Trust your instincts. If he ever makes you feel unsafe, don't make excuses, just get up and leave. That's all there is to it. It's better to be safe than sorry.

Viktor was a great guy. The Quidditch star, good looking, accented English and mysterious-the perfect combination. I was ecstatic that he'd asked me to the Yule Ball, choosing me from amongst all the other girls. I'd gone an extra mile in making myself look good for the night, taking painstaking amounts of time to fix up my hair and do my makeup. I know I'm not the traditional, gorgeous girl. But any girl can become her, if she just tries enough.

So I went all out to get a pretty, but conservative, dress and Ginny helped me do my makeup. By the end of the session, I stood in front of the mirror and knew it was worth the time. I still felt shy, as I stepped into the ballroom, but Viktor instantly came up to me and escorted me to the ballroom, like the gentleman he was. I felt everyone's gaze at me, and it made me even more shy, and a little bit giddy. We entered the hall first, he being a Triwizard Competition participant, and me his date. As we waltzed, his hand kept roaming about my back, but I ignored it. It was my first real date, and first ball, and I was having too much fun to realize the seriousness of the happenings. He was a perfect gentleman later, though, going to bring me a drink, and getting me a seat to rest my feet on. Obviously, the night's fun ended early with me getting frustrated and upset with Ron's jealousy issues.

We did keep in contact though, writing to each other all throughout the year. His english wasn't very good, so he tried to mask that by writing less. He updated me about his schoolwork, and I used to tell him about Hogwarts. Somehow though, it never ventured further than that. I just didn't feel comfortable enough to share personal details with him, and I kept changing the subject if it ever came up in one of his letters.

Truthfully, I think I kept in touch with him only because it made Ron jealous. Yes, I was stupid enough to think I was in love with him, and me talking to other boys had seemed to make him realize, well, me.

Then I got caught up in helping Harry save the world, and lost all contact with Viktor. Never once during our wanderings did I think of him, and we only met again when I began working at St. Mungo's for my internship. He came in because of an arm injury, and his not being a major case, I was assigned to be his Healer. I was surprised to see him, and even more so when he asked me out for that evening. I hesitantly agreed, and he offered to make dinner at his flat in Muggle London.

When I reached the flat at the address he had given me, I immediately knew he'd meant it to be a more serious date than I had estimated. I looked completely out of place, my jeans, tank top and cardigan mismatched with the dim light setting he'd created.

He leaned in to kiss me, but I purposely-on-accident moved my face, so he caught only my cheek. He remained unfazed, and went into the kitchen to bring out a glass of white wine for me. We sat on the sofa, but he kept trying to get closer to my seat. I kept sliding away bit by bit, but he kept moving with me. Then he tried to kiss me again. It made me queasy, and I immediately shot up.

"I'm sorry, Viktor. This isn't going to work, I've got to go."

I bolted out, and apparated to my flat, pulling the wards back up.

Daddy's list never failed. Three months later, as you know, Viktor had been arrested for molesting a young muggle girl.

Then there's you. I remember being really reluctant about going out with you the first time. Firstly, there was the element of shock, that you were asking me out. Sure we'd become friendly at work, but we were still from different worlds. Secondly, the date with Viktor had been fresh in my mind, because if you remember, his trial had been going on even then, five years after the incident, given his star status. Thirdly, I wasn't sure of your intentions, given the rumors of your playboy-ish nature. I've never told you this, but I agreed to meet you at the restaurant out of intrigue.

Throughout the evening, I expected you to make an implication for your hopes for the progression of the evening. You made none. Given our history, I was supposed to feel uncomfortable. But I didn't. Not once. You engaged me in conversations about topics of mutual interest, being a perfect gentleman and even allowing me to order for myself. You escorted me back to my flat, and made no move for more. That's what allowed me to accept you.

You'd passed the first test quite easily, you see.