By Elanor Gamgee
Part 1: Watching Her
Viktor stared down at
the Advanced Transfiguration textbook on the table in front of him. She was back. He'd known she would be, of course. That was why he had come to the library today in the first
place. That was why he had come to the
library nearly every day for the past month.
It hadn't started out
that way; in the beginning, he had merely used the immense Hogwarts library as
a place to go when the Durmstrang ship grew too confining, or when Karkaroff's
rhetoric about how the honor of his school rested upon Viktor's shoulders
became too much to bear. He had come to
Hogwarts for this tournament not expecting much, other than to compete. He certainly hadn't expected to experience
feelings like this—and about a girl with whom he'd never even spoken.
The girl had settled
herself at a table across the library and begun poring over one of the books
from the large stack in front of her.
Viktor watched as she absently twined a strand of her curly brown hair
around her finger, then stopped to scribble something in a notebook. She looked completely absorbed in her work,
and Viktor wondered if she would even notice if he spoke to her.
At that moment, the
girl looked up, and Viktor quickly returned his gaze to the book in front of
him. It was ridiculous, really, that he
was acting this way. Why couldn't he
just go and talk to her? She was alone
now. When he'd first seen her in the
library, she'd always been with that Harry Potter; Viktor had assumed that he
was her boyfriend, and had stayed away.
He'd heard rumors about the two of them as well.
He did know her name,
of course: Hermione Granger. He'd seen
it in that article in the Daily Prophet, the one that had confirmed his
suspicions about her and Potter.
But in his mind, he always thought of her as "she", or "the girl". He wasn't sure why.
He almost felt like he
knew her, though they had never spoken.
He had spent so much time watching her.
He knew, for instance, that she was very studious and cared about her schoolwork. And he knew that she hated the presence of
his giggling fans nearly as much as he did—she frequently rolled her eyes and
left the library when they appeared. In
fact, that what was had first captured his attention. One day he had been sitting at his table, trying to ignore the
high-pitched laughter coming from behind a row of bookshelves, when he had
heard a loud tutting noise. He'd looked
up to see the girl glaring at him, as if the interruption had been his fault
(which, he supposed, in a way it was).
He'd wanted to apologize to her, in that moment, but had found that he
couldn't. She had spoken briefly with
Harry Potter, who'd been seated at the table with her, then had gathered up her
books and left the library, brown curls swinging behind her.
But ever since the
first task, she'd been coming to the library alone every day, something Viktor
found both delightful and frightening.
It meant he no longer had an excuse not to approach her.
Viktor gritted his
teeth and shook his head in disgust.
Why was he making this so difficult on himself? Why couldn't he just learn to like one of
the girls who followed him around, instead of becoming fascinated with one who
clearly disliked him already? He
sneaked another look at the girl. She
was reading her book once again, apparently oblivious to everything else.
Viktor glanced around
the library. It was the middle of the
day, right after lunch, and the room was fairly empty. A boy and girl wearing black Hogwarts robes
were having a quiet conversation in the far corner behind a row of bookshelves,
but he and the girl were the only ones occupying the study tables. There was no sign of the gigglers. He'd never have a better chance to approach
her than he did right now.
Pushing his chair back,
Viktor took a deep breath and stood up.
He closed his book carefully and tucked it under one arm, all the while
not looking at the girl. He knew he
could do this. He had faced a dragon,
after all. Why should talking to a girl
be frightening?
Viktor walked toward
her table. She was still looking down
at the book in front of her, and as he got closer he could see that her lips
were pursed in thought. He was about a
meter away from her table when she looked up and saw him walking towards her.
Talk to her, Viktor ordered himself, as he saw her eyes
narrow, almost suspiciously.
But his mouth did not
want to cooperate. Neither did his
legs, apparently, because they carried him right past her and out the door of
the library.
******************
Foolish, foolish,
foolish! Viktor berated himself
as he threw his Transfiguration book down on his bunk. Why hadn't he
been able to talk to her? She was just
a girl after all.
No. Not just a girl, he thought.
Those gigglers, they were just girls.
She was…something else.
Viktor leaned against
the wall of his cabin, arms crossed, staring out the porthole at the castle in
the distance. She was up there,
probably still sitting at her table in the library, reading her book. He could see her in his mind, the way she
would quickly turn the page, as if eager to see what new information awaited
her. She'd probably been relieved that
he had passed her without speaking; after all, he was from Durmstrang. The look she had given him—
A knock on his cabin
door interrupted his thoughts. "What is
it?" he called tersely, wishing that the person on the other side would just
leave him alone.
"Krum! Open the door!" called a far-too-cheerful
voice. Viktor groaned.
"Go away, Pashnik."
"Krum! Stop playing the moody Slavic man and let me
in."
Viktor rolled his eyes
and reluctantly opened the door. Ivan
Pashnik, a shorter, fair-haired boy, burst into the room.
Viktor folded his arms
again. "What do you want?"
"You heard about the
ball?" Pashnik said.
Viktor frowned. He had no idea what Pashnik was talking
about. Then again, this was nothing
new. Ever since he had entered
Durmstrang Institute, Ivan Pashnik had appointed himself Viktor's best friend. Pashnik's enthusiasm never wavered, even
though Viktor rarely spoke to him and generally preferred to be left
alone. Pashnik was always trying to
make him laugh, something which Viktor found incredibly annoying.
Pashnik was grinning at
him. "The ball?" he said. "The Yule
Ball? The traditional Yule Ball that is
part of the Triwizard Tournament?"
Viktor unfolded his
arms and stared at Pashnik.
"And the champions lead
the dancing," Pashnik continued, his grin growing wider. "The champions and their partners. I saw you storming in here just now. I thought you'd heard."
Viktor frowned
again. "No. I had not heard," he said absently. He was thinking of the girl, and how he now had the perfect
excuse to approach her. He wondered
what she would say if asked her to attend this ball with him? Would she even consider it?
Pashnik seemed
disappointed in his reaction to the news.
He wandered over to Viktor's bedside table, where the golden egg from
the first task sat. "Have you learned
what this means yet?" he asked, picking up the egg and turning it over in his
hands.
"No," said Viktor. "Do not—"
But it was too
late. Pashnik had opened the clasp on
the side of the egg, and hideous wails filled the room. Viktor strode across the cabin in three long
steps and snatched the egg, closing it quickly.
"What was that?" said a
girl's voice at the door. Viktor merely
grunted in response, unwilling to start any more conversations at the
moment.
Pashnik, however,
turned toward the door with an enormous smile on his face. "Edina!
That? That was the wailing of my heart when I am away from you!" He moved toward her, arms outstretched.
Edina, a pretty girl
with light brown hair, swatted his hands away, giggling. Viktor flinched at the sound.
"Ivan, come help me,"
Edina said imploringly. "Josef's
Puffskein has made the water overflow again, and your Drying Charms are so much
better than mine." Viktor shook his
head. Poliakoff had thought it was
clever to teach his pet how to turn on the taps in the bathrooms with its
tongue. Unfortunately, he hadn't been
able to teach it to turn them off.
Pashnik turn to Viktor
with a wink. "I have work to do," he
said in a mock-solemn tone.
Viktor gladly closed
the door behind them. He sat down on
his bed, thinking about the news Pashnik had given him. A ball.
Now he would definitely have to speak to her. He couldn't imagine who else he would ask to be his partner. There were only three girls in the
Durmstrang party, and Edina was the only one he could stand. And she would certainly go to the ball with
Pashnik.
Enough, he thought, looking down at the golden egg he
was still holding. You will ask her
the next time you see her. Now stop
thinking about it. You have work to do.
But he couldn't help
glancing out through the porthole again, up toward the castle where he knew she
still sat, completely unaware of him.
