"So how is the search going for a new backup seeker?"
The camera flashbulb exploded once more, the light briefly wiping out the expectant faces of the audience, quills poised at the ready as Nina leaned forward to speak into the mic. Viktor hated press conferences. His Papa seconded that opinion, having to be manhandled out of Viktor's first press conference by his Dad, Viktor wide eyed and stoic as the reporter repeated the question before Nina cut him down, this grown man who felt entitled to talk down to a sixteen year old. His Dad re-entered the room and stayed quietly in the back, occasionally smiling in encouragement at his son, his chest swelling with pride as his husband hissed curses and slammed lawsuits at the reporter as quickly as he could form the words. Now his Papa stayed at home, waiting by the fire and stress cleaning as he waited for the call that everything was okay, his Dad remained at the back, watching and nodding in encouragement.
Viktor slowly let out a breath, forcing himself to settle back in his seat, forcing himself to relax, white knuckles uncurling as he studied his teammates.

Matthias had stopped paying attention during press conferences long ago, instead choosing to twist the paperclips in front of him into a mangled towering structure, tip of his tongue clenched between his teeth as he worked. Nothing short of a bomb exploding in his face was going to distract him now, sending small mints rolling down his masterpiece as he made small minute changes to the metal tracks. Iona watched him, plaiting his hair with deft nimble movements as she weaved ribbons and other colourful scraps of fabric into his dark black locks. The pair of beaters had quite the dedicated following, some fawning over Matthias improbable structures made entirely without magic, others delighting over Iona's use of colours and patterns to plot out mosaics in plaits, Matthias long hair providing the perfect canvas in comparison to her own shaved head. Zora was faintly vibrating, her bouncing leg sending ripples through the water balanced on the table. She glanced between Nina and the reporter, quill skittering across the parchment as she mixed doodles with meticulous note taking, words melding with the drawings in an almost illegible mess to anyone but her. Ivan looked as if he was paying attention to the undiscerning eye, back straight, head up and eyes locked onto an unknown point in the far distance. However his eyes were glazed over, a ball of wool resting by his feet as his hands worked frantically under the table. His chosen method of crocheting was quieter than Alexi's knitting, the other Chaser having to move slower to compensate for the clacking of his needles. That was part of the reason why they loved the controversy, more noise meant they could craft faster, eyes darting from the middle distance to underneath the table. Alexi was primarily lounging backwards in his chair, eyes darting between the ground and his craft project, brow furrowed as they worked. Julia was breath taking at press conferences, her hair neatly pinned up, make up expertly applied as she batted long eyelashes at the reporters whenever they strode too close to the line. This illusion only worked on the newer reporters, those cocky enough to cross the line and to not heed their older colleges warning. After all, she was just a small girl, dainty like a porcelain doll. Obviously this was some sort of hazing. They only thought that once. Framed in the teams locker room was a blown up wizarding photograph of the tiny girl throwing a table at a reporter who tried to suggest that Ivan just hadn't found the right woman yet, so couldn't possibly be gay.

Viktor loved his teammates, he truly did. Not many teams would have welcomed someone into their ranks as seamlessly as they did, particularly when he was a lot younger than them and still in school at the time of his joining. They were his family. That made situations like this both a blessing and a burden. He could sense their eyes upon him, some with raised eyebrows, some with knowing smirks, as Nina briefly dismissed the question, her answer meaningless wrapped up in false platitudes.

"What are your plans for this upcoming season?"
"Is Viktor planning on retiring early?"
"What does this mean for the future of the Bulgarian team?"

Viktor fought the urge to lie his head down on the desk and try to sleep amid the cacophony of noise erupting around him. He raised his head to search for his Dad, and froze.

He had to be kidding him.

His Dad threw back his head in a laugh, only slightly muffled behind his hand, still chuckling as he took a swig of his coffee, unable to escape the look of disgust passing over his face. And in front of him, was Viktor's mystery man. He was still obscured, facing entirely away from the benches on which the team were sat, but nothing could hide the mess of red hair spilling down his back, the freckles visible dotting his hands as he gesticulated when he talked. Had they noticed? Viktor glanced at his teammates, currently slouched in their normal press conference positions as he breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Maybe he could get through this, maybe he would be able to track the man down after this press conference. How did his Dad know him?

Zora's gasp hit him like a bludger to the face. With mounting dread, Viktor slowly turned his head to her, every nerve in his body screaming at him to run. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the mystery turn his head partially and begin to make his way through the crowd of reporters, ducking and dodging like a professional. No wonder he was a good Seeker.
"Matthias! Smoke bomb! NOW!"

To Matthias' credit, he did not even hesitate. There could be no hesitation in Quidditch. The tiny glass vial smashed against the podium, large clouds of heavy white smoke exploding out and filling the room which quickly dissolved into panicked screams and heavy feet hitting the ground. Viktor moved as fast as he could, vaulting over the table and landing in the press pit, immediately getting checked by a panicked journalist, staggering backwards from the force of the impact. A fierce grin spread across his face and he began to move, heavy and low, towards the back of the room where he knew his Dad and the mystery man had been. Hopefully he made it before the Beaters' did. Hands grabbed hold of his and his Dad pulled him close to his chest, turning and knocking Viktor against the wall, shielding him from the scrambled mess of bodies that were slowly becoming visible as common sense reared it's head, wands out and wind blowing to usher away the thick clouds.

And his mystery man had vanished once again.

"Fuck."
"Watch your fucking language," his Dad snapped, protective anger warring with the urge to make a joke, giving him a weak smile as he smoothed Viktor's hair back from his face, "Your Papa is not going to be happy about this. What possessed you to run through a reporter mosh pit?"
Viktor ignored the whoops behind him, Ivan and Matthias dancing around in circles, heavy boots clomping on the stage as Julia played heavy rock music through her wand, jumping along with the beat.
"I saw my mystery man over here. You were talking to him!"
"Ah," his Dad nodded knowingly, a mysterious smile on his face that he held for a full ten seconds before he crumbled under Viktor's unamused stare.
"You are your Papa's son," he said, tapping Viktor on the nose, "He's in the changing room."
"Thank you Dad," Viktor said before running out of the room, vaulting over a reporter who did move out of the way fast enough. He was confined to the ground still, body heavy and unwieldy but in this moment he was as fast and free as a bird.

Viktor skidded to a halt in front of the door of the changing room, chest heaving as he caught his breath, heart slamming against his ribs. It loomed before him, a path Fate was sending him on and yet...

Viktor was many things, but never a coward. Squaring his shoulder, Viktor pushed open the door.

Perched on the benches in the centre of the room, swinging his legs was his mystery man, a wide grin on his unconcealed face.
"Hello," Viktor said gruffly, trying to conceal his staring.
"Hello," the mystery man said, openly staring back, "My name is Charlie Weasley."
"Viktor Krum," came the automatic response, Viktor blushing to his ears as Charlie chuckled.
"My Bulgarian isn't good. Can you speak English?" Charlie asked, pressing his lips together in a quick frown, shrugging helplessly.
"Yes. Speaking is hard, but understand yes," Viktor answered, feeling the words come out harsh and clunky in his mouth.
"I don't normally track down men after beating them in flying competitions," Charlie said, hiding his grin behind his hand at Viktor's scowl and tut at the end of his words, "but you were different. Not attraction, not my thing, but maybe something different."
"Yes, the same for me," Viktor said, hope welling in his heart. Someone like him? He barely believed it was possible and yet...

Charlie breathed out a sigh of relief, the man visibly relaxing, a slow smile forming on his face.
"Would you like to grab some lunch and have a chat face to face?"
Viktor nodded, offering Charlie his arm and the other man gratefully took it, matching relaxed smiles on both their faces as they exited the changing room and into the unknown future together.