking up with him. Harry had to be ready, in case Draco needed him.
"If it's his business, then you shouldn't have been shouting it to the whole world, should you?" asked Cecile.
About half her drink was gone by then, but Harry wasn't about to make excuses for her behaviour. He gave her the coldest look he could manage. "I think you know that wasn't my intention."
The music started up again, then. Harry neatly plucked Cecile's glass from her fingers, and wasted no time in pulling her out onto the dance floor. It was better than talking to her, after all. In a moment they were surrounded, caught up in a crush of other dancers. Good thing. That way, Harry didn't feel like people sitting at tables were staring at him. They couldn't even see him.
Cecile was an excellent dancer, Harry had to admit a bit later, but as far as he was concerned, it didn't make up for her being a lousy person.
They danced a few times, and then Harry figured long enough had passed that they could return to the booth. When they got there, though, it was occupied by strangers; Draco and Rhiannon were nowhere to be found.
"Huh," said Harry, feeling flummoxed. Cecile didn't hear him, but he didn't particularly care. After what had happened earlier, he wasn't about to start shouting again. Not to mention, his throat still hurt a bit from all the yelling before.
Cecile didn't seem to mind shouting again. "Bet they went outside! Rhiannon wouldn't really want to talk in here, I don't think."
Harry nodded that he'd heard, and for lack of any better idea about what to do, headed toward a couple of empty chairs crammed into a corner. Sitting down, he turned slightly away from Cecile and pretended to be interested in watching the dance floor.
She got the message pretty quickly, and didn't say too much after that.
It seemed like a long time until he spotted Draco and Rhiannon coming back in. Worried, Harry sat up straighter and tried to glean what he could from his brother's expression. Hard to tell, really, what he was thinking. He didn't exactly look grim, but he did look like he was exercising some sort of iron control over himself.
Rhiannon, on the other hand, seemed relaxed enough. Amused, even.