Whose Am I


Hermione stalked through a thick carpet of snow, head bowed against the wind as she skirted the lake's edge.

"Hermoninny," a distant voice rang out.

Her stomach dropped. She knew she was a conspicuous smudge of black in a sea of blinding white. There was nowhere to hide.

"Hermoninny, that is you?"

She turned to see Viktor shivering on the dock leading to the Durmstrang ship.

"Oh, hello," she called back in too high a voice.

"I have been hoping to be seeing you," he said jogging up to her. "It has been days and days, I vorry you had bad time at ball?"

"No, it was lovely!" She nodded. "I'm so sorry I - I've just been so busy with lessons and things."

In truth, she'd been avoiding Viktor for more than a week. The night had turned bitter after her row with Ron, leaving her confused about what exactly she even wanted with Viktor in the first place.

"Where is it you were going to?" he asked.

Hermione didn't have an answer. She'd entertained a vague notion of stopping in at Hagrid's for tea, but she hadn't owled first and he might not be in. Mostly, she just wanted out of the castle. Away from Ron, and his selfish anger, and Harry, who'd all but sided with him.

"Just, out for a walk," she said with a weak shrug.

"It is too cold for that now, come in." Viktor offered his arm. "Vee are playing games inside, and it is much varmer."

"No, I couldn't," Hermione shook her head. The prospect of mucking about aboard the Durmstrang ship struck her far too strange.

"Vy you can't?" Viktor's brows arched at the center and it sounded like a genuine question. "Vee come here to make friends, yes? Come see how the Durmstrang are."

The acidic words Ron had spat at her during at the ball floated to the surface of her mind. Fraternizing with the enemy.

"Alright," she smiled. "Yes, why not?" She could feel her already windblown cheeks flushing further.

"Here, I help," Viktor took her arm. "This dock is icy and you are not vanting to be falling in."

'Varm' might not have been the word Hermione would have used to describe the Durmstrang living quarters, but it was a far sight better than the frozen grounds. The dark, mottled wood sweat with humidity and the warren-like interior was gloomy and under-lit. She gripped the railing tight while descending the slick steps, feeling how the ship swayed with the rhythm of the wind. All around her the structure creaked and groaned, sometimes whistling where a breeze found a gap in the planks.

Viktor lead her to a narrow door and pushed it open.

"Hallo!" came a resounding chorus.

Almost a dozen students were huddled beside a magical fire. Sloping walls curved into a sharp point and she realized that they were in the bow. The space was decently large, and set up in the manner of a parlor or living room. All the furniture had been carved into the wood itself and every wall boasted a built-in shelf.

"Everyone, this is Hermoninny," Viktor said.

"Hermione," she inclined her head, accepting their hands in turn.

"Hermaynee - we met at ball, yes?" asked a girl with white blonde hair and nearly invisible brows. "I Sarka."

"Sarka, yes!" Hermione smiled. "So nice to see you again."

"And you were meeting Anders and Wiebke," Viktor said, pointing out his closest mates that he'd introduced the previous week.

"You take off coat," Wiebke said. "It is varm by the fire."

The Durmstrang students shifted to make room, leaving a narrow space on the built-in sofa. Hermione offered shy smiles as she unwound her scarf, settling down between the near-strangers. Rather than squeeze in beside her, Viktor sat down in the chair opposite but offered her a warm and companionable grin as he did. It was easier to talk when they could see each other, and Viktor was a gentleman. Not the sort to disguise a sly arm-around-the-shoulder with a yawn.

"So we play 'Hvem er Jeg,'" Anders explained as he dealt cards to the group. "Whose Am I."

"Oh I know this one!" Hermione clapped her hands together. "Who Am I! We put the card on our foreheads and the others all give clues as to who we are?"

"Ja, Ja," Sarka grinned. "Viktor does not lie, you are the smart witch."

"Hermione is the muggle born," Wiebke pointed out. "Perhaps we remove some cards to make more fair?"

"It is no problem," Viktor waved a hand. "Hermoninny is knowing more magic history than the purebloods. She will be doing better than any."

"Thank you, Viktor," she blushed.

Once the cards had been dealt everyone cast a mild sticking charm to the backs and slapped them on their foreheads. There followed a burst of laughter as they read each others' names.

"Okay, okay," Anders began. "Hven er jeg?"

Sake began laughing as she read his card: Ludovic Bagman.

"Oh no," she sqeualed, hiding her face. "Do not telling me more about the Quidditch!"

"Ja," Wiebke agreed. "We get it - you were important long time ago."

"Why don't you give Harry Potter more points?" Sake joked. "We know you loving him so much."

"Hey." Viktor furrowed his brows. "Harry was doing very vell in first task, and he is Hermoninny's friend."

The laughter died down and the others looked guilty.

"Am I the Dombluhdor?" Anders asked, his card rising with his brows.

At that, Hermione couldn't help but laugh. Her shoulders shook and she clutched her stomach. "Dumbledore never played Quidditch!"

"He did not?" Anders looked puzzled. "Even not when young? Okay, someone else go, I need to be thinking."

"Alright, vem ard aye?" Hermione asked, sitting up straighter.

"Nice pronunciation." Sake nudged her shoulder encouragingly. "Yours is hard one, though."

"You are like Merlin to the Persians," Sake offered.

"Oh!" Hermione jumped in her seat. "Omar Khayyam!"

The others roared with applause.

"How is this one so smart? Why did not we go to Hogwarts?" Anders demanded while clapping.

Hermione could only blush and offer a silly sort of curtsy. The game continued and she felt more comfortable by the minute. The Durmstrang students were a nice sort, she thought. Closer knit than their Hogwarts counterparts, and less competitive with one another. Perhaps it had something to do with spending months on end huddled together aboard the rickety ship. Then again, once she got used to it, their maritime home really wasn't so bad. It had a smell like sea and must, but it was almost nice in a way. The vaulting walls gave it a cozy, enclosed feeling, and the weathered wood had a romantic sort of appeal. Hermione was reminded of pirates and storybooks she'd read as a child.

They laughed and joked in the flickering light of the fire and Hermione appreciated the way Viktor stepped back and let her try getting on with the others on her own. They still locked eyes - constantly - as if they could speak to each other when they did. Hermione knew it was a cliche, but his eyes were the part she liked most about him. Viktor's broad posture and blunt features disguised it at first, but there was a softness to him. The way he spoke about the wilds of Norway betrayed a gentle kind of passion. He described jagged glaciers rising up into the sky and an endless black sea at night reflecting the stars. In his eyes, she saw a man who had known true beauty. And when he looked at her, that joyous fire flared again. It was a kind of flattery she'd never known before.

So she mingled and laughed with the others, but her gaze never strayed far from his. In those moments, something quiet yet understood passed between them. Something simple, yet big at the same time. I see you. I'm so glad to be seeing you.

It was nearly curfew by the time the party wound down.

"I walking you back, if you like?" Viktor asked as Hermione shrugged on her coat. She didn't need his escort, but she did want it, so she smiled and said yes.

Their talk was mild and delicate as they waded through the snow back to the castle. Hermione had never known a person she could speak with so lightly. Conversation came easy - it wasn't stressful or manic or intense. More like a soft song they sang, and they both knew the words. Somehow, the language barrier resulted in more laughing and joking than usual.

"I hope you were having fun tonight," Viktor said shyly as they reached the steps. "You were making the friends, I think."

"Yes, they were wonderful, Viktor!" Hermione said, throwing her arms around him in a breathless hug. "It was just so lovely. Thank you so much, really!"

"And maybe," he said, pulling back to look at her. "You are making more than friends?"

"Yes," she replied, gaze fixed on her boots. "I suspect we are."

A rich silence fell. Understanding that needed not be said radiating between them.

"Is this-" he asked, leaning forward. "Is this ok by you?"

"Yes," Hermione whispered, feeling her own face drawing nearer. "Yes I think so."

His fingers were icy against her cheeks. Her mittens were damp with snow behind his back. Cold hands buried into her hair; inside his coat. Only the looming threat of curfew could tease them apart.

Walking away - saying dithering goodbyes a thousand times and then a thousand times again - wasn't so bad. Her heart blazed as she entered the relatively sweltering castle. Her stomach leapt as she climbed the stairs to Gryffindor Tower. All the while, she carried with her the fresh, glowing memory of her first kiss. It played like a video on a loop. Like a song stuck in her head.

I've seen you. I'm so glad to have seen you.


Author's Note: I've never really written much romance-centric stuff so I'm very curious of what people think about this :)

Also, this story is sort of a companion piece to "A Nothingness, Doubled," which was the first time I ever tried writing Krum. I really, really like Krum now!