As one of my dear reviewers mentioned, things do indeed get darker from here on out. Fear not, there will be plenty of happy moments between our two and I have a feeling we're going to meet some very important people soon.

My little boy's name made an appearance in C21 (not that he's old enough to understand!), I wonder if you spotted it?

As always, thank you for the reviews and your favourites/follows. I'd love to hit 100 before we finish Vol III!

Mature warning!

'G'mornin' Mr Krum! We've not been introduced yet. I'm Fred-'

'-And I'm George.'

Viktor looked suspiciously at the two red-heads that had squeezed in either side of him at the breakfast table.

'Good morning,' He said warily. 'Are you friends of Hermione?'

'Sure we are,' Their answering grins were unapologetically mischievous. 'Known her since she was a bushy-haired firsty.'

This was to be his penance for thinking waking up early on the last day of the holidays was a good idea. Even Hermione was still in bed and Valentin had groused and rolled over in bed when Viktor had tried to rouse him. He decided to roll with it and see what they wanted from him.

'Okay. Then is a pleasure. Call me Viktor, please.' Viktor extended a polite hand to each twin in turn. They shook it eagerly.

'So, Viktor…' George said.

'…We've got a bit of a business proposition for you,' Fred continued. 'Something we think that'll be right up your alley.'

Up his… what? Whenever he thought he was getting used to Hermione's strange phrases the carpet was swept out from underneath him again. He looked at them blankly and picked up his mug of green tea, scanning the empty hall for an escape route.

'Hm, is this business proposition something my girlfriend would be pleased about?' He mused aloud, his mouth curling into a smirk. The twins looked comically aghast at his suggestion, but he didn't believe their innocent looks for a second. Hermione had told him all about the Weasley twins and their shenanigans.

'It's early days, we can't say for certain that she'll disapprove,' Fred said evasively. 'Though it would be mutually beneficial.'

'A killer deal.' George nodded.

Viktor caught sight of a bouncing mane of hair by the door and let his shoulders sag. He could have some fun here.

'I am listening.'

'We've been working on a plan for a joke shop, you see.' Fred said.

'And we think you'd be a smashing business partner.' George added.

'How so?'

Hermione had stopped to talk to one of her teachers and he willed her to hurry up.

'Not financial investment,' Fred said thoughtfully. 'Just your endorsement. If you threw your weight around a bit, dropped Weasleys'Wizard Wheezes into the odd interview here and there or even just happened to be seen with one of our products…'

'Yeah, Fred and I thought you could give a cheeky finger to Rita by endorsing one of our WonderWitch love potions,' George said. 'We reckon' that'll get her knickers in a right twist.'

Viktor wasn't sure what made him agree to consider their offer. It might've been their playful sincerity or their ingenuity, whatever it was, he found it impossible to dislike the Weasley twins. He stuck out his hand again and they shook on it.

'One more thing, Viktor. Can we have an autograph? It'd make our little brother unbearably jealous…'

Viktor shrugged and accepted the World Cup programme George produced from within his robes. He signed his name, the motion engraved in his muscle memory.

'Yeah, that witch of yours skipped out on her promise.' Fred said accusingly, though not unkindly.

'What's this, boys?' Hermione had arrived. Fred and George were the picture of innocence, glancing at each other with a disbelieving look that said us!?

'Nothing,' Viktor said with a quirk of his eyebrow. 'I am just solidifying my position as your friend Ron's least favourite person.'

…

The beginning of the summer term would normally have meant that Viktor was juggling preparation for training camp and his upcoming exams. This year, however, it was the third and final task that held his full attention from dawn to dusk. As he still didn't know what manner of gruelling ordeal was on the horizon, he'd taken to scouring through textbooks in the restricted section of Hogwarts library for all manner of offensive and defensive spells. Finally, in the last week of may, Professor Karkaroff held him back before dinner. He seemed less than pleased to be alone with Viktor.

'I have word that you're expected at their Quidditch pitch at nine o'clock,' He said, distracted by an invisible adversary. 'That imbecile Mr. Bagman will be there to share details of the final task. You'll go alone, I have… other commitments.'

So, later that evening Viktor left Valentin lounging around in their cabin and set out across the eerie lawn in front of Hogwarts. He met Cedric and Harry coming down from the castle and fell into step with them.

'Fleur's been going on about underground tunnels, what d'ya think the task will be?' Cedric asked them both as they tracked over the vast expanse of grass leading to the stadium.

'I haff a feeling there will be combat.' Viktor said, thinking of how, so far, the tasks had been a very individual affair. Surely the time had come for them to face off - or, at least, that was what Karkaroff had alluded to at the beginning of this journey.

'I hope not.' Harry said quietly.

They ducked through a gap in the stands and stopped dead at the sight that greeted them. The Quidditch pitch where he'd stolen the win for Durmstrang only a matter of months ago was no longer. Someone had steamrolled the goalposts and in their place were low hedges that crisscrossed for as far as the eye could see.

'Over here!' The jovial voice of Ludo Bagman carried over the still evening air. It was just as well his Highmaster hadn't come; his moods were so dark and agitated of late he might've hexed the wizard on the spot for being so chirpy.

Fleur was stood beside Ludo in the centre of the field. She beamed at Harry as they approached and Viktor found himself glancing between the two. Much to Valentin's chagrin she'd never looked at him like that, nor had Viktor seen her show much interest in anyone other than the predictably clean-cut wizard that had accompanied her at the Yule Ball.

'Well?' Bagman prompted. 'One more month and they'll be twenty feet high. Don't you worry, boys, it'll all be back to normal when the task is over! I don't make a habit of desecrating Quidditch fields,' He peered at Viktor, eager for a response to his joke. Viktor responded with a strained smile. 'Do any of you know what we're building, I wonder?'

'Maze.' Viktor replied evenly.

'Indeed, Mr Krum! Spot on,' Bagman clapped him on the shoulder. 'Very straightforward. First champion to touch the Triwizard Cup in the centre will receive top marks. Easy-peasy!'

Easy-peasy my ass. Viktor caught Harry's white face out of the corner of his eye and he sniggered inwardly. Harry was clearly thinking along the same lines - whatever obstacles had been placed within the hedgerow walls were unlikely to be friendly. The most unassuming task of all was going to be the ultimate challenge, of that he was one-hundred percent sure.

At a loss of what else to say Ludo led them out of the maze, winding his way through the borders that would soon play host to the grand finale. Viktor hurried forward and tapped Harry on the shoulder, prizing him from the clutches of an overzealous Bagman.

'Can I haff a quick word?'

'Yeah, all right,' Harry replied and told Bagman to continue on without him (much to the wizard's visible disappointment). Viktor guided Harry away from the stadium and towards the privacy of the forest, glancing every which way to ensure they weren't being followed. It would cause him much more grief if Rita Skeeter were to overhear this conversation.

'I am not wanting to be spied on again, Harry,' Viktor explained at his puzzled expression. 'There is something I need to tell you… that should remain between us.'

Viktor stopped in the shadow of the forest canopy and gripped Harry firmly by the shoulder. While he wasn't sure he could call Harry a friend yet, he felt an obligation to look out for him on behalf of Hermione. What's more, Harry seemed to be a genuine and faithful friend, despite the infamous legend that hung over him.

'What's this about, Viktor?' Harry said in a low voice.

When he was satisfied there was no one lurking about Viktor wet his lips and proceeded to tell Harry a paraphrased version of the conversation he'd overheard between his Highmaster and the Hogwarts Potion Master on the night of the Yule Ball. Harry paled at his story.

'I was trying to think who could haff put your name in the Goblet,' Viktor said evenly. 'I haff become aware that your Potions Master… has shown me a lot of interest. He has made attempts to invade my mind and he is, how to say, bumping into me a lot.'

'Snape's a slimy git, but I don't believe he'd try to do me in like that.' Harry said, though a little uncertainly.

Viktor shrugged. 'Whatever you say. I thought you should know.'

'Thanks.'

Viktor stared at him for a few seconds, the malicious look Snape had given him when he'd stepped in his path one morning during the holidays flashing into his mind's eyes. He'd looked at Viktor like he was prey caught in a trap.

'You… must be careful, Harry,' Viktor dropped his voice to a barely audible whisper. 'Something is going to happen soon, my Highmaster, he is becoming very paranoid.'

'How so?'

'I cannot say, is just a feeling.'

Harry gave him a curious look that suggested he knew exactly where Viktor was coming from. Viktor wanted to shake him and tell him he should be more cautious; for his own sake and for Hermione's sake.

'Well.. Karkaroff came into class the other day,' Harry mumbled tentatively and at Viktor's encouraging nod spoke more clearly. 'He showed Snape something on his arm and said it was becoming clearer. He was pretty panicked…'

'The mark!' Viktor hissed and shoved his left sleeve up. 'Was this side?'

They both peered at the pale and untainted expanse of Viktor's forearm. His grey-blue veins were ghostly in the moonlight. Harry nodded, a question forming on his lips.

'Is the mark of your Dark Lord,' Viktor explained and yanked his sleeve back down, gritting his teeth. 'I must tell my father of this. If the mark is growing then we are all in trouble.'

'Why do you call Voldemort that? Our Dark Lord?'

'Because Grindelwald was our stain and our ruin,' Viktor muttered distractedly. 'Your Dark Lord's mania did not touch us like Grindelwald's did.'

Harry made to retort, but Viktor covered his mouth and whipped his head around. There was a rustling sound in the trees behind them. He'd heard stories of what dwelled within the Forbidden Forest from Hermione and he'd choose Rita Skeeter over any of those foul creatures.

'Mr… Crouch?' Harry said in disbelief.

A man had staggered out from within the forest. Viktor's wand was in his hand and outstretched in a heartbeat, pointing directly at the ragged wizard's head. He looked as though he'd been living on the streets; his robes were torn and bloody; his face bore recent scars; he was unshaven and gaunt. However, his strange appearance was unremarkable compared to his behaviour. He was babbling incessantly to himself and gesticulating wildly at the trees in front of him.

Viktor lowered his wand towards the man's chest and gawked at him. This wizard was known to him… he had been at the World Cup. He was also one of the triwizard judges.

'He is with your Ministry, is he not?' Viktor said to Harry.

'Yeah…' Harry replied and followed Mr Crouch who was now stumbling back into the woods. 'I think we need to go and get someone, Viktor. He's gone mental!'

It was an apt description. Mr Crouch's eyes were rolling in his head and he was now garbling at a tree as though expecting it to talk back. He was showing all the symptoms of being bewitched. Viktor's wand twinged nervously in his grasp and he considered hitting the barmy wizard with an incarcerous.

'I need… Dumbledore… my fault… the Dark Lord… Bertha… all my fault…' Mr Crouch was staring through them.

'Okay,' Harry tried to steady the Ministry wizard but stumbled underneath his weight. 'Viktor, can you stay with him? I'll get Dumbledore, I'll be quicker, I know where his office is!'

Viktor stared at Mr Crouch doubtfully. 'He has lost his mind,' He said. 'What is he saying about your Dark Lord?'

Harry looked troubled, but snapped out of it quickly and addressed Viktor in a furious whisper. 'Help me, will you? Just stop him from escaping!'

Viktor squatted down next to Mr Crouch and finally nodded. He gripped onto him with all his strength as he watched Harry sprint away into the distance, a feeling of unease settling in the pit of his stomach. He would need to tell his father everything —

A splitting pain tore through the back of his head and the last thing he recalled before everything went black was the frantic mutterings of a mad man.

…

Ennervate.

Viktor's eyelids fluttered open and he stared dazedly into the concerned face of Professor Dumbledore. He tried to pull himself upright but the pain in the back of his head throbbed, sending him back to the ground with a wave of nausea and dizziness.

'He attacked me!' Viktor croaked when Dumbledore inquired about what had happened. He clutched the back of his head, feeling for a wound. He felt dampness. 'The ministry wizard attacked me!'

'Stay still, Mr Krum.' Dumbledore said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Viktor was about to object when what sounded like the footsteps of a dozen trolls shattered the precarious silence. He blinked stupidly as the enormous figure of the Hogwarts gamekeeper came into view, his boarhound loping behind him at full speed.

'Professor Dumbledore! Harry?' His eyes settled on Viktor and he gaped, open mouthed and wide-eyed.

'Hagrid, it is imperative that you fetch Professor Karkaroff,' Dumbledore said calmly. 'His student has been attacked.'

'Right, y'are, Professor…' Hagrid mumbled to himself, and, after a moment's hesitation, turned and disappeared back the way he had come, heading for the Black Lake and Viktor's unsuspecting Highmaster.

Things were about to get bad very quickly. As if to agree the pain in Viktor's head pulsated and he squeezed his eyes shut to dull the rolling nausea in his stomach. Professor Karkaroff would take this as a personal slight, even if he had been looking at his own students recently like he wouldn't mind hexing them into obedience.

Viktor didn't have to wait long to find out how Karkaroff would react. He appeared a short while later hurrying behind the gamekeeper and his dog. He was dressed in his evening furs of a shimmering silver and was extremely pale and on edge.

'Viktor! What's the meaning of this?' He cried out in Bulgarian at the sight of Viktor's form on the ground. Then, in English to Dumbledore and the jittery Harry at the Headmasters side. 'What is this?'

'I was waiting with Mr Crouch and he attacked me.' Viktor explained, his voice deadpan. Karkaroff's expression changed instantly. He drew himself up, wrapping his furs tightly around him and looked, for all intents and purposes, as though he was about to explode.

'This is treachery!' He bellowed, pointing a long, calloused finger at Dumbledore. 'It is a plot! You and your Ministry have lured me here under false pretences, Dumbledore! I smell corruption in this whole affair, your own official has attempted to put my champion out of action! This will reach our Ministry and there will be uproar! And you, Dumbledore, with your talk of rebuilding old ties and forgetting old differences — here's what I think of you!'

Professor Karkaroff spat at the ground at Dumbledore's feet. Viktor was vertical in an instance, pushing aside the swimming in his head. He grabbed Harry by the lapel of his robes just in time to stop him from pulling his wand on the wizard. However, in one swift movement, as though he weighed nothing more than a snitch, the Hogwarts gamekeeper seized Karkaroff by his furs, thrust him into the air, and slammed his shaking frame into the trunk of a nearby oak.

'Apologise!' Hagrid snarled and Viktor watched in horror as his Highmaster struggled for breath, the gamekeeper's massive fist squashed against his jugular. It was the weakest he had ever seen the imposing wizard, and, despite the animosity he felt towards him, a flash of panic swept through his body.

'Hagrid, put him down!' Dumbledore shouted. The reaction was instantaneous; Hagrid let the crumpled Karkaroff collapse in a heap at the base of the tree, clutching at his throat as he gulped in air.

Viktor remained silent while Dumbledore ordered Hagrid to escort Harry back up to the castle. A fresh wave of nausea rolled through Viktor and he shielded his sensitive eyes until it passed. When his stomach had settled once more Dumbledore was repeating his instruction to the gameskeeper.

'Harry,' Viktor said through gritted teeth. 'Please… warn Hermione. I will send Roderick to explain, but tell her she must not worry.'

Dumbledore and Hagrid glanced at him, ending their tense exchange. The mention of Hermione had the effect of a violent shake to Hagrid and he finally took Harry by the elbow, forcing him to break out into a jog to keep up with him. Viktor watched with a sense of foreboding until they had disappeared. He was left with an irate Karkaroff and the impassive looking Dumbledore.

'I will be telling Viktor's father,' Karkaroff called out menacingly from where he was tangled in the tree roots. 'You understand, Dumbledore, we will be taking this as an affront to Durmstrang and Bulgaria.'

Professor Dumbledore was unconcerned by Karkaroff's threat, just as he had been indifferent to his earlier display of disrespect. While Viktor's Highmaster attempted to prize himself from the tree's grip, it was Dumbledore that offered Viktor a hand and helped him to his feet. He steadied Viktor when he swayed and placed a soothing hand on his bicep.

'Viktor,' Dumbledore ignored Karkaroff's sharp words and looked Viktor straight in his eyes. 'I am sorry for what has happened tonight.'

It seemed as though there were more words on the tip of his tongue, but he said no more. Viktor managed a weak smile before Karkaroff was at his side, tearing him away from Dumbledore's presence as though he was trying to sway Viktor's allegiance.

'Things are going to change, Dumbledore,' Karkaroff hissed. 'My students are not safe and I will be taking the measures to protect them. No more meals in your hall. No more little sports competitions, and,' He glared at Viktor. 'No more library.'

…

Over the following days the Durmstrang students withdrew from daily life at Hogwarts. Their absence, despite the comparably small number of them, was acutely felt by everyone, above all at mealtimes where both the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables seemed less animated without their foreign guests. Hermione spotted Valentin once or twice leaving Charms by himself, as bereft without Viktor as Harry would be without Ron. Viktor's nightly notes assured her that he was simply recuperating in bed and not being held hostage by Karkaroff, though that did little to quell her anxiety.

The night of Harry and Viktor's run in with Mr Crouch her best friend had come scrambling into the common room to recount his tale only ten or so minutes before Roderick arrived with a missive that corroborated his story. She'd been halfway out of the portrait hole before Harry and Ron were able to restrain her, begging them to allow her to go to him.

Although there were only a handful of people at Hogwarts who knew the truth about Viktor's attack, the news had gotten out, as it always did, and as a result rumours of increasing absurdity made their way from classroom to classroom, crossing Hermione's path when it was circulating that Harry himself had accosted Viktor as revenge for stealing Hermione away from him. The witch in question took refuge in the library to escape the renewed wave of gossip and falsehoods, however, her usual sanctuary brought her little comfort and her study sessions were even less productive than the hours she wasted fretfully thinking of Viktor during class. Troubled thoughts would come mid-sentence whilst writing an essay or as Professor Binns drawled on about giant wars and she'd be back to square one, trying to decipher what incentive Mr Crouch would've had to attack Viktor.

Above all else, Hermione missed Viktor. She missed his flirtatious teasing while they worked alongside each other and she missed his constant presence and easy companionship - more than once she left the library ahead of schedule and fled to the common room to avoid the uncanny quiet. Nevertheless, there was no way she could get to him, not when he was confined to the ship.

Or so she thought. As Monday came around Valentin was already waiting for her at their table in the Ancient Runes classroom. She sat quickly at his side and a rush of enquiries about Viktor's health tumbled from her mouth.

'He's fine,' Valentin patted her hand. 'He is moping all day, but his head is fine. You will see.'

'How can I see?' Hermione snapped and Valentin raised an eyebrow. 'Sorry,' She said hastily. 'I didn't mean to be rude. But that's impossible.'

Valentin shrugged and stretched back in his seat. Students were now beginning to file into the empty classroom, a consistent hum of chatter invading their tense exchange.

'Meet me tonight, outside the entrance hall,' Valentin flashed Hannah Abbott a lopsided smile as she sat down and dropped his voice to a whisper. 'Straight after dinner. I will get you to him.'

…

That night Hermione skulked out of the Great Hall early, leaving Ginny behind to distract the boys. She'd not managed to eat more than a few roast potatoes as her stomach was a tangle of apprehensive butterflies - if Valentin was about to attempt to smuggle her onto the Durmstrang ship it might well be one of the stupidest things she'd ever tried, and she'd done her fair share of that with Harry and Ron. Her curiosity and desire to see Viktor for herself had won out in the end, no matter the potential consequences.

Valentin was lounging by the grand door when she appeared, his arms crossed and foot tapping against the stonework as though they weren't about to break a number of school rules. Upon seeing her, he propelled himself off the wall and sidled up to her. They walked in silence across the lawn, Hermione too nervous to make polite small talk.

'Are you… sure about this, Valentin?' The intimidating ship bobbing on the surface of the Black Lake sucked away the last of her confidence. 'Surely there's wards to stop intruders?'

Valentin smirked at her and, when they were safely within the shadows, tapped his wand on the crown of her head. The unsettling sensation of being doused in ice-cold water trickled through her body and she turned her palms over to check the disillusionment charm had been effective. Valentin's spell-work was impeccable; Hermione had become a human chameleon, blending in with their murky surroundings. In no time at all they had reached the gangplank onto the ship; it was swaying in the lake's gentle current and Hermione looked at it apprehensively.

'I am sure,' Valentin urged her onto it without warning, looping his arms underneath her armpits when she stumbled. 'You don't think this many boys would not find a way to bypass wards for some midnight mischief?'

She felt silly then. Viktor had certainly never mentioned any nighttime escapades, but she wasn't naive enough to imagine the other eighteen teenagers would remain innocently in their cabins at night. The temptation of a co-education school must've been strong.

Valentin paused to tap her with his wand once more as they came to a dip in the mahogany exterior, where the gangplank connected with the main deck of the galleon. He mumbled an incantation in a foreign tongue and then levered her over a step and onto the ship.

The sight that greeted her was like something out of a history book. It reminded Hermione of a mixture between an old Scandinavian warship and a fairytale pirate ship. A flag bearing the Durmstrang coat of arms flapped at the helm, casting a huge shadow over the hull. A number of mismatched trap doors were scattered across the deck that she presumed led to cabins, classrooms and a common room of sorts.

'This way,' Valentin guided her with a hand on the small of her back, winding his way towards the stern of the ship with familiar ease. They climbed a ladder up towards a quarter deck that was being used as storage for dozens of muddy dragon-hide boots. With a quick glance over his shoulder, Valentin yanked open a round trap door and gestured for her to go first. Hermione was trembling as she scrambled down the narrow ladder, focusing on not catching her shoes under each rung.

She breathed a sigh of relief when her feet hit solid floorboards and she peered around, taking in the magically altered corridor that housed ten identical, plain doors. The Durmstrang dormitory. An involuntary shiver wracked her body as it dawned on her where she was. So many of her fellow school friends had wondered what it was like aboard the grandiose ship… and here she was. A solo Gryffindor surrounded by the private quarters of twenty boys. This was illicit… and it was thrilling.

Valentin marched ahead and came to a stop at the door furthest on the left. A square, brass plaque read 'V & V'.

'In you go,' Valentin twisted the handle and urged her forwards. 'If Karkaroff comes sniffing around I'll tell him Viktor needs some… alone time.' He spoke loud enough for Viktor to hear, his words obscured by a snigger.

The door closed behind Hermione and she found herself in a deceptively large cabin. Two single beds rested against either far side of the room and the walls were panelled with wood of a rich, cherry colour. Viktor was sat up in bed, a book resting in his lap, blinking at her as though she were an apparition.

'Hermione?'

She smiled shyly. 'Erm, surprise?'

Hermione crossed the floorboards and perched on the end of his bed. Viktor's side of the cabin was sparsely decorated; it was much like what she'd imagined a male bedroom to be like, and not the Chudley Canons shrine that Ron lived in. A handful of magical photos had been pinned to the wall above his bed and she recognised the happy faces as belonging to his parents, Ana and Valentin. One photo contained a young boy of about five or six sporting Viktor's iconic mop of dark hair and commanding features, standing proudly beside an older gentleman in something that resembled a military uniform.

'Is my grandfather,' Viktor explained, following the direction of her gaze. 'He died a few years after that photo was taken.' His voice was clipped and thick with emotion.

'Okay.' She said simply and continued her perusal of his environment, too curious to mask her blatant nosiness. Viktor's bedside table was surprisingly messy; a glistening golden snitch took pride of place in the centre, along with his wand, a pile of notes in her rushed handwriting and a pair of seeker's gloves.

'I missed you.' She said at last.

Viktor closed the textbook that had gone forgotten on his knee. He dropped it down the side of his bed into a duffel bag and opened his arms to her. She scooted over the duvet and snuggled into his embrace. Her right hand strayed to his hair and she weaved it through the thick locks, searching for a bump or a healed wound. Hermione found the raised skin easily and gently massaged it with her fingertips, her face betraying her worry, before crushing her lips to his and seeking reassurance from their kiss.

'I am fine,' Viktor said when she broke away. 'The worst part has been Professor Karkaroff playing healer.'

Hermione giggled. The image of Viktor's Highmaster in Madam Pomfrey's uniform appeared in her mind's eye and she snorted.

'I wish you'd gone to our hospital wing.' Hermione sighed.

'I wished that too,' Viktor groused. 'But Karkaroff will not let me leave. He is thinking someone is out to get me.'

'Are they, Viktor?'

He looked at her impassively for a moment and then shook his head. 'My father thinks I was, how to say, in the wrong place at wrong time. But he is coming over, he is… not happy.'

Hermione buried her face in his top - a baggy Quidditch jersey of a team she didn't recognise - and resigned herself to the injustice of it all. As if they weren't stressed enough about the impending final task without the added strife of a madman on the loose.

'Anyway, Hermione, you haff risked a lot to find me tonight, let us not talk about my injury or my father.'

Hermione gave him a weak smile. She wasn't sure what she'd intended to happen, but fussing over his head wound sounded like a sure fire way to wreck her nerves even more.

'So, I asked Mum about going to Bulgaria,' She said coyly. 'She and Dad have agreed to let me go, if you visit us first. We had plans to go camping, but I do understand if that's not your thing.' She added quickly.

The corners of Viktor's lips quirked into a grin. 'I would like that. I used to camp with my Grandfather when I was small.'

'Oh?'

'But I am thinking it will be more fun… in a tent with you.' Viktor's eyes flashed and her body broke out into a hot flush.

'I'm… I'm not sure my parents will allow that.' She squeaked.

'Shame.'

In one swift movement Viktor slid back his bed covers. He curled a cold finger around her wrist and tugged, inviting her to clamber into his lap. It was an innocent enough gesture; they'd sat like that countless times before, but he hadn't taken into consideration their attire (or, maybe, he had). Underneath the grey Quidditch jersey Viktor was wearing only a pair of plain black boxers. Hermione couldn't help but gawp at him. Viktor didn't seem to notice, instead settling her comfortably into the cradle of his crossed legs and pressing sweet kisses along her cheek and at the corner of her mouth. She took the distraction as permission to ogle his muscular thighs, a dusting of black hair blanketed them, as well as his sinewy calves and bare feet. The sight of Viktor exposed like this was startlingly intimate.

She adjusted herself to find a comfortable position and became distinctly aware of Viktor's crotch squeezed against her own. In all of their previous encounters she'd been wearing jeans, but today she was still in her school skirt and tights - meaning that there was merely a slither of material between them. Something that wouldn't normally have been intended as erotic was now making her lightheaded. In an effort to cool her rising ardour, Hermione tucked her skirt under and steadied herself with a hand on Viktor's pectoral muscle. It flexed against her touch and she giggled nervously.

'Is funny to you?' Viktor smirked at her, his eyes twinkling. When she bit her lip in response Viktor reached behind himself and yanked his jersey up and over his head. Hermione felt her throat constrict and she swallowed instinctively. There was none of her inexperienced shyness in Viktor's relaxed movements, but, she surmised, that wasn't surprising considering he was used to the press' critical eye, not to mention there was nothing about his body to be self-conscious of.

It was like she'd been transported back to the medical tent on the day where she'd first seen him like this. Since then his chest had filled out further and the bruise on his shoulder had faded to nothing. Fuelled by curiosity and feeling braver than the last time she'd done this, Hermione smoothed her hands over his collarbones, feeling goose pimples rise from his smooth skin as her palms and fingertips trailed a way down his sternum and then over his solid stomach.

Viktor kissed her again, but this time it was slow and seductive, his hot tongue probing her mouth, unwilling to stop for even a breath. The temperature in the cabin seemed to rise another few degrees and Hermione felt beads of sweat break out over her forehead; the dull ache she now knew to be arousal was back and it was more insistent than ever.

She wasn't sure if it was their private location or his near nudity, but there was no hesitancy in Viktor as there always had been before. His eyes were closed as they kissed, though his hands drew a familiar path down her spine and came to a stop on her ass, squeezing the cheeks fondly. Hermione couldn't help giggle again and she felt Viktor's lips quirk into a smile against hers.

He gripped her roughly and kneaded each globe in unison before one set of rough fingertips glided underneath her skirt from behind. He faltered at her tights and she wriggled to make space for him. Viktor fumbled for a second before tugging down the thick, woollen material; it bunched between the curve of her ass and her thighs and rubbed at the sensitive skin there, but she didn't complain. Before Hermione had time to evaluate their new situation, Viktor's fingers skimmed her bare flesh and dipped into her underwear. She gasped into his open mouth and squeezed her eyes shut. There was an urgency in his movement as Viktor slipped a finger inside her. The dull ache roared into a delicious throbbing and she moaned unabashedly, warmth spreading through her limbs. He coaxed her higher, stroking and caressing with a gentle insistence as he sucked on her lower lip.

'I haff been thinking about this.. a lot,' Viktor whispered, tearing his lips from hers and setting a new path along her jawline.

Hermione quivered against him. Her head was swimming again and her throat was so dry it felt like sandpaper. She could feel every ridge on his finger as it pumped in and out of her slick flesh, the pad of his thumb tickling the same spot that had felt so electrifying the last time. Hermione focused on breathing through her nose and slowing the frantic thump of her heart, when, all of a sudden, she felt an unfamiliar stretching sensation between her legs. Her eyes flew open and she met Viktor's boyish expression, he was grinning at her lazily, his eyes smouldering.

'What?' Her mouthed formed a shocked O and she elicited a drawn-out moan.

'Is two fingers,' Viktor dragged his tongue over her bottom lip and nuzzled her neck. 'It feels good?'

Hermione blinked and nodded dazedly. It didn't hurt, but there was a sensation of fullness she'd never experienced before. He'd upped the ante and was brushing the bundle of nerves at the apex of her labia with an increasing urgency, his two fingers gliding into her rhythmically. The ache was growing and the tingling in her fingers was back; she knew this time she wouldn't panic. Hermione steadied her breath and forced a wave of calm over herself, feeling only the heated caress of Viktor inside her. The need to grind against him was instinctive and there was no embarrassment at doing so this time; the familiar spongy firmness was straining against the thin cotton of his underwear and rubbing exquisitely against her.

The throbbing beneath Viktor's thumb was building, centred directly between her thighs, and he deftly stroked the part of her that elicited sparks of pleasure until she was at the edge, teetering and ready to embrace her release. This time she crushed her lips against him as the pleasure reached its crescendo and she let go willingly. The orgasm rippled through her lower stomach and spread as a delicious warmth down her legs to her toes, her hips jerking and spasming involuntarily as the waves of ecstasy travelled through her soaring body. She slumped against him, weightless and sated.

'I am guessing that is what happens we finally get in bed together,' Viktor brushed his lips against hers and leaned back against the headboard, looking smug and fulfilled. Hermione flushed scarlet.

Determined that she wasn't going to leave him wanting when he was the patient, Hermione swallowed her nerves and shuffled back off Viktor's lap. His eyes went wide in protest of her absence, but she proceeded to sit back on her heels and force his legs open.

'Hermione, vot are you —'

She put a single finger to his lips to hush his stutters. If she was about to do this, really do this, she'd rather he didn't vocalise it. Not just because Valentin could be hanging around outside, but because she might chicken out any second. Licking her bottom lip nervously, Hermione knelt between his legs and glanced down at the bulge in his underwear. The material had become impossibly tight as he'd grown and it looked as though it was choking him. She took a deep, steadying breath and grazed her palm of her hand over his crotch. She spared him a momentary glance and saw that realisation had dawned in his eyes — she'd never seen such heat and desire in them before.

Hermione was more exact in her explorations this time around. She stroked and squeezed him through the material and smiled to herself as a small wet patch bloomed on the cotton where his arousal had begun to leak. She could smell his arousal, musky and entirely male. Gathering her hair up into a ponytail, Hermione pushed her curls out of her face and bent down to lay a kiss on his erection. It pulsated against her lips as though it had its own heartbeat, twitching and swelling from her ghosting touch. A heady sensation fizzled through her and she was emboldened by his guttural groan. He liked this.

Hermione shoved aside all her doubts and prized Viktor's hot flesh out through the fly hole in his boxer shorts, her other hand skimming the black hair that dusted his thighs and grazing her nails over the sensitive skin at the hollow of his thigh. His erection jutted impressively through the small gap, skimming the underside of her chin and twitching at the rush of her exhalation. Studying him for a moment, the thick length swollen and dark with blood, she gave it an experimental lick from base to tip. Viktor's hips snapped forward of their own accord, his breath coming in frantic gulps. Laughter bubbled in her throat; she felt so powerful, so in control.

Viktor's fingers tangled in her hair, pushing it away from her face to allow him a better view of what she was doing. Their eyes met and Hermione attempted her best seductive smile; it didn't require much effort — arousal was still coursing through her veins, her eyelids were heavy from her own pleasure, and her lips were swollen and red from his kisses. Viktor nudged her gently then, indicating he wanted her to continue. Hermione cracked a smile and, slowly but surely, engulfed the helmet of his erection with her mouth.

'Fuck, fuck, fuck,' Viktor groaned again. 'I am yours witch. Forever.'

Hermione needed no more encouragement. Her books might've failed her on this aspect of intimacy, but her instincts didn't. Doing her best to shield her teeth with her lips she suctioned more of him into her mouth and experimented with how far she could go; he jerked involuntarily and the tip slammed into the back of her throat, forcing her to gag. He shot her an apologetic look, but his jaw was slack and his eyes heavy-lidded, so she couldn't find it within herself to be angry when he was enjoying himself that much. He was putty in her hands and, as she gently lapped at the underside, nudging it with her nose in her characteristically meticulous manner, his grunts grew more frequent and more hoarse. The feel of him in her mouth was one of stark contrasts; soft, silky skin and scorching, solid flesh, and she could feel his pulse beating under her tongue as she continued her explorations.

Her lips glided over his length unhurriedly as she tested clutching him at the same time, pumping and applying pressure to the base in an attempt to find what he liked. Mirroring his own attentive ministrations, she sucked the tip harder, dipping her tongue tenderly between the slit there whenever she wanted to hear him moan louder, and again as his thrusting became more frenetic and his vocalisations more delirious. By way of a reaction, she tried to find a rhythm of bobbing her head and hollowing her cheeks, responding to his every whimper with, what was, in her mind, an inelegant but tenacious desire to please. It didn't feel the most natural of actions, but his responses made her feel powerful and sexy. Her jaw had started to ache, but Viktor was bucking so wildly now that she sensed it would be over soon — and she wasn't wrong.

Viktor gripped her shoulder and pushed urgently. Confused but unwilling to persist if she was doing something wrong, Hermione released him with a wet pop that sounded strangely erotic to her ears. Viktor fisted himself instantly, stroked once and then decorated his abdominal muscles with strings of his translucent release. She watched in fascination as the tip throbbed and contracted, spurting more of the pearlescent liquid onto his flushed skin. Why hadn't he wanted her to… swallow that? She had to know. Hermione's finger shot out and she scooped a little onto her thumb before popping it into her mouth. He tasted musky and somewhat salty; it wasn't unpleasant, but perhaps it might've been overwhelming to swallow it all.

There was three loud raps on the door and both she and Viktor jumped.

'Vik? Two minute warning, it's curfew.'

Hermione blushed at hearing Valentin's distant voice. If he'd walked in at that moment there was no way they'd be able to hide what they'd been up to… and that thought was oddly thrilling. She'd made Viktor do that. Viktor muttered a quick scourgify, his skin turning red and raw under the cleansing charm. However, he didn't tuck himself away in a hurry as he had done the last time.

'I… I think I am being a patient more often,' He said. 'If that is the treatment I receive.'

A peal of laughter escaped her lips and she rested her forehead against his left pectoral; it was covered with a sheen of sweat and his heart was still thudding a little too fast.

'Yes, well, I enjoyed it too.' She replied.

'I wish you could stay,' He said wistfully. 'But I do not want you to get in trouble, even if it might be worth it.'

She shoved him playfully at the insinuation and hopped down from the bed, righting her crumpled clothing and askew skirt. Viktor held onto the hem as she walked towards the door, seemingly unwilling to let their time together come to an end.

'Well, goodbye,' Hermione said. 'I hope I'll see you soon.'

She turned the door knob and opened the door a fraction, but Viktor slammed it closed again with a sharp bang, pressing her up against the wooden frame in a deft twist of his hips. He lifted her up, digging his fingers into her thighs, and attacked her already swollen lips with a searing kiss. After a moment, he let her slide down the door, as boneless as she'd been under his touch earlier.

'Goodbye, dušička. Obicham te.'

He opened the door for her and, with a tap on her bottom, sent her through to his best friend and back to the castle.

A/N: Did anyone else always wonder what the inside of the Durmstrang ship was like?

I always find these kinds of scenes difficult to write, but I hope I did this momentous moment for H&V justice. And, while things are proceeding happily for our two in that department, I'm still very hesitant about anything more… mature before Hermione is of age. Although I'm not naive, it sits funny with me as a mother to a daughter.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter — let me know what you thought! C23 will be up later this week, I believe…