Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything to do with it and I make no money from this story.

This is the first proper chapter of Dwindling Fires and Roaring Flames. This is only my second fanfiction that I have actually written so I would appreciate it if you would review and if you did not like it, please tell me why so that I can make it better. Enjoy!

The brilliant Bulgarian sun shone down, reflecting off of a huge lake back into the cloudless blue sky. A soft breeze blew, which was a change from the normally gusty winds of the region. Mountains defined the landscape, shaping a little valley in the centre, where a group of people sat.

They were sat on white garden chairs, facing a white wedding arch with roses entwined around the latices. Underneath the arch, Viktor Krum stood with a smile on his usually sullen face. His bushy eyebrows were raised in genuine delight as the wedding march began to play and everyone turned to look as the young, 21-year-old bride came gracefully down the aisle. Her hair was brown, curly round her shoulders, her dress a spray of creamy silk. She looked as happy as it is possible for anyone to ever be.

She reached the altar and turned to face her soon-to-be husband. He gazed at her in admiration as the priest – a small, white-haired man with spectacles and a thick Bulgarian accent – began to speak.

"Ve are gazzered here today to celebrate the joining of a couple that loff eachuzzer very much. Viktor Krum and Hermione Granger met many years ago, but now zey haff finally decided that their relationship means something more to them. They vill care for eachuzzer alvays, votever the problem, they vill help eachuzzer to solve it," he began, reciting the Bulgarian version of the marriage speech. "And ven vun of them is sick, the uzzer vill heal, ven vun is sad, the uzzer vill comfort." He paused, his spectacles bobbing up and down on his face, and then continued, "Now ve vill haff the exchanging of the rings." He produced a cushion from the air, on which sat two white-gold bands, one plain, the other encrusted with diamonds.

"Now vud you each take your partner's ring and place it on their ring finger," the priest said. The couple did so, the diamond one fitting as snugly as a glove on Hermione's finger, and he continued. "Now – do you, Viktor Krum, take Hermione Jean Granger to be your vife?" he asked. Krum nodded, a proud look in his eyes. "I do," he said in a low voice which you could tell was filled with emotion.

"And do you, Hermione Jean Granger, take Viktor Krum to be your husband?" he asked. Hermione, who looked very tearful indeed, nodded. "I do," she whispered.

"Then I now declare you to be husband and vife!" the priest shouted. He waved his wand and a shower of sparks burst from the tip. They swirled around the couple, who gazed into eachother's eyes. "You may now kiss the bride."

Krum lifted his bride's veil and pressed his lips gently to hers, as he had done so many times before – but this time it was time they were married, finally together. They had waited so long for this moment, ever since Hermione had been a girl of fourteen and Krum a strapping young man, four years older. He had known it was only ever going to be her since that day he had first noticed her in the library. And now he was living his dream.

Hermione felt the exact same way as the kiss broke and everyone sitting there clapped, cheered and wolf-whistled. She loved Krum – had not always loved him, but there was no mistaking that feeling in the pit of her stomach whenever she looked at him now. She had tried to be romantic with others, but her mind always came back to him.

She looked away from him into the crowd, where her parents stood clapping. Her mother looked teary-eyed, her father slightly confused, as if he couldn't work out where his daughter had gone. She smiled encouragingly at him.

Krum suddenly touched her shoulder. "Ve are leaving now," he said. She grinned. This was her favourite part of the whole thing. It felt exciting and real, and it felt like Krum was looking after her the entire time, so there was no way for her to be scared.

They made their way over to where a broomstick – Krum's latest model – sat on the ground. Krum sat astride it and pulled Hermione up to sit behind him. She arranged her dress accordingly, and before you knew it they were off, whizzing into the great blue sky and into their life together.

Hermione remembered that day seven years ago as she woke. Her eyes opened to see Krum lying practically comatose beside her, his eyebrows furrowed as he dreamed. She smiled, four parts love, one part exasperation, as she pushed back the silky bedcovers and put her bare feet to the floor. Shoving them into slippers and shrugging on her furry dressing gown, she quietly tiptoed round to the other side of the bed.

"Viktor… Viktor, honey… it's time to get up, sweetheart," she crooned.

Krum shifted, stirred, and grumbled as his eyes opened to gaze blearily at her. "Vot time is it?" he muttered, stretching.

Hermione laughed. "It's seven o' clock, darling. You'll have to get up soon or you'll be late for training!" Krum was due to start his Quidditch Eurocup Tour in two months; he would fly to Norway with the rest of the team, where the first of the games would be played. He was trying to get in as much training as he could before the tour, but his hatred for anything that involved getting up early complicated things a bit.

Now he groaned and hitched himself up on one elbow. "Good morning, my loff," he whispered tiredly, leaning forward to kiss her. His accent had improved because of all their time spent in England nowadays, but it still had more than a hint of Bulgarian to it.

Hermione returned the kiss. "I'm just going downstairs – the kids will be up by now," she said casually.

Krum nodded. "I'll be downstairs in vun minute," he replied, before rolling over and closing his eyes again. Hermione laughed. "Viktor!" she squealed, pushing him out of bed. Krum laughed too, picking himself up off the floor. "I swear, I vill be downstairs soon," he said. His wife nodded. "See you down there," she trilled, before hurrying out of the door.

Their house was a large affair built just outside London. With Krum being an international Quidditch player, they had had more than enough money to buy a house after they got married. This one was new but built to look old – it had red brick walls with moss growing in between the cracks, and a gravel path round front with a fountain bubbling merrily away to itself. The house had three floors, plus a basement. When Hermione and Krum had bought it, they had known that children were high on their list of priorities – especially Krum's. So buying a house with plenty of space for kids was a must-do.

They had produced three children out of their seven years of marriage – two sons and a daughter. Their first child had been Andrei, a cheeky five-year-old with Hermione's brown curly hair and Krum's aptitude and passion for flying. He was Krum's favourite of the brood, although this was never mentioned.

The second boy was Stefan – he was quiet and shy, and quite a clever boy who obviously had Hermione's brains. He had been born with no vocal cords, and it had taken St. Mungo's a while to put it right. Although by the time he was ten months old he was completely back to normal again, he had never really liked talking, and although he was able to say a lot more than the average three-year-old, it was rarely heard. Hermione didn't like to admit it, but he was her favourite.

Ten-month-old Katerina made lots of noise. She was still learning how to talk, but had already mastered the art of screaming until the point of turning purple. She was very much like her father; she had a fuzzy crop of dark hair and dark eyes that looked like black holes in her round, pale face. Her mouth often opened wide to match.

As Hermione came down the stairs now, she heard her daughter yelling from the nursery across the hall. She was about to go and investigate when a maid brushed past her with a, "Good morning!" before hurrying into the nursery. Hermione followed. She didn't like being waited on hand and foot all the time, although it made a change from having to do everything yourself, as it had been at her parent's small house in Essex. But sometimes she would have liked to change her own daughter's nappy.

Entering the nursery, she saw the maid cradling a wailing Katerina in her arms. Hermione put her arms out. "Here, I'll take her," she said softly. The maid looked surprised, although Hermione often tried to reason with the maids. "But… but Mrs Krum," she began, before Hermione cut her off. "Don't worry. She's my daughter; I can do things for her once in a while."

She reached out and plucked the baby from the woman's arms. The maid looked even more surprised, but walked quickly out of the nursery. Hermione walked out too, holding Katerina tightly, going down the stairs to the ground floor of the house, from where she could hear shouts from Andrei and many sounds of forks and plates scraping together. A maid walked across her line of vision as the shouts got louder and louder.

"Hey! That's my toast!" shouted Andrei's shrill voice.

"No, it's not," muttered Stefan's calm one. Hermione laughed inwardly at his tone.

Andrei yelled, "Give my orange juice back!" so loudly that Katerina's grizzling suddenly became loud sobs once more. Hermione sighed.

"Andrei!" she called. "Don't shout so loudly, you'll make your sister upset." She appeared as if by magic round the corner of the kitchen, where she saw Andrei and his brother sitting at the large table, eating toast and boiled eggs and making a mess in the process.

Andrei cried, "Mummy!" at the sight of her and ran to hug her, holding out hands sticky with butter and egg yolk. Hermione backed away.

"Morning boys!" she said brightly, keeping a close eye on her son's sticky appendages. "I'll hug you when I put Katerina down, and you wash your hands, okay? Then maybe after you finish your breakfast we can play a game before school starts!" Both Andrei and Stefan had private tutors who lived in the house with them – they had never been to normal school for Krum feared that they would be endangered if they did. Hermione had tried to reason with him, but he wouldn't budge. Stefan and Andrei had school from eight o'clock until half past two every weekday, much to their disappointment.

Both the boys perked up with the mention of a game, and went back to the breakfast table to finish their toast. Hermione put Katerina in her baby seat and went to fetch her bottle, chatting as she did so.

"So, boys – excited for the trip to Bulgaria next week?" she asked brightly.

Ever since Andrei had been born, Krum had been adamant that his children would not simply sit in England all year long. Instead, for half of the year the entire family returned to Bulgaria to live in their home in a small wizarding community of Sofia, the capital of Bulgaria. Every one of the children had been born there. Krum's mother and father, Mariya Krum and Viktor Krum Senior, also lived there, and had been there for every birth to see their grandchildren. They lived near to the family's Bulgarian home, and whenever the family moved back there for half of the year, Mariya Krum would always welcome them home with gusto.

The family had only come back to England two months ago, but since Krum was going to be competing in the Quidditch Eurocup this year, the family was going to visit the Bulgarian side of the family for a week before he had to leave. Mariya Krum had been insistant that they come – after all, she 'might not get to see Viktor again after that competition!', as she put it. Always worrying, that was Mariya.

Andrei answered, "No – Nana Krum will give me lipstick kisses again!" He pouted and crossed his arms, obviously not pleased with the idea at all.

"But darling, you'll get to see Grandpa Krum and he'll go flying with you again," soothed Hermione. Krum's father, Viktor Krum Senior, was as passionate about flying as his son and grandson, but his passion was a different type to his son's. He found Quidditch to be an amusing game as well as a serious sport, and although he had played the game competetively back in the sixties and seventies, he enjoyed playing innocently with Andrei on a toy broom in the garden too. Viktor Krum Junior did not.

Considering Hermione's words, Andrei took a bite of toast. "I suppose," he said finally, in a reluctant tone. His mother laughed, her shimmering brown hair wafting around her shoulders. Now that she was famous, she had access to the toughest of haircare spells, and easily turned it from flyaway and bushy to shimmering and silky with one flick of her wand.

Stefan spoke quietly, "I like Auntie Ivana. She teaches me."

Indeed, Mariya's sister Ivana had taken a shine to Stefan the moment she had seen his small form swaddled in blankets. From then on the two of them had had a special bond. She taught him things that even Hermione didn't know – things about Bulgaria, about its secret history and culture. Stefan loved her. To him, she was a fountain of knowledge, of things he could collect and store inside his head until that special day when he could use them.

It was Ivana who had taught both boys to speak fluent Bulgarian by the time they were two. Though neither of them spoke with an accent, they could jabber away as well as native Bulgarians. It was the only language in which Stefan would say more than two words in. Hermione laughed.

"Of course, Cousin Ivana will teach you,"she said calmly. Her son smiled broadly.

Andrei piped up, "Grandpa Krum said next time I see him, he'll teach me how to do a Wronski Feint!" His little face was red and shiny with excitement. His mother tutted. "Just be careful dear – anything could happen." She turned to Katherine, who was sucking a fist like a lollipop and making murmuring sounds as she did so. Hermione unplugged the hand from the baby's mouth and stuck the bottle in.

"Go on, boys – get ready for school," she called. The two youngsters rushed off, Andrei complaining noisily, Stefan quiet and calm. Hermione gazed after them, so happy simply to be their mother and Krum's wife.

Krum got home late that evening. Hermione had put all three children to bed, and was waiting in the large living room for him. When she saw him come through the doorway, her heart leapt, as it always did when his face entered her line of vision. He was clad in Quidditch robes, a shiny red with green and white trim. His face was shiny and red too. Upon catching sight of his wife, he smiled.

"Herm-own-ninny!" he teased, using the name he had formerly addressed her by back when they were teenagers.

He came forward and kissed her softly on the lips, putting his arms around her neck. Hermione thought she caught a whiff of alcohol, but decided that she must be imagining things. "How was everything today, then?" Krum asked. Hermione considered this.

"Fine. The boys behaved themselves for once, and Katerina said another half-word." Her husband's grin widened. "Oh, really? Well, my day vos fine too. But actually, I felt lonely. I missed you. I vos longing for the time ven I could go home and see you vunce more." He caressed her cheek with one hand. Hermione smiled too. "I missed you too. But at least you're home now. Maybe we can take this upstairs?" she ended suggestively. Krum laughed.

"Brilliant idea, my darling."

He hoisted her over his shoulder, much to her delight, and carried her up the stairs. They were almost at the top of the second flight when a high voice called, "Daddy!" Andrei had woken up and come running out of his room towards them. Krum quickly returned Hermione to the floor.

"Hello, my little flier!" he said to Andrei, who beamed with pride. "I waited and waited for you to come home," he announced proudly. His father smiled fondly. "Well, now it's time to go to bed," he said, scooping Andrei up. "I'll come and tuck you in." The pair went into Andrei's room, and Hermione could hear muttering coming from inside. Within a few minutes, Krum was out again, motioning that Andrei was sound asleep.

"Now – where were we?" he grinned, in a mocking English accent. Hermione giggled like the fourteen-year-old she had been when they'd first met. She reached out a hand to Krum. He might have his flaws, she thought. He might come home late sometimes, or forget to call when he's out. But I love him.

Krum took her hand, and they ran up to their bedroom, shutting the door behind them.

"Now, childrens, vot vud you like to do vile you are staying vith us?"

Mariya Krum sat on an old wooden chair in the huge stone kitchen. Her grandchildren were sitting opposite her at the table. Stefan sat on Ivana's lap. Andrei, who sat next to them, declared, "I want to go flying with Grandpa!"

Mariya scowled. "Oh, that flying business is just too much for me to handle! You get it from your father, I know, and he gets it from his father too." She paused. "But I suppose you are allowed if the older vuns vatch you carefully." She turned to Stefan and Ivana. "And you, Stefan? Vot vud you like to do?" Stefan looked up at his great-aunt. Ivana was a relatively old woman, about seventy years old – at least ten years older than Mariya. Her hair was long, silky and pure white, and there were so many wrinkles on her face that you couldn't count them. Now they stretched out as she smiled down at Stefan.

"Stefan has already said that he wants to study with me while he is here," she said softly, in a flawless accent. Ivana always spoke quietly, with few mistakes. She had lived in England, working as a Bulgarian translator for Gringotts, for more than five years before returning to Bulgaria, and could switch from an English accent to a Bulgarian one in a fraction of a second. She smiled down at her little great-nephew.

"He is a little learner, is my Stefan," she said fondly.

Mariya smiled too, but tightly. She didn't like it that Stefan adored her sister far more than he did her. She busied herself by getting up and plucking Katerina from her carrycot.

"Hello, my young vun," she cooed, her greying hair tickling the baby's face.

Katerina gurgled back, making Mariya smile genuinely. She had to admit that out of all of the children, Katerina was her child of choice. The youngest, the smallest, and most definitely the noisiest, Mariya saw something of herself in the baby. Mariya had two sisters – Ivana and Raina. Raina was the eldest, at over eighty years of age, but had disappeared when Voldemort had returned to power. Mariya preferred not to think about her anymore.

Now, she straightened up and made her way back to the table, just as her son and daughter-in-law entered the room.

"Hello!" Hermione cried cheerfully, kneeling down to let the boys rush into her open arms. After their good-morning hug, she stood up and brushed herself morning she was wearing a white summer dress that hugged her curves and showed off her tanned, glowing skin. She smiled with white teeth at Krum, who stood next to her. He was clad in shorts and T-shirt – the perfect Bulgariam summer outfit. Behind him stood his father, Viktor Krum Sr. He was a tall, balding, grey-haired man with a snowy moustache and a pot belly. He nodded to Ivana, and hugged his wife, being careful not to squash Katerina, who was still clutched in Mariya's arms.

Andrei got up from the table. "Grandpa Krum?" he asked hesitantly.

The old man smiled. "Yes, Andrei?" he said. His grandson looked up at him. "Can you teach me how to do a Wronski Feint like Daddy does today?" he mumbled, looking embarassed. Krum Sr laughed a deep belly laugh.

"Of course I vill teach you, Andrei! Ve vill go out and start practising after breakfast." He sat down at the table, gesturing for Andrei to come and sit next to him. "Did you know, ven I vos in the Bulgarian team, I did a Wronski Feint every day in my training! Vunce, in a match, I performed the move at least three times!"

Viktor Krum Sr had been an excellent Quidditch player in his day. He had led the Bulgarian team to victory on more than one occasion – when he was the team's Seeker, they had won two Quidditch Eurocups and had come second in the World Cup. Now that he was old, he missed the excitement of his old lifestyle, and often couldn't help but reminisce whenever any Quidditch reference entered the conversation.

Andrei eagerly listened. His face was flushed with excitement as he leaned further and further in his seat, trying to catch every word his grandfather said.

Hermione noticed this, and smiled towards her son. She too sat down at the table.

"So, today, Viktor and I are going to go and walk around town, to see everything before the Eurocup starts," she declared. This was met with general approval. Mariya was quick to warn them about the dangers of the city, to watch out for swindlers and to make sure they were back by 2 o' clock. Hermione nodded.

"Of course we will," she agreed.

So after breakfast, she and Krum set out to the city. They strolled –apparation seemed far too lazy, especially with the sun shining down so invitingly – to one of the many parks that Sofia had to offer. It was large, with a duckpond in the centre. Willow and beech trees lined it, some of the willow tendrils skimming the top of the glassy surface and triggering ripples, which spread out across the pond. Hermione sighed and let the cool breeze blow her hair back from her face.

"It's really lovely to be here, isn't it?" she asked dreamily.

Her husband did not answer. Hermione looked up at his face and saw that he wasn't really concentrating on her at all. He was staring at something very intently. She followed his gaze to where a pretty Muggle girl walked just ahead of them. She had shimmering blonde hair, and was wearing a tight top and an incredibly short skirt. Hermione scowled – although out of jealously or plain disapproval, she could not say.

"Viktor, stop gawking at her!" she hissed through her teeth. She could feel her cheeks flushing red. Catching hold of Krum's arm, she swung him to face her as they walked along. "Viktor!" she said again.

Her husband looked confused, and at the same time, annoyed. "Vot?" he asked, as if he had just come out of a trance.

Hermione sighed. "Never mind," she muttered. She walked a little faster, so that Krum had to run to catch up. Soon they had passed the Muggle girl. Krum had done things like this more than once already. A lot more than once. But Hermione wasn't going to let it ruin her holiday for her. She put the incident to the back of her mind, and stopped, turning to her husband. "Let's go and see if there are any good shops near here. We can buy some souvenirs and things for you to take with you to the Eurocup, and some presents for the boys." Krum nodded. "Good idea, my loff," he said, looking slightly relieved at the change of topic.

They headed down onto a high street, and before long had found any number of gift shops and department stores from which to choose. They soon found some presents for their sons, for Katerina, and for Hermione's mother and father. They bought matching photo frames for themselves, and then got into a small portable Muggle photo booth.

They made stupid faces in the first, smiled in the second, laughed in the third and kissed in the fourth. Hermione made a mental note to drop it off at a shop she knew in Diagon Alley where the photos could be charmed to move.

Then she checked her watch. "Oh, Viktor, it's nearly two. We should get going."

They gathered their bags and snuck into an alleyway, where they apparated back to Mariya's house. But all the while, the thought of what had happened in the park lingered on Hermione's mind. She brushed it away. There was no harm in what Krum had done… was there?

The week passed in a blur of hot Bulgarian sunshine that seemed to seep into everything it touched. Soon the family found themselves back at home, surrounded by cases and boxes and bags – all the things that you are left with after you return from a holiday.

And while Krum was to return to his Quidditch training, Hermione was going to have a busy month. Not only did she have to attend a red carpet event next week, but she had also promised her parents a visit. Not that she did not like visiting her parents or anything – but there was something about them, something she couldn't quite place, that was different or strange about them.

It was that blasted memory charm that had done it.

Back when she was seventeen, eleven years ago, Hermione had modified her parents' memories and made them move to Australia to escape from Voldemort.

When she had lifted the Memory Charm, they had seemed fine. But as Hermione got older, she realised that there was something different about them – the way her mother got that lost expression in her eyes, or the way her dad spoke with less vigour than he used to. And there was something strange about the way they both took such an interest in Hermione's life these days.

Sometimes – in moments of built-up annoyance that she always regretted afterwards – she wished that she had just left them as Wendell and Monica Wilkins, who lived in Australia.

Remembering this led Hermione's train of thought to reason it had ever happened in the first place – Voldemort's rise to power once again. When she and Harry Potter and Ron –. No. She didn't like to think about him. Not since that day, ten years ago.

But no. That was ancient history now. Hermione decided to think about the future – and, more specifically, what she would wear to the event next week. It was a launch for a new high-fashion shop, where Hermione's own brand of clothing – Babes with Brains – would be sold. Hermione hadn't quite got used to the fact that she had her own clothing brand yet. It was rather new, and she hadn't had a lot to do with it.

She had spent most of the meetings concerning it with a book under the table, to be honest.

"Hermione, Hermione, over here!" shouted a tinny, speaker-distorted voice. On the television, Hermione, wearing a long, fringy red dress and clutching a white purse, looked in the direction the voice had come from through large, kohl-rimmed eyes.

The real Hermione sighed, feeling half exasperated, half loving. Her mother loved watching her on the telly.

She had arrived at her parents' house with Andrei and Stefan in towe, a grizzling Katerina in her arms. Stefan and Andrei had headed straight for the toybox in the corner of the room. Her mother had immediately swooped down from nowhere and plucked the infant from her daughter, plopping her down into a highchair and sitting down herself, gesturing for Hermione to do the same.

It was when she sat down that she had noticed that her mother was watching a news report of the red carpet event on a wizarding channel.

Her mother, though a Muggle, did try very hard to be part of Hermione's life, which Hermione appreciated, but a lot of the time she missed her old parents. They had been very proud of her and her accomplishments, yes, but also slightly bemused about what went on in her life. They had never pried or tried to act as if they knew what they were talking about when it came to the wizaring world.

"So, Mum," she said now, over the noise of herself answering the questions of a particularly loud reporter, "how's everything going?" Mrs Granger smiled. "Fine, sweetie, just fine. Your father and I have been careful to watch the wizarding telly whenever you're on it." She gestured to the television with one pale hand. "But anyway, how are you, darling? It seems like we hardly ever speak to you anymore!" She spoke slowly and carefully, as if choosing her words perfectly before she allowed them to come out.

Hermione smiled. "I'm quite well, actually," she said. "As you can probably tell, the kids are too," she laughed, gesturing to where Andrei and Stefan were playing, Andrei loud and excited, Stefan quiet and calm.

Her mother laughed.

"I love it when you bring them here," she chuckled. She gazed over at the small figures in the corner, and as she looked, Hermione noticed some of the old spark return to her eyes. But it had gone soon after it had arrived.

They sat and talked for a while. Her mother plied her with questions about everything and anything – about Krum, the children, the Eurocup. Mr Granger arrived and sat down for a few minutes, before he gave in to his grandchildren and went and joined in with their game in the corner. He was a tall man, with very little hair that had still retained its colour – the same colour as Hermione's.

Eventually, Hermione had to say that she had to go. She kissed her mother on the cheek, hugged her father, and gathered her children. As she walked out the door, she felt a pang of guilt for leaving, but quickly brushed it away.

The last few days and weeks trickled away until it was the day that Krum was scheduled to leave. As his family were only coming for several of the games, and not staying in Norway, he would leave by himself. His family gathered in front garden to say goodbye, as the family butler, Hubert, brought out Krum's bags and broomstick and set them on the path. Krum followed him.

"Vell, I am sad that you all vill not be joining me in Norvay," he addressed his family. "But you can all come and vatch my games. I vill miss you all ven I am in Norvay by myself."

He leaned down to hug Andrei.

"Be good for Mummy, my little flier," he whispered in his son's ear. Andrei nodded vigorously. "Yes, Daddy!" he said adamantly, still nodding. Krum smiled, and went to hug is younger son.

"Now, you behave too," he said to Stefan. "I vant to hear all about how good you haff been ven I see you again."

Then Krum took Katerina from Hermione's arms. He hugged her, kissed the top of her downy head, and then gave her gently back to Hermione. He looked down at his wife. He was about to say something when suddenly, a man appeared next to them. He was small, middle-aged, with a rather badly disguised toupee. Turning to face Krum, he cried, "Ah, Viktor, old buddy. We have to go! The rest of the team is already in Norway, and we have a press conference in an hour and a half."

Hermione scowled. It was Krum's manager, Barney Bragg. He was American, and was manager to many famous witches and wizards there, such as Celestina Warbeck. But he was also very pushy, and controlled Krum's almost every move.

Now Krum sighed. "Vell, I suppose I haff to go," he said. He bent and kissed Hermione on the lips, hugged her quickly, then gathered his bags and went to join Mr Bragg.

"Goodbye, everyvun!" he called. Then he was gone, disapparated. Hermione sighed.

"Come on in, kids," she called. "You have some homework to be getting on with, as I recall!" E

Cheering spectators filled the stands of a crowded Quidditch stadium, as players in red robes came zoomed through the air. On the opposing side, players clad in black, red and gold robes were being cheered on. It was the Bulgaria vs Germany match.

Hermione, Stefan and Andrei (Katerina was at home) were sat in the top box, next to several other relatives of the players. The top box was large, with waist-high glass walls, and then an open top that could close if the weather got bad. But currently the sun was shining brightly, and only a few puffy white clouds dotted the blue sky around them.

"Ooh! I can see Daddy, I can see Daddy!" Andrei squealed excitedly. He pointed through the glass to where a figure was darting in and out of sight.

Suddenly there was a roar from the crowd, and a booming voice cried, "And Schmidt scores! Fifty points to Germany! Now, that was a good shot!" Spectators screamed, some in anger and some in joy. Hermione did not scream – she wasn't really one for screaming anymore – hadn't been since her late teens. She simply clapped politely and plastered a sympathetic grimace on her face.

They watched in silence for a while as the Quaffle was passed around the pitch – caught, passed, stolen, dropped, and caught again. Then suddenly another huge wave of noise erupted from the stands.

"Hausmann misses! Levski scores! That's fifty points to Bulgaria!" shouted the commentator. "And the teams are tied – but wait! It looks like Krum has seen the Snitch!"

Hermione immediately scanned the pitch for a glimpse of her husband. Her gaze fell on him – he was diving to the ground! The German seeker followed him, diving down too. But even as Hermione watched, Krum pulled away at the last second, leaving the German seeker to crash into the ground. Luckily, he had managed to slow down, and only fell lightly. All the same, the crowd went wild.

"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is a Wronski Feint! Krum has been using that move since he was eighteen, and it looks like it hasn't let him down yet!" roared the voice.

"Go Daddy! Go Daddy!" yelled Andrei. Even Stefan, in a moment of excitement, shouted, "Woohoo! Go Daddy!"

A small voice with a heavy German accent piped up from further along the wall, "My papa ist better than your papa! Er wird winnen!" A chubby, blonde boy of about six stood glaring at Andrei and Stefan, a large German sasuage being gripped tightly in his fist. He was wearing tight leather trousers that were of a horrible greenish-brown colour, and held up by braces. Andrei frowned.

"My daddy's just as good as your daddy," he pouted. Then he noticed what the boy was wearing. "Why have your trousers been glued on?" His forehead wrinkled in concentration as he tried to work out the strange garment.

The boy pouted too. "They are not glued on, they are lederhosen! They komme aus Germany, my country. Where my papa is from. He is going to win das spiel. Because he is ten times better than dein papa!" He stamped his foot on the ground. Andrei stood up to his full height – which wasn't very tall – and stepped forwards.

"Don't say that!" he cried angrily. Hermione stepped forward too.

"Now, Andrei, honey, don't be rude," she said calmly. She heard cheers as Germany scored another fifty points.

From behind the boy opposite there was also a voice, also speaking with a German accent. "Klaus, I told you not to bother anyone! Come here now." A woman suddenly appeared. She had long, shiny blonde hair that was loose down her back, and wore a dress that reminded Hermione of The Sound of Music, except tighter and shorter. It showed off the woman's unnaturally skinny figure, which was basically a skeleton covered in flesh-tone-coloured cellophane. Hermione shuddered. She may not be perfect in the eyes of the media, but at least she didn't look like that.

The little boy – Klaus, it seemed – was still talking.

"My papa is the best Quidditch player in the world!" he boasted. "He ist die Seeker für the German team. He can do many tricks – not like your papa. He can only do that stupid Wronky Faint trick."

Without warning, Andrei launched himself at Klaus, screaming and yelling and biting and kicking. Hermione, as she tried to pull him away, heard him muttering, "My daddy… is the best player… in the whole… wide… world!" Klaus simply screamed as the pair rolled around the floor. Their mothers followed them around as they rolled, each mother clutching her son and attempting to tug him off of the other boy. Well, Klaus wasn't fighting. He was crying. But Andrei, on other hand, would not let go of the other boy.

Suddenly, the commentator's voice boomed out, "And Krum has seen the Snitch! He's really flying, there, and he's dodging, he's weaving, oh, and now Thomas has seen it too, they're racing to get it, if Krum gets this then Bulgaria wins… and they're diving down to the bottom of the pitch, now, and Thomas is reaching out, but wait, he misses, oh, he's fallen – and Krum gets the Snitch! Bulgaria win! Bulgaria win!" Both Klaus' and Andrei's heads shot up and they immediately stopped fighting. Andrei rolled off Klaus and ran to the glass window.

"M…Mama," sniffed Klaus. "Did we lose?"

His mother scowled. "Yes, Klaus." She turned to look at Hermione, who was dusting Andrei off. "We lost. Come. Let's go and meet Papa."

Hermione took Andrei and Stefan silently away, trying to ignore the glares that were shooting her way. She did not get to see Krum; he was surrounded by reporters and fans. She waved to him, and he waved back. She also caught a glimpse of the German Seeker, looking very downcast. He had one arm around his rail-thin wife, and the other around Klaus. When they looked up and saw her, they glared once more. Hermione quickly gathered the boys and apparated back to the house. EN

It was early on Sunday morning, the morning after Bulgaria's victory over Germany. The children had all been tended to by nannies and were now playing contentedly in their rooms.

Hermione had woken at eight o' clock and was now on her way downstairs in her dressing gown. As she entered the breakfast room, a maid appeared and pulled back a chair for her, before placing a newspaper – the Daily Prophet – on the table and leaving, a, "Good morning, ma'am," hanging in the air behind her.

Hermione sat down at the table, lifting the newspaper.

The maid reappeared, this time holding a glass and pitcher of juice. Hermione thanked her. And then turned to the newspaper and focused on the front page. Her mouth went completely dry, and her face seemed to drain of blood. On the front page was plastered the headline:

TOO MUCH FIREWHISKY FOR KRUM? in bold type. Above this was a picture of her dear husband. He looked dazed, his eyes blank, but his mouth was open in laughter. As the picture moved, Hermione saw that he had his arms around two girls on either side of him. They were both blonde, with thin, toned bodies. They were also on the… busty side. They looked nothing like Hermione, who had a slim frame and a chest which left something to be desired. Fingering a coil of her curly brown hair, still in shock, she began to read.

"Following his victory over Germany at the Quiditch Eurocup yesterday, international Quidditch player Viktor Krum was spotted partying in a Norwegian nightclub last night. A source told The Prophet that Krum was seen to be drinking vast quantites of alcohol and partying wildly.

"He was drinking far too much, especially since he's got a big match in a week and needs to be training was dancing with loads of girls as well. He seemed to forget that he has a wife already," they say.

The Bulgarian superstar was seen to be dancing with and kissing three separate girls, including Norwegian supermodel Eva Hurst.

"They were becoming increasingly intimate as the night went on," reveals our source. "Towards the end they just couldn't keep their hands off of eachother. It was horrible to watch – especially as you know that his wife and three children are waiting for him at home."

Indeed, Krum's wife Hermione and three children Andrei, Stefan and Katerina, are currently residing in London and only see Krum when they come to his games as they did yesterday. But what will happen now that they find out about this husband and father's terrible betrayal? Story continues on page 3."

A/N: I really hoped you like my story! Please REVIEW so I can get advice on how to make my story better, eg how to portray my characters more realistically. Also do you think Hermione is like her character in the real book or not? That was one thing I was really worried about. Please review and tell me what you think!