"On to the next trick, then!" announced Draco, waving his wand about even more. "Elemental spirits and sprites of the forest, do my bidding! We shall have wind within these walls! A gentle breeze, if you please!"
He murmured one of the weather charms they'd learned that year as he swished his wand back and forth.
Rhiannon's hair fluttered as the magical wind swept through it.
Remembering what he'd told Rhiannon, Draco proceeded to make the table disappear, then, cloth and all.
"And now, for the grand finale--"
Rhiannon abruptly stood up from her chair, shaking her head. "No grand finale, no. I don't think so."
Draco's eyebrows drew together. "What's wrong?"
"What's wrong?" echoed Rhiannon. "I . . . what's going on, that's what I'd like to know! Rabbits appearing out of nowhere, that's one thing, but on my head?"
"Oh. Sorry," said Draco, chagrined. That had been a little intrusive, yes. He hoped they hadn't mussed her hair too much. Though of course she looked as beautiful as ever, to Draco. "Butterflies would have been better?"
She looked at him like he wasn't even speaking English. "You made the rabbit float."
She said that in a tone of voice that was just . . . off, somehow. Like it hadn't been normal, after all, what he'd done. But wasn't levitation a standard Muggle trick? Draco was sure she'd mentioned it to him at some point when she was rhapsodising over magic. "I didn't hurt it, you know."
"Where are the wires?"
"Wires?"
"To make it float!"
Oh. His tricks had been too good, was that it? Draco almost conjured some wires for her, but that wasn't going to help, was it? She knew this theatre far better than he did; she'd know they hadn't been there when he'd started. "I . . . er, I made them disappear."
"Along with the table," she said flatly.
Draco started to speak, but she didn't even let him get the first word out.
"Magicians can't make wind appear like that, either. At least not any I've ever heard of. How did you do it?"
"I . . . er . . ."
"How did you do it?"
Draco thought fast. Not that it did him much good. "Oh, years and years of practice--"
"Do it again. Now."
Something about her tone set the hair on his arms standing on end. "Er . . . I . . . I don't know if the forest sprites are in still the mood. They can be a little temperamental, you know . . ."
Rhiannon took a step closer to him, and spoke very softly. "Please?"
Draco wasn't quite sure why she wanted to see the spell again, but the look in her eyes, the blue so intense now it called to mind the depths of the sea . . . he couldn't resist it. Or maybe it was the scent clinging to her hair that was getting to him. She smelled like a meadow in full bloom, like she was made of freshness and sunshine . . . Or maybe it was her smile, her lips curving in encouragement, even as they seemed to pucker slightly, as if inviting a kiss.
Draco didn't know for certain what part of all that was most persuasive. He only knew one thing, really, and it was that he longed to make her every dream come true.
Starting with the simple breeze she'd asked for. He waved his wand, revelling in the tingle of power flowing through him and into it. About time he could practice magic freely.
Rhiannon's hair picked up again, fluttering and then lifting away from her back and shoulders.
Sighing with evident pleasure, she turned around and around in the breeze, holding out her hands like she was trying to catch the air, or maybe the spell. "Keep it going," she said, her voice not so much flat now as fascinated. "Keep it going . . ."
Draco couldn't, though, not forever. The spell slipped from his grasp after a few more moments. By then he felt drained. Sustaining weather charms really demanded a lot of energy, which was probably a good thing. He'd hate to think what a mess the students would make of Hogwarts if each and every one of them could make it rain for hours on end.
"That's not a trick at all," said Rhiannon as her hair fell back to cling to the simple blouse she was wearing. "Is it."
She said the last part like a statement, not a question.
For his part, Draco wasn't sure what to reply. He'd been taught from an early age never to discuss magic with outsiders. The Ministry might have a lot of nonsensical rules, but that one was actually sound policy, in his view.
But Rhiannon wasn't an outsider, was she? Not really . . .
And she'd asked. She wanted to know. She was ready to know. Merlin's beard, she already knew, didn't she? Draco could see it in her eyes.
He wanted to tell her, wanted to confirm what she'd guessed on her own, but before he could, she was saying it for him.
"Magic is real, isn't it? And you can do it, you can make things appear and make them disappear, and . . . you aren't a stage magician at all, I don't think. You're just a magician."
"That's not a word we use."
Rhiannon stepped closer and ran her hands over both Draco's forearms. His bare skin tingled where she touched it, making Draco all at once happy he'd worn short sleeves, this evening. When she spoke, she sounded like she was wading through dreams. "Magician, no . . . of course not. I used to think about this, you know, witches and faeries and forest sprites, just like you said. I used to make up stories about it in my head. Just stories. But they're all real, aren't they? Tell me, Draco! Tell me if I'm wrong and you've just got an act that could dazzle God himself--"
"You're not wrong," Draco said, pulling her closer.
"They're real?" Rhiannon melted into him.
"Well, witches are, at least. I've never actually met a fairy or a forest sprite, to be honest."
He felt rather than heard her soft gasp. "You're a witch, then."
Draco winced, but since he was holding her so tight, she couldn't see it. "Wrong word, again."
"Oh. Sorry. Warlock, I suppose?"
"Wizard."
"Wizard." Draco wouldn't have thought she could get any closer, but at that, she did, sort of snuggling against him. "Really? Truly? It's not just some sort of joke?"
"I go to a school of wizardry," he said against her hair. "And Severus doesn't teach chemistry. His specialty is Potions."
"Potions." Draco had the feeling that she was searching her memory, looking for snippets of information from stories or legends. Anything, to help her understand. "Do you really brew them in a cauldron?"
Draco laughed a little. "Yes, I really brew them in a cauldron. I'm quite good at that, actually."
"Name something you can make."
"Hmm . . ." He didn't want to mention anything that might frighten her. Though granted, the whole idea of magic seemed to fascinate rather than alarm her. Which only stood to reason. She was no Muggle to run screaming from the idea of wizardry. "Wart-removal potion. I just learned to make it this past year. It's tricky because you need a wand at a couple of points, and it won't come out right if you don't do the spells just so--"
It seemed like Rhiannon was thirsty to know more and more about the world she'd always suspected was there, since she didn't even let him finish his sentence. "And broomsticks, is that true? You fly around on them?"
"I've even got the latest model of Firebolt." Her total lack of reply made him realise how meaningless the claim must sound to her. "Yes, I mean. I can fly on a broomstick. I'm good at that, too. We play a sport at my school that's sort of like . . . er, rugby, I suppose," he said, naming the only Muggle sport he'd heard anything about. "Anyway, it's played completely on brooms, everybody soaring through the air . . ."
Rhiannon stepped back, looking unsettled even though she still seemed astonished and deeply pleased to know that magic was real. "Er . . . what is it that makes you a wizard, then? Just learning the craft at this school, then?"
"No . . . you have to be born with magic." He almost added, and you were, but decided that she might have been dealt enough shocks for one night. Even if she didn't seem particularly shocked.