Harry rested his chin on his worn duffel bag while he gazed out the window of the bus as it bumped and rattled along the dusty farm road. The Italian summer sun was streaming in through the glass and warming his face as he stared out at the landscape with interest.
At thirty-three years of age, Harry had suddenly decided that being an Auror wasn't what he actually wanted to do with the rest of his life. Hermione had called it a 'premature mid-life crisis' and he suspected she was right. Everything about his daily routine had suddenly become meaningless and mind-numbingly tedious. He spent more time signing paperwork then he did out in the field, and even when he was out in the field, the thrill of the chase or a complicated investigation couldn't hold his attention anymore; his heart just wasn't in it.
The problem was he also couldn't think of an appealing alternative. He was anxious to quit and move on, but nothing was jumping out at him.
Then one day on his lunch break, he saw a recruitment posting in The Quibbler for summer farm hands in northern Italy. The listing explained that the wizarding family who owned a large Muggle-friendly vineyard near Merano, Italy required extra help for the busy 'vendemmia' season, or grape harvest time, and were looking to take on about ten extra employees from August through to late November.
It wasn't a potential new career but it sounded like a brilliant diversion until he could sort something else out. Plus, he'd never been to Italy.
He had immediately signed up and given notice to the Ministry that same day.
Harry smiled at the colourful farms passing by outside the window; they were all so appealing and well-kept. He hoped Castello Moretti was just as pleasant; it certainly looked beautiful in all of the photographs. It was an ancient castle which had been turned into a hotel, restaurant, and full-sized vineyard and winery operation.
Harry furtively glanced around the quiet bus, trying not to attract any attention. There were about seven other people sitting on the bus from the pre-arranged pick-up location near Bergamo. There were three females and four males, all varying greatly in age. Everyone was sitting on their own except for two girls who were sitting huddled together in the back of the bus, talking quietly.
Harry quickly looked back out the window and pulled his dark blue hat down over his forehead when one of them glanced his way.
Fortunately, no one had recognised him thus far and he hoped to keep it that way for as long as possible. He really didn't want to answer questions about why he'd quit such a prestigious Ministry job in order to pick fruit.
Mostly because he really didn't have an answer to that.
The pale yellow and orange bus turned off of the main road and began to trundle up a long dusty drive towards the main house which Harry recognised from the photos. It was a castle but it was modest and consisted of a rectangular section made of stone with two small turrets off to the left side. A white and glass conservatory was added to the rear of the building many years after the castle was originally constructed and which now housed the small but elegant dining area. The guest rooms were all located in the right-hand side of the castle and Harry knew that there was a secondary building behind the rear garden that contained the staff quarters.
The bus drew up to the left side of the castle and groaned to a stop in the shadow of the front turret.
Harry gathered his things and piled out of the bus along with the others, the heat of the day hitting him the moment he stepped out onto the gravel drive. It wouldn't be long before his green t-shirt would be sticking to his skin. The cool air of the bus had made him forget about the oppressive summer heat on the outside. He had a sudden flash of uncertainty about picking fruit all day in these sorts of conditions.
"Benvenuti al Castello Moretti."
Harry turned at the sound of the smooth male voice - and gaped in shock.
"What the…?" he whispered under his breath, watching as Draco Malfoy walked towards the small group in charcoal grey trousers and a white button-up shirt. His hair was light brown instead of platinum blond, and he looked a lot older than the last time Harry had set eyes on him at the Death Eater trials, but there was no mistaking that the tall man approaching them was Malfoy.
Harry quickly stepped behind the older gentleman next to him, trying to hide from Malfoy's roving gaze. He tipped his chin down and hid his face beneath the long brim of his hat.
"I'm afraid that's nearly the extent of my Italian," Malfoy continued, sounding so confident and relaxed that it nearly made Harry doubt the Slytherin's true identity. "Welcome to Castello Moretti. I am Damien Moretti."
Harry frowned and peeked out from under his brim. No you're not, he wanted to say.
The group all smiled at Malfoy as though he was some sort of normal, friendly bloke and Harry's frown deepened; nettled by Malfoy's act.
He could tell these people a thing or two about the real Draco Malfoy – or Damien Moretti, whatever he was going by now. Malfoy hadn't deserved to go to Azkaban after the war but he wasn't nice. Harry's broken nose could attest to that.
Harry peeked up at the others and he could tell straight away that they didn't recognise Malfoy. He supposed it had been about fifteen years since Lucius Malfoy's son had last been mentioned in the papers, and without the trademark blond hair or superior sneer…
Harry shook his head and tried to focus on what the prat was saying.
"… long journey, so we have dinner prepared for you in the staff dining hall. I'll show you to your rooms where you may leave your things and then return to the dining area. I will be eating with you tonight to answer any questions you may have about Castello Moretti and to remind you of some of our rules. You must be famished so I won't delay you a moment longer."
Harry narrowed his eyes as Malfoy turned to stride officiously towards the rear garden.
Harry trailed after the others, dragging his feet in order to remain concealed behind the rest of the group. He didn't know why he was bothering, Malfoy was going to spot him at some point. He just needed time to adjust to the shock of seeing his old nemesis living in Italy with a fake name and running a bloody vineyard of all things. Malfoy still had that slightly haughty look to him and posh accent, but his tone and his expression were so untroubled and easy. He was distinctly self-assured and poised, so different to the snivelling wanker he'd been at school.
Harry scowled at the two girls ahead of him when they suddenly burst into giggles while gazing appreciatively at Malfoy's backside in his perfectly tailored trousers.
That was the other thing that was bothering him; the wanker had also grown quite handsome. His features were now refined rather than pointy, and his body was tall and lean with just the right amount of muscle.
Horrified by the disturbing direction of his thoughts, Harry swiftly wrenched his gaze away from Malfoy's arse and looked around at his surroundings instead as the small group made their way across the lush expanse of green grass. The area was bordered by large, vibrant garden beds on all sides. Harry glanced over his shoulder at the castle behind them and recognised the pretty conservatory from the photographs. It looked quite intimate in person and appeared to hold about twenty small dining tables.
Harry turned back around as they approached the staff accommodation. It was a simple stone building with white paned windows and a tall hedge surrounding it on three sides, presumably to give the workers some privacy from the paying guests. Beyond the building Harry could see acres and acres of what he assumed were grape plants in long neat rows across the hilly countryside.
It wasn't a huge operation but it was big enough, and Harry could grudgingly admit that it was all well-maintained and very beautiful.
It probably would have been an enjoyable experience if not for Malfoy's presence.
Harry walked through the black painted door behind the others and followed them across the main room, which consisted of a kitchen, lounge, and dining area. The long wooden dining table was already laid out with a delicious smelling meal.
Malfoy led the group through the spacious room to a wide doorway on the other side.
Through the doorway was a long hallway with about a dozen doors. Each door was painted a different colour and had a name plaque fixed to the centre of it.
Malfoy turned around and Harry quickly ducked behind the tall man with the dark hair beside him.
"Choose any room that does not currently have a name on it," he instructed, waving an arm towards the colourful doors. "If you are here with friends or family and wish to share a room, there are only two rooms still available with more than one bed."
One of the two giggly girls raised her hand. "We'd like to share a room please!" she said, clearly concerned that they might miss out.
Malfoy pointed to the yellow door down the corridor and the two girls grinned and dashed off to their new home.
The rest of the group then began to slowly drift towards the remaining doors and Harry felt his stomach twist uncomfortably as he lost his only form of cover.
With a sigh of resignation, Harry shifted his duffel bag up higher on his shoulder and walked towards the blue door that was on the other side of Malfoy, thinking that he might as well get it over with.
Malfoy aimed a vague smile in his direction as he approached and Harry could see the instant that Malfoy recognised him; his face went sort of slack and his skin paled as grey eyes widened in shock. He looked truly panicked for all of three seconds and then his professional demeanour slid back into place.
"Welcome," Malfoy said to him, his tone containing only the slightest of steely edges to it. "I'll help you to your room."
Harry nearly snorted, finding the situation amusing now that Malfoy was the one who was caught by surprise.
Malfoy followed him through the blue painted door and then shut it behind them.
Malfoy faced him and crossed his arms over his chest as Harry tossed his bag onto the bed and waited for the explosion.
"Potter."
"Moretti." Harry smirked.
Malfoy's eyes narrowed, clearly not amused. "It's not a crime to change your name."
"I never said it was."
"Then why are you here?"
Harry frowned in bemusement. "What do you mean? I'm here to pick grapes."
Malfoy's eyes flared. "Don't give me that Potter, I know you're an Auror, you're not here to pick fucking grapes."
Harry removed his hat with a sigh and ruffled a hand through his flattened hair. "Actually, I am here to pick grapes. I had no idea you'd be here."
"So you're just on a little holiday from the Ministry then?" Malfoy asked scornfully.
"No I quit."
Malfoy opened his mouth and then closed it again as the sound of the others wandering out of their rooms towards the dining hall reached them.
They stared at each other in silence, and then, for some inexplicable reason, Harry suddenly felt sorry for him. What if Malfoy really had changed and was trying to make a new life for himself here. Harry had been the one to secure his freedom during the Death Eater trials after all, so he must believe there's good in Malfoy somewhere. Deep down.
"I won't tell anyone who you are," Harry finally offered charitably.
Malfoy gave him a frown that was equal parts annoyed and confused. He turned away and opened the door, leaving without another word.
Harry rolled his eyes and tossed his hat onto the bed with a sigh. It was going to be a looooong four months.