Chapter 2

In which Hermione Tries to Move to Florence

"Harry, tell me it's not true. Please."

Harry Potter, hero of the Wizarding world, the boy who had survived to Lord Voldemort five times and had eventually killed him, didn't dare to look at her friend.

"Let's just go home," he said instead, pulling her by the hand towards the exit.

They were walking in the narrow corridor outside the Wizengamot courtroom. Hermione had just been said she'd have to baby-sit Severus Snape for six months, and she was so faint Harry to pull her up the stairs.

"Careful now," he whispered, as he opened the door leading to the Entry Hall.

The moment he opened the door, flashes exploded in their faces.

"Miss Granger!"

"Miss Granger, please…"

"How do you feel," said a caressing voice, as a green-taloned hand took her violently by the arm "about spending so much time with a former teacher?"

Hermione spinned around – she knew that voice – and Rita Skeeter smiled sweetly at her.

"How do you – How – What are you doing here?" Hermione spluttered.

They had left the Courtroom five minutes ago; how could that horrible woman already know about Snape? Had she been down there in her beetle form? Was that another example of the 'top security measures' of the Minister?

"Working, honey. So: are you still attracted to him?"

Harry looked up at these words, and spotted the annoying woman.

"Leave her alone," he said quietly, dragging Hermione away.

They walked as quickly as they could, but Rita actually shouted after them.

"The most you hate, the most you love, kitty!"

Hermione actually jumped into the green flames of the nearest Floo fire, choking on the hot ashes. A second later, she was crawling out of the Burrow fireplace, with six expectant faces looking down at her. Molly, Ginny, Bill and Fleur, Ron and Hanna.

"How did it go?" asked Ron, giving her a hand up.

"Dreadful," answered Harry for her, stepping out of the flames behind her.

"I wasn't fined," she protested weakly.

"That's a funny way to describe it."

"Enough!" said Mrs Weasley. "Ginny, please make some tea. Hermione, come and sit here, you look strained dear. Harry, do tell us what has happened."

"They've accepted she did what she could in the Dawlish's situation, and she won't be punished."

"Excellent," said Ginny, coming back into the room with a tray of biscuits.

"She will, however, be forced to employ an Unwanted to clear his way back to a normal life. And she got Snape."

Ron swore, and her girlfriend, Hanna Abbot, stopped to pat Hermione's back and stared at her.

"Is that true?"

"I'm afraid it is," Hermione sighed. "But…but…you know what? Let's be positive."

"Positive?" breathed Ron, incredulous. "Hermione, not even you could possibly be positive about this. He killed Dumbledore! It is a miracle we won!"

"It is a greater miracle," said Ginny quietly "that he's still out of Azkaban."

Everybody turned towards Harry, who supposedly know more about this matter than anybody else.

"For the tenth time, no," he said, irritably "I don't know why he wasn't convicted."

"Anyway," said Hermione quickly "It's only six months, right? And he speaks Italian, he'll help me settle down. I mean, he has to, if he wants me to sign the final paper. And I'm not defenceless, I'll be able to report any abuses, and stuff."

At this, everybody started to talk at the same time.

"I think she's right," shouted Molly over the furious crowd. "She'll live in Italy, for God's sake. What does it matter with whom she'll live?"

Over the next few days, Hermione forced herself to think along those lines. She left the Burrow the day after the trial, traveled to Italy the Muggle way, and met with Harry's friend, James Clearwater, in Florence main station. James turned out to be a cousin of Penelope's, and was delighted to meet her. In a way.

"Welcome to Italy," he said, in a booming voice. "Have you thought about where your main office is going to be?"

"Er…"

Hermione looked curiously at him. Had she finally met a person more practical than herself?

"Not really," she admitted. "But I've been to Florence with my parents and"

"Forget it," he said briskly, leading her towards a big waste bin. "Flats are way too expensive."

Hermione's face fell: she'd been in Florence with her parents as a child, and had kind of hoped those memories would help her start her new life and endure Snape more easily. She tried to hide her disappointment, but James noticed it.

"Don't worry," he said gently. "We're in Tuscany, one of the most beautiful places in the world. Florence is but a part of it. What do you say," he added, leaning on the waste bin "of Pisa?"

"I…I don't know. That's the city with the tower, right?"

James nodded and took her hand, pulling her towards him.

"Look down," he said, pointing at the waste bin.

Hermione did, and all she saw was a mouldy banana peel, lying on the top of other disgusting things.

"That's your ticket to magnificent Pisa," he said, lowering their hands to the banana peel.

The moment they touched it, Hermione understood: it was a Portkey.

Over the next few days, Hermione could not even remember why she had desired to live in Florence in the first place. She spent her days walking in the medieval streets of Pisa's old town, feeding the pigeons, watching slow, graceful Arno passing under the white bridges. James had found her a flat on the last floor of an old building and, marvel, there was a garden on the roof, and an orange-tree on that roof. She'd devoted a room to her office, painting the lyrics of the Beatles' song on a wall, and enchanting them so they moved all around the room. She was ready for Harry, her first customer, who would arrive in a week.

As she sipped a tea in her sunny kitchen, she tried hard not to think about her employee – he would arrive the very next day.