An International Crisis of International Proportions
AN: I'm so proud of myself I'm finally growing into my own person! I have finally found want to write my very own fanfiction (this is my first fanfiction). So to celebrate I fully welcome critics to help improve and expand in what little writing skills I have. And please tell me if I murder any accents, or if I repeat myself to many times. Perhaps I just added unneeded and random details? Right so, I have quite honestly been appalled at the lack of love for the pairing of Mr. Krum and Ms. Granger, and in retaliation to this horror I have felt the need to enlist in the fanfiction army to help show the world what a wonderful crack pairing this is. This idea has been rolling like thunder storm in my head for about a week actually and I just can't withstand that annoyingly loud voices that screams at me every waking anymore. I want to right a fanfiction damn it and I will! So… yeah… here's that idea I was talking about.
Disclaimar: I do not own anything 'cept my own OCs… did I do that right?
The Prologue That Wants to Know what's in Bulgaria?
Tapping my blood soaked fingers against the granite counter top, I waited impatiently while following the slow drip of the coffee before me with my eyes. I felt myself releasing a heavy sigh that highlighted that fact what my hooded eyes showed. 'It's three in the freakin' morning and they just had to come here of all places.' I raged silently in my head, hauling open the cabinet door above me and then yanking out a white coffee mug only to accidently slam it on the hand that was resting on the counter. "дерьмо*, voman! I get that your pissed but damn vould you vatch vhere you flinging coffee mugs? Huh?" Turning my head to look where the voice resounded from, I found myself staring at the familiar frosty blue eyes of my husband.
Glancing down towards my husband's hand that he was now cradling with his other hand, I looked back at his profile and took note of the dark rings underneath his eyes and how his face sagged giving him the look of someone who was in their fifties not forty five. "Sorry hun, I didn't realize yo' hand was there." Snickering at how the usually composed man was flustered without his beauty sleep.
Returning to what I was doing before, I picked up the coffee pot and watched as the waterfall of dark liquid fell into the mug. With the task complete I set the coffee pot back in place and turned around to lean on the counter like my husband. Letting my eyes wander as my mind fell into a mini-vegetation state I took in my well furnished kitchen. The counter that my husband and I were currently leaning on was polished granite that lined half of the rectangular room. In front of my husband and I was a doorway that lead to the currently occupied living room. When you entered the kitchen through the door way, on left side there was the refrigerator tucked in the corner and next to it was the dish washer. In the other corner was a stainless steel sink that sat in front of a large window that allowed you look out into the surrounding swamp lands. In between the granite lined walls was a island that had a stove and oven installed with a little counter space to put plates on.
In the other half of the room was a table that could sit six people, made of a dark would that went with the white marble on the floors and walls. In front of the table was a large window that took up the entire wall and had a window seat with plush black cushiness to sit on. With the curtains drawn back to let in the moonlight so that it could help the little counter light illuminate the room, I thought it created a rather eerie scene that fit the current mood that hung in the air.
I felt another sigh heave itself from my lips and to into the air when I felt the man standing next to me shift. Taking the mug from my bloodied hands and into his, I rewarded him with an annoyed glance. "Vhat it's not like your drinking it." He stated in a haughty tone before taking a sip of the scorching liquid. While I watched him (I silently willed the coffee to burn the annoying Russian's tongue) a thought accrued to me. "We ought ta check on our guest, non? And den get dere rooms set up." Even though I put it as suggestion my husband understood, that I ruled with iron fist when I was in the role of 'loving' and 'caring' hostess.
Marching into the living room, Nikolai silently treading behind, I took in the scene laid out in front of me. 'Dis place looks more like a 'ospital room or non, a funeral 'ome.' The latter description fit much better, as the heavy frowning faces of my guest turned to glare at those who had dared to interrupt they're silent praying. However seeing it was that it was their gracious host who had opened their door for the dying stranger at the doorstep of their home, they're faces softened back into the grave looking expressions that they wore before. Seeing my guest were seated and at least somewhat comfortable in their new surroundings I turned to look at my coffee table in the middle of the room. 'My beautiful coffee table…' The table stood low to the ground with a glass top that was framed with a dark kind of wood, was now caked from the blood of the man that I had helped saved; but what's worse was the expensive beige rug with purple swirls was soaked with the familiar crimson red. 'Dieu, no wonder dey look like dey just lost deir boy, it's amazin' if he survives from all dat blood lost.' Glancing at the parents of the large family within the living room, I turned my head to look at my husband. "Nikolai, why don't you show our guest to deir rooms?" Only catching part of the cooled glance he directed towards me I rushed up the stairs and then jogged to my intended destination. I slowed to halt to see the back of a man standing in the doorway of the room I had traveled to.
Sneaking up behind him I stopped a foot behind the man. "Well? How's he doin'?" Only slightly disappointed when I didn't see him startle, I waited patiently for his answer. "I don't knov. Ve vill just have to see vhen the morning comes." Without even sparing me a glance he continued, "It is her, I am vorried about though. She needs to sleep." I peaked around the German's shoulder to see who he had referred to. Upon seeing my niece's slouching form sitting next the bed, I shoved my way past the German muttering a 'Merci, Doc.' And hesitantly tip toped to my niece, so as not to wake the sleeping form laying on the bed. "Hey, cher, don't you dink it's time fo' you ta go ta bed?" The bushy head of hair turned to reveal the heart shaped face it had kept hidden from me. With a sad smile the girl replied "Hi Aunt Lulu. Yes I suppose I should…" noticing how the girl seemed to tense at thought of living herself appointed charge, I dropped to my hunches and went to place a hand on her small shoulder before remembering the blood that still clung to it. "Look Hermione, you not getting' any rest ain't gonna make 'im get any better. How 'bout dis, I set up a room right across from his so you can keep an eye on 'im?" Hermione seemed to contemplate this bargain for a moment before nodding her in agreement.
A satisfied smile graced my lips, turning to leave to set up her promised room I paused to look down at the strong looking man in the bed. "Vell all of our guest are in their rooms and sound asleep, for now." Brought out of my revive by the cold voice that flowed its way into the air of the room, I saw that Nikolai had returned and was now standing next to Braun. "Vell good for you Russian dog, I'm surprised you even know vhat guest means." Flinging his head to glare at Braun he bit back "Da? Vell at least I'm not a fascist pig." Sensing the argument that was about to break out between the German and Russian I interrupted before it could start. "NON, do. not. start. I will not have you two bitching at each other like a bunch of back stabbing pmsing group of teenage girls. I have neither the time nor patience to deal wit' dat right now. "
Pushing the two men out of my wake I stomped down the corridor to get the bedding for Hermione's room so I could get it ready and then try to get some more sleep before the peaked it's annoyingly cheery head out to piss me off even more. But as I listened to the arguing trailing behind me I had a feeling that wish would not come true. 'Why? Just why, couldn't my niece come to stay wit' me and Nikolai instead of going to stupid Bulgaria? I mean what's in Bulgaria anyway?'
* дерьмо- translation: shit
*Just for fun can y'all guess what kind of accent LuLu (Hermione's Aunt) has?