July 1996 -- Spinner's End
"You know, I'm kind of impressed, Severus. It's good to see you getting your hands dirty again."
"This is just Lucius's punishment. Draco is no more capable of murdering than he is of sprouting wings. We both know that."
"That's why he needs you to baby-sit him, Severus. Can't say I approve of you being the one to do it, but no one else at Hogwarts has the sense to leave the losing side." A snort. "A sinking ship, the Order," she mocked the word through her nasal passages. "Can't see why they all stick to it. Now then. What's this business you've wanted so badly to tell me about what's-his-face from that country. Not the one with the dragons, the one with the rubbish of a Quidditch team that still wins somehow." Waving a bony hand about, she squinted trying to remember.
"Bulgaria."
"Bulgaria! Yes, who's that Bulgarian pretty boy you're bringing in? Your special reinforcements?" Bellatrix laughed to herself.
Snape didn't join in. "Viktor Krum. And he's hardly a 'pretty boy', Bella."
"Krum? His name is Krum? Oh that won't do that won't do. Sounds far too much like a Muggle."
"It's the name he's been raised with. It's not his. His mother's brother has been raising him. A Mr. Gregor Krum and his wife Salina. Pureblood. Wealthy. Heavy supporters of the Durmstrang Institute. Very anti-Ministry."
"Well that explains a lot then, do' nit?" Another short fit of giggles. "Is he even out of school yet? How did you convince good old Dumbledore to hire him?"
"There have been a lot of complaints to the Headmaster about the failing Quidditch opportunities at Hogwarts. Since Umbridge all but destroyed the sport last year, the Headmaster thinks it only fair to reinstate it with a bang. A new teacher who can just as well coach the four teams. Krum's an international player, one of the best in the world even. And he's already been to Hogwarts. Over a year ago. Triwizard Tournament."
"Oh, yes, I heard all about his little stunt in that. Almost wasted Potter before he got to the graveyard, didn't he?"
Snape smirked slightly. "But he didn't. Krum's a stupid dog, but he's an obedient one."
"If he's so stupid why do you want him at Hogwarts?"
Annoyed with having to answer the question, Snape growled through gritted teeth, "Because. He's entangled in a mess there's no use in getting out of. Krum is involved. Whether he knows it or not, he's involved. And at Hogwarts, I can watch him. Closely."
"What, so he wants to become one of us then?"
"No." A pause. "No, I don't believe he does. All the same, the Dark Lord needs him. The reasons why will become clear over time."
Unsatisfied and brimming with curiosity, Bellatrix 'hmphed' and announced that she was leaving. "Well, Severus, this has been a wonderful evening. I'll see you when you decide to mess everything up at Hogwarts and I have to come fish you out of the fire."
Snape stared into the black unblinkingly until Bellatrix had left. Cursing to himself he threw a table over and slouched into his chair. Reflex took over and his arm numbly raised, the words coldly passing his lips, and the ecstasy of a white mist filled the room. A silvery doe rested its head on his shoulder. And Severus Snape was happy -- happy in his memories and his lies -- if only for a moment.
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24 June 1995 -- The Maze on the Quidditch Pitch
Endless. The endless awful green everywhere. There was no escaping it, no escaping it. She would stumble out of the maze, look up to see those three stupid boys laughing and cheering for their victory. And then they would look up and shout, "Look at poor Fleur. She couldn't keep up and finished last." Oh what would Madame Maxime say?
Wait. A shadow. Was that a shadow behind her? Platinum locks of hair whipped over her face, cutting into the skin as if they had been made of the sharpest metal. She could feel her eyes pushing out from her skull, desperately trying to find the thing that had haunted her since her arrival in the maze. And then there was something behind her. Something. Something silently threatening her. Lips trembling she slowly turned whispering, "Aidez-moi…" Her sky blue eyes managed to trace across those of stormy grey, a strange glint of a green in them that made her want to scream. She never managed a sound.
Searing pain, exploding through her body. She felt her feet wrenched out from under her, and her head colliding with the ground with splitting force. Dazed her eyes rolled to her attacker. A tall boy, her age, Durmstrang eagle painted red across his chest. It was that Bulgarian oaf several of her fellow Beauxbatons had been stupidly swooning over. Disgusting. He was different, though. This wasn't the clumsy, rather rash boy who had put a blanket over her shoulders when she returned empty-handed from the lake challenge. Not the same one who had used magic so unlike that of his schoolmates to pull a lollypop out from behind her sister's ear, then had given her such a warm smile. Her sister had been crying and inconsolable, but Gabrielle had been delightfully charmed at the heavily accented words that Durmstrang had managed to get out. "Don't ve sad now, okay? There iz nothing to be avraid of." But now as the Beauxbaton champion stared up at him, there was nothing in the world more frightening then he. Fleur shook violently, feeling the tears coming no matter how she fought to keep the dazed look of terror from her expression. She stared at his strange, clouded eyes. Was he under the Imperius curse? No, Fleur had seen the effects of that forbidden spell. Something seemed off about this case, something not quite right. But then that awful green swept over her and she was dragged into its depth, staring all the while at Viktor Krum, who silently stared back.
She knew she shouldn't have put her name in that stupid cup.
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1 September 1996 -- Hogwarts Express
He couldn't breathe. The prat had gone and broken his nose. Wasn't petrifying him and leaving him for expulsion enough? Not for Malfoy. Blood drained into his mouth as Harry lay under the cloak: his most prized possession that had somehow turned into his downfall. He couldn't move, couldn't make a sound. Glorious. Just glorious.
It seemed like an eternity before she found him. Good old Tonks. It was a blur to the feast, but somehow he managed to slip in relatively unnoticed. Just in time for announcements no less.
"Harry, where have you been?" Hermione worriedly asked, immediately noticing the dried blood still hidden in the crevices of his nostrils. "What happened?"
"I'm fine, Hermione, really."
"Won't be for long. Take a look up there." Ron nodded towards the teacher's table, half the room looking in the same direction.
"What?" Harry turned and looked.
"Guess who the new flying instructor is."
His brain slowly put the face to the name and just as Dumbledore stood to address the Great Hall, he uttered, "Viktor Krum…?"
"Well then. Before we dig in, I suppose a few words had best be said. To all our returning students and staff, welcome back. And to our first years, a warm welcome as well. I'd like to tell you all about a few changes this year. As many of you know, Professor Umbridge has resigned from her position as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor…"
A loud cheer went up.
Dumbledore lifted his hand to quiet the students but could hardly stop himself from smiling. "And as such our own Professor Snape will be replacing her. I expect you will all excel exceedingly under his tutelage."
Ron's nose crinkled and a look of pale terror appeared on Neville Longbottom's face. The Slytherin table, however, cheered (several older students even standing and applauding) when Snape stood and nodded curtly. They all knew it would happen eventually; Snape had been after that job for years.
"However, I'm sure you're all thinking, 'But what about potions?'. Ah, have no fear. Professor Snape's replacement for the position of Potion's Master is not without his credentials. In fact, Professor Slughorn is a returning teacher, having taught potions at Hogwarts before. Rest assured, you are learning from the best."
"Oh, you're too kind, Albus." A walrus-sized man adorned in embroidered suits a size too small and watery gooseberry eyes stood smiling at the room. An awkward applause greeted him.
Dumbledore resumed his speech with the usual "Mr. Filch would like to remind you" set of rules for Hogwarts. Only the first years paid any attention. "Oh, I've nearly forgotten. Our beloved flying professor, Madame Hooch, had a bit of a run in with a rogue graphorn on her backpacking trip through the mountains of Italy this past summer. She is recovering well from her injuries, but has taken the opportunity to have an early retirement. Although she will be missed, I'm sure you will all be very excited to meet, or rather be reintroduced, to your new flying instructor. Many of you have met this rather famous Quidditch player before, but as one of your own contemporaries. Now, if you would all please welcome him back to Hogwarts: Professor Krum."
At the end of the table seated between Professor Vector and Professor Burbage, he stood and smiled that same maladroit, yet charming, smile. Viktor Krum looked much the same he had when he had entered the Great Hall with such a bang two years before. Although clean-shaven and Durmstrang buzz cut grown out ever so slightly, he bore the same demeanor as always. His robes were relatively simple, a dark reddish-brown color that was reminiscent of much of Durmstrang's attire (minus the fur), and he wore black gloves as well as a thick dark undershirt with a high collar. Krum was obviously freezing -- the climates of Scotland and the mountains of the far north were a bit different, but without his huge coat and roaring fires of Durmstrang, Hogwarts seemed far colder. Slightly misplaced (he was far more comfortable on a broom then on the ground, everyone knew that) and with shoulders rolled back to lengthen his already tall stature, he nodded to the students staring up at him. His dark eyes swept over the Gryffindor table as he sat down.
Hermione ducked her head.
"Well then. The time for speech making has finally passed. Let's eat!" Dumbledore took his seat and picked up a conversation with Professor McGonagall.
And as the roar of conversation began, Harry and Ron turned to the third leg of their trio, half with amusement and half with concern. "Are you going to do that every time he looks in your general direction?" Harry asked. Ron quickly added with a scoff in his voice, "He's a teacher now, Hermione. It's not like he expects you to go out with him or something. Besides, he was inducted into the Quidditch Hall of Fame last month, remember? Best Seeker of the Century or something. He probably has millions of groupies by now. "
Hermione lifted her head and stared at him in angered shock. "You are unbelievable! Is that what you think I wanted to hear - that he's snogged half of Europe? I don't think he's going to ask me out, Ronald. It's just… just awkward! You would know if you'd have had any personal experience!"
Ron reddened as he stared back at her.
Harry proceeded to stuff his face with turkey.
Other Gryffindors joined in the conversation. Ginny began discussing Quidditch with Harry (she seemed to be the only member of Dumbledore's Army excited about learning from the Bulgarian Seeker) and Lavender Brown resumed the endless flirting with Ron she had begun on the train ride to Hogwarts.
Disgusted and rather bored (the first day was always the worst as there was no class) she found her eyes drifting to Viktor. He was in a deep conversation with Professor Vector. Hermione couldn't help but feel a bit of respect slip through her mind. The arithmancy professor rarely spoke to much of anyone, let alone the flying instructor, who many of the Hogwarts staff did not consider to be a real teacher.
Eventually their conversation ended and Professor Vector laughed, apparently charmed by the youngest Hogwarts teacher, and turned to Professor Flitwick. Then he looked at her.
Hermione felt her heart skip a beat. Not in the same way as so many of her lovesick peers felt, but almost scared. Contradicting how hard she worked to not care what others thought of her, she found herself scared silly by what her fellow Gryffindors might say. Everyone knew she had been involved with Viktor, no matter how briefly. They had been the talk of the Yule Ball, for pity's sake. Someone like Hermione Granger didn't show up with someone like Viktor Krum and go unnoticed. And on top of it all, everyone knew that he'd kissed her. Her first kiss. For all she knew, he could have been the worst kisser in the world, but to her it had seemed flawless, like something from a movie. Not like she'd had a lot of background on the subject, yet it had seemed utterly perfect at the time. Viktor had a way of making her forget things. Forget her troubles, forget her worries. She wished there were other boys who made her feel that way - like ones who weren't a teacher. At least only first years took flight classes and Quidditch players would be the only ones who would have to deal with Krum. As long as she stayed away from Harry's practices… oh what was she doing? This was ridiculous.
Hermione smiled at the new flying instructor, having realized that she was still stuck in her mental monologue. What was she going to do - hide for the rest of her time at Hogwarts? No, he was just her friend - her pen pal. They wrote a few letters back and forth each month, that's all! As long as she didn't get defensive or talk about him too much, no one would suspect they were carrying on a relationship. Her hand lifted on it's own and she waved slightly.
He smiled back and returned the greeting discretely. The same thing that occupied Hermione's mind was probably plaguing his as well. Maybe. Probably not.
She was snapped back to reality as a spoonful of custard splattered onto her left cheek. First years…
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I do not own Harry Potter. Or Viktor Krum. Or graphorns.