I know I normally ship Dramione, but I'm watching Harry Potter 4 and I can't resist writing a short fic on Hermione/Krum, especially after seeing Hermione sitting sadly on the stairs. I'll try to duplicate his accent as best as I can. Sorry if this isn't so good. It was written on a whim.

xxxxx

"Well then, you know what to do next time, don't you?" Hermione screamed.

"And what's that?" Ron screamed back.

"Next time, pluck up the courage to ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!"

"Well that's –that's completely beside the point!" Ron sputtered, backing away from Hermione.

She squealed in frustration and whirled around, almost bumping into Harry. "And you!" she screamed. "Where have you been?" Harry backed away. He'd never seen Hermione so hysterical. "Oh never mind, just go back to your room, both of you!"

As Harry and Ron took off, she took a few steps forward. "Ron, you always ruin everything!"

Incensed, Hermione sat on the stairs and slipped off her shoes, rubbing her tired feet. She rubbed angrily at the tears falling from her eyes, and ended up rubbing off some of her makeup as well. Cursing in frustration, she pulled up her knees and rested her forehead against them, about to burst into tears. Why did Ron always have to be such a prat? She had been looking forward to this night, ever since he had asked her, shy and hesitant, in the library one afternoon. So much so, in fact, that she had special-ordered her dress from Madam Malkin's, and bothered to apply liberal amounts of Sleakeasy's Hair Potion to her hair so it would be neat, and borrow a little makeup from Lavender. She had been so nervous, making her way down to the Great Hall, nearly tripping in her heels. When she had gotten to that last corner, she had nearly run back and hidden in the dormitory. But then she had caught sight of Viktor. He had made his way to her, still shy, but determined. And the way he bowed and taken her hand and delicately placed a kiss on it… She had never met anyone quite like him.

The memory brought a smile to her eyes, and slowly her tears stopped. Tonight had been wonderful. She and Viktor had danced and talked and laughed together like she never, ever had before with a boy. She hadn't even noticed all the hateful glares she'd been getting. He had made her forget all that. He had made her feel special and beautiful and… wanted.

"Hermy-own?"

Hermione looked up, startled. Speak of the devil. Viktor stood above her, dark eyes filled with concern.

"Oh, hello, Viktor." She could have slapped herself. Her voice was still shaking. He held out his hand and she took it, rising unsteadily to her feet.

"Are you… okay?" The casual words fell stiffly from his lips. She smiled at his care.

"I'm all right. Just a little… stressed." She looked at him, the corners of her mouth turning up at his furrowed brow.

"Then… vould you, ah… Vould you like to come vid me? The outside, they say, is…" She laughed at that. He was actually stammering. The world's best Seeker couldn't form a coherent sentence. Honestly, she thought, once you get past that brooding exterior, he's quite cute and charming.

"I would love to," she replied, taking his arm.

Krum led her outside. It was indeed beautiful, if that was what he had meant to say. The fairies were twinkling in the rose bushes and the dew was shining on the grass and thousands of flowers were magically in bloom even though it was not their season. Krum took her hand and drew her to a spot where the fairies were particularly numerous and bright. She blushed at his touch, but followed.

"Why did you bring me here?" she asked, as he took her other hand and drew it to his shoulder.

"I vanted to have…van last dance," he stammered, smiling bashfully at the ground. She looked closely at him and realized he was blushing. She couldn't have stopped the smile that appeared on her face then, even if she had wanted to. Together, they waltzed to the last strains of music coming from the castle. He spun her around and she laughed and it felt like they were floating, up and up, toward the starry night sky. They moved together and Hermione found herself wishing it would never end. But the last few notes echoed in the garden and they stopped. But Krum did not let go.

Hermione found she could not look him in the eye. She stared at the red cloth of his suit, the green grass, the purple hem of her dress, anywhere but his face. But she looked up when she felt him draw her closer to him, envelope her in his arms. It startled her, even scared her a little, but she did not resist. As she felt his warmth against her she found that she… liked it. She was happy. She felt safe.

And then, abruptly, she was pushed away. "I am…sorry," Krum mumbled, looking at his boots. "I know your friends… disapprove of your… being vid me. But… I must tell you, Hermy-own, before the tournament is over and I return to Durmstrang, that I… that you… have made me very happy tonight and I… vell, I…"

"Shh," she whispered, drawing toward him, placing a finger to his lips. He smiled under her fingers and drew her close one again.

"Hermy-own…" he whispered into her hair.

"Shhh," she whispered against his chest. "I know."

"Her… Her-my-ow-nee." He pronounced it slowly, deliberately, struggling to form the sounds of her name. "I vould nevair ask you to a ball as… as a last resort. You vould have been my first choice… my only choice." His arms tightened around her. "I vish I could keep you vid me forever, but vee go to different schools and have different cultures. But I…" and he sighed into her hair and the warmth of his breath sent shivers down her spine. "I vill miss you."

He drew back a little and she was saddened by the loss of his touch, but the sadness faded when his hand cupped her chin and turned her face to his. His eyes sought hers and for a moment she was scared to look into them, for fear of what she might see… the passion, the intensity that she may not be able to match. But she was a Gryffindor through and through, and she found the courage and she looked at him, looked into those dark eyes and saw not barely-controlled passion, but happiness. A happiness she had never seen in that dark, brooding face. A happiness that mirrored what she felt. She laughed, because she could describe this in no other way but to say there were butterflies in her stomach. He frowned down at her laughter and she lifted a hand to his cheek and the furrow in his brow went away. And his face bent lower and those happy eyes drew nearer, and all Hermione could think about was how Viktor was the perfect person to whom she could give her first kiss.

xxxxx

A/N. Short, I know. It was really just written on a whim, anyway.