Edit: Sequal now up entitled When it Starts, check it out!
So this is just a short one-shot that I felt the compulsion to write, as I was craving some Harry Potter goodness and I love myself some Krum. At the moment its just a one-shot but it has the potential to be part of a 'verse as I left the relationship somewhere to go. Its cannon compliant, as long as you ignore that pesky little epilogue. This is kind of rough because I've only read through it once, so sorry for mistakes. Anyway, enjoy the story!
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or make any profit from these stories...unless you count satisfaction as currency then I'd buy the the characters with that to create my own little slash haven...what I can dream right? lol
If the Dursley's had known what their constant malnutrition would do to their nephew once he'd gotten older, what their verbal abuse and constant sneers at anything 'abnormal' would've caused him to become who he became they might've just drowned him once he'd appeared on their doorstep. Or treated him nicely if there was an incentive dangled in their faces for it, but it was unlikely that anyone would've known that one was needed. As it stood, because of the physical neglect he'd endured their nephew would forever be shorter and smaller than most boys his age. As an effect of their verbal abuse he would probably always suffer with a 'hero complex' or what it was in actuality, placing everyone's lives before his own in the order of things. He'd also lack in confidence, something he would gain in time, but it would be far in the future. Then, lastly, their constant abhorrence of abnormal happenings would not only make him stem his own magical talent for most of his schooling, but would also keep him from admitting to anyone, most importantly and devastatingly himself, that he was gay until it was almost too late.
It was this last thing that probably had the most overwhelming effects on the young hero's life, for he only realized this as he was being seduced by his newly-made fiancé, Ginny. The fall out of explaining this to her not only left him with a slap that retained its mark on his face for a week afterwards, but a proverbial slap in the face from the family whose words and deeds would leave marks on his psychological health for far longer.
The ousting from the only real family he'd even known love from, and the knowledge that his own blood didn't want him, left him in a state of misery for weeks if not months. It was how he, someone who hadn't wanted to work as an Auror after seeing so much death in the war, someone with enough money to not need to ever work again, got into the Auror program. A profession where he ended up spending countless hours in overtime, taking too many risks, and building up a reputation as a tough man that scared away friendly faces that might have taken overtures of friendship otherwise. So, he ended up further isolating himself, and it was only 2 years later when he began to feel again.
He hadn't seen the tough Bulgarian seeker since the Triwizard Tournament years ago, in what seemed like another lifetime, hazy memories of imperius and dragons floating in his mind. The years had been kind to the older man though, and at 23 Viktor Krum was at his peak in both physical and political avenues. He was just as tall and broad as the younger man remembered, the air of confidence and power only increasing since their school years.
The first sight of the taller seeker in years was at some ministry event. Usually Harry would only show up at the beginning of these events, giving the minister the right to continue using his name 'for the cause' whatever it may be that night, then he would leave to go home and loose himself in some ancient text he'd found hidden in one of his properties. However, he knew from the minute he walked in that this event was a big one. Usually he hardly even looked at the invitation before jotting down the date and then mailing the tailor his stewards set him up with the invitation, so that they'd known when and what he should wear. He hardly glanced at the garments before putting them on anymore, but he'd even vaguely noticed that they were of a finer material tonight. He now realized he probably should've paid more attention to these details though as the moment he walked in he was assaulted with the rich smell of spices, furs on half the people in attendance and glasses of vodka were floating around along with the regular champagne on the serving platters.
The moment he walked in he was assailed with all this first hand as the minister immediately made his way over with some delegates that sported thick beards and thicker accents. He spent a while with this group, avoiding using his Russian because he was well aware the minister knew none, and happy to take his leave when he was able. It was then that he noticed him, just a few feet away from where he'd been conversing, leaning against a pillar and swirling a glass of clear liquid. He cut a strong figure in dark black fur robes, so sleek and dark you could hardly tell they weren't cloth. He had a finely trimmed goatee instead of the more common beard framing a strong jaw, and his dark eyes gazed around with an intelligence you wouldn't assume from a Quidditch star.
He knew the moment he'd been spotted back though, as those eyes stopped wandering instead to focus on his face, and the hand stopped swirling the glasses contents. Instead the glass was lifted, contents thrown back (he pleaded to some deity that the gulp he made at the sight of that throat working to swallow went unheard), and then the glass was placed upon a tray before the other boy straitened.
He had to restrain himself from wiping his sweaty palms on his dress robes as the other boy approached; mentally scolding himself for losing his cool while he was in the lion's den probably being watched by dozens of reporters looking for the next big scoop. Mentally pushing nightmares headlines screaming 'The Man-Who-Conquered Gay!' back into their cages he plastered his usual shit-eating grin on his face. "Hi Mr. Krum, so nice to see you again," then, mentally thanking wandless and wordless drying charms he held out his hand to shake.
One eyebrow raised in amusement while the corner of his mouth twitched the Bulgarian shook his hand, the grip firm and strong, calloused palms warm against his. "It is nice to see you again Harry," he ignored how his name on those lips sent a shiver up his spine, but by the amusement glittering in those eyes he didn't hide it. "Things seem to have changed quite a bit from our last meeting."
"Yes," mentally cringing at how weak his voice sounded he strengthened his posture. "Things are quite different now. I'm glad to see your doing so well for yourself."
"Indeed," was the mysterious reply he got to that statement got him, a secretive smile dancing in those dark piercing eyes.
Somehow that conversation had turned into something much more amiable and less confusing, and they had struck up a correspondence after the event had ended. Sending letters every few days and catching up on what the other had been doing as though they had both been in the paper often neither trusted the press as an accurate source for such things.
These conversations were like a balm to the wounded spirit of one Harry Potter, and with each and every word he read and wrote on a page he felt his hopes for the future return. A future where he didn't end his life having worked himself to the ground with Auror work or get killed by a vengeful ex-death eater, former friend, or in some freak accident walking past the Unspeakable department and, even though he only talked about his work with Victor or the world around him, he felt his soul lighten because, though he hadn't yet tried it, he felt that if he told Victor some of his worries or concerns the other man would care about them. Would want to help him if he was on the ledge again like he'd been right after the disaster with the Weasley's in the war's aftermath. It was a good feeling.
He was proven right by this theory months later when, getting to see Victor in person for the second time since the banquet, he was questioned about his personal life. People had posed questions like that before, but usually it was reporters wanting headlines or people wanting the ear of the hero in hopes of getting their own agenda fast-tracked. When Victor looked him in the eyes though, and asked him gently why he never spoke of his friends or talked about his friends from school, well, he cracked.
He would swear later it was the Russian accent that pushed him over the edge, but he knew in his heart it was the fact that it was Viktor.
So, he told him. About his confusion growing up, about how hectic things were after the war, how everyone seemed to be getting engaged and everyone had been pushing for him to pop the question. He told Victor how he'd realized he was gay, how it had been the most horrible moment and yet how everything had clicked into place. Then, rushing on to avoid any backlash from that admission he told about how he'd been shunned by his once family short after breaking the engagement. Then he told about how they'd confronted him and demeaned him in every way they verbally could after they found out why he'd done it. He explained his depression, how he'd latched onto being an Auror to make him stop thinking. How he'd been unable to get close to anyone since, not that many had tried to get in touch, how even his old school friends had sided with Ron and Ginny, leaving him rich but alone.
Then, after he'd confessed everything and finally noticed the silent tears streaming down his cheeks, part pain at the memories part relief at finally letting someone know everything, Viktor pulled him into his strong embrace. He held him against his firm chest radiating comforting warmth and let him sob. And after he'd shed all the tears he could the other man whispered comforts into his hair, hands never loosening their hold and rubbing his back soothingly.
They had fallen asleep like that, on Harry's couch an unopened bottle of Vodka courtesy of Viktor untouched at the bar and the biscuits Harry had baked uneaten.
They next day when they woke there was no awkwardness, no fumbles apologies, no need to discuss further.
However both knew that things had changed that night, Harry had learned that Viktor would always be there for him, and Viktor had learned that Harry Potter, savior of everyone but himself, needed him.
There it is :) Review and let me know what you think! Should I add onto this 'verse?