BIG A/N:
Alrighty folks, here we are again, another RoBoC concoction for your reading pleasure. Before we begin, I would just like to bend your ears for a moment, while I explain a little about the origins of this fic.
Way back in May, I posted a fic called 'Taking the Train', which I wrote as a birthday treat for the love of my life, Raffy. For those of you that read it, thank you whole-heartedly for your comments, they were greatly appreciated at the time.
TTT started out as a PWP one-shot, just something fun to put a smile on my girl's face, but, as with so many of the things I do, it grew as I wrote it and took on a life of its own. By the time I had finished, I honestly was not sure whether I would continue with it, or leave it stand alone. Over the intervening months, the story has been growing in my head and so, purely motivated by the desire to keep my baby smiling, I have decided to keep it going.
So anyways, down to business. This fic carries on exactly where Taking the Train left off, and it references it heavily, so if you haven't yet read that story, you should definitely do so now, before you read on – It's archived on my account (ffnet don't like me using URLs in stories so just check my account)
Now, onto the fic, enjoy folks.
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The steam from the engine wafted in great clouds along the platform. Malfoy had no sooner alighted ahead of Hermione than he had disappeared from view entirely. Biting her lip and trying hard not to stumble over the step, Hermione followed him. There was a wash of heat all around her as her foot touched solid ground.
Disgorged passengers from the train thronged the platform, a sea of black cloaks moved before Hermione's eyes. Where was Malfoy? She couldn't see him anywhere. Was he so ashamed at having kissed her that he couldn't bear to be near her any longer? Hermione looked around for him. Part of her hoped that he was embarrassed for the way he had treated her, getting her drunk and then taking advantage of her like that. He should be ashamed. He shouldn't have done it. Why had he done it? Had it happened at all?
'No…no…stop it Hermione,' she admonished herself, 'It did happen…he did…he did kiss you…the only question is, why?'
She nearly laughed out loud at the thought, the only question? That was a joke. Her head was full of questions, each less pleasant than the last. They all jockeyed and shuffled about inside her mind, seeking her attention. The cloud of drunken drowsiness in her head was starting give way to a headache now. The pain, coupled with the last, lingering effects of the wine, left her feeling utterly befuddled. What the hell was Malfoy playing at? Had her friends betrayed her? Who could she trust?
"…ninny!" a familiar voice called from somewhere in the crowd to her left. Hermione turned and her eyes fell on Viktor as he came striding through the crowd toward her, beaming wide and waving as he called her name. Instantly, Hermione felt her stomach churn as she realised just how alone she really was. Here she stood, stranded in a foreign country of which she had no real knowledge, with an arrogant prat for an escort and a head full of endless questions and doubts. One of those doubts was embodied in the figure walking toward her now.
There he was, Viktor Krum, as tall and as handsome as she remembered him. There was her friend, her first boyfriend on top of that, the boy that had given her her first real kiss, and been the first person ever to show any real interest in her as a girl.
'Ten galleons,' Malfoy's words came back to haunt her. Had Viktor's courtship of her been just an act? Had it all been a charade he made up to win a lousy ten-galleon bet? With those thoughts, Hermione felt herself become angry once again, and she didn't try to stop herself this time. The anger was pushing the pain and doubt aside, letting her think clearly for a moment. She didn't know if the whole bet story was true or not, but she knew one way to find out. She'd ask him straight out and he would answer, oh yes, he would answer. She would make him answer.
Hermione shook herself. Rationality followed clear thought, and fear followed rationality. Was finding out the truth such a good idea? Asking Viktor right here, right now, seemed a callous thing to do. What if it was a lie? Even asking the question would show him how little she trusted him and, regardless of the answer, it was bound to start a row between them. Did she really want that to happen mere seconds after they had seen each other for the first time in almost two years? Ok, so the question was valid, and the answer was damned important to her, but, as his friend, didn't she owe him the benefit of the doubt, at least for a little while? On the other hand, could she in all conscience allow her friend to believe that all was well between them when it wasn't?
Such were her thoughts as Viktor stopped in front of her and, without a moment's hesitation, pulled her into a tight hug. On reflex, Hermione dropped the bags she was carrying and returned his hug, albeit half-heartedly. She even managed to make herself smile at him as he drew back and beamed down at her. Viktor's smile faded and he moved forward as though to give her a kiss. An alarm bell rang in her head. She panicked and sought a way to stop him without seeming obvious.
"Hi, Viktor," she said quickly, and rather more loudly than she had intended.
A moment of surprise crossed Viktor's face, but it passed as his smile returned, "Hello…" he coughed, "Her-my-oh-knee," he said slowly and carefully.
At this, a real smile caught her lips. "You've been practicing!" she said, her doubts momentarily forgotten as she recalled his endless unsuccessful attempts to say her name properly.
Viktor nodded and smiled, "Da," he said, "I havv. Voz it good?"
"Very good," Hermione smiled, "It's perfect." Without thinking, she stood on her toes and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. In an instant, the peace in her mind shattered. The monster returned and started tearing into her again, telling her that this was not her friend, that he had betrayed her in the worst way that she could imagine. That her 'friend' didn't consider her a friend at all, that she was just a prize that he was still trying to win. She tried to ignore her doubts, she willed herself to think of something else, but she just couldn't.
The distress in her mind must have shown on her face because Viktor's smile faded. He frowned at her, "Iz everyting ok?" he asked.
Hermione shook herself, "What?" she shut her eyes and took a breath, "Oh…yes…yes," this wasn't the time, she told her self, not now, "Everything's fine, Viktor."
"You seem upset?"
"No," she shook her head again, "No…just a little tired, that's all. It's been a long day," she said. 'And then some,' she added miserably to herself.
"Yes," Viktor said, smiling again, though not as wide as before, "You must be tired. Come," he turned and beckoned her to move on, "Zis vay…I vill take them," he added quickly when Hermione made to stoop for her bags.
The stubborn streak in her heart made Hermione resist his chivalrous gesture. The bags weren't that heavy after all, Malfoy having taken the largest ones. Hermione felt more than capable of carrying the rest herself and so, to prove her point, she bent down quickly and snatched up one of the bags before Viktor could pick it up. In deference to the fact that she was tired, however, and the fact that Viktor was quite a bit bigger than she was, she made sure to only take hold of the smallest bag, leaving the rest for him.
The crowd on the platform had thinned slightly during their conversation, but not so much as to make it easy to navigate their way to the gate. Hermione scanned the crowd around them. Wherever she looked, people seemed to be staring at her all of a sudden, though she had no idea why.
"Juzt a little further," Viktor's voice sounded behind Hermione as she walked on, lost in thought.
"Oh…right," she answered. Then she remembered whom she was walking with. Viktor was famous in Bulgaria, big Quidditch star that he was. His face decorated hundreds upon hundreds of bedroom walls across Europe. She saw three teenage girls hiding behind their hands and giggling as she and Viktor passed by.
'Care to trade places?' she voiced the question internally, and she meant it too. At that moment, she would gladly have traded places with any one of them, anything to be somewhere else, to be somebody else. Despite, or perhaps because of the uncertainty in her heart, Viktor's presence was making her feel uncomfortable, like she was trapped, or on display, a trophy on a superstar's arm, so to speak. The idea sickened her.
Hermione continued to watch the crowd. She didn't know why, the stares were really starting to get to her. Her normal reaction would be to ignore them, to rise above such petty things. Not today though, it was as though she was looking for something, or someone. She nearly tripped up on her own foot when it hit her. Malfoy! She was actually looking for Malfoy amid the crowd. What the hell was wrong with her? Why was she looking for that inconsiderate idiot when here beside her was a boy that had shown her nothing but kindness since the day they met? A sideways glance at Viktor gave her answer when she felt the stomach drop from inside her. No matter what he may or may not have done to betray her trust, right now she just wasn't comfortable in Viktor's company.
'Ok,' she thought, 'but would Malfoy be any better?'
The honest answer, which worried her more than the question, was that she just didn't know. She was all at sea here, and was desperately trying to tread the waters. In any case, it was irrelevant; there was no sign of any blonde heads amongst the crowd. Where the hell was he?
"Vat is the matter?" Viktor laid a hand on her shoulder, making her jump in fright.
"I was just…" Hermione began, then paused when she saw the look of concern on Viktor's face, "Malfoy," she said sternly, "I was just wondering where he had gone off to."
"Draco…yes," Viktor nodded, "I passed him a vew moments bevore I met you. He too vas a bit tired I tink," Viktor's eyes narrowed as he looked carefully at Hermione's face for a moment. When she turned away from his stare, he said, "Draco sed something about needing to use ze bathroom. He sed he vould meet us at ze car."
A hard knot formed in Hermione's stomach as she joined the end of the queue of people that were making their way out of the station. The car? Viktor had a car? That hadn't occurred to her either. How far away was his house? She had no idea. She hadn't ever been there before, always finding excuses not to accept his invitations to join him for a holiday. Car? It struck her as odd that a wealthy pureblood wizard like Viktor would use muggle transportation. She had assumed that he would have prepared some other means of conveying them from the station to his home. After her experience on the train, the idea of being stuck in a small space with Viktor for who knows how long made her sick to her stomach, or was that the wine? Either way, the idea of travelling by car didn't make her feel good at all.
A kind looking inspector stopped Hermione at the gate leading out of the station. The elderly witch smiled at her and spoke to her in a soft voice. Hermione didn't understand the words she heard, but she had travelled by train often enough to get the idea. The inspector waited and struck up a slightly gooey sounding conversation with Viktor while Hermione blushed in embarrassment and rummaged about in her pockets to find her ticket.
Finding it at last, and with a quiet, "Sorry," Hermione handed the ticket to the inspector, who examined it briefly before handing it back and waving Hermione through the gate. She heard Viktor exchange a few parting words with the inspector, before he hurried to catch up.
Through the gate, Hermione found herself in the main terminal building. All around her, people were milling about, all of them caught up in their own business, and all of them, she noticed, were wizards. Hermione was surprised to see so many magical folk in one place, with no apparent fear of being seen by muggles. Come to think of it… "Where are all the muggles?" she asked, turning toward Viktor.
"Muggles?" Viktor seemed confused.
"Yes, muggles," Hermione gestured around her, "This is a train station isn't it? Muggles use trains too, so where are they?"
"Oh," Viktor shook his head as he caught on, "Zis is ze vizards platfom. Ze muggles use ze other vone," he pointed off vaguely into the distance. Hermione squinted as she followed his gesture, and could just about make out a large wooden sign bearing a large directional arrow, beside which had been written,
'Caution: Non-Magical Area Ahead.'
As she watched, the writing on the sign changed, the letters rearranging themselves into a different message. Hermione couldn't read this one, but it was in German by they look of it. A few seconds later, the letters moved again. Hermione recognised the Cyrillic alphabet and assumed that the message must now be in Russian. She nodded to herself as she caught on, the sign was multilingual, and told the same message over and over, just in different languages. This made sense, from what Hermione had read about Sofia, this station was the main point of arrival for all foreign witches and wizards who visited the city. Having the signs in multiple languages was only polite to the tourists.
The sign had changed to what looked like Hieroglyphics by the time Hermione turned away to look at Viktor once more. He smiled and pointed of in the direction of what appeared to be the building's main exit. Hermione nodded and gestured for him to take the lead.
They walked in silence out of the terminal. Hermione let a little distance open between them, enough so that the persistent stares no longer appeared to be aimed at her. Once or twice, Viktor looked over his shoulder as though he was about to say something. Each time, though, Hermione deliberately avoided looking him in the eye, and he would simply close his mouth and turn away again. Hermione felt bad for doing this, it seemed rude, but she didn't have a choice. In her heart, she knew that there was only one conversation that she was capable of having with him, and she just couldn't face that right now.
Thus far, this trip had been nothing like she had expected it to be, to say the least. Only this morning she had been absolutely bursting to talk to Viktor. It had been ages since their last real conversation, and she had been eager to catch up. From what she could see in his face, it appeared that Viktor felt the same way. If he knew there was something wrong other than her being tired, he didn't let on, but it was clear that he was upset and maybe even a little disappointed at her less than enthusiastic reaction to seeing him again. Hermione couldn't help but feel bad for him because of that. He'd been so excited when she had told him that she would finally be accepting his offer to come and stay with him, that the fact that she was only coming because of Dumbledore's order barely seemed to register.
Hurting Viktor, even this much, stung Hermione's heart, but yet, try as she might, she just couldn't bring herself to strike up a conversation with him. Fear kept her silent more than anything else. Fear of making herself look like a complete idiot if this turned out to be nothing but a sick joke on Malfoy's part and, worse still, fear of how much it would hurt for her to hear that was true from Viktor's own lips. She simply couldn't imagine how much that would hurt, and that scared the hell out of her. Still, she couldn't go on like this. Sooner or later she would have to just ask him about the bet. She wouldn't threaten him…she would just ask him. Viktor wouldn't lie to her, not to her face, she felt sure of that. In his heart he was an honourable man, or he believed himself to be at least. He'd tell her the truth if she asked him, even if he damned their friendship in the process.
By the time Viktor held the door open for her to step through into the warm evening air, Hermione had all but worked up the nerve to ask him and get it over with. If that meant that they had to have the entire conversation at the roadside, then so be it.
Once through the door, though, all thoughts of Viktor and the bet vanished from her mind in astonishment. Firstly, there was the car, which Viktor had mentioned with no more aplomb than if he had been referring to a beat up old banger. 'The car' turned out to be a very expensive looking antique town car, the kind that Hermione had only ever seen in the crinkly old movies that her father loved so much. It was matte silver in colour, easily twice as long as a normal car, with an exposed front seat for the driver and an enclosed rear passenger cabin. A chauffeur, dressed from head to toe in pale grey was standing smartly at attention by the rear door, awaiting their approach. Breathtaking as it was though, the car wasn't what surprised her most.
Standing between her and the car, looking thoroughly annoyed, was Malfoy. The reason for his foul expression was immediately clear. A large white bird was perched on his left shoulder and was making a rather concentrated effort to bite his ear off.
"Hedwig?" Hermione exclaimed, recognising Harry's Snowy Owl instantly.
"Hedvig?" Viktor asked her.
"Harry's owl," Hermione answered absently.
"Here," Malfoy said with a scowl, stepping toward Hermione. Hedwig turned to face her and clicked her beak in recognition as Hermione held out her arm. Without hesitation, Hedwig abandoned Malfoy's ear and fluttered from his shoulder. Rather than looking relieved or grateful, Malfoy simply shook his head and then turned smartly at Viktor's request to help him with the bags. Hermione saw the tiniest trace of emotion darken his eyes for an instant when Viktor wasn't looking. That was the second time in fifteen minutes that the mere sight of Viktor had caused that reaction in him and, odd though it was, seeing him react to Viktor's presence like that actually made Hermione feel slightly better about her situation.
Hedwig let out a low warble to attract Hermione's attention. She turned and looked at the bird curiously, "What are you doing here?" Hermione asked, gently stroking Hedwig's chest with the back of her finger as both boys moved off to help the chauffeur stow the luggage. Hedwig turned her huge amber eyes to look at Hermione and stuck out her leg as though to answer the question. Hermione looked down and noticed the small parcel that had been tied there. That too was confusing. The parcel must be for her, but what would Harry be sending her?
Hermione undid the parcel and Hedwig shook her wings in thanks. 'Sofia is a long way from Ottery St Catchpole,' Hermione mused, 'the poor thing must be exhausted.'
Resolving to make sure that Hedwig got some food and a good rest before she attempted the return flight, Hermione turned her attention to the package. It was small, about two inches across and less than half an inch thick, wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with a matte silver ribbon. Hermione had no idea what it was, or why Harry would be sending her a present at all. She looked at Hedwig's other leg, thinking that there may be a note attached to explain, but there was none. Turning the parcel over in her hand, however, she noticed that there was a card attached to it, sealed in a separate envelope that was tucked under the ribbon. Careful not to jostle Hedwig too much, she tugged the envelope free and opened it. Inside, the card read:
'When in private we come to dream,
In the mirror we set the scene,
Love is a whisper, waiting to be spoken,
Look within to find the token.'
Hermione read the short verse over and over, and at each reading the same thought occurred to her, 'Harry sent this?'
It didn't make any sense to her. Harry simply was not the poetic type. Certainly he hadn't written it, though she didn't recognise it as a quotation. Puzzled, she turned her attention to the parcel. Hedwig clucked at her in annoyance at being shaken as Hermione tore off the paper to reveal yet another mystery in the form of an ornate silver make up case, shaped like an oyster's shell. This again was not like Harry. Why would he buy her make-up? Frowning, Hermione opened it, half expecting it to turn out to be the latest Weasley Wheeze, meant as a joke, but it wasn't. Inside, it was just a normal make-up case, with a polished mirror in the lid and a soft sponge sitting on top of a cake of pale powder. She clicked it shut and turned it over and over in her hand, seeking some sort of justification for the bizarre gift.
"Zat is pretty," Viktor said. Hermione looked up to see him standing beside her once more. Malfoy had already taken his seat in the rear of the car. Viktor leaned over slightly to examine the compact in her hand, "Harry sent it to you?"
"Apparently," Hermione answered, looking once more at the card in her other hand. Then, as though someone had turned on a light in her head, she realised what it was, "I mean yes," she said quickly, trying to hide her surprise, "Yes, Harry sent it to me," she shrugged, "Just a little present."
"Oh," Viktor said, seeming slightly deflated, "Vell," he added, "I haff a little something for you asvell. It iz at home," he seemed mildly annoyed as he said that, "I vas going to give it to you later."
"Oh right," Hermione said, not bothering to pay attention to his male posturing, she kept her mind focussed on double-checking the card and the compact. After a moment, she shook her head at her own stupidity for not realising what it was immediately, and then carefully placed both of them into her pocket. Instantly, a warm sense of contentment washed over her. For the first time since she had set foot on that train, she felt sure of herself.
Viktor looked at her small but solid smile with a curious expression on his face, then he seemed to shake himself, "Shall…ve go then?"
"Yes," Hermione answered, her mind already racing, "I suppose we should."
The chauffer held the door open for them as Hermione clambered into the car. Malfoy seemed to be ignoring her completely now, though she did notice that he was actually watching her reflection in the glass of the window. What was the deal with him?
After a moment's consideration, Hermione opted for the seat opposite Malfoy. She set Hedwig on her knee and smiled down at her, glad to have one genuine friend nearby, if only for a little while. The idea of keeping her around occurred to her, Harry wouldn't mind…she swallowed hard at that thought, but then shunted it aside.
Malfoy turned to look at her as she sat down. He seemed expectant, as though he was waiting for her to say something. Hermione merely returned his gaze as steadily as she could. The car rocked slightly as Viktor climbed inside and settled himself in the seat next to her. This, of course, was to be expected. Hermione looked from one boy to the other, from one problem to another and felt her stomach clench, but just for a moment. Her hand pressed against the lump in her pocket, and she felt herself relax. This trip was not a holiday – she had to keep her priorities straight. Unpleasant conversations would have to wait, because she had a job to do first.
"Nice car, Viktor," she said in a forced cheerful tone.
Viktor smiled wide, "Yes," he said, sounding relieved, "it iz an antique that has been in my family for many years."
"Could be a little roomier though," Hermione jumped slightly at the sound of Malfoy's voice. She turned to see him stretch his legs out, crossing his ankles as they came to rest under the seat between Hermione and Viktor.
Viktor looked at Malfoy with a mixture of surprise and annoyance, "Comfortable?" he asked.
Malfoy shrugged and turned his head once more to look out the window. The car fell into silence, Hermione having run out of what little momentum she had built up. There was almost no noise from the engine as the car moved off, pulling out and merging effortlessly with the stream of cars leaving the station. Hedwig, exhausted from her long flight, tucked her head under her wing and slept. Hermione gave her a gentle stroke with her finger and bit her lip nervously.
'Right,' she thought at last as the car swung right onto an arched, stone bridge, 'to business.' "Viktor," she forced her voice to sound more relaxed than she felt, "Did you get the message Professor Dumbledore sent last week?"
Viktor blinked for a moment, but then nodded, "I did."
"And did you managed to speak to Professor Ivanova about it?"
Viktor scowled slightly, "Only wery breivly I'm afraid," he said, "She iz a very busy voman."
"I understand that," Hermione said firmly, "So does Professor Dumbledore, but this is an important matter. Professor Ivanova must see that?"
"Actually," Viktor shrugged, "I'm not sure that she does. Since ze end of ze var, Durmstrang Academy haz been in uproar. Between ze government enquiries into ze alleged Death Eater gatherings in ze castle, and ze criminal accusationz made against half ze staff, ze Professor iz having a hard enough time keeping ze school open at all. To her, taking part in something as trivial as ze Tri-Wizard Tournament hardly seems important," Malfoy made a small noise in the back of his throat at that. Viktor paused and looked over at him. Hermione turned to see him still staring pointedly out of the window. Despite the fact that he clearly knew they were looking at him, Malfoy made no audible comment. After a moment, Viktor continued, "Prestige," he said, "hardly matters when ze wery survival of ze school iz threatened."
Hermione dragged her eyes away from Malfoy, "It isn't about prestige, Viktor," she said, "The war caused a lot of pain and suffering for everyone involved, but it's over now. It's time to heal the wounds."
"Perhaps," Viktor said, "but do you really believe that ze Tri-Wizard Tournament is ze best way to do that? Ze last one ended in disaster after all."
Hermione nodded, remembering how the last tournament had indeed been a disaster. Far from being the great, unifying gesture it had been intend to be, it had instead been a wedge, driving the participating parties even further apart. Indeed, there were those in England to this day that laid the blame for the war getting out of control as it had squarely on the organisers of the Tri-Wizard Tournament at Hogwarts, the very tournament that had led to a certain betting school…
'No, Hermione,' she thought, 'Stick to the point here!' "But," she said, "that's why holding the tournament again is the perfect way to begin the healing process. It will give people something to look forward to, something to cheer about, something good that they can all share."
"Only if it isn't a repeat of ze last time," Viktor again reminded her.
Hermione had to fight not to roll her eyes. Viktor's ego clearly still carried the scars of losing the last tournament. It had been such a personal investment on his behalf, a means of recovering his lost grace at having lost the Quidditch World Cup final earlier that year. Still, Viktor's personal feelings were hardly relevant to this discussion. "Viktor," Hermione said, letting her voice carry an edge, "The last one failed because of Voldemort, now that he's gone, there is no reason to believe that this one won't go perfectly."
A visible shudder ran through Viktor when he heard Voldemort's name. This was a surprise to Hermione. She had always believed him to be strong enough to be above that silly superstition. Her eyes moved to Malfoy, he had turned to look at her now, but he turned away as soon as he saw her looking. Hermione frowned at him slightly, but put the issue aside, and concentrated instead on Viktor.
"Besides," she said, "this tournament won't be like the last one," she began to tick off her points on her fingers, "We aren't holding it at Hogwarts exclusively, rather we plan on moving the challenges from school to school. The judges for each challenge will be different, and will all be impartial. We are even changing the rules of entry to prevent any form of tampering with the selection of the champions."
"That iz all vell and good," Viktor sighed, "but unfortunately, I am not ze vone that you vill have to convince vith your arguments. Ze final decision vill rest solely vith Professor Ivanova."
"I know," Hermione said, "that's why I'm here, to meet her and present Professor Dumbledore's proposals face to face."
"Yes, I know," Viktor, "Though it still puzzles me. Vy is it dat ze Professor sent you rather zan coming himself?"
'Right,' Hermione couldn't stop herself from thinking, 'As if your government would be about to let Albus Dumbledore make a quiet visit to Durmstrang!' "Well," she shrugged slightly, "He obviously would have liked to, but he just couldn't get away."
"I see," Viktor said, "but, such a proposal vould sound better coming from ze horse's mouth as it ver, don't you agree?"
"He has authorised me to speak for him on this matter," Hermione put on her most confident smile, "I'm sure I can accurately convey his thoughts and wishes to Professor Ivanova."
"Yes, yes," Viktor said quickly, "I am sure you vill."
"When do you expect I can meet her?" she asked.
Now it was Viktor's turn for an evasive shrug, "I do not know," he said, "That is, I am unsure of ven she vill be able to see you vith adequate time to properly hear the details ov your proposal."
Hermione narrowed her eyes, "Didn't you give Professor Dumbledore your assurance that you could arrange a meeting?"
"I did," Viktor nodded, "and I vill, I give you my vord," Malfoy gave another quiet snort, which Viktor and Hermione both chose to ignore, "It vill just be a matter of patience. Surely you are not so pressed for time for that to be a problem?"
Hermione felt her stomach clench. She knew what he was trying to do. For years he had been trying to get her to come and visit him and, now that she was finally here, he wasn't about to just let her drop in and then vanish. He was dragging his feet in organising this meeting just to keep her here, just so he could…just to spend time with her, she corrected herself, just about managing to stop her treacherous mind from kindling her temper once again. Hermione looked at Viktor and fought the urge to lie to him and tell him that she was indeed in a hurry. The truth of the matter was though, that Professor Dumbledore had given her very specific instructions. She was to come to Bulgaria with this proposal, and stay put until she had seen Professor Ivanova.
The new headmistress of Durmstrang was, just as Viktor had said, a very busy woman. Professor Dumbledore had sent five messages to her over the last two months, requesting a face-to-face meeting, all of which had been refused. Dumbledore, of course, suspected that the refusals had been in part motivated by his current lack of favour in the governmental circles of Europe, where he had been labelled as being responsible for all the damage wrought by the war. Hermione felt a twinge of anger at that. It wasn't right and it wasn't fair, but, as Dumbledore had pointed out, there was nothing to be done about it. 'People need a scapegoat,' he had said on more than one occasion, 'they need someone to blame.' If hating me makes them feel even a little better after the trouble of the last few years, then let it be so.'
The peace and calm with which he had said those words still gave Hermione chills to this day. He had accepted the blame for a thousand terrible crimes, which he had not committed, which he had in fact tried with all his might to prevent. Hermione looked at Viktor, he was still waiting for his answer. She shook her head, "No," she said, "no hurry at all."
"Good," Viktor smiled, "I am glad."
Hermione nodded and forced herself to smile. 'Dumbledore,' she told herself, 'do it for Dumbledore.' Her mind turned to the make-up compact in her pocket and her mind settled as she remembered what had brought her here. The Professor had asked her to do this, not out of any desire to lessenthe hatred he was suffering, but out of a genuine desire to help. After all he had done, after all he had given for others, he was still giving? Viktor, with his fame and personal influence, was her only link to Professor Ivanova, and if she had to put up with her nagging doubts about him while pretending everything was fine in order to get the job done, then that is precisely what she would do. It would be hard, but she'd do it, somehow.
Malfoy uncrossed and then re-crossed his legs before her. In doing so, his foot brushed against hers. Hermione turned to look at him. He was looking back at her, with no expression on his face whatsoever. The light streaming through the window beside him caught his eyes and made them sparkle for a moment. Hermione took a breath as he stared at her, and felt her tension ease a little as though he was drawing it out of her. He continued to stare at her until, believing him to be waiting for something, she gave him a tiny nod. Malfoy returned the nod, the gesture almost unnoticeable, and then turned to the window once again. Hermione turned to look outside too.
The city had fallen away gradually, the tightly packed buildings had given way to wide open spaces and tree covered country lanes. As they made their way down a wide, empty road, lined with ancient looking oak trees, Hermione was astonished to see what looked like a rudimentary Quidditch pitch erected beside a towering, four storey house that looked more like a castle to her eyes. At least a dozen teenagers were on broomsticks, zooming back and forth above the pitch, thoroughly engrossed in their game, despite being in plain sight of the road.
"Only vizards live here," Viktor said behind her, "The more vealthy vones at least," he continued as she turned back to him, "Ven ze muggles tried to seize all ze land from the vealthy fifty years ago, ve all moved here. This entire area," he gestured around him, "iz protected from muggle interference, in much ze same vay as your Hogvarts iz."
"Oh right," Hermione said, "So, you live round here then?"
Viktor nodded to the window. Hermione turned to see, as if on cue, that they were slowing down and turning off the road into a short driveway. She couldn't see the house that stood beyond them though. Craning her neck, she could just about make out the winding gravel driveway as it snaked up and over a small hillock.
"Velcome, at last, to my home," Viktor said as the car crested the hill and carried on down the other side. Viktor's house came into view, but all that Hermione saw was a vast, black shadow set against the setting sun. Hermione couldn't stop herself from tensing as he laid his hand warmly on her shoulder. Her eyes darted to Malfoy, who was now looking very hard out of the window. The car slowed, coming to a stop in the shadow of the house. Almost before they had stopped, Viktor was out the door and had turned to offer Hermione his hand as she alighted.
Hermione looked at his hand for a moment, and swallowed, "Here," she said, "Can you hold Hedwig for a tick?"
Hermione gently roused Hedwig and then set her carefully onto Viktor's waiting arm. Malfoy wordlessly withdrew his legs so that she could pass. Hermione couldn't help but take a sideways look at him as she climbed out of the car. His eyes were still on the window, looking out now at the unadorned lawn of the hill that hid Viktors's home from the road. Shaking her head slightly, she stepped out onto the gravel of the driveway dusted herself off before reaching out to take Hedwig back. Viktor moved off to speak to the driver, who had busied himself at the rear of the car, leaving Hermione momentarily alone to get her first real look at his house, and a memorable look it was.
Looking up at the house, Hermione was forced to conclude that it was, on first impression, the single most hideous building that she had ever seen. Before her, two black oak doors, lined with heavy iron studs stood closed. One look at them and you instantly knew that this place was not a place where weakness was tolerated. The doors were set into a massive granite façade that stood a full thirty feet tall, reinforcing the image of sheer, brute strength. The solid blocks of raw stone that made up the wall were fitted together at jagged and awkward looking angles, giving the impression that they house had not been built so much as it had been rather clumsily carved out of a single, massive lump of rock. Hermione's eyes followed the arched line of the doorway and upward to the focal point of the façade, to where all attempts at subtlety had been abandoned.
Standing atop of the wall, was an immense, imposing stone gargoyle, carved into the image of a raging Minotaur. Hermione shuddered as she looked into its dead, black eyes. She remembered Viktor telling her that the image of the bull headed man was part of his family heritage, but, as she looked at the face of that image, twisted into a look of pure rage, she couldn't fathom why anyone would cling to such a heritage.
Dragging her eyes away from the Minotaur, Hermione stepped back and attempted to take in the rest of the house. On either side of the central façade, the wings of the house, again carved out of raw granite, swept outward and forward, ending on either side of the hill in identical raised towers, each capped by a single stone bull.
Hermione turned and realised that Viktor had returned. He was clearly expecting some comment from her. She cleared her throat and said, "It's…lovely," the word almost caught in her throat.
Viktor chuckled at her, "You do not lie vell," he patted her on the back before stepping forward, "Ze house is most certainly not pretty. It iz ze end result of my late grandfaser's attempt to 'express himself'," he paused and shook his head, "He dezined and built eversing you see, just bevore he died. That voz almost forty yearz ago, and fazer vill not hear of changing it."
"That's his grandfather's idea self expression?" Hermione jumped slightly as Malfoy whispered in her ear, she hadn't realised he was behind her, "What's that?" he said, clearly meaning the Minotaur, "A self portrait?"
Despite herself, Hermione felt the corner of her lip twitch slightly. She managed not to smile, but it was a close thing.
Viktor opened the door with a grand flourish and then turned back to face them. "Come," he said, gesturing them inside, "Gregor vill take care of ze bags."
The chauffeur, Gregor, Hermione assumed, was still thoroughly engaged in emptying the boot of the car. She took one step forward and then stopped as, with one look at the house, Hedwig took off from her arm and made for the nearest clump of trees. Hermione watched her go and found herself hoping that she wasn't going far. She suddenly felt alone again.
Just as the owl banked around the easternmost end of the house and disappeared from sight, Malfoy pressed up against her and placed a hand gently but firmly on the small of her back. She shivered at his touch, but didn't resist as he ushered her into motion. He followed behind her as they passed through the doors and entered the main foyer.
"This," Malfoy whispered in her ear as they came to a halt inside, "is overkill!" Looking around at the décor, Hermione was inclined to agree with his statement. It appeared that the Viktor's grandfather had decorated the inside of the house as well. Everywhere she looked she saw bulls. There were statues, paintings, and tapestries all around her. Beneath her feet, the tiles mosaic on the floor depicted a stylised set of golden bullhorns, set against a sea of black. The image was again repeated in the two great, curving staircases that rose before them, framing the central corridor ahead that seemed to stretch on forever. The tapering gold handrails on either stair caught the sunlight that streamed in from the high windows set into the cupola above, blinding the entering visitor and burning the bull horns into their eyes, and their memories.
For his part, Viktor didn't appear to have any opinion about the distinct Taurean overdose that the house had received. He strode ahead of them, giving them a brief rundown of the history of the house. He seemed to be warming up for a full tour, something that didn't appeal to Hermione at all. Her excuse about being tired had not been entirely untrue, and the dull ache in her head had persisted throughout their car journey. Just when he was about to say something, Viktor turned to face both herself and Malfoy.
"But…vat am I thinking? You are both tired, and I doubt you have any interest in my ramblings about my home."
Malfoy shrugged and made no comment. Hermione, however, felt compelled to speak, "No, Viktor, it isn't that we aren't interested…"
"Please," Viktor waved her down, "It iz ok, I understand. Ve can save the tour for the morning, yes? Ven you are better rested?"
Hermione was about to argue, but then realised that he had said just what she was going to say. "Ok then," she said with a smile.
Viktor nodded, "Very vell," he paused as though an idea had just occurred to him, "Perhaps you vould enjoy a nightcap? Something to settle ze nerves and help you sleep better?"
Hermione opened her mouth to decline this offer immediately, but Malfoy was quicker than her, "Sounds good," he said, sounding genuine for the first time since they had left the train.
Viktor nodded and turned to Hermione. She still had a mind to object, but, facing two opponents now instead of one, she decided that it would be simpler and easier to simply agree rather than argue the point. So she nodded and allowed Viktor to lead her by the arm as they set off down the long corridor. Malfoy walked a step behind them, and to Hermione's surprise, he struck up a conversation with Viktor, sounding airy and even cheerful. Hermione gave up trying to figure him out. She didn't speak to either of them as Viktor led them down the hallway to a warm, cosy little study.
Along the way, she paid just enough attention to the conversation going on around her to learn that Viktor's parents were taking an extended holiday, touring around the Far East for the summer. Viktor hadn't heard from them in some time it seemed, but he wasn't concerned about their safety in the least. Apparently, it was normal for members of his family to be totally out of touch with one another for long periods when they were apart. Malfoy seemed to accept this without question, but it did strike her as odd. In her family, things were very different. Her parents had always kept in regular contact with her when she was at school, and she with them. That was what families were supposed to do in her mind, though apparently, that was not what they all did.
On a normal day, Hermione would have been very interested in the subject of Viktor's family; he had never spoken of them in his letters. Today, however, was not a normal day. She was bewildered, she was confused and she was hurt, but above all right now, she was tired. She wanted nothing more than to fall asleep and have an end to this horrible day. Before that, however, she had to endure what seemed to be an interminable conversation about everything from the state of the trans-European rail system, to the new range of brooms on offer from the Nimbus Company. All of this while she sipped on her drink, which turned out to be wine. She scowled slightly as she tasted it, realising that she had come full circle, this being where her problems had started.
Malfoy's earlier foul mood seemed to have vanished the second that alcohol had been mentioned. Twenty minutes ago, he had been acting as though he was utterly disgusted to be here, and now he looked as though he was having the time of his life. His ability to switch mental gears so smoothly when it suited him both impressed and annoyed her immensely. She found herself staring at him when he wasn't looking at her. How could he be so at ease here all of a sudden? She had seen the look on his face earlier, one of pure, undiluted hatred. How could he bury that so completely? How dare he be able to do that?
As she watched him, Malfoy raised his nearly empty glass to his lips, but Viktor put out a hand and stopped him from drinking. Turning to Hermione, he raised his own glass, "A toast," he said, and then waited for Hermione and Malfoy to raise theirs before he spoke again, "To old friends," he said, his eyes never straying from Hermione.
Putting on a forced smile and fighting past the dull ache in her head, Hermione nodded her acceptance of the toast, and then drained the last of her glass in one go. The wine swirled around inside her mouth before she swallowed. It seemed to start a small fire in her stomach, spreading heat through her whole body. She was put instantly in mind of being curled up in a comfy blanket in front of a warm fire, with not a care in the world and all the time she needed to sleep…just to sleep.
"Vell then," Viktor clapped his hands together, rousing her slightly, "I suppose it iz time vor both of you to rest. Come," he offered Hermione his arm, "I vill show you to your rooms."
Hermione looked at his arm and, blinking hard, she accepted it and allowed Viktor to help her out of the chair. The journey from the study to the room Viktor had prepared for her seemed to last forever. At each step, she had to stifle a yawn. There may have been further conversation between Malfoy and Viktor, but she didn't take any of it in. At last, Viktor stopped outside a doorway and declared that they had reached their destination. He showed her inside, pointing out the location of the bathroom and the wardrobes, which now contained her belongings. She spotted her document bag sitting, with the flap open, at the end of the bed. It had clearly been opened and the contents examined. That should have sparked a reaction in her, it was an invasion of her privacy after all, but her head was so fuzzy with exhaustion that she couldn't bring herself to even mention it. It was all she could do to bid Viktor and Malfoy goodnight, and then stumble to the bed before her legs gave way beneath her.
Hermione crawled to the head of the bed and knocked a wrapped package aside, the present Viktor had mentioned earlier. She would open it later, she thought, much later. Right now, all she could focus on was how soft the bed was beneath her, and how much she wanted to roll over and sleep. The last image she saw before the world slipped away was her own reflection in the dressing table mirror, staring sleepily back at her.