Roger seemed to take pity on him. "Listen, Harry. In my view, you don't properly need lessons any longer. You fall overboard, you won't drown. But more lessons will help you become a stronger swimmer, certainly. That's why I'm starting to insist on so many laps."
"And quite right you are, Mr Yates," said Snape smoothly. "I'm pleased by Harry's progress, but as you said, I'd hardly wish to discontinue lessons."
"Great. So I'll see you on Friday, then." Roger nodded once, then walked towards the children's pool, where he stopped to speak with Rhiannon. Harry frowned, remembering how annoyed Draco had been when "his girl" had talked to that other man outside the theatre.
"Harry and I will be off, then." Snape turned toward Draco. "I'll expect a much better discussion, later this evening, of that book. Read it until your girlfriend has her lunch break, and then again during free swim."
"I thought I'd lie out in the sun--"
Severus' voice all at once became suffused with humour. "You can't read lying down? This is fascinating. I shall have to inform Madam Pomfrey of a possible balance disorder--"
"He just doesn't want to look like a Poindexter."
Harry laughed when his father and brother both turned confused faces his way. "A nerd, a dweeb, a geek--"
"No more slang when we play Scrabble next," said Draco. "You know too many strange words."
"At least I don't make them up, Mr Quizzex."
Draco shrugged. "That's what you get for agreeing to play without dictionary char-- er, I mean, charming dictionaries to verify every word. Anyway, you meant?"
"You don't want to be seen reading. You're afraid people might think you're an egghead. Or a Hermione, I mean."
"Ha, very funny. I'll have you know that I don't mind in the least if people, as you put it, see that I have an intellectual side."
Draco didn't actually tack so, there onto the end, but he was thinking it. Harry could tell.
"Good," said Snape crisply. "Because I expect a thorough analysis of that book this evening, as I said." He leaned over a little. Not exactly breathing down Draco's neck, but close. "And if I don't get what I want, I'll assign you to read the book once more and report on it in writing."
By the end there, Harry was feeling a little sorry for Draco, even if he had brought this all on himself by giving the Muggle-written book short shrift. Wrapping his towel around his shoulders, he said he'd be back in a flash.
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Free swim had been both better and worse than the previous time, Harry thought later. Draco had spent most of his time reading, or looking like he was trying to, anyway. His gaze, though, kept wandering away from his book. It was like he was trying to catch Rhiannon's eye, but she was sitting with her back to the main pool, so there wasn't much chance of it happening. But Draco kept trying, all the same, astrange look on his face. Sort of like he was drunk or something, Harry thought. The small smile curling his lips could only be described as . . . well, goofy. Harry didn't know a better word for it.
Of course, Draco didn't constantly look like that. Most of the time his expression was neutral. Guarded, even. But then Rhiannon would shift in her chair a bit, looking like she might turn 'round, and that distant, almost drugged look would slip into Draco's eyes.
Harry didn't know what was going on, but it seemed clear enough that something had happened during Draco's lunch date with Rhiannon. Something that meant a lot to Draco. Maybe she told him that she loves him, Harry thought. Or maybe Draco declared his love, and she liked hearing that, and Draco could tell that she liked it . . .
"Staring at him won't make him stare at her any less," said Snape, moving through the water until he blocked Harry's view of his brother.
"Yeah . . ." Harry cleared his throat, uncomfortable without knowing why. "Um, you think you can let him stop reading for a while? That diving game was good--"
"He's occasionally reading. I'd rather we let him be."
Harry sighed. "All right. It's just . . . what do you think is going on?"
"You really can't guess?" Snape's eyebrows drew together as if he thought he'd said too much. "Why don't we race, you and I? The length of the pool and back, crawl stroke."
Harry knew that his father had changed the subject on purpose, but he didn't really mind. It was better than wondering what was going on with Draco and his goofy smiles. "Race? You and me?"
"That was the general idea, yes."
Harry could have done without the drawl. Or the slight smirk, come to think of it. And while racing didn't sound half bad . . . "I'm just a beginner! You'll wipe the floor with me, like when we play chess. Every time we play chess. I won't stand a chance."
"Come now. Where's your daring? Your defiance of all odds? Do your house proud."
"Houses."
"Yes, you're both. So . . . you're too cunning to risk a loss and the attendant blow to your pride, is that what you mean?"
It hadn't been, but it sounded good. "Yeah."
Snape's voice dropped to a low drawl. "I see. You want incentives."
Harry laughed and splashed a little water his father's way, which made Snape move to one side. "What could those be? Don't you get it? I have what I've always wanted."
"Oh yes, he's cunning, all right," called Draco from where he was stretched out on a towel, his ankles crossed as he lay on his stomach. Harry had the feeling that his brother was posing, just in case Rhiannon happened to turn around.
Snape's teeth glinted. "There's value in reticence, sometimes. Perhaps Harry has concluded that I'll offer better incentives if he doesn't ask for any."
That sounded good, too. Not for the first time, Harry was impressed with the way his father could strategise. "Yeah, that's right. That's what I was thinking."
"I do believe you should study this chapter on lying," said Draco. Loudly.
"Just make sure you study it. Thoroughly." Snape's voice sounded a little dark, but he seemed to relax when he turned back to Harry. "Now, as for these incentives you've been hinting at . . . what about dropping by Privet Drive again, this time asking your cousin to dine out with us?"
It wasn't lost on Harry that the offer was a significant one. He knew that his father didn't much care for Dudley, and only tolerated him for Harry's sake. Which made it doubly hard to say, "His diet . . . he's supposed to avoid carbohydrates, right? Dudly said it was really hard to do that in restaurants."
Snape snapped his fingers. "That's quite manageable."
Harry widened his eyes. "Really? You mean you can . . . " He lowered his voice. "You know, do something to take all the carbohydrates out of his food?"
"I was actually thinking we could find a restaurant that specialises in salads. A great many edible plants suit his criterion."
"You've taken the time to look into the kind of diet Dudley's on?"
Snape somehow sounded amused and impatient all at once. "You really don't understand my line of work, do you?"
Oh, so it was a Potions thing. Harry decided he was touched, anyway. "Dinner sounds brilliant, but we have to make sure Piers doesn't invite himself out with us. I don't want to spend any time with him."
Snape looked at him closely, then shrugged. "There's no reason he should expect to be invited. He isn't family."
"Well, neither is Dudley. I mean, not to you."
"On the contrary. He's my son's cousin."
Oh. That was a nice way to put it. Harry felt like the pool water had just got a little bit warmer. Though he couldn't help but call over to Draco, "Did you hear that, you eavesdropper? Dudley's your brother's cousin, which makes him your cousin, too!"
Draco gave a little shiver, and didn't reply. His finger looked contemptuous as he flicked it over the pages to turn them. How a finger could look contemptuous, though, was beyond Harry to explain. He just knew that Draco's had.