Viktor had been gone for a week, honing his skills where dragon fighting was concerned. At the beginning of his trip, he had allowed his mind to wander, thinking of what the English might be doing, or whether she was hopelessly in love with Aage. However, by the end of the residential, Serg had well and truly convinced Viktor that Hermione Granger was not worth his time. Once they returned to Durmstrang, the unfortunate witch had all but been erased from his mind.
Hermione had noticed Viktor's absence for the week. She wondered where he was. It was Seamus who informed her.
"He's gone to Serbia, to train with dragons." He mumbled as he gobbled up his porridge one morning. Hermione wondered why Viktor had not spoken to her about his trip, but decided that they were not well enough acquainted to make speaking of such things a necessity.
Neville had been watching Hermione, to the lack of his new friend's knowledge. He hated seeing her in such a state, so alone and miserable. So one day, in between classes, he sought her out. However, when he saw her, she seemed rather engrossed in her reading, smiling to herself, and decided that another day might suit them both better.
Writing a diary had not come easily to Hermione.
"I am unsure what to write about." She admitted in her session with Chigvintsev on the tuesday.
"Write about anything, anything that crosses your mind. It is for you, not anyone else." He reassured her and surprisingly, her words flowed easier that night.
Dear Diary,
I find that the longer I stay at Durmstrang, the harder it becomes. The boys do not forget and I fear that they shall never accept me. I am happy for Neville and Luna, however I scold myself for feeling envy towards them. All of this did not seem so difficult when I had an ally with me, one of them. I suppose he simply took pity on me. I can not see how any other possibility exists. Ron shall be so unhappy, that I did not get his autograph when I had the chance. However bleak things might be, Master Chigvintsev's tutoring me has truly brightened my mood. He is challenging me in a way I have no experience of. I shall face this challenge head on, determined to succeed.
She did not watch the quidditch that weekend, for there was nobody to invite her. Instead, she sat in one of the classrooms, with a goblet of water. In their lesson, Chigvintsev had instructed Hermione to practice her water skills with a small amount of water. So there she sat, staring at a small cauldron, feeling like a fool.
"You must concentrate on the vater, how it moves, how it feels." Chigvintsev had said to her in their session.
"But how might I concentrate on how it feels, if I can not touch it?" Such ideas had seemed too fluid for Hermione. She had always enjoyed the concrete in magic. And this new earth magic through her off of her course. However, she was determined to succeed, so, she sat with the small cauldron and closed her eyes. She imagined the flow of water in her mind, imagined the cold aqua touching her fingertips, thought of the droplets suspending in air and focused so intensly on those images. When she opened her eyes, Hermione was amazed to see two droplets dancing around one another, in mid air. She was so impressed with herself that she lost her focus and allowed the water to fall back with the smallest of splashes.
Viktor was welcomed back with a triumph. The quidditch team had been lost without him and the atmosphere of Durmstrang just hadn't been right. The men were relieved when they saw Krum march past the English witch without a single glance. Hermione watched him and sighed, wondering what she could have done wrong to annoy him in such a way. Viktor did not find it easy to ignore her. He was glad that she was not in love with Aage, but that was as far as his regard for her went.
Aage had seemed a little put out after Hermione had uncovered his plan. He was not so much embarrassed as bitter that she had not fallen for his plot. However, Hermione was becoming less reliant on him and she was sure if he were to leave her, that she would be quite capable of coping on her own.
She had received a reply from Hagrid, but had not heard anything from either Harry or Ron. The one surprising letter was from Dumbledore.
Dear Hermione,
Chigvintsev has informed me of the circumstances at Durmstrang and I can empathise with you completely. I would not implore you to stay if I did not think you were capable of doing so. But I know that if you remain at the institute that you shall thrive and flower. Chigvintsev tells me that you are his finest student and that he shall do anything to ensure your comfort. Reach out to him, and I am sure that he shall help you enormously.
Best Wishes,
Albus Dumbledore.
Dumbledore believed in her and suddenly Hermione felt more positive. He must have heard about the boggart and the patronus and he did not judge her negatively. Deep down, she knew that he was right, that the strict, regimented nature of Durmstrang would suit her well if she allowed it. After she received his letter, Hermione held her head a little higher and focused on her own education. Within a few days, the lack of attention from Viktor Krum and the disdain from the other men did not bother her so much.
Her lesson with Chigvintsev focused on rain that week. Her diary entries had become shorter as her days became less eventful and Chigvintsev was glad to hear so. Hermione was becoming more skilled in her water manipulation and he was incredibly impressed with her progress.
Before she could count the days, it was saturday and quidditch was back on. It did not surprise Hermione so much that Viktor had not asked her to watch, for he hadn't spoken with her since he had returned. However, it was raining and she wished to try something she had never attempted before.
Viktor hated training in the rain, it made finding the snitch so much more difficult. However, it had been a while since he had played, so he was grateful to be back on his broom.
Hermione watched as they took to the sky, from a room that looked out on the pitch. She closed her eyes and felt the rain on her face, felt the water droplets drying on her skin, saw the rain cease to fall onto the players and slowly, the rain became lighter and light on the pitch, until it stopped all together.
The players all exchanged looks as the rain stopped, seeing the river dance with droplets. However, they were grateful for the dry air and continued playing. He knew it was her, he was unsure how or why she did it, but he knew that Hermione had stopped the rain for that short amount of time.
Neville walked past her and saw her sat by the window. His eyes became wide as he saw the dry pitch surrounded by torrential rain. When he came to see Hermione, she was strained and in visible pain. So much so that Neville ran over to her and pulled her from the trance from which she had set herself under.
"Hermione! Hermione!" He shook her, watching her eyes fly open and hearing the moaning of the men playing quidditch. Hermione looked out onto the pitch and chuckled, placing a hand over her mouth. She then turned her attention to Neville.
"Neville, what are you doing here?" She asked, wondering why he cared about stopping her.
"Listen, Hermione. I'm sorry, for well you know. I've been a jerk and been selfish and I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?" His words rambled together and Hermione chuckled, patting the seat next to her.
"There is nothing to forgive. It is each for their own here." She smiled as he sat beside her.
"Hermione, how did you do that?" He asked slowly, watching the men now get drenched as they practiced.
"I'm training. It has brought me a great amount of joy in my solitude." She sent him a pained smile.
"I don't quite understand what happened." He admitted, looking down at his hands.
"The war left some scars that you can not see and they scared people, as they should, I suppose." Hermione mused. Neville was one of the few that knew about Harry. He had summoned Negini, and had been there when she had done what she did.
"Did you see him?" He asked, wondering perhaps if she had seen Harry in the boggart.
"No. I saw myself." She replied slowly. Neville sighed, unsure of what to say. He placed his hand over her's.
"You're not a monster, Hermione. No matter what they all say. You saved the world!" He smiled up at her and Hermione nodded, placing her hand over his.
"Thank you, Neville."
Viktor saw them, the one who could not fly holding her hand. He was unsure why it bothered him, but it seemed that they were sharing an intimate moment and Viktor felt his teeth grind together. That boy was in there, warm and dry with her and he was out in the cold and rain, attempting to not think about her, but failing miserably.
Neville and Hermione sat together, along with Seamus, at lunch and chuckled watching the quidditch team dry themselves off. Luna looked over curiously and waved at the bunch, then got back to her friends. Viktor sighed looking over at the English students. He wondered how she felt, whether she missed his companionship, whether she missed him. He then shook his head and attempted to get back to his meal.
Hermione didn't want to think about him, but she couldn't help it. She wondered if perhaps she had done something wrong, or maybe he had simply realised that she was bad news. Whatever it was, Hermione felt as if her only allies were the people that she had travelled with.
Neville had botany club after lunch and Seamus had to tend to the owls, so once again, Hermione was left alone. This was no longer such a problem, as she was quite used to her own company. However, she was uncomfortable, the problem that was Viktor Krum spinning around in her mind. So, she went where she had always gone when she had a problem: to the library.
Viktor couldn't concentrate on the work that he had set for himself in his room. He cursed at himself, thinking himself stronger than whatever he felt for the girl. He knew what he had to do, what he always did when he was confused or angry, he would practice his fighting. He picked up his pole from the corner of his room and stormed off to the training hall.
Hermione searched the international section but found nothing. Apparently boy problems were not as easily solved as academic problems. So, when she had exhausted the knowledge of her small portion of the library, she decided to walk, to stretch out her legs. The castle seemed silent, until she came across the hall that had always been empty the times that she had past it. It was now filled with the sounds of grunting men. She could not help herself and took a peak around the corner, trying her hardest not to be seen. The men were practicing some kind of martial arts. It was a kind of fighting that Hermione had never seen before. But the violent nature and anger that was being produced by it made her want to cry. She knew that there was no ill feelings between the men fighting, but the shouting and screaming conjured memories from the war. She could not help the quivering of her bottom lip, she could not help the tear that fell onto her cheek, she also could not turn away. There was an elegance and a flair to the fighting that she had never seen before. But soon, the tears fell more quickly and she had to place a hand over her mouth to stop from crying out. It was the eye contact that forced her away, he looked right into her eyes and she saw a kind of enquiry there that she could not answer. So, she fled, knowing that there was only one place that she could go.
He saw her, stood there, crying watching them. He wondered what had upset her so much, and then thought perhaps that it was seeing him. He could not bare the thought that anyone felt that way about him, so after his final spar, he went after her. Forget Serg, he was going to find out what was wrong. She was fast for a witch with a limp, and when he found her, she was just entering Chigvintsev's office. He knew he couldn't follow her, but he could wait for her. So he placed his translators on and waited outside of the Headmaster's office.
Chigvintsev stopped what he was doing when Hermione burst through the door, tears streaming down her face. She sat down and he gave her a moment to compose herself.
"Hermione, vhat is wrong?" He asked, wondering what could have got her into such a state.
"Oh no, I shouldn't have come here. I'm sorry, I'm wasting your time." She cried shaking her head and standing.
"Hermione. Sit down." He ordered her and she sniffled before sitting back down.
"Now tell me vhat is wrong." He ordered her softly. She wiped her nose with the sleeve of her jumper and closed her eyes, seeing two jade orbs staring back at her.
"I keep seeing it, seeing him." She admitted.
"Seeing vhat?" Chigvintsev asked, wanting her to explain herself.
"The death." Was her answer. He nodded, understanding as much as he could.
"Who do you see?" He asked, wondering which death was haunting her so much.
"H-Harry P-Potter." She stuttered, shuddering.
"I see." He replied simply.
"You do?" Hermione asked in great shock and Chigvintsev nodded his head softly.
"Dumbledore varned me that this might come up." He informed her and Hermione understood Dumbledore's motives.
"You are not a killer, Hermione. Harry Potter lives." He stated simply and it was as if Hermione had an epiphany. He had said it so simply, so bluntly that his reasoning made sense to her.
"Could I ask for something?" She asked, her voice still shaking.
"Vhat vould you like?" Chigvintsev sat back.
"I would like to see the Boggart again." Hermione announced. Chigvintsev silently congradulated her for her courage.
"On monday, in class, you shall see the Boggart again. Now, go, someone is vaiting for you." He winked, nodding his head to the door. Hermione looked confused, but left anyway, not wanting to bother Chigvintsev anymore.
Viktor had heard it all, but didn't really understand what had been said. Only half of the story had been said and he was left rather confused. However, when he saw Hermione, the confusion didn't matter so much.
"Viktor." She acknowledged him, and continued walking. Viktor walked after her, reaching her side.
"How are you?" He asked and she looked up at him, wondering why he suddenly cared.
"I am well. How are you?" She asked, feeling a strange emotion she had never felt churn in her stomach.
"I am troubled." He stated, and she looked up at him as if she were about to laugh.
"I am sorry." Was all that he said and she nodded to herself.
"I understand, I am a bit of a liability here." She shrugged her shoulders and he stopped, placed a hand on her arm and looked into her eyes.
"No. You made the rain stop." Was all that he said, before marching off. Hermione was left quite confused, yet she felt a strange kind of bemusement towards Viktor Krum. He was definitely a creature unlike all of the rest.
