Aspen Sunlight - A Summer Like None Other

"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.