Prompts:
11. (poem) Afternoon on a Hill
13. (word) disaster
14. (word) swollen
Words: 2 733
Warnings: always a different gender (fem!Harry – Elizabeth)
Land of Roses
I will be the gladdest thing
Under the sun!
I will touch a hundred flowers
And not pick one
Bulgaria - the land of roses (or at least that's what the big poster on the wall in front of her claims with bright (almost obnoxiously so) red letters) – is not quite what Eliza has been expecting from Krum's letters (or even that poster with the rose valley and smiling girls). Maybe it is because she arrived at a city situated on the Black sea rather than one somewhere in the southern parts of the Balkan Mountains; or perhaps it is because she's never been anywhere but Britain her entire life and one's imagination rarely matches with the reality. Whatever the reason, however, the country she finds herself in is almost exotic, in the sense that is so different from her home.
The sun is shining brightly and the only reprieve she gets from the almost suffocating heat is from the light breeze that comes from the Black sea (and why do they call it 'black' again?). Krum (or should she call him 'Viktor' now that she is his guest in an unfamiliar country) is waiting for in front of the building of the International Portkey Agency's branch in Varna. He looks different from the last time they'd seen each other. Three years ago, on the charity ball the Ministry had thrown a month after the Battle of Hogwarts to gather funds for anew orphanage, Krum still had had the bird of prey look Eliza had noticed at the Quidditch Cup of 1994, grumpy expression and rather clumsy walk.
Now he looks decidedly better, probably because of a new stylist thinks Eliza. His dark hair is a bit longer and his eyebrows are not as thick as they used to, which somehow makes his face more handsome. His nose is as large and curved as ever but a more relaxed expression makes him seem more approachable. He is wearing casual clothes, a sleeveless beige tunic and light brown pants. When he sees her, he smiles brightly and in a few quick strides is next to her kissing her left hand with a bow.
"It is my pleasure and honor to welcome you to my country," he says and his English has gotten better it seems for she can hardly detect any accent at all.
"The pleasure is all mine," Eliza is quick to answer, trying to hide the blush she feels is spreading on her cheeks by turning around to look at the small patch of sea visible from between the tall buildings.
He chuckles quietly, quiet enough that she can pretend she misheard, and lets go of her hand to take the suitcase she's brought with her. "Shall go to the villa then, I am sure you must be tired, traveling with portkey often has that effect on me."
She nods, despite the fact that she feels quite fine, and takes his hand once more, so Viktor can apparite them to his summer house. The feeling of getting sucked through a very narrow tube decidedly does not get better overtime, but at least it's over quickly. Mere seconds later the two are far away from the city and as Eliza opens her eves she cannot help but gasp in astonishment.
They are standing on a huge balcony in a three store house right next to the sea. The azure sea with the water that shines so brightly because of the noon's sun. The sea she would have thought still were it not for the soft sounds made by the almost invisible waves. It seems that it does not have an end that goes on forever. It is as if she is standing near the edge of the world, where all that is left is the endless sea which calm is disturbed only by few brave people sailing with their yachts here and there. The breeze is stronger here and it waves her long black hair in every direction. There are seagulls flying in the sky as if chasing one another and others wobbling on the sandy beach.
"Do you like it?" she feels the hot breath of Viktor's mouth next to her ear and that almost makes her jump and turn around.
"It's breathtaking," Eliza answers honestly, her eyes never leaving the picture in front of her.
"You should wait until sunrise. There is nothing more beautiful than the sun rising as if from the sea. Well, almost," he corrects himself. "There is one thing I can think of that is more beautiful."
"What is it?" she asks and turns to face the Bulgarian. She hadn't realized they've been standing so close to one another. He is nearly an entire foot taller than her, her face is nearly buried in his broad muscular chest (and what kind of an observation is that?). His brown eyes are locked with her green ones and there is something in them, some emotion she cannot identify.
Usually she would step away, pretend this hasn't happened, but there is something about him that makes her stay. The same thing that made her write to him after that ball. The same thing that made her accept his offer to spend the summer in Bulgaria after she quitted the Auror training program. That thing she does not know what is it.
His hand brushes gently a stray lock of hair from her face and stays there, holding it with such care as if she would break under the slightest pressure. She should hate this and yet, and yet it feels good.
"I am looking at it right now," he answers and for her eternal shame Eliza blushes for the second time this day.
She steps back after that and watches as his hand falls back to his side after a few moments in the air.
"I wasn't aware I was a thing, Krum," she snaps at him instead of thinking about how good his hand felt, how nice it was to have someone look at her in such a way.
"Viktor, please," Krum, no Viktor, corrects her and takes a step towards her. "And I apologize for my words; I did not mean to offend."
He looks sincere and it really isn't Viktor's fault she cannot make heads or tail of her emotions concerning him. She does not apologize for her reaction, though; Potters do not make or admit to making mistakes, let alone apologize.
"Where will I be staying?" she asks instead. There is a flicker of amusement in his brown eyes at her words, but she decides to ignore it.
"Your room is just over there," he says and leads her to the glass doors of the balcony. Behind them, there is a spacious room with a very big bed in the middle, an even bigger wardrobe, a vanity, two armchairs and a small table between them. The colors are mostly beige and light green and judging by the lack of decoration and any personal items this is the guest room she will be staying.
"The bathroom is through the door on the left," Viktor says and thankfully he is not as close as he was before. "The entire floor is yours, the door to the right leads to the stairs. My room is on the second floor. There is a bathroom there as well, a study room and a small living room. You are, of course, welcome to visit all of them," does he mean his bedroom as well, Eliza cannot help but wonder. She has known that Viktor is rather forward from the letters they'd exchanged through the last three years, but he had never indicated such an interest in her.
After she had quitted the Auror program, mostly because she had lost any and all desire to fight since the war ended and had finally gotten around to saying it to everyone in Britain. The backlash had been terrible, the newspapers kept on publishing articles about her 'sudden and inexplicable' desire to disappoint all of them and so on and so forth. As if she owned them her life! She gave it up once before, she will not do so again!
Eliza had briefly mentioned it to Viktor and his next letter had arrived with an invitation to spend some time on the Bulgarian seaside.
"… and the dining room," he has kept on talking the entire time she was lost in thought, but she was sure she will be able to navigate the first floor. "I shall take my leave now, he says formally. "It is nearly three o'clock now, perhaps you will be willing to have a walk with me around six? The city really comes alive in the later hours of the day and I assure you, the heat is much more bearable," he is smiling and she really cannot say no to his offer, so she nods in acceptance. His smile grows wider and he kisses her hand before leaving the room.
Perhaps he wants something, they all do, Eliza muses as she fixes her hair few hours later. But this is the first real holiday she's had in years and the first time she's been allowed to simply breathe and be whoever she wants to be without any expectations from an entire country. A summer romance does not sound so bad, if that is what he wants, for as long as it does not turn into a complete disaster that is.
I will look at cliffs and clouds
With quiet eyes,
Watch the wind bow down the grass,
And the grass rise.
A month later, Eliza is laying on the beach with some sweet cold drink in one arm and a book in the other. The chaise-longue is not the most comfortable thing in the world, but she is right next to the sea and if she wishes to cool from the sun she only needs to take a couple of steps.
As it is, she has more interesting things to do than get salt all over her body and hair. Namely, watching Viktor, clad only in swimming briefs, dive in and swim. Of course, him getting out of the water, all wet, is a particular favorite of hers.
Surprisingly little has happened between them in past four weeks. He has been his courteous self the entire time, taking her out to see everything his home country has to offer, treating her to dinner and lunch practically every day and complimenting her several times a day. But not a single kiss not on the knuckles of her left hand or a hand somewhere it could be considered improper. The entire situation is frustrating, to say the least.
Hermione, when she had told her of the situation, has been decidedly unhelpful.
Just do what you feel is right.
The two of you have been dancing around for the past three years.
Would he have invited you if he wasn't into you?
Elizabeth closes the book she isn't really reading with a huff. Well, she might as well do something about it. Potters do not beg, Potters are proud and strong and people and mountains come to them, not the other way around (according to Sirius' lessons in fifth year). A Potter woman should not have to wait for a man to come to her, if he is too late he is not worth it. There are, however, exceptions to every rule and besides 'what a Black wants, a Black gets' and she as much a Potter as she is a Black.
Eliza takes off her sunglasses and puts them over the book (which name she isn't sure she ever knew). She takes the last few steps to the water (and it is cold, cold, cold) and soon the water reaches he shoulders and both parts of her red swimming suit are uncomfortably wet but the feeling passes quickly. At least she had the good sense to tie her hair in a bun and hopefully it will not get wet.
All too soon Viktor is standing right next to her with that smile of his that has been making her knees weak for the past few days.
"I see you finally decided to join me," he says.
"I drew tired of waiting," she replays summoning all Gryffindor bravery she could.
"Waiting for what?" he crocks an eyebrow. Eliza takes a deep breath and makes a step in his direction. There are rocks under the water and she steps on one of them, so she is a little bit taller. Then she kisses him.
Viktor is shocked and at first does not respond. As she is about to draw back and apologize for reading the signs wrong, his hands are on her waist and he is kissing her back. He nips her lower lip and she opens her mouth a bit and…
… and the rock she is standing on is slippery and she loses balance and falls back. Her right foot somehow is hocked between his feet and he falls after her. And it hurts, hurts, hurts, her ankle feels like it's on fire and she can't breathe under the water and Viktor's body is too heavy for her to move even in the sea. And she is going to die in the most humiliating way possible, what was she thinking…
… then he is up again and is pulling her from the water and that bastard is laughing while she coughs out the bitter water.
"You want to get out of here?" he asks her in between fits of laughter. Eliza nods, still coughing and suddenly one of his hands is around her waist and the other under her knees. She loops her hands around his neck and places small kisses on his jaw because now that she kissed him once she has to do it again and again and still can't get enough.
They are on the beach now and he gently lays her down on her chaise-longue. She grabs his shoulders and pulls him towards her and he is kissing her again and it feels so good. He is all over her, one hand at the back of her neck the other on her left thigh and he is a really good kisser and all that matters now is his warm body on hers, his lips on hers and the gentle way he cradles her neck that makes her feel safer than she's been in some time.
Suddenly his left foot brushes over her right ankle and she nearly lets out a scream because it hurts. Viktor stands still for a moment and then he is no longer there kissing her, but is kneeling at the sand (and there is no way that is comfortable) and examining her ankle. It doesn't look that bad, maybe a little swollen, but even the gentles brush of his fingers makes her wince.
"I think it's sprained," he says at last and Eliza wants to roll her eyes because she could have told him that, but somehow she refrains from commenting.
"Typical," she says instead, "I kiss you, you sprain my ankle."
"I'll have you know that I am innocent in all of this. You are the one who managed to fall in the water and drag me down," his voice is so matter-of-fact that she has to stifle a giggle. Eliza crosses her arms and pouts instead.
"If you hadn't made we wait so much this wouldn't have happened," she answers petulantly. He laughs, kisses her pout away and stands up.
"Shall I take you to the house, my lady? I can fix you ankle in a second and we can carry on from where we left off," he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and this time she is unable to prevent giggles from escaping her mouth.
"After we get cleaned up from the sand and salt."
"My bath tub is large enough for both of us."
"You are incorrigible!"
"Is that a no?"
"… I didn't say that."
As Viktor makes his way to the house whit her in his arms, Eliza can't help but thank whatever force made her agree to take him on his offer and come to Bulgaria.
And when lights begin to show
Up from the town,
I will mark which must be mine,
And then start down!