From Venice with Love

At quarter to seven, Hermione was ready. She and her mother had gone shopping almost as soon as Malfoy had left and had found what Hermione’s mother and the saleswoman felt was the “perfect” dress. Hermione herself had not been so sure. It was a little tight for her taste, but it wasn’t like anyone she knew would see her or judge her except for Malfoy. It was cream coloured brocade, off the shoulder with a plunging back that Hermione was uncomfortable with. They had also purchased shoes and elbow-length gloves to go with it. It felt heavy while it was on, too heavy, but she had to admit she felt pretty in it; pretty and grown up. Her mother had helped her encourage her hair into manageable ringlets and had helped with make up as well, something which Hermione usually wore little of, and she wasn’t very good at applying it. After her mother was done she looked in the mirror and felt…different. The face looking back at her was barely recognisable and she felt the whole thing was rather surreal. She was in Venice, dressed like a princess, to go to an opera, with Malfoy. She shook her head a little to clear it. Real life seemed very dim and far away and Hermione decided for a night she would forget who she was, who Malfoy was. She was just a girl, invited out by a boy, a boy she had grown to like, to an opera, something she had never been to. She would deal with reality tomorrow. Resolved, she smiled at her reflection and turned away.

Hermione jumped as her door opened. “Hermione,” her mother said, smiling. “Draco is here.” Hermione’s heart fluttered and she paused only a moment to check her hair and followed her mother towards the sitting room.

Malfoy was once again sitting with her father, talking quietly when Hermione arrived. She stepped in shyly and met his eyes. Malfoy stared at her, expressionless for a moment before he stood. “Good evening,” he said hoarsely.

Hermione stared at him a long moment. He was wearing Muggle clothes again, a tuxedo. She always had thought in the back of her mind, however grudgingly, that he was handsome, but know she had to admit it- he was gorgeous. “Good evening,” she said back.

“Hermione, dear, you look lovely,” her father said.

This seemed to push Malfoy to action. “Yes, you look…beautiful,” He said quietly, his grey eyes locked with hers.

She smiled. “Thank you.” Her mother was behind her with her shawl. Hermione took it, muttering her thanks. Malfoy came up to her and offered her his arm. She took it, and with her parents grinning madly at them, left the suite.

“That was embarrassing,” Hermione said as they waited for the elevator. “Could they be much more obvious?”

“I’ll have you know, Granger, all parents love me,” Malfoy smirked at her. “I have that sort of effect on them. I can be charming when I want to be, you know.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “When you want to.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Don’t spoil tonight by being yourself, Granger,”

Hermione frowned and smacked his arm. “Same to you,” she said sharply. She remembered her earlier resolution and sighed. “What are we seeing?”

Malfoy seemed content to let the spat drop as well. “The opera is called ‘Il campiello’” he said. “It’s about the lives of all the villagers that live near the village square. It’s a romantic comedy.”

“Sounds good,” Hermione said as they walked out into the night air. “You were going to go with your mother?” Hermione regretted the question as soon as she said it. “Sorry, never mind,” she said quickly.

“It’s okay,” he said quietly. “We have a box, so we have tickets to every production. Mother is out of town, though. She’s visiting a friend in Rome for a week.”

“Rome is lovely,” Hermione said.

Malfoy looked at her, amused. “You’ve been, have you?”

“Well, no,” Hermione admitted, blushing. “I hear it’s nice though. I’ve read about it,”

“I’m sure you have,” Malfoy said dryly.

“Can we just pretend you’re not a prat for just one night, Malfoy?” Hermione snapped.

Malfoy said nothing, but kept walking. After a few minutes, Hermione began to feel guilty for snapping at him. Before she could say something, however, the theatre came into view.

Hermione gasped. It was as beautiful as she’d seen in books, and the lights illuminated it brilliantly. She clutched Malfoy’s arm tighter. “It’s so beautiful,” she breathed.

Malfoy shrugged.”The inside is nice as well,” he said.

They followed the other audience members into the theatre. Malfoy was right; the inside was spectacular. Everything was gold or marble; the ceilings were high with murals or sculptures she could barely see. Malfoy led her to a private box that was done in red velvet. Hermione leaned over to look at the orchestra and the ceiling, where a large chandelier hung.

“Granger, close your mouth please, and stop hanging over the box,” Malfoy hissed at her, pulling at her dress. Hermione made a face at him, but sat as he requested. Malfoy continued to stand and greeted the patrons on either side of them in their own boxes.

“Hello, Mr. Finesworth, Mrs. Finesworth, how are you?” he said fluidly.

An elderly man and woman to their left smiled at him. “Draco, it’s been a long time. How are you?” The elder gentlemen said.”How is school?”

“Good, thank you,” he responded. “This is Hermione Granger. Hermione, this is Mr. and Mrs. Finesworth.”

“Hello,” Hermione said. Malfoy nudged her a little, so she stood up and shook hands with Mrs. Finesworth.

“Good to meet you, dear,” Mr. Finesworth said. “Have you been to the opera before?”

“No, sir,” Hermione said.

“You’re in for a treat. ‘Il campiello’ is one of my favourites,” he said, as the lights began to flutter.

Malfoy took Hermione’s arm to get her to sit again. “It’s about to start,” he said.

“I know. I have been to plays before,” Hermione retorted. He was acting as if she was stupid! His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t reply.

As the lights went down, Hermione leaned forward in order to have a better view of the stage. Malfoy handed her a pair of binoculars. “Thank you,” she said softly.

A man and woman came on stage and began singing. It was in Italian, and Hermione was not sure what was happening. She looked at Malfoy, who leaned in closer to her. “That man, Astolfi, he’s the town playboy.” He whispered to her, his breath touching her cheek. “The woman, Luçieta, is in love with that other man, Anzoleto. He’s mad that Astolfi is paying her attention.”

Hermione, while interested in the opera, could not concentrate. Malfoy was so close she could smell his aftershave. His hair was touching her ear as he leaned over to whisper, his arm and leg touching hers. She shook her head a little to clear her thoughts. The audience laughed as a man came out, comically dressed as an older woman.

“That’s Dona Pasqua, the other woman’s mother,” Malfoy was still whispering to her.

“I…I see,” Hermione had no idea what he had said before that, or what other woman he was talking about. It seemed a host of other people had appeared on the stage since she had stopped paying attention. She was flustered, and tried to focus on what Malfoy was telling her. Her mind would keep going off however as her stomach tied in knots over his close proximity. She thought back to their kiss and began to blush. She wondered if he would kiss her again, when he took her home.

“Are you alright?” he said suddenly. “You look flushed.”

“What? Oh, it’s just a little hot in here,” she lied. He frowned a little as if he didn’t believe her, but didn’t contradict her. The first act passed quickly, with Hermione understanding very little, but she resolved to pay better attention in the acts to follow.

The next act she did indeed pay better attention as Malfoy had ceased his narration. She found that by the actions of the actors she could understand the plot and began to enjoy the opera immensely. By the end of the final chorus, when she joined the audience on its’ feet, she was very sorry it was over.

“That was wonderful,” she said to Malfoy as they filed out of the theatre. “The singing was.. I could feel it, not just hear it.”

Malfoy nodded. “Yes, it’s very powerful,” he agreed.

When they went outside, she saw that is was ten o’clock. “I can’t believe it’s so late,” she murmured.

Malfoy frowned. “Did you need to get back?”

“No! It was just a comment. It was a long opera,” she said quickly, and Malfoy’s face relaxed.

“Good. I thought we might have a bite to eat, if you’re hungry.”

Hermione nodded. “I am hungry.”

They walked along in silence for awhile until Hermione could bear it no longer. “Do you go to the opera a lot?” she asked. “The couple beside us seemed to know you.”

Malfoy shrugged. “A few times- my parents would make me come. When I got older, I appreciated it more.” He fell silent for a moment. “I’m surprised you’d never been.”

Hermione sighed. “I’d wanted to, my parents never took me.”

“So, I was your first?” Malfoy grinned evilly at her.

She gasped, and then smiled as she heard the teasing tone in his voice. “You’re horrid, Draco,” she shook her head. After a moment, she realised he had stopped walking. She turned back and saw he was looking at her with a puzzled expression. “What’s wrong?” she asked anxiously.

“You said… Draco,” he said.

“Did I?” she said, feeling her face growing red. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry,” he snapped, striding up to her. She flinched at the harsh tone in his voice. “I didn’t mean to snap,” he said, quieter. “I just didn’t-“ he paused, so she looked up at him. His eyes darted around, searching her face for something. Suddenly, without warning, his hands flew to the sides of her face and he was kissing her.

Hermione stood still, shocked for a moment. Unlike the night before, this kiss wasn’t soft and sweet. His lips opened immediately and his hands held her face roughly. There was something urgent in it and she was a little afraid. He seemed to sense this and whispered hoarsely to her,” Granger, please, I need-“ his voice was cut off when Hermione finally kissed him back. She put her arms around his neck as he pressed against her, and opened her mouth. She had only been kissed a few times before in her life and never like this- she wasn’t sure what to do. Heart beating madly, Hermione felt his tongue in her mouth. She touched it tentatively, which made him kiss her harder still. She was taken aback by the passion in his kiss as she rarely saw any emotion from him. His hands were in her hair, on her back, and then-

“Draco!” she whispered, pulling away from him. “We’re on a street!”

He opened his eyes and looked at her. “So?”

“So? Look around!” She pointed out the people who were watching them with amused expressions.

Malfoy shrugged, though she saw him tinge a little pink. “You want me to stop then?” he asked.

She hesitated before answering. “I want you to take me somewhere we won’t be stared at,” she said, smiling.

Malfoy took her hand, and smiling back, led her away.