Harry—already stripped down to his trunks and lying on his own towel on his front—lifts a hand to block the sun over the top of his sunglasses and watches Draco walk away. He disappears behind the huts separating a private resort from the rest of the beach, and when he returns a few minutes later, it’s with a man in tow: blue shorts, white bar-branded polo shirt, parasol tucked under one burly arm.