"Maybe you should tell me the truth!" Rhiannon stamped a foot. "Draco Snape, you knew perfectly well before this that I don't have the kind of . . . of . . . talent you do, so why the big shock the bell went ting-a-ling for me and boom for the rest of you?"
"Quiet," hissed Draco, giving her a warning glance even as his gaze flicked toward where Harry was standing
It was too painful to watch, Harry decided. Rhiannon was about to get tossed aside like an old sock; the least Harry could do was let her know that she could speak her mind about it. "Don't worry about me," he said, dropping into an overstuffed chair covered in horrible paisley fabric. "Dad and I both know that you told her. And he knows that it was your shampoo that let you, so--"
"Sweet Merlin," breathed Draco, his voice almost hollow.
"Actually, he didn't seem too angry about it, considering--"
Rhiannon stamped her foot again. "Shampoo? What on earth are you going on about?"
"You can say magic," Harry told her. "You can talk about it as much as you like. We know that Draco told you about it. I mean, about us."
"Oh." Rhiannon seemed to need a moment to think that over. "Well, that's good, then. But Draco . . . what's wrong?"
By the end, her voice was plaintive.
"Nothing," said Draco, finally pushing away from the counter.
"The bell upset you--"
"It didn't."
"Then why do you look like . . . like you've iced over?" When Draco said nothing to that, Rhiannon's nostrils flared. "You're obviously angry. You won't even look me in the eye! Don't tell me it's nothing!"
Harry had heard enough. "Yeah, don't tell her it's nothing, Draco, not when you know well enough that it's not nothing, not to you."
"What's not nothing?" cried Rhiannon, clasping her hands. "Did I do something-- but all I did was ring that bell . . ."
For a moment, Harry was almost convinced that he was watching her in slow motion on the telly. It seemed like her expression changed that gradually, with understanding bit by bit replacing the confusion in her eyes. And not just understanding, either. Indignation.
"The bell. The bell was like that because I'm not the same as you," she said, inhaling sharply. "But you knew that. Except . . . well, I know you knew it! But you're acting like it comes as a shock or something, like--" Her hand flew up to cover her mouth for a second. "Oh, my God. You people are strange about having magic or not, aren't you? Of course you are! It's the whole reason a place like this orphanage would even be needed! And if magical families can end up with children who don't have that kind of talent, then . . ."
Her face went as white as Draco's had, earlier. "Oh. You think that regular people can end up with children who do have magical abilities, don't you?" When Draco didn't answer, her voice went up an entire octave. Harry almost winced. "Don't you?"
"They can," said Draco, his hands shoved into his pockets. He jerked his face oddly, trying to flip his fringe to the side. "I know plenty of witches and wizards who come from Muggle families."
Rhiannon's eyes narrowed. "Muggle!"
"It's just a word we use--" said Harry, but Rhiannon wasn't listening to him.
"And you thought I was one of these . . . half-witches!" Rhiannon accused, pointing a finger at Draco. "You did, you did! Is that why you kept asking me to try spells Monday at lunch? I thought you were joking when you said that if only I tried my very best, I might be able to do a little magic! You thought I was . . . somebody with repressed magic, or something, is that it? Until that bell told you differently! And now look at you, pale and shaking and looking like-- oh, never mind. For you to think this whole time, this whole time-- and then be disappointed!"
Draco made a croaking sound, and then tried again. "Rhiannon--"
"I don't need this," she said, shaking her head. "Muggle . . . what a nasty-sounding word. I don't need any of it, especially not a boyfriend who never saw me for me. You can just go to hell, Draco Snape, and take your damned wand with you. I'm through with you!"
With that, Rhiannon Miller spun on a heel and walked out the door, her head held high.
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Coming Soon in A Year Like None Other:
Chapter 16: "No Man is an Island"
Comments very welcome,
Aspen in the Sunlight
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Chapter 16: No Man is an Island
http://archive.skyehawke.com/story.php?no=13093&chapter=16
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A Summer Like None Other
by Aspen in the Sunlight
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Chapter Sixteen:
No Man is an Island
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There were only a few times in Draco's life when he'd felt like time was standing still. The first day he'd ridden a proper broom. That evening in the clearing on Samhain, watching Death Eaters grovel, one and all, while Harry Potter stood proud and defiant. The moment he'd heard Severus claim him as his son for the first time. The instant he'd seen the pit of snakes in France, and had realised what Lucius meant to do to him.
And now.
As Rhiannon shoved past him, her long blonde hair sailing out behind her, Draco felt as if not just time, but the whole world had frozen solid, himself included. He began to shiver as the blood in his vessels turned to icicles. Sharp icicles that were stabbing him everywhere, from the inside out.
He hadn't known the world could hold so much pain.
Gasping with the force of it, he lurched forward and grabbed the counter with unsteady hands, only to realise that his brain must be frozen, too. He should go after her, he should make sure she was all right, he should--
A sudden, horrid thought began clanging inside his mind, over and over. But she's a Muggle, she's a Muggle, she's a Muggle, she's a Muggle--
He opened his mouth wide, struggling for breath, but it seemed like he couldn't suck any in, no matter how he tried.
Finally a groan escaped him, an ugly noise that made it sound like he was going to sick up any instant. Or at least, Harry must have thought so, since he suddenly moved close enough to start patting Draco's shoulder, the touch tentative. Hesitant, almost.
It was as if he were concerned but trying not to show it. Just as he'd been concerned all along. Because he'd known, all along, hadn't he? He'd known about Rhiannon!
He'd been right, the condescending prat!
Draco's groan changed to a snarl as he whirled around. "Don't," he warned in a low voice, panting as he finally found a way to start breathing. "Don't say it. Don't start."
He didn't need to hear I told you so. Harry had told him so, over and over, and he'd been right about everything, but they both knew that. "So no point in saying it," added Draco, his voice so high and shrill that he almost winced. Instead, his rage came pouring out another way.
His wand was suddenly in his hand.
"No!" shouted Harry, drawing his own as well. He held it levelled on Draco.
For a moment, Draco was too shocked to speak. He looked down the length of Harry's wand and remembered what Harry's dark powers could do, and then he managed to gasp out his question. The only question, really. "What in Merlin's name is your problem now?"