AU. What if the TriWizard was held when our trio was in sixth year, not fourth? What if Hermione was more mature and open with her feelings for a certain Bulgarian Quidditch player? How does she comfort him after the end of the terrible end of the TriWizard tournament?
It was one of the longest days she'd ever had, and all Hermione wanted was for it to end. Better yet, for it to never have happened at all?
Voldemort was back.
Cedric Diggory, the rightfully chosen Hogwarts champion, was dead.
Harry, thank Merlin, was alive and would be well, physically, at least until the next time someone attacked him. Or ultimately, killed him. Right now he was asleep, tucked into the most comfortable bed in the Hogwarts infirmary that she could create. He was surrounded by the Weasley clan, along with Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. Through the mill of bodies, she could see Molly Weasley sitting on the edge of his bed, running her fingers lightly through Harry's hair, in the way his mother might have had she not been murdered when he was only a baby.
Fleur Delacour was scratched up some and shaken, but had been discharged earlier in the evening.
And Viktor Krum, her lover, was asleep in a bed across from Harry's. He'd been Imperioused during the last task, and was having unexpected reactions to coming out of it. Nausea, dizziness, disorientation. He'd passed out on the way to the infirmary from the field. She sat on the edge of his bed, watching his face contort in his sleep, hearing him mumble words she couldn't understand.
At the end of fifth year, Hermione had petitioned Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall to be an apprentice in healing. Yes, she was interested in and fascinated by Transfiguration and Arithmancy, but she was even more interested in healing. She didn't want to be an auror after school, after - whatever would now happen for Harry - war, unavoidably. She wanted to help people. So the two professors had agreed, Hermoine had passed her apprenticeship tests this summer. When school began, sessions twice per week had been originally added to her schedule.
Until the TriWizard tournament had been announced, that was.
What utter, utter fools her fellow students were! Sometimes she could not believe she actually went to school with witches and wizards. The sheer stupidity of some of them had Madame Pomfrey calling for her help to deal with fake aging potions gone wrong, or students practicing hexes they didn't fully understand. She and Madame Pomfrey had laughed until they cried the day a student came in with a chicken attached to the top of his head. He'd been attempting something called the Cheetah Charm, to improve speed. Somehow he'd mispronounced the word and ended up with a glorious rooster adornment. Gah!
The absolute worst was when the two competing schools arrived - the all girls Beaubaxtons from France, and the all boys Durmstrang from, well, somewhere much colder than Hogwarts. She'd tried for almost the entire year to wheedle the location out of Viktor, but all he would say was Scandanavia.
She'd seen the international Quidditch superstar in action a couple months before school began this year. The Weasleys had taken her and Harry to the Quidditch World Cup. It was unlikely to find anyone in the wizarding world that was less interested in Quidditch than she, but she went along and to her surprise enjoyed herself immensely. It was impossible to not know who Viktor Krum was after that. And when he walked into Hogwarts a few months later for the TriWizard, she knew, she knew there would be trouble.
His female groupies, in an effort to outdo each other, had the strangest make up and hair problems she'd ever seen. One girl, originally quite flat chested, had used a charm to increase her bust size, and it had work so spectacularly, her friends had to help her to the infirmary because she kept falling forward due to the weight.
The first time she met Viktor Krum was when he'd come in the second week of his arrival.
The burn salves she'd just mixed were setting nicely when she heard the infirmary door open with a loud bang. "How can I-" died on her lips. Hermione clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.
Standing in front of her was the Durmstrang champion, Viktor Krum, dressed in his dark brown school uniform, a furious scowl on his face. His face was still very handsome in spite of said scowl and the many hot pink lip prints that adorned his skin from head to collarbone, and all over his clothes. "Oh my," she muttered.
"They also smell and itch. I do not know vat this is. Please, your help," he managed, sprawling into a chair, trying not to scratch himself.
"Of course. Let me see." She stood in front of him, using a silent charm Madame Pomfrey had taught her to help reveal what the original hex or charm was and where it might have gone wrong. "Was this from a love letter?"
He snorted, and shook his head. "Vell, this vas from letter, but nothing of love in there. Vould you do this to someone you professed love to?"
"No I would not. I imagine this was a charm gone wrong." She heard him sigh as she murmured a charm and watched the lips start to peel off him.
"I do not vant charms. Not potions. Not panties," he groaned, closing his eyes in frustration. "Just vant to fly and play, study Transfiguration, spend life vith kind, smart, beautiful vitch that vants me for more than fame or body or money. Maybe someday haff little boy and little girl to teach to fly." His eyes flashed open and stared at her for a moment. "Do I vant too much?" He laughed and shook his head, confusing her. "I complain all over you, tell you life dreams, and do not ask name of kind healer. Selfish man. Viktor Krum, at your service. Vhat is your name?"
"I'm Hermione Granger. I'm a sixth year and an apprentice healer with Madame Pomfrey." She smiled at him, and continued the charm in her head. The lips were still peeling off. "And no, I don't think you want too much."
"My teammates, all say enjoy, play around vith girls who send me things. But I don't vant to do that. Feels vrong. Not my vay, not vay I vas raised to be."
"You don't want to wake in the morning smelling of sex and regret." It wasn't something she had personal experience with, but she did know what it was like to do things that went against your instincts and regret them. Like going on a date with that seventh year from Hufflepuff last year. She knew it was a mistake from the moment she said yes.
"Yes. Is good vay to put it."
Hermione blushed and went to fill a bowl with warm water and a light soap mixed with healing oils she had made. She carried the bowl and some warm washcloths and towels over to him. "All the lips have peeled off you. But this will help clean any residue off your skin and hair." She smiled as he dipped a cloth in the water.
He sat there cleaning his face, and Hermione smiled to herself hearing him sigh in pleasure. "Feels vonderful, thank you."
When he'd left the infirmary that day, he'd bowed low, kissed her hand, and called her his healing angel.
The next day, at breakfast, instead of sitting with the Slytherins as the Durmstrang students normally did, he and a group of friends came to sit with her at the Griffyndor table, much to the disgust of Malfoy.
At dinner that same day, Malfoy was seen sporting a black eye and a split lip. When Ron quipped that Malfoy looked like he ran into a door, the Durmstrangs students growled menacingly. "I could not let little vorthless scum speak nasty vords about Hermione," Viktor growled. "Is 'git' the vord? Little git got vhat he deserved."
And that was the beginning of the friendship and surprising relationship between over-achieving bookworm Hermione Granger and Quidditch superstar Viktor Krum.
No one was more surprised than she was sometimes. Hermoine had a few, very few, male admirers, and they weren't necessarily popular boys. Now there was one after her who could have any girl or woman he wanted anywhere in the wizarding world. And he was very clear he wanted her, and only her.
When his Hogwarts groupies caught on and began to harass her, he addressed them all one day when they were following him and promised to hex them if they did or said anything at all to her or harmed her in any way.
He showered her with all kinds of gifts - flowers, books, healing materials, even an old and favored jersey of his from his early days in Bulgarian national Quidditch which she wore frequently.
On Hogsmeade weekends, they spent the day together, sometimes meeting with Harry and Ron and Ginny for part of the day, or meeting with Viktor's friends. Or combining the two groups into one larger, loud, enjoyable experience.
When word got out through Rita Skeeter to the Daily Prophet and she began getting hate mail from witches all over the world, he actually went to the Daily Prophet offices for an interview in which he praised her to the skies and said he'd never felt like this about any woman, ever. The wizarding world was stunned to read the intimate, full page spread because Viktor Krum was notoriously private and rarely ever did any interviews.
Viktor really showed his romantic and passionate side for and after the Yule Ball. He was so handsome and manly in his red dress uniform, she couldn't help but tell him partway through the evening that she wanted to be with him that night. Their relationship had been leading up to the point of making love, so it wasn't a complete surprise to him. But they didn't stay at the ball much longer after her confession. When they came together that night, she never knew a girl's first time could be so wonderful. He was so attentive and gentle. That was the first of many times, all of them amazing in one way or another.
They argued sometimes about the tournament. Viktor wanted to win it, for her. She didn't care a bit who won as long as no one was hurt in a way that could not be made right. Until the events of the maze, she hadn't considered mental or emotional hurts.
She could tell Viktor was waking. He was getting restless, twitching in the bed, murmuring her name. To give them some privacy, she flicked her wand to put up a privacy wall and a silencing and viewing charm. No one could see in and no one could hear in.
"Viktor, I'm here. It's all right. You're safe. The tournament is over. It's all right," she murmured, rubbing his hand with hers.
He sat up in bed suddenly, gasping for breath, clutching his throat, his brown eyes wide and watery. "Her-her-my-knee?" he whispered, turning to meet her gaze.
"I'm right here, I'm all right. You're in the infirmary at Hogwarts. It's okay, love." She reached a hand up to cup his cheek.
"I was Imperioused?"
"Yes."
"Did I- I - didn't hurt anyone?" His eyes bored into hers, and she dreaded telling him the truth.
"I think you might have Stunned Fleur, but she is all right. You tried to fight Cedric and Harry, but they knocked you out."
She watched as he nodded, taking this new information in. "Good. I'm glad they put me out." He swallowed and shuddered, never taking his eyes off her. "I thought I heard someone say - about Cedric and Voldemort. Tell me vhat happened, I need to know."
Hermione nodded slowly, hating to tell him the news when he was so vulnerable. " The cup was a portkey. Cedric and Harry took it together. It took them where Voldemort's people were. They - they killed Cedric and hurt Harry. Voldemort, he's back. They hurt Harry to bring him back." Her voice was trembling and she couldn't stop it.
Viktor looked weak and exhausted, but even in his current state he was still incredibly strong. Hermione squeaked as he picked her up and pulled her into his lap, burying his face in her neck. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, luff," he repeated, holding her tightly to him. "
"You have nothing to be sorry for," she whispered in his ear. "You didn't want to be cursed, or used, or hurt anyone. You didn't ask for that. I love you, Viktor."
"I vanted to vin, I wanted to vin so bad. They used that on me, and other things, to get me stun Fleur. I knew I vas doing vrong, but couldn't stop it. Didn't haff the strength."
"It's all right," she said softly, hugging him back, caressing his head. "It's all right."
"You don't hate me? I attack Harry, your best friend?"
"No, it's not your fault. No one was seriously hurt by you. And no one else blames you, either."
She wanted to weep inside, hearing his next words and the tone in which he spoke, like a small, tired, frightened boy. "You are not disappointed in me that I cannot break curse?"
"No," she whispered. "I love you, Viktor."
Little by little, the reminders that she loved him sunk in to calm his mind and heart enough to truly rest for a long period of time. And when he woke in the morning, hers was the first face he saw and the first voice he heard, reminding him once again that she loved him.