What Happens in Italy...

Part Two

Ginny ate a quiet dinner with Gwen and John on the roof terrace. She was not in the mood for much talking and it seemed that neither were they. She looked out across the city and felt, well, just as disconcerted as she would have in any other city. It had to be due to all the stress of covering her first major tournament that was making her feel so conflicted and antsy and regretful and excited. Definitely the excitement of the Quidditch World Cup. Not Malfoy - or anyone really. It wasn't as though the cause of these emotions could be traced back to once specific source. There hadn't been a single failure to grasp currency, a dancer, a hand on her hip, a squint in the sunlight or a single set of lips brushing against hers that made her feel this way. It was all Quidditch, and work, and the magic of Rome. It was not Malfoy. Except for of course that it was, and she was having an increasingly hard time denying it to herself, never mind anyone else. Luckily, since Daphne had gone home, there wasn't really anyone else to notice.

She hated feeling so out of sorts; especially having felt like the world was at her feet on her arrival in Rome. Since seeing Malfoy again everything had seemed to shift in focus. The past, only very recently put behind her, had been dredged up again, except now it looked very different. It - or rather he - made Ginny look at things differently. Suddenly, she didn't feel as if she was flying quite so high, yet at the same time everything around her seemed to hold promise.

After dinner, Gwen went off to hunt down an interview (apparently she just couldn't stop working), whilst John retreated to his room to get in touch with his family. Ginny remained on the roof, smoking, drinking, and drumming her fingers distractedly on the table.

'You know, some people might find that sound annoying,' said Malfoy. Ginny turned from the view to see him standing by her table looking amused.

'Where did you come from?' she asked before taking another drag.

'All sorts of horrible places,' he replied, and sat down opposite her.

'Please, Malfoy, do have a seat.'

'You looked like you were in your own world a minute ago. What brought that on?' The look in his eyes told her that he knew exactly what might have made Ginny so thoughtful. It infuriated her because the fact that he was mentioning it at all, after having apologised profusely for their all too extensive kiss, confused her more than ever.

'I was trying to remember the opening lines of "Babbitty Rabbitty and the Cackling Stump". Couldn't quite place them.'

'The runes or the translation?'

'The, erm, runes,' Ginny said, hoping this would shut him the hell up.

'Oh, well, I can definitely help you with that. My copy is just downstairs.'

'It is not.'

'Of course it is: would I lie to you?' Her face must have betrayed her thoughts at this point, judging by his response: 'Okay, fair point. So I don't have a copy of Bubbity Wubbity.'

'What are you doing this evening?' asked Ginny, and she threw back the remainder of her glass of wine.

'At the moment, I'm talking to a beautiful girl - what? I am!' he exclaimed at her scornful look, '- after that, well I thought I'd see where the night takes me.'

'I was going to ask you if you wanted to talk a walk through the forum, you know, see it by night. But if you're going to just continually mess with me then maybe I'll be better off alone.'

'As much as I like the idea of messing with you, Weasley, I'll behave. A walk would be nice. Much better than sitting alone in my room counting the hours until the next match, and things.'

'And things?'

'I told you I was here on business too.'

'Right.' She nodded, mock sincere. 'I almost forgot about that, what with the total lack of actual work going on.'

'I don't see you writing every single article that you write, but apparently you do write them else you wouldn't be sitting here. So - you'll see, when I'm ready to reveal it, you'll see.'

'Oh, you are a tease, Malfoy. I hope you know that.'

'I revel in it.' He grinned. 'Shall we go?'

'Let's.'

The forum was a very different place at night to how it had appeared during the day. It was crowded during the day, filled with tourists, whilst at night it was quieter, though people still roamed between the ruins. The stone was bathed in orange and blue lights. It all felt so staged and yet strangely enticing to Ginny that she was immediately glad she had decided to take a walk there that night, though not so glad that Malfoy was her companion. Her feelings on that changed swiftly enough, though. He seemed just as pensive as she was as they meandered through the ruins.

'I like this one even better now,' he said, as they passed under the Arch of Septimus Severus.

'Me too - I think. It's sort of eerie: foreboding, almost.' She turned around, as if to check if someone was watching her.

'I think you have a case of paranoia, Weasley,' said Malfoy, with a smirk.

'I suspect you're right.'

They settled themselves on a stretch of grass that bridged the gap between the Forum and Palantine Hill. Ginny could see the Colosseum in the mid-distance; her stomach lurched slightly at the memories it evoked. The traffic was fairly loud and yet somehow distant. She felt trapped between the two worlds that were around her, and then the added magical world within the two of those.

After sitting in silence, gazing out at their surroundings for a while, Malfoy turned to her, seemed as though he was about to say something, then promptly turned away again.

'What?' she asked.

'Nothing.'

'Okay.'

She waited, and soon enough he turned back to her again. He was tugging pieces of grass with his right hand.

'Did you tell Potter about us?'

'I did,' she said, with a nod. 'But not until about a year ago. Long after we broke up - I thought we were back to being friends and, well, at that point I was very wrong.'

Malfoy laughed, and Ginny couldn't help but smile at him. It was a stupid victory, but she supposed a necessary one.

'How much did you tell him?'

'Just that we kissed. I couldn't really get much further than that.'

'Too painful was it?'

She rolled her eyes and dismissed him with a hand. 'No - it's just Harry went all weird and then left.' She sighed. 'I don't know, it was all very messed up.'

'But you made the right choice? You still think so, even now? You wouldn't go back to see what would have happened if you had thrown caution to the wind and done it all differently?'

'Yes, I did, and no I wouldn't. It was the right choice for that time and place. I had been doolally over Harry since, well, always; if I hadn't pursued it, given it a chance and watched it fall apart then I would be a different person.' She paused, aware of the fire she was marching straight into, but unable to stop herself. 'I most certainly wouldn't be sitting here, with you. Would I?'

'No, I don't suppose that you would.' He shifted slightly so that he was sitting closer to her, and grasped her left hand in his right one. The motion seemed to come to him as natural as breathing, but Ginny felt flushed all of a sudden; her heart began to race in that familiar way it did whenever he touched her. 'You know, I didn't realise it until the last week, but I've really missed our stupid talks, Weasley.'

'Same here. Although lately they've been a lot more serious than they used to be.'

'We have to work on that.' His voice was throaty, almost like he couldn't quite get the words out. His thumb was brushing lightly along the back of her hand. They sat for a while, like this, until Ginny became more comfortable under the feeling of his touch.

'Let's start, shall we?' She smiled, but he didn't. Instead he brought a hand to her cheek. She felt frozen to the spot. The comfort she had felt only a second before vanished into fear and awkwardness again.

'Remember earlier, when we apologised for kissing one another?' Ginny merely gulped in response. 'Well, I'm not sorry about it at all, actually. And I don't think you are either. So I'm going to do it again now.'

Ginny shivered as they made contact once more. Their third kiss: had she been able to process this, it would have astounded her. This time began slow, searching, much like the kiss they had shared at the Colosseum. But then, just as Ginny's heartbeat began to steady, it became something more. She did not resist: she needed more. She needed to let loose the tension between them, set it free and hope that it went away. She grasped at Malfoy, pulling him down on top of her. It was a painful mess of limbs and bones and dirt, but Ginny didn't care at this point. It seemed that Malfoy didn't either, until she made a grab to undo his trousers.

'Holy shit, we can't do this here,' he said, looking around. Sure enough, they could see people moving about the ruins - it was pretty obvious that they'd be seen in return. He got to his feet, held out a hand, which she gratefully took and they retreated over a small fence, then behind a hefty piece of white stone. Ginny grabbed her wand, muttered 'Muffliato', which was the best she could do under the circumstances, and went back to the business of kissing Malfoy. He leaned her back against the stone as he slipped a hand under her skirt, beneath her knickers. She gasped and threw her head back, bashing it on the stone and causing them both to laugh slightly. She reached for him in return, doing away with his trousers and underwear as quickly and skilfully as she could. Once her hand was on him, their eyes locked; Ginny felt like she might keel over if she didn't have him that second. She tried to communicate this to him, but it only came out as a slight whimper and her hand pulling desperately at his shirt.

'Now?' he asked. She nodded. He pulled his hand from under her skirt, taking her knickers with him, which she hurriedly stepped out of. He rolled the skirt up around her hips, and she shivered as he grabbed her thighs, both from the sensation of his touch and the night air on her skin.

He lifted her, then. She did her best to support her weight as he positioned himself and then finally entered her. She sighed, in pleasure and relief, giving herself over to the friction of their bodies and the stone on her back. They soon found a rhythm of sorts, though there was an awkwardness to it that marked it clearly as their first time together.

'Malfoy,' Ginny gasped, 'this isn't working.'

'What do you mean?' He looked concerned, and yet he didn't stop moving.

'I can barely balance. We need to move.'

'We are moving.'

'Not like that.'

'Like this?'

'As nice as that is, no. Floor please. Now.'

He sighed, resigned, and pulled away. Ginny stepped away from the ruins to take a deep breath. If there was any going back, now was the moment for it. It was barely a decision though, as she soon found herself in Malfoy's lap, sinking down onto him, her knees in the grass, her hands on his shoulders, his on her waist, eye to eye.

'This is mental Weasley,' said Malfoy, clutching her tighter. 'Fucking insane.'

She didn't reply; it wasn't necessary, she simply closed her eyes, tried to forget that they could be discovered at any moment and enjoyed this feeling that could have been hers so long ago, but which she had neglected to claim until now. It was a good thing she hadn't claimed it earlier, too, for she was sure that the feeling wouldn't be nearly as mind-blowing back then as it was now.

She leaned in and kissed him, hard. She needed to be closer, always closer. Her hand was on his neck, hot and sticky; it made her yearn for the feeling of his naked chest against hers. Here she was, lost in a kiss with this man, releasing this tension that had been between them almost as long as she could remember, and still...

'Not enough,' she said, puling away, barely able to breathe. 'It's not enough.'

He kissed her softly on the lips, almost innocently, and as he did so he moved a hand between them, touching her in the one spot she needed it most now. She bit down lightly on his lip, then pulled back, clutching at him as she saw stars. Gasping, squeezing, he followed her into oblivion.

Ginny fell forward, her head resting above Malfoy's shoulder in the nape of his neck. His hands moved up her waist to rest on her back, holding her lightly, but nevertheless close. They did not move for a minute or two, but sat there, recovering.

'Weasley, would it be forward of me to ask you back to my hotel room?' Malfoy asked, and Ginny began to laugh.

'Way too forward. What sort of high-class gentleman are you?' She leaned back again so that she could kiss him lightly on the lips. 'We need showers.'

'No, we need a shower.'

When fully recovered they Apparated into a side street off the Piazza della Repubblicca, for it was as close as they could get to the building without being seen. They briskly walked across the Piazza, suppressing laughter; Ginny hoped no one would notice the grass stains on her knees.

As they went up in the lift, Ginny stood on her tiptoes to kiss Malfoy slowly. When it stopped at their floor, they jumped and broke apart. The doors opened and revealed no one, so they laughed and fell into another kiss.

'I feel like I'm at school or something,' Ginny said, 'with all this sneaking around.'

Malfoy took her hand and led her down the corridor. 'I don't remember sneaking around being this fun at school,' he said, opening the door to his unsurprisingly fancy suite. 'Now, let's get you in the shower; you've been far too clothed so far this evening.'

*

Ginny awoke to find her face pressed into a white satin pillow and groaned. So it hadn't been a dream, then. She rolled over onto her side to see that she was in the bed alone, and that the curtains were already open, the light streaming in through the open balcony doors. She got up, grabbed her wand from where it was lying on the floor and headed into the bathroom, as quietly as she could. There was no one inside, so she locked the door and stepped into the shower. She felt flushed as memories of that shower from the night before ran through her mind: cold tiles on her back, warm moist skin on hers, falling out of there and onto the floor and coming hard.

Had that really been her? It didn't feel like it this morning. Worst of all, she could not find an excuse for her actions; it wasn't as though she'd had more than one glass of wine or had been extremely emotional about something unrelated and therefore couldn't be held responsible for her actions. All there had been was connection and desire.

Once washed and dried, Ginny threw on one of the white hotel bathrobes and brushed her damp hair. It would develop into waves if she let it dry in the sun, but she didn't have her straightening serum, or anything to curl it under with. Waves would suffice for now. She headed out onto the balcony, her stomach churning.

Malfoy sat at the table on the balcony, drinking coffee as he read his newspaper. The table itself was covered in an array of breakfast foods. Ginny felt self-conscious wearing a bathrobe in full view of the Piazza, even as high up as they were.

'You're up,' said Malfoy. 'You sleep like a baby.'

Ginny sat down, nervously. 'Where did you get the food from?'

'Room service; which by the way was a pain. The guy recognised you and so I had to pay him.' He poured her a cup of coffee, which she took, though it was black and strong.

'Jesus,' she said, rubbing her forehead. 'My mum would kill me.'

'Are you hung over?' he asked, cautiously.

'No - no, I only had one glass of wine. I'm just tired. Maybe a bit confused.'

He seemed reassured by this. 'Well, let's just eat and sit in the sun.'

They did so, for a while, and it only made Ginny all the more nervous. On the one hand, this may have been what was simply polite in the kind of society that Malfoy was used to. Perhaps she'd be shuffled out and they wouldn't speak again. On the other, it was oddly domestic, strangely comfortable; he seemed completely at ease.

'This is weird,' said Ginny, picking at a pastry.

'How so?' He put the paper down, as if ready for a conversation at last.

'Malfoy - have you looked around? We're sat on a balcony in Italy eating breakfast together.'

'Yes. That is a bit unusual.' He looked out on the Piazza, and then back at her. 'I didn't know you'd be here; I didn't plan any of this. I didn't know.'

'So you're not going to chuck me out, then?' Ginny asked, staring at the pastry that she was tearing apart.

'What, for sleeping with me?' He seemed to find this amusing, and she looked up cautiously. 'No. I'm not. I wanted you to help me with something, actually.'

'Oh. And what's that? Because if it's a...'

'No, I think you helped me with that enough. And I, you.'

'That you did.' She raised her cup of coffee to him, in mock toast. The lively banter made it easier to deal with; she supposed it was less of a transition that way. That's how it had been the last time, though they hadn't got this far.

'I'm going to Lazio, into the country. For business. Will you come with me?'

She considered it for a moment. She hadn't really seen the Italian country as of yet, save for that around the Quidditch stadiums. Plus, she was very intrigued to find out what this supposed business of Malfoy's was. 'Okay. I'll come.'

*

Malfoy Apparated to their destination, taking Ginny with him. Because she could not know their target Apparition on her own would be risky. It would have been enough for Ginny to hold on to his arm to get there, so the fact that he wrapped his arms around her was somewhat surprising as well as comforting. It was the first real contact they'd had that morning, the first acknowledgement of what had gone before that had some emotion to it, rather than sly remarks made in an attempt to distance themselves from one another. When they arrived, Ginny's head was spinning; the combination of the feeling of Apparition, the Italian summer and Malfoy's touch was dizzying.

She opened her eyes. They were on a hill, surrounded by fields, trees and other hills. There were no signs of life aside from a large villa and some outbuildings in the middle of the nearest valley.

'Know what that is, Weasley?' He pointed at the villa and surrounding area.

'At a guess, I'd say it was a vineyard,' she said, noticing that the fields were not merely grass, but straight rows of grapevines going on for miles.

'Correct. That's where we're headed.' He pulled her by the hand so that they could begin descending the hill.

'Aha,' she said, beginning to connect the dots in her head. He glanced back at her, giving her a questioning look. 'That wine you gave me - it's from here?'

'Yes.'

'And the business, it's something to do with wine, right?'

'Yes.'

'Are you going to explain anymore than that?'

'Okay, I suppose it'll all become clear very soon anyway.' They were at the bottom of the hill now, and joined a dirt road that would take them towards the villa. 'I'm thinking of buying the vineyard; I'll hire a few people to help me run it, and use magic - they're Muggles at the moment - and then I'll market it back in Britain.'

'So you'll be living in Italy?' She didn't know why her heart sunk at the thought; or rather she did, and the fact scared her so she chose to think otherwise.

'Probably. At least some of the time; I haven't decided yet.' He shrugged. 'Merlin, Weasley, I need to by the place first!'

'So what's the purpose of today's little excursion then?'

'I'm just checking the place out with a woman for a female perspective, and plus I need to discuss some things with the current owners. How much Italian do you know exactly?'

'Not anywhere near enough to talk about vineyards. I don't even know the word for vineyard.' Ginny was a little panicked, perhaps this was the real reason she was here, but she didn't speak much more Italian than Malfoy.

'Well then it's a good job I hired a translator to meet us here then, isn't it?' He looked at her as if he knew her discomfort and revelled in it. She didn't quite know what to make of this. His hand on hers was beginning to feel more and more unfamiliar as the enormity of their changed dynamics became clearer. It was so alien, both in idea and in practice that the more she tried to get used to it the more she couldn't seem to be able to process it. After walking like this for a while, feeling very uncomfortable, she snatched her hand away. Malfoy stopped walking for a fraction of a second, and looked at her. When it became clear she wasn't about to say anything, they continued forwards, both staring straight ahead.

Ginny couldn't stand the silence any more than she could stand his hand on hers.

'I'm sorry - I'm just very confused. It's weird to be walking along holding your hand, Malfoy. Don't you think that it's weird?'

'It's - yes, it's weird. But I,' he cleared his throat, 'I thought I'd sort of put myself out there yesterday and this morning ...' There was a long pause; Ginny wasn't sure whether to fill it, and exactly what was the appropriate thing to fill it with. 'You're being very fickle about this, Weasley. Very fickle.'

'I know.' She nodded. They were getting near to the villa now, and she was glad; maybe the conversation would be dropped.

'I mean, last night you wouldn't stop kissing me. And in the bathroom ... I just wouldn't have thought that you'd be having a problem with this.'

'It's just this - this whole thing that has appeared out of nowhere between us - it's not normal. I can't wrap my ahead around it. I don't know what it means.'

'Can't you just try to enjoy it?'

She shrugged. 'I like to understand what it is I'm throwing myself into before I do.'

'Oh - like last night?'

'That was different.'

'Because it was sex?'

'It wasn't just sex,' she said, quieter than she had intended.

'Then what was it?'

Here, she chose to end the conversation and simply stared out ahead, as they walked up the last stretch of road to the villa. She heard Malfoy sigh with exasperation, and took a sort of pleasure in it; at least he'd be as messed up as she was.

The villa itself was gorgeous, the epitome of what Ginny imagined when she thought of the Italian countryside, both inside and out. She could definitely see why Malfoy would want to live here. With his money, he could spend the rest of his days loafing in the sun and drinking all the wine his workers produced. It would hardly be a bad life, albeit an unexciting one.

An elderly woman had greeted them at the door; she'd seemed happy to see Malfoy and ushered them inside. She called Ginny 'Signora Malfoy', making her mumble embarrassedly and Malfoy smirk in apparent enjoyment at this.

In the kitchen, which reminded Ginny very much of her mother's, they found an elderly gentleman - who uncorked a bottle of wine, shook Malfoy's hand before calling Ginny 'bella ragazza'. She imagined her face was as red as her hair by this point. They drank the wine, which Ginny now recalled had been very good. Soon after, the translator turned up. The gentleman who had poured the wine (whose name was apparently Signor Moretti) asked Ginny if she would like to take a walk through their garden with him whilst this was going on. She agreed, although she wondered quite how they would communicate once they left the translator behind.

They wandered around the garden in silence mostly, but Ginny was glad of the company of Signor Moretti simply so that she wasn't completely alone in her thoughts. He pointed out flowers, gestured that she should smell them, asked if she liked them, but never tried to explain. They could communicate basic ideas and emotions to one another quite easily, but to explain was impossible. This proved mostly to be a problem as they finished their tour and neared the house.

'Signor Malfoy - il vostro fidanzato?' he asked, looking up as he checked the soil in a pot. Ginny felt herself turning red, yet again. She knew 'fidanzato' to mean 'boyfriend' or 'lover'.

'No,' she said, for this was correct, in some respects.

'Perché?'

'Non so.' It was true; she didn't know. She could not explain beyond that because her Italian wouldn't stretch that far, but also because she didn't think she could explain it even in English. It struck her that her problem with Signor Moretti was so similar to her problem with Malfoy in that she could only skim the surface of whatever she was trying to say when she opened her mouth. Perhaps that was why she had kissed him so often the night before: it had seemed to be the only response that made any sense in that moment, whilst in the morning the response was to snatch her hand away. She sighed; this was madness, all of it.

Signor Moretti touched a hand affectionately to her chin. 'Bella ragazza,' he said again, and smiled. Ginny smiled weakly back, accepting this odd comfort and reassurance, not knowing how else to respond. With this, they headed into the villa again, to find everyone shaking hands and smiling. Ginny smiled right along with them: she was impressed that Malfoy could do business, but even more impressed that he could do it because he wanted to, rather than because it would give him power over others.

'Things going well, are they?' Ginny asked, as Malfoy turned to greet her.

'Very,' he said. 'We basically have a deal mapped out; I just need to arrange the paperwork now. It shouldn't take too long.'

'That's excellent news. I was looking at the garden.'

'I noticed.'

A moment later it occurred to Ginny that the two of them had descended into simply looking at one another and smiling sheepishly. Surely that should have happened before the sex, not afterwards? She looked down at the floor, though her smile faded.

'Like I said, Weasley,' said Malfoy, 'you're incredibly fickle.' It did not sound like a remark driven by malice, but amusement and perhaps ... affection?

'I know, I know,' she conceded, 'I'm a terrible person.'

'To atone for your sins, your many sins, fancy a picnic before we head back?'

She nodded. 'That'd be nice.'

They ate in the shade of a tree that was halfway up the hill that they had arrived on. Signora Moretti had given them a basket of what appeared to be homemade foods and, of course, wine. Ginny felt completely relaxed as they sat eating, drinking and chatting away. These were the stupid conversations she remembered from their teenage years.

'Have you ever had a Neapolitan Every Flavour Bean?' Malfoy asked, as he worked his way through a piece of ciabatta and olive oil.

'Of course I haven't - they don't exist. Everyone knows it's just a myth.'

'They do so exist. I knew someone who had eaten one once.'

'As if you did,' said Ginny, shaking her head.

'I did.'

'Who was it then?'

He seemed to think about this for a moment. 'Well, I don't remember. But someone did.'

'How can anyone eat something that doesn't exist?'

'Tell me, Weasley, who's your flatmate back home?'

She groaned, seeing where this was going. 'Luna Lovegood.'

'And I'm sure she gets you to believe five impossible things before breakfast, doesn't she?'

'She thinks she does.' Ginny smiled, thinking of her friend, who she hadn't seen in a couple of months due to their respective careers. 'Anyway, sometimes she hits on something that is true. And even Luna doesn't believe in Neapolitan Every Flavour Beans. You know, each bean is one flavour; that's three flavours.'

'That's why it's so rare, Weasley. One of these days, I'm going to find one, and then I'm going to show it to you to prove it.'

'But you won't know what it is until you've tasted it!'

'Good point.' They sat in silence for a moment, until Malfoy was apparently struck by inspiration. 'From now on, I'm going to make sure not to eat a whole bean all at once.'

Ginny laughed at the image that formed in her mind of Malfoy cautiously nibbling at Every Flavour Beans. 'Okay, you do that.' She sat up on to her knees, brushed the crumbs from her hands onto the grass and poured them each another glass of wine. 'It's so depressingly lovely up here.'

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'It's depressing because I have to work tomorrow,' she said. Saying the words aloud made it all the more depressing and true.

'I thought you liked working. Getting yourself a career and all that.'

'I do, I just ...' She trailed off, surveying him cautiously.

'What? You can say it; there's no Slytherin common room waiting for me to report back.' Part of Ginny doubted that, there was always a Slytherin common room in one way or another.

'I love Quidditch, right, You know that I've always loved it.'

'Yeah, it's in your blood or whatever.' She didn't like the way that he said 'your blood', but ignored it.

'It's just sometimes ... I feel like it's not the most worthwhile thing to be writing about. I mean, what about real news? What about travel journalism? What about plays, novels, and "highly intellectual and subversive poetry"?' Malfoy grinned. 'I just feel sometimes that I'm climbing a ladder to nowhere.'

'Well, I reckon you've just got to keep pushing with this job ... I mean, won't being a great Quidditch reporter allow you to get jobs elsewhere?'

'I suppose so. Maybe.' She sighed. 'I just want more than this - not in the future, but now.'

'Weasley, I don't know if you've noticed, but you're in Italy covering the World Cup - you've already covered the most exciting match so far. You're doing great.' He took a sip of wine. 'I'll tell you exactly what your problem is.'

'What's that?'

'You hate having a boss. You've spent so long rebelling that you're just used to hating being bossed around. And having a boss who you like? How dare she?'

Ginny laughed. 'I hate that you're right. Hate, hate, hate it.'

'Aww,' said Malfoy, feigning sympathy. 'It's terrible, isn't it?'

'Yes,' she agreed. 'I missed this. This is exactly what I missed.' She put her wineglass aside, took his from his hand and placed it next to hers. Then she knelt up next to him and kissed him lightly on the lips.

'I missed that,' he whispered, 'more than the talking, I have to say.'

She did not respond, but kissed him again, this time adding her tongue to the action. She could feel one of his hands on the small of her back, the other on her neck; the sun was beating down and Ginny felt beautiful and alive for a sudden instant. They broke off the kiss, their bodies still incredibly close. His grey eyes seemed to be sucking her in.

'Are you being fickle again, Weasley?'

She shook her head ever so slightly. 'No,' she whispered, before kissing him briefly once more. When this kiss was broken, she knelt back on to her heels and wondered whether or not she should say what was in her head. Perhaps she should just have a cigarette? No, she decided, best to just say it.

'I think I know what's bothering me about this thing,' she said, and she gestured between them with a finger.

'What's that?' Malfoy asked.

'Well, it's great, I'm having a great time ... but it's not going to work back home.'

'Do you really think so?'

'Don't you?' It was a question she genuinely wanted answering; if he disagreed with her, then perhaps he could change her mind.

'Honestly, yes I do, but I was blissfully denying it until you chose to point it out.' Ginny's heart sank slightly; she was right. There was no way it could work, and neither of them was willing to try. 'So what's the solution?'

'Solution?'

He sighed. 'Every problem has a solution, Weasley.'

'I guess, I guess the solution is to agree to go all out on this, let loose and enjoy it whilst we're here and then...'

'What happens in Italy stays in Italy?'

'Exactly.'

Malfoy leaned down close enough to kiss her, but refrained from doing so. 'We had better start making the best of that then.'

'I agree,' Ginny said, breathlessly, her heart racing in excitement.

'So if I were to fuck you, right here, right now - no one would ever be the wiser once we get back home?'

'Nope. No one would ever know.'

'I think that's what I'm going to have to do, then.'

*

Ginny woke up in Malfoy's bed again the following morning. Gwen would kill her if she found out that the Prophet was spending all that money on what was becoming a glorified wardrobe, essentially. She rolled over, to find Malfoy sleeping next to her this time. She couldn't help but smile, and wrapped an arm over his naked waist. Just five more minutes.

'Get up,' said Malfoy, his eyes still closed.

'I thought you were asleep.'

'Well I'm not. But you have to get up.' He shifted his hips in an attempt to deflect her arm. 'Don't you have a job to go to?'

'Do I have to?' She stared up at him, and he opened his eyes to look back.

'Yes,' he said, 'unfortunately.'

'Fine.'

She showered in her own bathroom, making sure she was dressed, refreshed and ready to go when Gwen knocked at her door.

'Are you ready for some stress?' she asked; it was clear she was excited about the prospect of the knockout stages of the tournament.

'I'm as ready as I'll ever be.' They left the room, and Ginny suppressed the idea to sigh wistfully as they headed down to breakfast for a briefing of their updated itineraries.

'Where were you yesterday? I didn't see you at all,' said Gwen, sounding a little too casual.

'I went into the country for a picnic, it was really nice.' Ginny shrugged, determinedly not looking at Gwen as they made their way through the lobby towards the restaurant.

'On your own?'

'Actually, I was with Draco Malfoy.' Well, there really was no point in lying when most of your friends were journalists.

'Should I be printing that?'

'As neither of us are Quidditch players, no, you shouldn't.'

'You know what I mean,' said Gwen as they sat at their customary breakfast table opposite John (who was using his newspaper to block them out, as usual).

'It's nothing - we were friends at school, and we haven't seen one another since then, so we've just been hanging out and catching up.'

'I've never heard a Weasley and a Malfoy described as "friends" before.'

'Well that's just further proof that the Prophet's fact checkers are a pile of shit, isn't it?'

'You win,' said Gwen, and they began to drink coffee.

Ginny smiled. Pointing out the general ineptitude of fact checkers always won her arguments at the Prophet.

It occurred to her that although she wanted more than the job she currently had, that didn't take away the fun of it, nor did it make it worth any less. Sometimes, though, it seemed like anything beyond the present was impossible; she was scared that if she reached too hard for her dreams, they would prove futile. It was easy to look like she had what she wanted but hard to speak up and get it. She didn't want to blame her relationship with Harry for this trait of hers, but sometimes it was hard not to. She couldn't quite figure out how to shake it, either.