Chapter 4
Soundtrack - Klaus Hallen "Cuando Volveras"
He couldn't believe his eyes. Potter, Granger, and Weasley with his sister were sitting at a table in the most luxurious hall and drinking exquisite wine in the most expensive resort in the wizarding world. And among them – El, delighted and contented, happily waving her hand and invites him to join them. No, Draco must have gone nuts. He must have gotten a heatstroke while he and El were walking around the Magnolia, and considering that he had just had a glass of strong wine, it was no surprise that he was imagining all sorts of nonsense.
Draco almost laughed: the Golden Trio and El, together, here in the Magnolia, truly absurd.
The thought of this somehow calmed him down, and he closed his eyes so that the delusion would pass as soon as possible. Elisa was right – she should have conjured some kind of hat for him to hide from direct sunlight. Damn it.
Draco finally slowly opened his eyes and was going to tell El about the delusional mirage, as a cruel understanding of the reality of what was happening had hit him: right in front of him was the Golden Trio with the youngest Weasley, and next to them was Elisa, who had already begun to frown slightly because he, like an absolute fool, stupidly stood still, unable to utter a word.
"Draco, caro mio, why are you standing there? Come closer," Elisa finally said with a slight bewilderment in her voice.
She didn't seem to have expected such a strange reaction from everyone present. Draco didn't tell her much about his past at Hogwarts, because it was inextricably linked to the darkest period of his life, which he preferred not to remember. And Elisa, on her part, never asked him if he knew the Weasley family, as if she was afraid to remind him of those years once again.
"Holy Merlin," Granger breathed out, and Draco immediately gave her a mocking look.
"Thanks, Granger, just call me Draco," he quipped, raising an eyebrow.
Here it is – a typical manner of their communication, and she had already managed to wean from it.
"Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy," Granger snapped back, and with a shake of her head, she quickly turned away.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Ron Weasley muttered through clenched teeth, glaring at Draco from under his brows.
Malfoy grinned and casually strolled up to the table.
"Nice to see you too, Weasley, but that's the question I have to ask you. Did you sell all your, uh, possessions to buy a voucher?" Draco's lips curled in disdain.
"I don't think so, though. If that was the case, you would only have enough money for a couple of days in the suburbs of London."
"Shut up, Malfoy," Potter said grimly. "Sorry you didn't have enough money to get your daddy out of Azkaban."
Draco's eyes narrowed in disdain and he slowly turned his gaze to him.
"Oh, Potter, haven't seen each other for a long time, have we?" Draco began deliberately casually. "How are you? Still feeding your faithful dog Weasley with handouts from the Ministry? And how could I not have guessed at once!"
Potter managed to restrain Weasel in time, before he made a pathetic attempt to explain Malfoy what was happening, without the help of words.
"Draco, stop it!" El shouted at him, dumbfounded, and looked around indignantly. "What's going on here?"
There was a silent pause at the table, except for Ronald's obscene wailing, still struggling to get out of Potter's grip, and the typical din of the restaurant.
Granger stealthily shifted her gaze from one face to another. It was quite clear that none of her friends knew how to explain better the whole thing to El. And Draco was expectantly silent, confident that Granger would decide to "save" the situation anyway...
"Let me explain," Hermione started carefully, clearing her throat. It was quite obvious that she often pulled her moron "friends" out of awkward situations like this, preferring to take responsibility, even though she often suffered the most because of it.
Even now, it was clear that she felt uncomfortable under his and El's piercing gazes, while Potter and the Weasleys waited tensely for her to say something.
There was nowhere to retreat, so Granger took a deep breath and bravely began:
"You see, Elisa, so it happened that in school the four of us and Mal...Draco were in different houses..."
"Good start, Granger," Malfoy said mockingly behind Hermione.
"…And we were at completely different social circles," she continued, ignoring his remark. "That is, we have always adhered to radically opposite views on life and..."
"Even better," Draco snorted."… And because of this we didn't communicate with each other," Hermione began to boil slightly raising her voice. "And, as you may have guessed, we've always been not on the best terms. Slytherin and Gryffindor disliked each other for centuries."
"Disliked? Granger! I'm going to cry now!" Malfoy rolled his eyes theatrically as he watched Weasley's face grow redder with anger, and Potter had already clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles turned white. Draco had forgotten what a pleasant feeling it was to have Potty and Weasel on edge.
Finally, Granger's composure came to an end. She turned sharply, got up from her chair and found herself directly in the front of Draco.
"You are a twitchy little ferret! If you're so smart, then go ahead and explain to her why you've been hating me, Harry and Ron your entire life, and acting like a narcissistic bastard, insulting everyone around for no reason and trying to assert yourself at the expense of humiliating others!"
Draco looked down at the angry Granger, who, having blurted out everything in one breath, now stared at him, panting. Surely, from the outside, she looked like an angry cat trying to confront a ruthless tiger: bravely, but useless. Draco was at least eight inches taller than her, and much stronger.
"Bravo, Granger, how much expression!" Malfoy waved his hand dramatically. "Just do me a favor, get away from me: such an intimate... hmm... proximity, to put it mildly, disturbs me."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Weasley jump up from his seat, trying to move towards him, but his sister, this red-haired girlfriend of Potter, grabbed him so that Weasel only tried to brush her off unsuccessfully.
"You're so..." Hermione took an involuntary step back, blushing and shaking her head.
"Incredibly charming? Thanks, I know Granger." Draco grinned at her. Only this smile was unkind, his eyes remained contemptuously cold as before.
"Shut your mouth, you bastard!" Harry snapped, glaring at him with hatred. "I don't know, how you can date him, Elisa, he's a monster!"
"Fucking Death Eater!" Weasel spat out.
El's gaze flashed, and she was about to answer, when she was suddenly interrupted by Ronald's furious sister, Ginny Weasley:
"You both shut up! Look at you, you're no better than Malfoy! Like we're back at school, for crying out loud! Isn't it time to learn how to behave like adults?!"
Potter and Weasel had gone quiet and now looked ashamed.
Draco admired how skillfully the Chosen One's little girlfriend managed to rein them in even without magic.
"Forgive us, El, for this scene. I'm deeply sorry this happened," Ginny looked at Elisa with remorse.
It was obvious that she was wondering how a girl as beautiful as El could call "beloved" such an "arse" like Draco.
Well, he deserved it.
"It's alright, Ginny, it's all Draco's fault," Elisa said through clenched teeth and squinted at him.
Malfoy knew that look, it didn't bode well. It meant that he'll face a stormy debriefing with all the typical Italian expressions. Sweet El. She still thinks that this will help him "change."
"Honey, I was just greeting my old pals in their own manner," Malfoy smiled coldly at her. "And now, I think, it's better for us to leave. Or I'm afraid the bonds of friendship will grow stronger."
With these words, he offered Elisa his hand. An oppressive atmosphere reigned at the table. El sat motionless for a while, glaring at Draco, but eventually she nervously took his hand and got up from the chair.
"I beg your pardon for Draco and me for the inconvenience," Elisa said, throwing a warning glance at Malfoy, and immediately tried to look friendly, trying to cope with her emotions. "Hermione, Harry, it was a pleasure. Ginny, Ron – I'm incredibly happy you're both here! I hope to see you again soon."
As she said that Elisa quickly turned around and hurried away. Draco rolled his eyes defiantly, but said nothing. He already had a serious showdown with El to come, and it wasn't in his interests to make things worse. The only thing he wanted now was to get away from Dumbledore's fucking golden kids and have a glass of cold Firewhiskey. No, better two.
"What do you mean "He can't see you"?! I'm his niece, for Merlin's sake! And he's expecting me!" El gasped with indignation. She had already been trying for quite some time to convince a cute blonde with an angelic appearance, but a damn stubborn temper to let her into Lorenzo's office. However, all attempts were unsuccessful.
"Signorina, even if you were his daughter, I wouldn't dare to let you in," the girl repeated persistently, already starting to get a little irritated.
"I have an official invitation," Elisa persistently thrust a letter with the symbols of "Magnolia" under the blonde's nose. "Is that enough for you to let us see Lorenzo, signora?"
El had purposely emphasized the last word, and now she was looking at the blonde with angry triumph, enjoying her reaction. Draco felt a little sorry for this pretty witch. The poor thing turned purple with anger and seemed ready to tear El to pieces. Obviously, she tried her best to hide her long-past-girlish age with the help of anti-aging charms and sincerely hoped that no one would notice.
"Signora", what a faux pas!" finally the girl exhaled indignantly and involuntarily touched her face with well-groomed fingers. "I'm too young to be treated like that."
"Oh, sorry, I just thought that you were married," El grinned, watching the elongated face of the blonde, and after that she added meaningfully: "But now since you mentioned age…"
Draco hurriedly pushed off the wall he had been standing by all this time and walked over to the table, gently pushing Elisa aside. The blonde was already ready to grab onto Elisa's hair, but, apparently, due to her official duties, she used her last strength to restrain her emotions, filling with outrage more and more with each breath.
Draco often came to Elisa's aid at such moments. Sometimes even El said that she would have been killed with some Unforgivable Curses long ago without him. Draco was genuinely surprised how she had survived and unharmed at all with such a cocky and scandalous character, which she showed to the fullest if something didn't go as planned. And then, at the right moment, he, Draco Malfoy, would step in with his reserved and thoughtful play on other people's emotions and weaknesses.
He smiled sadly at his thoughts, realizing that he once more had to do it. Yes, El would probably throw a tantrum, but there was no other way.
Draco put his hands on the table on each side of the receptionist and tilted his head to gaze intently into her eyes. He knew she was probably feeling awkward and uncomfortable because he had violated her personal space, and now he was watching her reaction. The girl froze in bewilderment and, with a sigh, held her breath. She looked at Draco with eyes widening in surprise and was absolutely unsure what to expect from him next. Her anger seemed to have disappeared, as Draco's behavior had clearly disarmed her. Nevertheless, she didn't move away, but on the contrary, as if under hypnosis, even leaned forward a little. It was a good sign, and Malfoy leaned even closer to her, breathing hot over the girl's cheek. The blonde didn't dare to move, as if she had fallen into some kind of trance. Draco barely brushed his lips over her cheek and stopped at her ear.
"Excuse me, signorina, but we really do need to get to Signor Lorenzo," Draco purred in a hushed, velvet voice, lightly touching her skin with his lips.
"Could you take a look at the letter to be sure, bella?"
Malfoy pulled back and looked the blonde straight in her eyes with a slight half-smile. She opened her mouth a little and stared at Draco in a way that if it could undressed him, he would have been naked by now.
Draco had often seen this expression on girls' faces. He knew how to play on their feelings and desires, and they all fell for his tricks almost every time.
It seems that some of the thoughts were reflected on his face, because the blonde, embarrassed, pulled away from him and hastily turned her gaze to the letter.
"Yeah – of course, signor, I'll take a look," she said, clearing her throat, and gave Draco a shy smile. Malfoy nodded contentedly and shot a quick glance at El.
She stood with her arms folded across her chest and shook her head reproachfully.
She was well aware that Draco had two undeniable advantages over others that were immediately evident: wealth and beauty. Yes, Draco was fabulously rich, his family owned a fortune that had been raised over the centuries. The Malfoys knew how to handle money. From time immemorial, they sometimes loved it even more than their children, because money gave power, and power allowed them to feel superiority over other wizards for centuries, and get a lot without much difficulty. Well, the vaunted purity of blood and even more so made the Malfoy family almost demigods in the eyes of most magicians, and even those who sincerely hated this family.
Draco had rethought a lot since the end of the war, and, in fact, almost all of his ideas about life had burst like a big soap bubble, but others hadn't. Others still put money at the forefront, and Draco often used it with quiet disgusting sadness. It was impossible to do otherwise, he had buried the hope of living differently long ago.
Surprisingly, people were willing to sell their souls to the devil for money, and even more so to fulfill the urgent request of "Mr. Malfoy".
Back when he had wandered around the world, hoping to escape the horror of his usual life, Draco had learned that people were the same everywhere. At first he was even annoyed, but soon he just stopped caring. The world will never change. And what difference does it really make what the means are, if they justify the ends?
And as for beauty, Draco's was special one. He certainly wasn't the cute, sweet, handsome guy that crowds of girls admired. His beauty wasn't noble, as in the paintings of great artists depicting good knights, and he himself never claimed to be a handsome prince. But he knew that his hard lips, pointed chin, well-defined cheekbones, chiseled aristocratic nose and gray, slightly narrowed eyes with a haze carried such a clear energy of danger and something forbidden that some people were feeling chills and were ready to rush away from him, while others, on the contrary, felt drawn to him, succumbing to a strange magnetic impulse.
It was all about Draco's unusual talent that he skillfully used for his own, usually self-serving purposes. He discovered this in his fifth year as an understanding of his skill to magically guess the weaknesses and desires of girls came to him. Draco knew what to do to drive them mad and make them want him. He could make a woman believe that she is the one and only, give her pleasure and just as easily take it away, humiliating and killing all pride and dignity. The girls felt it, and it terrified them, they wanted to run away from Draco, and on the other hand, towards him, waiting for at least short-term happiness and sensual pleasure. That's when Malfoy could do whatever he wanted – achieve any goals, taking advantage of the weakness of his victims.
He was a flame devouring anyone who got too close, and those women who were captured by his magnetism walked towards this fire, hurrying to their little death, like moths chained by their desire to possess beauty.
That's what was so disarming, made the mind shout "Save yourself!", and pushed body towards danger.
At the same time, oddly enough, Draco very rarely used this skill to drag a woman into bed, but almost always to achieve something on a simple level of life.
He just loved strong and independent women, and he didn't want to bother for those who just became a semblance of a floor rag, succumbing to his charms, even for the sake of bed pleasures.
That is why, thanks to these talents of his, Draco Malfoy always achieved everything he wanted, either with the help of money and power that worked flawlessly on men, or with the help of attractive beauty and magnetism, in case he had to deal with women.
Elisa was annoyed by this state of affairs, but she had to get used to the idea that there was no way to change this trait in Draco. He was used to using his father's favorite methods over the years, almost always. Playing by the established rules wasn't for him, he preferred to set them himself, spitting on honor and morality.
And now, this stupid receptionist – and how could Lorenzo even hire her? – periodically threw ambiguous glances at Draco, obviously hoping for the continuation of the "conversation". Stupid girl, just another trophy in Draco's gallery of particularly easy victories. He could even swear that any moment now she'd start unbuttoning her white blouse.
Not wanting to look at this performance anymore, Elisa asked impatiently: "Can we get through now?"
The blonde shuddered at the demanding voice of the Italian woman and looked at her with displeasure.
"Excuse me, but I need to check this information with the Signor," the girl answered dryly and, straightening her skirt, swayed her hips in the direction of the office, previously having thrown another inviting glance at Draco. Malfoy grinned and winked at Elisa, who was staring after her with distaste. "Stupida gallina!* In less than two minutes, she's ready to pull off her blouse!" El hissed as the girl muttered the password and disappeared behind the door.
"No wonder," Draco snorted and added in a bored tone, "Most women are all the same. The same reaction from time to time – it's getting boring."
He wished he hadn't said that. Elisa stared at him, trying to incinerate him with her gaze.
"What do you think my reaction should be when you behave like this again in front of my eyes?!"
Draco exhaled loudly. He didn't even hope to avoid a natural scandal, but this time the consequences seem to be much worse. But El should thank him for persuading such an uncooperative person.
"El, please don't start..."
"No, Draco, I'll start!" the Italian interrupted him angrily. "Tell me, why do I have to endure this performance every time?! Do you think it gives me a pleasure to watch you try to get into another dumb girl's panties in the name of achieving your fucking goal?!"
Draco laughed. Elisa liked to exaggerate unnecessarily the importance of the events taking place, and it seemed to him quite amusing.
"Don't talk nonsense! I just asked her to look at the letter, moreover, to achieve your goal. And thanks to this, you will soon meet your dearest uncle Lorenzo!
It's not news to you, El, that I know how to communicate with people and I use it often, so stop this hysteria!"
Something changed in Elisa's face, and Draco didn't like it.
"Really? You know how to communicate with people, Draco, don't you?" El's eyes flashed evilly. "What about your warm, um, communication with the Weasleys, Harry and Hermione?"
There was nothing to say to that. Bravo, El, you're right again. Now it became clear why she started up now more than usual. They didn't have time to discuss what had happened in the hall, as El in sullen silence immediately went in search of Lorenzo, and Draco could hardly keep up with her.
"El, my relationship with Potter, Weasley and Granger is beyond your grasp, believe me. It's too hard to explain," Draco said with grim harshness. "And we'll never be good friends who wishes each other a "good day" upon meeting."
There was a tense silence for a while, and then the voice of the Italian cut through tight silence.
"Why do you hate them so much, Draco?" El said quietly with incomprehension peering into Malfoy's face as if she hoped to find the answer to her question.
"I don't hate them, El," Draco said wearily. "It's just... That's the way things are."
And it was true. If before he felt an all-consuming hatred for the Golden Trio with every cell of his being, dreamed of turning their lives into hell, and used every opportunity to bring Potter to white heat, now everything was completely different from just five years ago. He didn't know what contributed to this: maybe the fact that this very Potter saved his life, knowing full well that Draco would hardly have done the same, or maybe it was the horror that the Dark
Lord was doing on his estate that made Malfoy look at life in a completely different way. Hundreds of Muggles and wizards were killed in front of his eyes, and with every death scream of the victim, with every convulsive pain on the helpless faces of mostly innocent people, Draco began to hate Voldemort more and more. And against the background of this black, searing icy hatred for the most terrible creature in the world, who his father worshiped so much, that school hostility towards the Golden Trio, and towards Gryffindor in general, seemed just harmless childish stupidity and a manifestation of youthful maximalism.
So no, he didn't hate Potter, Weasleys and Granger, damn them. They just annoyed him. And if there was a choice to be with them in the same room or not, he would prefer not to see these heroic faces for the rest of his life. Draco's thoughts were interrupted with the sound of an opened door nearby and the chiseled figure of a blonde came into view.
"Forgive me, signor, but Mr. Lorenzo is not there now," she stated in frustration, guiltily looking Draco in the eyes. She didn't want to disappoint him.
"Where is he?" El asked sharply, not doubting the veracity of the receptionist's words. The girl shuddered and turned her gaze in displeasure at Elisa, curling her lips.
"I don't know, and even if I did, I wouldn't have told you," she said coldly.
"Signorina, bella, do you know when he will be back?" Draco said hastily cutting off El's attempt to tell her a couple of gentle ones.
"Unfortunately, I don't have such information, signor, but I can tell you that Mr. Lorenzo will be present at the evening show."
Draco raised an eyebrow in confusion.
"At the evening show?.."
"Yes, sir. Mr. Lorenzo, as a rule, personally present at this event, and you'll be able to talk to him this evening," the blonde gave Draco a charming smile. It was noticeable that she had some time to preen herself while she was in Lorenzo's office.
Yes, Draco may have overdone his efforts a bit to help El, but it wasn't his fault that sometimes women are too impressionable.
"Okay, thanks for the information, but it's time for us to go, right, Draco, caro mio?" El demonstratively pressed herself against Malfoy glancing at the blonde unkindly. She was unhappy with what she saw, and proudly raised her nose, as she venomously threw in El's face:
"That's fine! Good luck!"
"And you, signora!"
El said goodbye and pulled Draco's arm away. He hurried after her after winking at the angry receptionist. He really hoped that they would have time to leave before she rushed after them with her fists.
The blonde seemed to be saying something about the evening show? Probably, she was wrong with the time, because for Draco the show had already begun, and there were much more characters in it than he had expected.
Hermione walked the familiar path to her bungalow and continued down the sunlit alley. She breathed in with pleasure the concentrated aroma of flowers, sea air, and subtle notes of exquisite wine. Malfoy spoiled her mood and appetite badly with his unexpected appearance, but she decided not to let emotions take control over her, and therefore, without waiting for friends, went for a walk in the beautiful surroundings of the magnificent Magnolia as a little distraction.
She loved to walk alone. This allowed her to concentrate, reflect calmly on various matters, and just daydream a little. For Hermione, the walk was a kind of relaxation. That is why whenever she quarreled with Ron, was very tired, or simply was in a bad mood, the first thing she did was going for a walk to get some fresh air and to enjoy the pristine beauty of nature. And now with every step she took, she felt better and better, and there was practically no unpleasant residue left in her soul by the quarrel with Malfoy.
After he and Elisa disappeared from her sight, a depressing atmosphere reigned at the table, and there was no trace of that joyful anticipation they'd had. And how can anyone be happy about something when this ferret walks somewhere nearby, desecrating a wonderful place with his presence? However, he isn't alone here, and therefore there is a possibility that at least with his girlfriend he won't behave like the biggest jerk on Earth. The thought was very calming.
After all, Ron started today's squabble, and it remains unknown whether Malfoy would have behaved this way or not. Hermione mentioned this at the table when she and Ginny begged Ron and Harry next time not to provoke a conflict and not to take Draco's bait. It's funny, but Hermione realized that she has yet to learn not to do so herself: today Malfoy managed to piss her off, which even during school years happened extremely rarely. Usually, Hermione tried not to pay attention to his tricks and simply ignored his attacks in her direction, while trying to reason with Harry and Ron, but after so many years of no squabbling, her iron equanimity cracked.
Also, she didn't notice how much her job at the Ministry had shaken her nerves. She worked too much for wear and tear, loaded herself with responsibilities to the point of failure, came to the Ministry before everyone else, and left later than everyone else did. She didn't confess to anyone, but deep down she wanted to become "The Best Employee of the Year", to win the in-ministerial competition established as a way of rewarding employees for their special contribution to the work of the Ministry of Magic with an inevitable promotion and salary, of course. In her department, Hermione, as a newcomer, wasn't taken seriously, due to belief that such a young witch couldn't be better than those who have worked in this place for years or even decades. Many perceived her as "Harry Potter's friend", thought that without him she was a very mediocre witch. But they underestimated Hermione: the nominations committee simply turned a blind eye to the fact that her productivity rate and total tasks completed in a year was much higher than the result of a simple employee. It was maddening, but Hermione was used to fighting against all odds, gritting her teeth in indignation and continuing to move on. Back in school, she realized that people don't like those who stand out from the crowd. And she stood out with her sharp mind and frenzied performance which was pretty annoying for many. And because for that year, Hermione fought with herself and gave more and more weighty results, swallowing offense and continuing to work for three. Most recently, her department submitted a list of new nominees for "the Best Employee of the Year" award, and Hermione's name wasn't on it again. And if it weren't for Harry with his unexpected gift in the form of a ticket, then Hermione would surely have had a nervous breakdown, because her emotional state in recent months couldn't be called good anyway, and after such a tension reached a critical point. Now she fully realized this and promised herself not to work so much in the future, even for the sake of the most worthy of the awards.
Hermione didn't notice how the alley ended, and she stepped onto a cobbled square covered with white sand, surrounded by giant palm trees. Her eyes instantly dazzled. It looked like she was at a magical fair, woven of hundreds of multi-colored tents, benches, and all kinds of attractions. Cheerful exclamations of wizards were heard everywhere, children laughed loudly, and the professionally delivered voices of merchants rolled around the square.
Everybody was there! Smart witches, sparkling with bright ringing bracelets and offering to buy exotic dishes, and tanned elderly Italians, inviting for a "luccicante e memorabile"** show for a purely symbolic (as it seemed to them) payment, and crowds of wizards looking around in ecstatic amazement...
Hermione's eyes were dazzled by such a variety, and she couldn't determine exactly what to look closer at first, so she decided to look into the nearest store. It turned out to be a small shop with beautiful decorations made of natural flowers. Hermione thought that Ginny would be happy to be here – she was very fond of such things.
Behind the counter was a frail young Italian, watching Hermione vividly.
"Welcome, bella! Don't hesitate, choose the most beautiful piece of jewelry for yourself in the best "Beautiful Magnolia" store! How about this lovely necklace, signorina?"
The boy didn't waste time and airlifted up an ornament of small neat flowers that change color in a businesslike manner. Hermione smiled: something like this had once been given to her. But Hermione herself wasn't very fond of jewelry, and this necklace was also too extravagant for her.
The Italian realized that the jewelry wasn't her type, quickly returned the necklace back to its place and lifted a bracelet.
"Then maybe this, bella? Handwork! Father cut flowers from our flower bed with his hand and weaved them into magic threads."
The bracelet was very cute, and Hermione involuntarily wanted to touch these delicate, light pink petals of flowers she had never seen before. When she touched them, she immediately jerked her fingers away, frightened, because the flowers snapped shut at once, and small tight buds formed in their place. The Italian hastily put the bracelet under the counter, making excuses:
"Oh, excuse me, bella, this variety of flowers was bred recently, so we haven't yet fully studied its habits."
"It's okay, everything's all right!" the frightened Hermione assured the upset young man. "If it's possible, can I just have a look around now?"
"Of course, signorina! You can come get me any time!" the boy answered with slight disappointment and sat down on a chair leaning on his knee.
Hermione walked along the counter, strewn with all kinds of earrings, bracelets, and necklaces, and stopped in front of a section with hairpins. A small white magnolia flower with a scarlet core caught her eye. It barely shone with magical light and was charmingly beautiful. Hermione carefully took it in her hands and examined it from different angles. The hairpins were nowhere to be found.
"Excuse me, sir, but how do you put this flower on?" Hermione turned to the Italian. He, as if on command, jumped up to her, grabbing a mirror with him.
"Oh bella, you have good taste!" He smiled broadly at her.
"Thanks, but still, could you explain, please?" Hermione was still twirling the flower in her hands. She knew a lot about flowers, including magnolias, but this one was completely different. The boy quickly snatched the flower from her hands and, placing the mirror directly in front of her face, said:
"Just watch."
He blew lightly on the back of the flower, which made it sparkle even more and then gently put it to Hermione's temple. The flower immediately began to slowly move towards the crown, beautifully picking up the hair behind it. Hermione raised her hand in surprise, and the flower stood motionless.
"This variety is called Lunar magnolia," the Italian began seriously. "The flower is very rare and mostly hides underground. It rises to the surface only at the full moon, absorbing the moonlight and the energy necessary for its existence. It can be worn as you like, because it keeps itself, just blow on it a little and bring it where you want to put it on. It can be a bracelet, a brooch, and, for example, as now, a hairpin for your beautiful hair, bella!"
Hermione stared into the mirror fascinated. She loved this magnolia, and it matched her long hair so well that for the first time in a long time, she felt really beautiful. The delicate light of the flower perfectly set off her slightly tanned skin, and this hairstyle made her face softer and suited her. Hermione sighed and pulled the magnolia out of her hair with a slight tug. She easily succumbed and instantly faded, being in her hands. No, after all, such things aren't for her.
Hermione was too accustomed to her inevitably tied up hair and the discreet style of dress that was welcomed in the Ministry of Magic.
"Well, does bella want to buy this wonderful magnolia?!" The boy asked triumphantly as if he had no doubts in a positive answer, but Hermione had to disappoint him.
"I can't buy it now, signor," she said with a sad smile. "I left my money in the bungalow, and besides, I rarely wear jewelry. But still, thank you for your attention, it was a pleasure to talk to you! And I'm sorry I just wasted your time. See you!" Hermione had already turned to leave when she felt a hand touch her shoulder. She turned around and saw a puny Italian handing her a magnolia:
"Take it, bella. I give it to you for free!" Hermione opened her mouth in surprise and immediately raised her hands in protest.
"Oh no, signor, you shouldn't! I'd rather buy it next time!"
"No, signorina, you don't understand. The flower has chosen you! The Lunar magnolia is like a magic wand: if a person suits it, the flower feels it and begins to sparkle. I've never seen the magnolia shine so brightly and looked so perfect on somebody before," the Italian assured Hermione profoundly. "Believe me, if the Lunar magnolia chose you, then it'll no longer be able to belong to anyone, and I won't be able to sell it."
Hermione looked uncertainly at the guy's face and back at the magnolia, once again admiring its beauty. "I can't just accept it, sir! Are you sure?" She asked doubtfully. The guy came closer to her and put the flower in her hand.
"Yes, bella, believe me. It's yours now. It will bring you a lot of luck."
It dawned on Hermione. Luck. And how could she forget it?
"The crushed Lunar magnolia petals are parts of Felix Felicis, the good luck potion," she murmured thoughtfully, narrowing her eyes slightly.
The Italian laughed contentedly: "That's right, signorina! You seem to be pretty good at Herbology!"
"Oh, just a little bit," Hermione hastily waved away. It will be terrible if she becomes a know-it-all person at the resort.
Hermione stroked the delicate petals of the magnolia and only now fully realized that the flower really belongs to her now. She didn't know how to thank this generous Italian and chirped in delight: "Grazie mille ***, sir! Forgive me for not immediately thanking you, I'm so absent-minded lately! I'm feeling uncomfortable, but tell me, do I owe you anything?"
The guy smiled and waved his hand. "It's nothing, signorina. I give gifts free of charge. You could, of course, bring here an equally charming lady who loves flowers and jewelry."
The Italian winked at her and Hermione laughed.
"Yes, I have one in mind. Next time I will certainly bring her! Thank you so much again! Grazie mille, signor!"
"Prego, bella! **** Enjoy your Magnolia!"
Hermione happily fluttered out of the tent. She couldn't wait to tell Ginny about what just happened, but she decided to save the story for the evening – she asked Hermione not to bother them with Harry until dinner. And then Hermione, having decided to wander around the fair another time, intuitively moved to the left past the bright and elegant rows in search of the beach. Now and then she glanced at the magnolia, and it happily sparkled with a ghostly light, as if reflecting the mood of the owner. What a good-natured people these Italians are! It was hard to imagine that in England someone would give away such a beautiful and rare thing to a stranger. Or maybe it's the resort? Matteo said today that many pleasant events will happen here, which will lead to the best. It seems that the promised magic of the Beautiful Magnolia has made an appearance. Hermione was so carried away thinking about the amazing place where she was, that she didn't notice that she had reached a huge beach surrounded by palm trees. She stopped in shock.
There were hundreds of wizards enjoying the sun, lying on the white sand. Some hovered in the air on magic sun loungers, hoping to get a more intense tan, while others, on the contrary, tried to hide from the hot sun rays under multi-colored umbrellas, which, moreover, periodically sprayed their owners with refreshing clean water. Near the shore, a small group of activists cheerfully repeated dance moves behind a beautiful swarthy Italian woman, standing knee-deep in the water, and not far from them near the shore, several teenagers, having fun talking and creating sandcastles with the help of magic wands, now and then adding new elements to an almost finished kingdom of sand. Suddenly, right above them, a flock of children flew in a magic boat, rushing three feet above the ground. The ship slightly touched one of the castles, so it instantly collapsed, and angry exclamations of teenagers rushed after the children. Hermione immediately kicked off her sandals and walked towards the sparkling transparent sea. Her feet were softly buried in the warm sand, and a gentle breeze caressed her skin. There was a pleasant unobtrusive music on the beach, that seemed to emphasize the beauty of the surf's sound so pleasant to the ear.
Hermione came closer to the shore, and when a wave touched her feet, she stopped and closed her eyes. She deeply breathed in the scent of the sea with delight and thought that this was the scent of happiness. When Hermione opened her eyes, she noted that she hadn't experienced such an obvious feeling of pleasure and warm flutter in her chest for a long time. The endless sea that she had read so much about, stretched before her eyes. The water was crystal clear, with a light azure tint, the bottom with white sand and small nimble fish scurrying from side to side was visible. Hermione went ankle-deep and regretted not wearing a swimsuit. She wanted to plunge into the sea completely, to feel the gentle warmth of water with every cell of her body. But she reassured herself with the thought that such an opportunity would be presented to her more than once, and therefore simply silently enjoyed the soft oncoming waves, which strove to drag her along with them into the depths of the sea. It was the time to return to the bungalow since she hadn't even unpacked yet, but Hermione couldn't leave. For too long she shielded herself from the opportunity of simply enjoying her life, she blocked any thought about resting for too long, in fear of being too relaxed and losing her working tone. But here, where the gentle sea breeze enveloped her from head to toe, and the perky Latin American rhythms beckoned to dance, where the wine flowed like a river, and the chest was bursting with euphoria, it would be unforgivable stupidity to think about work and other routine matters. So Hermione mentally sent all her work duties to hell and enjoyed breathing in the sunny scent of the sea with a smile. Finally, she was truly happy.
*Stupida gallina!(it.) – Stupid chicken!
**Luccicante e memorabile (it.) – Vivid and memorable
***Grazie mille (it.) – Thank you very much
****Prego, bella! (it.) – You're welcome, beauty!
Hello friends! A small digression from the interpreters of this wonderful fanfiction: we would like to emphasize once again how important it's for us what we are doing now and the very fact that it's happening. We often read fanfiction in Russian, and we also quite often read it in English - in the original, but we never thought that we would ever begin to translate works of significance to us for an English-speaking audience. This a new step for all of us, something super interesting, even atypical and no less exciting. We'd love to hear your feedback! We hope that you will love this work as