Disclaimer: I didn't write Harry Potter… blah, blah, blah… or any of the movies… blah, blah, blah… Ok time to read.
Chapter 2: Blast from the Past
"Miss Wheez –"
"I'm coming, Cossi!" Ginny was beyond the point of frustration. Ear infections were running rabid among the toddlers of wizarding Greece; Ginny calculated that she had seen a third of the temper-tantrum throwing two-year-olds. It didn't help that half the house elf staff had appeared off and on during the day. Though the gala she and Blaise were hosting was well over a month away, the elves had dozens of dizzying questions: which caterer to call, what flowers should be ordered, who should be invited, when the invitations should be sent, etc. Mrs. Zabini had already heard a rumor of the event and kept floo calling every couple of hours to "ensure" the party wasn't really celebrating an engagement. Ginny was beginning to think that jumping off of the roof wasn't too drastic.
"Miss Wheez-i-lee!" Cossi called again entering the office wearing her normal uniform of a pink and yellow pillow case.
"Cossi, leave me alone!" Ginny let her head fall on her desk. She was truly starting to believe Mrs. Zabini's psychotic house elves weren't all that necessary, and last night's hooky didn't offer any help to regain her vitality nor her sanity.
"But there is someone here to see Miss Wheez-i-lee!"
"Who?" The guest then walked in the door. Ginny looked as if she had just eaten one of her twin brothers' Canary Creams by mistake. There she stood in the door of Ginny's office. Her curls had relaxed a bit and were trimmed in a cute short style that framed her face. She had grown into her small bone structure. Though she might have gained a little bit of weight, it gave her a slightly athletic look – like a tennis player. Her skin was tan (like everyone else's in Piraievs) and freckles dusted the bridge of her nose. Hermione Granger-Krum looked quite happy.
Ginny squealed like a little piglet as she jumped from her desk and hugged her best friend. It was Hogwarts and Healer Training all over again – their childhood revisited. Their worse fears still were failing Snape's final, receiving a first kiss, and growing up. The world was still wonderful, and neither one of them could ever imagine leaving Britain.
"How are you?" Ginny asked holding her friend at an arm's length. "You look fabulous."
"So do you! I'm doing alright," Hermione replied. "How long has it been?"
"At least five months."
"Five months? It can't be!"
"It has, it has. How long are you in town? We should find some time to catch up." Ginny's head was spinning.
"I was on my way to lunch. Care to join me?" Ginny glanced down at a schedule that was too full for a lunch date. Two routine check-ups, a last minute addition, and a first time patient all were coming this afternoon. But it was a rare occasion when Hermione was in town. Normally she would have written to let Ginny know she was in Piraievs. Something was different, yet she couldn't put a finger on it.
"Cossi, call my patients and tell them their appointments have been pushed back about an hour and a half. If they want to reschedule, have them call me tomorrow. If Blaise is looking for me, tell him I'm with Hermione and I'll be back for dinner." And with that Ginny and Hermione stepped into the hearth.
xXxXx
It was another gorgeous day – the kind every little girl wants for her wedding. The sun shone down in such a gentle fashion and a cool breeze filtered in to offer relief from the sun's heat. Wispy clouds hung in the air with a care-free attitude about them. The sea had a gentle roll to it that day; it showed no evidence of the roughness it had displayed the night before. Two young women used the perfect day to bask in the sunlight outside their favorite café. Maybe it was the way the clear sky reflected in their eyes or maybe it was the adamant way they talked with every single employee, but whatever it was, the average passerby thought the women practically lived just to dine there.
"So I don't see a ring on your left hand, Miss Weasley," Hermione smiled over her glass of white wine.
"Oh don't even go there. Blaise doesn't. Every time we have dinner with his parents his mother asks if I've met his grandmother yet," Ginny explained.
"But –"
"Not that one. We're talking Nonna Zabini, the great matriarch of the Zabinis. Blaise wears only Italian dress robes – tie and all – when he goes to see her. But enough about my boring life, what brings you to Piraievs?"
"I live here."
Ginny just about choked on an olive and her eyes grew to the size of a Hungarian Horntail's eggs. Was she finally not alone? They say misery loves company. "I live here." The words rang in her ears. Certainly Viktor had come too; Hermione wouldn't leave him. But why Greece? Ginny thought Viktor would finish out his Quidditch years flying for Bulgaria, and he was not the kind to retire early with a good five or six years left to play. She had previously believed that if the couple were to move anywhere it would be England or somewhere in the UK, but never Greece. It was so random, and Ginny couldn't hide her bewildered looks.
"Remember when Viktor and I were in town last March?" Ginny nodded. How could she forget? Bulgaria was playing Greece, and they had been invited to one of Cho Chang's notorious dinner parties. Hermione had spent the night silently hiding in the corner because every time she opened her mouth Cho would dismiss her thoughts for "idle mudblood fodder." Ginny also picked out a few insults in Chinese the hostess said aside to her ladies in waiting, whom Ginny and Hermione had decidedly called "whores in training." Hermione continued, "He was working out contracts with the team in Athens whenever the players weren't on the field. Since he picked the country, I demanded that we lived near you or he'd be moving out here all alone." The ladies chuckled at the idea of Viktor living without Hermione. Ginny pictured a disastrously messy apartment and a very sex-deprived Viktor. Ginny was also pleased to see her friend laughing and being so nonchalant for a change.
"So how long is this contract for?" she asked allowing her chin to rest on her palm.
"Seven years." Seven years! Ginny suddenly perked up. "Then the team might let him coach, but that's only if they like the athletic trainer he brought along."
"Really, who is it?" the red head was desperately trying to conceal her excitement.
"Oh no one special," Hermione responded and then coolly polished off her wine. "But I really must get back to the library." Ginny laughed; some things never do change. "Please tell me you'll be at Cho's tomorrow?"
Ginny agreed. She would never leave Hermione alone with that Chinese Fireball ever again. They rose from the table and enjoyed a friendly embrace. With the meal paid for, the girls left the café tummies full and cheeks hurting from smiling so much.
xXxXx
Viktor Krum winced as he placed a bag of ice right below his ribs, while another sat under his right knee. He felt like a useless sack of potatoes – a beaten and very tired useless sack of potatoes. Practice had been a little tougher than what he had expected. Greece didn't only gain the best seeker of the century, but the team had managed to get their hands on two of the best beaters in Europe. Viktor could handle several blows to the stomach and ribs he had taken from bludgers, but towards the end of practice one bludger went straight for the knee he had dislocated two years prior. Though Draco had cleared him and swore his knee was fine, the haggard flier didn't feel so hot.
"I'm home!" Hermione called. His wife's voice was music to his ears. He also loved to listen to her bustle about their apartment in search for him. Sometimes Viktor would even hide in the bathroom and wait for her to enter the bedroom before grabbing her from behind and scaring the living daylights out of her.
"In the bedroom!" Viktor replied. Hermione entered the room a few moments later without the thousands of books her husband knew were most likely sitting on the kitchen counter.
"How does take-out sound – Sweet Merlin! Viktor Nikolai Krum! What the hell happened?" Mrs. Viktor Nikolai Krum stood in the door frame with her hands on her hips. She shot her husband a look that would have made Voldemort cry for his mommy and his blanket.
"Europe's two best beaters, dearest," he offered a hint of a smile in his pain. "Doesn't it help to know that during a game I have two people covering my arse who could knock a man who stayed in a game with a dislocated knee off his broom?" Hermione's shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. She didn't like remembering that game.
"What did Draco say?" she sighed.
"I'm fine!" Viktor put his hands up and turned his body from left to right.
"And your knee?" she cocked an eyebrow. He never could figure out how she did that while keeping a straight face.
"Didn't budge an inch. The ligaments and tendons are all intact, no displaced cartilage either. Other than a bruise and my ACL hurting like a bitch, I'm fine," Viktor patted the empty space next to him. "Come see for yourself."
Hermione skipped over and hopped onto the over-sized bed that took up a fair portion of the room. She snuggled under her husband's arm, careful not to accidentally bump his knee; she never got over how perfectly their bodies fit together. "How was lunch?" Viktor asked planting a kiss on her head.
"Good. I've never seen that girl get so excited over Quidditch contracts," Hermione giggled and nestled in closer. That smell – she absolutely adored his smell. It was leather and fresh air with a hint of cinnamon all molded into a perfect, unique scent that only belonged to Viktor Krum.
"She must be lonely… did you tell her about Draco?"
"No, but I wanted to. She and Blaise are nowhere near an engagement. The thought of it just terrifies her. There's no love there – an intense like most definitely, but not love. She misses England, she misses her family, and she misses Draco, even if she's too stubborn to admit it. She feels useless; she's not meant to be a trophy wife. It's all in her eyes."
"I'm guessing she doesn't know the real reason why you're here then?" Viktor began kissing Hermione's neck.
"Not yet. We'll explain everything at Cho's when she sees Draco." Hermione wriggled free of his grasp and straddled his hips facing him. "But for now, let's forget dinner."
Author's Note: So that's Chapter 2. Nothing special, but I did borrow Viktor Nikolai Krum from Miss Yettigoosecreature's fics (they're all wonderful by the way; read them!). Chapter 3 is in the works. Here's a hint at what's coming for all of those people who like Kill Bill: think about O-ren. Ok, review please. I really like criticisms.