Summary: This fanfic will go from book four to book seven, with all those missing moments we wanted! Canon compatible. I know J.K dropped subtle hints throughout – anyone could've seen it coming – because it's not in her style to be OTT, but I always wanted to make my contribution to the couple. So here it is.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise.

A/N This chapter has a bit of Hermione/Krum mixed in – but the story is still R/Hr. Review me, let me know whether or not to carry on!

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Chapter One

Hermione Granger, renowned for being the most irritating know-it-all in her school year, would have described herself as a realist. While the other fourth year girls talked about boys, clothes, dates, make-up and the Yule Ball, Hermione spent her time researching House Elf enslavement in the school library. It wasn't that she had no interest in any of those things; it was more that she had no interest in wasting away her life dreaming of them when they would almost certainly never come true. Besides she had more important things to be getting on with; like S.P.E.W. Being best friends with Harry and Ron for four years had meant Hermione had been given a gift, an insight into the mind of a fourteen year old boy. And what she had seen there was a total incapacity for understanding the opposite sex; especially where Ron was concerned. Hermione figured that neither of them particularly knew what a girl was just yet; this was made obvious to everyone by their fruitless and almost pathetic attempts to get themselves a date for the ball. Harry had a crush on Cho Chang; that was extremely palpable, whereas Ron seemed to have warmed up to Fleur Delacour; the stunning Beauxbatons champion who he remained adamant was part Veela. Hermione thought it was almost pitiful to watch him drooling over her day after day, knowing that he had no chance whatsoever. Or it would have been pitiful, had it not made her feel sick to her stomach. Hermione had carefully managed to put aside her ridiculous feelings when she realised what they were, telling herself it was only a silly schoolgirl crush, because honestly she had no idea what to do with them just yet. But it did not mean watching Ron gawping at other girls was ever a barrel of laughs. So determined was she to distance herself from her feelings that she never opened her eyes to see that he subconsciously returned them. And that was why, the day when Victor Krum had nervously approached her and asked her to be his date to the Yule Ball, she could not help but get just a little bit caught up in him.

Hermione could convince herself she was as high and mighty as she liked, tell herself she was above such things as crushes, tell herself her academics were much more important…tell herself she didn't need any of it. But when someone seemed genuinely interested in her, like Victor Krum did; it seemed to awaken something inside of her. Walking in the grounds with him asking her question after question about her life, her family, Hogwarts, her friends, she realised it was the first time a boy had ever seen her in this way. Usually she was just Hermione, brainiac extraordinaire; always with her head in a book. She was the girl who trailed after Harry Potter, the boy who lived, and his red haired sidekick Ron Weasley. But Hermione quickly realised Krum had no interest in Harry whatsoever, all he cared about getting to know was her. And then she knew what it was everyone meant when they went on and on about teen romance; then, she understood what it was all about. Because talking, laughing and dancing with Viktor…kissing Viktor, had been one of the most magical experiences of her life to date. Their first kiss had been under the beech tree, one particularly brisk winter evening a few nights before the ball. Hermione had cast an invisible bubble around them as protection from the cold, and there they had been huddled under the tree, both wistfully watching the sails of the Durmstrang ship ripple in the wind and talking about Hermione's first signs of magic.

"It was when I was three," Hermione was saying. "I don't really remember, but my parents have told me all about it. My parents had used one of those child proofing things on the stairs; and I wanted to come downstairs. So one day when I was trying to get past it, it just disappeared! They were really shocked; they thought they must've been going mad! They're…they're muggles, you know…" she blushed slightly. It was common knowledge that almost every Durmstrang student was pureblood. She had managed to glaze over the fact that she was muggleborn during most of their talks; but she assumed he must have known, there was no 'Granger' wizarding family. However, speaking it out in the open was a little scary; she sincerely hoped he was not put out by it. She looked up into Krum's face to see it marked with confusion.

"Vot is the matter, Herm-own-ninny?" he asked, frowning slightly.

She restrained a laugh at his attempt to pronounce her name, and replied lamely;

"I just…I don't know if you…well, I'm muggleborn…"

His eyes dawned with realisation and the corners of his mouth twitched as he looked down at her worried expression. He told her gently that he really hoped she did not think of him in that way.

"There is certain prejudice, at my school," he confessed. "But I am not like zat, I haff nothing against muggles…I like you very much, you are a very special person," he smiled at her. Hermione thought it was amazing that his usual surly features could be brightened so much, just by her. All her.

Special, he had said.

And that was how she felt. As he turned her around in his arms, and their fingers entwined as they leaned in towards each other, their lips brushing together, Hermione forgot who she had thought she was, and became someone new.

The night of the ball had been just as wonderful; she had been up there with him all night, living the dream. Every girl in the room had been eyeing her with jealousy and distaste, and she could not have cared less. Nothing could have ruined her happy ending, even when Ron had walked right past her spitefully, without giving her a second glance before it had started. That is, nothing could ruin it, until she came to sit down beside her friends and said;

"It's hot isn't it? Viktor's just gone to get some drinks."

"Viktor?" Ron had said. "Hasn't he asked you to call him Vicky yet?"

She looked at him in surprise. She tried to comprehend what she might've done to upset him, but to no avail. So she asked;

"What's up with you?"

"If you don't know," Ron replied scathingly, "I'm not going to tell you."

Hermione glanced at Harry for support but he merely shrugged.

"Ron, what--" she tried again, but he interrupted her before she could ask.

"He's from Durmstrang!" Ron spat. "He's competing against Harry! Against Hogwarts! You – you're--" He was obviously casting around for words strong enough to describe Hermione's crime, "fraternising with the enemy, that's what you're doing!"

Hermione's mouth fell open.

"Don't be so stupid!" she said after a moment of trying to find something to say back to this ridiculous proclamation. "The enemy! Honestly – who was the one who was all excited when they saw him arrive? Who was the one who wanted his autograph? Who's got a model of him up in their dormitory?"

Ron chose to ignore this, and asked; "I s'pose he asked you to come with him while you were both in the library?"

Hermione couldn't imagine why he should care about that. What did it matter where he had asked her? To her horror she suddenly felt very uncomfortably hot. Was she blushing?

"Yes, he did," she replied, pink patches glowing brightly in her cheeks.

"What happened – trying to get him to join spew were you?"

Why was Ron asking her all these questions? She felt herself getting angry; why was what was happening between her and Viktor any of his business?

"No, I wasn't! If you really want to know, he – he said he'd been coming up to the library every day to try and talk to me, but he hadn't been able to pluck up the courage!"

Now she knew she was flushing as deep as the colour of Parvati's robes, and she couldn't understand why. Why did she always feel so uncomfortable and different whenever Ron was around? It was not as though she had done anything wrong. Harry was shifting uncomfortably in his seat, determined not to be a part of the argument, and Hermione threw him an agitated look. Meanwhile Ron's expression of rage had faltered slightly to be replaced with confusion and hurt, but he quickly recovered, retorting nastily;

"Yeah, well – that's his story."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Obvious, isn't it? He's Karkaroff's student isn't he? He knows who you hang around with…he's just trying to get closer to Harry – get inside information on him – or get near enough to jinx him."

Hermione felt as though Ron had slapped her. How—dare—he? Viktor wasn't using her! He liked her…he thought she was…he thought she was special. But even now as she thought it, she realised it sounded ridiculous. Of course he had said that…but who would honestly think she was special? She mentally cursed herself for believing it; she cursed herself for letting her guard down. She was supposed to be a realist, and yet here she was with her head up in the clouds. But she wasn't going to give in to Ron; she had to convince him he was wrong.

"For your information he hasn't ask me one single thing about Harry, not one--" she said, eyes flashing dangerously.

Ron changed tack at the speed of light. "Then he's hoping you'll help him find out what his egg means! I suppose you've been putting your heads together during those cosy little library sessions--"

"I'd never help him work out that egg!" Hermione said, outraged. "Never. How could you say something like that – I want Harry to win the Tournament. Harry knows that, don't you Harry?"

But Ron interrupted before Harry had a chance.

"You've got a funny way of showing it," he sneered.

"This whole tournament's supposed to know about getting to know foreign wizards and making friends with them! International magical co-operation!" she said shrilly.

"No it isn't!" Ron shouted. "It's about winning!"

Hermione looked at him in disgust. Whatever had gotten his wand in a knot was not very becoming. Other heads had also turned in their direction; causing Harry to speak up for the first time.

"Ron," he said quietly. "I haven't got a problem with Hermione coming with Krum--"

Ron just ignored him.

"Why don't you go and find Vicky, he'll be wondering where you are," said Ron.

"Don't call him Vicky!" Hermione jumped to her feet and stormed off across the dance floor, disappearing into the crowd.

She searched the mass of people fruitlessly for Viktor, but all she could see was Ron laughing at her. People were glancing at her very unsubtly; wondering what had gone down between them. Suddenly she just wanted to hide away in her dormitory; Ron had spoilt everything. She pushed her way through the dancing couples to the doors, and ran head long into Viktor. He looked startled to see her face was tearstained, and she took an urgent step backwards. He placed a steadying hand on her shoulder and asked;

"Vot is wrong? Are you okay?"

She gave him a weak smile, and bowed her head slightly.

"I just had an argument with my friend…that's all."

There was a small silence where Hermione decided Krum didn't have much of a way with words.

"Vould you like to dance?" he suggested, wiping her tears away with his thumb.

Looking up at him and seeing his worried expression, she gave him another twitchy smile and nodded. Of course he wasn't using her. He looked genuinely concerned. And when had he ever asked her about anything to do with the Tournament? Or Harry? She couldn't pretend to understand what he saw in her, but there was obviously something. He draped an arm around her shoulders and led her back in.

But her heart was no longer in it. As Krum tried to recreate the mood, Hermione kept going over Ron's words in her mind. What on earth had gotten into him? Was he…was he jealous? When she eventually said goodbye to Krum at the foot of the marble staircase and headed back up the common room, feeling utterly fed up, she decided she wanted nothing more than to hex Ron into oblivion.

"Fairy lights," she said miserably to the portrait.

"Had a rough night, love?" the fat lady replied sympathetically. Hermione ignored her, and clambered through the portrait hole.

There she collapsed onto a chair, look rather bedraggled. The night had taken its toll in more ways than one; her hair was falling out of it's elegant bun, and the Sleekeasy's hair potion was beginning to wear off, rendering her hair rather frazzled, her make-up was smudged and her feet were swollen. She had just taken off her shoes and begun massaging her aching feet, when Ron came into the common room, his expression stony. She saw him approach her out of the corner of her eye and groaned inwardly; he did not look as though he was here to apologise and if he wasn't she had nothing else to say to him.

"Hey, 'Mione!" he called to her.

"What?" she asked wearily.

"You walked off!" he accused, coming to a halt in front of her.

"Look, if you want another argument I'm really not--"

"I don't want an argument!" he bellowed. "I want to know why you went to the ball with Viktor Krum!"

"Because he asked me!" she said shrilly.

"WELL, WHY DID YOU SAY YES?!"

"Why wouldn't I?!" she cried. "Someone takes an interest in me for once and I'm supposed to say no?!"

"He's not the only one who has an interest in you--" Ron said a little more quietly, before he clapped a hand to his mouth and his ear tips coloured considerably. Hermione bit back the retort she had been preparing, and instead she asked softly;

"What?"

"Well…I'm just saying--" Ron spluttered, "I'm sure there are plenty of other people you could've gone with! Like…Harry…or--or me. Why did you have to go with the opposition! You should've gone with someone from Hogwarts!"

"Don't tell me what to do! I don't know what's gotten into you but you're being pathetic!"

She turned to go up the staircase to bed, too confused to know what else to do, and just as she arrived at the foot of the stairs Ron shouted after her;

"What's he got?! What's he got that…other people, haven't?! You and him going together…it's just not right!"

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. Everything suddenly clicked into place, and she spun around, red in the face with anger and frustration, to see Harry come in through the portrait hole. By now she had lost all fear of embarassment, so she just yelled at Ron outright;

"Well, if you don't like it, you know what the solution is, don't you?"

"Oh, yeah? Ron roared back. "What's that?!"

"Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!"

Ron mouthed soundlessly like a goldfish out of water and as Hermione turned on her heel and stormed up the girl's staircase to bed. Ron turned to look at Harry pleadingly.

"Well," Ron spluttered, looking thunderstruck, "well – that just proves – completely missed the point -"

Harry hadn't said anything back to his friend; he liked being back on speaking terms with Ron too much to speak his mind just then. But as they went up to bed and he realised Ron must have been lying awake due to the absence of his snoring, he privately felt Hermione had got the point much better than Ron had.

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The next morning, Hermione was seated by a window in the common room, sucking on the end of her quill and trying to think how best to rephrase a poorly written sentence of her Potions essay. But with the second task well on the way and last night's argument with Ron still all too clear in her mind, she couldn't concentrate.

"Next time ask me before someone else does…!"

She winced at what she had said. What if she had made a huge assumption? What if Ron really did just think Hermione was, 'fraternising with the enemy'? She then heard his voice echoing inside her head, as if on a loop.

"He's not the only one who has an interest in you--"

Just then, Ron came down the staircase from the boys' dormitories looking bleary eyed and ruffling his hair thoughtfully. He looked up to see Hermione eyeing him with surprise. It was seven o' clock in the morning; Ron wasn't usually to be seen until midday during the holidays. Looking closer, she saw that he seemed exhausted; he had obviously not slept well at all.

"Where's Harry?" he asked groggily, craning his neck as if expecting for him to whip off his invisibility cloak.

"Not up yet," she replied lightly. She turned back to her parchment when she felt her cheeks flush. He took a seat across from her and stared out of the window for want of something better to do. After a long stretch of awkward silence, both spoke up at the same time.

"Look, Hermione, I'm--"

"Ron, I don't--"

He grinned sheepishly, and she nodded at him to go first. He cleared his throat and said;

"I'm sorry for how I acted last night. I was just…jealous." It sounded to her as if every word was costing him the world. She smiled at him slightly as her stomach did several back-flips. But she knew that Ron himself didn't even know what it meant to be jealous of her yet; and so she decided on just replying;

"That's okay." She took a small breath and said; "Shall I check over your potions essay for you?"

"Potions essay?" Ron quirked an eyebrow, "Blimey, was that in for today?"

Hermione chuckled softly and rolled her eyes at him.

"One day they'll get stuck there you know," Ron told her.

"What?" she asked, bewildered.

"That's what my Mum always says," Ron's ear tips coloured slightly. "If you roll your eyes too much, they'll get stuck."

Hermione gave a small laugh in spite of herself, and Ron grinned at her again. She took some fresh parchment out of her bag and titled it, telling him she would do the introduction and he would have to do the rest. Gleefully, he agreed, knowing all too well she would end up doing the entire thing. Everything was back to normal, despite how both felt a curious sensation in their pit of their stomachs whenever their hands brushed together under the table.

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A/N So yeah, what do you think? Review!