A Summer Like None Other

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or this fictional universe. JK Rowling, some publishers, and some film companies own everything. I'm not making anything from this except a hobby.

Timeline and Caveats: See Chapter 1.

Author's Note: If you'd like to see the wealth of art that was created for A Year Like None Other, please visit the Art Gallery I have set up to display the lovely things fans have created and sent me. The link is on the information page for the story.

Thanks to Mercredi for the continuing encouragement and friendship.

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A Summer Like None Other

by Aspen in the Sunlight

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Chapter Four: Balcony View

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They'd gone shopping when they left the pool. Draco had insisted. He'd said that if they were going to an opera, they were all going to be properly attired, even if it was just a local Exeter production and as awful as one could expect from such things. Opera was still opera, which meant that one wore a suit at the very least, he kept saying.

Not that he managed to get Severus to buy a new suit. He did badger Harry into it, though. Harry found it hard to say no, particularly once Draco offered to pay. Sharing money . . . that meant something to Draco. It meant they were family. So Harry followed Draco into the store the other boy had picked out and even managed not to comment when he imperiously sent Severus off to Gringotts to change more money so that he'd have enough.

Sure didn't take him long to get used to spending pounds as well as Galleons, Harry thought.

"Really a shame we can't wear dress robes," Draco said as soon as Severus had left. "They're so much smarter. But then again, I never have worn wizarding clothes to a play or opera. It's just not done."

"Shh. Discretion, remember?"

Draco waved a careless hand. "Nobody much is listening to us. But that's about to change." Taking charge then, Draco marched up to the clerk and explained what they wanted. He was actually rather rude about it. Not that the clerk seemed to notice. He could probably smell the money about to come his way.

"Now, we haven't much time," said Draco, his chin lifted. "We're to go to the opera tonight, you understand? So we expect everything to be properly fitted at once, or we'll take our business elsewhere. We want suits. Your very finest, in dark grey. And proper shirts and ties as well." Draco smirked, then. "I expect that Harry would like to hang crimson and gold around his neck. However, I'd prefer something more in the green range. Well? What are you waiting for? Hop to!"

"I wouldn't think you'd know so much about Muggle clothes," said Harry out of the corner of his mouth, as soon as the clerk stepped away.

"I don't. I merely know what's appropriate for opera," said Draco in a patronizing voice.

"You said yourself that it's just a small local theatre."

"I don't care. I have standards."

Well, if Draco wanted to enjoy his night on the town--even a town like Exeter--then good for him, Harry decided. He put up with being measured nine ways to Sunday and trying on several different suits, but started feeling irritated again when Draco just had to comment on the new shirt the clerk was sliding from between folds of tissue paper.

"Oh, that has pins in it, doesn't it?" asked Draco, eyeing it closely. "So be sure to get them all out before my brother tries it on. Every last one. It wouldn't do for him to get stuck."

Harry sighed, which Draco apparently took for more than annoyance. "No sense tempting fate," he said in a pompous voice.

"Don't be ridiculous!" snapped Harry. "I can handle it."

"Now, now--"

That was so patronizing that Harry swore he could practically feel the top of his skull blow off, he was so angry. "What? What do you think I'm going to do, grab a pin and spear myself right here in the store?"

Draco's lips suddenly curled back from his teeth as he spun around to face the clerk, who by then was shaking out the shirt. "Heard enough, have you?" He raised his voice. "You know, I thought an establishment like this would have well-trained staff, but it seems not. Do you often eavesdrop on private conversations? I've half a mind to take my business elsewhere, this instant! Well? What's wrong with you? We'll need cufflinks, won't we? Go!"

As the clerk rushed off, red-faced, Draco called after him, "Gold at the very least, mind! Platinum would be better."

Harry was practically speechless. Draco gave high-handed a new name. But the other boy wasn't through yet. The moment he and Harry were alone, he gave Harry's arms a significant look. "You haven't been sticking yourself lately, have you?"

"That's none of your business."

"Wrong," said Draco, almost coldly. "You're my brother and I'm looking out for you whether you like it or not. So?"

"Go shove your head down the loo!"

"What a Mugglish comeback."

"All right," said Harry in the most pleasant voice he could manage. "Shove your wand up your arse, then. Like that one better?"

"Shhh, discretion," mocked Draco, his teeth glinting. But then he appeared to become deadly serious. He narrowed his eyes, staring straight at Harry. "You know, I can only think that your reluctance to talk about it must mean you have been hurting yourself again. And this time, Severus doesn't know. Well, if you think I'll keep a thing like this secret, you can just think again."

"I haven't been doing anything," said Harry, fists clenching. "So don't you start telling Dad that I have. Oh, so that's it. I get it, now. You just want him to think less of me--"

"Like that could ever happen!"

"Oh, yeah, because Severus has always thought so highly of me, right."

Draco's tone of voice changed. All at once he sounded desperate. Or maybe, desperately unhappy. "I have to tell him, Harry. I just have to. Don't you understand? I promised to get you through this, and I know I can't do it by myself. You need your dad, and--"

Oh. Harry smiled a little bit ruefully. It was hard to resent Draco when it was so obvious that the other boy's motives were good. Even if he was pretty obnoxious in the way he went about things. "I haven't stuck myself lately," Harry said in a calmer voice. "Honestly, Draco. You can relax."

The earnest admission didn't seem to mean anything to Draco. "If you were, you wouldn't tell me, though."

"Oh, for God's sake. You won't believe me unless I say I've been doing it. But what if that's the lie? It could be, you know. In fact, it damned well is!"

"Is it?"

"Of course it is!"

"No of course about it."

That was so pompous that Harry lost his temper. "And how's your own summer been, eh? Iced any more fairy cakes lately?"

Draco gave him a nasty look. "Just for that I'm tempted to demand a crimson and gold shirt for you. But since I have to be seen with you, it won't do for you to like a buffoon."

"I wanted a blue tie, anyway." Harry gave him a superior look. "It's silly to stick to house colours over the summer."

"I suppose it's silly when one's colours are so very garish," said Draco haughtily. Turning away, he ignored Harry after that, but that might have been because it was time for his own fitting.

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Harry and Draco still weren't talking when Snape arrived and discreetly handed Draco a folded wad of bank notes. It didn't take Draco long, however, to do just as he'd threatened.

He waited only until they'd finished in the shop and were heading out for a bite to eat. Then he said in a casual voice that he thought Harry probably needed to see Marsha a good deal more often, since he'd overreacted to a pinned shirt.

"You're the one who overreacted." Harry turned to his father and briefly explained.

"And of course you just believe him," said Draco. "Whereas with me, you always--"

Snape didn't let him finish. "I don't doubt your word without cause, either. And you know it."

Draco seemed chastened by that. "Yes, sir," he said in a quiet voice. And then, even more quietly, "I was just worried about Harry, that's all."

Harry thought there was more to it than that, but he also thought that maybe Draco needed some real reassurance about the needles. Whatever else was going on, it did seem like his brother was genuinely worried. "Look," he said, drawing Snape and Draco both into a little alleyway. "You name the day and time, all right? And I'll pensieve it out for you to see, and you'll know. I'm not saying I'm . . . er, cured, or anything. I'm just saying, I've managed not to, all right?"

Snape seemed to sigh, slightly. "This isn't the place to discuss the matter."

"Can we borrow it, though?" asked Harry, meaning the pensieve.

"We don't need to," said Draco, obviously understanding. Well, he'd seen Dumbledore's pensieve in the headmaster's office, too. "I believe you."

"Believe me next time you ask, too," said Harry. "If I need help, I'm going to say so."

Draco looked a little bit unsure, but he merely nodded. "All right. Let's just have some dinner. And then we can go back to the shop. Our suits should be ready, by then."

Later, when they went to get them, Harry had to admit that his looked pretty good on him. He smiled and thanked Draco, and tried not to roll his eyes at the way the other boy preened.

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Harry yawned again, feeling like a nap would be just the thing. The opera Draco had picked was all right, he supposed; his brother certainly seemed to be enjoying it. But the constant singing really wasn't Harry's cup of tea. Maybe he'd appreciate it more if he could understand a word here or there.

"This is surprisingly good," whispered Draco after a fat man wearing some sort of bird costume took a bow and the curtain came down. "Of course, that notice had it half wrong. Some of the little scenes they've put on actually come from The Marriage of Figaro. And really, mixing that one with The Magic Flute is rather bizarre, don't you think?"

Harry really didn't have any sort of opinion about that.

"It's a small company, Draco," said Severus in a deep voice. "A community group, the programme explains. No doubt they designed this production around the singers they had, matching each to the part most appropriate. A full-scale opera might be beyond their capacity."

"Ah. Yes, probably so," murmured Draco, flipping through his programme. He was absently humming a section of a song they'd heard a few minutes before, but fell silent at once as the curtain began to rise.

A young woman walked sedately forward on the stage, her costume a gauzy midnight blue dress, so loose and flowing it might have been a witch's robe. It was even decorated with stars and crescent moons, just like some of the headmaster's outfits, though somehow on her the symbols looked elegant instead of comical.

Her golden-blonde hair streamed all the way down her back, but Harry was slow to notice that because the headdress she was wearing was so striking. Silver, it formed a silver half-circle behind her head, looking almost like the moon rising over water.

"The Queen of the Night," murmured Draco, leaning forward to rest his hands against the balcony.

Something about his voice sounded odd, Harry thought. When he glanced at his brother it was to see Draco's eyes gleaming, his whole body held in a pose of almost rapt attention.

Well, the song the girl was singing was rather fantastic, Harry thought. He'd never heard anything like it. The notes went so high it was a wonder anybody could hit them. They rippled through the air almost like magic, so it was easy to understand why Draco would look so enchanted. He really did love this kind of music.

Draco kept leaning forward further as he listened. His lips were parted, his breathing shallow, his hands stroking across the balcony in tempo to the notes the girl was singing.

"You're going to fall out of your chair if you aren't careful," said Harry lightly.

Draco gave no sign of having even heard. It was like his whole soul was wrapped around the music.

Harry glanced to the other side, where Snape was sitting with hands sedately folded in his lap. His father merely gave a small shake of his head, as if to say that they should leave Draco to his rapture.

And really, how long could the song last, anyway?

When it ended though, Draco still looked positively enthralled. He didn't take his eyes off the stage as the girl took a bow. His gaze followed her as she stepped back, then followed the curtain that swept down to conceal her.

He turned to his family then, his eyes still sparkling, and said something in tones of reverence. Something Harry certainly wasn't expecting to hear. It was just opera, after all.

But clearly, it was something else to Draco.

"I'm in love," he whispered, barely breathing.

Harry glanced at the curtain, then back at Draco. "You're what?"

Still that same hushed, almost worshipful tone. "In love. With . . ." Draco's fingers rapidly turned pages in the simple program he'd been given earlier. When he found what he was looking for, he sighed with happiness. "With Rhiannon Miller. Even her name is beautiful."

Harry blinked. "It sounds like a pretty regular name to me."

Draco just smiled, looking like nothing Harry could say would bother him, ever again. And that bothered Harry. "Oh, be serious. You can't be in love. You don't even know that girl."

Draco's eyes were still gleaming with an other-worldly light. Harry told himself it was just the dim glow of the lamps on the walls of their box, but Snape's eyes didn't look like that, did they?

"You aren't in love," Harry said again. "That's completely ridiculous."

"Shhh!" said an old lady in the next box over.

Only then did Harry realise that the next song had begun.

Draco turned toward the stage again, his teeth glinting. "Maybe she'll grace the stage with another song." She didn't, though, which meant that Draco's expression fell more and more as the evening wore on.

Harry kept glancing over at his father, who was sitting with folded hands and pursed lips. Harry didn't know what that meant, but he had a feeling that he wasn't the only one feeling worried.

What could Draco be thinking? You couldn't fall in love with someone you'd never met, and anyway, this Rhiannon was a Muggle. Draco should be spouting off his usual nonsense about how much they disgusted him and how a Muggle had probably sat in his chair before him and--

"There she is," said Draco when the cast took their curtain call. He leaned forward again, sighing, his arms draped over the balcony as if he was trying to slide over it so he could be closer to the girl on the stage. "Just look at her."

Rhiannon was still dressed in her Queen of the Night robes, though by then she'd taken off her headdress. Harry had to admit, she was quite beautiful. Tall and blonde and slender, she bowed gracefully and looked the picture of elegance. But what did any of that matter? Draco couldn't be in love!

"Let's see if we can go backstage," said Draco, jumping up as soon as the curtain fell again. He bounced on his heels. "I have to meet her! I have to, I have to!"

Snape stood up and spoke in a low, intense voice. "I think we should return home, Draco."

"But--"

"We haven't been invited backstage," continued Snape. "We will not be calling undue attention to ourselves, Draco."

"Nobody in a pipsqueak theatre like this will care one whit--"

Snape took one step toward his son. "I care. We'll discuss the matter at home."

Draco cast a last, desperate look at the curtain. "Oh, very well. At least I know her name and where she spends her time." He slipped the playbill into a pocket, then patted the fabric covering it. "Exeter Theatre Company. I'll find her. As sure as my name's Mal-- er, Snape." Draco narrowed his eyes when Harry gave him a sharp look. "Habit, all right? I've been saying that my whole life."

He didn't say anything else as Snape led them to out of the theatre and to a dark, deserted alley where they Disapparated.

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Harry flopped down onto the couch inside the cottage. If Draco had been worried before, about Harry's needles, then now the shoe was on the other foot. Harry was worried about Draco's new . . . fixation. There was no other word for it, and Harry was positive that Marsha would agree with him.

In fact, the whole thing was so sudden and unexpected that all Harry could think was that Draco was doing this on the rebound. He'd decided to replace Pansy, finally. And he'd chosen this Rhiannon on a whim, though of course it didn't seem that way to the other boy.

But yeah, it was definitely a fixation. What else could it be? Draco wouldn't listen to reason. Not about the fact that you might, say, need to actually speak to someone before you decided you were in love, and not about anything else, either. Rhiannon Miller was definitely a Muggle, after all. In other circumstances, liking a Muggle girl might actually be good for Draco. But not like this. Convincing himself that Rhiannon was his true love was just going to lead to more heartbreak for Draco. Harry knew it. And Draco had already had enough disappointments this year.

"How can you be in love with someone you don't even know?" asked Harry as soon as Draco came in and shut the door.

"Because love isn't logical, that's why." Draco brushed his hair away from his face. "You'll understand when you fall for someone."

"You haven't fallen for her."

Draco sat down on the other end of the couch, crossing his ankles. "You don't know anything."

Harry hated to be the one to bring up bloodlines, since he really didn't care about things like that, but in this case, he thought he'd better. Best to nip this in the bud, right? "So you've fallen in love with a Muggle. You expect me just to run with that?"

Draco's nostrils flared. "Are you trying to offend? Rhiannon Miller's a witch if ever I saw one."

Oh, God. This was even worse than Harry had thought. He opened his mouth to retort, but thankfully, Snape beat him to it. "What would make you think that, Draco?"

The Slytherin boy laughed. "Isn't it obvious? No Muggle could possibly sing like that. She's passing, just like Lupin did. I told you, it's very common. Wizards don't have a theatre world of their own, so anybody with talent like that pretty much has to join the Muggle world."

Snape shook his head as he lowered himself into a chair. "Supposition isn't proof, Draco."

Draco put on a stubborn expression as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I don't need proof. I know. Haven't you ever just known something, Severus?" Draco sighed. "Oh, fine. What about her name, eh?"

"What about it?"

"Rhiannon happens to be the name of a rather noted Welsh witch," Snape said to Harry.

"There's no reason why a Muggle can't have that name."

Draco bared his teeth, his patience clearly wearing thin. "What's it to you, anyway? I thought you didn't care about blood."

"I thought you did!"

"You can say what you want, Harry. She's a witch and I love her and tomorrow, I'm going to go back to Exeter and find her, just see if I don't! And then you'll know. I'll have her tell you herself!"

"If she's a witch then why didn't she get a Hogwarts letter?"

"It's none of your business if Rhiannon ignored her Hogwarts letter. Not everybody goes, you know."

"Yeah, I know! Like Muggles!"

"Last time I checked, having private tutors didn't make you a Muggle!"

"Last time I checked, singing loudly in Italian didn't make you not one, either!"

Severus suddenly pinched the bridge of his nose. "I do believe that you two have done nothing but squabble since term ended. Perhaps you don't have enough to do. Harry, fetch your spell lexicon--"

"That's his way of telling you to shut the fuck up," said Draco in a thoroughly nasty voice.

"And Draco, you may your begin the reading we discussed," continued Severus without pausing.

"What? This late at night?"

"You appear to have time to fight with your brother."

Harry shot Draco a triumphant look. "Ha. That's his way of telling you--" He caught the expression on his father's face, and instantly felt subdued.

"I'll enjoy reading some Aristotle, in any case," said Draco in a snooty voice.

Snape looked incredulous for an instant. "Aristotle? What are you on about?"

"You said--"

"I said ethics, Draco," Snape corrected in a weary voice.

"I thought you had to mean Aristotle's works on ethics!"

"No. You'll find the books I ordered in one of the magic crates. Read them all, and then come discuss them with me."

"I haven't done anything wrong! Why should I be punished by having to read musty old tomes about ethics?"

Snape's reply was mild. "You aren't being punished. Moreover, you didn't appear to mind when you thought I was assigning Aristotle."

"Well, at least he was a famous wizard and well worth reading--"

"There's no reason to suppose that Aristotle was any sort of wizard, Draco."

Harry couldn't resist. "And no reason to suppose Rhiannon's a witch, either."

"Out, both of you," snapped Snape, all mildness gone. "Work in your room so I can have a modicum of peace in my own home. And for Merlin's sake, stop this incessant bickering!"

Draco snatched some books from a crate, then walked toward the bedroom. "Here's a translation to work on," he muttered as soon as they entered the room. "How do you say complete fucking idiot in Parseltongue?"

Harry glanced at the snake etched into the corner of his glasses and said something completely untranslatable.

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Coming Soon in A Summer Like None Other:

Chapter Five: Food for Thought

Comments very welcome,

Aspen in the Sunlight and Mercredi

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Author's Notes:

If you'd like to be notified when more of this story is posted, then send an email to [email protected], or go to http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ayearlikenoneother/join to subscribe to the Yahoo group set up to for author alerts. After you have joined the group and are choosing your options, select any email option other than "No Email" in order to receive notices about future chapters or stories in this universe.

If you'd like to see the wealth of art that was created for A Year Like None Other, please visit the Art Gallery I have set up to display the lovely things fans have created and sent me. The link is on the information page for the story.