When Theo brings Hogwarts’ elite to Italy for the summer, they discover his effortlessly reckless life back home—and the one girl in Rome they’ve been warned they’re nowhere near ready to meet.
💬 2m
@tipsyqueenSeven British wizards stepped out of thin air onto a gravel drive that probably cost more than the entire Slytherin common room. The Tuscan sun hit them like a bludger to the face.
The manor before them was a sprawling estate of pale stone and dark green shutters, wrapped in vineyards and cypress trees that rolled down toward the shimmering terracotta roofs of Florence. A fountain gurgled in the courtyard. Somewhere, cicadas were screaming like tiny Italian teenagers.
Draco lowered his sunglasses. It was only for dramatic effect, because the sun was extremely bright and he was in Italy, and Italy, he had decided approximately four seconds ago, was going to be his entire personality for the foreseeable future.
Pansy Parkinson
You grew up here?
Theodore Nott
pushing his sunglasses up his nose with an ease that bordered on offensive Mostly.
Draco Malfoy
Mostly.
The manor doors slammed open. Three figures burst out like they'd been fired from a cannon.
Isabella
dark hair flying, phone still in hand, shouting in rapid Italian before crashing into Theo and kissing both his cheeks Theodoro!
Leo
sprinting past her, cigarette still in mouth, grabbing Theo around the neck Finalmente!
Giovanni
bringing up the rear, already holding a bottle of wine at three in the afternoon, grinning like a disaster in progress
The next twenty seconds were pure chaos. Italian ricocheted off the stone walls faster than Draco could track. Theo was shoved, hugged, thumped on the back, and all but tackled. His accent, Draco realized with horror, had gotten twice as thick.
Isabella
releasing Theo and turning to the group, beaming So. You're the Brits.
She was beautiful the way Italians are beautiful—effortlessly, annoyingly, like it was just a side effect of being alive. White sundress, sunglasses pushed up on her head, posture that suggested she'd never once in her life been told no.
Isabella
eyes sweeping over them Theo talks about you all the time. I thought he was exaggerating.
Blaise Zabini
a slow smile Exaggerating about what?
A beat. The Italian group exchanged a look. Leo said something in Italian while looking directly at Draco. Isabella burst out laughing. Draco's ears went red.
Draco Malfoy
What did he say?
Theo
smoothly Nothing.
Draco Malfoy
Nott.
Theo
grinning, pulling a cigarette from somewhere inside his robes Welcome to Italy.
Twenty minutes later, they were all sprawled across an enormous terrace overlooking the Tuscan hills. Wine was being poured like water. Music drifted from somewhere inside the manor. Leo had lost his shoes. Isabella had stolen Theo’s sunglasses. And Draco was losing actual Galleons to Leo in some incomprehensible card game that seemed to involve a lot of hand gestures and swearing.
Draco Malfoy
slamming a card down How is that even legal?
Leo
calmly gathering Draco's galleons It's not.
Pansy Parkinson
fanning herself with her hand This is insane. Italy is insane. You're insane.
Theo
lighting a cigarette It's normal back home.
Isabella
nodding seriously It is.
Giovanni raised his own cigarette in a toast. Pansy stared at him. Then at Theo. Then back at Giovanni.
Pansy Parkinson
You've all been telling the truth this entire time?
Theo
blowing out a stream of smoke I told you not to come to Italy.
Pansy Parkinson
You said your friends were fun, not— gestures vaguely at everything —this.
Astoria Greengrass had wandered over to the shaded table near the terrace railing, drawn by something on the surface. She picked up a photograph, a gold frame worn soft at the edges. Five teenagers were squeezed together on a boat stopped somewhere on a blue, impossible sea. Theo, younger, grinning like he meant it. Isabella and Giovanni mid-laugh. Leo flipping off the camera. And in the center, a blonde girl with her head tipped back, wild hair, a grin so wide it must have hurt.
Astoria Greengrass
turning the frame toward them Is this her?
Every glass stopped mid-air. Every conversation cut off. The Italians looked over, and something in the air changed—warmth, fondness, a little bit of mischief.
Isabella
smiling slowly That's her.
The name hung in the air, weighty and familiar. The girl who appeared in every story. The girl who knew someone. The girl who started everything. The girl who wasn't here.
Draco Malfoy
eyes flicking to Theo Where is she?
Theo
dropping his cigarette into the ashtray, glancing south toward the horizon Rome. She comes when she comes.
Giovanni
pouring more wine, shrugging Probably tonight. Maybe tomorrow.
Leo
still grinning When she gets here, you'll know.
Pansy Parkinson
narrowing her eyes Is that a threat?
Isabella
wrapping an arm around Pansy's shoulders, steering her back toward the food It's a promise, tesoro.
The sun was turning gold, spilling across the vineyards and the distant Duomo, and the terrace was loud with laughing and arguing and the clink of glasses. Theo leaned against the railing, cigarette between his fingers, looking more alive than Draco had ever seen him. But every now and then, his eyes drifted to the driveway. To the horizon to the south.
An empty chair sat beside Isabella. A glass had been set out for no one had bothered to put it away. And somewhere in Rome, three hundred kilometers away, the girl from every story was coming.