Viktor only left Harry once he got the younger boy to smile, albeit hesitantly, for more than a minute. After a few awkward walls of silence that had felt insurmountable, Viktor remembered how big a Quidditch fan Potter was and so he pushed himself into talking about his developing career and hopes for the future. Despite his intentions, the words didn't come easy. Regardless of the sheer number of times he had done the same with the press or fans, Viktor felt uncomfortable talking about himself - and inadvertently, his fame - with people he knew.

While he had been explaining some of the more complex drills he had been shown since joining Vstra, Viktor realised that he never felt self-conscious when discussing the same things with Hermione, and although she was no fan of Quidditch herself, she never made him feel like he was boring her. 'If it's important to you, it's important to me' - she had used that phrase when he had been telling her about the practice game, and it had stuck in his head, mainly because he felt the same way.

Over time, Harry's curiosity overtook his anger long enough for him to ask questions, albeit reluctantly, and Viktor was glad of it. As much as he didn't like the way Harry was treating Hermione, he understood it. It had taken him three weeks at home, and being summoned into his father's study every night to find some peace with what had happened in that maze. Guilt and regret had threatened to consume him, and Viktor had relied on the fact that his father would neither let him drown, or let him shut out those that had been trying to help. Viktor couldn't imagine what he might have felt like if he had never had the option of speaking to those closest to him.

Viktor closed the bedroom door behind him, satisfied that he had done the best he could. He was delighted to spot Hermione at the end of the shabby hall, apparently trying very hard to look like she wasn't waiting. It saved Viktor the job of hunting down in the unfamiliar house. After seeing Weasley chase after her, he'd had a horrible feeling that he would find her slumped on a stairwell, just like after the Yule Ball. Instead, Hermione looked relieved, and unless he was very much mistaken, she hadn't been crying recently.

"Thank you," she said softly as he approached, and tilted her head towards the door he had just left.

Viktor shrugged. "Not sure how much good I did."

"I'm sure you helped more than you know. And even if nothing changes, it doesn't matter," she replied with a shrug of her own. "You tried. Harry will appreciate that, and so do I."

Viktor nodded. "How was talk with Weasley?"

Comfortingly, Hermione rolled her eyes and Viktor was satisfied, for now. Her exasperation he could cope with, but not her distress.

"Let's talk about that later," she dismissed with a wave of her hand. "We've had enough angst for one day. How about I show you the rest of the place?"

Viktor eyed the decaying hallway and wondered what exactly was in store for him. "Is it all…?"

"As bad as it looks?" Hermione replied with a muted grin. "Yes!" Viktor was unsure how to respond, and in the quiet, Hermione babbled. "Could you maybe not mention how bad it is to your mum? I don't like the idea of Sofiya knowing you were subjecting you to this," she said as she gestured to a panel of mouldy, peeling wallpaper and bit her lip.

Viktor smiled. "Do not worry, Hermione. I will never mention it, and remember, I invited myself."

"Thank you for being here," Hermione replied earnestly and threaded her fingers with his. Viktor felt a warmth spread from the connection of their hands up his arm.

"Thank you for trusting me. I know how important this - these people - are to you. They must be for you to suffer this," he said as he eyed a light fitting above that was in danger of shattering the moment someone so much as breathed near it.

Hermione giggled as she pulled on his hand to guide him down the corridor. "Now, Viktor, I never took you for a snob."

Viktor bristled at the label but as he was still making sure he stood far out of touching distance from any piece of wallpaper or upholstery he knew it wasn't a completely outlandish accusation. "I am not. I am very laid back - because of my career I have stayed in some very basic places, but at least they had benefit of being clean."

Hermione didn't answer verbally; however, she did tilt her head to acknowledge his point as she led him down two sets of stairs and into the family library. Though far from as grand as Viktor could tell it would have been in its heyday, the room was at least habitable. Viktor had seen enough to know that even when clean the house would not have been to his tastes, he would never understand why so many of his peers insisted on such gothic architecture, it was like putting a sign in your front garden to remind the Ministry to raid you as often as possible. Gargoyles and turrets = illegal activity occurs within. House elf heads mounted on the wall = blood has been spilt in our parlour.

Hermione showed him around some of the stacks, and they talked about who was in the house currently, and who was likely to arrive in the next few days. Viktor understood that he would meet most of the other adults at dinner.

"Which one is your room?" he asked her as they walked down a recently cleaned stack of Transfiguration volumes. "If I need to find you."

"In case of an emergency?" Hermione asked with a teasing tone, and Viktor took a step closer, returning her natural smile.

"Of course, what other reason would I have?"

Hermione looked down at the muted carpet as she blushed and Viktor linked his fingers around her delicate wrist to lead her to a crushed velvet sofa that had seen better days. "So, this is where you have been?"

Hermione nodded. "It's not much, and it's certainly not home, but it's where I'm needed now."

"It is not what I pictured when I was reading your letters."

Hermione sighed. "I wish I could show you some of my world, my real world. You showed me so many wonderful things, and I would love to be able to return the favour."

Hermione's head fell back against the sofa, and Viktor delicately trailed his fingers along her jaw. "We will have our chance, Hermione."

"I hope so," she softly replied, and Viktor felt himself relax, he then realised just how quiet her words had been and how he'd had no difficulty hearing them.

"It is quiet," he observed as he played with the ends of her voluminous hair.

Hermione's tilted to face him. "It is," she replied with evident confusion.

"I imagine this is rare," Viktor said as he shuffled closer to her, "in a house with so many, to get such a peaceful moment?"

"It is," Hermione breathed out as Viktor leant forward and brushed his lips against hers. Steadily he allowed his attentions to increase until he pulled away to let them breathe. As he drew back, he affected a contemplative look and pinched his brow.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked as she pressed her palm against his cheek with concern.

Viktor looked thoughtful and tried to hide the gleam from his eyes. "I am sure I can taste dust."

Hermione shoved him as he had planned. "You are, horrid."

"I should show you I am sorry?"

Hermione nodded, even as her cheeks warmed. Her blush was not as evident as she was now sunkissed from all of her summer exploring, but Viktor was close enough both to see and to enjoy it. He kissed her in apology until their grim surroundings were the furthest thing from either of their minds.


Dinner was a predictably tense affair. Hermione hadn't seen Mrs Weasley all day, and though she had planned to avoid the matriarch, their lack of interaction was not by design. When Hermione had finally braved asking where Mrs Weasley was, she was informed that she had temporarily returned to the Burrow for some supplies. And yet, despite not having faced Molly, Hermione day's had been littered with contentious encounters. After leaving Harry to strew in his juices she had been chased down by Ron, and his demeanour had been far from friendly.

-/-/-

After making a hasty retreat from the boy's room, Hermione decided to head to the kitchen and make a start on some lunch, and then go and find Viktor. Unfortunately, her plan was derailed when she heard quick steps behind her. Hermione didn't need to turn to know who it was; Harry would hardly have been in a rush to continue their conversation, and she was sure she had never seen Sirius rush before, even when a werewolf was chasing him.

"Ron, I really don't want to do this now," she snapped and walked through into the cool kitchen, managing to stop herself from slamming the door in his face.

"Well, I really didn't want you to bring Viktor here, but you have, so it has to be now," Ron snapped in return as he brushed passed her and blocked her path.

Hermione's frustrated resentment boiled inside of her. She had spent years trying to understand what it was about Ron that got her so angry so quickly, but maybe she would never know; whatever it was affected him in the same way.

Hermione eased her way past him and opened up the cooling cabinet, she could see his nostrils flaring as he took a deep breath, but she was determined to stand her ground. Hermione imagined Ron was trying to hold on to his temper, though she knew his resolve wouldn't last long. He just couldn't help himself.

They had always been like this, ever since they had first met. As little as a year previous, Hermione had deluded herself into thinking that their dynamic was an eruption of misplaced passion. Now though she felt she knew better, and their constant friction just made her sad. He had defended her no more than ten minutes ago, and she wasn't even surprised; Ron was loyal to a fault. But that quality was no longer enough to mask everything else he was. Once Hermione would have scolded herself, and forced herself to put her own needs to the back of her mind - she would have told herself to be kind and thanked him for trying to defend her to Harry. Hermione would no longer let any such words escape her lips. A real friend - she told herself - didn't need to be thanked for doing what was right.

"Why?" she asked finally. She decided to shut out everything else and go to the heart of Ron's issue, Viktor. "What possible reason could you have for not liking him?"

"You know why, Hermione," Ron said as he dropped slowly into a chair.

Hermione forced herself to place the butter knife she had retrieved from a drawer, down onto the table. "If you call him the enemy, Ron, I swear I will hex you mute."

Ron's eyes narrowed. "This is bigger than a poxy tournament, this is war, and you don't know him."

"I know him well enough."

"How do you know he's not faking it to get information? He's spent years being taught by a Death Eater."

Hermione scoffed. "You think that he-who-shall-not-be-named is information gathering by seducing a teenage Muggleborn?"

"Seducing!-" Ron began, but Hermione ignored him.

"And if being taught by a Death Eater is your only evidence for potential evil then we're all a threat to the side of the Light. We've had our fair share of circumspect educators, not to mention Voldemort himself in the first year."

Ron ground his teeth but he was mercifully silent, for a moment Hermione thought he wouldn't say anything else until he levered himself out of his seat and awkwardly placed a hand on her side. "I just think we should be careful - you should be careful," he gritted out, and then he left.

-/-/-/-

Hermione hadn't seen Ron or Harry for the rest of the day, Viktor had eventually found her, and after a brief tour, they had peacefully spent their time with Ginny and Luna.

Hermione accepted the vegetable platter that was working its way around the table and took the opportunity to eye Harry, who was sitting quietly and playing with his food. He seemed to be the focus of everyone's thoughts, given how many eyes around the room took their chance to regard him. Hermione was discomforted - though not surprised - to see that Viktor was garnering just as many covert glances.

The unusual silence with only the gentle clunking of serving dishes couldn't last, Hermione had known that from the heavyweight that had sat behind the noise; they were in the eye of the storm. When Mrs Weasley finally relinquished her tasks and took her seat at the table, any semblance of accord was firmly shattered.

"Hermione, Luna, it's lovely to have you back," she said, though Hermione could tell from her eyes that she was far from pleased. "Though, it was not a good idea for you to come back with an uninvited guest."

Hermione shared a glance with Luna before both girls went back to looking at their plates. Hermione didn't think she was a coward, she certainly had no problem sticking up for what she thought was right, but she didn't respond well to passive aggression. She had grown up as an only child to plain speaking parents; if Jean Granger had something to say about her child's actions or behaviour, she said it, she didn't needle Hermione until she broke. As far as Hermione was concerned, she had done nothing wrong.

Molly was not put off by the lack of response and sat down her cutlery. "There are precautions associated with the comings and goings here. They are important and set by the members of the Order, you have been allowed to stay here as a courtesy, but there are rules, rules I had thought you were mature enough to understand."

Hermione gripped her fork tightly in her fingers and reminded herself that Molly wanted her to protest, to act like a child so that she could further her own point. Fortunately, she took great comfort from Viktor sitting next to her and she felt shielded next to him, and because of that she was able to hold her tongue.

Tonks cleared her throat as Mrs Weasley began again, and the Auror leant over Remus with the pretence of wanting more wine. "They contacted me, Molly," she said with what appeared to be causal indifference. "I cleared it with Kings before saying yes, so it's all sorted. Can someone pass the broccoli?"

"Even so," Molly continued as a few of the occupants of the table jumped to do something to fill the silence after Tonk's opening. "I am afraid it isn't appropriate for him to stay."

Hermione stuffed a large potato in her mouth and had to chew quickly to stop herself from choking on it. Though she had expected Molly to voice an objection, her method rankled. Who was 'him'? Talking about Viktor as if he wasn't present was beyond rude. It was fine for Mrs Weasley to treat them like that - well, it wasn't, but anyway - but Viktor was an adult, a man who had never been anything but kind and gracious a day in his life. Hermione felt Viktor was someone to be treated with respect.

Hermione's resolve to keep quiet was diminishing; when she was attacked, she could stand it - just about - but she had never been very good at seeing those she cared about treated poorly. Hermione could feel herself getting ready to say something. She felt the same as she always did when she was going to take a stand; slightly sick in her stomach even as her spine straightened. Only before she could open her mouth, Viktor gripped her thigh, just above her knee. He squeezed once, and Hermione understood, he could speak for himself. Only Viktor didn't get the chance.

"I'm not sure what you mean by appropriate," Sirius said while applying ample seasoning to his dinner, "but Hermione's mother has been informed of Viktor's visit and has given her blessing." He didn't even look at Mrs Weasley as he said it, he just continued with the shakers before selecting a few more items out of dish Remus was holding.

Hermione's eyes widened, but as soon as she saw the hard edge to Sirius' stare, she knew to keep quiet. It was well known that she was no liar, and they both knew that he had uttered a rather colossal fib.

Hermione continued to regard her plate without feeling able to eat as Molly and Sirus exchanged barbs that got progressively heated.

"It's my house, Molly," Sirius said eventually, and to Hermione, as well as most of the table, it felt like the argument was over - Sirius had played the trump card and it was one that everyone young and old understood - under my roof, subject to my rules.

Molly visibly bristled and gestured towards Sirius, pointing her knife for emphasis. "That may be, but while they're here, they are under my care, and I have some say over what goes on."

"Over your own children certainly," Sirius agreed quickly.

"Over them all."

Sirius pushed his plate away and leant over the table. "Not over Harry, you have no say in his life; he's not your son."

"He's as good as!" Molly protested loudly. "Who else would he have if not for my family?"

Hermione felt the room take a collective breath, and she waited, helplessly, for what might happen next. Sirius' expression changed, his face lost all of its angry lines, and his eyes became blank, and yet he seemed even more dangerous than before. He gripped the edge of the table as his voice became a low hiss. "Me, Molly, he has me. I am his family, and he is mine."

Hermione looked at Remus, hoping he could do or say something to smooth everything over; he was the peacekeeper among them. But he was too busy trying to hold his oldest friend in his seat to be able to intervene. Harry had gone rigid, and the blood had run out of his face, he looked between Sirius and Mrs Weasley as if changing his mind every second over who to defend or chastise. His discomfort made Hermione want to scream. Couldn't they understand how much pain Harry was in? She understood Sirius' rage, even if she couldn't condone it, what she couldn't comprehend was why Molly thought it was worth picking the fight now? No one would have ever have contested that she cared for Harry, but why did she need to crow about it? Why did she need to deny Sirius such an integral part of himself that he had been unable to act on for so long? In many ways being Harry's Godfather was what kept him going, undoubtedly it had motivated him to get out of Azkaban.

Mrs Weasley brandished a spatula in Sirius' direction as her face grew blotchy, Arthur was doing his best to calm her by whispering into her ear, but it didn't seem to be working, and Hermione knew how this would end. Badly, maybe even bad enough to be irreparable. She hoped Viktor would shrug off the 'dinner theatre' as something not to be overly concerned about, but Harry wouldn't. He was too fragile. It was the least she could do after her failure over the summer to try and do something now that would help him.

"Mrs Weasley," she said tentatively, eventually having to repeat herself a couple of times before she was heard. "Thank you for thinking of my… best interests, I am sure my mother would appreciate your… diligence, but I think we should listen to Sirius, it is his house."

As planned, reminded of what the discussion had been about in the first place, Mrs Weasley rounded on her, and Sirius stormed out, leaving his abandoned plate behind.


Hermione managed to extract herself from the kitchen about an hour after Sirius left it. The talking to Molly had been planning to give her had been curtailed by Viktor politely explaining that he had sought only to accompany her and Luna home and would be returning in a few days. Mrs Weasley had been rather charmed by Viktor's old fashioned manners, and dropped all of her objections, to offer him another slice of cake.

Hermione could tell, knowing Viktor as well as she now did, that his politeness was largely affected. Viktor wasn't much of an actor, so she knew he had done it to make life easier for both of them, which she appreciated, even as she lamented that it had been necessary. Hermione cringed at the lack of welcome he received, though it did stop her worrying about what might happen when he hopefully met her parents - it couldn't be worse than what happened here.

Hermione had reluctantly left Viktor in the care of the remaining Weasley's around the table - after the adults had abandoned the room to do whatever their current orders were. She had whispered that she was sorry but he had smiled at her in that way of his that made her realise he didn't seem to be bothered at all, and she promised to come back soon.

She declined the offer of joining the game of exploding snap that was starting up and left the table, picking up Sirius' abandoned plate as she left the room. More than anyone Sirius needed to eat, he was still skinny after his time in Azkaban and on the run, but she knew he would be too stubborn to return to the table. Argumentative as he was, Hermione had observed that Sirius never seemed to seek out trouble, though he certainly did not shy away from it if it came to him.

Hermione was comforted by his door being slightly ajar and decided that Sirius wouldn't find company entirely unwelcome, even if he hadn't been expecting her appearance.

When Hermione entered his room, it was almost too dark to see, and she remained standing at the threshold until her eyes adjusted. The first thing she noticed was a pile of feathers and broken furniture, but there was no Hippogriff sleeping amongst the mess.

"Where's Buckbeak?" she asked quietly. Even though she hadn't seen Sirius since she entered she knew he was in there, she could hear his breathing.

"Hagrid took him," he answered in a ragged voice, and Hermione had the horrible suspicion that he had been crying. "Apparently, it's inhumane to keep a sentient creature locked in the upstairs bedroom of a dilapidated townhouse."

The - but it's fine to keep me here - was left unsaid but Hermione heard it as loudly as Sirius was emoting it. She didn't think there was anything she could say that would ease the pain of the last decade and half of Sirius' life and so she concentrated on the here and now walked towards the faint outline of the dresser and placed his plate upon it.

Sirius sighed, and Hermione wanted to hug him, but she thought better of it. Instead, she moved back towards the wall as Sirius emerged from the shadows and activated a dim side lamp. "Thank you, Hermione."

She shrugged. "It's only your plate. I thought you might still be hungry."

Sirius shuffled forward to take his seat and regarded her from behind his ruffled hair. "I didn't mean that, as you well know."

"Someone had to say something; it was more a distraction than an argument. You don't owe me anything. But if you insist that you do could you maybe seek out Harry tonight? I think he would appreciate some time with you."

Sirius tilted his head to the side and for a moment Hermione thought he was going to tell her to keep her nose out but he eventually nodded, and Hermione considered it a win. She thought about thanking him for that stunt he pulled about her mum's consent, but she thought better of it. Somehow she knew Sirius wasn't in the mood to hear about his good deeds. He was a man that dealt with his past by continually reminding himself that he was to blame for all of it, no matter how untrue that was. He seemed to believe his penance for James and Lily's murder was never to view himself as a decent man again. It was heartbreaking. All the more so because Hermione could see all of those traits in Harry, it would only get worse for all of them as the war continued.

Sirius took a mouth of food as Hermione let her hands drift over the raised wallpaper pattern behind her back. "She doesn't like me, and she never has," Sirius said, bitterly. "Molly thinks I'm impressionable and rash, which I suppose am."

"She doesn't dislike you," Hermione argued, "Mrs Weasley hides her worry that way. If we're all just children and we can all be bossed around, maybe she can keep us all safe. You threaten that and yes, you are impulsive, but your heart is in the right place, she knows that."

Darkness crept across Sirius' face, and the intensity of it made the hair on the back of Hermione's neck stand on end, but the next moment it was gone, and his mouth was pulled into his easy smirk, and his eyes were blank.

"You're only saying that because I let your boyfriend stay here." Hermione flushed but she didn't respond, she was still getting used to Sirius' abrupt change of mood. You could say what you liked about Harry and Ron being childish, but there was an ease in having friends that could stay in one state of mind for weeks on end - even if that emotional state was one in which they were at loggerheads with her, at least they were consistent.

Sirius' grin widened as he picked up on Hermione's obvious embarrassment. "Keep to your own rooms mind; I'm not having her proved right."

Hermione nodded, rather woodenly. "I promise." It was an easy one to make; she certainly wasn't brave enough to go scampering off to Viktor's room in the middle of the night. For one, you never knew who you would come across in the house, and for two, she had no idea what she would have done if she had ever made it inside. Her fate behind that door scared her more than getting to it - and it had nothing to do with the wizard himself, at least not really, but her lack of experience and understanding of what to expect terrified her.

"And I believe you. It's him I don't trust."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Why don't people like him? Viktor is a perfectly lovely person."

Sirius scoffed. "I'm sure he is poppet, but he's also a teenage boy - professional career or not."

"Therein speaks the voice of experience," Hermione replied sarcastically and Sirius had the gall to laugh.

"Something like that, I distinctly remember being his age, and that's why I'm cautious. Where is he, anyway?"

"With Ginny and the twins."

"You're brave," Sirius replied with a low whistle, and despite herself, Hermione felt a twinge of panic.

"He can handle himself," she said, trying to convince herself as much as him.

Just at that moment, there was the faint sound of a distant crash, and Hermione edged towards the door. "I think they are still a little too in awe of him to prank him; they're probably just showing off." The sound of another crash drifted up the stairs, and this time Hermione ignored Sirius' smug look and made towards the door. "I'm going to check on him."


Viktor tucked Hermione closer to him as they sat next to each other on the sofa and let his mind pack away the events of the last few hours as he enjoyed the relative quiet. All in all, it had gone about as well as he had expected, which was not well at all but he reminded himself that these people were all cooped up together rather unnaturally, which led to tensions that would typically be ignored boiling to the surface. He could tell Hermione was rather upset by it on his behalf, and he had done what he could to reassure her that he was in no way damaged by anyone's ill opinion, or that he had been used as a chip in whatever ongoing byplay existed between Mrs Weasley and Mr Black.

The only thing that bothered Viktor was the knowledge that he would have to leave Hermione there. The old house was joyless, and she deserved so much more. But, depressing as it was, it was a wake-up call, there was darkness ahead, and it was more certain in her world than his, though Viktor was sure if it were allowed to flourish it would bleed through to everywhere eventually.

But such heavy thoughts were for a different time. Instead, Viktor watched the casual conversation and activities around the room. The adults he had seen at dinner had all disappeared, and he was left with the rest of the Weasley clan and Luna. Harry had joined them half an hour before, but so far he had said nothing, Viktor noticed how Potter looked over at Hermione every now and again - he hoped it meant they would reconcile soon. He also saw Ron looking over from his position on the floor; he was taking on one of his brothers in a game of wizarding chess though he seemed to be spending a fair amount of time looking up at him and Hermione and scowling. Every time the redhead did it, Viktor moved Hermione a little closer to him. He was pretty sure she knew exactly what he was doing - if he had interpreted her eye-rolling correctly - but he couldn't help himself. He was never going to be able to trample down his competitive nature, especially when he didn't remotely want to.


When Hermione was finally in bed, she stared up at the ceiling, worried about how Viktor was feeling after the tense interactions from the day. Being with Viktor was a strange thing for her in so many ways. Hermione felt like she assumed a kind of motherly role with most of the boys in her life, whether they liked it or not. She scolded them, made sure they ate their dinner, did their homework and stayed happy. Viktor was different. Hermione didn't feel like he needed her in the same way, and though she was worried about him, part of her already knew that he would be fine.

"Well this is nice, like old times," Ginny said into the darkness and Hermione snorted.

"Old times? We were only gone for a few days."

"It felt like an age here," Ginny protested. "And it's so nice to see Viktor in the flesh again."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but unfortunately, no one could see it in the darkness. "I know what you are implying, Ginevra Weasley, but I'll have you know I had my own bedroom at Viktor's house."

"Still," Ginny responded, clearly unperturbed. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone so gone on a person since you were mooning after Lockhart."

"Simpler times," Luna said softly, and Hermione silently agreed.


A/N: Hello, and so we are firmly back in Grimmauld Place *sigh*. For those wondering, I try to keep the dynamic between Hermione and Ron close to canon i.e. Ron is behaving how he did in books 4 and 5 = SUPER jealous. Poor lamb. He will get over it at some point, I promise.