A/N: And we're back to the main storyline where things go from 0 to 100 faster than the speed of light :D Just a quick warning before you go: this chapter contains some swearing- or more like a few extra F bombs I should say.


"You know she's helping him, right?"

Viktor knew what and whom Ivanna was referring to but still he asked in a bored tone: "Who?"

She rolled her eyes. "Harry Potter," she whispered. "He's receiving help from Hermione, and their other friend."

He glanced at the trio's empty place at the Gryffindor table. They had rushed through their breakfast and then out of the hall just twenty minutes ago. It didn't bother Viktor too much as he already knew that Hermione has been helping Potter all along. She hasn't told him herself of course, no doubt in fear of getting her friend in trouble, but he did catch them practicing the summoning charm the night before the first task and the rest of the pieces fell into place.

He didn't mind it at first, but then Potter's inadequacy got in the way of their meetings. Hermione's attention shifted entirely towards the task of keeping her friend alive and before he knew it Viktor started seeing less and less of Hermione. He was starting to lose his patience with the boy. He really tried not to, reminding himself time and time again that the boy is terribly young and likely still afraid, and that he was more or less forced to participate, but he just couldn't help himself. Every free hour of the week following Valentine's was spent with Hermione and those moments were perhaps the closest he'd ever get to heaven, but then she was abruptly whisked away from him because Potter remembered that he had 'incomplete assignments' he needed help with.

The few times he managed to get a hold of her he noticed that Hermione still occasionally shies from his touch and from his kisses, and he understood and gave her space when needed as she was relatively new to this kind of intimacy, but most of time he doesn't feel the need to hold back. He doesn't have to be as guarded with his words and with his actions anymore and he absolutely loves every bit of it, but he still makes sure to maintain some boundaries in fear of spoiling the progress they made. They were getting closer and he just couldn't get enough of her. It's only been a few days since they last spoke to each other and he's already restless with longing. He doesn't even want to think about leaving her and going back to Bulgaria after the tournament.

"And I am receiving help from Karkaroff and Fleur from Maxime. I'm pretty sure Cedric is the only champion not receiving any kind of help," he said. He smiled wryly. "Makes him more worthy of the title than all three of us combined, doesn't it?"

She frowned, dissatisfied with his answer.

"Isn't she your girlfriend?" demanded Markus, surprisingly upset. "Shouldn't she be helping you rather than that Potter boy?"

"Of course she shouldn't be helping him. Viktor is competing against her school," said Poliakoff in Hermione's defence. "And Harry Potter was her friend before she got involved with Viktor, whom she's only starting to get properly acquainted with. Her loyalties will obviously lie with her long-time friend first."

"And I don't need anybody's help," added Viktor, ignoring the small nagging voice at the back of his head that wasn't too happy with what Poliakoff said about Hermione's loyalties. "I solved the riddle of the second task weeks ago."

"She's playing you for a fool!" hissed Markus.

Viktor sighed. He set his mug down. "Did Karkaroff set you up to this?"

"Any idiot with eyes can tell, Krum."

"I agree," said Ivanna next to him, surprising all three men. "I don't think she's doing it intentionally but the truth is you haven't exactly been yourself lately."

He glared at her. Who was she to say what he's normally like on regular days? She hardly knows him herself.

She sighed tiredly when she caught his glare. "Just don't lose your head, ok? You're still our champion and we're all counting on you."

"I see that your faith in me is as strong as ever," he said sarcastically.

She looked him over, her expression scornful. "Can you blame me?"

He chose to ignore that. "Everything's under control. The Cup is as good as ours."

"I'll hold you to it."

He snorted. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

Poliakoff and Markus looked at each other then back at Viktor and Ivanna facing them, the first now silently enjoying his coffee while the latter busied herself with the local newspaper.

"Who would've known that I'd live to see you two go through an entire meal without hexing each other," said Poliakoff, shaking his head.

"Man, I really don't like this school," said Markus, sulking into his untouched breakfast. "Ever since we got here everyone started acting weird."

"So I take it that Gertrude is still not talking to you?" asked Ivanna without looking up from her paper.

Markus glared at her, his ears turning red either from embarrassment or anger. "Shut up, Morozova. You too, Krum."

"I didn't say anything."

"What did I just fucking say about talking?"

Viktor waited a moment, allowing his opponent to loosen up and drop his guard a little. "You know I hear that chocolates and a long, heartfelt apology usually does the trick."

"How badly do you want your head split open?"

"I'm only trying to help, Markus, though personally I'd rather you receive another Howler instead. I deeply regret missing the first."

Viktor barely managed to dodge the bread roll tossed at him. He suspects that he would've been dodging knives instead had Karkaroff not been watching them from the staff's table.


Viktor wasn't as prepared as he thought. Everything had gone wrong.

The day started out well enough for him to miss all the signs. He slept well and had his morning jog that he managed to enjoy despite the chilly weather. The trio were missing from the breakfast table but Viktor assumed that they were still helping Potter with last minute preparations. After all, Hermione had promised to meet him by the ship before the second task. He had no reason to worry so he didn't, not when he found that the S.P.E.W badge she gave him was exactly where he left it nor when he found her missing from their designated meeting spot, for he once again assumed that Potter was holding her back.

Harry Potter finally arrived ten minutes before the task was set to begin, much to Karkaroff and Maxime's evident displeasure. He took his place next to Viktor, panting and wheezing and looking horribly out of place in his school robes. He obviously overslept and had to make a decision between changing into his swimming trunks or making it on time for the tournament. Viktor thought it odd that he should be late in the first place, considering that he was with Hermione who was punctual enough to keep her mind on the clock as well as the task at hand. He scanned the crowd for the familiar bushy head and brown eyes but found her missing amidst the sea of red and gold. He couldn't spot her between Ron's siblings or their associates either.

He frowned, turning back towards the lake. He saw Potter grasping his sides from the corner of his eyes, seemingly unaware or unconcerned of his friends' absence.

Ivanna coughed in the distance behind him where his peers stood, signaling for his attention. He looked over his shoulders at her. What? He wanted to ask. She had a cautionary, almost worried look on her face. She nodded at the lake then brought her index finger to the side of her head and tapped twice.

He rolled his eyes. Right. Head's in the game.

Except it wasn't. Something didn't feel right. He looked at the crowd again. Hermione and Ron were still missing.

"…The champions have precisely one hour to retrieve what was taken from them," Ludo Bagman's voice droned over his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. "Something precious, of irreplaceable value, something that they will miss most…"

He smirked. He wondered what this 'irreplaceable, valuable' thing the judges chose for him to retrieve, if not his broom or his badge, or rather who they–

He felt like he had just been hit with a sledgehammer. He wished he were, for apparently his skull was worth smashing after all. How could he have not considered a hostage-like situation?

Once again he was afraid but this time it was a different kind of fear, one he's never felt for years and hoped that he never would for a long time. He spun towards the crowd again, searching frantically for the third time but finding nothing but the grim faces of Hermione's friends huddled together.

Bagman blew his whistle. He pointed his wand at his head, his brain suddenly too congested to think clearly or to focus on anything besides gills and sight. He leaped into the glossy surface of the lake without a second thought to the judges, the other champions, or to the crowd behind him.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, STUPID, STUPID, STUPID!

He could breathe and he could see clearly, but he botched the teeth and he forgot the fins he worked so hard to perfect. They would've made for a much smoother, faster swim, but he decided to manage without them. He didn't have time to experiment with nonverbal spells. Hermione was held hostage somewhere deep by a tribe of mermaids who might or might not put up a fight, or worse yet, hurt her should he unintentionally offend them.

He swam for what felt like hours, looking into every cave and swimming so deep he could barely make out the light streaming from the sun beyond the surface. He caught movements within the weed beds and swiftly dove into one, only to be greeted by a startled Grindylow that hissed at him before scurrying off.

Who would've thought that those pesky Grindylows are afraid of sharks…

Focus!

He charged out of the weeds and bumped straight into Fleur who was about to dive in herself, no doubt to investigate the movements within the same way he did, except she saw his shark head before the rest of his body and went into a full blown panic. She screamed into the bubble she conjured around her face and kicked the water to propel herself backwards, landing several hard blows to his chest that shoved him back into the sea of weeds below him.

What the fuck, Fleur! He tried to curse, shielding his throbbing chest. It's me, you idiot! Bubbles floated over his eyes. Right. Shark.

Several Grindylows sprung from their hiding places at once and latched onto Fleur's legs. She screamed and reached for her wand but one of the water demons bit hard on the hand holding it, making her instantly drop it. Viktor rushed towards her thinking that he'd scare the creatures away, but they only tightened their hold on their prey and dragged her towards the weed bed.

Now what? He thought with a frustrated growl, coming to a halt in hopes of getting them to pause as well. They continued dragging her deeper, delighted and encouraged by her screams and struggles.

He contemplated leaving. He wasn't supposed to be looking out for her, anyway. So what if it was technically his fault she got into this mess? So what if she might get seriously injured? She knew what she was getting herself into when she put her name in the Goblet, as he did when his turn came. He certainly didn't sign up for the task of saving his damsel-in-distress of a rival, and yet he couldn't bring himself to leave. Now what? He thought again.

Cedric swam into the scene. He grabbed both of Fleur's outstretched hands and pulled with all his might. Viktor charged towards them without a second thought, causing all the Grindylows to dislodge themselves from Fleur's flesh and dive back into their hiding place. Cedric summoned Fleur's wand when he was sure that they were high enough and out of reach. Viktor caught the salty, metallic stench of blood on his way towards them.

"You!" He heard the muffled screech from Fleur's bubble and saw her once fearful blue eyes blazing with fury as she pointed an accusing, delicate finger at him. "You wanted to get me killed!"

"Not now," came Cedric's own muffled voice from behind his bubble, swimming between the two champions. "Hostages are on the other side of the lake. They've got your sister, Fleur."

Fleur ceased her verbal assault on Viktor to look up fearfully at Cedric. "Gabrielle? They have Gabrielle?! She can't swim!"

"They've also got Ron and Hermione," he added, looking at Viktor, his expression darkening, "and… and Cho. We've got to hurry."

Viktor sped towards the opposite direction. His muscles ached from the pressure he was putting on them but he forced himself onwards, cursing himself on the side for not taking a moment to work on those fins. They would've come in handy right about now.

He found the village easily enough. The merpeople, it seemed, were also afraid of sharks. They hissed and dashed away from him as quickly and fearfully as the Grindylows did. He reached the hostages just as Cedric wrapped his arms around Cho and pulled her with him towards the surface. A cluster of mermaids were harassing Potter but they left at the sight of Viktor approaching. He ignored the boy and the other hostages and went straight for Hermione. Her skin had taken on a ghostly green hue and her expression as still as those of the drowned. He did the first thing he could think of. He grabbed the rope in both hands and started gnawing on it but the it remained intact, for his shark teeth were sharp but also jaggedly aligned and poorly transfigured. He felt a sharp jab on his shoulder. He turned with a growl, thinking it was a mermaid trying to stop him, but instead he was met with a startled Potter pushing a sharp rock at him. He grabbed it from his hands and cut the rope anchoring Hermione with one clean swipe.

They broke through the surface to the roaring cheers of the crowd. Viktor found it difficult to breathe or to make out the blurry forms beyond the riverbank, then he remembered his transformation. He quickly transformed himself back, relieved with the knowledge that he hadn't lost his wand amidst all the madness below. Hermione had woken from her coma at some point and was thrashing and coughing up water when his vision finally cleared. He quickly led her towards the docks where the school's mediwitch fussed over Cedric, Cho, and a horribly scratched, hysterical Fleur.

The mediwitch started fussing over them the instant they were removed from the water, throwing thick towels over their shoulders and shoving warming potions in their hands. Viktor took one look at Hermione's pale skin, chattering teeth, and shivering form and he swiftly pulled his own towel from his shoulders and draped it on top of hers.

"I don't need it," he urged when she started protesting and pushing the towel back at him.

She allowed him to wrap both towels around her. They were out of the water and she had already downed her potion but she still couldn't stop shivering and he was getting sick with worry. He didn't know how or when his arms wandered around her small frame, but she was pressed against his bare chest and it felt like he was holding a block of ice rather than a living, breathing human being. He quickly pushed his potion at her.

"N-n-n-no…" she barely managed to say through bluish, trembling lips. She turned her head away.

"Please," he whispered against her ear, tipping the tiny flask towards her lips. "I swear, Herm-own-ninny, I am fine."

Her weak protests died out. She drank his potion. He relaxed when he saw some colour return to her skin, but not enough to let her go. He never, ever wants to let her go.

"Viktor," she said, her voice low and hoarse. She cleared her throat. He leaned back a little to look at her. She blushed and looked away. "Um, E-English… p-please?"

He chuckled, breathless still from the strain he had put his body through. He hadn't realised that he's been mumbling in Bulgarian in her hair. It probably sounded like utter nonsense to her, but for him it was the contents of his heart and soul laid bare. He was praising whatever god kept her safe. He was admitting his fear of losing her, telling her without restraint how scared and worried he's been the entire time despite knowing in his heart that the judges wouldn't be so rash as to put an innocent in harm's way. He also begged her to never leave his side. He told her how he was willing to give up his education, his career, and his inheritance for her, everything and anything that could potentially pull them apart.

He pressed his lips to her wet curls. "I was saying that you are very special to me, Herm-own-ninny. I have never felt this way about any other girl."

She looked up at him, her eyes wide.

He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers. "Come… come see me, in Bulgaria. This summer, if… if you are not busy. I would like you to visit me."

"Oh, Viktor, I–"

She stopped, suddenly becoming stiff in his arms. The whispers around them rose. There were too many for him to properly make out, but he recognised his name and hers and the Yule Ball and Potter's for some reason. He heard a shutter and then a flash. His eyes snapped open. He looked up and caught a boy in the crowd holding a camera to his grinning face, pointing the offending thing towards their general direction and snapping more pictures.

Harry Potter emerged from the waters with Ron and Gabrielle. Fleur emitted a cry of relief then rushed to pull Gabrielle out of the water and into her arms, speaking rapidly in French and showering her with kisses. It took both Madam Maxime and the mediwitch to pry the younger Delacour free. Hermione quickly pushed away from Viktor when she spotted Harry coming towards them, dripping wet and wrapped tightly in his own towel.

"Well done, Harry!" she cried joyfully, throwing her arms around his neck. "You did it, you figured it out all by yourself!"

Potter looked pleased. "Well… yea, that's right!" he said, unnecessarily loud, as if he wanted someone to hear it.

Viktor's fingers curled into his palms, unable to resist the hot white rage taking over his senses. Was that meant for him?

Hermione shook her head, then hugged Potter again.

Viktor swallowed with some difficulty. "You have a water beetle in your hair, Herm-own-ninny," he said lamely, trying to draw her attention back onto himself.

She brushed at her hair impatiently and missed the beetle. Viktor inched closer to untangle the small, glittering insect. She slapped his hand away just as he managed to get a hold of it, sending the creature flying into the air and away from them. Viktor looked at her, stunned, but she didn't seem to realise what she did as she was still too busy gushing over Potter's success.

He came in last! He wanted to scream. I was part-shark, for fuck's sake!

Fleur came down towards them, still covered in cuts. She blabbered her thanks to Potter and Weasley, then proceeded to shower them with kisses that had the blood flowing back to their cheeks faster than any warming potion. Viktor saw Hermione turn away from them, looking absolutely furious.

Viktor thought that things couldn't possibly get any worse from that point, but then the scores were announced. He came in third place, after Potter, for some moral fibre merit that earned the boy enough points to propel him towards first place to be tied with Cedric. Viktor clapped with the others at the announcement, but he couldn't hide his displeasure. He wanted to shout at the top of his lungs and to even throw a tantrum, however unruly and childish it seemed, but he felt too small and too humiliated to do anything. What he wanted even more was for the Earth below him to open up and swallow him whole.

The urge to curse Potter rose to dangerous levels when Hermione cheered loudly and threw herself at him again. Everything he just did, everything he just said, did it mean absolutely nothing to her? Did she not consider for one moment how difficult it has been him to completely drop his guard for her? Did she not understand how much she meant to him, how much he was willing to risk for her, and how he's never once considered doing anything at all for all the models and actresses and heiresses that threw themselves at his feet? What had Potter ever done for her, other than being inconsiderate and needy and utterly useless? She might as well have participated in the tournament herself.

The crowd dispersed at Bagman's signal. Hermione trailed after her friends without a glance towards Viktor, merrily praising and chattering besides Potter. Viktor stared after her, stunned and hopeless. Like many young men his age he has been rejected by women before, and sometimes it did hurt his ego, but never once did it sting this bad.


Markus was waiting for him by the ship. Viktor squared his shoulders and braced himself for all kinds of insults but Markus surprised him by hurling a fist into his stomach instead, knocking the wind out of him and sending him to his knees. Viktor's hands sank into the mud as he coughed and wheezed by Markus's boots.

"I fucking told you," Markus growled, his voice dripping with rage, "I told you they were playing you for a fool but you didn't listen. Look at you now. Look at all of us. You've just made us the laughing stock of all of Europe, Krum. The whole world was watching. I bet they'll have lots of things to say about this in the papers tomorrow, and as sick as this might sound I'm actually really looking forward to it."

"I didn't–" he tried to defend himself, only to be taken halfway by a violent coughing fit.

Markus kicked him in the same spot, sending him sprawling into the mud. "Don't you fucking say another word, Krum. I don't care about your precious Snitches or whose son you are. I'll knock your teeth out if I hear another word from you. We were all counting on you and you fucked us over, and I'll be damned if I don't make sure you regret it for the rest of the year."

He spat on him then turned around and marched towards the ship. Viktor remained still on the mud, unable to move and hardly able to draw breath from the pain. His insides felt like they were going to explode. He was certain that he'd get a nasty bruise in the morning. There are simple, easily brewed potions he could use to take care of it, of course, but something told him to leave it. Something told him that he deserved it and more. He let his school down, and his family and entire country for that matter, and he got absolutely nothing out of it, not the girl of his dreams to ease the pain of his shattered pride nor a friendly hand to help him back on his feet.

A sturdy yet feminine pair of boots came into view. He jerked up, wincing from the sharp pain that shot through him from the spot Markus assaulted. He closed his eyes and gripped his sides. He took a slow, deep breath before straightening himself to fully face a very livid Ivanna standing before him with her arms crossed over her chest.

"You can save your breath," he rasped, then cleared his throat. "I just spoke with Markus."

"What the fuck was that?" she snapped, ignoring his request. "What did I tell you about keeping your head in the game? You said everything was under control and now you're in third place. Care to explain yourself?"

"No."

"By which you mean…?"

"Exactly what the word is supposed to mean. I don't owe you an explanation."

"You owe me an explanation and so much more," she said through gritted teeth, her nails digging into her biceps. "Do you even realise what your actions back there cost us?"

"It's not too late. I still have the third task, if I could just–"

She laughed mirthlessly. "Don't you get it? It's not about the fucking tournament anymore. You were supposed to represent Durmstrang, Viktor, one of the most respected wizarding schools in all of Europe, but what do you do instead? You drag its great name through the mud with that pathetic little display of yours."

"What do you want me to do?" he snapped. "She could've gotten hurt, Ivanna. She shouldn't have been there. She didn't put her name in the Goblet, I did. I signed up for this. I should be the one fighting for my life, not her."

"Oh, spare me already! You and I both know that she wasn't in any real danger. You just wanted to be her knight in shining armour but got upstaged by a fourteen-year-old boy that can't seem to dress himself or to get a hold of a decent hairbrush. Very classy, indeed."

"You don't know what you're talking about–"

"You're right, I don't, and it's all wrong because it should've been me out there. You've done nothing so far but prove yourself inadequate and unfit to compete. Now I know that you and Karkaroff did something to that Goblet. I don't know if it's got anything to do with the Potter boy getting involved but mark my words, Viktor, I will reveal you for the pathetic coward you really are."

"You wouldn't last a minute in there," he hissed back at her, making her freeze in her spot. "Face it. The Goblet chose me, not you. You can talk big all you want, Ivanna, but the sooner you accept the truth the easier it will be for you in the long run."

She gave him one of her icy smiles. "You first."

"What?"

"Admit it. Accept the truth, as you put it. You're not worth shit compared to Potter. And Hermione is a smart girl. I'm surprised it took her this long to figure it out."

Panic seized him. He pushed it down as hard as he can, but somehow he knew that Ivanna saw it. Still, he asked: "Figure out what?"

She studied him, then sighed and shook her head in disappointment. "There. That's all it took to bring you down."

"How the fuck am I supposed to know that they award extra points for some moral fibre bullshit?" he snarled, more irritated at her poking the chink in his armour rather than the judges' verdict. "I would've been second had Potter–"

"Second place, Viktor? Please tell me how that's supposed to be better." She scoffed. "Some champion you turned out to be! But just you wait. I'm far from finished with you or Karkaroff."

She stormed off before he could say anything, leaving him standing alone by the riverbank covered entirely in mud and trembling with anger. Too much had happened already. His mind was confused and crowded enough as it is. The urge to scream into the heavens was overbearing. He still doesn't know how he managed to refrain from doing so in that state of mind.

By the time the lunch hour arrived Viktor sat in his usual spot and ignored the fact that Ivanna, Poliakoff, Markus, and most of his peers had taken their places at the farthest end of the table, leaving him stranded in the middle of overhyped Slytherins. Karkaroff was surprisingly cheerful despite the shadow under his eyes, but Viktor decided not to ponder on it. He just couldn't afford to lose his sanity on top of everything else he lost that day.