Chapter 3: Where All Roads Lead

All of a sudden, just like last summer when he realized he fancied someone for the first time, Draco felt like the entire world had changed. Was this love, or was he just being dramatic? Draco had no problem saying that he loved all his friends, so what was so different about saying he was in love with one of them?

Maybe Draco needed to be sure, although he couldn't say why he needed to wait to know. He felt like he was dying as a result of all this uncertainty, and like his skin vibrated from how strongly it craved some sort of contact. God, this was awful. This could be incredible, if only Draco could make it work.

He paid close attention to Blaise, to try and see where his mind was on this. Everything seemed innocent. Draco and Blaise hung out—because they were friends. They ate dinner together—because they were friends. They went for a walk afterward and watched the sunset together—because they were friends.

The next day didn't go any differently. Feeling rather frustrated the day after that, Draco excused himself at the start of riposo under pretence of going for a kip. He hesitated in the guest house's foyer. Mum and Father's shoes were here. They'd left for Milano to tour before Draco even woke up that morning, and he hadn't expected to see them back until closer to dinner.

Draco froze on the way to his room. He'd heard a noise from behind his parents' closed door, followed by a—

Face screwed up, Draco made an about-turn on his heel for the exit.

"Ugh," he whispered to himself as he slipped his sandals back on. "Nasty."

Free of that nonsense, Draco wasn't sure where else to go. He didn't want to wake Blaise up, and the whole point of feigning need for sleep had been freedom to languish in his pining. Draco supposed he didn't need to be laid up in bed to do that. He could just so easily brood in one of the garden hammocks.

Draco was getting on well with that—arms folded behind his head and eyes closed—when he heard the quiet slap of sandals on the walkway. They stopped not far from Draco. He expected Blaise, but blinked instead at Aurora.

"Hello," she said in a deliberate way, smiling.

"Hi."

It wasn't lost on Draco that that was the first English word she'd ever said to him. Aurora took a few steps closer and held up the green book she carried. It said Italiano-Inglese on the cover.

"We can talk?" she asked.

"Er. . .okay."

Aurora flashed a grin before giving Draco room to clamber out of the hammock. They sat on a bench in an isolated part of the garden. Aurora pulled a piece of parchment out of the dictionary, unfolded it, and cleared her throat. "Blaise has wanted you for a very long time."

She looked up at Draco. Whatever his outward reaction had been as an entire colony of butterflies erupted in his stomach satisfied Aurora. Her note was longer yet. God, she'd spent time preparing a statement.

"I notice how you look at him," Aurora spoke with a little more confidence. "I think you want him too. He tell me what happened at the party."

Draco furrowed his brow, but his face went hot when he took her meaning: the winter solstice gala.

"You kiss, but he had make a previous mistake." Aurora crossed her legs. "Being an idiot to you."

"We've discussed it—" Draco stopped as Aurora held the dictionary out to him. "Er, thanks. Grazie."

Flipping around in the pages and trying to find what he wanted to say, Draco understood why Aurora had written things down. It took stupidly long to come up with an approximation of 'We discussed it' in Italian.

Aurora took the dictionary back. It made Draco feel better that she took about as long to formulate her next response. "But you want him now?"

"Sì."

Aurora grinned, increasing the heat under Draco's cheeks, and went back to flipping around through the dictionary. "It is painful to watch."

Draco held a hand out for the dictionary so that he could ask, "He wants me now?"

Aurora gave Draco a dry look before seeking what she wanted to say. "He have not ever shut up about you. Draco this. Draco that."

Draco laughed, although was serious by the time he'd formulated his response of, "I'm nervous to ruin us."

"You are nervous? You say no at the party. How nervous do you think is Blaise now?"

"I mean to do something," Draco said in botched Italian after another perusal of the dictionary. "I'll figure it out."

They couldn't speak much longer for fear of being found by Blaise and forced to explain why they were huddled conspiratorially in the garden. Draco asked Aurora to not tell Blaise anything, but he wasn't certain she would keep her word. No doubt Blaise had begged her not to intervene, and yet here she was.

Draco decided it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if she did. It definitely put some pressure on Draco to sort this out sooner than later, but at least Blaise could shift his expectations from if to when. It wouldn't catch him by surprise. It might even save Draco some of the work.

Still, Draco thought it would be foolish to expect that everything would work out as soon as he bat his eyelashes at Blaise a certain way. There remained a week before Draco went home, where things could be incredibly awkward if Blaise wasn't receptive.

Or it could be a week with your boyfriend, Draco kept telling himself, to stomach flutters that couldn't settle on nervous or excited.

Draco paid close attention to Blaise for the rest of the day, to see any potential signs that Aurora had been whispering in his ear. Blaise didn't act any differently, although a couple of things happened over the next few days that at least seemed to open a window of opportunity.

Dante was turning eighteen on Saturday, which meant he would be throwing a party. Draco needed to bring a gift. He took this information to Mum and Father so that he could ask for some money and permission to leave the village to go shopping.

Father hummed. "Well, we could leave a little earlier for Rome than we planned. You could find a gift there, and then we could send you back before we carry on."

"That's the day you were going there?"

"The sixth," Mum confirmed. "We can trust that you'll be able to find your way back to the guest house on your own after the party?"

Draco rocked on his feet to try and hide his nerves, while also using the motion to burn off a little excess energy. "I'll stick close to Blaise, and I'll leave whenever he does."

"All right." Father squeezed Draco's shoulder. "You could ask Blaise if he wants to come to Rome to shop for his gift, as well."

Draco brought it up the next time he saw Blaise.

"They're making a day trip?" Blaise asked. "There's a bit too much to see in Rome, for that."

"They're staying the night there," Draco said. "It's their anniversary."

Blaise agreed to the jaunt into Rome, which made Saturday loom all the more like a colossus. Draco's parents would be gone. He had the guest house to himself. Draco would be going to a party where everyone would be paying little to no attention to him and Blaise. Every time Draco thought about what he ideally wanted out of the evening, the tingling of his skin would get so out of hand that he started to tremble.

Come Saturday morning, Draco accompanied Mum and Father into the main house so that they could all Floo to Rome. Blaise grinned when they spotted each other.

"Hi," Blaise greeted him slightly breathlessly before turning his attention to Mum and Father. "Good morning."

"Good morning," Mum warmly replied. "Are you ready to go?"

"Mhm." Blaise's pocket clinked with some coin.

They headed off then, coming out of the fireplace in what looked like the lobby of Gringotts. There were no goblins, but white marble, columns, and wickets gave off the feel of a bank. Draco got into a queue with Mum, Father, and Blaise. The workers all wore multiple pins of flags on their robes. One of the flag pins on the worker Father spoke to was the Union Jack, which, sure enough, indicated her as an English speaker. She asked Father for their purpose of visit and all of that, which Father had already filled some paperwork out for, and the whole thing sort of went over Draco's head until they were directed to one of the wickets that had a sign saying Monetæ Commutatio over it.

"Why's it so much work to get into Rome?" Draco asked while watching the wicket workers exchange currency.

"Rome is a city-state," Father told him. "In the magical world, anyway."

"It's separate from Italy," Blaise said. "On it's own still, from the old days."

Draco supposed then that the white robes worn by all the workers were actually togas. Security, with their red capes and leather breastplates, looked ready to step into the Colosseum to see about a lion. The Colosseum itself was visible through one of the windows.

No wonder Blaise had been confused about Mum and Father only planning to spend one night in Rome. Draco felt overwhelmed by the mere sliver of it he'd seen by the time they'd exchanged British Galleons for Roman Aurei and had stepped out onto the clean, white street.

Since Dante played Quidditch, Draco felt it natural to gravitate toward a sporting goods shop for a potential gift. There was a lot of stuff that Draco didn't recognize beyond the Quidditch aisle. He came to a stop, Blaise slowing with him, at a display of harpastum balls. Father had told the woman who asked their purpose of visit that he and Mum had tickets for a game that evening, but Draco had never heard of it before.

"It's simple, but violent," Blaise told Draco. "We aren't allowed to play it at the village, and you're not even allowed into the matches to watch if you're under sixteen."

"Oh, really?"

"Anything goes, spare wands," Blaise said. "You need to get the ball over the line. You can punch, kick, bite—whatever you have to, to win. It's considered a boring match if any players are left standing. 'Course, they have Healers at the ready, but leaving the field for care is disqualification."

Draco bumped their shoulders, smirking. "For someone who's not seen a match, you know a lot about it."

"The older village kids have told me about it." Blaise turned so that he leaned against the shelf. "It's sort of a tradition to go to one after turning sixteen. You know, just because you can, and all."

"Are you going to go to one?"

"Probably." Blaise returned Draco's smirk as they lingered close to each other. "If Mamma will let me."

"I wonder if my parents would let me," Draco mused.

"If you happen to come to Italy summer after next, we could always sneak down here to one."

"Sneak into Rome?" Draco scoffed a little. "It doesn't seem so easy."

"So long as we don't say we're here to kill the Emperor, we ought to be fine."

We. Draco's stomach fluttered to think about that in any context. He gravitated a little closer. "Then I see no reason not to do it."

Blaise grew more serious. As they held eye contact, Draco suspected he wasn't the only one resisting looking at the other boy's mouth with all of his might.

"I could wait for you," Blaise replied, voice quiet and deliberate. "We could go together for the first time."

Draco had a feeling they were having two conversations now. "That's a long wait from November."

"It's not that bad," Blaise said. "We'd get there in the end."

They were definitely talking about two things. Well, maybe they weren't really talking about harpastum at all anymore. It felt less like a risk and more an exhilaration when Draco wrapped his fingers around Blaise's. He still held his breath, but that left him like a slow sigh when Blaise squeezed back. Their thumbs touched each other, and Blaise glanced at Draco's mouth.

"Boys?" Mum said from behind Draco, over at the end of the aisle. "Are you having any luck?"

Since Draco and Blaise's hands were obscured by Draco's body, he didn't bother to let go as he looked back over his shoulder. "We're working on it."

"All right."

Mum disappeared, and Draco returned his attention to Blaise. A little smile had crept up, which widened when Draco returned it.

Blaise sighed through his nose. "I suppose your parents want to get going on whatever they planned for today."

"Yeah," Draco agreed. "I've still no idea what to get Dante, though."

"Let's keep looking."

Blaise squeezed his hand before letting go. Draco couldn't believe it was possible to feel even more restless. There seemed something extra—something secret and thrilling—to their gazes meeting. It even felt different to wander around the shop and ask the other their opinion about this or that.

"What about these?" Draco asked, picking up a pair of something called Omnioculi. "They would come in handy at the World Cup."

"Four and a half Aurei, though," Blaise replied. "What's that, about seven Galleons?"

"I suppose it's a bit pricey for a gift." Draco put them up to his eyes so he could look through them. "Unless you want to go in half with me?"

"That's more reasonable."

There was another us. Draco and Blaise would be presenting the Omnioculi to Dante together. However giddy that made Draco as Mum and Father escorted him and Blaise back to the customs building, he started to get nervous too. What would happen once Draco and Blaise were back in Nuovo Nora?

Draco emerged from the fireplace at the villa to find a sullen Blaise. Mrs Zabini was just leaving the room.

"I'd promised to help for tonight," Blaise told him. "'Abay wants me in the kitchen once we've wrapped our gift."

We and our, Draco couldn't help but think. "I'll help too, if your 'abay doesn't mind."

"I don't see why she would."

There were others wrapping gifts, so there went the idea that Draco might get Blaise alone. The two of them went to the kitchen afterward, where Blaise's 'abay wanted his help to make tiramisu for Dante's party. Blaise walked Draco through his usual parts of it. They put together several pans worth, and then took them to be chilled in the downstairs ice pantry.

Draco thought maybe then they could be alone. Before either of them could open their mouths to say anything, Mrs Zabini called for Blaise, and from there it felt like the entire day slipped away. No matter where Draco went with Blaise, there was someone else. Close to sunset, Draco and Blaise were finally on their lonesome. However. . .

"I need a shower." Blaise wiped his shining forehead with the back of his hand. "We'll meet back up here at ten and head over?"

"Okay."

That gave Draco plenty of time to go overboard in cleaning himself up, debating what to wear, and then just fretting in general about what the night held in store. He would be sticking close to Blaise—that much still remained true—but now he needed to sort out what exactly would be expected after the moment they'd had in Rome.

This is going to happen. Those words followed Draco when he left the guest house at five minutes to ten. He found Blaise in the front courtyard, leaned against the brick archway. That he'd dressed for a party—that both of them had—made this feel so much like a date. Draco started to sweat, even though the evening had cooled. He wished he'd worn something loose and breathable, like the white linen shirt Blaise had on. A waistcoat suddenly seemed like such a stupid decision.

The quick downward dart of Blaise's gaze made it worth it, at least. He smiled when Draco approached, and gestured with their gift toward the gates. "Ready?"

Draco nodded, tongue-tied.

They joined a migration in the lane, foot traffic of all ages flowing toward the Mezzanotti villa. All around Draco and Blaise, anticipation for the night's festivities turned people more touchy than usual. It seemed like everyone was holding hands or walking with their arms linked together. A few friends kissed each other on the cheeks as they met up.

"Ah!" Dante exclaimed when he spotted the crowd Draco ended up in. "Ciao, ciao, benvenuti!"

That came with kisses to each cheek and a warm pat on the back. Past the gate, Draco attached himself more firmly to Blaise's side. They found where to set their gift down. Draco couldn't help but make a low groan when he spotted the spread of food.

Blaise snorted. "Hungry?"

"Starving, honestly."

"Me too."

They each grabbed a plate to fill. Some familiar faces collected them afterward, and the group they fell into introduced Draco to more people. They all told embarrassing stories about Dante, Blaise translating for Draco. It felt purposeful that Blaise kept lowering his voice. Draco shivered one time when Blaise's breath hit the shell of his ear, his own laughter turning breathy as result.

On one of the rounds back to the food, Draco saw that 'Abay's tiramisu had been cut into. He tapped Blaise's arm to get his attention before heading toward it. "All right, you've been talking this up for years. I have to try it."

"I'm actually nervous," Blaise said, hand on his cheek.

Draco held his plate up. "Did you want a bite first? To see if it's up to standard?"

Blaise gave him an owlish look. "Of course it's up to standard!"

"Then why are you nervous?" Draco wiggled his plate under Blaise's nose, which made the dessert move with it. "Have a bite with me anyway."

"I'm nervous because. . ." Blaise trailed off while taking a forkful. "Well, I care about your opinion, obviously."

"If your 'abay can't do wrong, then I suppose you're waiting to find out if I have good taste," Draco mused. "You'd have some thinking to do if I didn't like her tiramisu."

Blaise's gaze dropped to the bit Draco had taken off with his fork. "Go on, then."

Draco did, and couldn't much help but melt a bit at the soft texture and explosion of flavour that filled his mouth. His face must have said it all, because Blaise grinned.

"I told you," he said.

"You did."

They ate together mostly in quiet, leaned against the wall with their shoulders pressed. More people danced than socialized now.

Draco leaned his head toward Blaise, nearly close enough to have rested it on him. "Do you like to dance?"

"It's all right." Blaise shrugged. "It's fun if you like who you're dancing with."

"Want to?"

"Yeah." Blaise's voice had a small rasp to it that Draco doubted he would have caught, were there one more inch of space between them. "Sure."

Draco held out his free hand. He wished he'd thought to wipe it free of sweat first, but it was too late. He wasn't the only one nervous anyway, by the feel of it. He turned to face Blaise, and they had a bit of a laugh as both tried to hold their hands with their palms facing upward.

"Would you rather lead or follow?" Draco asked.

Blaise hummed, eyes quickly darting to Draco's mouth. "I've only ever lead."

"All right." Draco rested his hands palm down in Blaise's. "Lead me, then."

Draco had only ever lead too, which meant he and Blaise spent a good chunk of time watching their feet to make sure they didn't step on each other. Every time it seemed like Draco and Blaise might be finished laughing at themselves, one of them would narrowly miss the other's foot, the other would let out a small exclamation in warning, and then they would snort right back into it.

Blaise was pulling Draco in from a backward step when the song playing ended. Still laughing, Draco followed the momentum into Blaise's arms. He fit so nicely in a hug, as did Blaise. Draco turned his face into Blaise's neck and drew a slow inhale. He melted a little when Blaise nuzzled him with his cheek.

"Was that enough for you," Blaise spoke near Draco's ear, "or did you want to keep going?"

"Let's keep on." Draco lifted his head. "Like this, though."

Blaise glanced at Draco's mouth. "Like this?"

"Yeah, like. . ."

Draco shifted more to the left, his forearm coming to rest across the back of Blaise's shoulders. He sought out Blaise's hand with his right. With Blaise's free hand on the small of his back, Draco ended up so close to Blaise that their noses almost touched.

Blaise let out a short, airy laugh. "D'you think we could manage this without stepping all over each other?"

"Just keep your right foot between both of mine, and you shouldn't have the chance."

Blaise gave Draco a gentle nudge to start him moving backward. Draco had to pay close attention to Blaise's body after the first few steps, to make sure he followed. After long enough, Draco adjusted well enough to Blaise's specific style that he could allow technique to drift away from the front of his mind. Instead, he focused on how warm Blaise's body was, how close they were, and how neither of them seemed capable of breaking eye contact. Blaise's leg occasionally brushed against Draco's inner thighs.

The song ended. Draco and Blaise lingered close, and then Draco backed out of their embrace. Their fingers remained hooked.

"You're very good at that," Draco said.

"I'm sort of amazed I didn't trod your feet, to be honest."

Draco ran his thumbs over the backs of Blaise's fingers. "Maybe we just go well together."

Blaise's throat bobbed, and he glanced at Draco's mouth again. When he replied, Draco barely heard him for his lacking volume. "Yeah, maybe."

"I could do with a break." Draco was suddenly aware of how hot he was. "What about you?"

Blaise nodded, so they let go of each other and headed through the house to the balcony. The breeze was stronger on the lake side of the building.

Draco rested the small of his back against the balustrade in a lean. Tongue poked briefly out, he undid the top buttons of his shirt. "I'm really regretting wearing this waistcoat. Layers—what was I thinking?"

"It was probably fine until we'd worked up a sweat?" Blaise asked as he settled beside Draco.

"Yes." Draco flapped a hand at his face.

Blaise regarded Draco thoughtfully.

"What?" Draco asked after a moment.

"I mean. . ." Blaise lifted his shoulders, letting them fall in a casual shrug. "We've given Dante his gift. We've told him Happy Birthday. We've ate, made our appearance, and all that."

Draco's heart picked up. "True."

"We could leave."

Draco's internal temperature seemed to coalesce and focus behind his navel. Tongue-tied, he nodded.

The lane was busy with others who had spilled out of the party. Mostly it was younger kids, screaming and running around as they played. Draco and Blaise kept to the side, and then stepped off onto a footpath that would take them on a straighter route to the villa.

There were no lamps on it, and the sun had fully departed. Draco's eyes adjusted well enough to see Blaise's white shirt ahead of him. He used the sleeve as guide to find Blaise's hand. After a small fumble, their fingers ended up entwined. Like when they'd danced, it seemed as though Draco's feet could do no wrong so long as he paid attention to how Blaise moved.

This path led past the guest house. A lit lamp hung on the porch. Blaise slowed, and Draco brought them to a stop.

My parents aren't here, Draco thought to himself, but he couldn't get the words to travel to his tongue. He wanted to say them so badly, as well as everything they inferred: come inside, be with me, stay the night. . .

They faced each other. Draco took both of Blaise's hands to guide them to his hips. Their torsos pressed, their breath pooled together, and then Draco's eyelids fluttered shut when their mouths found each other in a kiss.

Blaise was so, so gentle. Careful. Uncertain, maybe? Draco touched the side of Blaise's neck to try and help with that. The kiss broke. Draco stayed close, studying Blaise while cupping his cheek. Blaise's gaze softened, and some weight came into Draco's hand as Blaise turned his face in a nuzzle.

"God, Blaise," Draco more breathed than spoke before kissing him again.

Draco had almost forgotten how much he loved snogging. His skin practically sang from all the contact, which only grew as Blaise's arms tightened around his middle. Draco wrapped his around Blaise's shoulders in response, gently nibbling his bottom lip. Blaise let out a shuddered exhale, and Draco was forced to remember that he had a lot more experience with this than Blaise did.

He opened his mouth in attempt at guidance. Everything went a little deeper, and Blaise nearly buckled when their tongues touched. A groan from him felt purely electric in the way it vibrated through Draco's mouth—

A shriek came from nearby. Rather suddenly, Draco was tripping as Blaise pulled him through a gap in the shrubbery. They stood there silently, backlit by the porch lamp.

Animated voices and more shrill laughter came from further up the path they'd walked. The sound of footsteps followed, and then whoever it was passed by. Draco peered through the stair railing. It was Aurora and a few of her friends.

Draco heaved a sigh when the sound of them faded off. "That was really close."

"We would have never lived it down," Blaise said. "It was pure survival instinct to hide."

Draco snorted, leaning toward Blaise as the two of them quietly laughed. When that tapered off, Draco's grin returned. He backed Blaise up against the porch.

They were quickly back to snogging. Blaise was a quick learner, although gave a noticeable shiver any time Draco used his teeth. He was particularly weak to Draco pulling on his bottom lip, and Draco knew what it meant when Blaise started trying to angle his hips away.

Blaise had no reason to be embarrassed, as far as Draco reckoned. Draco held Blaise fast, pressing closer so that he would be able to tell he wasn't the only one. A jolt went through Blaise. Draco took the opportunity to fasten his mouth to Blaise's neck instead. He slipped his fingertips into the waistline of Blaise's shorts.

Blaise inhaled through his teeth. "Draco. . ."

His name spoken like that went like lightning down Draco's spine. Feeling particularly bold, Draco ended a run of his tongue up Blaise's neck with a nibble at his earlobe. At the same time, he moved a hand down over what poked him. Blaise let out a noise that was half-gasp, bucked into Draco's touch, and then went very still.

Just as Draco registered that, he was pushed away. His centre of gravity was off from how heavily he leaned on Blaise, but he managed to catch himself on the stair railing.

Blaise's eyes had gone wide. His shoulders rose and fell in time with his breath.

Draco's indignation to have been shoved wilted. "Too much?"

"Erm. . .yeah."

Silence filled the air between them, tainting it awkward.

"You seemed like you wanted it," Draco said in his defence. "Sorry."

Blaise pushed off from the wall. "Good night?"

Draco nodded, a lump rising in his throat. Blaise pressing a chaste kiss to Draco's cheek was probably the only thing that staved off the possibility he might cry, but it didn't totally erase how hollow and disappointed Draco felt to watch Blaise's back disappear down the footpath.