Mini dictionary: zia - aunt / mio amore - my love / papá - dad / padre - father / polizia - police / magico - magical / mio diletto - my darling / mi dispiace - I'm sorry / spirito - spirit /

Chapter Nine: The Tree House

o.O.o

The beauty of the estate still surprised Harry. It was brightly lit, even the front yard, so that people would not have any troubles finding their way inside. Not that it would be hard, given the entrance was a two-winged door, right on top of huge marble stairs. House elves, wearing crispy, baby blue pillow cases with an emblem of intricate 'CB' initials over their heart, welcomed the guests. Harry was slightly surprised to see so many familiar faces. Kingsley, the Minister for Magic was present, his booming voice was the first thing Harry had noticed upon stepping through the threshold with Snape right after him. Many older faces he had recognized from the Wizengamot; their presence seemed to have made Snape slightly anxious, however after a while, he mingled with them rather easily. There was however someone, who did not show up. Ettore was kept in Italy, it seemed.

The last time Harry had been here, he didn't have an occasion to talk to Coco Baron, as their host had been rather busy enjoying the charity auction in the backrooms. Now, however the lady wanted to compensate him for their time lost and had spent almost all evening dallying around Harry as if he would be the most amusing sight in her home.

Mrs Baron, who insisted on being called Coco regardless her age, or rather especially for that reason, must have been not a day older than seventy, or so she claimed. Some of her friends kept reminding her and everyone who listened to her, that she kept saying that in the last decade or so.

Harry had found Coco rather charming, all in all. She was a bright character, chatty, the soul of the party. Once, she must have been a beauty, however not much remained of her former glory, only perhaps her eyes, that were, just like Ettore's, blue as the ocean on a sunny day. She was chubby, her cheeks pink, and her hair pure white, long and curly. This evening, she was wearing blue roses in it, which matched her light blue robes. Snape wondered half aloud, so that only Harry could hear him, whether she dressed for the elves or the elves were dressed to match her style.

She had been a widower for five years, when her husband had died in an Apparating accident. He was a man, who liked two things in life: betting and drinking. One could say, and Coco certainly did, that Mr Baron died, doing what he liked. One evening, during a party, similar to the one Harry was visiting, Mr Baron was drunk and made a bet that he could, indeed, apparate outside the country. He managed, winning the bet, and with it a glorious renaissance painting from Johannes Van Hoytl The Younger*. Unfortunately, he somehow miscalculated his destination and appeared somewhere in the North Sea. Boy with Apple*, the previously mentioned painting, had been handed to Coco, who had cherished it ever since, and made it the centre piece of the main dining room.

Coco entertained Harry with stories of her niece during dinner. As it turned out, Ettore's mother had died when he was only two and his father had been a successful entrepreneur, both in the muggle and the wizarding world. Ettore therefore was mostly left here, with Coco, who had raised him into the fine man he was now. Coco took great pleasure in Ettore and his vivid imagination when it came to fashion. She was proud to say, she was the only one who could inspire the Italian without bedding him. Almost every year, he came out with a set, he created for ladies like Coco.

"He was a shy child, would you believe?" Coco said as they sat in the dining room, the table crumbling under the weight of all the food. She had none of Ettore's accent, however she lived most of her life in England, while Ettore had moved back to Italy when he became seventeen. "Quiet and distant."

"Impossible," Harry laughed. He couldn't imagine Ettore as anything even remotely shy.

"Oh indeed," Coco nodded seriously, grasping a goblet and washing down the juicy beef with a gulp of red wine. "Up until his father had passed away at least. He had been fourteen, and became fierce after the dreadful event. He had a small affair with a married man and then the wife. Quiet the scandal. Luckily, they were at least Muggles."

"Now, that Ettore I do know," Harry giggled.

"After he went back to Italy, only seventeen, my dear boy, and all alone, I have heard almost as much about his success in fashion as I did on his success with men and women. He's only ever becomes serious when he's married, otherwise, he's as fierce as twenty years ago."

"And just why on earth would I change, Zia Coco?" Said a voice at the door Harry immediately recognized. "You love me the way I am, do you not?"

"Ettore, my dearest!" Coco cried, standing up. The huge, long table quieted, all fifty guests watched the handsome man who stepped in the room to welcome his Aunt.

Ettore hurried to the old lady and hugged her happily, smiling as he buried his head in her white hair. "Your beauty has not faded since the day I have last seen you, my dear Aunt. In fact you become more gorgeous by every day." Ettore nodded towards Harry and Severus before he went on with a teasing smile. "If I am not careful enough you charm away my friends, Zia Coco!"

Ettore went around the table and greeted all the guests by name, apologising for being late. Soon the chatter around the dining room resumed, and the Italian finally reached Coco's end, where Severus and Harry sat as well.

First he said hello to Snape, laying a hand on his back, inquiring about the matters of school. Harry's fingers involuntarily tightened around the cutlery, but no one seemed to have noticed. Then he arrived to Harry.

"Nothing can make me happier than seeing you in my childhood home, Harry," he smiled, placing both his hands on Harry's shoulders. He leaned closer before he whispered, "Well, there is of course seeing you in the Library, but we shall get back to that later on."

Harry smiled, timidly, and turned towards where the arousing accent was coming from. "I'm glad you could make it, Ettore." He pointed at the food as he said with a grin, "Sit and eat. I want to hear more about shy and quiet Ettore."

Serafini laughed, throatily, his head falling back. "I can be quiet and shy, if that is what you want, mio amore."

Coco shifted at the head of the table and, summoning a chair, gave place for Ettore. "Sit now, my child. I must hear about your new show. It is in May, right? Eat, darling, you must be famished."

Blue eyes turned to Harry as Ettore took his place next to his Aunt. "Oh, Zia Coco, I am hungry for one thing only but, I am afraid that is not up to you to serve me."

o.O.o

The stories of Ettore's childhood made Harry see the Italian in quite a new light. There was more to Ettore than he first believed. He watched him as he complained to Coco about a show he would make in May and then, Ettore seemed more like a man than Harry had ever seen him. A serious business man with many problems regarding his work, not just a charmer suddenly, and Harry wondered just how many faces Ettore had. And which was the truest? Was it the easy-going, flirty Italian, the almost brutal lover, who would whip Malfoy and all the others, or the compliant man so eager to please Snape? Was it the ruthless fashion designer, who talked about models as accessories to his designs or perhaps the artist, who still found pleasure in the process of creation after years and years of attacks, jealousy and rivalry? Or perhaps, deep inside, he was still that quiet and shy child, Coco had talked about?

Harry hid his smile, looking down on his dessert. Then he realized he was wondering about Ettore Serafini and his heart leapt. This was the first time he thought about Ettore as more than just a gorgeous body. He was becoming more and more interested in the man. He chanced a glance on him, but became soon mesmerized.

Ettore was sitting with his legs crossed, looking comfortable leaning back against the back of his chair. The top buttons of his dark, greyish knitted cardigan was undone, beneath which his black shirt was showing. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed between two sentences, but his hands in the air didn't stop for even a moment. He was explaining something, Harry did not hear what, but he knew it was something the Italian loved, his enthusiasm was clear on his face. Coco replied and Ettore laughed, before lifting his glass of red wine to his lips. Laughter lines appeared on the handsome face, making it even more attractive. Blue eyes still smiling, Ettore gulped down the Amarone, his gaze meanwhile shifting towards Harry. When their eyes connected, Ettore's smile became softer and warmer and the ocean blue pools all but caressed Harry's soul. Ettore turned back to his Aunt, who was talking again, and Harry looked away quickly, feeling somehow guilty.

He felt the burning gaze on him and looked to his other side. Snape was watching him with intense obsidian eyes and a grim expression. He dapped his napkin to his lips and stood, marching away without a single word. Harry watched him go, wondering. Was Snape jealous? Did he want back to the Italian? Could it be that one night was not enough for Snape? Snape made it clear on the day of the photo-shoot who he fancied more, and it wasn't Harry he made to kneel before him, in the end.

Yet, Harry stood from the table and excused himself quietly. He rushed to the next room and marched past the many priceless items that were on auction, not even noticing them. He stopped only when he reached the main hall and looked around, but his king was nowhere to be seen. Disappointed, he searched for a door that would lead towards the backyard. He needed some fresh air, some time to sort through these confusing feelings.

"To your left," said a voice behind him and Harry turned around to find Ettore leaning against the door frame pointing at another door. "You can go out through the drawing room."

Harry took a deep breath, before he asked, "Would you like to join?"

"Of course," Ettore answered with a soft, half smile.

He opened the two winged door for Harry and they walked through one of the smaller drawing rooms of the house. The glass doors to the garden were kept open during the evening for some of the guests who liked smoking. An older woman and two middle aged wizards were idling outside with cigars in their hands, chattering. Ettore exchanged a couple of words with them, followed by a polite smile and the next moment, he was leading Harry on the winding path with a hand on Harry's waist.

White stones in the dark grass made the trail, but Coco made sure to make it visible, so every couple of steps torches were pinned into the ground to show them the way.

All of a sudden, Ettore turned to Harry with a conspiratorial smile and asked, "May I show you something, Harry?"

Hoping that it wouldn't be the all too famous Library, Harry nodded. Ettore took his hand and Harry felt a sudden warmness and awful twist in his stomach. The next second, the twist was gone, Ettore was closer and warmness turned into blazing. He looked up at Ettore who was smiling down at him with perfect white teeth, all sharp, protruding cheekbones and bright eyes. Then he stepped away, making a half circle with his hand, showing Harry the new scenery.

The moment Harry realized where they were, he panicked slightly and grasped into Ettore more tightly. He looked down, suspecting that it was a bad idea. Indeed it was. The tree they were standing on was so tall, he couldn't see the ground in the dark. The tree was at least thirty feet high, perhaps even higher given the darkness.

They seemed to be standing on what was supposed to be a tree house one day, but remained sadly unfinished. The planks under their feet were covered in dirt, leaves and moss. Some branches had found their way through the small gaps which were now covered in small, fresh sprouts.

"What is this place?" Harry asked astonished as his gaze followed Ettore's.

The floodlit mansion in the distance looked old and menacing with its many shadows, yet the bright windows seemed inviting and warm. The winding, path they were walking on only minutes earlier formed a diamond when seen from above. The flat top of the gem was right at the feet of the huge house, while the other sharp tip lead to a big pond. Their tree was on the right edge of the black water, somewhere at the corner of the estate, providing an excellent view of Ettore's childhood home.

"My sanctuary," answered the Italian sitting down on the moss covered wood, his legs dangling in the air. "I used to come up here as a child. My father started building this place for me between his travels."

The tree house's state of incompleteness was now even more saddening. Harry grasped Ettore's shoulder, then sat down as well.

"I thought of finishing it up many times, but somehow I could not bring myself to it. We worked on it together and finishing it alone felt somehow weird. But I still love this place regardless its state."

"The view is amazing from here."

"I loved coming up here. It was my fortress. No one knew about it just papá and me. I would spend the afternoons up on these wonky planks and design outfits until I ran out of free space on the parchment or ink."

"I never would have pictured you as a shy kid," Harry laughed. "What happened to that child?"

Ettore smirked and lowering his voice, he said, "He lost his innocence."

Harry looked away quickly, the warmness in his stomach growing again.

"After my father died, I became close to Claus, our neighbour," Ettore explained, pointing behind their backs. "He was married and I was young. A lot of people blamed him for what happened, but in truth it was I who seduced him."

"You were underage, he shouldn't have touched you."

"He saw me as more than a child and I needed that those times. Why, can you always control your heart?"

Harry looked at the Ettore, but thought of Snape as he answered, "Not in the least."

Ettore chuckled and his accent suddenly became heavier. "I could talk to him about things I have never told papá. That I fancied men as much as women was one of those things. He was the one who told me that was perfectly normal, who encouraged me to follow my desires in fashion instead of taking over padre's company. Many people were ready to judge him, but I will always be grateful for him. He taught me many things."

"Such as?"

"Honesty above all, for example, was one of his sayings. Isabella, Claus' wife, had known about us from the beginning. She did not mind, as she was certain Claus loved her more than me."

"Was she wrong?"

"Very," Ettore sighed. "But she realized it sooner than I did. She lied to Claus that I kissed her and wanted to lie with her. I was almost of age by that time. Claus did not believe her which angered her even more. She had exposed our relationship. Luckily Zia Coco could handle the polizia. The lies however had already tainted our relationship. I went to Italy, while he stayed here in England. Claus made me promise that I will not be sad and experience life. He believed that life was something wonderful, something magico. I grew up to resemble him more than mio padre in nature. Padre had been strict and distant usually, while Claus always had a smile for me."

Even after the man stopped talking, Harry just kept staring at him. Ettore was scratching the plank between his legs, elbows resting on his knees. Somehow, he completely fitted in the scenery, though a tree house wasn't a place Harry had ever imagined Ettore to be happy. Serafini smiled ruefully as he looked aside to Harry.

"Do you judge me now?" He asked softly. "Do you think less of me now that you know I have made an older man fall for me? Broken up a marriage?"

"It's not my place to judge you, Ettore," sighed Harry. "I'm starting to realize I have no idea who you are."

Ettore laughed again, leaning back on his hands, eyes twinkling. "Ask then, mio bello. What do you wish to know?"

Harry regarded him in the dark. "Who are you really, Ettore? And just what do you want from me?"

"I do not offer false promises, Harry. I make sure my partner knows what I want before I have sex with them. I was hurt many times and I wish not to cause harm for anyone. You know exactly what I want, Harry. I made it clear from the very beginning, did I not?"

"But why?"

"Why?" Ettore laughed again. "Because you are a remarkable, handsome young man and I love sex," he said then simply. "Is that wrong? Is it wrong, do you think? To like sex?"

Harry cleared his throat, feeling suddenly anxious. Talking about sex with Ettore could not lead anywhere good. "Liking sex isn't the problem here…"

"No, your problem is that I am more straightforward about it than most men, is it not? Would you rather I buy you dinner and take you out weekly? Would you rather I assure you that I am a gentleman and I do not think of you in my bed when I am alone? Would you rather have the lies?"

"Isn't that how people usually do it?" Asked Harry hesitantly.

"Do you always do things how others do it?" Ettore asked back smugly.

Harry shook his head. "Well, I wouldn't say so…"

"Look, mio bello, in my world, you need to be honest about what you want. You cannot say, oh yes, that salmon belt goes rather good with the orange dress. No, you say it is awful, take that away from my eyes. I am used to this honesty, so are the people around me. And I expect the same. That is why Draco had hurt me. I was clear with my intensions, he was not."

"I thought you two… What did he do?"

"Harry… let me ask, do you know what I want to do to you?"

Harry gulped feeling rather hot all of a sudden although the April air wasn't all that warm yet. "I have a suspicion."

A half smile crossed Ettore's lush lips. "Say it, Harry, no need to be shy," said the Italian with his spine tingling accent.

Harry hesitated for a moment, then thought, what the hell. "You want to sleep with me."

"Sleep?" Ettore laughed. "How modest. I want to fuck you, Harry. But that is not the whole truth. I want to do much more to you than that, Harry. I want a night with you. A whole night when I can give you pleasure. When I can give you everything I have to offer. Just one night," Ettore sighed softly and looked at the dark house. "That is not what I offered to Draco."

"You asked… for more than one night?"

"I offered more. I offered Italy to him. I offered my heart to him. I told him, be free with me, mio Drago."

"And he said no?"

"He said yes. At least that night. The next morning however, his heart changed. I cannot be angry. He is loyal to Severus and I understand that. But I am sad and hurt."

"Sorry to hear that."

"Do not be, Harry. He gave me memories I will not forget for years to come. Memories, amore, are sustenance to the soul. It does not matter if the memory is about one night or a year or a life time. As long as it is a happy one, it will be uplifting to your soul."

Mouth dry and fidgeting slightly, Harry asked, "Is that what you offer? An uplifting experience?"

"I offer sex, Harry. Will it be uplifting? Who knows…? I will certainly make sure to do my best."

Ettore turned towards Harry and leaned closer. The young man couldn't take his eyes off the handsome face as it moved closer and closer. Soon, Harry was lying on the old planks, the wood beneath him softened by the moss and leaves. Above him blue eyes glinted darkly, black fire burned in them. Then Ettore moved his soft lips to his ear and the fire moved from the Italian's eyes straight to Harry's crotch.

"I could give you so much pleasure," Ettore whispered close to Harry's ear, his voice low and heavy with his accent. "I could touch you with my hands, stoke you until you are hard. I could lick you wet, lick you needy. I could push my tongue inside you and make you ready for me."

Harry groaned, grasping into the knitted pullover. He tucked up a leg and shifted, trying to push closer to Ettore, but the wizard moved away.

He looked Harry dead in the eyes and ever so slowly pushed down his erection to Harry's hardening cock. "I could bury this inside you, make you feel every inch," he said with a deep voice. The blue eyes closed and next Harry felt soft, velvety lips on his. Ettore kissed slow and gentle, his mouth moved against Harry's like butterfly wings, and he could even feel the small scar, where the soft skin was slightly rougher. Something wet suddenly caressed his lower lip and Harry moaned, lips parting. Against his better judgement, he wanted to kiss back, but Ettore moved away by then. Standing up, he pulled Harry to his feet as well and grasped his hand. "I will let you think about my offer. I will be back after my show in May, we talk then," promised the Italian, before he Apparated them back in the house.

*Boy with Apple from Johannes Van Hoytl The Younger is another one of Wes Anderson's creation from Grand Budapest Hotel. The actual painting which is featured in the movie was created by artist Michael Taylor.