A/N: Sorry for the hideously short chapter, I didn't expect to have the vacate the computer so early, I'll be back later tonight with a new chapter. I hope this is a decent intro, it's not beta-ed, I apologize for that so bear with me. It does get better.

WARNING: This fic WILL contain explicit content later on as well as violence, foul language, death and possibly sarcasm. If you do not approve of homosexual relationships then this is not for you.

Having faced much adversity in his daunting childhood there were few things Harry Potter was absolutely certain of. The first being that which can happen... will happen to him, the second being that Draco Malfoy is most definitely losing his hair, and the third ... he will have pumpkin juice with his breakfast every morning. Therefore to say he was surprised when, on a dull, cold Tuesday morning of 2009, he ran out of pumpkin juice would have been...a lie. He had traversed to the ice box in his boxers, having already foregone the notion of going to work that day, with the intent of procuring his favorite beverage. Bleary-eyed he reached for the handle and with a half-hearted tug pulled the door open. He bent down and peered groggily into the too bright refrigerator. Reaching in he grabbed the chilly metal pitcher of pumpkin off the near-empty shelf and pulled back, at which point the already crookedly placed glasses slipped off his nose and clattered to the floor. In a last ditch effort to rescue them Harry jerked both arms backs, his left palm wide open to catch them, the pitcher cradled in his right. Upon exiting the fridge, the original trajectory of the pumpkin juice was thrown off course, hitting the top shelf of the ice box and successfully ejecting itself from Harry's fingers and crashing to the floor on top of his glasses. Being blind without them, Harry failed to save them and thus the right lens was cracked and sticky from the pumpkin juice he wouldn't having this morning. Bollocks.

Sighing dejectedly, Harry cleaned the mess, repaired his glasses and took the Daily Prophet into the sitting room by the fireplace. This marked the beginning of a two week long vacation that Harry had been very much looking forward to. It was decided by himself, with the advice of his best friends, that he should use this time to reconsider his future. At twenty-nine years old he was one of the world's most successful young wizards and not just because he defeated Voldemort. He became an auror after the war and quickly rose through the rank to become Head of Office as well as the Secretary of S.P.E.W. However, he found himself to be dissatisfied with his life. He loved his job, his friends, his quaint home in Godric's Hollow and yet he felt...cold. He wasn't depressed by any means, he still enjoyed the things he always did. Harry merely surmised that this feeling came not having anyone to share those things with! When that person didn't turn out to be Ginny, he was ok with that. They remained steadfast friends and had even grown closer because of it. After all, she was the first to help him come to terms with his sexuality. So in the years following he thought one day he'd meet a nice bloke and settle down and perhaps adopt a variety of ethnic babies. That was ten years ago.

Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts and looked down to focus on the paper when the fireplace flared to life in emerald green flames. Tossing his newspaper on the small table next to his chair, effectively knocking over a day-old cup of cold tea to the carpet along with some junk mail. Harry pinched bridge of his nose in slight annoyance and took a deep breath.

"Harry, you all right mate?" Ron's voice called out from the fireplace.

Harry raised his head to look over at his best friend's face in the embers. "What is it, Ron?" he asked wearily.

Ron eyed him skeptically when he dodged the question before letting it go. Chalking it to Harry simply being irritated that his holiday was being interrupted this early in the morning. "We have a problem."

"Of course we do." Harry muttered.

"People have been going missing in Volterra, Italy. Most of them are muggle tourists-"

"Sounds like a problem for the muggle government." He responded absently.

Ron continued on as if uninterrupted, " -a lot of them seem to be foreign to Italy itself so the government hasn't stepped in-"

"Still a muggle problem."

"-six wizards have gone missing..."

"Sounds like a problem for the Italian Ministry..."

"-two of them are British."

At that Harry froze. Ron smirked wryly, now he had his attention.

"Go on." Harry said, suddenly intrigued.

"The circumstances are unusual. Volterra is known to be widely muggle, there's not even a reasonably sized population of squibs and there are no wizarding folk registered in the area."

"Doesn't mean there isn't one terrorizing the populace. What do the Italian's have to say about it?"

"They want to collaborate."

"...And?" Harry asked impatiently, "Do they have any idea who or what's behind it?"

"If they do, they aren't sharing the details with me. The Head Auror specifically requested that you and only you come speak with them, in person, in Rome tomorrow."

Harry snorted derisively. Yeah, right, like that was going to happen. "Did you tell him I'm on holiday?"

"Yeah, mate, she doesn't care. They seem pretty bloody desperate if you ask me. It's all real sketchy, but it might be worth checking out. Worst comes to worst you can decline and spend the rest of your vacation in Italy."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "You think I should go?"

"Honestly, Harry, I think it might be good for you to get off the isle. And they do sound like they need help, we owe it the families who-

"All right! All right!" Harry exclaimed, shifting uncomfortably as he blocked off the impending guilt trip. Sighing with resignation he glared at Ron. "I guess I'm going to Italy."