Harry shot him a wry smile. "By seer dream I mean those ones that show me large sections of past and future both. But I've had lots of dreams besides those, that give me a glimpse of what's coming. I dreamed the Slytherins were going to get sick, for instance."
"You might have mentioned that to me," murmured Severus, reaching for the teapot.
"Sorry," said Harry, crumbs flying everywhere as he bit into a slice of crisp toast. Plain, dry toast. Draco almost shuddered. "I didn't know it was really going to happen. The dream was . . . well, it seemed like a regular dream, with things not making much sense, sir. Um, Dad. It was only afterwards that I got it."
Well, at least Draco wasn't the only one still struggling with the issue of names. He knew he should have more sympathy about that, considering, but he didn't. He was glad he wasn't alone.
"So what's going to put you in hospital this time, then?" asked Severus. "I imagine it would be good to make the requisite potions in advance, if possible?"
"No idea. Nobody was saying anything," said Harry, shrugging. "You and Draco were sitting in chairs next to me, and we were all just looking at each other. I can't remember anything besides that."
Sure he could, Draco thought. He just needed prompting. "No casts? Plasters? Bottles of potion on the nightstand?"
Harry wrinkled his forehead like he was thinking hard. "Uh, not sure. My head might have been bandaged. Or, wait, maybe my neck was in a brace, or--"
"Stop," said Severus in a stern voice. And then, to Draco, "You're putting ideas in his mind with questions like that. It's best to let him remember on his own, or not."
"Or pensieve the dream," said Harry. "Like we did that once?"
"Yanking dreams in and out of your mind is a measure best reserved for only the most desperate of circumstances. Which this most decidedly is not. You've merely had a dream. About something that happens to you almost every year, as you yourself admitted."
"But--"
"Didn't I tell you that I only ply magic when it's the best solution? The mind is nothing to tamper with, Harry."
"Especially not your mind," added Draco, nodding.
"Oh, thanks," said his brother, scowling. "Just because you probably got more OWLs than me doesn't mean you're more intelligent, you know. It just means you had more tutors and such."
"Talk to Marsha about your over-sensitivity issues," retorted Draco. "Because I've never mentioned having more OWLs than you. In fact, I don't even know how many you earned. All I meant was that you won't be great shakes as a slayer of the Dark Lord if you end up brain-damaged from irresponsible pensieve use."
Harry's mouth fell open. "Nobody ever told me that using a pensieve could be harmful!"
"It isn't, usually," said Draco, more patiently that time. "But when it comes to dreams, that's something else. And even then it won't hurt you unless you start doing a lot of it."
"Which is why we aren't going to ask Albus for his pensieve every time your dreams prove mildly disturbing," added Severus. "Excellent explanation, Draco. Now, have you any plans today? You were a bit muddled on that point when I picked you up last night. Too many strawberry daiquiris, perhaps?"
Now it was Draco's mouth falling open. "I didn't drink even one."
"I wasn't intending to perturb you so much that you'd lie to me about it," said Severus in a stern voice.
"Rhiannon bought daiquiris and spilled them on the table," added Draco. "I think I got some of it on my sleeve. But I didn't drink any. No chance to."
"Ah. That would account for the smell." Snape lifted his shoulders. "Very well, then. Have you any plans?"
"I wanted to spend the day with Rhiannon."
"Imagine my surprise."
Draco could have done without that droll tone. "The significant word there was wanted," he admitted, wishing his eggs were poached instead of scrambled. Harry had cooked this morning, obviously. He always scrambled the eggs. Well, except for the two times Draco had insisted on poached and had ended up being served eggs that had cracked open into hot water and boiled until they were hard and rubbery. Harry had eaten them and declared them not half bad. Even the memory almost made Draco shudder. "Past tense. She told me Friday that her weekend was wide open, but late last night she said he'd changed his mind and had given her loads of chores to do today. As if she should be doing any menial work. Her uncle's a complete git."
"Let's go to the seaside," said Harry, grinning, the prat. He looked delighted to hear that Draco wouldn't be spending the day with Rhiannon. "Just the three of us. Doesn't that sound grand?"
"Sounds sandy," said Draco, making a face. Harry didn't seem to notice.
"It'll be great! I'd love to practice my strokes somewhere besides that pool."
"Yes, well, we all have our little trials to bear, don't we--"
Harry won the argument, though, with just three words. Well, three words and a glare.
"You owe me."
Draco had a retort ready for that, too, but when he thought about what an absolute cow that Cecile had been, and how Harry had put up with her for Draco's sake, he didn't have the heart to say it.
"Oh, very well. I'll suffer the summer sun on my delicate skin--"
"You seem to be just fine suffering it when Rhiannon's around to admire you."
Draco leaned back, feeling rather pleased by that description of events. "She does admire me, doesn't she?"
"When you're not giving diamond pendants to winos, sure."
Trust Harry to bring that up. Did Draco dwell on all Harry's mistakes? He huffed a little, waiting for Severus to rebuke him, but their father only looked at him a bit sternly before appearing to shrug the matter off.
Draco found that he couldn't do the same. He wanted Severus to think well of him, not regard him as a blithering twit. He wanted Severus to admire him the way the man admired Harry. And wasn't that saying a lot? All at once, Draco almost missed the good old days, when he could stay after Potions class to complain about Harry. Back then, he could always count on Severus for scathing commentary on all subjects Potter.
Not now, though.
Of course, Draco didn't really miss those days. He just got awfully tired of Severus liking Harry more.
Draco raised his chin and addressed his brother. "You know perfectly well that it doesn't matter about the pendant. I could buy a hundred of those and throw them off a cliff, and barely even notice the difference in my vault balance."
"Just because you can waste money doesn't mean you should."
"Ah, but it wasn't a waste, was it? Rhiannon and I had our first real fight and came through it, and we're the stronger for it." Draco wanted to add that the making up had been more than worth the cost of the pendant, too, but he really couldn't, not after he'd told Severus that he wouldn't kiss and tell. There was something that he had to tell, though. "I mentioned the orphanage to Rhiannon and she wants to see it," he said, turning in his chair to look more fully at Severus. "I think I can arrange a visit if I donate a sizeable sum. You'll allow me to take her there, won't you? As long as it's all right with Darswaithe?"
"You didn't explain about magic and squibs, did you?" asked Severus, his frown threatening to turn into a glower.
"No, no. As far as she's concerned, it's just an orphanage taking care of needy children. The Muggle kind. I'm sure I can get Darswaithe to give us a tour and leave out any mention of magic. But of course as soon as she's come to realise that she's actually a witch, I'll explain everything in more detail."
Draco was actually hoping that he'd be able to explain all those details before any visit to the squib home took place, but of course that depended on receipt of the item he had ordered. He wondered when it was going to come.