"Not terribly noble to taunt your brother," said Snape quietly. He gestured for Harry to move with him to the opposite side of the pool. Deeper water; Harry ended up treading it while Snape leaned up against the concrete edge of the pool.
Harry kept his voice very low. "I'm not trying to taunt him. I just want him to wake up and realise he's dating a . . . you know."
"No doubt he will, in his own good time." Snape lifted his shoulders. "So. Shall we race?"
Harry nodded, pushing Draco's problems from his mind. He actually had to Occlude a little bit to make it work. Strange, thinking of fire when he was wet all over. "Yeah, I'll race you. But I want a head start. Half a lap, say."
"I knew you could drive a hard bargain when it suited you. But then, so can I. Suppose I win . . . what's to be my reward?"
Harry tried for an innocent tone, but wasn't so sure he succeeded. "Um . . . we can ask Marsha out for dessert?"
"She'll no doubt be taking dessert with Michael."
Was that Harry's imagination, or had Snape sounded just the tiniest bit annoyed? That didn't make sense, though, considering that Michael was a dog. Hmm . . . maybe Snape was just annoyed at the way Marsha had acted like she had a date, or something, that night. At any rate, Harry did know what his father would consider a good incentive. It had nothing to do with Marsha. "All right, all right. If you win I'll stop trying to make Draco see sense."
"Now that is quite the incentive." Snape raised an eyebrow. "Is it a promise you can keep?"
"Well, I can try."
"Try."
"I can try hard."
"I seem to recall your agreeing to all this, before."
The man's voice had been stern, that time. Stern enough to make Harry feel a bit guilty. "Well, learn by experience, right?" he quipped, even though he wasn't sure how it really applied in this case. "I'll try my best."
Snape gave him a dry look, then motioned for Harry to take the head start he had demanded.
------------------------------------------------------
Snape had won the race. At some level, that surprised Harry. He'd sort of expected his father to let him win. Maybe Snape had intended to, but had found Harry's incentive too tempting to pass up.
It didn't really matter, though, since Harry wanted to do what would please his father, anyway. Pestering Draco about Rhiannon's obvious "Mugglishness" wasn't it.
"So, you and Rhiannon are going to the squib home tomorrow?" asked Harry brightly as he slathered some dressing on his salad, that evening. "Is she taking the day off work, something like that?"
"She can't." Draco made a face. "With that uncle of hers, I knew better than to even have her ask. So we're set for eight a.m. tomorrow, before the pool opens. Oh, by the way, both of you are coming along as well."
Harry glanced at his father, only to see Snape looking as surprised as Harry felt. "We are?"
Draco's own voice was airy. "Didn't I mention?"
"You know perfectly well you didn't mention," said Snape, sounding critical.
"Well, I didn't think you'd mind."
"Draco, what's going on?" asked Harry, exasperated.
"You're coming to the squib home. Is it that difficult to comprehend?"
"Don't be like that. Why would you want us on your date?"
"It's hardly a date--"
"Draco." That was all Snape had to say. His tone said the rest.
Draco sighed. "Darswaithe insisted."
"Why?" That time, Snape and Harry spoke almost in unison.
"Oh, fine." Draco set his fork down with a clatter. "Humiliate me, fine. Go right ahead. Rub it in. The truth is, that stupid, stupid man said he wouldn't take my vault draft unless my father authorised such a sizeable withdrawal. Never mind that Severus doesn't have any control, nominal or otherwise, over my personal holdings. I told him that, but he didn't care. He kept going on and on about how he just had to have parental consent." Draco scowled.
"Of course he did," said Snape. "A a minor can rescind a contract unless a parent provides written consent."
"Yes, well I'm not exactly--"
Strange how Snape's voice could go from casual to menacing in about three seconds' flat, Harry thought. "Not exactly what, Draco?"
Draco heaved in a breath, his eyes going a little bit glassy. Like mirrors, almost.
He's Occluding, Harry abruptly thought. He's lying, and the way Dad's looking at him, I bet he knows . . .
"I'm not exactly incompetent to handle my own finances. I've been doing it for years."
"Horace Darswaithe is merely behaving in a responsible manner."
Well, that was a more diplomatic way of putting it than what Harry had been thinking . . . namely, that Darswaithe probably suspected Draco would change his mind about the money once he'd got what he wanted. Once Rhiannon had seen the orphanage.
"He's behaving like a right pain in the arse." Draco drummed his fingers on the table, then abruptly shoved them out of sight. "But he did insist. So you'll come along, Severus? Note that I didn't call you Dad, given that I want something at the moment."
Ouch, thought Harry. That probably stings.
If it did, Severus didn't show it. "Yes, I'll come. And you, Harry?"
"Darswaithe didn't demand me, too."
Draco made a gagging sound, but cut it out when Snape gave him a sharp glance. "He didn't demand, no," said the boy in a subdued voice. "But he did wax poetic about how much he'd like to see Harry Potter again and how relieved he was that you seemed to have forgiven him completely for that contretemps at your interview, and what a lovely person you were and how I was really quite lucky to have you for a brother."
No wonder Draco was feeling a bit insecure at the moment. That probably explained the rudeness.
"I'm lucky to have you for a brother, too," said Harry.
"Oh, please." Draco lifted his chin. "That is, you definitely are, but I don't delude myself that you really think that. I'm the bad son around here; I'm likely the bad brother, too--"
"You aren't the bad son!" exclaimed Harry.
Draco shook his head like he didn't want to talk about it. Like he'd said too much, already.
"You aren't the bad son," Snape said, his voice as calm as Harry's had been vehement. "There is no such thing. Both you and Harry have good moments as well as less-than-shining ones. Now, I believe Harry needs to spend some time on his spell lexicon while you discuss values clarification with me, Draco."
Harry knew enough to recognise a blatant hint like that. He pushed back his chair and stood up.
Draco obviously wanted to stall, though. "What about the clearing away? My turn, I think."
That's a first, Draco practically demanding to do a chore.
"We'll have an amnesty on household work this evening," said Snape, giving a flick of his wand. The dishes began to sail towards the cupboards, cleaning themselves en route. Harry grinned. Sometimes, he thought he'd never get used to how . . . magical the wizarding world could be.
The charm was obviously lost on Draco, who clearly hadn't even noticed the spell. He was groaning, and rolling his eyes for good measure. "Oh, very well. The book, then. For a Muggle, it had some points to make, I suppose."
"The book isn't a Muggle," drawled Snape.
"Very funny."
"Let's start with the chapter you found the most interesting."
Harry was trying not to overhear--or at least look like he was-- as he walked away, but he almost snorted when he heard Draco's reply. He couldn't help it.
"Oh, that's easy enough to decide. Sexteen."
"Sixteen?"
"Sexteen. His title, not mine. What, didn't you read the book, Dad?"