Author Notes: Written for the anonymous exchange on livejournal at hpslashnotsmut. The request was for plot post HBP where Harry had to deal with Draco after the events of the book and that they still get into a relationship. Also she wanted mentor!Snape and it's Snape, who am I to resist that request?

Beta'd by Rakina, Arenas, and Xos2ed

Part Three

Harry barely was able to prevent Malfoy from cracking his head on the floor by twisting them as they fell so Harry hit the ground instead. Gasping, he saw lights dancing before his eyes, unable to move. His eyes fell shut, and his hand rested lightly on Malfoy's lower back.

"Prat," he exhaled after a long moment. He pushed the lifeless body off him, lowering the blond's body to the floor. Malfoy's eyes were shut, which worried Harry until he saw the slow rise and fall of his chest and his eyes darting behind his lids. Dreaming, or more likely unconscious from Apparating; either was welcome. Seeing Malfoy stare out vacantly was enough to give anyone gooseflesh.

Harry gazed around the room, inhaling musty air. Dust hung in the air illuminated by the gap in the curtains covering the window. It felt like ages since he had been here. Rubbing his stiff neck and sore tailbone, he levitated Malfoy onto the couch, before standing.

Crossing the room unimpeded he threw open the window looking out into the vast backyard. Harry reached up, undid the lock on the window and hefted it open. Fresh air raced into the room and Harry couldn't help but close his eyes while inhaling. Ages had passed since he had been in the country and he hadn't realized how much he had missed it. Missed this house. His fingers traced trails of dust over the piano, and he carefully lifted the cover off the keys. His fingers found the C key and he plunked it, glancing at Malfoy. The blond was still asleep, but he didn't look to be in any pain.

Harry pulled off the sheet that had been draped over the stool and seated himself upon it. He wasn't sure what he was going to play as one hand ran up and down the scales slowly. He wondered idly if Malfoy had ever played a duet before as his fingers finally caught onto a tune. Brahms' Lullaby. He snorted at his own predictability as he played through the song. He was rusty, he admitted as his fingers ran astray and he played some awfully harsh-sounding chords, but considering he hadn't touched a piano since the war had ended he was amazed at how easily it all came back to him.

"Harry."

His fingers slipped off the keys and he bowed his head. A lone tear curled down his cheek and silently he closed the lid over the keys shielding them from sight. Ghostly arms wrapped over his neck and he was suddenly flooded with memories. He squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered as sobs threatened to overtake him.

"Harry, come and eat, you've been playing that thing for hours now."

"Coming, Ginny."

She laughed, her brown eyes sparkling warmly as he entered the kitchen, wrapping his arms around her waist.

He nuzzled her neck, inhaling lavender and vanilla. "Love you so much," he murmured, his arms tightening around her, too afraid to let go. The bulge of her stomach, his child, pressed against him and his hand went to rest on it. "Love you too."

Ginny kissed the side of his mouth and his eyes locked with hers. He ran his fingers through her wine-colored hair, before framing her face and kissing her gently.

The ghost arms squeezed him tightly, before disappearing with the memory. With watery eyes, he turned his head to look at where Malfoy was still sleeping peacefully.

"Merlin, Ginny, this is so messed up."

He wiped at his eyes with the heel of his palm and went towards the front door. He exited the house and leaned against the front door, inhaling sharply. Malfoy wouldn't be going anywhere, and if something bad happened to him the bracelet would heat and he would go back immediately. But first, he needed to make a few visits.

Harry shoved his hands in his jean pockets, his trainers squelching in the muddy road as he made his way down the unpaved road. He stopped in front of a small house with an overgrown lawn, frowning. He could hear the faint strains of a wireless from the open window and hoped that was a good sign. Going up the stone path, he lifted the knocker and let it go three times, before stepping backwards.

Warm May air surrounded him, easing the chill from his bones, and the memories from his mind.

"Who is it?"

A huge grin split Harry's face at the familiar voice. "Harry, ma'am."

"Harry?" The door opened a crack and Harry tried his best to look apologetic. "Harry!" The door swung all the way open, revealing the elderly woman he had hoped to see.

"Mrs. Hollingberry."

Harry was suddenly enveloped in a large, bone-crushing hug. His arms went around the frail woman as he returned the gesture. He wasn't expecting the smack on the shins with her cane. Harry doubled over, his mouth open in a silent scream of pain as he gripped his throbbing leg.

"Just where have you been, young man?" she scolded, and Harry raised his hands to his ears in protective manner. He didn't think they'd survive the abuse after what Hermione had done at the beginning of the week.

His voice was an octave higher as he answered, "Working, ma'am."

She eyed him up and down, and he knew she could tell he had been crying a few minutes ago. "Working, my weathered arse." Harry sighed, still massaging his bruised leg. "What happened to you, child?"

"I—"

Ester clicked her tongue reprovingly and ushered him into her house before shutting the door behind them. Her home always smelled of fresh linen, and that never failed to surprise him.

Whiskers blinked lethargically at him, before leaping off his chair and going over to rub between his legs multiple times.

"Hullo, Whiskers."

The cat meowed plaintively, and Harry bent over lifting the Siamese cat into his arms.

"Sit," the elderly woman instructed, pushing him towards Whiskers' recliner. Harry went without much fuss and sat in the warm chair. "Now just what is going on?"

"I—I'm here with a friend."

An arched brow told him more than her next words that she expected more, and perhaps thought there was something deeper to his words. "A friend?"

"He's ill, and his family was unable to take care of him anymore," Harry explained, pulling a cover story out of thin air. He really had to think of a better one for Malfoy's sudden appearance in his life, but this one worked for now, and maybe if he built on it, he'd be able to convince all his other neighbors of it.

"Oh, the poor dear, what's the matter with him?"

"No one is sure." He felt safe at least saying that much.

She scanned his face, her dark eyes sweeping over his form searchingly. "And you left him alone?"

Harry opened and closed his mouth a few times, before a blush coloured his cheeks. "Yes."

"Harry James!"

Harry turned away to hide his smile. He did have the oddest choice in company, he reflected. They all liked to scold him. "I need to ask you a favor, I hoped I wouldn't be leaving him alone for too long."

"You really must invest in a phone, dear."

"Yes, ma'am." Harry knew she was right, but at the time he had bought the house he and Ginny had just wanted

to be alone. "I'll look into that."

"Good. Now what is this favor you're wanting?"

Harry worried his lower lip as he stroked the soft fur of the cat on his lap. "I need you to 'babysit' my friend when I'm at work."

"Is that all?"

"What?"

She patted his cheek and mussed his hair, before stamping her cane once. "Dear, I would love to watch your friend…what is his name by the way?"

"Draco, Draco Malfoy."

"Odd name."

Harry shrugged. "He grew up in an odd family."

"Harry, that is an incredibly rude thing to say." Her eyes twinkled and Harry scowled. "Now, when do you need me to come over?"

"Tomorrow morning at seven, if that is all right with you," he hastened to add. He didn't want to pressure her into making this decision. The mere fact that she would need to be taught how to feed the blond, and the idea that Malfoy could wake up at any time sat heavily in his mind. Also, after his two year absence, he really did not deserve her help at all. Certainly, he had penned her the odd letter here and there, but they hadn't been as close as they'd been after Ginny- no, he wouldn't think about her.

Ester hummed thoughtfully, her cane hitting out a steady rhythm on the old threadbare carpeting.

"Will Misty-love be there?"

Harry grinned. He'd go and fetch his cat that night; the ball of fur would be extremely angry at him for leaving her in the first place. His grin faded as he realized that he was seriously considering staying the night in his house. He wasn't sure he could do it. "Yes."

"Lovely, I'll bring Whiskers with me as well."

Silence stretched between them at that proclamation, and Harry stood slowly, waiting for Whiskers to jump off his lap first. "I need to get back."

The gray-haired woman followed him to the door. "Don't be a stranger, Harry."

A pang of guilt hit him so strongly he almost needed to grab the doorframe, almost, but he didn't let it show how badly he felt. "I won't," Harry replied. "Thank you for doing this for me. You really didn't have to."

"Pish-tosh, of course I did, now get home to your friend."

"Yes, ma'am." He pecked her cheek fondly as she squeezed his arms. "See you tomorrow."

The walk back to his tiny cottage of a home felt longer than it was. His hand rested on the rusty doorknob that he couldn't bring himself to turn. A part of him was telling him to run, now, while he still had the chance. It was only Malfoy in there, not someone he actually cared about.

He turned the knob and opened the door.

Draco knew at once that his surroundings were different. For one thing, Azkaban had never been this quiet – the screams and cries of prisoners were non-stop day and night – and for another it never smelled like his favorite brand of tea. With great trepidation, he opened his eyes, momentarily blinded by sunlight filtering through the Venetian blinds.

Draco sat up, uncertain of his situation. If he had died, this was an awful funny sort of afterlife. The room was airy and open, the only furniture being the bed he was lying on and the bureau with mirror directly across from him. On the bureau there was a glass vase holding a bunch of lilacs, their sweet scent mingling with the smell of mint tea. The light, twinkling notes from a piano in another room drifted through the room and calmed him.

"Oh my."

Draco turned his head towards the startled voice and saw an elderly lady standing in the doorframe, holding a cup of tea. His favorite tea. He narrowed his eyes, taking in her appearance shrewdly. Muggle, he determined after a moment. There wasn't even a hint of magic around her.

"You're awake."

"So it would seem," he drawled, frowning at the rasping quality of his voice. He clutched his throat in concern.

While underused, it shouldn't have sounded like that. The cup and saucer were pushed into his hands gently, and he realized, much to his embarrassment, that he couldn't keep his hands from trembling.

"Here," the old woman took first the saucer and then the cup away from him, setting them on the bedside table.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she brought the cup up to his cracked lips with steady hands, and he took a deep sip. He sighed as the heavenly drink slid down his throat, soothing the raw feeling and warming him from head to toe.

"If you are wondering where Harry is, I'm afraid you just missed him," she told him.

"Harry?" he questioned wearily. If this was a dream, it was a rather mean one, and odd. But he hadn't dreamt in ages so he brushed aside that idea right away. No, either he really was dead, or something had happened, something he couldn't remember. After all, there had to be a damn good explanation as to why a Muggle woman was taking care of him, and why he was in these atrocious pajamas.

"Harry Potter," she answered, setting the empty teacup on the saucer.

"Potter?" Draco blurted out before he could stop himself.

"So, you are awake then."

Both Draco and the strange woman turned towards the door to see Harry standing there in what appeared to be a Auror uniform, a high level one at that. The other man stood differently as well, more world-weary but confident in himself, a vast change from the scrawny, pathetic nineteen-year-old he had once been.

"He just woke up."

Potter nodded, a small frown marring his features. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Why do you care, Potter?"

Potter sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Ma'am, if you'd excuse us—"

"I'll leave now. Don't let him get you down, dear," she whispered, as if Draco couldn't hear her less than five feet away.

"I won't." The soft smile on Potter's face didn't surprise him at all. It would be like him to befriend every Muggle in sight.

"There's a good lad," she murmured, kissing his forehead before leaving the two of them alone in the room.

Draco watched as Potter made his way to stand next to the window, leaning against its edge. The other man seemed no more inclined to speak to him than he did to Potter.

"Well?" he bit out in irritation.

Potter turned, expressionless. "I'm supposed to take care of you; it's my duty to wonder if you feel better. I can leave if you are."

"Is that why you showed up so soon?"

"No. I showed up because you were frightened and this bloody thing wanted to burn the flesh from my arm."

He pushed back the sleeve of his robe to reveal a metal bracelet. One that bore a strange resemblance to the ones mothers put on their younger children.

"It should have."

Potter scowled, but the malice Draco had been expecting wasn't there. No, Potter was angry, but he also appeared resigned, maybe even relieved. Not the emotions he had intended on evoking.

"I'm sure you wished it would," Harry muttered, before peering between the blinds.

Draco watched him uncertain of what had just happened. Potter wasn't acting like he should and the unfamiliarity of the situation nettled him. He frowned, bringing his trembling arms to his chest, crossing them.

"Where am I?"

"Ester didn't tell you?"

Draco shook his head. "No, the daft old woman said nothing except that you would explain."

"She's not daft."

"What?" Potter turned to look at him again, his eyes glazed with a sheen of tears. "For Merlin's sake Potter, you aren't crying are you?"

The dark-haired man seemed confused by his question, before raising a hand to his eyes. Draco itched to throw a hex at Potter for being such a child. It wasn't like there was anything worth crying over in the room, aside from the ugly clothing he was wearing and he supposed his hair was mussed beyond saving.

"Damn it!" Potter swore, turning his attention back to the window.

"Potter, will you just tell me where the fuck I am!" Draco spat, trying not to slide back down under the covers. He was so tired, so very tired, but he'd be damned if he let Potter know it.

"Swaledale."

"Come again?" Surely he hadn't just heard that they were in sheep country, there was no way Potter would kidnap him and bring him here. Especially if he was still going to work – the journey would be hell. Potter rounded on him, his eyes red-rimmed, and Draco sneered. "Still crying, Potter? One would think you enjoyed kidnapping me, not hated it. What kind of Auror are you?

"You know what, Malfoy, shut up," Potter hissed, his eyes flashing. The other man crossed the room to the door, anger in each step. Finally a normal response, Draco thought victoriously. That was, until Potter had to add. "You know nothing, nothing at all."

It really wasn't fair, he rationalized when Potter slammed the door behind him. The black-haired man had never been that melodramatic before. If he wanted any answers at all, Draco supposed he'd have to cozy up to Potter. He shivered and sank down beneath the blankets.

Harry slumped onto the couch and closed his eyes. His Auror robes had been shrugged off and laid in a pile on the floor along with his shoes. He had known for some time that Malfoy was going to start questioning things. He had known it for weeks now. More and more often the blond had woken up confused and disoriented, but never this alert. Harry wouldn't be surprised if this wasn't temporary any longer, that Malfoy would in fact be in his right mind once again. He couldn't say he wasn't grateful because he was. He was grateful that he would be able to leave this house.

Malfoy had no right to ask after him, none whatsoever. He had been in no position to question him. The prat was weaponless for Merlin's sake! Harry gripped his hair and pulled it tightly.

"What's the matter, love?"

"Nothing." She stared at him, folding her arms across her chest in disbelief. Wind through the window swept around the base of her dress, flaring it with each gust. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. "I've got a surprise for you."

Ginny smiled, clasping his hand gently with her own. Harry grinned. Did she know how much he loved her? He spun her in a circle, just to hear her laugh, before leading her down the hallway towards their room.

"Close your eyes," he instructed.

She laughed, her eyes slipping shut. "What is going on?"

"You'll see."

"Even with my eyes shut?" Ginny teased.

Harry pinched her and she laughed again. He prodded her gently into their bedroom, unable to resist grabbing her bottom. Ginny yelped, and Harry had to cover her eyes with his hand as she made to open them.

"No peeking."

"But, Harry-" Harry guided her over to the window and turned her around to face their bureau. "This had better be good."

"You'll love it," he whispered, pulling his hand from her eyes. "Open them."

He watched as she blinked, staring around their room searching for the difference. Finally she spotted it, he could tell immediately. Her freckled face lit up like the sun and she spun around, wrapping her arms around his neck, drawing him down for a kiss.

"I love them, Harry. They're gorgeous."

"I'm glad," he breathed, resting his head on her forehead, inhaling the sweet scent of the fresh lilacs on their dresser. Her warm, brown eyes met his, sparkling. He could hardly breathe as he asked, "Marry me?"

"Yes."

Harry's eyes were forced open when something heavy landed on him. Misty stared at him disdainfully as if she could tell what he was thinking. He ran a hand across his cat's back, sighing heavily. He needed to get out of there and soon. Before Malfoy could work out what had him so bothered.

"Good morning, Mr. Malfoy," Ester greeted cheerfully as she entered his bedroom. It had been two days since Draco had last seen Potter. There was nothing he could do about it, confined to this room as he was. It shouldn't have upset him that Potter had finally buggered off after a week of constant attention.

"What's so good about it?" he grumbled, swinging his feet off the bed. He could finally walk again. Not for great distances, but he managed to get around the house easily enough. At least, when Potter wasn't there forcing him to lie down and not move as he crammed soup down his throat. When asked why, he never got the same answer. If he had wanted mothering, he could have asked his mother to do it.

Ester scolded him half-heartedly as she went around the bed to throw open the curtains. "Where's Mr. Potter this morning?"

"Out," Draco bit out. If the crazy old woman had no idea where her precious Potter was it wasn't his problem.

"For two days now?"

Draco scowled. "If you knew he was gone, why even bother asking?"

"Draco." There was a harshness to her tone he wasn't anticipating. She had never snapped at him before, and had been extremely patient in everything. Maybe Potter's presence was a buffer, and now he was going to find out what this Muggle had to say to him.

"You have not been given permission to use my first name."

She continued on as if she hadn't heard him. "If you think you can get away with sulking all day long you are entirely mistaken. Just because Mr. Potter has left you alone does not give you the right to behave in such an appalling manner. I, for one, find it a disgrace to have you waste away pining in this bedroom."

"I am not pining!"

Ester snorted inelegantly and Draco's eyes bulged. She was serious, she really thought he was wasting away over Potter's absence. He was not some love struck female! He was Draco Lucien Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy Estate, and he would be damned if he let some old bint talk to him in that manner. He'd show her that he wasn't 'pining'.

His feet hit the cold, hardwood floor and he brushed past her without a word.

Harry groaned deeply as he sank further into his seat at the restaurant. Amanda was poking him with the end of a spoon and Brigit was just staring at him like she didn't even know who he was anymore. Two months… it had been two months since he had taken Draco Malfoy from his flat to his old home and it had been more than a week since he had been able to bring himself to check up on the bastard.

Although, if the twins were going to continue doing this, he didn't think he'd have another choice. The waitress, a pretty, blonde thing with legs that went on for miles, shot him a sympathetic smile as she waltzed past.

Clearly, it was time to leave.

"Uncle Harry, why aren't you talkin' to us?" Amanda whined, putting the spoon down on the table with a dramatic huff. "Cause you haven't been, you know. Are you sick?"

"Maybe he's gots the flu like Draco did," Brigit said seriously, bringing her small, ketchup-covered hand to his cheek. Harry resigned himself to the little girl's ministrations as she felt his head in imitation of what her mother would do.

Amanda shook her head, dismissing the idea out of hand. "Nah, can't be that, he'd be all still."

"Well, he isn't talkin', like Draco weren't," Brigit pointed out, staring down at her red hands in confusion. Harry sighed, picked up his napkin, grabbed her hands and wiped off the ketchup. He should have known better than to let her eat chips instead of a normal meal. Ketchup always ended up everywhere, usually on her trousers when she would drop a chip on them. He'd been lucky that night, she had been fairly careful while eating.

Amanda on the other hand, had a smear of jam down her shirt from her sandwich.

If he had known that all they wanted were chips and sandwiches, he could have stayed at Ron and Hermione's and made the food there. Brigit snatched the napkin from Harry's fingers and proceeded to clean off his cheek haphazardly.

She pulled back, beaming. "There."

"Am I better now?" he asked.

Amanda shook her head. "No, you sound sad."

"Mandy's right, Uncle Harry, why are you so sad today?"

Harry shrugged, attempting to smile, positive it came out more as a grimace. "Let's go and clean you girls up; does that sound good?"

"Will you stop bein' sad and stuff if we say yes?" Amanda asked, clearly thinking he'd say no. As if he could – it was getting late and they needed baths.

"I promise that I'll be really happy, and stop being sad and stuff," he said with mock-seriousness. The twins looked at each other skeptically. Harry crossed his fingers beneath the table that they believed him because if that flighty waitress came over just to ooze sympathy at him one more time, he'd hex her, Muggle restaurant or not.

Brigit finally broke the long stare with her twin sister and nodded her head, curly red hair flying everywhere. "Okay, Uncle Harry, but only 'cause you promised."

Harry pulled out his wallet and chucked a few notes on the table before sliding out, shoving Amanda out of the way playfully. The four-year-old giggled, and tugged on his hand when he pretended to get stuck.

"I'm afraid I can't move," he lamented, bowing his head just so that he could observe Amanda and Brigit without them noticing. Brigit came over with her hands on her hips and a flustered expression that was so like her grandmother's that Harry almost laughed. Molly would be proud.

He finally let them "pull" him out from behind the table and made a show of staggering about once he was out. Before they could stop him, he hefted each of them up into his arms by their waists.

"Ready to go?" he asked. He felt better. Maybe ketchup to the face was all he had needed. Ron would certainly be harassing him a lot less at work. How many times did he need to say he didn't miss the ferret? He chose to ignore the fact that he was going to take his nieces there right then.

With one little girl in each arm, he wound his way through the tables to the exit. He'd go to his flat first, and from there he would take the Floo home.

"Damn it, Potter," Draco snarled as he went through the fifth cabinet in the kitchen only to find nothing at all. He jumped when he felt a hand touch his shoulder. No one was supposed to be in this house but him and that blasted cat of Potter's that didn't know when to leave him the hell alone. So, unless the cat suddenly grew and developed very human fingers then--

"Language, Malfoy," came Potter's chiding tone. He turned around so fast he almost fell over. Giggling from the doorway had him craning his neck to see over Potter's taller frame. "There are children in the room."

Draco sneered and ducked under Potter's arm as the other man made to grab something off the top shelf. It turned out to be a can of chicken noodle soup. Delightful! He swore if he never saw another bowl of soup it would be too soon.

"I am not eating that."

He eyed the soup warily as he sat down on a chair at the kitchen table. Potter blew some dust off the top of the can, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "I don't blame you."

The two girls gawked at him as they made to sit on the same chair across from him, their bright blue eyes watching him expectantly. He couldn't even begin to fathom what they could want from him. Potter seemed unconcerned by this, and just petted them both on the head distractedly as he went over to the bin and chucked the unopened can inside.

"You're awake."

"You sound like Ester," Draco shot back, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. He wasn't used to having children stare at him in concern. He wasn't used to children at all.

The one on the right side of the chair cocked her head to the side, her pigtails falling across her face. Draco watched as Potter moved forward and tied the yellow ribbon that had come undone, before dropping a kiss to her head.

"Who's Ester?" The other girl asked, drawing his attention.

Draco grunted, barely resisting drumming his fingers on the table. Potter was still puttering around the kitchen opening and closing the same cupboards Draco had just rummaged through moments ago. If Potter didn't believe him when he had implied there was a lack of food, it wasn't his problem. He gazed at the other man's back as it tensed, his shoulder blades drawing together, and then sagging forward in defeat.

Without moving, he said, "We'll go to the market tomorrow."

"Market?" Draco scowled.

Potter turned around with a resigned expression. "Yes, that place where you buy food? The market."

Draco's scowl took on a hint of loathing. "I am not doing something as plebian as going to the market."

"Oh, yes you are. You're really not in any position to argue this either. I can very easily make you go on your own." Draco's jaw dropped in shock, a rebuttal hanging on the tip of his tongue, but Potter wouldn't let him say it. "And before you even think it, I will tell Ester some sob story about how your self-esteem is so low you're afraid of what will happen when you go. Then you'll get the pleasure of having her take you to the market instead. I'm sure you're terribly excited to hear about the time Whiskers caught a mouse that had been building a nest in her walls."

"Bastard."

The girls giggled, and bowed their heads together as if to hide them. Potter smirked, and told the girls to follow him to the bathroom so he could wash them. Draco got the feeling this would be a very long night.

"Uncle Harry?"

"Yes, darling?" Harry worked the baby shampoo into Brigit's hair as Amanda played with a dragon figurine at the other end of the bathtub. He tipped his head and looked into her face curiously. She giggled, pushing at his nose with a soapy hand.

She gasped when he took the opportunity to upturn a cup of warm water over her head. Brigit spluttered making Amanda giggle. She turned her head and stuck her tongue out at the other girl, and Harry took the opportunity to flick some water at the older of the twins. Maybe if he distracted them, they'd forget any questions they had. Chief among them about Draco's continued presence in his home when he was better.

"So, Draco's all better then?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, love."

"He looks better," Amanda commented as if she had good authority on the matter. "He was talking and everything."

"He even said a bad word."

"Yup, he did; Mummy wouldn't be happy to know that."

"What does bast-"

Amanda looked up at Harry in confusion when he covered her mouth to prevent her from finishing her question. He could just about hear Hermione shrieking in his ear about how her babies learned such language. He sighed, letting his hand fall into the water.

"Why'd you put your hand on my mouth, Uncle Harry?"

"Because you were about to say a bad word." He glanced around, before leaning in. He mentally grinned when the girls followed suit, clearly excited to be sharing a secret with him. Harry spared a thought as to what Malfoy could be doing. The house was standing and the bracelet on his wrist was cool, so it was nothing dangerous, but that still didn't prevent him from being curious. "Do you want to know why I don't want you repeating that word?"

They shook their heads, sending droplets of water flying through the air. "Why?"

"Because your Mum scares the pants off me when she's angry, that's why." He lowered his voice dramatically before adding, "Do you think you could help me by not ever saying that word ever again?"

Brigit's eyes went wide and she was already nodding before he could finish the request. Amanda, however, did not look persuaded.

"I'll take you out for ice cream later."

"'Kay!"

Harry suspected that one day ice cream would no longer sway them, but for now he was more than happy to indulge them. As long as Hermione or Ron never heard them say that word he was safe, he just wished he knew for how long.