What Draco had needed was child's play, in comparison. Really, probably not worth the exorbitant price he'd paid. Not in the normal scheme of things. After all, with just a little bit of time and research, Draco could quite probably brew his own aging potion. Brewing it under Severus' watchful eye was another matter, however, so in that sense, the potion-disguised-as-shampoo was worth every last Galleon he'd spent on it.
Draco carefully re-rolled his adoption certificate and put it away, then went back into the bathroom and washed his hair so that the others would hear the shower running. When he came out again, he put his special "shampoo" away where Harry wouldn't run across it, and applied a few drying and styling spells to his hair. Hmm . . . it looked the same as always, and that wouldn't do. There, that was better. Just a little more shine than usual, and he felt ready to go out into the other room and face his family.
Wouldn't you know it . . . the first thing Harry said when Draco emerged was that his hair looked "the same as always."
"I'll have you know, it's a good bit sleeker and smoother just now." Draco chuckled, his mood so elated that he doubted his brother could say anything to spoil it. "Perhaps we should consult some experts as to your own rather distressed hair. Or do you like it sticking up in back like that?"
Harry laughed too. "I guess I must. Aunt Petunia used to cut it short to tame it, and it always grew back overnight. She didn't try cutting it too often, actually. The growing-back part was too upsetting."
It was good, Draco thought, to hear Harry say all that in such a light-hearted tone. Usually when he talked about the Dursleys, his voice went kind of flat. And no wonder, considering the way he'd been treated in that house.
Draco glanced at Severus, and saw that their father was looking rather pleased. Probably because Draco wasn't the only one who'd noticed Harry's tone. Well, Severus noticed everything, didn't he?
Or almost everything. He didn't have any idea about Draco's "shampoo" being something else entirely. Someday, Draco would tell him and they'd have a good laugh about the whole thing. Someday, years from now.
Draco couldn't think ahead that far, not now. He could really only think about tomorrow, when he could see Rhiannon at the pool and casually ask if that evening would be a good time for her to see his magic "act."
He'd show her some magic, all right. It just wouldn't be an act.
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"Oh, that sounds wonderful," Rhiannon said the next day over lunch. This time when Draco had asked her out, the uncle hadn't glowered quite as much. Well, he wouldn't, after the way Draco had behaved during their "man-to-man" talk on Saturday night. Draco had painted Severus as a strict father with high standards--all true, of course--and that had seemed to mollify Stanley Tilden quite a bit. "I'd love to see what sorts of tricks you can do!"
"Are you free this evening?"
"After rehearsal, yes. We should be done by . . ." Rhiannon put her fork down alongside her salad. "Nine, I would think. Earlier, if Adrian isn't in one of his moods."
"Perfect. I'll meet you."
"Are we going to your place, then?"
Draco shook his head. A real pity he couldn't invite her out to Devon, though not for the magic "show," of course. Severus and Harry weren't going to know a thing about that, not if he could help it. "I wish I could invite you to see my home," he said, making no effort to hide his regret. "But it's just not on. Severus is very protective of his privacy, you see. It's difficult to explain unless you understand his personal history, but he just doesn't like to have anyone in his house except a very few people he's known for years."
He'd practiced the explanation in his head several times, and he thought it had come out fairly smoothly, but it had more of an impact on Rhiannon than he'd expected.
Her lips turned down slightly. "Your father doesn't like me."
"No, no, it's not that--"
"It's because my stupid uncle made me say those things about showering!"
"No, Severus understood about that--"
Rhiannon's voice was low and fierce when she interrupted again. "I can hardly blame your father for resenting all that. I knew at the time that I should have told my uncle where he could put his job."
"You need the job so you'll have a place to stay in Exeter," said Draco in as reasonable a voice as he could manage. It was difficult, when what he wanted was to heartily agree that her uncle was a sod. "You can't give up the summer opera opportunity. Of course you can't. Severus understands all about it, I promise you. He doesn't dislike you."
Rhiannon glanced at Draco from beneath her lashes. "You wouldn't lie to me, would you? Not about a thing like that?"
She sounded like it really mattered to her, like it was important that Severus should like her. Or at least, that it was important that he didn't hate her.
"No, I wouldn't lie about that," said Draco, reaching around the side of the small table to take one of her hands. "He doesn't know you very well, but I'm sure he doesn't hold the pool incident against you. And I know he thinks well of your singing talent. Oh . . . that reminds me. We have tickets for this Thursday's performance." Draco frowned. "I wanted to get some seats that would be front-row centre, but that didn't work out."
"I think I'd be nervous to know you're so close."
Draco leaned forward, smiling. "I make you nervous, do I? I'd like to be a lot closer, Rhiannon."
He meant that in several ways. She knew that, he thought. The pink staining her cheeks said as much, but all she said was a quiet, "I meant that it would make me nervous to perform knowing that you were so close."
Draco's smile shifted towards a grin. "Odd. I don't think it'll bother me at all to have an audience of one, tonight."
"Do you want to use the stage? Adrian would probably agree, if I asked him."
"Oh, that would be perfect," said Draco, nodding. He'd thought he might have to rent a hotel room for the magic show, and that wasn't bound to go over so well, considering Rhiannon's issues regarding his wealth. But it had been the best he'd been able to come up with.
"Er . . . do you want me to ask the others if they'd like to stay for your act?" asked Rhiannon, a little tentatively. "I mean, it's a bit odd, a show with just me in the audience."
"I'd much rather be alone with you," breathed Draco.
She blushed again. "All right. I'll talk to Adrian. Thanks for lunch, Draco, but I'd better be getting back to the pool. You know how my uncle hates me to be late."
Draco stood up when Rhiannon did, and dropped a few notes onto the table. Rhiannon gave them a quick glance. Draco hoped she wasn't thinking that the money could have been put to better use, because it couldn't have. He had to eat, didn't he? Well, perhaps he could distract her. "Your uncle approved whole-heartedly when I told him that Severus takes a point per minute for lateness to his class."
"Oh, yes. Uncle Stanley would think that just grand. No wonder he told me that your father wasn't as 'liberal as he had feared,' as he put it."
Draco took her arm as they left the restaurant, but when they made it back to the pool, he had to leave her. He'd rather have stayed for free swim, but it wouldn't do to look like he couldn't bear to be apart from her.
Not even if he couldn't.
At any rate, Severus was waiting for him a few blocks over. He wanted to discuss the last two ethics texts with Draco, as he had to submit a final list of course books to the headmaster, soon. Draco felt a little warm thinking about it. Severus wasn't asking Harry for help with his textbook selections, was he? He was asking Draco, as well he should. What would Harry know about hard choices? His life had been hard, certainly, but he'd never had to turn his back on people he'd once pledged loyalty to.