letters to vicky, a story of heartbreak

disclaimer: if you think i am jk rowling, you seriously need a checkup at st. mungo's. like, now. (you could read my story first, though :D)

a/n: i was supposed to be thinking of more ideas for the third chapter of that's ridiculous and look what happened instead. originally this was going to be part of the fourth chapter...meh. it grew and mutated into this beauty/monster. don't forget to review!

Hermione was, to put it quite frankly, bored.

Not that she didn't enjoy staying with the Order (I mean, sure they don't let us in on meetings, but at least I have some idea of what's going on!), and with Ron...and Ginny of course, it was just that cleaning up their house at Grimmauld Place was not even Hermione's idea of a holiday. To make matters worse, she was sure that Harry was furious with her and Ron, but what was she supposed to do? Dumbledore had made them swear; she only hoped that, once Harry arrived, he would understand.

They were taking another of their frequent breaks, thanks to Ron's work-phobia (or cleaning-phobia, at least) when an owl swooped through the nearest window and landed on the arm of Hermione's chair. Pleased, she took the envelope from it and read the letter inside.

Dear Hermione,

It was from Viktor of course! He had sent her so many nice letters, it really was a pity she couldn't visit him in Bulgaria. But she knew that Harry needed her in such a hard time. She kept reading.

Are you well? I hope so. Everyone is panicked here, although He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named hurt the British more than us. I think some of them believe Harry, too, although some side with your Minister and say it's impossible.

I am sorry too that you could not stay for the holidays with me, but I understand about your friends. Also, being a good friend of Harry's you must be in more danger...that is why you are hiding out, I assume. You mentioned you were not at home and not at the house of the Weasley's. I would not want you to risk yourself by leaving the country.

He was so thoughtful, Hermione sighed to herself, unlike certain other people. She aimed a glare at Ron, who amazingly had not yet commented on the letter. Must be a new record, or he's just waiting until I finish to ridicule me.

And I have a question that I would like an answer to, Hermione, how do you think of me? Am I a good friend, a best friend? A close friend, a...what is it called, pen pal? A boyfriend, perhaps?

Hermione paused, a sinking feeling in her stomach. She read the rest of the letter slowly, not paying much attention as she tried to figure out the best way to word what she needed to say. She wrote the rest of her reply before answering his question.

Viktor, I think of you as a close friend, I suppose...but I have to tell you something. I'm not looking for a romantic relationship with you right now...actually, I'm kind of interested in someone else. She kept her eyes firmly on the parchment and not at the "someone else" now scrutinizing her.

I hope that was the right answer, she thought, as she sealed the letter and let the owl rest. I just hope so.

xXx

Another letter came. Once again, Ron watched her read it in surly silence. She knew that he knew that it wasn't from Harry. What she was glad of, however, was that Ron was not incredibly smart, did not have raptor vision, and was not a Legilimens, because the whole letter was in fact about him, even if he couldn't tell from reading it. And even though Viktor didn't know that, yet.

It wasn't a terribly long letter.

Dear Hermione,

If it is not an awful bother, I would like to know who it is that you like in that way, and why you do. I am merely curious, and I hope you two will be happy.

Sincerely,

Viktor.

She bit her lip, wondering how much she could write when running the risk of someone seeing. "Um, I have to, have to go, er, change," she sputtered out. She had always been an awful liar, especially to some of her best friends. Ron and Ginny just nodded, although Hermione felt his eyes follow her all the way out. She raced up the stairs, making an awful racket, and then finally burst into the room she shared with Ginny.

She sat down on the bed, panting. Now came the problem of actually writing about the feelings that had plagued her since...well, she wasn't sure exactly how long, but a good long time. She sucked on the end of her quill; a bad habit she resolved to break, but this was not the time. She took out her copy of Hogwarts, A History and placed it behind the blank parchment.

Dear Viktor, she wrote, trying to stay calm and not burst into tears.

The boy I happen to have feelings for is Ron; you've met him, the redhaired boy...I know you two didn't exactly get along, but I'm pretty sure you remember him. That was a few understatements in a row; she wished to use a phrase stronger than "have feelings for"...perhaps "am madly in love with" would work better...and the not exactly getting along, well, that was another understatement, although that was all Ron's fault. And she was fairly sure that Viktor would not have forgotten the jealous redhead so easily.

As for why I like him, I'm not sure myself. Maybe it's because he's brave, not that I'm saying you're not! And so is Harry, for that matter. He's good at chess, although I hardly think that's a reason to fancy him. He's fiercely loyal. He's funny, I suppose, when he's not in a bad mood, but unfortunately you didn't see that side of Ron, and I think his "jealousy" was just loyalty. She sighed. There was a small chance...but no, not after the way he'd acted before the Yule Ball. That was pointless.
Of course I still want to be friends and pen pals, Viktor, I just thought you should know. As for us being happy, well, I doubt we'll ever get together, we just bicker too much! It's just too much to take!

Love, Hermione, she finished with a flourish.

She heard clumping footsteps coming up the stairs; Ron. She hoped he would pass by her room, hoping he was going to his own room.

She felt rather awful, and the longer she thought about it the more awful she felt, until finally she lost it and began crying. Hermione hated crying. It was so, so pointless, so unproductive. And most of all, it was noisy, and she was sure that Ron would hear it.

Hermione, as always, was right. The footsteps stopped and then began walking, more softly, to her door. He knocked, imagine that! She didn't answer, hoping that would deter him. This time she was wrong. This was, after all, Ron. He opened the door. "Er...Hermione?"

"Go away," she snapped.

He held up his hands. "I just wanted to know what was wrong!"

This made Hermione cry even harder. The one time Ron wasn't being an absolute prat, she was being mean to him. But she couldn't tell him what was wrong! He couldn't find out! God, oh no, now he's sitting down next to me, so gingerly it's like he thinks I'll break! Go away! Act like a jerk! Give me a reason to be mad at you!

But instead, Ron looked at her with such worry that Hermione wanted to slap him. "What is it?"
She shook her head, but made the mistake of looking at her letter. Ron's fists clenched. "Did that Bulgarian git break up with you?" He reached behind her and snatched it up.

"Ron!" she protested, grabbing his arm. Her face reddened, but she didn't let go. She let out a small sob before continuing, hating herself for still crying. "I-it's not like that, Ron! I-I broke up w-with him!"

Ron stopped trying to release his arm and looked at her. "You did?" She saw his face visibly go from anger to shock and confusion. "But why? I thought you really liked the guy!"

"I-I like someone else," Hermione said with as much dignity as one can have when your eyes are red and puffy, your face is stained with tear tracks, and your nose is stopped up. "And no, Ron, I'm not going to tell you who it is."

xXx

That night...

"Ron told me about you crying," Ginny said briskly, sitting up in bed after Mrs. Weasley was safely downstairs. "But he wouldn't tell me why. What happened, Hermione?"

Hermione was silent for a long time. Ginny waited semi-patiently. "You have to promise to never tell anybody," she began hesitantly.

"I promise!" Ginny said quickly. "I'll never tell anybody, cross my heart and hope to die, no matter what they do to me."

"They?" Hermione asked, smiling but puzzled.

"The twins. And Ron." Hermione did not need any mentions of his name, but she supposed if she was going to tell Ginny what had happened...

"Ginny, you remember that letter from Viktor I got a few weeks ago?"

"Of course. Ron was fuming for hours." Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Well..."

"Bloody hell," Ginny swore, reminding Hermione irresistably of Ron. Again. "You...turned down...an international Quidditch player...for my brother?"
Hermione nodded silently.

"Holy sh-" Ginny began, but Hermione covered her mouth.

"We don't need to wake anybody up!" Hermione hissed. "Yes, I did, and I'm still not sure why!" She removed her hand from the younger girl's mouth.

"Wow," she breathed, "you must really be insane. You like my brother that much?"
Hermione nodded again.

"You've got it bad..."

xXx

That morning, the letter came.

Viktor sat up to the sounds of an owl rapping on the window. He muttered a curse in Bulgarian while stumbling over to the window and opening it.

Oh. Hermione's reply. He ripped it open, both excited and dreading the answer. He knew now she didn't like him...unless it was a joke, or maybe by now she no longer liked her British fancy...whoever it was. But he wanted to know who it was, and how they had won over him.

As soon as he unfolded the parchment, he knew. The name jumped out on the page, although it was no bigger than the others.

Ron.

He read the rest of the letter, shocked. He had thought, maybe Harry, maybe another boy from their school, but how could she possibly like that boy? He had been nothing but rude to her! But was that all a mask? Was their bickering a sign of something more?
Viktor slumped back into bed. He could not believe that Hermione had turned him down, Viktor Krum, who had thousands of fangirls, turned him down for an average type of redhead with a bad temper. There was something wrong with the world.