At the mere age of eighteen, Viktor Krum was on track to becoming an International Quidditch champion. He was the youngest International Quidditch player in over a century, but that wasn't going to stop him from coming home with the cup. Viktor's parents had ingrained a certain attitude in him from an early age. His father, a half-blood from a well liked but poor family, had worked himself incredibly hard every day to make his way in the world. Niklaus Krum went from being one of the poorest men in Bulgaria to being one of the wealthiest men in Eastern Europe. His mother, an incredibly intelligent pureblood, competed in educational contests all her life. By the time she was twenty, Evelina Krum was a highly respected magical scholar. His parents were nothing short of amazing. It was expected that Viktor would be the same way.
No one was surprised when Viktor was selected to play for the Bulgarian National Quidditch team in the 1994 World Cup. He wasn't as smart as his mother or as hardworking as his father, but Viktor Krum was a natural athlete. When he mounted his broom, his world shifted. On the ground, Viktor was awkward and unsure of himself, but in the air he was graceful and confident. For Viktor, flying was like breathing: easy and essential. What he lacked in personality and congeniality, he made up for with his ability to hurtle through the air at impossible speeds. His parents were proud of him. Viktor knew that. They came to most of his Quidditch games at school and travelled to all of his International games both at the World Cup and the qualifying rounds leading up to it.
Their dedication and obvious pride made the loss that much more bitter. Once the game against Ireland was underway, Viktor knew his team was no match for their chasers. The Irish chasers were tighter than anything the Bulgarians had come across. It was if they could read each other's minds. The pressure was intense. Viktor knew that he was his team's only hope of winning. And even then, victory was still a long shot. Viktor did his best to take Lynch out of the running. A nicely placed Wronski Feint left his opponent dazed, but it wasn't going to be enough. If he let the match go on any longer, his team would be pulverized. So Viktor did what he had to do. He caught the snitch, despite taking a bludger to the face, and ended the match on his terms.
It wasn't a Bulgarian victory, but it still felt like a win to him. At least the score wasn't going to be an embarrassing 400-100 points. Everyone claimed to be completely shocked by the ending of the match but Niklaus and Evelina were not.
"Well played son," Niklaus Krum congratulated him.
"We just knew you would catch the snitch!" Evelina exclaimed. Her eyes were gleaming with delight, as if Viktor's team had actually won.
"Good way to go out," Niklaus added. "The world will never forget your name."
That much was true. It was what Viktor wanted. But it wasn't enough. When it was announced that Durmstrang was to take part in the reinstated Triwizard Tournament, Viktor knew he had to be his school's champion. It was a shot at fame and glory and another chance to win. To make his parents proud.
But he'd screwed that up as well. He'd made it through the first two tasks without any real incident. But the third task ended in disaster. His family had come out to watch him perform and he ended up getting cursed by a Death Eater. Viktor found out later that a Death Eater was trying to rig the tournament in Harry Potter's favor, yet the defeat was still a cutting loss.
He lost the tournament but he also lost the girl. Hermione Granger. Viktor would remember her until the day he died. She was smart and beautiful and reminded him a lot of his mother in a way. She was brave and kind and cared very deeply for her friends and for those less fortunate than herself. For a while, Viktor thought she might care for him as he did for her. But then he'd lost her to a skinny red head who played sub-par Quidditch.
After the tournament, Viktor became a bit obsessed with winning. He spent every one of his waking moments training and preparing for his next opportunity. He lost track of his friends from school and he didn't bother trying to make new ones. His only relationships were with his parents and with his Quidditch team. After losing Hermione, Viktor didn't feel like trying again. A girlfriend would only complain that he spent too much time training and distract him from his goals. He was going to win a World Cup or die trying.
Needless to say, when Bulgaria qualified for the Cup in 2002, Viktor was beside himself with joy. This year would be the year, or so he thought. Egyptian seeker, Rawya Zaghloul managed to snipe the snitch right out from under him. It broke him. He couldn't do it anymore. Viktor was only 26 years old but he felt like he was 56. And so he decided to retire. He packed his bags and headed home. It was in that moment, when Viktor felt like all was lost, and he'd given up all hope, Fate decided to kick him while he was down.
Fate came in the form of Natalya Valasek, his annoying neighbor, former schoolmate, occasional house sitter, and sometimes friend.
"So you're retired," was the first thing out of her mouth. Natalya was the Quidditch correspondent for the Bulgarian national paper so naturally she knew everything. Viktor wanted to slam the door in her face. He didn't need reminding of his failure. Just as he moved to close the door, Natalya slipped inside the entrance to his home. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked shutting the door behind her and slipping off her shoes.
"No, I would like you to leave," Viktor told her, crossing his arms over his chest and giving her his best surly glare.
"Don't look at me like that," Natalya said swatting his arms down. "You might not want to talk about it right now but you'll want to talk about it eventually. You got anything to eat?" she was already on her way to the kitchen. "I'm starving!" she called out to him over her shoulder. Since Natalya occasionally watched his house for him when he was gone, she knew her way around the place, especially around the kitchen.
"No food here," Viktor yelled as he followed her into the depths of his house.
"Liar!" her voice echoed in a way that told him she had found her way to the pantry.
"What do you want Valasek?" Normally, Viktor didn't mind Natalya dropping by unannounced. She was probably the only person he was still in contact with from school. It was nice to chat with her occasionally. However, after his soul crushing defeat and subsequent retirement, Viktor wanted to be alone to mope.
"What makes you think I want anything?" she asked helping herself to some cereal. Cereal was an odd midday snack.
"Why else would you be here?" Viktor wondered.
"I thought you might want some company," Natalya shrugged her shoulders as she spooned some cheerios into her mouth. "I didn't think you would want to be alone in your misery."
"That proves that you don't know me at all," Viktor declared.
"Okay fine," she sighed, "I knew you would be holed up in here by yourself and I didn't think that it would be good for you." Viktor glared at her. "I wanted to make sure you were okay!" she added gesticulating wildly with her spoon. Viktor just rolled his eyes. He had no idea why he was still in touch with Natalya Valasek of all people. They had such opposite personalities it was almost painful. She was loud, friendly, and enthusiastic in every thing she did and Viktor was serious, morose, and constrained. Yet somehow, their friendship just worked. He grounded her and she sparked some life into him.
"I'm fine," he muttered finally sitting down next to her and resigning himself to the fact that Natalya was not going to give him his much desired alone time.
"I don't believe you," Natalya shook her head.
"I am," he insisted.
"Prove it."
"How?"
"Talk to me about why you're retiring," she suggested in what she probably thought was an innocent manner.
"No," Viktor responded flatly.
"Then I don't think you're fine," she returned.
"I don't have to prove anything to you," he pointed out. Natalya shook her head.
"That's a fair point." He hadn't expected her to give in so easily. And perhaps that's why he found himself admitting the truth.
"I just can't take the pressure anymore," he sighed putting his head down against the table top. He couldn't see her but he assumed Natalya was still eating because she didn't say anything. "I put so much pressure on myself to win. Quidditch was supposed to be my thing. My dad was the epicly successful businessman, my mum the brilliant scholar, and me the prodigal athlete. I was supposed to win and every time I didn't—I just can't do it anymore."
"Just because you didn't win a World Cup doesn't mean you weren't a successful Quidditch player," Natalya said softly. "You're an International super star! There are children everywhere asking their parents to buy them broomsticks so that they can be the next Viktor Krum. Hell there's even an action figure modeled after you!" Viktor snorted.
"I know," he muttered. "I just can't take the stress anymore. I used to love flying and now it's just a means to an end. Now every time I get on my broomstick I think about how I've failed." Natalya nodded. If there was anyone he could talk about failure with, it was her. She was in the year below him at Durmstrang. They were both on the Quidditch team and she was also an exceptionally gifted flyer. Natalya was never going to play internationally, but she was being scouted by some Bulgarian leagues. However, in her last game at school she took a particularly nasty bludger to her arm. Natalya played through the pain. She was the best Keeper and without her, the team would have lost. They won the game but Natalya ended up causing irreversible damage to some nerve endings in her arm. The healers were at a loss and she was never going to be able to play professionally. Her career died before she could even get started. Natalya understood failure and loss and the soul crushing defeat of having your dreams yanked away from you. Now she made her living writing articles about other Quidditch players. How she did that, Viktor had no idea. He thought she was incredibly strong to go out every day and be able and write about people who were living her dream.
"I don't think you're a failure," she shook her head. "And you're so young still. You could still play in another World Cup. You don't have to retire now."
"I do though," Viktor sighed, "I just don't love it anymore."
And that was that. The years went by and Viktor figured out how to make a living without Quidditch. Then some former Death Eaters started causing some trouble in Eastern Europe and Viktor decided to lay low. He lost track of Natalya at that point too. After the dark wizards were rounded up, Viktor started working in his father's company. He stepped out of the world of Quidditch completely. In fact, he didn't even touch his broomstick, not for travel, not for fun, not for anything. Ten years after his announced retirement, Viktor Krum was practically unrecognizable. Gone were his muscles and flying abilities; they were replaced by a small layer of fat and a job in an office. His transformation was so complete that when Natalya Valasek finally did return to Bulgaria she didn't even recognize her former friend.
"Viktor Krum is that you?" she was standing outside his house looking completely shocked.
"Natalya?" he was equally as bewildered.
"I'm back," she said with a shrug of her shoulders.
"Where the hell did you go?" he demanded to know. He'd been confused when she'd disappeared suddenly but Viktor assumed it had something to do with the former Death Eaters in the wizarding world. However, when Natalya didn't return after they were all caught, Viktor didn't know what to think. And now that he was seeing her again, Viktor realized that he was angry with her. She had left without any word or explanation and now expected to just show up at his house like everything was normal. She had left him to face the world alone and he was not going to forgive her that easily.
Natalya moved to enter his home like she used to but Viktor blocked her path. He wanted to make it clear that things were not going to go back to the way they used to be without an explanation.
"I needed to get away," she shrugged her shoulders again.
"That is not going to cut it Valasek," he crossed his arms and glared at her. Natalya just smiled and it made him even more cross.
"Merlin, you look different," she muttered. It was true. He was pudgier thanks to his aversion to Quidditch and had a bit of a beard because he was too lazy to shave.
"You have a lot of explaining to do if you don't want me to slam this door in your face," he declared.
"Viktor don't be dramatic," Natalya laughed.
"I mean it!" he retorted.
"Fine, can I at least come in?" she asked. He nodded and stepped back to allow her entrance into the building.
"Where have you been?" he repeated his question once they were seated in his living room.
"Everywhere," Natalya gushed. "Oh Viktor it was incredible. I left because of the Death Eaters as I'm sure you guessed." He nodded. Natalya was a muggleborn. She wasn't safe in Europe while that was occurring. "At first I went to Canada. I know that seems random but the Canadian Quidditch teams were always so nice so I figured the rest of Canadian wizards must be too. They were lovely. Canada is a beautiful country."
"How long were you there?" Viktor asked?
"Two years," she supplied. "But I got a job offer in Australia so I decided to go there."
"Australia?!" Viktor exclaimed in surprise.
"Yes I spent another two years there as well. Australia is simply fascinating. And then I decided to take a vacation and travel in Russia." Natalya's mother was Russian and she'd always wanted to spend some time in the country of her ethnic origins. "I spent maybe a year there at most. I wanted to go somewhere warm after Russia and I got a job offer in Egypt so I went there for three years." Her travels were far reaching, Viktor observed. But she never stayed in one place for long. Perhaps she was running from something in the same way that he was hiding. "And then I met a witch who knew a healer in America who used both wizard and muggle methods. I decided to seek the healer out. I still hadn't given up hope on my arm."
"You didn't!" Viktor gasped.
"I did," Natalya admitted hanging her head guiltily. "I had a muggle surgery and they used potions and spells and Viktor you won't believe it!" Natalya exclaimed excitedly. She held out her right arm to him. She extended it and held it here. After her injury, Natalya couldn't hold her arm still for more than a minute before the pain became too much and it started to shake. She couldn't hold onto her broom or the Quaffle, writing with her quill for too long was painful and she struggled with her spells that required certain movements of the arm. But now her arm was stationary and strong. She was beaming. Her smile was contagious.
"Natalya that's amazing!" he was truly happy for her. She nodded eagerly drawing her arm back to her side.
"I'm not completely healed," she admitted. "They are having me do this thing called physical therapy. I'm to exercise and practice range of motion every day. But I am expected to make a full recovery."
"Incredible," Viktor declared. And it was.
"I'm sorry it took me so long to come back and see you," she apologized. "I heard that you were different and I guess I was scared," she admitted.
"No matter," Viktor brushed off her apology. The last thing he wanted was for them both to become emotional.
"I'm actually here to ask you a favor," she confessed.
"And what favor is that?" he wondered.
"Well, I'm back working as a Quidditch correspondent but I'm supposed to be doing other things on the side. Physical activities, you know? It's part of my physical therapy. Anyway, there's this competition. My healer said participating in it will be good for my recovery but I need a partner."
"What kind of competition?" Viktor asked. Natalya winced. That wasn't a good sign.
"Er, it's an amateur dancing competition actually," she blushed.
"No," Viktor said flatly. She knew that he was a dreadful dancer. When Viktor was on a broomstick back in the day, he'd been graceful but he was the clumsiest wizard on foot.
"Viktor please! It could be a lot of fun!" Natalya begged.
"No."
"You owe me!"
"No I don't."
"Very well, but it will be good for my recovery."
"Find someone else."
"You're my oldest friend."
"No."
"It would be something fun for us to do."
"No it wouldn't."
"Stefan Peters will be competing," Natalya played her final card.
"Stefan Peters?" Viktor asked in shock. Stefan Peters, was for the lack of a better term, a little shit. He'd been one of Viktor's rivals back at Durmstrang. Viktor Krum hated Stefan Peters with a burning passion.
"Yes, with his fiancé," Natalya ground out looking seriously irritated. She hated Peters as well. "Apparently she is quite an accomplished dancer."
"How do we win?" Viktor asked. Natalya grinned.
"Oh thank you!" she exclaimed throwing her arms around his neck. Viktor had to keep himself from lurching back. No one had made an attempt at any sort of physical intimacy with him in quite some time. It was just a hug but he was still unnerved. He awkwardly patted her on the back.
"I should warn you," he said as she pulled back. "I'm cursed never to win any competition I enter." Natalya rolled her eyes.
"No you're not," she protested.
"Yes I am but I think my curse will make an exception for us to trounce Stefan Peters."
So for the next two months Viktor met Natalya at her house every day after work to practice a dance she called the Viennese Waltz. Viktor was surprised that Natalya had chosen this particular style. It was slow, graceful, and embarrassingly romantic. She had the personality of a firecracker so to Viktor, it didn't add up.
"The waltz is easier for us amateurs to perform than something like the jive or tango," Natalya explained as they watched muggle video recordings of various waltzes. Stefan Peters was also doing a waltz. Perhaps she wanted to beat him at his own game.
"But ours is more complicated and elegant," Natalya had assured him. Viktor believed her. Learning the dance routine was one of the hardest things he'd ever done. However, he would never admit that to anyone. The fact that he was learning to dance was embarrassing enough, never mind the fact that it was incredibly difficult. It required a lot of conditioning of one's body. He had to be strong and steady and hold himself the right way. The dance even required him to lift Natalya in the air at some parts.
Viktor found himself slowly but surely shedding the weight he'd gained in the past ten years and returning to a more healthy physique. He needed to be strong if he was going to lift Natalya into the air. He didn't want to drop her or risk injury to her arm that she'd worked so tirelessly to repair.
If the two of them were not practicing for the dance competition, Viktor supposed he and Natalya would have easily resumed their old friendship. However, they were spending every day learning the moves to a somewhat romantic dance and that complicated things. Natalya had once been open with Viktor about everything. Now, at times she seemed almost embarrassed. He'd once felt at ease in her company but now her mere presence filled him with a nervous energy.
His body responded to hers in ways that he was not familiar with. He hadn't expected to have romantic feelings so deep for a woman after Hermione Granger had unknowingly broken his heart. He'd been with other women of course, but never truly cared for them the way he come to care for Natalya. Nevertheless, the competition was getting closer and closer and he put aside his feelings and focused on the moves so that the two of them could kick Stefan Peters's stupid arse.
When the day of the competition finally arrived, Viktor was so nervous he felt as if he might vomit. All of his past failures seemed to haunt his every step. The '94 Cup, the Triwizard Tournament, Hermione Granger, the 2002 Cup. The losses hung heavily over his head. He watched Peters and his partner waltz around the dance floor. It was stressful to say the least.
"Don't stress," Natalya's soft voice assured him as she stepped out of the dressing room. They were to perform directly after Peters and his fiancé so she had to change into her outfit. She looked radiant in a simple pink dress that floated around her elegantly. Her dark blonde curls were pinned back and she was even wearing make up. The ensemble was quite the contrast from her usual ponytail and work robes. "We practiced our arses off. We've got this," she added with a smile. Viktor tried and failed to return the grin.
Since watching Peters and his partner was making him anxious, Viktor observed the crowd instead. The audience was nothing compared to the thousands of people Viktor used to play Quidditch in front of, but it was still a sizable amount. The auditorium that they were in was completely full. As he scanned the sea of faces, Viktor thought he spotted someone familiar. There was a woman sitting in the front row who looked just like his mum. And the man seated next to her looked oddly like his father. But that was impossible. How could his parents be here? They had no idea Viktor was dancing with Natalya. He certainly hadn't told them. Yet, there was no mistaking his parents and the couple in the front row was definitely them.
"Valasek what did you do?" Viktor hissed at her. She followed his gaze and swallowed hard.
"I may have told your mother that we entered this competition," to her credit, she didn't even bother to lie.
"Why on earth would you do something like that?!" he whispered angrily.
"Because I thought your parents might want to be here! I remember your mum never missed a game! She loved watching your matches. How is this any different?" Natalya shot back.
"It's embarrassing!" Viktor groaned. Now his parents were going to watch him make a fool of himself on a dance floor. Despite his hesitations about dancing, Viktor had come to enjoy it. He always had a good time with Natalya and after his dance lessons with her he honestly felt more in control of his body than he ever had.
"It won't be embarrassing when we win!" Natalya declared. Viktor rolled his eyes at her. "Oh come on Krum! Lighten up. Look at your mum's face. She's loving this." That much was true. Evelina Krum was glowing. His father looked a bit uncomfortable, but his mother was on top of the world. "And she's going to be even happier when it's you out there!"
Their bickering was interrupted when Stefan Peters and his fiancé finished their dance. The judges didn't give any commentary they just recorded their notes and scores. The winners would be announced at the end. The host of the competition was waving them over. It was their turn.
"This conversation is not over," Viktor grunted as he took Natalya's hand and led her out onto the stage like they practiced so many times before. They assumed their first pose and waited for the music to begin. It started and they took off gliding, no flying across the floor.
Viktor had no words to describe the feeling of dancing with Natalya. For two minutes, the rest of the world seemed to fall away. It was just the two of them and they were soaring with every rise and fall of the song. He didn't care whether they won or beat Stefan Peters or that his dad probably thought Viktor had lost his mind, he just thrived in the feeling of the dance. Once the music ended and they took their bow, Viktor allowed himself to look at his parents. His mother was on her feet clapping and smiling and his father, while still sitting down, looked equally as pleased.
Viktor waited backstage with Natalya and the rest of the competitors while the last few couples danced. Finally, they were all called out onto to the stage and the host read the names of the winners.
"In third place, we have Stefan Peters and Mariella Kerr!" Viktor and Natalya forced themselves to clap politely while internally they were cursing Peters.
"In second place, we have Dimitri Lovric and Alena Kroll!" Again, Viktor and Natalya clapped for the second place winners. The odds that he and Natalya had actually won the competition weren't great. As much as Viktor hated Stefan Peters, his dancing wasn't that bad and his fiancé Mariella was very good. If Peters and Kerr had only placed third, it was doubtful that Viktor and Natalya had won. But still, he let himself hope. Natalya gripped his hand anxiously as the host held up the card to read out the names of the winners.
"And our first place winners are Viktor Krum and Natalya Valasek!" The crowd erupted with cheers and congratulatory applause. The host smiled at the pair and beckoned them forward.
"Merlin's shit!" Natalya exclaimed completely shocked. Viktor laughed. He couldn't believe it either. His parents were on their feet clapping as were many of the other audience members. It was just an amateur dance competition but Viktor had finally won! Feeling elated, Viktor impulsively picked Natalya up and spun her around in a circle. He kissed her quickly on the lips and then, immediately after realizing what he'd done, set her back down and stepped away.
A week later, Viktor was still riding a high from having won the dance competition. Natalya however, wasn't ready to stop there. She was determined to keep pushing. She hadn't questioned him about their kiss, she seemed to know that he wasn't ready to talk about it, but she did push the issue of Quidditch.
"My healer told me that he thinks I'm ready to try flying again. That my arm is finally strong enough to play again," she was so exuberant when she told him that Viktor couldn't help but smile.
"Natalya that's great!" he told her earnestly.
"So I was thinking that maybe now that we're not going the dance training anymore, we could fly together after work." Her offer was so genuine and innocent that Viktor felt a bit guilty for his reaction.
"No!" he said immediately.
"We don't have to play Quidditch," she put in immediately, "maybe just fly a couple of loops down at Gospod Pitch." It was a common pitch where a lot of people went to fly around in the summer or on the weekends. Viktor's house of course, had a private pitch in the backyard, but it had fallen to misuse after his retirement.
"Natalya I don't fly anymore. You know that," he reminded her sternly.
"I know but I thought that maybe after we'd won you might be more willing to get back out there," she suggested.
"Well you thought wrong," Viktor told her, trying not to raise his voice.
"So you're just never going to fly again?" Natalya asked not bothering to keep the frustration out of her tone.
"That's the plan," he nodded.
"Viktor you can't hide from it forever! Someday you are going to have to get back on your broomstick!" she yelled. He had no idea why she was so upset. It was his life, his failure, his ended career. Natalya fixed her arm, and that was good for her.
"Listen Nat," he began, struggling to remain passive, "you're all better. And I'm happy for you. If you want to, you should play again. But I'm done with it. That part of my life is over." At that, Natalya made an incoherent noise that was somewhere between a shriek and a yell. Why on earth was she so frustrated?
"You are unbelievable!" she screamed, getting up and preparing to storm out.
"Why do you even care?" he finally asked. "What's it to you if I never ride a broom again?"
"Because I love you, you bloody idiot! And I cannot watch you do this to yourself! You love flying. You love Quidditch. When I came back two months ago I barely even recognized you. You're never going to get over your fear of failure unless you get back out there again!" Viktor barely even had time to react to the fact that she had just told him she loved him.
"I do not have a fear of failure!" he shot back.
"Yes you do!" she replied. "You let it haunt you and ruin you the second you decided to retire. You could have played hundreds of matches on a regular team. You could have had a long and happy career. But you couldn't win that damned World Cup and you let that destroy you."
"You don't know anything about it!" Viktor was really angry now. "The competition killed the game for me. I don't love it anymore."
"Bullshit!" she refused to accept that. "You can tell that lie to yourself all you want Viktor but I know you better than anyone else. I know that's just what you tell yourself because you're too afraid to try and fail again." He couldn't believe her nerve.
"I don't fly anymore," he declared. Natalya gave him a withering look.
"If you change your mind, you know where to find me." And with that, she slammed his own door in his face.
Weeks went by without a word from Natalya. Viktor did not understand her. What kind of woman tells you that she loves you, proceeds to yell at you for being a coward, and then storms off without another word? Apparently Natalya Valasek did.
Sometimes after work, Viktor would walk by Gospod Pitch and watch Natalya fly. He had no intention of joining her he just liked to watch. She used to play Keeper but she had no way to practice her old position without a companion. Instead she would just fly laps around the pitch, occasionally taking shots with a beat up old Quaffle and flying around the hoops to catch the goals after they'd already gone in.
He had to admire her strength. For Viktor, the arm injury would have been enough for him to never play the sport again. But Natalya had instead taken up a job as Quidditch correspondent where she was forced to write about other people living her dream and she never once complained. Then she travelled around the world until she found a healer who could fix her arm. She risked an insane half muggle half magic procedure and endured months of physical therapy. And now she was out there flying around, back on the broomstick. The woman had nerve and Viktor loved that about her.
He was so confused about his feelings for Natalya Valasek. On one hand, she drove him mad. She was energetic and relentless and pushed him further than anyone he'd ever known. But on the other, she was kind and strong, and maybe he needed the occasional shove every now and then.
One morning Viktor woke up to find a note shoved under his front door. It was a newspaper article clipping that said the Bulgarian national team was looking for a new Seeker. Their current Seeker, Rosa Polonsky, was pregnant and with the 2014 World Cup approaching, they needed a replacement. There was no doubt in his mind that Natalya had been the one to shove that article under his door.
Viktor glanced at his calendar. It was a Saturday. There was a chance that Natalya was still at home eating breakfast, but there was an even greater chance she was already awake and at Gospod Pitch. He walked over to the library and looked up at the shelf where he kept his old Nimbus 2500. It was terribly outdated by now but it would work well enough for a few laps around the pitch. Shouldering his old broomstick, Viktor set out to find Natalya.
Just as he expected, she was already flying in circles. Her blonde hair whipped behind her as she turned the corners. Sighing, Viktor swung his leg over the broom and hesitantly took flight. He expected his first time back on a broom to be awkward and jarring but it wasn't. As soon as he was in the air, Viktor knew exactly what to do. He flew higher and higher until he was level with Natalya. She smiled when she saw him.
"Fancy meeting you here," she greeted him casually.
"You put that article under my door," he said to her, not asked. It wasn't a question. They both knew she did it.
"You're only 37. They've had players as old as 43 in the World Cup," was her response. Viktor shook his head.
"The tryout is two months from now," he pointed out. There was no way he could be ready in two months.
"I taught you the Viennese Waltz in two months. I think we can handle Quidditch."
And handle it they did. With a few charms, Natalya had the pitch behind Vitkor's house cleared and ready for use. They met every day after work for the next two months and worked on re-learning to play the game they both loved. Since Natalya was the Quidditch correspondent, she filled Viktor in on some rule changes and new maneuvers that had been introduced to the game after his retirement. She also researched the other seekers who she thought might be trying out for the position so they could work on making Viktor better than them. Viktor also gave her money to purchase him a new broom. He needed a top racing broom if he had any hope of making the team but he wanted to train in secret so it was imperative that no one know Viktor Krum bought a new broomstick.
Day after day, they worked on getting Viktor's skills back to where they used to be. Flying came back much quicker than Viktor imagined it would. It was still instinctual to him. His new broom responded to the lightest of touches. And as much as Viktor hated to admit it, his dance training actually made him a more agile flier.
"You should come to the tryout tomorrow," Viktor suggested as they sat in his kitchen the night before the big day. "The team is set besides the Seeker but they might need some reserve players."
"No," Natalya shook her head, "I'm still not at the level I was back in school. There's no way they would take me." Viktor nodded. It was true. While Natalya's arm was strong enough to play again, it was a lot harder for her to retrain and relearn everything that was necessary to become a Keeper. Flying had always been natural for Viktor and aside from the ability to see and catch a ball, not many other skills were needed to be a Seeker. Keepers, on the other hand, often had to be the most athletic member of the team.
"Do you think you could come anyway?" Viktor asked. Truthfully, he wanted Natalya there for support. He was always more confident with her at his side.
"I don't think that they would let a journalist watch their tryouts," she replied smiling. She had a good point. "In fact, I don't think there are any spectators allowed, except for maybe the family members."
"So come as my family," Viktor suggested. Natalya shook her head.
"Don't be silly. You're famous. Everyone knows your family and that I am not a part of it," she reminded him. "It's getting late, I should go." Natalya yawned as she stood up to leave.
"I don't want you to go," Viktor admitted. Her eyes widened. "I'm a nervous wreck," he confessed, "and I always feel better with you around."
"You need to get some sleep," she pointed out. "It's late and you've got to be in top form tomorrow." She was right of course, Natalya was always right.
"I'll sleep better if you stay," Viktor found himself saying. He had no idea what had come over him. Apparently, either did Natalya. Her eyes got even bigger in her surprise at his behavior. She opened her mouth to reply but then closed it quickly. Natalya didn't know what to say. That, Viktor thought to himself wryly, had to be a first.
"I suppose I could stay in one of the guest rooms," she conceded. Her voice was full of hesitance.
"Not in the guest rooms," Viktor said shaking his head. Natalya raised her eyebrows at him as she caught onto his meaning.
"Viktor that's weird, even for us that's weird. I'm not sleeping in your bed," she shook her head defiantly. He wondered what she meant by saying 'even for us'. Did she think that their relationship was odd? Well, Viktor reasoned, it was quite odd.
"I just feel better when you're with me," he said simply.
"I can't. I'm sorry but I can't," Natalya sighed turning again to leave.
"Why not?" Viktor called out to her turned back. He watched as her shoulders tensed.
"I promised myself I wouldn't push the issue Viktor but right now if you make me answer that question you won't be giving me a choice in the matter," she told him shaking her head.
"What does that even mean?" he was thoroughly confused.
"I can't stay with you like that okay? Can't we just leave it at that?" Natalya asked. Her voice had taken on a hint of desperation.
"Why not?" he repeated. "I promise I wouldn't try to make a move on your or anything!" Natalya let out a frustrated cry.
"That's the problem!" she exclaimed throwing her hands into the air. Viktor was dumbfounded, how could that be a problem? "I've had feelings for you for Merlin knows how long!" she declared. For someone who supposedly had feelings for him, Natalya was glaring at Viktor quite viciously. "Since school probably. But then that Hermione Granger broke your heart and I knew better than to try and get involved. And then things got complicated with my arm and your Quidditch and I left but then I came back." She was rambling but somehow Viktor managed to follow everything she said. "And then we danced and you kissed me and I thought maybe you'd finally caught on but you never said anything about it after that. I figured it was because you regretted it and so I never brought it up. Even if you didn't like me like that I still wanted to be your friend. And then I screwed everything up and told you I loved you and you ignored that too! I mean a woman can take a hint! But I cannot torture myself by staying here with you tonight. I will not put myself through the pain of laying there wanting you while you are completely indifferent towards me."
"You liked me since school," Viktor said numbly. Natalya rolled her eyes.
"Out of everything I've just said, that's what you take away?" she shook her head. "I'm going to leave now." For the third time that night, Natalya started to leave. Impulsively, Viktor reached out and grabbed her hand. He pulled her back in to him.
"You," he said firmly, "are never going to leave me again." Natalya opened her mouth, probably to ask what he meant, but Viktor didn't give her the chance. Instead, he silenced her with a searing kiss. Merlin, it was about bloody time. He'd gotten so used to having Natalya around he never quite realized what was staring him right in the face. The reason he felt so comfortable around her, the reason she was able to convince him to fly again, the reason he kissed her, the reason he felt better with her by his side was simply because he loved her.
The next morning, Natalya put up a small fight about accompanying Viktor to the tryout but he would not have it any other way. In the end, the two of them ended up apparating to the Bulgarian National training center where the tryouts were being held. Viktor checked in with all the appropriate people but when they got to the final round of sign ins, they were stopped.
"Excuse me miss, but are you trying out?" the guard asked.
"Er no," Natalya replied guiltily.
"Then I'm afraid I'm going to have to stop you here. You can wait until the tryouts are over." Viktor would not have that.
"She's here with me," Viktor told the man as he wrapped his arm around Natalya's shoulders.
"I'm sorry but we only let family in," the guard informed them.
"Excellent," Viktor replied, "seeing as Nat's my fiancé we should have no problem then." To Natalya's credit, she didn't even protest she just went with it. She stayed completely silent until they were on the pitch.
"Seeing as Nat's my fiancé we should have no problem?" she repeated his words back incredulously. "What were you thinking lying like that?!"
"It doesn't have to be a lie," Viktor suggested with mock innocence.
"We haven't even been on a date!" she protested.
"Dates are for people who don't already know each other. I've known you for most of my life. I've loved your for more than half of it even if I didn't know it at the time," Viktor admitted. "I don't see why we shouldn't get married."
"What if you hate the way I eat or if I can't stand your snoring or we fight all the time and end up hating each other?" Natalya was still not convinced.
"I do hate the way you eat," Viktor reminded her. "Who eats cereal as a snack? And there is no way you will be able to stand my snoring, but I'm pretty sure there are spells for that. We've already fought and we ended up loving each other not hating each other." Natalya just stared at him as if he'd completely lost his mind. "You don't have to answer me right now but just so you know, if you stick around for much longer, I am going to marry you." And with that, he headed off to his tryout bustling with the kind of confidence he only got from being around Natalya.
One year later, at the ripe old age of 38, Viktor Krum was on track to becoming an International Quidditch champion. As the Seeker for the Bulgarian National Quidditch team, he was finally going to win the Quidditch World Cup. Viktor had been poised for this particular victory twice before but he failed to come home victorious. This time, everything was different. He had a beautiful wife with whom he was madly in love, he had loving and supportive parents that truly did not care whether he won or lost the game, only this time Viktor actually understood that, and he still had his old competitive streak but it was tempered with determination and maturity that he'd previously lacked.
The best part was, unlike his previous two World Cup appearances, no one expected him to win. Everyone seriously doubted him. The critics had written him off as a washed up has been. In fact, his wife, Natalya Krum, was the only Quidditch correspondent who predicted a Bulgarian victory that resulted from his capture of the Snitch. It was vastly different, entering a competition without expectations. Viktor loved it.
He kissed his wife goodbye as she set off with the rest of the journalists and he joined his team in the locker rooms. The final match against Brazil was just moments away. Viktor looked around at his teammates. Most of them were at least ten years his junior. They all looked incredibly tense.
"Mates," he said to them, "I've been through this twice before. You know what they say, the third time's the charm. We've got this one in the bag. If nothing else, my karma owes me one." His team laughed nervously but it seemed that Viktor had broken the tension. Finally, the announcer called for their appearance and they flew out to take their places on the pitch.
The game reminded him oddly of his first World Cup. Brazil wore green just as Ireland had. Unfortunately for Viktor, it looked like the Brazilian chasers were just as good as the Irish had been all those years ago. Brazil scored the first goal of the game. Thankfully Levski was able to tie it back up. Viktor flew high above the rest of the players. Despite his older age, his eyesight was just as good as it had been when he was a teenager. He could search for the snitch from a much greater height than Silva, the Brazilian Seeker.
About an hour and forty minutes into the game, Viktor spotted the Snitch near the Brazilian goalposts. He launched himself into a dive with Silva hot on his tail. Viktor was the faster flyer of the two and he thought he had the Snitch but just as he was about to close his hand around the tiny gold ball, it soared up and away from the Seekers.
Viktor cursed internally. He'd been so close he could practically feel the wings fluttering at his fingertips. His team was going to need him to catch the Snitch if they wanted to win the game. He seriously doubted that his teammates were going to overtake the Brazilian Chasers.
At about two hours into the game, Viktor felt a very painful thump on the back of his head. Was it a bludger? He spun his broom around to find that the idiot Brazilian Beater Santos had hit him on the head with his bat. Luckily, the referee had seen the obvious foul and paused the game. Much to Viktor's surprise, Santos genuinely didn't meant to hit him. The idiot kept apologizing over and over again and the referee confirmed the fact that it had been an accident. Sighing, and stifling a bloody nose, Viktor told the referee he was fit to continue playing.
Then, two minutes later, he saw it. The Snitch and damn Silva had seen it first. Viktor rocketed upward, urging his broom to go faster. Blood poured rapidly down his neck as he flew higher and higher at a breakneck speed. Just once, Viktor thought to himself, he'd like to catch the Snitch in a World Cup without a bloody nose. Was it really so much to ask? But perhaps, when he'd joked casually about karma owing him one with his team minutes before the match, Viktor had been correct. It seemed oddly fitting that he needed to sustain an injury in order to catch the Snitch just as he'd done back in '94. But this time, he was going to win. Viktor pushed himself to fly higher and faster and even though he was staring right into the sun he could see the Snitch fluttering right in front of him. He was neck and neck with Silva, both of them had their hands outstretched. They were equal, they both had a shot at it. But Viktor simply wanted it more. He pushed and stretched and reached and his fingers clasped around the tiny gold ball and he'd finally done it. He'd won the Quidditch World Cup.
There were no words to describe the moment that followed his capture of the Snitch. In a daze of blood and tears he glided slowly back down to the ground. He was barely aware of the fact that Silva had embraced him; his opponent congratulated him on the victory. His teammates zoomed down to where he stood and immersed him in a massive huddle. Viktor couldn't believe it. Finally, he'd won. He went temporarily deaf to the sound of the crowd roaring and his teammates screaming in delight. All he could think was that he needed to see the look on Natalya's face. He looked up at the journalist's box and grinned. She was jumping up and down on her chair hugging Ginny Potter from behind. Ginny looked slightly alarmed at having been accosted in such a manner but she must have understood his wife's enthusiasm because she let Natalya continue to scream into her ear.
As the Argentine Minister of Magic raised the trophy into his hands Viktor started crying all over again. He was so overcome with emotion at finally having achieved his life's dream. He was vaguely aware of the announcer asking him a questioned.
"Viktor, no one thought you had it in you. They all said you were too old and too out of practice. What do you have to say now that you've won?"
"There are no words to describe this feeling right now," Viktor admitted. And there honestly weren't. "A lot of people doubted that I would ever reach this point but here I am with the Snitch in my hand and a win for my country. It was a long journey but I made it. And I would like to thank my parents who taught me to want success but were always proud of me no matter what. And I would also like to thank the love of my life, Natalya, for pushing me harder than anyone I've ever known and for always believing in me, even when I didn't believe in myself."