"I certainly didn't notice any such ludicrous chapter title. But if you wish to discuss the chapter we shall, by all means. Merlin knows, you may well need the information, considering your current liaison with Miss Miller--"
"I told you, I don't kiss and tell," said Draco in a voice so smug it was smarmy.
Harry shut his door and leaned against it, feeling winded by all the undercurrents flowing through that conversation. Or maybe he felt short of breath because of something else. Now he knew what that goofy look on Draco's face had meant, earlier that day at the pool.
Draco had slept with Rhiannon Miller.
Quite when, Harry wasn't sure, but he was certain of his conclusion. Draco had definitely gone all the way with the girl. That much had been obvious from the tone of voice he'd used, that you don't know as much as you think tone.
It's Draco's business, not yours, Harry told himself. Of course. Being brothers didn't give him the right to pry. But still, Harry couldn't control the awful sinking feeling in his stomach.
Draco had slept with Rhiannon Miller, and when he found out that she was a Muggle, that he'd touched a Muggle, like that . . . oh, God. Harry had been worried before that Draco might react badly to the truth, but now he was sure that Draco was going to blame Rhiannon for everything. He'd probably kill her. Or maim her, at the least.
He was, after all, the same young man who had tried to poison the last people who had seriously offended him.
And besides, when you were used to magic being a part of your daily life, you tended to think that what you did to people didn't really matter as much. Magic could undo most damage, so you didn't have to think as hard about not inflicting it in the first place.
Draco was definitely used to magic solving things.
That wouldn't matter to the Aurors, though. If Draco levelled his wand at a Muggle, with intent to harm . . .
Harry shuddered, and tried to get his mind off it. Nothing he could do about it at the moment, right? Probably, nothing he could do, full stop. He'd already tried telling Draco that Rhiannon was a Muggle. He'd tried dozens of times. Or seemed like, anyway. And he wouldn't listen, no matter what Harry said.
Draco was going to have to learn the truth for himself.
Harry just hoped that when Draco did, he wasn't alone with Rhiannon Miller.
A couple of hours later, Harry heard the door creaking open. He laid his spell lexicon aside, not that he'd got much done in any case. He couldn't concentrate on spells when he was so worried about his brother. He'd ended up talking the whole thing over with Sals.
That hadn't done much good. The snake never had really grasped the difference between a wizard and a Muggle, after all.
"Still up?" asked Draco lightly. The tone sounded forced.
"It's not even gone nine. Of course I'm up. Draco . . ."
"Don't. I don't want to talk about it."
"It?"
Draco made a scoffing noise as he began to unbutton his shirt. "I can read you like a scroll, Harry. I know what you're thinking."
"You do?"
"Yes. And I'd just like to point out that if you keep playing the good son all the time, it doesn't leave a lot of room for me to be anything except the bad son, all right?"
Oh, that. Harry waved a hand sort of haphazardly. "I'm not that good a son. I mean, I promised Dad something today and I'm about to break it already."
"You're daft, then." Draco shrugged off his shirt, dropping it to the floor as though he still expected a house-elf to tidy for him.
"I thought you didn't want me to play the good son."
"I also don't want you upsetting Dad for no good reason."
Dad. Harry almost gulped, considering how defensive Draco had been about the name, just a short while ago. But just then, he'd said it easily enough. "I have good reason. It's about Rhiannon. You . . . er . . ."
"I what?"
Harry meant to say something like You have to be prepared in case she's a Muggle like I thought, he really did. But somehow, what came out instead was, "You're sleeping with her, aren't you?"
Draco swivelled his head to stare straight at Harry, his silver eyes glittering. It seemed like it took forever before he replied. When he finally did, his voice was frosty, clear through. "And if I am? What's it to you?"
"I . . . God, Draco. You barely know her!"
"That's for me to judge, surely." Draco turned away and finished changing into his pyjamas. "I can't see that you have any cause for concern."
At that, Harry did gulp.
"Well? Do you?"
When it came right down to it, Harry found that he couldn't break his promise to his father. Not because he couldn't break a promise; he wasn't above that. He couldn't break this one, though, not when it wouldn't do any good. Draco wasn't going to listen to him. But if Harry wasn't going to bring up Rhiannon's Muggle heritage, then he had to say something to explain why he'd just asked what he'd asked!
"Er . . . I, um . . . I was wondering if you took the proper precautions, that's all," he said faintly.
"Contraception spells?" Draco's eyes went a little bit glassy, again. "Assuming we've gone far enough to need them, what makes you think I could manage them without the Ministry jumping down my wand for unauthorised use of magic? Or did you think I found a way to bring my girl here without either you or Severus knowing?"
"I was thinking more about her." Harry swallowed. "I mean, Muggles have these pills, and there's always condoms--"
"This is really not something I care to discuss."
Harry felt his face flare again. He didn't think he'd ever been so embarrassed.
"What's got into you, Harry? You don't have perfect manners by any stretch of the imagination, but this is a new low, even for you. If you were dating someone, I guarantee I wouldn't be asking if the girl puts out!"
"I didn't mean that--"
"Merlin's arse you didn't." Draco folded down the covers on his bed and slid underneath them. "She's a wonderful special person and we're in love, and that makes everything right, and that's all that matters. So you're not to give her any knowing looks tomorrow. Is that clear?"
"As if I would!"
"Because you don't know anything, anyway. All you have are assumptions."
By then, though, Harry had a lot more than that. Draco might like to tell himself that he didn't kiss and tell, but if you read between the lines . . . things were clear enough.
"Good night, Draco," he said, trying not to sound as worried as he felt.
"Good night." Draco's own voice was stiff.
It was a long time that night before Harry fell asleep and when he did, his dreams were filled with vague, foreboding images. A gigantic grandfather clock, several storeys tall, making a deep booming noise every time it chimed. Draco, sitting on the floor of his room in Slytherin, parchments scattered all around him as he rocked back and forth, back and forth. Hermione and Ron, arguing earnestly with Harry, saying over and over again, "But Harry . . ."
And Harry wouldn't listen.
------------------------------------------------------
The next morning they Apparated to Exeter, into the abandoned back alley they usually used, and walked from there to Rhiannon's house. She greeted Draco with a kiss that Harry was pretty sure was supposed to be a peck, but turned into something quite a bit more drawn-out. Her eyes were sparkling when she pulled away.
"I missed you," Harry heard her whisper.
Draco's hand cupped her backside briefly as he murmured something against her ear.
Harry turned away, embarrassed. It seemed clearer than ever to him that Draco and Rhiannon were lovers, now. The mere fact that he would touch her so familiarly, and in front of Snape, too-- it spoke volumes, it really did.
Harry almost wished Rhiannon's obnoxious uncle was around, since he was pretty sure Draco would keep his hands off the girl in front of him.