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 my author information page. Mercredi continues to be an important member of the Year-universe creativity team, but she's very busy these days and for the time being, not able to participate as much as formerly. So I'd like to thank Rhonda and clauclauclaudia for helping look this chapter over before it was posted.

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A Summer Like None Other

by Aspen in the Sunlight

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Chapter Five: Food for Thought

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Draco couldn't eat breakfast the next morning. Too many butterflies in his stomach. How could he want food when in less than an hour, he'd be well on his way to meeting Rhiannon Miller? Miller . . . hmm, he didn't think he'd ever heard of any Millers, but that didn't mean anything. She was still a witch; he just knew it.

He curled his fingers, remembering how Harry had been so insistent that Rhiannon was a Muggle. As if he would be such an expert on the subject. What could he know of bloodlines? Harry hadn't been raised to recognise quality when he saw it. But Draco had, and one thing was certain: Rhiannon was more than merely a witch, she was as pure-blooded as they came.

Draco could hardly wait to get to know her better. Which meant that it was time to announce his plan. "I thought I'd pop over to Exeter this morning."

Harry sighed--loudly, the prat--and set his fork down. "I thought maybe a good night's sleep would cure you."

"Cure me?" Draco leaned back and crossed his arms. "I'm not the least bit ill, I'll have you know."

Severus cleared his throat. "You propose to go alone, do you?"

Draco raised his chin. "Yes, of course. I hardly want the two of you hanging about while I get to know Rhiannon." He glared briefly at Harry. "Though it would do you a world of good to hear from her own lips that she's a witch."

"She's not a witch!"

Draco noticed Severus giving Harry a warning look, and had to resist the urge to smirk.

Harry sighed again, and spoke more softly. "What are you going to do when she tells you there's no such thing as witches, Draco? If she's a Muggle, chances are she won't know a thing about the wizarding world, and when you start talking about it, she'll think you're a real nutter."

"Why is it so hard for you to believe that she's a witch?" Draco wrinkled his forehead, wondering what was really going on. "If you ask me, you're the one who's fixated, Harry. You have some deep, dark psychological need for me to be involved with a Muggle." He huffed a bit. "You think it'd be good for me, I bet. But telling me that Rhiannon's a Muggle isn't going to change the facts of the matter."

"No, it isn't," said Harry in a heavy voice. "Well, you'll know soon enough. She'll tell you herself that she's not a witch, once she understands that you really do think she's one."

Draco frowned. "Hmm. You know, this might get a bit tricky. If she's passing as a Muggle, she might not be willing to admit that she's actually a witch. So she might claim she isn't one, even though she is."

Harry threw his hands upward. "Oh, for God's sake. Now you're convincing yourself that she's a witch no matter what she says! Don't you see that that's what you're doing?"

"And what are you doing?" Draco coolly asked. "Apart from trying to come between me and Rhiannon, that is? As if I'd ever be attracted to a Muggle!"

"Ha. You didn't have any problem finding Muggle girls attractive at the pool, did you now?"

Draco felt his lips curling. "Yes, well . . . they were flaunting themselves. And what's more, that was just physical. And a bit on the disgusting side, when you think about it. Muggle girls must be awfully hard up, to have to parade about with barely anything on, trying to entice every male in the vicinity. But what I feel for Rhiannon . . . don't you get it, yet? It's love, Harry. True love."

Harry rolled his eyes. Well, fine for him. He'd figure out, sooner or later, that Draco was serious. And that Rhiannon Miller wasn't a Muggle, for Merlin's sake!

Draco rubbed his hands together. "So, Exeter then. I do hope she's rehearsing this morning, but if I have to hang about the theatre and wait until she shows up, that's just what I'll do--"

Severus spoke then, his voice almost too quiet to be heard. "You appear to be forgetting that you aren't yet licensed to Apparate by yourself. Not to mention that Exeter may not be as safe as you assume."

Draco scoffed at both parts of that. "I've been competent to Apparate for years, and you know it--"

"Yeah, but Dad would rather we don't break the law," Harry put in, the little goody-goody. "Remember?"

Draco rounded on him. "Why don't you just throw those fairy cakes in my face, then? Again!"

"I wasn't, but--"

"Sure you weren't. You're just upset that I saw Rhiannon first!" Draco nodded, everything suddenly making perfect sense. "Aha! So that's why you want her to be a Muggle, isn't it? Because you think I wouldn't love her, then--"

"You don't love her--"

"Yeah, well, you sure won't. She's mine."

"You can't call dibs on a person, Draco," said Harry in a heavy tone. "And as for me being upset you saw her first? Please. I don't want a girlfriend, and if I did, it sure wouldn't be one that looked just like your mother!"

Draco stepped back, feeling almost like he'd been hit. His voice came out as a low growl. "You're an absolute troll, Potter, trying to put me off her like that. Well, it won't work, any more than your other ridiculous ploys will. Rhiannon Miller is nothing like my mother!"

"She's tall and blonde and looked pretty snooty to me!"

"She happens to be honey-haired," said Draco, flipping his own white-blond hair back as he spoke. "And Rhiannon's not that tall, I bet. That fancy headdress she was wearing just made it seem that way." He suddenly grinned, feeling wicked. "Besides, my mother's thin as a rail, isn't she? And Rhiannon . . . " A low, whistling sound escaped his lips. "She's nicely curved, in all the right places. Very nicely curved. Mmm, I can't wait--"

"You'll have to," interrupted Severus. "You aren't going to Exeter alone."

"You let Harry and me--"

"I allowed the two of you to visit a Ministry adjunct department by yourselves on condition that you meet me at a specified time and place afterwards. That's a bit different from having you wander the city all by yourself."

"You left us alone when we needed suits--"

"I left you briefly, and only after I had ascertained to my satisfaction that nothing in that shop could pose any danger to either of you."

Draco wasn't about to give up, not on this. "Yes, but you must have thought that Exeter was free of Death Eaters, right? Otherwise you'd never have left us at all."

"You aren't going to Exeter alone, and that's an end to the matter," said Severus flatly, his tone brooking no more disagreement.

Draco's heart felt like it was swelling and aching. He had to get to Exeter today, so he could start convincing Rhiannon that he was the one for her. "But Dad--"

Severus' lips twisted for a moment, which Draco found pretty upsetting, actually. The man never got that look on his face when Harry called him "Dad," but Draco was getting pretty used to seeing it whenever he used the word. No wonder he didn't use it very often. It wasn't fair. Severus was his father, too, but it seemed to Draco that he didn't want to be, much of the time.

Oh, but the man was always very happy to be Harry Bloody Potter's father. And that despite the fact that the other boy wasn't even a real Slytherin. Sometimes, it was all Draco could do not to scream.

Screaming wouldn't help him now, of course.

By then, Severus' expression had returned to normal. His voice was casual as he proposed a solution. "Perhaps we can combine objectives, Draco. It's time we stopped relying on the magic boxes for foodstuffs, so I suggest we visit a grocer's in Exeter. After our shopping is done, I'll be happy to accompany you as you see what we can find out about this Rhiannon Miller."

The last part of that was welcome, of course, but as for the rest? Draco rolled his eyes. "Are you confusing us with elves, Severus? First we have to learn to cook, and now you'd have us actually buy the food to cook with? It's so . . ." He shuddered. "Mugglish."

"It won't kill you," said Harry, a bit smarmily. "After all, if you're so determined to get involved with a Muggle girl, you'd better learn more about how they live. I can answer any questions you have--"

Draco was sure that Harry could. As if being raised as a Muggle had been such a treat. Draco knew it hadn't been. Not for Harry, at least. Hermione Granger didn't seem to mind her upbringing. But then, perhaps she was just too ignorant to realise what a huge liability her Muggle ways were.

Not that Draco needed to know anything more about Muggle customs. He set his teeth in a straight line and spoke through them. "Rhiannon Miller is a witch. A pure-blooded witch, and I don't want to hear you say otherwise, ever again!"

"She's as Muggle as they come--"

"That's it!" said Draco, raising his voice. "Do I insult the people you care about, eh?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact!"

That took Draco aback, but he rallied soon enough. "Oh. Well, they deserve it, don't they, coming down to Severus' private quarters and making all sorts of nasty, evil suggestions, not to mention making bloody brainless assumptions and dashing off letters to Family Services--"

"Look, if I never forgave people for the stupid things they did, I'd still hate you, too!"

Harry would have to have a point. "Oh, fine," muttered Draco. "But Rhiannon's still not a Muggle."

"Is so."

"Is not"

"Is--"

"Gentlemen," interrupted Severus. "Neither of you has anything more than guesses to work with. I strongly suggest we delay this discussion until one of you has actual information."

He sounded like he thought they were both idiots, Draco thought. All because they didn't have any facts. Except, they did. "Her magical voice! You must see that that proves--"

"All it proves is that a good microphone works wonders," drawled Harry.

"Micro--"

"Amplifies voices. Kind of like a wand does for magic. All those performers were using them, I bet, and--"

Draco lifted his chin again. Honestly! Attributing Rhiannon's enchanting tones to nasty Muggle machinery. Harry probably didn't know how offensive he was being, but still . . . "Yes, your judgment on these matters is so very fine that you can't even hear the difference between Italian and German. I'm sure I'll trust you on all things operatic."

"Any more of this and I'll be setting an essay," said Severus. "Is that clear?"

Harry gave a short nod. Draco thought to do him one better, so he answered in his most gracious voice. "Of course, sir. I for one didn't mean to fill your home with . . . what did you call it? Incessant adolescent squabbling?"

It seemed to him that Severus sighed. "This is our home, Draco, not just mine."

"Oh, I know," said Draco, nodding. Hmm, Severus looked like he wondered if Draco really did know that. Which meant it might be a good time to bring up something he'd been meaning to discuss . . . "Well, perhaps if I had my own room I'd feel more like I was at home."

"No. You'll continue to share with your brother."

"Why? I think we know enough about construction now, to add another room--"

Severus practically glowered.

"All right, fine," said Draco. He'd known he couldn't sway Severus on that point. And truth to tell, he didn't care all that much, not now that he was so used to sharing. What mattered now was getting to Exeter and finding Rhiannon. "Everybody all done with breakfast? Good, then let's be off. Are you sure we can't hunt up Rhiannon straight away? No? Well then, shopping first, and after that the theatre. I can live with that. So, where to, Severus?"

All at once, the Potions Master started to look a little bit out of his depth. It was a pretty strange expression on his typically confident--or even arrogant--features. "I didn't think to look for a grocer's yesterday while we were in town--"

"Aha," said Draco, resisting an urge to point in triumph. No point rubbing it in, right? "When you said shopping, you were thinking of something more like Diagon Alley!"

"Yes, but as we're going to Exeter anyway, I think we should simply do our shopping there."

"Why should we?" Draco strove for a reasonable tone. "There's no need. And doesn't it make more sense to shop where we're all comfortable?"

Harry just had to put his two Knuts in, of course. "I'm perfectly at ease at Sainsbury's or Tesco."

"Where we're all comfortable," reiterated Draco. "I bet Severus has never set foot in a Muggle grocer's in his life. And I know I certainly haven't. So how about this: we Apparate to Diagon Alley to stock our pantry, as it were, and then after we've come back here to drop off our purchases, we'll head over to Exeter. Simple."

"Oh, no you don't." Harry was scowling. "We'll find a store in Exeter and you'll do Muggle-style shopping, Draco, so you can see how Rhiannon actually lives. Who knows, maybe we'll even run into her at the store!"

"If we do, it'll mean she's faking. How many times do I have to explain it?"

"You're the one who's faking! Intelligence!"

Draco had a good comeback for that, but Severus held up a hand before he could say a word. He had a feeling that Severus would cancel the Exeter trip altogether if any more arguments erupted, so he held his tongue.

Severus stared at him for a moment, then included Harry in his serious gaze as well. "It's best that we all become conversant with shopping in the Muggle world, in any case. In times of war, we may not be able to rely upon wizarding shops."

That made sense, so Draco nodded.

Harry was smiling broadly as he pushed back his chair. "About time I get to be the expert on something. Sounds good. So then, I think Muggle clothes are called for--"

"Yes, it's not like we went to Exeter in Muggle dress just yesterday, or like we go every week to Surrey and pretend to be Muggles there, too. Yes, we know absolutely nothing about going unnoticed--"

"I get the point," said Harry dryly. "Can you blame me if it's fun to be in charge, even if it's only of the shopping?"

In charge. Harry really did have a nerve. "Who put you in charge? I think I can figure out how to buy food, thank you very much. I did all right in the suit shop, didn't I?"

"Apart from yelling at everybody in sight and making the clerk burst into tears twice?"

"Draco," said Severus, shaking his head.

"I didn't. His eyes got a bit wet, was all. And what was I supposed to do?" Honestly, the things Harry complained about. "I'd asked for emerald green, clear as day, and he brought me a shade of tie much closer to spring grass! I should just put up with such abysmal service?"

Severus and Harry started doing it again, then. Looking at each other. All but rolling their eyes. Draco huffed. "I'll take charge of the shopping, thank you very much--"

"You'll have the butcher throwing knives over the counter. At us."

"Draco." Severus waiting until the boy looked up at him. "Have you ever purchased food before, even in a wizarding shop? Apart from the occasional sweet, that it?"

Now Draco was the one rolling his eyes. "No, of course not. But how hard could it be?"

"We'll let Harry show us how the Muggles handle such matters."

Harry looked pleased as plum pudding that he'd got his way, and was now in charge, so to speak. "All right, then. Draco, lose that robe. And Dad, you too. Actually, maybe you should change into something a little more casual. Not too many Muggles wear . . . er, quite so many layers. Especially during the summer."

Dad . . . Sure enough, the name didn't make Severus grimace, not when Harry was the one saying it. Draco scowled and marched over to the divan, where he threw himself down with his arms crossed.

Severus was back in a moment, wearing black trousers and a simple button-down shirt in a green so dark it might as well be black. He'd tied his hair back as he often did when they went to Marsha's.

Harry nodded. "So, Exeter. Let's just Apparate to right near that pool, Dad, and then look about for a likely looking store."

Dad . . . That time, Draco was sure that Harry must be saying it on purpose. Rubbing it in.

"And you propose to go at once, do you?"

Harry blinked, clearly lost. "Er . . . yeah. Well, as soon as Draco gets up off the couch."

Severus waved toward the square table where they'd eaten breakfast. After hearing enough there's no house-elf here lectures to last him a lifetime, Draco knew well enough what that gesture meant. None of them were going anywhere until the dishes were done. So, fine. Draco flicked his wand a few times to clean the plates and stack them neatly, then banished the crumbs that were scattered about. Really, household chores weren't too horrible, considering. It wasn't like they were cooking and cleaning the way Muggles did.

But now they were about to shop the way Muggles did. And Harry was going to show them how. Draco sighed, but then he decided it didn't matter. As long as he got to see Rhiannon Miller in Exeter, nothing else mattered. Concentrating on the prospect of that, he let the world melt through him until he was lighter than air and on his way towards his one true love.

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Draco ended up on the opposite side of the road from his father and brother, but that was easily solved. He dashed across, ignoring the noise of tyres screeching and something that sounded like ducks gone insane.

Harry was shaking his head. "You don't know anything, do you? They're honking at you for a reason. You're supposed to look both ways before you cross!"

Draco glanced back at the speeding cars, then made a gesture as though zooming on a broom. What was the big deal? "I've faced worse in competition."

"Draco, you'll let your brother guide you so you can fit in," said Severus in a stern voice.

Hmm, best not to argue any further. Severus might demand they go home directly after shopping, and that wouldn't do. Draco's mind was already racing, figuring out what he'd say when he met Rhiannon. She'd be at the theatre, most likely, rehearsing or something, filling the hall with audible magic. Draco would listen for a while. He'd probably swoon. Too much beauty at once had that effect on him. He'd be happy watching her all day long . . .

But of course she wouldn't want to rehearse hour past hour. Sooner or later, she'd need to take a break, and when she did, Draco would stride forward from the wings, and . . .

Brilliant performance last night, Miss Miller. I'm a great admirer of your talent. My name is Draco Snape . . .

Draco frowned as Harry led them down the pavement. Draco Snape. He was very happy to have a father he could trust, of course, but that didn't mean that his new name had the same prestige as his old one. Not that Draco would want to be a Malfoy again, ever. Not when it meant . . . no. Absolutely not.

But still, he did wonder how he could smoothly suggest that he had plenty of money. He was used to people just knowing that about him. The moment they heard his name, they'd known. But Rhiannon wouldn't, not straight away . . . Hmm. Maybe he should give his full name when he met her. At least Malfoy was still part of it.

But no, that might sound a bit pretentious. Even in at official Ministry functions, one didn't usually give one's entire name--

"Let's walk along High Street," said Harry, interrupting Draco's musings. Draco looked up, startled to realise that the pool was no longer anywhere in sight. He'd been lost in thoughts of Rhiannon.

A few minutes after that, Harry pointed. "See there? A Tesco. They'll have whatever we want. Er . . . what do we want, anyway?"

Draco stared at his brother. "You're the one in charge. But that sorts well, I suppose. It's not as though I would know how the other half eats."

"It's not so very different and you know it," Snape said, the rebuke mild. "I must ask that we keep track of the cost, however. I've only got about fifty pounds at the moment."

"Oh, I've scads left over from buying those suits," Draco said.

Severus turned to glare at him. "I'm responsible for your support, not the other way around."

Draco blinked, a little bit surprised. It wasn't often he offered to share money, and to have it thrown back in his face? "I just meant . . . I told Harry I'd give him money too, if he needed it. I thought that was what families did." His voice sounded very small, even to him, as he finished.

Severus' own voice softened. "Yes. Well done, Draco, and I will remember it. However, I don't need funds from either of you, and hopefully never will."

Oh. Draco understood pride. "All right."

Draco tried not to shudder as double glass doors slid open at their approach and then closed behind them. The way Muggles tried to imitate magic was truly pathetic. And frightening as well. The wizarding world liked to pretend that it kept itself entirely hidden, but Draco knew better. Doors that opened themselves were proof in themselves that some Muggles were well-aware of what one could do with magic. It smacked of jealousy, and that was dangerous.

Jealousy had been a large part of the witch-burnings and other atrocities of centuries past.

Harry grabbed hold of a cart, and pushing it before him, started smiling brightly. "So. Dairy first?"

Merlin's beard, this was worse than Draco had feared. Dairy, of all things. "If you want to purchase some kind of animal, you can be the one to get the milk from her--"

An old lady stopped in her tracks and stared at the three of them.

Draco bit his lip, feeling like a fool, especially when they turned a corner and he saw row after row of cartons labelled milk. Well, how was he supposed to know that Muggles didn't have to get it by hand? They had to wash their dishes by hand, didn't they?

When Harry put a carton into their cart, Draco picked it up and looked it over. He felt a bit off when he couldn't tell exactly what he was holding. This time, however, he thought it best to lower his voice before he commented.

"What is this?" he asked his brother, very quietly.

Harry gave him an odd look and pointed at the large white letters on the carton. "Milk."

Draco gave him what he hoped came off as a superior look. "Well, yes, it's milk. But what kind? Yak? Goat? Sheep? Whale? Canadian caribou? Just for the record, I'm not drinking any wolf's milk. I don't like the associations."

He meant the myth about the founding of wizarding Rome, the one featuring a boy named Remus, but Harry, of course, completely missed the reference. Or maybe he didn't. His expression was rather contemptuous. But when he started talking it seemed like he had something else on his mind.

"You're having me on. Look, I know you didn't want to come here, but you don't have to invent a whole load of . . ."

"Invent?" Draco barked a laugh.

"All those varieties are, in fact, readily available in . . . other kinds of stores," said Severus in a low voice.

"Oh," said Harry, obviously deflated.

"Just you think on that next time, before you start calling names," said Draco haughtily. "So, what is this, then?"

"It's cow's milk."

"How boring."

"There you go, being a git again--"

"That's enough nonsense," interrupted Severus.

Draco didn't say anything more, but he did make a face at Harry once their father's back was turned. Harry ignored him.

After that, Draco didn't ask the origin of the butter and yoghurt Harry popped into the cart. When they started going up and down aisles, though, things got a bit more interesting.

"Oooh," said Harry, suddenly looking like he thought he was at Honeydukes. "I always wanted to try these. Dudley used to gobble them up before I could get a chance."

Draco glanced at the reddish package in his brother's hands. Walkers Shortbread. He thought it was very sad that Harry had been so deprived growing up, but he wasn't quite sure what he could say. Well, there was one thing, perhaps. "Let's get lots." Draco plucked a few more cartons off the shelves, and piled them into the cart. When Harry raised an eyebrow, Draco could only think one thing. "More?" He reached toward the shelf again.

"No, six boxes should be plenty--"

"Six boxes is too much," corrected Severus, putting four of them back.

"But we need lots, don't we, with Ron and Hermione coming tomorrow?"

Draco had been trying to forget the letter that had come through the charmed box a couple of days earlier. Oh, well. It wasn't as though he hadn't known that he'd have to put up with Harry's friends during the summer. He was probably lucky that they hadn't descended even earlier. Apparently Weasley . . . Ron, he reminded himself, had been kept busy de-gnoming his parent's garden. He'd written Harry no end of complaints about it.

Draco didn't know what had kept Hermione from visiting, but it probably had something to do with teeth.

Harry had gone down the aisle by then. "Oh, these look very good, and these, and these ones here--"

Severus' deep voice sounded amused. "I can see that the biscuit aisle was a mistake."

At that, Harry coloured slightly. "Well, it's just that I used to watch Dudley eat all these things and I wouldn't get any . . ."

"Be that as it may, I'm quite certain you don't want to end up looking like your cousin did."

"There is that--"

They'd rounded a corner by then and turned down another aisle. Severus nodded briskly as he placed a black and white tin into the cart. McCann's Irish Oatmeal. Draco made another face, and this time, Harry stifled a laugh.

Halfway down the next aisle, Severus suddenly did a double-take as he studied a new tin he'd just selected.

"What?" asked Draco.

The Potions Master frowned. "I can't think why there should be disodium phosphate in this. I wouldn't put that in anything meant to be taken by mouth." He placed the tin back on the shelf, and began rummaging through the cart, checking ingredient lists. Shaking his head, he rejected several items, piling them haphazardly back on the nearby shelf.

Harry frowned. "I think we should really put those where they came from."

Draco almost guffawed. That was taking the good son act a bit far, surely. Not that he really thought it was an act. Harry just still had insecurity issues, he thought. Sometimes he tried to discuss them with Marsha, but she was pretty good at steering the conversation back to Draco's own issues. Like intolerance, as she put it. It wasn't, of course. It was just intelligent thinking. It was dangerous for Muggles to know about the wizarding world, that was all. History was full of all sorts of proof, but they didn't teach that version of history at Hogwarts.

That whole line of thought reminded him of Harry's ridiculous insistence that Rhiannon Miller had to be a Muggle. What rubbish. Draco would show him.

"Well, would you look at that," he said as they were standing in line to check out. "No sign of Rhiannon Miller. No sign at all. And to think you said she'd be here."

"I didn't, but that she isn't hardly proves anything."

"You'll see."

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Harry didn't see, though. Severus cast a sly feather-light charm on their purchases, and they set off through the streets of Exeter, heading back towards the theatre where Rhiannon had performed. According to the woman sitting in the box office, though, she wasn't there at the moment. Of course, it took a little while to get that information from her. She hadn't even recognized Rhiannon's name, which Draco thought was a travesty if he'd ever heard one.

"Oh, the amateur opera ensemble," she said when Draco explained that he'd seen Rhiannon Miller in last night's performance. "They use the theatre every other Thursday night. I think they rehearse in a warehouse somewhere around here . . ."

Warehouse? Where merchandise was stored? He thought of those decrepit buildings near the squib home. His beautiful Rhiannon, who deserved to be gracing the stage of London's finest opera house, had to hone her performances in a place like that? Draco almost bared his teeth. "Well, where exactly can I find her, then?"

"I really wouldn't know."

Draco sighed as he fished out his wallet. He knew how to handle people like this. Even the wizarding world had its leeches. He slipped out a few pound notes--fivers, Harry called these ones--and sort of dangled them in front of the woman. "Are you sure about that?"

She stared at him like he was from another world. Hmm. Perceptive of her. "I beg your pardon?"

Muggles truly were dense, weren't they? "Perhaps thirty or forty ounces would freshen your recollection?"

"Pounds," hissed Harry. "God, Draco!"

Oh, right. Well, how was he supposed to remember? They were both measures.

"I'm not hiding information," said the clerk, bristling. "Now, if you don't mind, I've work to do."

Draco was a bit glad, then, that Severus was standing a few paces distant. Nothing was more embarrassing than having one's bribe refused. "Fine, then. We'd like three tickets to Rhiannon Miller's next performance."

Harry groaned. "I don't want to see it again!"

"Yes, well unless I get to come to Exeter alone, I'm afraid you're destined," said Draco, nose held high. Then, to the clerk: "Well?"

"Apologise for insulting me, first."

Draco just about gaped. What? What?

Harry's voice was jolly when he chimed in. "Yeah, Draco, apologise. It's the least you can do after you implied . . . er, scurrilous things about this good woman, here."

"Implied, nothing," said the clerk, her cheeks looking sort of sunken. Like she'd eaten a sour. "Don't want tickets, then? Off with you!"

Draco drew in a deep breath. There was no way some small-minded little Muggle was going to stand between himself and Rhiannon. "I'm sorry if I insulted you--"

"If?"

Draco gritted his teeth. If not for Severus standing so close . . . oh well. Hexing Muggles wouldn't do his standing with the Auror office any good. So he tried again, flashing his most dazzling smile. "I'm sorry that I insulted you, madam. May we please purchase three tickets?"

The clerk was smirking as she took the money and handed them over. Only after Draco had them in hand did he realise his mistake. "Ah, madam. I should have mentioned that we'd like front-row centre."

"Yes, you should have," she said, and with a smart motion, flipped over a sign hanging to her side.

Closed for lunch.

She turned her back on them and disappeared into the theatre.

Draco tucked the tickets into a trouser pocket. "Unbelievable. These . . . people really are very rude creatures."

"Are they," said Severus dryly when they reached him.

Draco grimaced. He should have recalled what fine hearing his father had, but then again, it was hard to remember anything past his burning urge to see Rhiannon again. And now he would have to wait a fortnight. A whole fortnight! If he were a dog, he'd howl.

"Look, maybe my technique needs work, but I'm sure that woman knows more than she's telling. Er, maybe when she comes back out you can use a little . . ." He twirled a finger near his forehead.

"No, I can't," said Severus shortly. "Don't ask again."

"But I have to find Rhiannon! I have to! I have to!"

"Thursday week will be soon enough."

"Maybe by then you'll have got over this weird obsession," said Harry. The prat.

Draco gave him a warning look. "It's no obsession. Oh, by the way, we're definitely going backstage next time. And if either of you tries to stop me again . . . well, I won't be responsible for what happens next."

Severus didn't do much more than shrug, which could mean anything, of course. Harry, with his usual lack of perception, seemed to think it must mean nothing at all. "You're going to let him just threaten us?"

"He didn't do that, precisely." Severus turned to Draco. "No more talk like that, however. Is that understood?"

Draco knew better than to push his luck. He nodded, keeping his eyes cast down so Severus couldn't read the determination in them.

It was a good pose. Calm, collected, self-controlled. But Harry ruined it for him. "Honestly, Draco, this thing of yours is getting out of control. I'm starting to think that you must be the one who's . . . er, had his thinking messed with."

Confunded, he meant. Confunded, him! "Oh, like when your weasel friend said you had to be confused just because you'd come to care about somebody? Like that, Harry?"

"At least I actually knew Severus!"

"Well, you've obviously never been in love," said Draco in a voice even he recognised as nasty. "Must have something to do with this attachment-avoidance syndrome you're working through. And no wonder, considering how little trust you learnt growing up. But don't worry, Marsha will set you right if you just keep at the therapy for another ten, fifteen years--"

"Essays it is," said Severus heavily.

"Wait, no--"

"I didn't say anything!" exclaimed Harry.

"You ridiculed your brother's affections. Again. It's really not very politic, Harry. Unless, by chance, you're trying to drive him into the young lady's arms?"

Harry flushed. "I'm just trying to keep him from getting horribly hurt when he finds out the truth."

"Well, don't," snarled Draco. "It's your truth, anyway. It's not the truth."

"And you," said Severus, rounding on him, "aren't to score points off Harry by throwing his childhood in his face. That's reprehensible and you know it."

Draco did bare his teeth, then. So it was fine for Harry to insult Draco's mother--though come to think of it, he hadn't done much of that in front of Severus--but Draco wasn't allowed to say a word about Harry's relatives! "He's always complaining about my mother--"

"And you're always bad-mouthing Remus!"

"Essays and lines both?" Severus' gaze challenged each of them in turn.

"No, sir," said Draco, finally.

"Sorry, sir."

Severus shook his head. "Sir is best left to class, as you both well know."

Right, sure. Draco was going to call the man Dad when all it would get him was one of those half-twisted expressions of dismay. "Let's just go home," he said, sighing. For one second, a vision of Malfoy Manor flashed through Draco's mind. But then he shook it off. He had another home now. A better one, though it was so humble that he sometimes felt stifled there. Still, he wouldn't trade it for the Manor, not for anything.

Even if his father liked to punish them with essays.

It was better than a wizard's beating, after all.

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Coming Soon in A Summer Like None Other:

Chapter Six: A New Perspective

Comments very welcome,

Aspen in the Sunlight

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Author's Notes:

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