A/N: I can't believe the number of followers this little fluffy fic has garnered! Thanks so much for taking this journey with me! And please, leave me a review to tell me why you are continuing to read. I am still open to ideas for dates - this story isn't quite set in stone yet.

Draco has more than one magical adventure in store for Hermione this time around, although they will both take place in Italy.

Take The Long Way Home

"So, what do you think?" Hermione asked Draco nervously after he finally looked up from the parchment he held.

"I think it's a brilliant idea, love," he answered sincerely.

Draco woke up with a shite-eating-grin on his face and it remained plastered there all damn morning. When he couldn't wipe it off after arriving at an 8:00am Malfoy Inc board meeting, Theo's left eye began to tick. Too much overt happiness made his former dormmate tetchy. Theo avoided Draco at the end of the meeting, shooting Draco a look of disdain as the reedy man skittered out the mahogany door of the boardroom, escaping to his office.

Draco contemplated following Theo to surreptitiously show off his elated state under the guise of following up on some meeting points.

Nah, what was the point in that? He shrugged his shoulders to himself as he moved down the hallway to his own office instead. Hermione's influence definitely made him softer.

Hermione's influence also often caused more facial expression than anyone was used to seeing on Draco, but usually she was at least lying naked beside him when his day began in this state. He'd woken up alone in his flat; his girlfriend needed to spend a portion of the previous night in her office, taking an overseas conference call, then she'd gone to her own flat in the wee hours of the morning to catch a few hours of sleep.

She'd invited him to her office to make good on her promise to involve him in an idea she'd been mulling around. When he walked into her office at 11:00 that morning, his palms were a bit clammy. He couldn't, for the life of him, figure out why he was nervous.

That was utter bollocks. He knew exactly why he was nervous. What if he couldn't follow her thought process? What if she huffed that little noise she made when she realized she was going to have to dumb down an explanation… before she proceeded to slowly explain her invention to him. The blonde would be completely humiliated. He'd seen her do it enough times to others in similar situations. But never to him.

He was so fucked. Yet, there he was walking into her office, still wearing that damn grin.

The reveal of a few pieces of parchment containing arithmancy equations, runes, an incantation, and a description of wand movements, accompanied by a rough sketch, would have been anti-climactic for most. The sheets were messy, with ideas scratched out, and runes discarded, until one rune near the bottom of the first page was heavily circled along with another on the top of the second page.

'Oh, thanks the gods,' was his first thought when he made it to the fourth, and last, page. He wasn't fucked after all. He would not be so presumptuous as to declare he could follow her thought process from beginning to end, but he could understand the final version of the underlying magic behind her creation.

'Say something. Anything,' Hermione had silently willed the man before her, as the blonde flipped through the scribbled parchment. The brunette was an anxious wreck.

She felt sure the quiver in her voice when she'd asked him for his thoughts registered on the Richter Scale.

She'd nearly slumped with relief when he called it brilliant. The trust she was showing by letting him into her inner sanctum wasn't going to backfire. He wasn't being dismissive of her idea. He looked genuinely interested. He didn't look confused.

Two weeks ago, Hermione sat down at a Muggle café with George Weasley and asked him how he'd done it. How had he decided to let her in all of those years ago? She knew it wasn't a small thing to be asked to invent with him, to help him, to take up a small bit of the burden of Fred's death.

George sighed before reaching across the table to take her hand.

"You saw me. I mean you really saw me for the first time. Don't take that wrong," he pleaded as his thumb rubbed small circles on her hand as she opened her mouth to protest. "Because, I have to admit that it was the first time I really saw you, too." Hermione snapped her mouth back shut.

She stared into George's eyes, seeing how vulnerable he could still be, even eleven years later. She also saw the children they used to be, and the adults they were forced to be. Those young adults were so young, in retrospect.

"Thank you," was the only response she could formulate, and it came out sounding choked. There was a reason she'd been avoiding this conversation with him for years. Not that he'd seemed eager to engage her in it either.

His lips quirked into smile, albeit his eyes looked a little too bright, "No, thank you, love. I think Fred would consider it all a huge joke, you and I inventing together, if he was watching from the other side. But, we were good for each other. You know I miss it sometimes, being creative with you by my side. Why don't we do it anymore?"

He tilted his head to the side, watching her carefully.

The last time they collaborated was just before George married Angelina. Hermione broke eye contact, not wanting him to see the guilt. She went to withdraw her hand from his. The situation was beginning to feel inappropriate. He tightened his grip.

"We promised to always be friends, Hermione. I think we've done a fine job of it. Even with the number of times I've stuffed a foot in my mouth."

"You can't overcome what is obviously a Weasley genetic trait," she finally met his eyes again, a smirk on her lips.

He rolled his eyes in return.

He gave her hand a firm squeeze before letting go, "So, you really are letting the Ferret in?"

She shrugged. "I guess so."

George leaned back in his chair, "You've decided that you see the real Draco Malfoy then."

"I had a panic attack in front of him a little while back," she blurted out.

George gave a small start.

Hermione braved on, "I haven't had one in ages. You know I don't even keep anything around to deal with them anymore. He knew exactly what to do and talked me down from it."

Her Gryffindor courage fled, leaving the next words she wanted to say unspoken. She wanted to ask George if he still suffered from them. Did he still avoid mirrors? Did he still self-medicate? Did…

The redhead interrupted her inner thoughts, "Angie's good like that too."

Back in the present, Draco was looking around her office. "Do you have a prototype yet?" he asked, not finding one.

"No, just that lousy sketch there, showing where I think the runes need to be etched to hold the charm in place. I thought maybe we could work on it together on your yacht while we vacation?"

The utterly Hufflepuff expression of joy lit up Draco's face again. Salazar's staff, this woman really would be the death of him. She was slowly squeezing the Slytherin right out of him.

When he just stood there, all dopey, she continued speaking, "I mean, it should be obvious I'm making this for you, right? O course, I still plan to put a copyright on it and market it, but it is a fairly niche product. I want it to be perfect for you though. Everyone else is secondary."

"For Merlin's sake Hermione, stop rambling. It is brilliant. You are brilliant. Yes! I want to work on creating the first ever self-sharpening pencil case with you," Draco nearly shouted in exasperation.

He glanced again at the notes that showed a crudely drawn picture of a tin case full of sketching pencils that would automatically sharpen any pencils inside of it when the lid was closed tight, and then banish the residue.

The portkey trip to the Ministry in Monaco was uneventful. The two lovers took a cab ride down to the harbor. Draco's yacht was waiting for them, completely stocked up for the three-day trip they planned to take to Italy. At first, Draco planned an entire week on the boat, but then he realized he wanted to spend a bit of time in Italy with Hermione, so they would dock at his home on the Amalfi Coast and dismiss the crew. His personal assistant had lined up the same Italian company that took care of Blaise's yacht, and a few others for witches and wizards residing there.

The company liaisoned with the Muggle broker Hermione used to buy the yacht. The company hired a temporary crew made up of wizards and witches to take the boat on the one-way trip. They built the necessary facilities in the cove below Draco's cliff-side villa and then strengthened the anti-Muggle wards to make sure it would remain hidden. The property had been in his family for generations, so the home already had charms placed upon it, but it was recommended the ones spreading out into the sea get updated to make sure no one else would decide it a good spot to drop anchor now that it wouldn't remain empty.

The crew awaited them, masquerading as Muggles. The only actual Muggle present was the broker, to once again thank them for their business and insure they were satisfied with his service. As the yacht pulled out into the Mediterranean, Draco breathed a sigh of relief, silently thanking Merlin for his very efficient assistant and the specialists he'd found in Italy to help this go smoothly.

"After we dock, I will have to spend an hour or so with my assigned representative from the Italian yachting firm, going over changes I may want to make to vessel. They said that they can retrofit nearly anything to magical specs," Draco told Hermione after they'd retoured and reacquainted themselves with the luxury craft.

"I'll let you know if I think of anything to add to the list," she said.

"I've been thinking we should do a summer solstice ritual here on the boat on Monday. What do you think?" Draco asked Hermione over dinner that night. It was Saturday, so if she said yes, they could still have a day to plan. Not that he wanted to do anything elaborate for just the two of them. He didn't plan to include the crew. In fact, maybe he would send them ashore for a few hours…

"What would it entail? I've never taken part in one before," she said, full of curiosity. "I mean, I've read a bit about some rituals that can be done. But, I've never even talked to anyone who's participated."

Draco couldn't stop the words from spilling out of his mouth, "Add another reason to the list of why people used to call the Weasleys blood traitors. Don't they celebrate any of the old traditions?" He'd also started to sneer, but quickly wiped it back off. Bad habits and all.

Hermione took a deep breath. She really had been working on her anger management issues. She counted to twenty in her head before she opened her mouth to speak.

Draco knew he'd stepped in it. Shite.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked in a deceptively calm voice.

"Look, that came our wrong. There are many reasons behind calling someone a blood traitor. One of the least nefarious is related to cutting yourself off from old magics in favor of only celebrating Christian holidays. My parents celebrated Christmas too when I was a kid, but we never gave up strengthening our bonds on the traditional holy days. Like the summer solstice. Some families, like the Weasleys, saw those days as ways that purebloods excluded Muggleborns, or even half-bloods. So, they boycotted them in solidarity. In retrospect, it would have been smarter for them, for all of us, to start teaching more about the days and including everyone. Hindsight sure is a bitch," Draco finished.

Hermione took another deep breath and released it slowly. Her logical mind knew that Draco was absolutely correct and couldn't help but agree with him. She still wanted to lash out. Hearing the words "blood traitor" when used in a historical context should not make her feel this way. She counted to twenty again.

"I see your point. Next time, don't start out with the derisive tone. It's tough not to want to hex first and ask questions second," she told him. "Now that we've established that I really didn't have anyone to teach me, will you?"

After dropping anchor in a spot just offshore of the coast, roughly due West of Rome on Sunday afternoon, the yacht's crew made sure the couple had everything they would need for the evening and early morning, before disapparating away. They were told to return no earlier than two hours after sunrise the next day. As soon as they were gone, Hermione began to set the wards. The boat would become completely hidden from anyone at all until she removed the wards – similar to what the trio did every day they lived in that damn tent.

Draco had spent the last 24 hours giving Hermione a crash course on everything he knew regarding Summer Solstice celebrations. The location they found themselves in couldn't be more perfect. A place "in-between" worlds – a location where water, land, and sky met – was considered the most powerful place to hold a ceremony.

He outlined Hermione's role to act at the Goddess. She would be crowning Draco in his role as the Solar God. He explained the principles behind the worship of the sun, pointing out that "Father Sun" working in tandem with "Mother Nature" gave life to everything on this planet. Although these assigned gender roles muddied the waters for some who saw the rituals as being sexist, Draco explained it as a counter-balance to the many night-time, moon-driven, "female" rituals. Without taking time to create this balance, wizards began to falter on a spiritual level.

As an aside, Draco wondered if there was some sort of internal call in wizards to take to a warrior path when they weren't allowed to express their male part in spiritual ceremonies along with the women, effectively gelding the men. A soul left wanting more will fight to cling to something. That surely would explain the dearth of female Death Eaters under Voldemort.

"We will begin a fast at sunset that won't lift until after sunrise. During the darkness of night, the Goddess will make the preparations for her God. You will begin with a ritual bathing of your body, followed by bathing me once you are purified," he started out. The blonde went into greater detail so Hermione would know exactly how proceed with the cleansing.

"After I am purified, I will meditate while you arrange our worship space. You will need to construct or transfigure a raised pallet with space for air to flow all around and under it. Most of the pallet should be taken up by pure white bedding for us to "worship" upon," he really couldn't help the leer that spread across his face as he suggestively drawled the last part. Hermione's core tingled in response.

Sex Magic.

"A portion of the pallet also needs to contain an altar and firepit with kindling and sticks ready for a small sacred fire. The fire will be lit using a magnifying glass to harness the power of the sun's first rays. We will also have two crystals ready to capture the power generated by our rituals. During the darkest days of winter, you can draw the magic back out to sustain yourself," Draco finished everything he could think to tell her.

The wizard had found some of these steps were difficult to explain, as he had learned the male parts of the ritual from his father, while young witches were taught by older, experienced women. Draco's sense of curiosity meant he'd often spent more time while a young man observing the women, rather than the meditating he was supposed to be doing. He'd felt a bit guilty about it at the time. He smirked about it now, as it paid dividends.

Once all had been readied, Draco and Hermione slipped under the white sheet on the pallet together and snuggled up under the stars. She'd made a very plush bed for them, with a large feather mattress. It was nearly killing her, the anticipation of what would take place in a few hours. Until they began the ritual just before sunrise, the two of them were not allowed to exchange any bodily fluids. Even a chaste kiss could ruin everything they'd prepared.

Draco soon dozed off, the gentle rocking of the boat lulling him to sleep. Hermione followed him.

Hermione's wand alarm went off an hour before sunrise. Draco walked them point by point through the ritual again, and she made sure they were prepared.

"Ready?" she asked him, knowing that she would be in charge of the opening of the ceremony. He was already half hard. Hell yes he was ready.

Hermione began with the incantation Draco taught her.

While the final minutes of the shortest night of year ticked away, Hermione rode Draco to her completion, using him to attain an orgasm that opened up her magical core to his. She had total control over him, pulling on his magic and wrapping it around herself as the sky lightened behind her curly mane. His Goddess. It took discipline not to spill himself inside of her at the glorious sight she made, with her inner walls squeezing his cock as he could feel their magics mingling.

As the first edge of the sun broke the horizon, Draco flipped her over, taking control in his capacity as the Sun God. He fucked her deep and hard, deeper than he normally would by placing both her legs up on his shoulders, as he pulled his magic back in and called hers forth, enveloping himself in it as he worked towards his orgasm. The world narrowed down to just the two of them and nothing else. Over and over the head of his cock bumped against her cervix. The ritual called for him to come before the sun was fully risen. That wouldn't be a problem.

Draco could see Hermione's magic sparkling in her hair as he prepared to spill deep inside her. His orgasm hit him as it never had before. He pushed in as far as he could possibly go, and as the first spurt of his seed left him, he felt her body respond, her cervix opening against him to caress the tip of him, looking to pull his offering in.

"My Goddess," he moaned, staring straight into her eyes.

"My God," she responded as his magic exited his body in waves timed to his ejaculation inside of her, leaving both of their magics mingling in the air all around them.

Above her, Draco did look like a golden-haired god, with the sun creating a halo. His magic showed in his eyes and she couldn't look away from it. He'd triggered some sort of transcendent orgasm deep within her. Hermione was sure that every cell in her body was being cleansed and revitalized.

She could feel him pressed tight against her cervix as his warm cum filled her. Every other time they'd had sex, he liked to thrust his way through his orgasm, not stopping his movement until he was completely spent. Now, she could feel each pulse and each splash that accompanied it as he stayed completely still, buried to the hilt.

Later that morning, after they had completed everything, he would tell her about the feeling of her cervix rhythmically kissing the head of his cock. And then she would have to read up on cervical orgasms. But for now, she just enjoyed the feeling of complete bliss he was somehow creating.

Draco wanted nothing more than to stay buried inside his witch forever. Instead, he knew he had to pull out and complete the final steps, as was his right. He reached over to pick up the two crystals waiting on the small altar next to them. In his current role of Sun God, he could choose how much of their mingled power to take or give. He took equally from both of them and distributed the mixed magic evenly into the two receptacles.

He pulled out of the warmth of Hermione's body with deep regret and ran the two crystals along his softening member, wetting the quartz with their mixed fluids. He laid the crystals beside the fire pit, picked up the magnifying glass, and trained the device just right to catch the sun's rays and light the kindling. The fire didn't need to burn for long; the first flare acted to seal their magic in the crystals until they called upon it in the future.

He completed the ritual with the incantation that bookended Hermione's opening words.

He laid back down next to her and pulled her in tight to his side with a satisfied sigh. She echoed his sigh as she used his chest as a pillow and pulled the sheet up over them.

"Is it always like that?" Hermione chose to be the first to break the silence.

Draco laughed, his chest rumbling pleasantly beneath her cheek. "Not even close," he assured her.

They spoke in whispers, still feeling the reverence brought on by the amount of magic they'd shared and could still feel swirling around them. Draco had purposely left a small amount behind, enjoying the residual high as the power licked and strummed along their bodies.

"I love you," Hermione tipped her head up to look at him as she said it.

"And I love you," Draco replied, tilting his head enough to plant a kiss on her forehead.

"Do you think that made the difference? Love?" she couldn't help but turn the conversation academic.

"I believe so," he said. He thought back on other witches he participated with over the years. Most had been perfunctory – friends, or acquaintances even, paired up by circumstances. One year it hadn't even worked, the woman above him unable to achieve an orgasm before the sun rose. She'd been mortified. Another year, the witch chosen for him had been so much less magically powerful than him, he'd felt bad about taking any of her magic for himself.

Besides those two times, he'd had years when he was sure the ritual went off well. Both Greengrass girls made good partners. Daphne's mother requested him for her eldest the year after he returned from Japan. Draco and Astoria underwent the ritual together twice while engaged.

However, to complete it with someone with whom you shared both trust and love? Incomparable. He told her this, and they dissected it together for the next hour, until his stomach growled.

"Let's get cleaned up and scrounge up a snack before the crew tries to apparate in, ending up splinched after they're unable to find us," Draco suggested.

Hermione stretched languidly, wishing her current feeling to never end. She would swear she was still mildly orgasming, even now. Draco admired her naked body as she stood, but his dick didn't even twitch. He felt completely sated.

They each picked up a crystal, feeling the power contained within, before Draco cast an Aguamenti to insure the fire was completely out. Hermione quickly took care of everything else. Robes set on a deck chair the night before awaited them. Slipping on the cover-up and securing the sash, Hermione took down the wards just before they went below deck.

Later that afternoon, the yacht could be found creeping up on the city of Amalfi, when a small cove suddenly appeared before them. Hermione was reminded of the way 12 Grimmauld Place appeared the first time she stood outside of the Black townhouse. The crew were expecting it to happen, having already familiarized themselves with the location prior to their arrival in Monaco. The captain expertly maneuvered in. As the crew docked the boat, Hermione stared at the villa above them.

"Not bad for a shack built in the 1420's," she drawled.

"Just wait until you see the inside," he said with a smirk. He turned back to the captain, "I am going to take Miss Granger up to my home and make sure she feels settled before I return to speak with your associate." The wizard nodded and turned back to his first mate to go through their final checklist.

Draco hooked an arm around Hermione's waist and apparated her up to the portico of the small (compared to Malfoy Manor) villa. Having lived in Rome for a year, Hermione was familiar with the architectural style of Italian Renaissance houses. Draco walked her through it, and it was stunning in every way she'd imagined it would be, but the details didn't necessarily jump out at her. She oohed and ahhed appropriately.

When he walked her out to the terrace overlooking the Mediterranean, she stood still, appreciating the breath-taking view.

"Well?" he asked.

"This I could get used to," the witch admitted, lifting her chin and pivoting her head to indicate the panorama before them.

The sun glinted off the honey-colored highlights in her hair. She wore it down today, forgoing any attempt to tame it after the morning they'd spent together. Her skin had a glow brought on not only by the past three days spent basking in the sun, but also by the residual magic of the ceremony.

Hermione observed Draco observing her. He reminded her of a tiger just now. Deceptively languid, easily obscuring his power, hiding behind his stripes. The image was enforced by a gentle breeze swaying the trees on the other side of the railing, creating changing shadow patterns across his golden hair.

"Sit down and enjoy it," Draco told her. "I'll pop into the kitchen to have Chef Luka put together tea for us and bring it out to you while I go back down to the boat. Do you need anything else? Anything from your luggage? I can apparate down, grab whatever you need, and apparate right back up."

"I can apparate down myself if I need anything. Just go and get it done with so we can sit here together."

"Did you ever visit Ravello when you lived in Rome?" Draco asked her as they enjoyed an asparagus and brie omelet the next morning.

Hermione adored Chef Luka. Draco had lured the wizard away from an Italian restaurant 5 years ago to work as a full-time personal chef. He followed Draco to other residences when needed, such as this week. Otherwise, when in London, he had his own flat and floo'ed in to work. Draco's housekeeper did the same.

"I kept meaning to get there, but I never made the time. Heck, I only went home England a handful of times that year and the floo in my flat in Rome was connected directly to my parents' house. Taking time off to sightsee outside of the city itself fell by the wayside," she admitted with a bit of regret.

Hermione arrived in Rome with a long bucket list, naively thinking she would be able to accomplish two Masteries at the same time, and still see the sights. Hermione left Rome a year later with five items crossed off the extensive list. All five took place on weekends when her parents were in the country and they tore her away from her studies.

"Perfect. Let's go up there today then. I can apparate us up and we'll walk around for a few hours," he decided for them.

Hermione really had wanted to see Ravello for years now. Just like Scotland had the all-wizarding village of Hogsmeade, Italy contained Ravello. The small commune was founded just after the fall of the Roman Empire. The rise of Christianity, along with the disintegration of the protections guaranteed by a strong central government, left the wizards and witches of that time seeking a safe haven. The city quietly grew in power over the next seven centuries, with the magical folk exerting a sort of shadow rule over the coastal communities of Muggles below them. Trade in the area flourished and fortunes were made. Dynasties were born.

The start of Ravello's downfall could be traced to an intervention by the Pope in 1086. Strong bishops were assigned to the area, and the witches and wizards began to feel the strain. In 1137 there was an outright attack on the city and the population dispersed. The ones who remained behind cast a series of charms to hide Ravello, creating the hidden, uplottable city still standing today.

Hermione put on a comfortable pair of walking shoes after breakfast, made sure she had everything she needed in her purse, and her wand was safely stowed in her wrist holster. She was dressed in linen trousers and a sleeveless blouse. Her hair was pulled back in a low knot, giving her a carefree look.

Draco was wearing a pair of dragonhide hiking boots – a compliment to his khaki trousers and short sleeve cotton shirt.

The pair didn't look overly touristy, but in the small community of roughly 2500, they would undoubtable stand out. Draco disapparated them, appearing roughly five miles away from his villa at the designated spot within the village. Hermione took in the surroundings as he moved them forward.

Stunning villas galore stood around them, most from a time almost a millennium ago when wealthy upper-class noblemen thrived. Now the large old homes were often turned into flats, inhabited mostly by artisans and musicians. Some were bed and breakfasts.

Besides being a tourist attraction, the town was known worldwide as the premier place to hire a magical portrait artist. Several paintings created here adorned Malfoy Manor's walls. Family legend claimed the villa the couple just came from existed as way to be more comfortable during any extended stays necessitated by multiple sittings while a portrait was produced. Strangely enough, the Italian home did not contain a single family portrait, but rather landscapes.

And where there were artists, musicians were sure to follow. The town hosted musical events and concerts throughout the year. Even now, the sound of a guitar floated on the air. As Draco took Hermione's hand and led her down the street, she found herself staring at the surfeit of galleries, museums, cafes, and shops.

"Let's walk around the neighborhoods for a bit and work up an appetite for lunch. After lunch, we can explore the downtown," Draco urged them down a side street.

They passed statues along the jaunt, and she found heads charmed to smile, arms charmed to lift in a wave, even traditional robes carved of stone charmed to sway in the breeze. The cathedral built by Pope Victor III upon making the city the seat of the diocese still stood in the town center, as did many smaller churches scattered along side streets. Hermione watched in awe as trumpeting angels atop spires high above them turned their golden instruments towards the heavens in synchronization.

Complimenting the mountain height views of the terraced land below them, leading down to the clear blue sea, were stunning gardens, a new one at every turn.

Hermione voiced a sudden thought, "Do you think Neville has been here? He would be in heaven. I just saw a gravity-resistant tree. I thought those only grew in Nepal." She glanced to her left. "And look, there's a Tormentil. I wonder what someone could find if they were truly looking."

"The Longbottoms have an estate here. Blaise and I sometimes ran into Neville during the summers as children," Draco answered nonchalantly.

"What?" Hermione gaped in an unbecoming manner.

The wizard next to her rolled his eyes. "Really, I know it's easy to forget at times that such a graceless oaf is a member of the Sacred 28, but it shouldn't surprise you that a family as old as his has at least one or two homes outside of Britain."

"Graceless oaf? Says the man whose best friends were Crabbe and Goyle? And have you laid eyes upon Neville in the past 10 years? We can't possibly be talking about the same wizard."

Draco huffed. Of course he'd laid eyes upon Longbottom. Draco would admit (if only inside the sanctity of his head) that Neville Longbottom was fit. That wasn't the point. The point was, why was his girlfriend remarking upon it?

He turned to ask her as much and found a knowing smirk upon her face.

"Oh, so you have noticed?" she asked in a saccharine tone.

Bollocks. Ever since the incident with Charlie, she loved catching him in these sort of traps. Or maybe, he liked being caught in these sort of traps. Hard to tell.

"I'll concede that Longbottom manages to convey a certain sense of grace upon the dance floor. He is a sought-after partner at galas," Draco said with a sniff, turning his ramrod straight back on her. He proceeded down the sidewalk with a definite patrician air.

Hermione snickered.

"I can't wait to talk to Neville all about this the next time I dance with him," Hermione lilted.

Draco refused to take the bait.

That afternoon in a gallery, Hermione fell in love with sculpture done in bronze of a maiden dancing with scarves. She watched the sculpture for a few minutes, waiting for it to "reset" itself, similar to wizard photos. However, she was even more enchanted when she realized there was not a pattern.

"Extraordinary," she whispered to herself.

Draco came over to watch it with her and asked if she was going to buy it.

"I don't have any place to put something of this size," she reminded him. She had a large flat, but this deserved to be outside. "It would look absurd in my living room."

"Well, I like it. It would look perfect out at the villa in my garden." Draco nodded to himself, as if agreeing with his own statement.

Draco realized he needed to show off his garden to Hermione when the returned to the estate. He kept a small garden of potions ingredients native to the region. It didn't contain anything that wasn't also grown in a greenhouse back in Britain, but he found it calming to walk about the plants able to grow outdoors here when he visited. His mother oringinally planted the garden when he was young. He remembered the times as a child and even teenager when he'd harvested items from it to use in the small lab onsite. Draco still used the same wizard-owned business as his parents to maintain the property during the endless months it stood vacant. One of their duties was to keep the garden alive and well.

Lady's Mantle, Begonias, Niffler's Fancy, Cornflowers, Daisies, Cobra Lilies, a Boom Berries were among the items in his garden. It was a mixture of non-magical plants and magical ones. The only plant to worry about was the Cobra Lily. They were carnivorous, but seemed able to distinguish a human from prey. Usually they ignored anything larger than a mouse.

However, one had bit him as a child after he'd shook a stick at it.

Lucius heard his scream and apparated straight in. Without a word, he'd correctly assessed the situation, grabbed Draco up to disapparate inside their house, and appeared directly in front of the cupboard where they stored potions. He grabbed the correct healing potion without a second thought and opening it said, "Drink."

Draco did as his father bade. He didn't recall the interaction as cold, although to an outsider that might have been the appearance. More methodical. Lucius had stayed by Draco's side for the next hour - Narcissa was out shopping. He hadn't coddled his son. The two barely even said a word during that time, both sat and read books in the small conservatory. It was one of rare times Draco felt sure his father loved him.

After purchasing the piece, he agreed upon a time for delivery the next morning.

The second full day of their stay found them back up on the small town. This time they spent the majority of their time after lunch in a museum. Due to that area's status as a trade hub during its heyday, there were items from countries all along the coast of the Mediterranean. She saw African items along with Middle Eastern ones. The growing influence of both Christianity and Islam could be seen when looking from the oldest items to those that were relatively newer. Draco had been to the museum before, and, for Hermione's sake, tried not to act as bored as he felt.

That evening, they returned up to town to take in the sunset and small concert. As the band played, fairies flitted above them, providing the only light after the sun went down.

On the third day, Chef Luka packed them a picnic lunch and after apparating up to Ravello, they began a hike down to Amalfi. As they reached the part of the trail where the protective wards ended around the outskirts of the hidden town, Hermione felt the magic wash over her skin.

"You felt that didn't you?" Draco unnecessarily asked after seeing her little shiver. She was turning her head to look in every direction around them.

"Yes, but I don't see a difference," she told him. "I read that I wouldn't. But still, I thought it all might disappear after crossing the line. The spell to hide it from Muggles is simply amazing, you know."

Draco shrugged. His entire life up until he started purchasing Muggle flats for himself a few major cities was spent living in world hidden from Muggles. Every property his parents owned was hidden. Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley, the Ministry, and then Hogwarts were all the same. The complex spell was normal to him.

They continued their hike down, and then enjoyed some time in Amalfi before Draco pulled Hermione onto a small cobbled side street to discreetly disapparate.

On the fourth day, Draco suggested they wait until tea time to apparate into the town. They could sit outside a café and enjoy their tea while people-watching. Afterwards they stumbled upon a small impromptu musical performance in a square.

On their fifth full, and final day, they took a short trip on the yacht. The magical adaptations were complete and the crew had returned to take them out for a few hours to demonstrate it all. The most interesting to Hermione was the flag that flew atop the vessel. It was charmed to appear to belong to whatever country would be most advantageous depending on who was viewing it.

Most Muggle appliances and electronics were removed; the galley was retrofitted for food preparation using magic, the loos were reconfigured, and the laundry facilities were completely switched over.

There were two exceptions - the entertainment center filled with items charmed by Hermione's company to allow them to watch a movie or listen to music, and a muggle short-wave radio in the bridge for emergencies.

The next morning the two travelled via floo to the Italian Ministry and took a portkey to London.

A/N: Ravello is a real town on a mountain above Amalfi. I basically just added details to it in order to make it magical. And as always, I need to send some virtual love to 89JadedPictures!