A/N: I'm so ashamed, readers. I've had a bit of a struggle with writer's block and a few other ups and downs, but I finally made it to the end of chapter 21. Thank you so much for your patience.

The next day dawned and grew into another perfect summer's day. Hermione and Draco met Giorgia and Blaise in the house's spacious kitchen, snacking on fruit, drinking strong coffee and getting in the way of the house elves.

Draco greeted the happy but sleepy pair cordially, but Hermione's cheeks were pink when she said 'good morning' to Blaise and 'buonjiorno' to Giorgia.

Blaise peered at her face. 'Did you get a bit of sun yesterday?'

Hermione put her fingers on her cheeks and avoided Draco's smirk. 'Yeah, must have,' she said weakly.

With four humans in the kitchen, the house elves had exceeded their tolerance limit, and shooed them out to a grassed area near the lap pool. There sat a large wooden picnic table looked like it had been seating hungry people since medieval days.

Then, in almost no time at all, the table was chokka-full with bread rolls, condiments and a dizzying selection of sweet pastries. These included cornetto, a lighter, less buttery type of croissant with an orange-rind glaze, crostata, a pie-sized tart with buttery pastry and filled with any flavour of jam, biscotti and brioche. All were accompanied by hot, strong espresso and cappuccino.

Hermione's eyes widened at the range of sweet products on the table.

Giorgia grinned. 'It's a Luccan tradition to serve the biscotti with chianti,' she said. 'For dipping in.'

Draco pulled the plate of biscotti towards him and opened his mouth to summon a house elf, but Hermione's elbow met with his ribs.

Draco mock-glared at her. 'When in Rome, love.'

'This isn't Rome.'

'Well, when we return to Rome, may I drink wine with my breakfast, please?'

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'Sure. Go for it.'

'What do the tourists want to do today?' Blaise asked, pouring coffees for himself and Giorgia.

Hermione perked up. 'I'd love to see Pisa,' she said enthusiastically. 'And maybe Florence, if there's time?'

'Of course,' Giorgia smiled. 'If you and Draco side-apparate with us, we can get to both cities in no time at all.'

'Great!' Hermione said happily.

'Great,' Draco said reluctantly. He hated side-apparation.

Draco landed rather woozily in the shadowed lobby of a Bed and Breakfast run by Signor and Signora Lombardi, wizarding friends of Giorgia's family.

A burst of rapid Italian sounded from the kitchen, and a short, plump matron with purple hair and dressed all in black came bustling in. Her eyes lit up when she saw Giorgia, and the young lady was enthusiastically embraced and kissed on both cheeks. Blaise, on the other hand, merely received a baleful stare in response to his polite greeting.

'Not a fan of yours?' Draco whispered.

'She has a son who is far more appropriate for Gia than I am,' he whispered back in the tone of someone who's heard it all before.

Giorgia extracted herself from Signora Lombardi's arms with promises to visit when her handsome, successful, wonderful Giuseppe was home, and they escaped into the loud and colourful town of Wizarding Pisa.

Of course, you couldn't say you'd visited Pisa without taking a peek at its famous tower, so the quartet headed into Muggle Pisa to view the iconic architectural failure. Hermione, Blaise and Giorgia - with Draco following behind, scuffing his feet – completed a circuit of the drunken-looking bell tower, suspended in the act of taking a very long time to fall to the ground, which was obviously where it wanted to be.

'Why' – began Draco, but Hermione eagerly answered his question.

'The land it's built on used to be a river hundreds of years ago, then it silted up. Of course, silt is much too soft for a building foundation, and in any case, the foundation was too shallow, so...'

As she wittered on, staring up at the tower and pointing occasionally at important things, Draco said in an undertone to Blaise 'Actually, I was going to ask why are there so many tourists gathered around such an old and obviously unstable building?'

Blaise smirked.

...'even today, it's only estimated that the tower will remain stable for another two hundred years, then it could begin tilting again!' Luckily, Hermione was too spell-bound by the tower to notice Draco's aside.

'Sounds positively dangerous, love!' said Draco, eyes wide. 'Imagine the carnage if it should topple and flatten hundreds of tourists beneath it.' He lowered his voice. 'I think we should do Pisa a great public service and bombarda maxima the crap out of it. What do you reckon, Zabini?' He pretended to search for his shrunk wand. 'You create a diversion, I'll bring the bastard down.'

Hermione was scandalised. 'You are such a barbarian!' she hissed.

Draco shrugged. He could live with that.

'It nearly was destroyed during World War Two,' Blaise added, knowing that feeding Hermione with information usually soothed her soul. 'The US Army were told to destroy it because the Germans used it as a lookout point, but when they got here, they felt they couldn't destroy something so iconic and historic, so they left it alone.'

'Yes,' Giorgia agreed. 'That was after Mussolini tried to straighten the tower by ordering tonnes of grout to be poured into the base, but that just made it sink into the ground even further. Idiota.'

By now they'd joined the queue of tourists waiting to enter the Tower. Draco, checking the selfies he'd taken of himself looking like he was casually-yet-sexily pushing the building over, stumbled to a stop. 'Hang on,' he frowned. 'We're not going in, surely?'

Blaise nodded. 'Sure. It's been certified as safe for people to enter and climb to the top. For the moment, anyway.'

'Ah, no thank you.' Nimbly, Draco hopped out of the line and bowed elaborately to an elderly lady with a perma-tan, wearing a trucker cap that had a badge which said: 'In your guts, you know he's nuts.'

She nimbly took his spot, dragging a tall, liver-spotted gent in a Hawaiian shirt, walk socks and sandals. 'Why, thank you, young man,' she beamed in a broad American accent, then she yelled into her companion's ear 'Wasn't that nice of this young man to give up his spot for us, Horace? And so handsome he is, too!'

Horace looked up and around in fear. 'They're comin' for us, Mildred!' he quavered.

While Draco basked in a random old woman's shouted compliments, the other three left the line, too. While she was disappointed, Hermione knew there were some things Draco would not be moved on, and this was looking like one of those things.

Still, she was miffed enough to not hide her disappointment.

'Never mind, Hermione. This tower isn't the only leaning building in Pisa,' Giorgia smiled.

'Really?' Hermione was part fascinated and part disturbed to think that someone else knew something she didn't know.

'Oh, Yes! A number of buildings were unfortunately built on the old river ground. For example, there's a 12th century church called San Nicola, and another church called San Michele degli Scalzi. Both are just a couple of miles away.'

'Excellent,' Hermione said firmly. 'Draco! Stop bothering that couple and hurry up!'

After a bit of happy church-exploring on Hermione and Giorgia's parts and surreptitious mobile phone gaming on Draco and Blaise's parts, they lunched in a rustic restaurant whose outdoor area was festooned with vines on overhead trellises.

They snacked on crostini, served with dips made from broad beans, garlicky cannellini beans and chicken liver pate. After that was spaghetti alle vongole, with clams straight from the nearby River Arno, followed by salad. Draco was prepared to give the Torta co' bischeri' a go, which was a sweet tart made with rice, cocoa, chocolate, pine nuts, raisins and nutmeg, but Blaise reminded him that they were going to side-apparate to Florence soon. Suddenly, what sounded like a promising indulgence of his sweet tooth turned into a horrible vision of him puking up his lunch at their next destination.

Malfoys didn't puke in public. It was practically written on his birth certificate.

So, it was back to Wizarding Pisa, and after another uncomfortable lurching experience in which he kept his jaws firmly clamped together, they arrived at a disused bus terminal that Wizarding Florence turned into a thriving market. Out they popped from the underground entrance and quickly lost themselves in one of Italy's most famous cities, rich in renaissance art and architecture.

Hermione was a woman on a mission. Armed with a guide map, which for some reason she found to be more reliable than Blaise and Giorgia, who were struggling to keep up with her pace, she deposited herself in front of an unassuming door on Via Ricasoli. As they sailed through, Draco glimpsed a banner to the side proclaiming 'Galleria dell'Accademia.' His shoulders slumping somewhat, he gamely carried on, lest he lose his love amidst the hordes of Muggle tourists.

Draco, Blaise and Giorgia put on an extra burst of speed and followed Hermione through hallways of sumptuous paintings and wide corridors of epic sculptures when they finally caught up to her, standing in front of a gigantic marble statue of a young man, staring up at it with such adoration that Draco immediately started feeling irrationally jealous.

His efforts to rouse Hermione from her stupor proved fruitless, so he wandered over to Blaise and Giorgia. 'What gives with the tall, pale stiffy?'

Blaise snorted. 'He's David, by Michelangelo.'

Draco was not au fait with the who's who of marble statuary. 'David who?'

'In some Muggle religions, David was a poor shepherd from Israel who was brave enough to fight, and defeat, the Philistines' best warrior, a so-called giant called Goliath. According to their bibles, David hit Goliath in the head with a stone he hurled from a sling, which caused him to crash to the ground. Then he took Goliath's sword and chopped his head off. See? He's carrying the sling over his left shoulder, and he holds a rock in his right hand.'

Draco turned around and took another look at the statue. Sure enough, casually slung over the gigantic man's marble shoulder was a marble sling. Although his pose looked to be casual, Draco could now see the tension in the beautifully-carved face, as if he was waiting for something unpleasant to start.

'He was carved from just one piece of marble,' Giorgia added.

Hmph. Impressive. In fact, Draco had to concede that the entire sculpture was so well carved, it didn't even look like it was marble at all. If he wasn't so giant, or white-grey in colour, he could imagine David stepping off the pedestal and taking his place before Goliath, setting the stone into the sling, knowing he only had one chance.

But as for the young man's groin...

'Did Michelangelo run out of marble when it came to sculpting his meat and two veg?'

Blaise snickered, and Giorgia frowned at them both. 'I dare you to ask Hermione that question.'

Draco smirked. 'No thanks. I'm not a sadist.'

'Some men are not as lucky as others to be so well endowed,' she continued, with a sideways look at Blaise that made Draco feel rather superfluous to requirements.

He left the couple, who were about to canoodle, and strolled up to Hermione, who by now was staring intently at David's shapely bum. He stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

She leaned against him and sighed happily. 'It would be so easy to believe that if you touched him, he'd feel warm beneath your fingers.'

Draco nodded. 'Michelangelo had some serious talent.'

They stood in silence with their necks craned up, until Draco's inner imp got hold of his tongue. 'Was is standard practice for men back then to fight with their tackle out?'

But to Draco's surprise, Hermione didn't sniff in indignation or stomp on his instep. 'There are examples from around the world, from ancient to relatively modern times, where men fought battles or played sports naked,' she said brightly. 'A group of ancient Vikings called Berserkers fought nude. Their enemies thought they were crazy for not fighting in protective gear, let alone clothing, that they were terrified of them. During the ancient Olympic Games, the athletes competed in the nude, and married women weren't allowed to participate or watch. The Maori from New Zealand and ancient Scottish warriors used to fight naked, so their opponents could see their extensive tattoos. The tattoos told their foes where they were from, how fiercely they'd fought in previous battles, and so on.'

Far from being annoyed at having accidentally kick-started another lecture series, Draco rested his chin on top of Hermione's head, closed his eyes and smiled, listening to her voice rise and fall.

With a hop, skip and an apparation later, the four landed back at Casa Farfalle, desperate for a swim and a beer under the baking-hot Italian sun. After all, their holidays were due to end soon, and the spectre of university loomed just around the corner for them all.

A couple of hours later, refreshed but a little tipsy, they trooped inside for another beautiful Italian meal. Over rovellini lucchese, breaded pork escalopes served with a tomato sauce made zingy with anchovies and capers, Blaise asked 'Have either of you had any news about Ron?'

Draco and Hermione glanced at each other, then at their plates.

'Is it that bad?' Blaise asked in alarm.

'No! The food's delicious,' Hermione assured him.

He mock-glared at her. 'You know that's not what I'm talking about.'

'Worth a shot,' she replied weakly.

Pouring himself another beer for fortification, Draco summarised what Charlie Weasley had told them. When he got to the end, Blaise groaned and buried his head in his hands.

'What the fuck was I thinking?' he ground out.

Giorgia looked lost. 'I am sorry,' she said 'but what is going on?'

'Blaise was going out with my friend Ron's sister,' Hermione said gently. 'She was manipulated into being intimate with Draco, and when they found out, they attacked him, and challenged him to a duel.'

Giorgia stared at Draco before turning to Blaise. 'Is this why you had to go to another school?' she asked.

He sighed heavily. 'Yeah. I hate myself for what I did. I can't believe I fell into that bitch's clutches.'

Giorgia looked even more confused. 'Which bitch?'

'Pansy Parkinson. A former associate of mine and the coldest, greediest, most manipulative cow that ever darkened Hogwarts' doors,' said Draco edgily. 'And that's saying something.'

'This Pansy arranged everything to happen? All the scheming and grief and heartache and violence?'

'Yeah. And we fell for it.'

Giorgia was silent, fingering the stem of her wine glass. Eventually, she asked 'Why has Ron changed so much?'

'We're not sure,' Hermione said sadly. 'We thought that having him working with his brother in Romania would give him the opportunity to think about what he'd done and want to come back and turn over a new leaf. But it appears he's worse than ever.'

'I'm so sorry, cara,' Blaise said dejectedly. 'I behaved like such an ass.'

She smiled wanly, but kissed his cheek. 'This happened before I met you. I just care about the man I see in front of me now.'

They hugged, and Hermione and Draco smiled.

Later on, all four were sprawled on the floor of the minimalist living room, gathered around a pack of exploding cards. Blaise had unearthed some elf-made wine from his stepfather's cellar, and they were all contributing to its disappearance.

They began by playing Exploding Snap in accordance with the rules, but as their goblets emptied and replenished with the beautiful but dangerous wine, their wand-play began to suffer terribly. This, of course, was a source of great amusement to the foursome, who were well on their way to becoming rather drunk.

It was Giorgia who suggested they put the wands away and pay a forfeit if a card exploded when it was their turn. Hermione agreed enthusiastically, which Draco knew was a good sign that she was well on her way to becoming sozzled. He grinned. This could make for an interesting night...

At first, the forfeits were mild and silly. Draco had to sing the Hogwarts school song, which he did (badly), and Giorgia had to sing hers, which she did (beautifully). Blaise had to hop around the large living room on one foot – which was harder than it sounded, thanks to the wine, but he rather gracelessly achieved it. And Hermione had to recite the ingredients, and the order of use, that went into a Polyjuice Potion. Which she accomplished perfectly, of course.

Draco tried to register a protest that Hermione's forfeit was way too easy for her, but he was good-naturedly shouted down.

As the evening wore on, the forfeits developed into… interesting territory, shall we say.

Blaise and Draco had already lost their t-shirts (no biggie to them) when Draco lost another round. Giorgia and Hermione whispered together, tossing coy glances at him, when Hermione suddenly turned pink – then nodded.

Interesting, Draco thought. What are the ladies up to?

Giorgia said - with a Slytherin-like smirk - 'Draco, you have to kiss Blaise.'

Hermione toppled over, giggling, while Blaise threw his head back and moaned 'Why me?' to the far-off ceiling.

Draco smirked and put down his goblet. 'I take it that a kiss on the cheek is inadequate?'

Giorgia, whose grasp of English was starting to desert her, turned to Hermione, who said 'You got it, buster.'

'All right,' Draco sighed and crawled over to Blaise. 'But if the two of you get hopelessly turned on by our overpowering sexiness, you only have yourselves to blame.'

'We'll cope.'

Blaise watched Draco approach with a smile playing on his lips. When Draco's face was close to his, a look exchanged between them. Draco rested his hand on the back of Blaise's neck, and drew him to his lips.

Their kiss was gentle, sexy - yet chaste. Very different from when Draco kissed Theo, but then, their attraction to each other was a motivating factor. Blaise was definitely a good-looking bloke, and Draco liked him enormously – well, as much as a Malfoy could like anyone – but that was all.

And when he pulled away and looked into Blaise's twinkling eyes, he knew they were on the same page.

The girls clapped and whistled their appreciation, and Draco executed a bow. Not a very deep one; he was a little scuppered; and Malfoys do not fall arse over tit, even when they're sozzled.

He slumped elegantly to the floor. 'That's it, I'm done,' he announced. 'You remaining three can continue to deprave each other. I'll just watch. And maybe referee.'

'That sounds good. I'll join him,' said Blaise.

'No! You're not allowed!' Giorgia howled.

'Why on earth not?'

'That last dare was Draco's, not yours.'

'But I kissed him!'

'Technically, mate, I kissed you,' Draco drawled.

'Yes, what he said.' Giorgia's hair rippled up and down as she emphatically nodded.

Hermione lay on the floor, humming.

Blaise sighed theatrically. 'Fine,' he said. 'But after my next humiliating dare, I'm out.'

He executed his swan song admirably well, despite efforts from the floor to trip him up. Hermione dared him to do fifty press-ups, considering herself quite generous that she didn't insist that he do them on his knuckles, or on one hand, for instance. But she soon regretted it as he rolled onto his stomach with a self-satisfied smirk, laid his palms on the floor, raised his body off it, and sank into what looked like a series of effortless rises and falls.

Giorgia noted Hermione's sulk and agreed with it. Wobbling to her feet, she thought better of it and sank onto her knees. She crawled sultrily to her industrious boyfriend, and when his body was close to the floor, she leapt onto his back, clamped her knees against his ribs and 'woo-hoo'ed in delight as Blaise – recovering admirably from the shock of having another weight land on his back – gamely continued to the end.

Although press ups forty-five through fifty were a little more wobbly than he would have preferred.

He slumped to the floor, acknowledging the enthusiastic applause with a tired wave of his hand. Giorgia climbed off her 'horse' and crawled back to the girls' side, giving Blaise a more-than-adequate glimpse of her pert bottom through her tiny shorts.

There was an exchange of words in Italian, followed by Giorgia's laugh, but neither volunteered to translate to the mono-language speakers in the room.

Blaise pulled himself upright and shuffled over to Draco, who toasted him with his goblet.

'Come on, ladies,' Blaise smirked,' entertain your men!'

Inevitably, an exploding card exploded – this time, on Giorgia's side. She pouted as Hermione went into hysterics.

'Come on, then,' Giorgia sighed dramatically, 'do your worst!'

The gentlemen conferred in low voices. Then Draco announced 'What's sauce for the gander is sauce for the goose.'

'Wha-?' slurred Giorgia. 'You want to eat a goose? Now?'

Blaise snorted with laughter while Draco rolled his eyes.

'No, my dear. Since basic proverbs are obviously beyond your comprehension at the moment, I'll cut to the chase and tell you that your forfeit is to kiss Hermione.'

'That's me!' Hermione cried.

Giorgia looked at the boys speculatively, then shrugged eloquently. She crawled over to Hermione, who was lying on the floor again, took her arms and hauled her upright into a sitting position.

'Hello!' Hermione grinned.

'Hello,' Giorgia replied. 'Your boyfriend says I have to kiss you.'

Hermione blinked. 'He's not my boyfriend!' she protested.

Draco spat out his wine.

'He is my... lover!' she whispered with great exaggeration and seriousness.

Blaise clamped his hand over his mouth to stop some girlish giggles from escaping. Draco put a hand on his bare chest over his heart. Yup. It was still beating, thank Salazar.

'Well then,' Giorgia smiled. 'Shall we show the boys how it's really done?'

'Will we be graded?' Hermione earnestly asked.

'Oh, yes, Granger,' Blaise replied with a smirk. 'Rigorously graded.'

Hermione nodded, pleased, and lifted up her face to Giorgia's.

She leaned close to Hermione and gently rubbed noses, causing Hermione to giggle. Then Giorgia parted her lips a little, bent down further... and kissed Hermione's pulse, then followed with a long, slow drag of her tongue.

Hermione jumped; then moaned.

Blaise and Draco stared; mouths open, drinks forgotten.

Georgia kissed her way along Hermione's jawline to her chin, always following with a languorous lick of her tongue. Hermione's eyes were closed, and her breath rose and fell erratically.

Georgia looked out of the corner of her eye at the boys. They were motionless, almost forgetting how to breathe. One look at Blaise's crotch and she could tell he was aroused; a flickering glance to Draco confirmed his own similar state.

She turned back to Hermione, whose skin tasted of sunshine and wine. Hermione's eyes were half-open, and she subconsciously licked her lips. Giorgia gave her a feline smile, leaned in, and sealed her mouth over Hermione's.

A/N: Please stick around for the next chapter...