A/N: In a moment of unsolicited insanity, I want to thank all the supportive readers of this story. It's not one of my easiest projects, but I have to say, it's definitely one of my more complex ones. Enjoy this chapter!

CHAPTER THREE

The next morning, Harry woke up to the sound of a bird chirping outside his window. Sunlight streamed in through his window, and he raised an arm to shield his eyes. The air around him was hardly recognizable, and not even the furniture in his room seemed to be his. Wait a minute…I'm in Italy, he thought to himself. He sat up in bed and tried to remember how he got to it. He came up with only memories of the airport and getting into Hermione's car. Nothing more.

Hermione!

Damn! He'd forgotten all about her! He took a quick glance around and saw that his luggage had been neatly unpacked and put away, with even his slippers on the side of his bed. He looked down at himself and saw that he was stripped to a plain white shirt and boxers and his socks. Then he inwardly chuckled to himself. Hermione must have remembered that he didn't like his feet cold or he'd wake up.

Someone knocked on the door.

Thinking it was Hermione, he quickly grabbed his robe, which was hanging off the back of a chair and took a quick look at himself in the mirror. He didn't want to bother with his glasses. When he opened the door, he saw a tall man with curly hair and an elegantly arched nose standing in front of him. "Buon giorno (good morning) sir, I am Vittorio. Signora Granger has assigned me to see to it that you are comfortable. She says that she would like to do it herself, but she is too busy and that you wouldn't really notice." The man said, in a lightly accented English. Harry blushed lightly. Hermione definitely remembered that he was a neat freak and that his idea of comfortable was everything in its place. "Well, Signora Granger was right. Please, come in," he said, backing away from the door. Vittorio strode in and took a quick look at the place. "Ah. Everything looks to be in the same place as we left it last night." He remarked, smiling.

"Uh, yeah. About last night. How did I get into bed? I only remember as far as the airport, but nothing else. And I definitely don't remember getting changed for bed last night." Harry asked. Another smile from Vittorio. " You arrived in Signora Granger's car fast asleep in the front seat at about eleven last night. You couldn't be awakened, so it took about three bellhops to carry you to your room and another two to carry your bags. I took the liberty of unpacking for you and stripping you down into your nightclothes. And Signora had a very strange request for me last night, and that was to leave your socks on. The answer to which, I will never know." Vittorio explained. Harry laughed. "I don't like cold feet during the early morning because I wake up right away." Vittorio answered with a serene smile and set about straightening the bed. "If sir has nothing else to discuss with me, I suggest that you take a bath now because Signora is waiting for you in the breakfast room. If you need me, just ask for me."

"Thanks Vittorio. And please, just call me Harry," he said, gathering his clothes and making for the bathroom.

Hermione looked at her watch and sighed. Vittorio was probably still getting Harry up. She had made sure she assigned Vittorio to Harry, knowing that she could depend on him to take care of Harry in her stead. Last night he had been a wreck, attracting funny looks from the people who were staying at the hotel.

"Morning 'Mione," a voice said from behind her. She turned back and saw Harry walking towards her, looking absolutely adorable. His hair was still damp from the shower and his clothes were looking a little rumpled. "Harry, how are you feeling?" she asked, as he took a seat across her. "Still a little tired, but I probably slept the best I did since, well, for a long time." He replied. She exhaled and motioned for a waiter to come take their orders. "I heard from Vittorio that you told him to leave my socks on." He said. "I only remember you too well Harry. And besides, here at Villa San Lorenzo, we strive to make each guest feel like he's at home, only better." She grinned. Harry looked around at the decorating and asked, "Can you tell me more about the place?"

"We're a strictly Wizard hotel here, and extra precautions have been taken to make this safe for Wizards. We're located about two hours from the airport and one hour and forty-five minutes away from the city. This village is very small and only wizards live here. It's Unplottable, the whole thing is, and when a Muggle stumbles upon it, all he sees is a rotted-out barn." She said. Harry nodded in reply. "And they made you general manager." He said.

"Yeah. By some unguarded moment of insanity." She smiled, in spite of herself. A waiter came by with their coffee, and while Hermione was adding milk and sugar to hers, Harry was watching her. "You haven't changed a bit 'Mione. You're still as efficient as you were back in Hogwarts. Save for the way you look. Italy agrees with you." He said. The unexpected compliment jolted Hermione for a moment, and that caused her to drop the whole packet of sugar into her mug. "Oh damn, that was clumsy. Waiter!" she sighed, raising an arm to attract the waiter's attention.

"No Hermione, I'll switch with you. I usually have hot chocolate in the mornings instead of coffee. And I haven't touched mine yet." Harry said, switching their mugs over. "Signora?" the waiter asked, glancing for a while at Harry. "Can you please replace this coffee with hot chocolate?" He asked, handing him the mug. The waiter took the mug from him and walked away, and Harry saw that Hermione's face was as red as the tomatoes that adorned the walls. "Did I do something wrong?" he asked. She shook her head wildly, still not looking up at him. "Hermione, what's gotten into you? One minute you're fine, the next you're as spastic as Neville. Remember him?" Harry asked, bending his head over to peer at Hermione's face.

"Of course I remember him. I don't know what's up with me either." She managed. Stupid answer Hermione. Just a look at him makes your brainwaves go all wonky, and that whole 'Italy agrees with you' thing has made you lose control. And he probably noticed the whole thing, so snap up and get straight, her brain reprimanded. She felt the color in her face slowly recede, and when she looked up, she noticed that Harry was still looking at her. "Are you okay?" he asked. She nodded, while taking a deep breath. "What do you want to do today? There's a whole load of things that you might want to see here." She asked, in an attempt to redeem herself. "Don't you have work to do?" he asked. She smiled a little, and then said, "I can knock off for today I guess. We really do have the most efficient staff here, and the most I ever do is to clear up anything that dissatisfied guests may say about us. And for staff members of course. It's really no problem Harry. I made sure I finished all my work for this week, which left my schedule clear for you. What do you want to see first?" she asked. "Well, I couldn't bring my broom in here…Customs might think I'm trying to ship in something illegal or what. So maybe the local bookstore first? I need to pick up a phrasebook or a dictionary. Then you can lead the way." He answered. "It's settled then. I'll meet you after breakfast." She said.

The waiter arrived with a fresh cup of hot chocolate and their orders for breakfast (fruit platter sprinkled with cottage cheese for Hermione, blueberry pancakes with a side of bacon and eggs for Harry). "God Harry, that's more than I can eat in a month. Your appetite hasn't changed a bit." Hermione incredulously said. He shrugged. "Fruit for breakfast only works for those skinny model people, not for hardworking sods like me. I usually work this lot off at Quidditch practice. And pay attention to your own plate; it's not like I can afford to eat like a rabbit everyday." He jabbed back, his mouth partway full. Hermione sighed in mock exasperation and just kept eating anyway. She noticed that the Harry in the letters and the Harry in front of her held a stark amount of difference. He actually seemed like he was enjoying himself. Satisfied with the situation she started to eat her breakfast, and tried not to make herself look like some spastic nutcase.

As promised, they were both in the car and making for the local bookstore. The place was quite modern for its size, with coffee bars and shops lining every street they passed. The people were also young and stylish, and they didn't seem to recognize Harry, even if he was seated in the front of Hermione's Mustang. "So tell me again; why are you in Italy?" she asked. Harry shrugged. "The guys felt I needed to blow off some steam. It worked, in a way. I feel more relaxed, and I don't have to worry about reporters. And I actually looked forward to not playing Quidditch, although I miss my broom a lot." He sighed, not taking his eyes off the street. Hermione didn't press him for more information, but she knew that there was something more he wasn't telling her. He would get around to doing so…in time.

Hermione stopped in front of an old strip mall that had newly renovated shops in front. "This is my favorite place to go for new books. For some reason, they stock up on more books in English than in Italian or in any of the local languages. I'm pretty sure you'll find a good dictionary here." She said, turning the car off and getting out. Harry followed her into a stylishly shabby shop where books lined tall bookshelves and workers dusted the shelves. "Buon giorno Signora Granger. I am sorry to say that the book you ordered has not yet arrived. But I think I have a new novel from a Mr. Tom Clancy…" an elderly woman rattled on as she tottered towards them on an ornately carved cane.

"That's Mama Sofia. She owns this bookshop, and is one of the few people who can speak straight English. But it's best if I do the talking; she can go on for ages if you let her." Hermione whispered discreetly to Harry. Harry nodded, not exactly paying attention to the old lady. "And who do we have here? Another handsome young man would be a nice addition to the bookstore staff. Goodness knows; the young people hardly prefer to read anymore. Maybe you could attract the young ladies into reading eh?" Mama Sofia cackled, leaning forward and pinching Harry's cheek, brushing Hermione aside. "Mama, we need an Italian-English, English-Italian dictionary. What do you recommend?" Hermione asked. The lady cocked her head up at Hermione, then answered with vigor and bustle. "Well, I will recommend a few titles, but you have to tell me this young man's name first. He seems so genuine." Harry blushed a little, but stuck a hand out. "Um…buon giorno ma'am. I'm Harry." He meekly offered. Instead of shaking his hand, she pulled him into her arms for a hug. "That's the boy…well, now that we have that finished, do we want a dictionary or not?" she chuckled, not letting go of Harry's arm.

After Harry paid for his dictionary, he was almost glad to get out of the store. "That old lady is worse than any reporter back home." He groaned, running a hand through his hair. The gesture caught Hermione's attention; he always did that when he was nervous or just very uncomfortable. "She's been widowed for over forty years now, and her husband, according to her was quite a good looking guy. You'll have to excuse her." Hermione chuckled. Harry smiled a little, and settled back into his seat. Things were definitely looking up, and he was looking forward to spending the day with Hermione.

"Where are we going now?" he asked. "There is something I want you to see, but you have to promise you won't get mad" she smiled. "I promise; but where are we going?" he pressed. "You'll have to see for yourself Harry, it's going to be good." She teased. Harry sighed, but smiled at the same time. No use arguing with Hermione over things like that, she was never going to give.

"I guess I can't argue can't I? You could always keep a secret, no matter how juicy it was." He said to her. "Well, what can I say? I'm just sooo trustworthy!" she saucily smiled, tossing her head back for effect. "Yeah, you are. Anyone could trust you with their life." He replied, before leaning back and enjoying the view.

But can you trust me with your heart Harry? Will you? She quietly thought to herself.