AN: All recognisable characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
The bored boy sitting at the desk looked around the classroom. His teacher—who was interestingly part-goblin—was droning on about the wizards' greed, and how that led to the goblin rebellions of the 1600s. His teacher was also hinting that Britain's Ministry of Magic was at fault, due to many careless mistakes against the goblins, and that the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic would have fared better against the attacks.
The boy rolled his eyes. Of course his teacher would defame Britain. After all, it was a British school who won the Triwizard Tournament. After all, it was Britain who hosted the Quidditch World Cup that made the Bulgarian team lose. After all, it was a British girl that had caught their famous student's attention.
His eagle eyes took in the room—the unimpressive stone slabs, the empty blackboard, and the blood-red uniform of his classmates.
His surroundings were very different from the place he saw her, her found her. Hers was bright—windows poured in the sunlight—despite the fact that they were both in castles. Hers was full of students, all laughing with their friends, seemingly carefree. His was dull, dark, its cold chilling to the bone, and eerily silent, as if its occupants were not allowed to speak.
Since he came back, he felt like the place suffocated him. He had enjoyed the little flying he'd had since he got back, but it had reminded him of losing the World Cup. And again, it had reminded him of her, when they were at the Yule Ball and he had been describing Durmstrang Castle to her.
He sighed. His friend, who sat beside him, nudged him and shoved a parchment unto his desk.
Thinking about her again?
He glared at his friend, pushing the parchment away. His friend scribbled once more on the parchment, and pushed it under his nose again.
You know she likes someone else, right? That pathetic redhead.
Didn't his friend understand this was the one subject he didn't want to talk about? Yes, he was jealous that she preferred 'that pathetic redhead' to someone like him. He was an international Quidditch player, for Merlin's sake! He had hordes of female fans after him, and the one girl he liked preferred someone else.
He grabbed the quill lazing on his desk, signed an expletive, and leaned back on his chair. He felt his annoyance mount as his friend returned it to him with a reply.
Can't be love. You didn't know her for more than a day, other than stalking her in the library.
Gritting his teeth in irritation, he furiously wrote: So what would you call it?
There was a snigger, and the paper was returned with one word.
Lust.
With a snarl, he stood up, scrunching the parchment in his right hand. His friend looked terrified, clearly not knowing how many buttons he had just pushed. The teacher paused in his lecture with a simple, "Detention," before continuing like nothing had happened.
Clearly, select few of the teachers cared for his status. Often, he preferred it, to be treated just like his friends, other days—like that day—he wished they'd cut him some slack.
Breathing deeply, trying to keep his wrath in check, he sat down again. He sent a glance at his friend, not really apologising, more of an acknowledging look. His friend nodded slightly, before continuing to write notes, the look on his face shocked.
The boy resisted a sigh with difficulty. He was starting to alienate his friends with his behaviour.
Before the Tournament, before he met her, he was content in Durmstrang. When he visited England for the Tournament and met her, he wished he could stay. She changed his life. He didn't want to be here, where his friends didn't know which limits to stick in, where the castle was cold and uninviting, where he was away from her.
Viktor Krum hated school.
.
.
.
AN:
Homework given by Vanity Sinning.
Also dedicated to her ( hint: Birthday thread =P )
Review your thoughts and opinions.