Author's note:

So this plot bunny has been heckling me for weeks now. It was a raging, rabid plot bunny that sunk its teeth into me before turning into the lovey, dovey ball of fluff that this story became.

It is a much shorter fic than you would typically get from me. The finished story is roughly 10k with each of the five chapters being around 2k-2500 words, give or take. It is a completed story and I am planning on updating the story every week. Though I might be convinced to update more often!

An enormous thank you to Rachael for betaing this story!

This story is a Hermione/Viktor Krum pairing. There will be fluffiness and there will be lemons. If any of this is not your style, I will not be offended if you choose not to read my story.

In case you're wondering I've fancasted the original actors Hermione (Emma Watson) and Viktor (Stanislav Ianevski)!

As always, reviews are a wonderful gift!

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I just play with what's already here.

Warnings: Sex, alcohol, mentions of traumatic events

Here is "Finding Home"

Enjoy!

ABD

Finding Home

Chapter 1

26 February 2006 - Athens, Greece

February wasn't the considered the greatest time to visit the ancient city of Athens, Greece but Hermione truthfully couldn't imagine a better time, she thought with a small smile as she took a warming drink of rapidly cooling tea inside her small rented room. In her years of travel, off seasons had become her favourite. All of the beauty and none of the insanity. The Rocky Mountains in March with snow sometimes higher than Hermione was tall made for breathtaking views. Rio de Janeiro in the peak temperatures of summer tended to chase away the general tourist masses, but Hermione loved it…even if her hair adamantly disagreed. Autumn in New Zealand and Maryland were an onslaught of glorious colour.

So many places, so many memories.

Following the Battle of Hogwarts, she had found herself feeling adrift. She absently floated through her final year at Hogwarts and it did nothing to help. Helping her beloved friends settle into their post-war lives, while satisfying, did nothing for her sense of disassociation. Ron had stammered out with all of his limited grace that maybe her unease was due to her parentless state. Hermione had taken a week following that conversation in deep thought. Maybe, she thought, it was her neglected muggle heritage that was causing her to feel so removed.

Unable to bring herself to face her parents just yet, she threw herself into studies once more, though this time she set her focus to learning everything that she had missed out on and would have known had she stayed in the muggle school system rather than gone to Hogwarts. She learned more than she knew was possible about computers and the internet. By the beginning of summer in 2000 she had sat her GCSE's and had scored decently considering she had no formal muggle education after the age of eleven. Her parents had done what they could to ensure her education was not lacking and her options remained open by sending her correspondence courses via owls throughout her Hogwarts career…well up to what would have been her final year, that was.

The adrift feeling hadn't gone away following the completion of her GCSE's as she had hoped it would. She found herself growing more despondent and frustrated with herself. One night just a few weeks after her completion, she sat on the comfortable couch in her childhood home with Harry settled on her left and Ron to her right as they had their "Golden Date Night" as Ginny and Susan had begun calling it. It was a silly but thoughtful gesture on the boys' part to have a standing appointment to spend one evening every other week having dinner, watching silly shows, and generally just enjoying one another's company. Hermione couldn't remember exactly what they were watching but she just remembered seeing images of the most beautiful sites around the world.

She remembered her breath catching in her chest and a crushing sense of desire to go. Most importantly to Hermione though was that she remembered that she felt.

The next several days were made up of paperwork to renew her passport that she had gotten several years prior combing through her financials to ensure that her travel was even feasible. Her first stop, she knew, would have to be Australia. While she was awaiting her passport, Hermione took the time to discuss her plans with her family of the heart. Harry and Ron had exchanged glances with small smiles that, despite knowing the boys better than nearly anyone, she could not quite place.

When asked later on, Harry just smiled, "You were you again when you were just talking about it, Hermione. If exploring the world is what you need to find some peace then we're going to support you. Just…just don't forget about us, yeah?" She had promised, a silly promise because there was no way Hermione could ever forget these people, no matter where these travels took her.

In her nearly six years of traveling, she had kept that promise. Every May 1st and Christmas, without fail, she found her way back home for a minimum of a week. Letters, pictures, and postcards were mailed out on a weekly basis.

There was only once where she almost had to break her plans and communication was limited. She had made plans to return to spend her twenty-second birthday with her friends. Her September 12th flight out of Newark in 2001 never happened.

Hermione remembered the overwhelming feeling of horrified heartbreak and paralyzing flashbacks as she watched the news coverage from her New Jersey hotel room with the evidence of the nightmare visible to all of her senses from her window. When flights resumed just a few days later, Hermione returned to England and stayed through the end of the year. Harry had offered to help her organize portkeys for her travels following the experience that left his friend badly shaken and understandably traumatized, but she declined. Despite her emphatic dislike for flying on brooms, Hermione had grown appreciative of having the opportunity to view her destination from the sky.

Hermione drew herself from her thoughts and carried her mug to the sink before grabbing her gold colored, loose knit cardigan that reminded her of the aspen trees in the Rockies during the fall and pulled her comfortable boots over her calves. She snatched her key with one hand and stuffed her ever-present beaded bag into the pocket of the cardigan. Once the jacket was on over her brown vest top, Hermione carefully pulled her mass of curls out from under the collar before heading out, ensuring the door was securely locked behind her. That was a mistake she had only made once and the sole reason that the beaded bag had become a staple in her travels.

She had only been in Athens for a couple of days when she had located the magical district and she had been in awe of the ancient buildings and the history of the location. Hermione had also become quite partial to the little pub that was just up the street and to the left from the district's entrance. While most of her travels were by muggle means of transportation, she made a point to seek out the magical districts whenever her travels allowed for it. The witch had just settled onto her stool and placed her drink order when she stiffened, sensing a large presence not far behind her.

"Now there is a sight for sore eyes," said a deep, heavily accented yet familiar voice just behind and to her right. Hermione stiffened and turned carefully on her stool to face the man speaking. Her eyes narrowed, there was something oddly familiar about the man, when he grinned warmly, Hermione gasped and launched herself for a hug that he wasted no time wrapping his large arms around her tiny frame.

"Hello, Her-my-oh-nee," Viktor said with a cheekiness joining his already grinning expression.

"Viktor! How are you? I almost didn't recognize you," Hermione exclaimed, pulling away from the hug just enough to look him over before reaching up to comb her fingers through his dark hair. "You've grown your hair out!"

Viktor nodded and carefully led her back to her seat, taking the vacant one beside her eagerly. "What has brought you to Greece? Weren't you in Egypt just a month ago?"

"I was," she sighed and shrugged. "I'd gone for the history and the scenery but it was time to move on. I might get back there again someday. What about you? Your last letter didn't mention travelling?"

"I left the team," Viktor admitted, sheepishly.

"You mean left, left?" Hermione repeated in surprise. "But Viktor, you love your team!"

"The Professional world is not what it was," he said, pausing to sort out his words. "After your country's war and the World Cup that year, everything changed. It's very political now, as much for coaches as for actual players. That is not what I signed up for. I gave them ten years, I won't give them any more."

"So you left the team and moved to Greece?" Hermione asked, teasingly.

"No," he said, shaking his head with a short laugh before eyeing her warmly. "I left the team right after your last letter. I'm in Greece for the same reason as you."

"Wanderlust?"

"Something like that," he agreed. "Tell me about your travels, Hermyonee."

Hermione grinned and happily launched into the conversation about her travels, his team and his decision to leave, their friends and family. She felt like she had forgotten just how wonderful conversation and wonderful company could revitalize her. She smiled warmly at the man sitting beside her, feeling her face warm when he returned the expression. Yes, the attraction was just as present as it had been at the Yule Ball so many years ago.

"Hermyonee?" The witch tilted her head in question at his curiously nervous tone. "Let me take you to dinner?"

Hermione stared at him for a moment, feeling the forgotten sensation of butterflies in her belly. "I'd like that, Viktor."

The wizard grinned and took her small hand as he stood from his stool. Hermione blinked in surprise when she realized that he wanted to take her to dinner now. "I should go change though, I'm not dressed appropriately for dinner."

"Hermyonee," Viktor interrupted. "You are always beautiful."

Hermione flushed and ducked her head, tucking her hair behind her ear feeling uncharacteristically shy. The past six years of traveling had developed a strong sense of self-confidence that she never had growing up but there had always been something about Viktor Krum that brought back out the shyness and butterflies. She felt her hand being tucked securely at his elbow

Dinner was a wonderful time. Viktor had taken her to a small, local restaurant in the muggle side of Athens, it was only a short walk from the pub in the magical district. The food was wonderful, the conversation between the pair never halted and Hermione was reluctant for it to end. Much to her relief, Viktor seemed to be equally reluctant.

"Where do you think you will go next?" Viktor asked, curiously.

"I'm not sure actually," she replied thoughtfully. "I'll likely stay in Greece for a few more weeks, though not specifically here in Athens. Which means I've only really got time enough for one more stop since I'll need to be back in London by the last week of April. I thought about Austria or Germany but I've not decided yet. What are your plans now that you've left Quidditch?"

Viktor studied her for a moment, amusement and something else in his expression that made her butterflies take flight once more. Finally, with another grin, he shrugged, "No plans have been decided yet."

After paying the bill, Viktor guided her out of the small restaurant with a warm hand settled at the small of her back, sending small shockwaves through her system and a faint blush to her cheeks. As they walked, neither being very eager to end their visit, he dropped his hand from her back, taking her hand in his instead.

But before they could reenter the magical district and the little pub where they had originally met, Viktor nudged her gently into a small alleyway footpath. She frowned up at him in confusion but before more than the first syllable of his name was spoken, his free hand settled at the nape of her neck and his lips lowered onto hers in a kiss that shot jolts through her core and all the way down to her toes.

Just as she was sinking into the fantastic kiss, he pulled back, eyes darker than normal, breathing and accent heavy. "I am sorry, Moyata. I have wanted to do that again for so many years."

Hermione tilted her head in surprise and consideration. Was he truly suggesting that he still wanted her? They had met up over the years when her travels brought her near the team but she couldn't recall any indication that the interest was anything other than a one sided thing that would only cause her hurt in the end. The man in front of her had held a very special place in her heart since she was fifteen. She wasn't ashamed to admit that he had starred heavily in her fantasies and romantic daydreams throughout the decade since.

His apology and admission stirred something in her and she gathered what she could find of her hiding self-assurance. Rising to the tips of her still tingling toes and reaching to gently pull his head down to her. When their lips met for the second time, he released her hand and wrapped his arms snuggly around her waist, hugging her to his chest. A gentle nibble to her lips and their lips met and warmth consumed her. So focused on the sensations beginning at the tip of her tongue and curling to her toes, Hermione hadn't even noticed that they had moved until she felt her back press against the cool stone of the building behind her.

As quickly as the flame of the encounter grew, it was doused as the grey clouds suddenly opened up and drenched the couple in a downpour of rain. Hermione shrieked at the cold water as she pulled her head back and the pair devolved into a fit of laughter. Viktor detangled his right arm from around her back and gently cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her flushed cheeks. Ignoring the rain for the moment, he lowered his face and pressed one final gentle, tender kiss to her lips that made her head spin from the affection the gesture presented before resting his forehead against her own.

Thoroughly drenched, the pair causally left the alleyway hand in hand, making their way to the pub as darkness set fully outside. Once inside, Hermione smiled gratefully when Viktor carefully spelled them both dry before slipping his arm around her waist and guiding her towards a table on the far side of the room. After seating her, he left to order their drinks and Hermione watched him walk away in contemplation. Her fingers traced idly over her lips as she studied the man that she had harbored a deep seated interest for so very long. He glanced back over to her from his place at the bar and she blushed at being caught staring but felt a little bit of pride as well when she noticed a reddened tinge around his beard.

When he returned, Viktor placed her glass on the table in front of her, pressed a kiss to the side of her head before taking his seat across the small table from her. Their previous kisses seemed to have broken the ice in their relationship but in its place was an uncertainty and almost an awkwardness that Hermione was not sure how to push through. Hesitantly, she asked, "Viktor? I only ask because I have to know and I have to make sure that I'm understanding and on the same page but…what are we doing? What was that earlier? To you?"

"To me? To me that was a kiss that I have been hoping to repeat for over ten years, Moyata," Viktor answered simply.

"I don't understand," Hermione frowned. "You've shown nothing to indicate that you've still been interested in me or anything with me any of the times we've met over the years."

"Hermyohnee," Viktor said, expression one of slight disbelief, "I haven't not been interested in you since the year of the Tournament."

She sat back in her seat and studied the man sitting across from her, trying to find any indication that he was being misleading or dishonest. When she found none, Hermione frowned again, "Why haven't you said anything? I'd spent an entire week in Bulgaria with you not two years ago. I thought…well I thought it safer if I just followed your lead."

"And I was following yours," he said with a wry smile. Leaning forward, he took her hand in his, stroking the back with his thumb staring at their joined hands in thought for several moments before raising them from the table to press his lips to the back of her hand. "We talk well, Moyata. It seems that communication could use some work."

Hermione smiled and nodded in agreement. Her smile faded into thought and she studied him intently. Finally, she squeezed his hand and asked the plaguing question. "What is it that you're wanting, Viktor?"

"You," he shrugged with a smile. "I have always just wanted you, Hermyohnee."

His smile grew when she blushed. "After the tournament, I knew that it was not our time yet. Too much was happening and you were so young. Two years now is much different than two years when you were only fifteen. After the war, when we finally began writing again, I had hope. I would have given much to join you in your travels, Bozhe moĭ, when you wrote and told me about your terrible experience when you were so near that attack in the United States a few years ago…I was so worried for you, Moyata. I did not know if I would be welcome and I also knew that your travels were something you needed to do for yourself so I would not have asked anyway."

"I was not completely truthful, earlier," Viktor admitted, sheepishly. He flushed under her enquiring glance and lowered his gaze back to their entwined hands. "Last month, when I left the team, I contacted Potter."

"Harry?" Hermione said in surprise. "What did you contact him about?"

"You," he chuckled sheepishly. "I had hoped to see you but I had no idea where your travels had taken you. So I asked Potter. I am not in Greece on wanderlust, Hermione."

"You came to Greece to find me?" She asked, watching as the man's cheeks reddened once more when he nodded. Hermione giggled, partially out of amusement but mostly out of flattered happiness. "Who might have guessed that the famous Viktor Krum is such a romantic?"

Viktor ducked his head and grinned, but his eyes warmed at the teasing.

Moyata - Mine

Bozhe moĭ - My God