This submission is part of HD Smoochfest on Livejournal. The theme this year is Media Remix, which invited participants to "remix" the story from a Book, Movie, or Television Show. The author/artist will be revealed at the end of the fest.

This was created for Prompt Number: M88
Original Work Name: Before Sunset

Author's Notes: I was completely unfamiliar with this film, so hopefully a crash course from various sources allowed this fic to be at least vaguely similar. I set it in Florence rather than the location of the film(s) to make it just that much different. And it seemed a rather romantic place to set the beginnings of a lifelong love into motion. The original material was somewhat angst-ridden, and so is this, but since it was for Smoochfest I hope the ending is satisfactory. :D Much thanks to Iwao for the speedy beta, since I wrote it somewhat quickly and threw it at her without warning.

17th August, 2000
3:47 pm

Harry looked up from his menu as a shadow fell over the table. He gaped for a long moment at the person staring at him with an identical expression, and then the man moved and the sunlight blazed into Harry's eyes, causing him to doubt he'd actually seen what he'd seen.

"Malfoy!" he yelped and leapt to his feet, blinking rapidly against the bright spots dancing before his vision. The man he'd thought to be Draco Malfoy was already moving away at a steady pace, apparently intent on putting as much distance between himself and Harry as possible.

Harry bounded through the opening in the iron railing and raced after him, glad that he hadn't yet ordered. "Malfoy!" he called again.

The man's shoulders seemed to slump as his walk slowed. Without turning, he halted and waited for Harry to catch up. "Potter," he said when Harry reached him. Harry stared at him with conflicting emotions. Harry hadn't seen Malfoy in over three years and now to randomly encounter him in Florence, Italy was…bizarre.

And Malfoy had changed.

"Hi. I…um, thought it was you. And you looked at me like I was a ghost."

"I thought you were for a moment. Or a figment. A nightmare." The last word was added quickly, as though having a civil talk without insult would have shaken the foundations of the world more than a chance meeting.

Harry grinned. "Right." He waited to feel some of the old animosity that Draco Malfoy had always been able to produce, but at the moment there was nothing but a strange joy at seeing a familiar face.

"Well, it's been interesting seeing you again, Potter. Have a nice life, etcetera. Carry on." With that, Malfoy turned and started away again.

Harry fell into step beside him and watched him covertly. Malfoy's lips thinned and he stared straight ahead, possibly determined to ignore Harry. "Wait. Would you like to get a drink or something? A meal? You were at the café. I didn't mean to scare you off."

Malfoy halted again and gifted Harry with a scathing glare. "You did not scare me off."

"Brilliant! Then come have a drink with me. My treat."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "You dislike me."

Three years ago, those words would have been true, but lately Harry had been wondering if he knew anything about anything, especially in regards to how he felt about just about everyone ever. "I don't even know you, Malfoy, and I'm tired of trying to speak Italian. Come and sit down. I'll even let you insult me."

"That desperate for company, are you?"

Harry nodded with a smile and Malfoy seemed to soften. He sighed heavily. "Fine. One drink. And then I disappear and you will forget you ever saw me."

"Deal."

oOo

Malfoy looked good. Actually, he looked better than good. His hair was longer and fell over his brow in a soft wave. The strands were so pale as to appear nearly white, likely bleached by the sun, considering the healthy, not-quite-tanned colour of his skin. It was obvious he spent at least a little time outside, and his body was a marvel, from what Harry could see of it. He wore crisp, white linen trousers and a casual white button-down with a minimal collar. Two buttons were open at his throat to expose a dark bit of braided leather, worn around his neck. A small silver medallion dangled there.

Malfoy didn't seem interested in Harry. He kept his attention fixed on the city beyond the iron railing. The whole valley was visible from their vantage. Harry ordered a bottle of Prosecco and the waiter brought them two glasses.

"What are you doing here, Potter?"

Harry nearly lied and said it was a holiday, but he decided Malfoy wouldn't care one way or another. "Auror business. It's done, a little bit early. My Portkey leaves in the morning."

"So you went the expected route and joined the Aurors. Colour me not surprised."

"Yeah." Harry took a drink and grimaced. He hadn't done much of anything surprising in the past three years. "How about you?"

"Visiting some distant relative. Or my parents are. I escaped, at least for the afternoon."

"This looks like a good place to escape to." Harry's gaze swept over the rooftops, beautiful and somewhat quaint in the bright afternoon sunlight. It was brutally warm in the city, but the café sat on a hillside and enjoyed the benefit of a light breeze.

"Indeed." Malfoy sipped at his drink. His fingers were long and perfectly manicured. Harry wondered if he was satisfied with his life.

"Are you bored?"

Malfoy looked at him, obviously surprised at the question, which Harry hadn't meant to blurt aloud. "I don't know, Potter. Do I seem bored?"

"Yeah, but I don't think you're bored with me. I just got here."

A ghost of a smile curved the corner of Malfoy's lips. "You are the most interesting thing that's happened to me all day, although I have to admit that isn't saying much."

Harry grinned. "Do you want to come sightseeing with me? I promise I'll try not to be boring."

"Are you that desperate for company?"

"Merlin, yes! I feel like an idiot wandering around alone. I don't know a single soul and my Italian is horrendous. I'm pretty sure I ordered lamb skin and tree bark for breakfast this morning. Luckily, the restaurant matron took pity on me and brought me actual food."

"Well, I would hate to see you grovel."

Harry snorted. "I'll bet you would. Where do you want to go? I'll let you lead."

"You really are desperate. Let's finish this and we'll take a walk." He lifted his glass and Harry hid a pleased smile behind his own drink.

oOo

The walk down from the café was pleasant enough. They could have taken a Muggle cab, but Harry didn't think that Draco's willingness to rub elbows with Muggles would extend as far as riding in something with a combustion engine.

"So, did you marry the Weaselette?"

Harry had expected the question, and the accompanying derision, so he shrugged off the insult to Ginny. "Not yet. Part of this trip is for me to, I dunno, figure things out. Decide what I want."

"Do not tell me you are having cold feet, Potter!"

"No." Harry paused, and then admitted, "Maybe."

"It is a large step, marriage. I should know."

"What? You're married?"

Malfoy snorted. "Not yet. But I will be, soon enough. Sooner than that if my father has his way."

"Who to?"

"It is to whom, Potter. And her name is Astoria Greengrass."

Harry frowned, trying to remember her from school. He drew a blank, although he vaguely remembered a Greengrass Slytherin girl they had called Queenie.

"Um…congratulations?"

"That is what they will say, yes."

It was a strange comment, but Harry realized they would say precisely the same thing when he and Ginny married. For some reason, the thought was depressing.

4:57 pm

They leaned over the stone railing and looked down into the river. The current was sluggish and the river looked tired and muddy, like most rivers. Harry wondered how many pairs of eyes had stared down at that same river over the decades past, and thought about how many of them worried over their own futures.

"Why the doubts, Potter? Everyone has always known you would marry and join the ranks of the Weasleys. Or have you met someone else?"

"No. There is no one else. I just don't know if I'm ready to be married. I want a family, of course, but the whole 'settling down' thing... It all seems so planned out, so predictable."

"Craving excitement already? Do you miss-?" Malfoy seemed on the verge of saying something vicious and Harry braced himself, but then Malfoy shook his head and sighed heavily. Harry looked surreptitiously at his profile. Malfoy was bloody handsome, had grown even more so since Hogwarts.

"Not really. Just craving…not bromidic."

"Bromidic?" Malfoy's brows rose and Harry chuckled.

"I know what it means!"

"I would be more impressed if I didn't suspect that you had learned it from studying the Word of the Day in the Daily Prophet."

Harry snorted and did not dignify that with a response, although Malfoy had been correct. Shall we walk to the Basilica?"

Malfoy shrugged. "Why not?"

5:28 pm

The Basilica of Santa Croce was an impressive structure, although after viewing Hogwarts, Harry had difficulty finding more than a passing appreciation for other stone edifices.

Malfoy stood with his hands on his hips in the central piazza before the church and said dryly, "My, what stunning architecture." He lifted a hand and covered an overly obvious yawn.

Harry smacked him on the bicep with the back of his hand. "It's nice!"

"How dare you touch my person, Potter." The words had no force, and seemed more of a continuation of his bored observation. "It isn't nice. It's dull. It's all white and…symmetrical."

"Most people find symmetry to be aesthetically pleasing."

"Oh, listen to Harry Potter, using words like bromidic and aesthetically." The statement sounded more like the old Malfoy than anything he'd said previously and Harry gave him a sidelong stare.

"Are you one of those people that get cranky when they're hungry?"

Malfoy turned a chilly stare on him. "Malfoys do not become cranky."

Harry nodded. "That settles it. Let's go find some food."

6:04 pm

Draco followed Potter as he wended his apparently random way towards a dining establishment. There were dozens, if not hundreds, of tiny restaurants in Florence, so there wasn't much chance of Potter missing them all.

"That one!" he said after a moment and pointed to a quaint-looking doorway with a cluster of hanging plants and a rickety sign that seemed to have been painted during the middle ages. As they neared, delicious smells emanated from the place and Draco acknowledged that at least Potter's nose worked.

Soon they were seated at a tiny table with a large man gushing over them, exaggerating the quality of his ingredients and raving about his menu.

Draco ordered a bottle of expensive wine, a Florentine beef steak, gnocchi, ribollita soup, and walnut and honey cakes. Potter said nothing, although Draco suspected he might have something to say when the cheque arrived.

Candles were lit whilst they munched on antipasto, and Draco noticed the way Potter's hair gleamed where the light touched it. For all that it looked a wreck, Draco suspected it would be soft to the touch.

He was yet surprised to see Potter. In Florence, nearly the ends of the earth from cold London. Stranger still, the distance seemed to have softened the animosity they had carried with them for seven long years, or perhaps Draco had merely grown up. The trivialities and harsh sting of their rivalry seemed far away, and Potter's easy smile and warm voice carried the promise of a new beginning, or perhaps merely a different ending.

"This is excellent," Potter said as he crunched into a bit of bread topped with prosciutto and a sprig of fresh rosemary. Draco had drizzled olive oil over it all. "I'm starving."

Draco drank his wine, ate, and watched Potter. The place filled up quickly, making conversation difficult. Italian words danced around them, impossible to understand without concentration. Draco didn't bother. He was focussed on Potter, and the way he held his fork (loosely, balanced mostly on his middle finger), and the careful way he cleaned his plate (sopping up every bit of soup with the remaining bread), and the way his bright green eyes touched on everyone and everything in the room (scanning, filing, and missing nothing, despite his relaxed attitude).

It occurred to Draco that Potter was an Auror, always alert for danger. For some reason, the knowledge made Draco feel warm, as though Potter could spring into action at any moment. Draco imagined him leaping to his feet, muscles lengthening and contracting, wand snapping out at the ready, and thighs rippling.

Draco took a gulp of his wine and asked about Potter's life in London, hoping to be lulled into boredom by Potter's words. It didn't work.

ooOooOoo

Harry wrinkled his nose. "Merlin, I don't want to talk about that. I'm in Italy, eating amazing food, enjoying the sights, and having dinner with-" Harry broke off and looked critically at his wine glass. Perhaps he'd had a bit too much to drink; he had nearly proclaimed Draco Malfoy to be "a handsome bloke", which he absolutely was, but he might have found it rather odd for Harry to be extolling his virtues. "Having dinner with an old friend," he amended. "We don't have to be enemies now, do we?"

Malfoy was looking at him in such amazement that Harry wondered if he'd accidentally slipped and spilled out the "handsome bloke" thing, but then Malfoy shook his head. "Honestly, Potter, you want to be friends after-" he cast a wandless Tempus Charm under the table and cocked his head to look at it, "a couple of hours of sightseeing and talking about nothing? No more wine for you."

"Oh, come on, Malfoy. We're bigger than that. We can be friends if we like. No one is here to stop us."
Malfoy glared at him, for a moment looking as though he wanted to storm out, or rail at him for all of the things that had come between them in the past, but then he looked down at the table and seemed to release a tense breath. He lifted his nearly-empty glass. "I suppose you're right. We can be friends in Florence."

"To Florence," Harry said and lifted his own glass.

"You're still an idiot," Malfoy replied, but he tapped his glass against Harry's and they both drank. Harry considered it a victory.

The restaurant had grown crowded and stuffy, despite the ceiling fans working hard to move the air. Harry paid for their dinner with Muggle money whilst Malfoy escaped outside. Harry found him leaning against the wall a few metres away, wrinkling his nose at a young man who zoomed by on a motor scooter. A rental shop sat across the way, advertising for customers with bright, graphic signs.

"Come on," Harry said and headed over. Night was falling, but if they hurried, they might catch the last vestiges of sunset.

8:15 pm

"No, Potter. No, no, no. You will not get me on one of those noisy, strange things."

"Oh come on! It's a scooter! It's like a…a broom with wheels."

"Brooms do not need wheels, nor do they make such noise."

"Yes, but we can't very well hire brooms to fly over Florence, now can we?"

"Well, we should be able to. Stupid Muggles!"

Harry laughed aloud at Malfoy's petulant tone. "I'll make it worth your while."

"How?"

"I'll think of something. Trust me." Harry ignored Malfoy long enough to haggle with the man running the shop, and soon Harry was stood before a bright red Vespa holding two garishly bright helmets.

"What is that?" Malfoy asked, pointing at the helmets.

"Head protection. In case we crash."

Malfoy turned and walked away. Harry jogged after him, laughing. "We are not going to crash! I ride a motorcycle frequently at home and these are much easier to control. In fact, you don't have to wear the helmet, okay? We can't have it crushing your gorgeous hair, although the wind might do it worse damage."

Malfoy stopped and looked at him, seeming mollified by the compliment. "Where are we going?"

"The Piazzale Michelangelo. It's too far to walk and I want to see the sunset."

Malfoy heaved a massive sigh, but followed Harry back to the scooter. There was some awkwardness as Malfoy sat down behind Harry and then tried to determine a way to hold on without actually touching him. All the while, the shop clerk was babbling instructions in Italian whilst Harry tried to nod and assure him that yes, he did know the controls and they would be perfectly fine. Malfoy even allowed the Muggle to help him with the helmet, although he squeaked in protest and Harry had to grab his wrist to make sure he wouldn't hex the man.

At long last, helmeted, seated, and with the lightest possible grip of Malfoy's hands on Harry's hips, they set off. Traffic was terrible, even on a Thursday evening, so it wasn't long before Malfoy settled in against Harry's back and tightened his hold to deathlike proportions.

"We are going to die!" Malfoy yelled when Harry slammed on the brakes to avoid a taxicab that shot from a tiny street in front of them. The driver cursed them and shook his fist out the window, as though it were Harry's fault they had nearly been run down.

The drive became easier once they reached the Viale Giuseppe Poggi. There was a slow line of traffic before them, but all were heading for the same destination, so it didn't take long to reach the asphalt parking lot. Harry parked next to a long line of similar scooters, hoping he could remember which was theirs.

Malfoy leapt away from him and wrenched off the helmet. "That was horrifying."

Harry scoffed and strapped the helmets to the bike, and then added a surreptitious charm to discourage theft. "It wasn't that bad. And look, the lights are all up in the city and the sun is setting."

"The sun has set."

It was true, but the sky still had a brilliant purplish tint, and a sliver of gold edged the tops of the hills. "Let's go look at David."