Where In The World Is Ron Weasley?
By Belldandy
A/N: I support Ron/Hermione romances, but I also support Hermione/Krum romances! In every Hermione/Whoever fic I read, everyone forgets about Krum! So, I decided to write a story all about Hermione, Ron, and Viktor Krum! Hope you enjoy. And if you don't review, I won't work continue it! Yes, I do live off the opinions of other people when it comes to my writing. *Note: Hermione is now eighteen, finished with school, and visiting Krum in the winter. Krum has his own house now. I almost made it her visit to see him in the summer after the end of her fourth year, but I'd already started it and realized that it isn't snowy in the summer. My mistake!*
P.S. I apologize for any misspellings, because I have some references to the fourth book in this story. As I do not own the fourth book, I do not frequently read the words or have access to check them. I listen to it on cassette, but that does not at all help with spelling. Feel free to correct me in a review! *Hint hint nudge nudge*
~*~*Part One ~ Hermione and Viktor*~*~
The ground was covered in a thin, frosty quilt of the most magnificently sparkling snow that Hermione had ever seen. Clutching Viktor's fluffy fur coat around her own, which now seemed flimsy, she walked alongside him and marveled at how he could have given it up in the cold like this.
But Viktor's home in Bulgaria was losing its magic in Hermione's eyes. After three weeks, the surprises of the magical advancements, numerous servants, and luxurious surroundings of Viktor's' manor were losing its novelty to her. And of course, she disapproved, to Viktor's glum confusion, of the six House Elves enslaved to mantain the property. By now, the only thing Hermione could really find exciting or interesting anymore was Viktor himself. Crookshanks, however, was another story. He was often seen enjoying himself when chasing the elves and snoozing on the rich furniture before an aggravated servant would hurry in and shoo him away as he spit at her angrily. He would then flounce away, his bottlebrush tail in the air.
Hermione could still, she found, content herself by being alone with Viktor, as she was now. She felt slightly delinquent, as if she were breaking some sort of rules by taking a walk with him where no one was around them. Her parents had been very reluctant to allow her to go all the way to Bulgaria to stay with a twenty-two-year-old boy that they didn't know very well. Of course, to Hermione, he wasn't a boy at all. Perhaps that was why she felt so safe and secure with him. Besides, she was eighteen now, and they could not stop her.
She and Viktor looked at each other, smiling for a moment, and Hermione looked back down at the ground in front of her. She gazed out at the white hills gently rolling around them, all smooth and glittering. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw their footprints that stood obviously out against the unscathed snow all around. Hermione had yet to see the many acres of the property, but she suspected it wasn't much different than what she'd already seen; rolling mounds of snow and ice. Her breath rose in misty clouds around her head, and fell behind her as she walked. Hermione looked to start a conversation, sifting through various questions and statements to ask or say. They approached a small clump of trees. Hermione shivered, her teeth chattering violently.
"Perhaps vee should go back to zee house?" Viktor asked gruffly. He looked at her, his dark eyes clouded mysteriously. His hooked nose looked pale, and his lips white, but he did not ask for his coat back. A light breeze blew, scraping a bit of snow from the ground, and Hermione saw it blow at him, leaving little white snowflakes in his dark brown hair. He didn't seem to notice, though, as he looked at her concernedly. "You look very cold, Her-mee-o-ninny."
Through her chattering teeth, Hermione had to smile. He still had difficulty with her name, no matter how slowly or clearly she said it to him. She was beginning to suspect that he did this on purpose; she had heard him pronounce it perfectly when talking on the phone one night as she had gotten up for water. What he was saying about her, she wasn't sure of, because he had hung up before she could get an idea. She nodded numbly, and said, "So do you." She moved to give him back his coat, but he shook his head.
"Keep zee coat. Yours is not warm enough." He said quietly. He took the coat, wrapped it tighter around her and let his hands stay there for a few more seconds, holding the furs around her before he reached up to gently touch her cheek. They turned and walked back over their own footprints, their boots crunching softly with each step.
Ahead of them, Hermione saw the mansion peeking over a snowy hill. They neared it slowly, the whistle of the wind in the bare trees around them. The only other noise around was the crunch of their boots and soft breath.
"So... vhat is Potter doing zeese days?" Viktor asked.
"I was wondering if you'd heard about that," Hermione said, looking up at him. "He was accepted onto the Scottish Quidditch team at the beginning of season. He's doing magnificently. I think you might have some competition at the next World Cup! I'm sure that with Harry on the team, Scotland will get pretty far." She smiled happily, thinking of her friend, one of the best fliers and bravest wizards she knew. Best flier next to Viktor, of course.
He blinked, then looked thoughtful. "And... zee other one? Ron, vas it?"
Hermione nodded. "Yes. He's trying to get a job as a photographer for the Daily Prophet, I think." She was silent for a moment, then frowned in distaste. "I sure hope he doesn't work with that wretched Rita Skeeter! She always had that evil photographer flanking her nearly everywhere she went."
Viktor's expression turned sour at the mention of Rita Skeeter. He apparently agreed with her. She guessed that he still hadn't forgotten about the Tri-Wizard Tournament during which Skeeter had squeezed his name, misspelt, with the champion of Beauxbaton's, in the very end of a long article that centered around Harry. She couldn't blame Viktor, either.
They walked inside to greet the merrily crackling fire, taking off their boots and hanging their coats. They sat on the couch, talking about what they were planning to do together now that she was out of school. Marriage entered their conversation once or twice, but Hermione didn't feel ready to get married. Viktor looked slightly disappointed at this, but did not persue the matter.
It began to snow crazily outside. The windows got foggy, and all they could see outside was white. The wind roared darkly as it blew the snow in all directions. Hermione and Viktor felt very snug on the couch by the fire, where it was warm.
After a while, the doorbell rang. A servant scurried by Viktor and Hermione to answer it, and came back a few moments later, followed by a tall, gangly, snow-covered man with freckles and flame-red hair.
To be continured...
By Belldandy
A/N: I support Ron/Hermione romances, but I also support Hermione/Krum romances! In every Hermione/Whoever fic I read, everyone forgets about Krum! So, I decided to write a story all about Hermione, Ron, and Viktor Krum! Hope you enjoy. And if you don't review, I won't work continue it! Yes, I do live off the opinions of other people when it comes to my writing. *Note: Hermione is now eighteen, finished with school, and visiting Krum in the winter. Krum has his own house now. I almost made it her visit to see him in the summer after the end of her fourth year, but I'd already started it and realized that it isn't snowy in the summer. My mistake!*
P.S. I apologize for any misspellings, because I have some references to the fourth book in this story. As I do not own the fourth book, I do not frequently read the words or have access to check them. I listen to it on cassette, but that does not at all help with spelling. Feel free to correct me in a review! *Hint hint nudge nudge*
~*~*Part One ~ Hermione and Viktor*~*~
The ground was covered in a thin, frosty quilt of the most magnificently sparkling snow that Hermione had ever seen. Clutching Viktor's fluffy fur coat around her own, which now seemed flimsy, she walked alongside him and marveled at how he could have given it up in the cold like this.
But Viktor's home in Bulgaria was losing its magic in Hermione's eyes. After three weeks, the surprises of the magical advancements, numerous servants, and luxurious surroundings of Viktor's' manor were losing its novelty to her. And of course, she disapproved, to Viktor's glum confusion, of the six House Elves enslaved to mantain the property. By now, the only thing Hermione could really find exciting or interesting anymore was Viktor himself. Crookshanks, however, was another story. He was often seen enjoying himself when chasing the elves and snoozing on the rich furniture before an aggravated servant would hurry in and shoo him away as he spit at her angrily. He would then flounce away, his bottlebrush tail in the air.
Hermione could still, she found, content herself by being alone with Viktor, as she was now. She felt slightly delinquent, as if she were breaking some sort of rules by taking a walk with him where no one was around them. Her parents had been very reluctant to allow her to go all the way to Bulgaria to stay with a twenty-two-year-old boy that they didn't know very well. Of course, to Hermione, he wasn't a boy at all. Perhaps that was why she felt so safe and secure with him. Besides, she was eighteen now, and they could not stop her.
She and Viktor looked at each other, smiling for a moment, and Hermione looked back down at the ground in front of her. She gazed out at the white hills gently rolling around them, all smooth and glittering. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw their footprints that stood obviously out against the unscathed snow all around. Hermione had yet to see the many acres of the property, but she suspected it wasn't much different than what she'd already seen; rolling mounds of snow and ice. Her breath rose in misty clouds around her head, and fell behind her as she walked. Hermione looked to start a conversation, sifting through various questions and statements to ask or say. They approached a small clump of trees. Hermione shivered, her teeth chattering violently.
"Perhaps vee should go back to zee house?" Viktor asked gruffly. He looked at her, his dark eyes clouded mysteriously. His hooked nose looked pale, and his lips white, but he did not ask for his coat back. A light breeze blew, scraping a bit of snow from the ground, and Hermione saw it blow at him, leaving little white snowflakes in his dark brown hair. He didn't seem to notice, though, as he looked at her concernedly. "You look very cold, Her-mee-o-ninny."
Through her chattering teeth, Hermione had to smile. He still had difficulty with her name, no matter how slowly or clearly she said it to him. She was beginning to suspect that he did this on purpose; she had heard him pronounce it perfectly when talking on the phone one night as she had gotten up for water. What he was saying about her, she wasn't sure of, because he had hung up before she could get an idea. She nodded numbly, and said, "So do you." She moved to give him back his coat, but he shook his head.
"Keep zee coat. Yours is not warm enough." He said quietly. He took the coat, wrapped it tighter around her and let his hands stay there for a few more seconds, holding the furs around her before he reached up to gently touch her cheek. They turned and walked back over their own footprints, their boots crunching softly with each step.
Ahead of them, Hermione saw the mansion peeking over a snowy hill. They neared it slowly, the whistle of the wind in the bare trees around them. The only other noise around was the crunch of their boots and soft breath.
"So... vhat is Potter doing zeese days?" Viktor asked.
"I was wondering if you'd heard about that," Hermione said, looking up at him. "He was accepted onto the Scottish Quidditch team at the beginning of season. He's doing magnificently. I think you might have some competition at the next World Cup! I'm sure that with Harry on the team, Scotland will get pretty far." She smiled happily, thinking of her friend, one of the best fliers and bravest wizards she knew. Best flier next to Viktor, of course.
He blinked, then looked thoughtful. "And... zee other one? Ron, vas it?"
Hermione nodded. "Yes. He's trying to get a job as a photographer for the Daily Prophet, I think." She was silent for a moment, then frowned in distaste. "I sure hope he doesn't work with that wretched Rita Skeeter! She always had that evil photographer flanking her nearly everywhere she went."
Viktor's expression turned sour at the mention of Rita Skeeter. He apparently agreed with her. She guessed that he still hadn't forgotten about the Tri-Wizard Tournament during which Skeeter had squeezed his name, misspelt, with the champion of Beauxbaton's, in the very end of a long article that centered around Harry. She couldn't blame Viktor, either.
They walked inside to greet the merrily crackling fire, taking off their boots and hanging their coats. They sat on the couch, talking about what they were planning to do together now that she was out of school. Marriage entered their conversation once or twice, but Hermione didn't feel ready to get married. Viktor looked slightly disappointed at this, but did not persue the matter.
It began to snow crazily outside. The windows got foggy, and all they could see outside was white. The wind roared darkly as it blew the snow in all directions. Hermione and Viktor felt very snug on the couch by the fire, where it was warm.
After a while, the doorbell rang. A servant scurried by Viktor and Hermione to answer it, and came back a few moments later, followed by a tall, gangly, snow-covered man with freckles and flame-red hair.
To be continured...