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Thursday, May 1, 2003
As the sun rose in the early morning, gold light peeking through the blinds of his flat, Draco sat stiffly on his couch, staring unblinkingly at the old boot that sat like a centerpiece on his coffee table. Every few minutes, like clockwork, he broke his gaze to check the watch that adorned his left wrist before returning his gaze to the boot. Though perhaps he wasn’t really looking at the boot. He merely focused his eyes in that general direction because it required the least energy. He had not slept well, if at all, the night before, and he was near falling asleep sitting up when he checked his watch, saw that it was seven a.m. on the dot, and barely pressed his fingertip to the boot in time. He felt the familiar sensation of being snatched by his collar, and he was thrown roughly around before he was dropped on the abandoned shoreline of Marzamemi, Italy.
Draco tidied his appearance before casually making his way toward town. As he walked, some of his pent-up tension began to fade as if blown away by the salty morning breeze. Though he had been seeing a therapist as of late, and she helped him loads, bless her, the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts always weighed on him heavily. Draco found that taking a vacation around this time of year always helped put him at ease, and he preferred to be anywhere but home around the time of the anniversary, anyways. Even though the Wizengamot pardoned him for his crimes and Harry Potter, of all people, had been there to defend him, most of the wizarding world still thought poorly of him, and he would rather not be there to add to the hurt they were already feeling at this time. So, as he had every year since, he flipped a coin, chose a destination, and booked a one-way portkey to Marzamemi. Draco was rather pleased with his luck this year; he’d wanted to visit Italy for some time now, and he figured that some sun would add a bit of life back to his face.
As he wandered, his thoughts slowly returned to the war, to the aftermath, to losing his mother, to his father going to Azkaban, to his trial, and soon enough, his thoughts landed on Harry Potter. Potter, shockingly enough, hadn’t been seen by anyone outside of his closest friends for nearing five years now. It seemed that after things within the Ministry had settled after the Battle of Hogwarts, Potter simply vanished. Draco found it quite odd that he hadn’t stuck around and become a poster boy for the Ministry the same way he had in his Hogwarts days. (Though, Draco wondered if Potter had been a poster boy simply because it was expected of him, not because he enjoyed the attention. He thought about such things nowadays.) He wondered about Potter sometimes. He wondered where he went and wondered how he was doing. Draco often thought about how he never got to thank Potter for defending him at his trial. He was the reason Draco was let off with a mere house arrest, against the wishes of basically the entire wizarding world. Bloody Potter and his savior complex.
Draco allowed those thoughts to linger for a little longer before pushing them away. Here he was, on vacation in a beautiful Italian city, yet his thoughts remained elsewhere. Howfoolish, he thought to himself. He glanced around and took in the beauty of the approaching town. Marzamemi was in a relatively flat area, with the majority of the town surrounded by the ocean. The shorelines themselves were beautiful, but Draco found himself enraptured more by the charm of the town. The buildings were all mostly the same height and made of stone or brick, and they were packed snug together with just enough room for a street to run between them. Mother Nature had, it seemed, taken it upon herself to be present wherever she could. She crept up the sides of buildings, shot out of cracks in the stone path, draped down off of roofs, and bloomed bright and colorful in gardens and pots. The day was early, but the streets weren’t quiet. Everywhere Draco turned, there was the bustle of shopkeepers opening their windows and mothers waking their children, and dogs barking at the birds overhead. When his own stomach started to add to the din, Draco changed his direction and stopped at a little cafe that had tables within view of the coast.
“¡ Buongiorno !” Draco turned towards the voice and was met with a beyond bubbly waitress. She was short with a strong build, and long, dark hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. “Before we get started, would you prefer English or Italian?” she asked. Draco was thankful she gave him an option because Italian was one of the languages he never bothered to learn.
“Uhm, English, please. Thank you.”
She smiled brighter, somehow. Draco wondered where she found any willpower this early in the morning. “Great! My name is Bianca, and I’ll be serving you this fine morning.” She placed a menu in front of Draco and clasped her hands together. “Would you like any coffee or tea to start?”
“Tea, please,” he said. “Do you have earl grey, by any chance?”
“We do!” Bianca nodded, and he smiled. “I’ll be right back with your tea, and you take your time looking over the menu!” And then she was gone, hurrying off to fetch his tea.
Draco gazed dreamily at the coast again, wondering about Bianca and the other townspeople, and what it must be like to live here all the time. To wake up every morning to the sunshine in your window and the waves against the shoreline. To meander through the streets and end up lounging on the beach. He thought about crisp tan lines and freckles and salt water and sand in his hair. He thought about sipping earl grey tea while watering plants and bathing in the glow of the morning. It seemed like a dream.
And yet, while Draco didn’t live here permanently, this was his life for the next three months until the summer peaked in August. He made a mental note to remind himself to soak it in as much as he could. Then, he watched the waves lap along the sand and the birds scuttle around until Bianca returned with his tea.
“There you go! Have you looked at the menu, see anything you like?”
Draco turned back to the table, going pink. He was too entranced in his daydreaming to check the menu. “Surprise me,” he declared, surprising himself. “Whatever you choose is what I’ll have.”
“Got it, boss.” Bianca glowed, and Draco could practically see the ideas in her head already. She walked - no, danced - her way back into the cafe, beelining for the kitchen in the back.
Draco sighed and, after checking that there were no muggles around who could see, summoned one of the newspapers from a shelf by the wall of the cafe. It was in Italian, so, with another wave of his wand, he translated the entire thing to English. He occupied himself with the news of the city, partly to gain some knowledge of the place until Bianca returned carrying three plates of treats.
“I couldn’t decide between my three favorites,” she said, sliding the plates onto the table. “So I just gave you all three. My treat, don’t bother paying!”
Draco was hit with various scents all at once, which maybe should have been unpleasant, except it wasn’t. On one plate there were pancakes like he might have at home, except these were thicker and fluffier. On the next, a pastry that resembled cheesecake with espresso powder and - were those whole coffee beans? - on top of it. On the final plate, just regular looking doughnut holes covered in powdered sugar.
He waved a hand, gesturing to the three plates. “This all looks great, but what is it?”
“Okay, so,” Bianca started. “That plate, with the pancakes, that’s our classic ricotta pancakes. They’re a fan favorite here, and they’re not that different from any other pancakes you’ve probably had.
“That’s what we call a tiramisu ,” she said, gesturing to the second plate. “It’s a no-bake pastry that’s mostly cream and sugar - those chunks are ladyfingers - and espresso sprinkled throughout. Goes great with a cup of coffee. Or tea.” She smiled as Draco sipped said cup of tea.
“That last plate is just some regular Italian doughnuts. They’re nothing special, really. But our dessert chef also owns a sweets shop, and these are always selling out over there. I think it’s just because he’s the one baking them, personally. We’re quite lucky he can make enough for us as well.”
Draco glanced over the three plates again. Though he was quite hungry, he wasn’t sure he could eat everything in front of him.
Bianca was obviously quite clever as well because she answered his question before he got the chance to ask it. “If you need a takeaway box, you let me know. And, of course, call me over if you need anything else. For now, enjoy the food!”
While Draco ate, he continued to appreciate the view from his table and the beauty of the town around him. He knew already that leaving in August was going to be difficult. Well , he supposed, best make the most of it while I can.
***
Draco managed to finish everything except a few of the donuts, which went in the container Bianca gave him to take to his place. He paid for his food, against Bianca’s I said it was on the house! because It was too good not to! With a thank you and a promise to be back tomorrow, he left the cafe and began his search for where he’d be staying.
The streets gained a slight incline the further inland he walked, but it wasn’t an unpleasant walk. The buildings slowly transitioned from quaint shops and restaurants to adorable homes and villas. Gradually, the space between them increased to make room for more extensive gardens and perfectly groomed yards. It wasn’t long before he came upon the house he’d rented, whose owner was overseas in America until next year. It blended perfectly with the other buildings around it. It was a short, one-story home made of tan bricks and a ceramic tile roof. There were vines of ivy and flowers growing up the side and from the planters resting outside the windows. In front of the house, there was a small garden stretching to the edge of the street, which Draco decided he would tend to while he stayed there.
After unlocking the door, Draco sat his bags in the entryway and wandered the house to get acquainted with it. Through a door to the left was the kitchen, with an island in the middle and table and chairs by the front window, which overlooked the garden. The counters were full of muggle appliances, but Draco doubted he’d have any need for those. The kitchen was open and led into the living area, with a large tile fireplace on the right wall and chairs that looked as ancient as the ones in the manor. The walls were all covered in paintings, big and small, of beautiful sceneries from all over the world. Draco thought he recognized one painting from his travels to Greece. The only wall without paintings was the back wall, which was home to a large sliding glass door that led to the backyard.
From the living area, Draco went back down the hallway to the front of the house and turned to the door he went past earlier. He opened it and was met with a small but cozy-looking bedroom. There was a four-poster in the corner with deep blue sheets and curtains, and at the foot of the bed was an oak desk, strikingly similar to the one in his dorm at Hogwarts. The floors were hardwood: a deep, rich color that paired well with the sheets. A wardrobe stood lonesome in the corner opposite the bed, next to a door that Draco assumed went to the bathroom.
When Draco finished his self-guided tour of the house, he charmed his bags to float into the bedroom, then went the opposite direction towards the sliding door at the back of the house. He remembered reading something in the rental ad about a pool in the backyard, and he was delighted to find he was right. A path extended from the back door to a patio area that bordered the pool. The water was shockingly blue and clear enough that he could see the stones that lay in the bottom, sealing the pool from the earth. The pool was shaped almost like a bean: an oval with a slight inward curve. In the corner to the right, there was a pool shed that, from the look of the outside, was more of a poolside bar than a place to store tools. Draco knew immediately that he would be taking full advantage of this part of the house throughout the summer. That meant he would have to invest in some good sun protection, he supposed, instead of a mere charm.
There was another path that led away from the pool, and Draco followed it into another, more secluded garden tucked into the crook of the house. More vines grew up an outcropping of the bricks that Draco assumed was the fireplace. There was a swing, bordered by two tall rose bushes, tucked next to a window in the adjacent wall. Through the window, he could see into the bathroom that he skipped over earlier.
He wandered back to the bedroom to unpack his bag and search for his swimwear. No time like the present to start making use of the pool , he thought with a grin. Midway through unpacking, Draco’s stomach decided to make itself known for the second time that day. It wasn’t quite lunch time yet, but he decided that the portkey travel and time difference likely threw his system for a bit of a loop, and an early lunch wouldn’t hurt. He unpacked the remainder of his belongings and then made the short walk back into the heart of the town.
Draco concluded since he knew little about any other restaurants in Marzamemi that he would eat lunch at the same cafe as this morning. When he arrived, the cafe was much more lively than it was earlier. He supposed it must be a popular place to eat, and that he ate his breakfast today earlier than most people here did. Bianca saw him as he neared the front of the queue, and she waved excitedly, whispering to the host. Draco assumed, after the host sat him at a table and Bianca appeared, that she had asked for him to be seated at one of her tables.
“Twice in one day, huh? You promised to be back tomorrow, unless I misheard. We must have done something right with you!” She leaned against the table with a smile. Draco smiled back; he wasn’t used to such a pleasant reaction when people recognized him back home.
“More like I didn’t know where else to get lunch,” he sassed, but with no real bite. “Although I can’t deny, the food this morning exceeded my expectations.”
Bianca positively beamed. “I’ll be sure to let the chef know. He’ll never admit it, stubborn and humble as he is, but his deserts are likely the reason we do so well.” Bianca gestured to the tables around them. Plenty of people occupied every table, both inside and on the patio, and there was a line out the door of people still waiting to be seated.
“With how good the food is,” Draco said, opening the menu Bianca provided, “I’d be appalled if the cafe didn’t do as well as it is.”
Bianca flashed another bright smile, then waved at the menu. “So, do you know what you want this time, or are we surprising you again?”
He glanced over it quickly. “I think I’ll get the risotto,” Draco answered, handing Bianca his menu.
“How ‘touristy’ of you.” She grabbed his menu and didn’t bother writing down his order. “But, I’ll let it slide since you’re already my favorite tourist,” She added with an exaggerated wink. Draco only rolled his eyes playfully in response. “It’ll be out in a bit.”
Then she was gone with a flourish. Draco tracked her with his eyes back to the kitchen doors, which swung open widely as she ducked inside. He was about to glance back around the restaurant, but something - rather, someone - caught his eye. Just before the doors swung close, he caught a glimpse of a mop of untamed raven hair, atop a head with unmistakable bright green eyes. There was no way to know for certain. He only saw him for a fraction of a second, but Draco was sure. Bloody hell.
He was out of the cafe before he even registered moving.