Really, when you looked at it like that, she was barely a Muggle at all.
Though of course he didn't expect anyone else in Slytherin to see things that way.
"You may use my bathroom, if you wish," said Severus.
Draco couldn't help it; his mouth fell open from the shock. Talk about offering bait to a niffler! He'd hinted plenty of times that he wanted to have a swim in Severus' wizardspace tub back at Hogwarts, and he'd always been rebuffed. That Severus would offer his shower now . . . it told Draco something fairly significant.
For all Severus' attempts to act as though he didn't care one way or another whether Draco got Rhiannon back, he did care. He wanted to see them together.
Draco's impulse to make a shampoo joke flew straight out the window. Probably it would have been a bad move in any case, considering that his own special bottle of "shampoo" hadn't fooled Severus for so much as a day. He still felt lucky that the man hadn't had more to say on that topic. "Er . . . no," he refused, feeling like he was grasping after some way to be courteous, some way that kept slipping away. Because what he had to say wasn't particularly charming, but it was the truth: Harry wasn't the only one not fit to be seen, just now. Well, maybe Draco could sort of smooth his way into the topic. "I, er, I wouldn't want to keep you from it. Your shower, I mean."
Shite. That hadn't been very smooth at all. "I just meant, er . . . just how long were you and Harry swimming? You both look awfully knackered."
Harry flashed a toothy grin. "We didn't go swimming."
"Then what was that about another race?"
"We went outside and flew. Dad may be the better swimmer, but I've got him beat when it comes to brooms."
No doubt about it; Harry was a superb flyer. Almost as good as Draco, in fact. But to crow about it, like this, was a bit much. "Of course you have him beat! You have a Firebolt and he's still riding a Cleansweep Two that looks like it's growing things, it's so old!"
"In point of fact, I borrowed your XL." Severus gave Draco a thin smile. "I do hope you don't mind."
Draco glanced at his father and swallowed. There he'd been trying to spare the man embarrassment, and he'd ended up adding to it, instead. Severus had been on the superior broom and had still lost the race? Well, it had happened to Draco as well, although not every time. "No, I don't mind." Uncomfortable, he made a show of looking at his watch. "It's already half-past, you realise."
Harry gave him another doubtful look, but then went off to have his shower. Severus stayed with Draco for a moment more. "Are you certain this is what you want to do?"
Draco raised his chin. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Because your declaration of love sounded almost as though you were letting Harry goad you into it."
"I . . ." Draco cleared his throat. "It's been a confusing day. But that part is clear. It's about all that is, if you want the truth. I . . ." His voice dropped to a whisper. He didn't want Harry to hear the rest. But Severus had to have had a girlfriend at some point, right? Granted, he wasn't the most handsome man in the world, but he had definite presence. "I'm not exactly sure what to say to Rhiannon. I don't suppose you have any ideas?"
Severus shook his head, his lank hair swaying with the motion. "I know very little about Muggles, Draco. Quite likely, your brother is the one you should be asking."
"He knows a lot, but not about this." Draco lifted his shoulders. "You know, about what a girl would want to hear. You should hear him talk, sometimes. The only time he ever kissed a girl, he made her burst into tears, and--"
Severus' frown seemed to grow more pronounced. "Illuminating as I find that, I'd prefer you not break faith with Harry. Didn't he tell you that in confidence?"
Hmm. As far as Draco could recall, Harry hadn't said that, not specifically, but he might have thought it went without saying.
"Just . . . be yourself, Draco," Severus added. "There's little point in anything else."
Maybe so, but being himself was what had got him into this fix in the first place. Draco nodded, though, before he went into the bedroom to freshen up and change.
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Oh, Merlin. Rhiannon's singing was so beautiful that Draco had almost been able to forget his problem whenever she was on stage, but what was he going to do, now? The curtain had come down for the final time, and there she was, taking her bows, looking as gorgeous as ever, her Queen of the Night costume setting off her long blonde hair.
Time to go backstage, to see her alone, and Draco still didn't have the faintest clue what he was going to say to her.
He had no doubt, however, about what to say to Harry, who had risen from his seat the minute Draco had, clearly intending to stay right by Draco's side. It was as if he'd smeared himself with a sticking potion.
"You should wait out front," Draco said, his gaze trained on the stage. "I'm doing this alone."
Harry looked reluctant, but at least he didn't argue. Meanwhile, Severus gave Draco an encouraging nod. After that, there was nothing for it but to make his way down the aisle and up the side stairs that led to the stage area. Colin was standing there, chatting with people milling nearby after the performance. When he saw Draco, he waved for him to go on up.
Unfortunately, Rhiannon was far less welcoming. She was standing backstage, Adrian at her elbow, and when she saw Draco, the look in her eyes was cold enough to freeze a Basilisk. "What do you want?"
"Can we talk?"
"No." Rhiannon made a show of turning more fully towards Adrian. "Now, as I was trying to explain, if the new opera isn't ready, we should do one more performance of Mozart."
"With the adverts already printed?"
Rhiannon's eyes narrowed. "Well, Colin's probably got them wrong again. They were wrong for this show, after all. We can correct the dates and anything else, and--"
"It's very easy to ignore finances to focus on art, but it's not very practical, Rhiannon--"
Draco didn't particularly want to interrupt, since it might make him look even worse to Rhiannon, but he wasn't about to stand here all night listening to them debate the starting date for Monteverdi. "I really do need to talk with you."
"The last thing I need is to talk with you, though." She tossed her head as she said it.
Adrian gave Draco a critical glance, and for a moment Draco was fairly sure he was about to be ordered out. But then the older man shrugged. "I can't have scenes backstage, Rhiannon. Take care of this."
With that, he was walking away.
Rhiannon's lips were a straight, set line as she turned to face Draco. "Fine. You've got your way. And you made me look bad in front of my director. So, thanks for that."
Oh, this was getting off to a brilliant start. Well, at least he hadn't brought her expensive flowers again. Or worse, another diamond. What did she want, though? Draco wished he knew. All he could think of was one thing. It was hard to say, even though he did love her. "I . . . look, I want to apologise, all right?"
She didn't appear swayed. "So, go ahead."
With Muggles milling about, there was no question of Draco being very specific in any apology. "I wasn't trying to hurt you, Rhiannon. And I'm sorry--very sorry--that I did. I misunderstood something, that's all. I shouldn't have."
"You shouldn't have," she agreed, but she wasn't smiling. "Is your next line going to be that you won't do it again?"
Draco felt baffled. How could he possibly do it again? He knew now that she was a Muggle! "No, of course I won't. Why would you think--"
"Oh, you'd like to know what I think?" Her fabulous dress made a swishing noise as she headed toward an alcove at the far end of the backstage area. When she reached it, she whirled around, fists clenched. "I think you just want more of what you had during lunch, that day at my house."