Handprint On My Heart

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. All recognisable characters, content, or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

Note: This one features a fem!Harry born in 77.

Drifting

Pairing: Violette (fem!Harry)/Viktor Krum

Durmstrang Institute is all Violette Potter expects of it, and then some. It's demanding, it's gruelling, and the competition between students is utterly cutthroat, and she is having the time of her life. She is in classrooms with others whom, like her, have always been the smartest, most talented students in the room, and it is a rush to keep up with them, to strive to outshine them, to be pushed to be more, to be better, to be the very best.

Other students don't feel the same. Twelve of them transfer out by Samhain. Among them, the only other student originally from Britain. She's a lifelong friend of Violette's, and it's a wrench to see her go.

"I'm sorry, Lettie," Ursa Black says. She's crying. "This isn't what I want. I'm not a fighter like you."

"It's all right," Violette answers. She understands. "Where will you go?"

Ursa makes an attempt to compose herself. "There's a place open for me at Beauxbatons. I start on Monday. I'll be taking the advanced classes, so if I play my cards right, I should be finished by the end of next year."

"I'll miss you," Violette says, "You'll have to write me."

"Of course I will, and there's always Yule, too. It's not that far away now."

"Seems like it."

In some respects, Violette feels closer to Ursa than she does with her own siblings. They'd both attended lower secondary school in the Netherlands from the age of 10, far from their families and with only each other to rely on. It'll be strange not to have Ursa at her side, but if she's honest with herself, Violette can't say she's particularly surprised by her friend's choice. Ursa's a healer at heart, and no doubt, Durmstrang Institute's increased emphasis on Martial Arts is a strain on her soul.

It was different in the Netherlands, when the lower secondary students had the opportunity to study a variety of fields, but there's a reason the upper secondary school - the one everyone else pictures when they think of Durmstrang - is notoriously difficult to get accepted into.

"It'll fly by, I hope," Ursa chuckles wetly. They share a tight, fierce hug. "Kick arse, Lettie."

"Likewise, Black," Violette answers.

Ursa steps away from Violette, shoulders the strap of her satchel, and then activates the portkey clasped in her other hand. She disappears a moment later, and Violette lingers, bereft.

-!- -#-

Durmstrang culture doesn't particularly inspire friendship. Not in the early years, anyway. She's told it will change in her last two years, when students are able to pursue their own scholastic and/or martial interests, when they've adapted to the Norwegian culture that dictates Rossøya, but alas, that's still two years away. In the mean time, Violette resigns herself to a lonely couple of years.

As it is wont to do, time passes. Violette focuses on her education, thriving under the fast-paced tutelage of her teachers. Her best subjects are Charms, Transfiguration, and Ancient Runes, but she's reasonably competent in Potions and Herbology, which is all she can really ask for where they're concerned. She improves as a duelist, as a martial artist, as a quidditch player, as well, and she is content. It is such that before she knows it, she is 15 years old, has just sat Durmstrang's equivalent of the Hogwarts NEWT exams, and she is at a loss. She has decisions to make now, questions about what she intends to do next, and her parents expect to hear what she's decided as soon as she returns home.

Of course, the only issue with that is the fact Violette hasn't made any plans beyond her exams. Her teachers have insinuated that there are apprenticeships waiting for her, if she wants them, but there is also the prospect of heading straight into employment with Gringott's, and obtaining her masteries 'on the job', as it were. There's also a vacancy in her father's workshop, if she wants it, learning the art of enchanting from him, among other things. Moreover, there are a variety of quidditch teams chomping at the bit to have her sign on with them, and as such, Violette is at a loss.

Perhaps predictably, she finds herself hovering over the quidditch pitch, stretched out along her Nimbus 2000, staring at the field below. It's her happy place, where she goes to think, or to clear her head, or simply to relax after a tough day. It's a trait she's inherited from her father, and most of a continent away, the fact gives her comfort.

It is, also, where Viktor Krum encounters her. He's something of a rival, a phenomenal seeker, and duelist, and student. Despite this, however, they've never said a word to each other. He sticks to himself mostly, much the same as VIolette in that regard, and neither of them have felt inclined to disrupt the status quo.

Until now, that is. Perhaps it's because, with the end of their education, a lot of them are heading their separate ways, to jobs and betrothals and familial expectations, and beneath all those scowls, Viktor Krum is a sentimental old sap. Perhaps it's because she's disrupting his airspace, or perhaps it's something else entirely.

Either way, Krum floats up and drifts lazily around her, a mild frown on his face. "Are you well?"

Violette almost falls off her broom, surprised by the enquiry. It's in Norwegian, predictably, but what is so astounding is the fact that they're the words scrawled out on her wrist in stark black cursive.

Oddly enough, and despite the two years she's already lived on Rossøya, it's the firs time she's been asked.

As she sits up on her broom, Violette thinks, briefly, of lying, of answering with a polite 'I'm well, thank you, and yourself?' but she changes her mind. If Krum is her soulmate, than he can probably take the truth. If not, than she'll probably never have reason to talk to him again.

"I've had better days, to be honest."

Krum jolts, his broom jerks, and it takes him a minute to right himself. He's surprised, as much as VIolette herself, and it leaves him speechless.

She smiles somewhat sheepishly, drifts over to him, and queries, "Are you all right?"

He shakes himself, nods briefly, and assures, "I am well. Just surprised. I did not expect that."

Her smile is rueful. "Yeah, you and me both."

"I apologise," Viktor hesitates briefly, "You said you have had better days. What is wrong?"

And despite herself, Violette talks, and talks, and talks. It's cathartic, a load off her chest she had not realised she was carrying, and all the while, they loop around each other, lazy and slow and careless. As they do, Viktor listens to her intently, and he doesn't speak until she is done.

"You must do what makes you happy."

When she asks, Viktor outlines his plan to pursue a Quidditch career while he works on a duel apprenticeship in Charms and Transfiguration. And that, the knowledge that he'll be at Durmstrang for the next two years (at least), makes her decision a whole lot easier.

She's not absolutely certain yet, but the thought of joining him - her soulmate - back at Durmstrang in the autumn? It's a tempting one.

Author's Note: This is set in an AU world I've built for a fic I haven't written, which is why VIolette attends school in the Netherlands and finishes her standard education at the end of her canon fifth year…

Anyway, a couple of notes: Rossøya is an island in the Arctic Ocean, the northern most part of the Kingdom of Norway. Also, all Italics are spoken Norwegian.

Thanks for reading. Seriously, the interest in these little ficlets is surreal. Until next time -t.