Hi all; apologies for a much later update than usual. Both my babies have been poorly this week, so writing, unfortunately, became very low priority! Don't worry, no fic abandonment here ;)

I was struggling with guilt about delays in writing and then I remembered that I'm doing this for fun — for the love of writing. I know that you're all exceedingly patient, so I need not to beat myself up about delays.

A week hadn't seemed so long to Hermione since the time she'd been doubling up on classes in her fourth-year. She was trying her damnedest to be bright and upbeat for everybody's sake, though she was sure the fake smile plastered on her face was doing little to convince anyone that she was, indeed, just fine, thank you very much. Harry and Ron had been walking on eggshells around her, the latter applying the tactic his elder siblings normally fell back on: overzealous humour and a few well-placed compliments. Despite their innocuous attempts to lift her spirits she still missed Viktor intensely and not even their company in the library provided adequate enough distraction from the gaping hole Viktor had left in the most mundane of her daily rituals. After a panicky fit of tears in the common room one night (Ginny was on the scene in a flash), her colour-coded revision schedule had made a reappearance and since then exam preparation was keeping her mind far more preoccupied.

In the privacy of her dormitory, Hermione told Crookshanks that perhaps this was good practice for the next year, when, inevitably, this would become her new normality. By the time Viktor returned to Bulgaria for good, they would've had just over a year together; while none of their current situation was ideal, it was plain sailing in comparison to the year ahead. Certainly, they had agreed to fight hard to maintain their relationship, but Hermione was a realist. She was under no illusion that it'd be easy — so she wrestled with his absence in private and faced it publicly with her head held high.

Celeste's routine visits to the Great Hall had increased in frequency, as had her tendency towards theatrics. One morning in the first week of June, as Neville cowered away from the cantankerous bird, Hermione poured over Ana's most recent letter. Upon reflection, it astounded her to realise how close they'd become over their seven or so months of friendship — maybe it really wasn't all that surprising, considering how alike they were. Unlike the boys, who encouraged the carefree side of her, and Ginny who fostered her femininity and ability to laugh at herself, Ana alone treated Hermione's insatiable appetite for knowledge as something to celebrate.

Between a mouthful of porridge and a swig of tea, Hermione scanned the letter, tutting here and there. A true smile ghosted her lips for the first time in days as Ana recounted the events of her conference, mocking the half-witted comments some of the other academics who had challenged her with. However, Ana's closing remark proved unsettling and not humorous in the slightest — she was at home for a short period, visiting her parents and carrying out some research into a native off-shoot of Golden Snidgets breeding on the Greek border. It was a protected species, thanks to the archaic sport of Snidget-hunting, but its forced migration had led to some fascinating natural adaptions. Unusual creatures aside, there was something about Ana writing to her while under the same roof as Viktor's parents that made her feel self-conscious. Did they know the extent as to their friendship? Did they approve, or had they had the same uncertain reaction as Viktor? The need to know what impression Ana was giving to her parents of Viktor's girlfriend bothered her like an itch she just couldn't scratch. She supposed that she might ask, but delicacy and deception had never been her strong suit.

Along with her letter Ana had sent a collection of photos from her childhood home with the understanding that Hermione wouldn't share them with anyone beside their subject. Hermione held the three animated polaroid photos to her chest, checking to see the boys were occupied — Ron was too busy shovelling sausages to notice her suspect behaviour — and then glancing at each photograph in turn. The first was of a sullen, toddler-aged Viktor scowling at the camera from deep within a hole he'd dug at the beach; in the second a school-photo showcased a gangly Viktor who must've been on the brink of puberty, for he hadn't filled out yet; and the third was a recent formal photograph of Ana and Viktor at a dance, posing in their finest clothes and giving the camera a little wave. These were the types of photos Witch Weekly might've sold their wand-arm for, she brooded — not that she would've ever contemplated them leaving her sight. They provided a peek into Viktor's childhood, and not the one that had been carefully cultivated and approved for public viewing. A wave of affection for both Viktor and his sister surged inside her. Slipping the polaroids into her robes, Hermione flicked over the parchment to see what Ana had paper-clipped to it. It was an extract from the quarterly special of Seeker Weekly; it didn't appear remotely tempting in comparison.

From what Hermione could see, Ana had scattered notes across the page in her untidy, cramped scrawl. Ana's English was near flawless as ever, and upon closer inspection, Hermione realised that Viktor's sister had translated the paragraph of foreign text for her. It seemed to be from a wider biographical piece on the Luxembourg national Seeker, but the author had saw it fit to digress to provide comment on his Bulgarian counterpart.

It has long been presumed that Viktor Krum, the young Bulgarian sensation, would transfer to the Vratsa Vultures upon his graduation from Durmstrang Institute. His silence on the matter has led many amongst his faithful following to speculate that a shock move could be on the cards. Coach Stefan Kochev from Viktor's first ever team, the Montana Manticores, had to say this on the matter: Viktor will go where he pleases. Shut up and stop asking.

Could it be that something has swayed Mr Krum (Jr) onto a different path? It is rumoured that he now has a good luck charm for his endeavours on the pitch. Whilst gossip here at SW HQ is strictly kept to all things Quidditch, it's skipped no one's notice that the extremely private Bulgarian seeker has more than snitches on the mind nowadays. This might be the very thing that prizes him from his countrymen, something that only last year seemed an impossibility. This reporter wonders if the Wimbourne Wasps may well be the lucky recipient of the decorated seeker — if so, will you support the move?

Mr Krum is currently representing Durmstrang Institute in the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His family declined to comment.

She smothered her grin with the sleeve of her robes and pushed the paper across the table to Ginny. It might not have been clear exactly which bit Ana wanted her to know about, but Hermione knew one thing for certain: their relationship had gone international.

…

By the time the Ancient Runes class had been dismissed later that day, Valentin had undergone a serious grilling. It was Hermione's only opportunity in an otherwise Durmstrang-free timetable to pin him down and probe him for answers about Viktor's health (and not the rosy account her boyfriend gave her in his evening notes). Valentin had assured her that everything was peachy — he'd been gradually adopting more and more colloquialisms with varying success — and that Viktor was focusing on both his Quidditch training and his preparations for the final task. She supposed it was some kind of comfort that he was no longer confined to his cabin, for both their mental sake, but it did nothing to appease the restless part of her that wanted to see so for herself.

Now engaged in a furious to-and-fro about the merits of translating hieroglyphs v logograms, she and Valentin made their way down the moving staircases towards the entrance hall, barely aware of the smattering of students they passed en route to dinner. It was only when she heard a faint, whimsical voice that she instinctively threw out an arm to stop Valentin mid-stride. Dumbledore very rarely missed school meals, and he almost always showed his face at dinnertime, even only for the time it took him to beam at all four tables and enquire politely as to whether his staff had had a productive day.

'Have you goofed up?' Valentin said proudly, checking her expression for signs he'd used the term accurately. 'Why are we stopping?'

When Hermione didn't respond, he craned his head around the corner to find the source of her hesitancy. He reminded her of Harry at that moment; act first, ask questions later… and Viktor had always claimed his friend was the strategic, logical one. Valentin was more of a Duracell bunny in her mind, but his intellect was undeniable — when he was patient enough to employ it, that was.

'Shush,' She said tersely and shoved his arm aside to enable her to peek around him. The back of Dumbledore's voluminous purple robes were blocking his conversation partner from view, and whoever was important enough to draw him from his duties in the Great Hall was speaking so softly that it sounded like the gentle vibration of a bee's wings. Then — Dumbledore stepped aside and placed a hand on his guest's back in an amicable gesture.

''— A pleasure to have you back, Illian. You're always welcome —'

The person Dumbledore was escorting personally was none other than Viktor's father. What's more, there was a fondness in Dumbledore's expression that Hermione had come to associate with his interactions with Harry. There was no guesswork needed; Dumbledore and Krum Sr were acquaintances, likely even friends. Illian's hard features were softer than the last time she'd seen him, and his lips were moving imperceptibly as he responded.

The first and only time she'd encountered Mr Krum had been at the World Cup and there hadn't been much opportunity that evening to study Viktor's family beyond a quick once over. Up close, it was impossible to conclude that this wizard could be anything but Viktor's father. Despite the odd silver hair amongst his thick, black hair and a shadow of greying stubble that tempered his angular face, they shared an undeniable resemblance; that sharp, prominent nose, the rigid, powerful gait and a formidable gaze that was both perceptive and penetrating. Luckily for her, that astute stare was currently focused on Dumbledore and not her — although his body language intimated a wizard that was acutely aware of his surroundings.

With that thought in her head, Hermione shrank back behind Valentin, taking a steadying breath and half hoping that Dumbledore and Mr Krum would slip away when she wasn't looking. What did she have to be afraid of? Viktor's father might've cut a commanding figure in his velvet, sapphire suit, but he had been entirely cordial with her in his Easter note and Viktor had reassured her on more than one occasion that his parents would be easily taken with her. Nonetheless, that took nothing away from the fact that Viktor's father reminded her, in all but looks, of a combination of Professor Snape and Professor Moody. There was an air of Moody's paranoia in Krum Sr's stance, and the dark, predatory aura that defined their spiteful Potions Master. Could this be what Viktor would look like in the future? It was tough to imagine Viktor's boyish charms giving way to this man's intimidating nature, but maybe decades of chasing after the wizarding world's most nefarious individuals was all it would take. It had done some strange, irreparable things to Professor Moody, after all. He and Hermione hadn't spoken about what came after Quidditch, although a number of throwaway comments had led Hermione to believe Viktor would indeed follow in his father's footsteps.

'You've missed the worst of the bad weather,' Dumbledore said merrily as they passed the frozen figures of Hermione and Valentin. 'However, that son of yours is out there, rain or shine. Minerva reports that my students are quite taken with him and his flying skills.'

Valentin concealed a poorly timed snigger and Hermione promptly stood on his foot, shutting him up only just fast enough for Dumbledore and his guest to disappear without noticing their unsubtle eavesdroppers. If she'd had Harry's invisibility cloak she'd have considered trailing them, but she didn't fancy her chances against Viktor's father. When she was certain they were both out of earshot, she pinned Valentin to the wall with her best glare; the kind that had even Ron shrinking into subdued compliance. 'Neither of you mentioned that Viktor's Dad is friends with Dumbledore?'

However, Valentin looked as befuddled as her. 'Truth is, I didn't know,' Valentin said. 'I guess it does make sense. A few summers ago Illian said something about visiting a friend in London, someone high up in your Wizengamot. Apparently the chap—' He glanced at Hermione with a goofy grin. 'Wanted some guidance on an old diary, thought someone had cursed it.'

Hermione's mind began to race. While it was very hard to imagine Viktor's father and Dumbledore catching up over a butterbeer and discussing Tom Riddle's diary, the little, rational voice in her head pointed out that perhaps it wasn't such an outlandish stretch. Every mention of Illian Krum she'd come across thus far had alluded to his expertise in the dark arts, or, rather, combatting them. If Professor Dumbledore hadn't wanted to ruffle anymore feathers in the Ministry it would've been logical to reach out to a wizard the British Ministry wouldn't gamble with antagonising. Instead of sharing this with Valentin, she stored it in the 'to worry over later' section of her mind that she usually reserved for all matters to do with Harry.

'Weird,' was what Hermione actually said aloud, in an attempt to sound casual. She dusted herself down, noticing too late that her clothing was rather rumbled from plastering herself against the stonework. It was just as well she'd not been spotted — that first impression would've gone swimmingly: caught spying on her boyfriend's father red-handed and looking decidedly dishevelled.

She said a rather distracted goodbye to Valentin at the bottom of the marble staircase and shuffled towards the Great Hall, lost in her own thoughts. As she crossed the threshold and was hit with a wall of noise, her stomach tied itself into a disquieting knot, accompanied by a sinking sensation. She'd always had knack for spotting things others didn't, but she'd missed it this time. There was something about the way that Dumbledore had only mentioned Viktor at the exact point he'd stepped past Hermione that made her think he'd been wholly aware of who was watching him. It wouldn't be the first time a student had claimed Dumbledore had eyes in the back of his head. But what was the significance? And, above all else, why was Illian Krum treating Dumbledore with such warmth when his own son had just been attacked in the Headmaster's school grounds?

…

Three extraordinary things happened in the days that followed Mr Krum's visit to Hogwarts. In the wake of his departure, the twenty Durmstrang students returned to the castle, filing back into the Great Hall at mealtimes and marching through the corridors to their lessons as though nothing had happened. Hermione couldn't quite put her finger on it, but every single one of Viktor's schoolmates carried themselves slightly differently; where they had previously been at ease in the castle, mingling with the Hogwarts and Beauxbatons pupils, they now seemed more distant, and kept themselves to themselves. When Hermione finally found the right moment to ask Viktor about their wariness, he responded with an evasive 'Karkaroff is paranoid, so they are paranoid.'

Viktor never mentioned his father's little stopover and Hermione couldn't come up with a nonchalant way to drop it into conversation, particularly as Viktor had so patiently volunteered to test her with her revision cards instead of doing his own homework. As it did every year, the arrival of the exam season put a pause on (most) of Hermione's other concerns and the matter of Illian Krum's friendship with the Headmaster became almost trivial in comparison. That was, until Rita Skeeter decided to stir things up again.

Things had been almost suspiciously quiet on that front, and Hermione and Viktor had been especially careful not to mention anything incriminating or personal, not even in the usual privacy of their spot in the library — just in case Skeeter was lurking about. In spite of all their efforts, the reporter had still managed to get wind of Harry's fainting episode in Divination, and had renewed her efforts to drag his name through the mud. Harry Potter: Disturbed and Dangerous! Hermione flung the paper into the common room fire in a rage, cursing Rita Skeeter in all manner of colourful words. Harry and Ron exchanged an amused look, but decided (wisely) not to push her. They both knew she was still working feverishly to decipher how the reporter was getting insider information, but hadn't yet been successful. It was common knowledge that the frizzier Hermione's hair was, the more fruitless her library search had been — and Hermione's hair had been a real fright of late.

Most concerning of all, however, was that Rita Skeeter's interfering wasn't the most pressing matter Harry wanted to discuss. Skeeter's article was shoved aside as low priority compared to Harry's latest visit to the Headmaster's office. They hunched over the Marauders' Map in a quiet corner of the common room, whispering about what Harry had viewed in Dumbledore's pensieve.

'It makes total sense,' Hermione said curtly. 'Mr Bagman never did seem to want to hang around Skeeter longer than necessary. I just put it down to intense dislike, like the rest of us, but if she reported at his trial and knew he'd passed information to the Death Eaters… there's not many people that'd know that part of his history.'

'Yeah, but Bagman didn't pass on information purposely, did he? He's too much of a buffoon for that,' Ron replied incredulously, poking a finger at Professor Snape's name on the map — their Potions Master was haunting the fifth floor on his nightly rounds. 'Somethin's not right with Dumbledore trusting the slimy git, especially now it's confirmed he was a Death Eater.'

'Don't call him that!' Hermione snapped. 'Look, there must be a reason Dumbledore trusts Professor Snape, it's not for us to question him. Harry, didn't you say Viktor was talking to you about You-Know — fine, Voldemort — before he was attacked?'

Harry nodded. 'Yeah, he thought it was Snape who was after me.'

'Hasn't succeeded though, has he?' Ron grinned.

Hermione rolled her eyes and folded her arms with an exasperated sigh. 'We've been over that. Professor Snape's only keeping an eye on Viktor because he's Karkaroff's star student. He's the last person in this castle to give a damn about my relationship.'

Ron gave her a look that indicated he didn't really believe her, but wisely kept his mouth shut. 'More importantly, we've learnt that the Death Eaters identify themselves with those horrid marks,' She chewed on her lower lip in frustration. 'But if that's the case, how come Sirius didn't know about them?'

'Guess they kept it quiet during the trials after the first war,' Ron shrugged. 'Probably didn't want the Ministry to know in case You-Know-Who ever came back and they could slither back to his side.'

Hermione pursed her lips and sighed again. 'I can't put my finger on it, but I just know we're missing something here. Karkaroff running off to Professor Snape, the mark growing darker, Viktor's father coming here…'

'What?' Ron said sharply.

Hermione looked up guiltily; she hadn't intended to say that one aloud, especially not when she'd been unable to work things out for herself first. 'I'm sure it's nothing, really, but Viktor's father visited Dumbledore last week. I saw them talking. They seemed quite… close, actually. And Valentin said they've had meetings in the past.'

'Sirius was dead convinced about him being a good guy, though,' Ron said, watching her closely. 'And aside from Snape, we don't know of Dumbledore inviting the enemy onto school grounds.'

It wouldn't have been the first time Professor Dumbledore had made some questionable choices about his staff and visitors. However, it didn't seem the right moment to mention Professor Quirrell, and Gilderoy Lockhart hadn't been that dangerous.

'Unless you count Karkaroff,' Harry added.

'I don't think he's actually evil,' Hermione pointed out. 'Viktor says the Durmstrang lot hardly see him nowadays. Spends all his time in his cabin, muttering to himself, smashing things and drinking.'

'Yeah, well,' Ron sniffed. 'Regrets joining You-Know-Who's band of merry followers, does he? Should've thought a bit harder before he signed up then.'

Hermione gave him a withering look. 'The fact remains, Ronald, that if Karkaroff isn't the enemy here, then someone else wanted Harry to compete. And I'm worried about the final task, something's coming, Harry, and I'm scared it's bigger than anything you — we've — faced before.'

'Bet you don't say that to your boyfriend,' Ron said with an indignant snort, throwing himself back into the cushioned armchair.

'My boyfriend isn't Harry Potter!' Hermione said through gritted teeth.

'Well,' Harry said cheerfully. 'Thank god for small mercies.'

…

No one amongst the Gryffindors mentioned Rita Skeeter's article that night, nor the next. Harry had confided in Hermione that he hoped they'd had enough of her vindictive rumours, but as they looked over at the sneering faces of the Slytherin's at breakfast on the morning of the final task, they knew it was wishful thinking.

Malfoy was leering at Harry, waggling his tongue like a snake and clutching his head in a theatrical reenactment. At his side Crabbe and Goyle sniggered trollishly.

'Really!' Hermione said hotly. 'She's gone too far this time!'

Harry made a noncommittal, dejected sound and started to ladle porridge into the bowl in front of him.

'But you were all the way at the top of the North Tower! I just can't understand how she's doing this! First she catches wind of what Viktor and I were… doing, and now she's actually invading our lessons in person to get gossip?' She shrieked angrily as Malfoy fell off the Slytherin bench in a mock faint. 'This is outrageous!'

'Well, you're the one who's supposed to be researching magical methods of bugging!' Harry bit back. 'You tell me how she did it!'

'I've been trying,' Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, more in frustration at herself than Harry's accusation. 'After Moody told me she wasn't hanging around in an invisibility cloak I assumed she was bribing some of the Slytherins, but that's where I get unstuck. They weren't in your Divination class, and they weren't spying on Viktor and I…' She added, a little uncertainly. 'At least not that I know of.'

'But one thing I do know, Harry,' She squeezed his wrist. 'I'm going to get her once tonight's over.'

…

Viktor was doing his best not to listen to the hushed conversation that was going on next to him at the breakfast table between Hermione, Harry and Ron. Examining his fingernails as a way of demonstrating indifference was a skill Viktor had learnt at an early age, even though it had, more often than not, landed him a reputation for insolence. On this occasion, he'd stepped in only when Malfoy and his half-witted goons had tried to goad Harry into reacting to their taunts about Rita Skeeter's latest attempt at slander. It seemed Viktor's veiled threat from the time of Skeeter's last attack was still working its magic on the Slytherins — none of them wanted to meet his furious gaze. Midway through imagining himself trying out the hexes he'd acquired recently, Hermione gasped so loudly he couldn't help but look over.

'I've had an idea!' She exclaimed, shifting Viktor's focus from the three Slytherins who were now nervously picking invisible lint from their school robes to avoid his glares. 'Viktor!' He took that as invitation to listen in once more. 'I think I've worked it out — how Rita Skeeter's been spying on us. That vindictive bitch!' There was his firecracker. 'Yes! But she's not allowed… definitely not! I've just got to go to the library — just to make sure!'

She seized her schoolbag, dashed halfway to the door before turning back to kiss Viktor on the check, and then darted out of the Great Hall. Harry, Ron and Viktor were left staring as though she'd apparated mid-sentence.

'Well, that's that. She's officially gone barmy,' Ron said cheerfully, spearing another sausage. 'Reckon the exam stress has finally scrambled her brains?'

'Probably,' Harry agreed.

Viktor thought it best not to comment — he muttered his 'good luck' under his breath at the empty space that only a few moments ago had contained his girlfriend. She was a powerhouse when she set her mind to something, but he did wish she wouldn't talk in riddles.

'Oi!' Ron said a moment later. 'Y'know, we've got our bloody History of Magic exam in ten minutes! She must really hate that Skeeter woman to risk missing the start!'

'She'll make it,' Harry said rather glumly.

'Right. Anyway, what are you gonna do during Binns' class?' Ron prompted, twisting his body to look at Harry head on.

'Read, I s'pose,' Harry said to him, but, at that moment Professor McGonagall paused her appraisal of the Gryffindor table to address both Harry and Viktor.

'Gentleman, the champions are to congregate in the chamber of the Hall after breakfast,' She said, giving Viktor a tight-lipped, unreadable look.

'But the task isn't until tonight!' Harry said, panic creeping across his already unusually pale features.

'I am aware of that,' She said crisply. 'The champions' families are invited to watch the final. They are already waiting, so don't dawdle.'

This came as no real surprise to Viktor, but he hadn't expected to see his parents and Ana so soon in the day. His last correspondence with his mother had suggested they'd be arriving by specially-arranged Floo into the Headmaster's office later that afternoon. He supposed his mother was already gracefully acquainting herself with Cedric and Fleur's families… but what about Harry? He didn't suppose his muggle relations would've made the effort, not if they were truly anything like the description Hermione had given.

'Good luck,' Viktor tried again when Ron got up to leave. 'For your exam.'

'Um, cheers.' Ron said. The gangly teenager gave him an awkward nod and said his goodbyes.

They finished their breakfast in anxious silence. Harry's eyes flitted to Fleur and Cedric as they left their respective tables and made their way to the side chamber, an expression of mixed apprehension and resignation on his face.

'We shall join them?' Viktor asked, sipping the last of his long-cooled green tea.

'Er — perhaps you should just go ahead,' Harry said quickly. 'I think I'll stay here.'

Hermione had shared glimpses of Harry's upbringing with Viktor, including that of the oppressive muggles who'd raised him. Viktor hadn't wanted to ask too many questions; it wasn't his place to use his ties to Hermione to gleam details about the young Boy-Who-Lived. Nevertheless, it didn't sit right with him to leave Harry there when he was certain of a warm welcome from his own family. Viktor hauled himself to his feet and tried to find the right words.

'It would be… cool, if you came with me. I would very much like to introduce you to my family. I haff told my father all about your flying.'

Did that sound patronising? He hoped not. That aside, Viktor had made a passing comment about Harry's talent, but his father hadn't spared more than a brief acknowledgement, and Viktor definitely hadn't mentioned the close call they'd both had that evening in February. Nonetheless, it didn't take a genius to recognise that Harry thought no one had come for him. If that was the case, Viktor wasn't about to abandon him to stew over it.

But, just as Harry started to mumble another excuse, Cedric poked his head out from the side chamber.

'Come on, both of you, they're waiting!'

Viktor shrugged and followed a perplexed Harry across the Hall and into the chamber. Viktor's parents were stood in the far corner of the room and Ana was politely conversing with Fleur and her mother. Someone had come for Harry — two someones in fact. Viktor met the narrow-eyes of Ronald Weasley's mother and flashed her an uncertain smile. The reception he got from (yet another) Weasley sibling was far warmer, and Bill — as he introduced himself — even shook his hand and belatedly congratulated him on his selection as Champion.

'Mother, Father,' He greeted his mother with a peck on each cheek, and offered his father a firm handshake. 'Welcome to Hogwarts… again.' He shot his father a knowing look, but the wizard gave no indication that he knew what Viktor was referring to. If he'd admitted it, unlikely as it was, Viktor would've thanked him. His father was the reason Professor Karkaroff had loosened his grip on his students. He'd also barricaded himself into his cabin, but that was an altogether different issue (that Viktor found he didn't care much for).

'Viktor, your hair!' His mother broke the tension by pulling him into a hug that crushed the wind from his lungs. It was the same every time they saw him, which, admittedly, was a lot less often than a normal seventeen year old was used to. She would fuss over his mop of hair, even though he insisted he'd visited the school matron or let someone on the team tidy him up a bit, and then go to town on untidy appearance. Nevertheless, it seemed to comfort his mother to be able to nag him as she might a son that was around more often.

'Now, show me that head injury of yours. I want to check Igor didn't make a dog's dinner of your care.' She began to mutter under her breath, parting his hair and searching for the wound that had long healed. It was no more than a tender spot now. 'Imagine forbidding my only son to visit a proper healer, no one in their right mind would do such a thing. I should have sent Illian to sort him out, the old fool.'

Viktor grinned at his mother and allowed himself to be treated as a patient. Not only was it an easier life, but no one else dared address Professor Karkaroff like that. Illian said nothing, but his mouth did threaten to curl into a small smile when Viktor's mother moved onto her familiar (and disapproving) assessment of his poor posture. Stand up taller. Stop slouching. I despair, Viktor!

'Hey, little brother,' Ana had wandered back from whatever odd exchange had been going on between her and Fleur. 'This place is wonderful! You've been holding out on me; you never even mentioned that incredible bewitched ceiling!'

Viktor smirked and received a tut of agreement from his mother. 'Sorry, Ani, you should've asked Hermione for those details if you wanted more than a it's nice here.'

It was the invitation his mother had obviously been waiting for. With Hermione's name in the open, and apparently fair game, his mother began on the interrogation she'd been seemingly withholding for months. The questions were close to a verbal assault and his father and Ani simply stood by, sniggering as Viktor squirmed under his mother's rapid fire cross-examination. He spotted Harry glancing in their direction every time Hermione's name was mentioned amongst a flurry of Bulgarian and he managed to appear both amused and sympathetic.

'Am I to assume you haven't arranged for us to meet her?' Sofija looked to her husband for support. 'Our son has been dating this witch for almost a year and we haven't yet met her. I despair!'

'There hasn't been an opportunity, mother.' He pointed out, but it fell on deaf ears. Ani nudged him innocently and mused aloud whether Viktor could've at least sent a photo.

'Exactly, darling, not even a photo.'

'Father even refused to look her up on the system.' Ana said with an angelic expression.

'She wouldn't be on it!' Viktor snapped, an uncharacteristic rage coming over him. 'You know — well, you know the circumstances of her birth.'

There was a tense silence. He knew he was probably making more of a thing out of it than his parents, who'd not once mentioned Hermione's magical bloodline (or lack thereof), but he felt defensive for her. He'd never known prejudice because of his family name, and seeing Hermione's struggles had opened his eyes to a side of his own world that he didn't much approve of. They had another think coming if they believed he'd sit passively and let them judge her for being muggle born.

At long last, his father spoke.

'What you sister intended to say, Viktor, is that we were awaiting the opportunity to discover her charms in person.'

'Never afforded me that honour.' Ana sniffed, audible only to Viktor.

The incidents with Ana's boyfriends over the years were a mystery to all but their father. Viktor had always suspected Illian had completed background checks of sorts on Ana's romantic interests and found none of them to be adequate for his first and only daughter. It still surprised him that anyone had bothered in the first place: it was a secret to no one in Bulgaria who her father was. So, it seemed his parents were treating his relationship with Hermione very delicately indeed — most likely at the insistence of his mother. His mouth was suddenly dry, and he didn't know what to say.

'Erm, fine. How about a tour then?' He changed the subject in a hurry. 'Ana, you have to see the library!'

…

In the end, Viktor had an enjoyable morning showing his family around Hogwarts. The sun had made an appearance shortly after they'd set out on a walk around the grounds and had warmed the air to a pleasant temperature — so much so that Viktor ditched his robes and favoured his Vratsa Vultures t-shirt instead.

His mother and sister had been hypnotised by every inch of the school and had peppered him with questions that he realised, with a mildly shameful feeling, that he could only answer about fifty percent of. Hermione had lent him a copy of Hogwarts: A History when he'd first arrived, and quoted it almost daily, but he'd never expected to be tested on it. He was just considering that Hermione probably should've given the tour and not him, when that very witch caught his eye. She, along with Ron, Harry and Weasley's family were gathered in a circle in front of the main doors.

The rational part of his mind knew it was the perfect opportunity to introduce her to his parents, not just because Ana had spent the last hour bugging him to slide past the exam hall so she could get a good look at her, but because it would alleviate any awkwardness later if she bumped into them by the maze. His parents might have no clue what Hermione looked like, but Ana was far more clued up on his girlfriend than was acceptable. So, why did he still feel like bolting in the other direction? In his (limited) experience, this kind of thing went down better without an audience, but neither he nor Hermione were typical when it came to social etiquette. It was as good a chance as any. He met Hermione's gaze again and watched as her relaxed demeanour became that of a deer in the headlights; her eyes bulged and she dug her fingers into Ron's wrist.

'Viktor?' He heard his mother faintly admiring the Whomping Willow before noticing his distracted behaviour. 'Is there a problem, darling?'

'Erm,' Viktor cleared his throat, attempting to dislodge the lump that had materialised the moment he'd seen Hermione. 'There's someone I'd like you to meet.'

He beckoned Hermione over with a reassuring wave and his best attempt at an optimistic smile. There was no way he could steer his parents away from her now, so he'd just have to stand tall and get on with it. She'd meet them this summer anyway, and if his training schedule was anything to go by, she might be spending a fair amount of time alone with his mother, so it would help to get a head-start.

Sofija Krum's eyes were alert and eager as all three of them watched Hermione approach. She was visibly trembling and playing with an errant curl: one of her nervous ticks. He wanted to promise her she had nothing to worry about — just be yourself — but who knew what was about to come out of his mother's mouth.

Viktor stepped forward to intercept Hermione, stroking her cheek in a quick, affectionate motion and resting his palm on the small of her back. She glued herself to his side subconsciously and he could feel her shiver despite the warmth of the early summer sunshine.

'Mother, father, Ani, this is Hermione Granger,' Hermione was now so stiff against him that he seriously doubted she'd taken a breath in the last few seconds. 'My girlfriend.'

'Darling, it is a pleasure,' His mother glided forward, and, to both their surprise, embraced Hermione. 'How lovely it is to finally meet you.'

Ana needed no other encouragement. Once her mother had broken contact she skipped forward and squeezed Hermione — this hug his girlfriend returned with stunned enthusiasm, a shy smile dancing across her face. Ana might usually be a bit of a bulldozer in social situations, but Viktor was grateful for her at that moment.

'Likewise,' Hermione said faintly in response. 'H-how do you like Hogwarts?'

'It's a delight,' His mother replied. 'Quite unlike the formality of my own schooling. I broke with tradition, you must understand. I was a Beauxbatons witch; Hogwarts is far more quaint and homely than our Headmistress claimed it to be.'

'Was Madame Maxine your Headmistress?' Hermione said, standing a little taller.

Viktor's mother laughed. 'No, darling, but thank you for the compliment. I'm some years before her time, Madam Maxine is a… new addition.'

'Right,'

'Have you met Professor Dumbledore?' Hermione's voice was stronger and clearer, and Viktor glanced at her curiously. There was that look of defiant inquisitiveness on her face that indicated there was a very good reason to her line of inquiry.

'Albus is an old family friend.' Viktor felt Hermione flinch as Viktor's father spoke for the first time. His father might have a stronger accent than him, he'd spent his childhood in the mountains and never had managed to shift that lilt when he spoke English, but Viktor had never considered it harsh. Unless… Hermione knew. There were few who weren't aware of Albus Dumbledore's relationship with Grindelwald and his liaison with the eastern European ministries thereafter, but Hermione might've been too young — or she'd never come across it in her books, unlikely as that was.

'My country owes Dumbledore a lot,' Viktor said warily, avoiding his father's stern expression. 'My grandfather… knew him.'

He could see that Hermione wanted to ask questions, but he pressed his hand more firmly into her back, encouraging her to tread carefully. Even after almost eighteen years, Viktor didn't always know how his father might react to certain topics, particularly those of the more somber persuasion.

'Indeed, a story that I'm sure we'll be able to share with you over afternoon tea this summer,' His mother said gently. 'I wonder, perhaps, if you may have some time before lunch to show us the castle from your perspective, Hermione?'

Viktor could've kissed his mother there and then. She always had managed to get a good read on people, and it had only taken her a moments to suss out a good way to ease Hermione's nerves and shift them onto a more pleasant thread of conversation.

'Oh! Absolutely!' Colour flooded back into Hermione's face and as they made their way back up to the entrance hall she began to regale Viktor's family with the history of the school, beginning with the Founders and their cherished values. Both his mother and sister hang on her every word, whilst his father remained in his pensive silence at Viktor's side.

'So… what do you think?' Viktor ventured, not looking away from the women in front of them.

'She is strong.'

'What? Sorry, I mean, in what way? She's a powerful witch, I already know that.' Viktor said. He glanced up at his father then and found him smiling at him — a rare occurrence indeed. Their bond over Viktor's younger years had formed through physical activity and mutual hobbies, not so much words. His father said very little, and when he did, people tended to sit up and listen.

'She has a formidable mind, does she not?'

'Yeah, she's the most intelligent witch I've ever met. But how did you know that?' Viktor said slowly, eyeing his father with an air of suspicion. He wouldn't have put it past him to research Hermione's exam transcripts, but he wasn't referring to her academic accomplishments, that sort of intelligence had never bothered Illian.

'It's in her eyes,' His father said simply.

Knowing he wouldn't get anything further from his father, Viktor returned to his own brooding. After Hermione had finished pointing out some of the more curious portraits, she guided his family towards the Great Hall for lunch. Viktor's stomach lurched as he realised the time — the only thing standing between him and the final task was a lunch he'd barely touch. He'd been so caught up in poodling around with his parents, pretending to be a normal teenager, that he'd forgone the time for his usual pre-game (and subsequently pre-task) ritual. He could practically feel the excess adrenaline flooding his veins.

'Are you sure you didn't use a love potion on her?' Ana asked him mildly as they sat down at the Gryffindor table.

'Why?'

'No reason.'

Viktor narrowed his eyes at his sister but was momentarily distracted by his mother decorating Valentin's cheeks in her lipstick, gushing over him as though he were her second son. Valentin grinned at him and lapped up the attention, lavishing Sofija with his exaggerated compliments and earning himself a swot over the back over the head my his father. At least some things hadn't changed.

'Viktor, dear, Albus has invited us to dine with him,' His mother ducked down to whisper in her ear, conscious almost every eye in the Great Hall was on their foreign guests — except for those indiscreetly gawping at Fleur's mother. 'Your father has some matters to attend to with the Headmaster, you don't mind do you?'

He shook his head and returned his attention to Hermione as his parent's made their way up to the dais and along the staff table.

The lunch hour passed in no time at all. Viktor nervously picked at his food while Hermione chatted away with Mrs Weasley, her feet tangled around his calves in her silent attempt to channel calmness his way. Bill had been thrilled to have the opportunity to tease Viktor and Hermione about their relationship, particularly as he'd been one of the very first to know, but he'd taken one look at Viktor's ashen face and steered clear of that topic. However, Viktor had been thankful for Bill complimentary chitchat about the World Cup, namely for the reminder that Viktor did have some strengths, and that he could — just about — cope with what was coming. After he'd publicly thanked him for the autograph, Viktor had spent the following fifteen minutes dishing out signed bits of spare parchment to three quarters of the Gryffindor table, including both Ron and Harry (much to Hermione's ire).

At long last, as the enchanted ceiling faded from blue to a dusky purple, Dumbledore rose to his feet beside Viktor's parents, and silence fell over the four tables. Viktor's heart thumped painfully in his chest, and Hermione reached out for his hand with a breathy squeak.

'Ladies, gentleman, esteemed guests, in five minutes' time, I will be asking you to head down to our Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Tonight it will meet its conclusion and we shall crown our winner. Please, will the champions now follow Mr. Bagman down the stadium for your final instructions.'

Viktor hadn't even felt this sick before the World Cup final. He searched for the last fragments of his confidence and forced himself into an upright position. Hermione was still holding onto his hand, her trembling fingers digging into his knuckles.

'Find my parents,' He whispered to her. 'And I will try to look out for Harry.'

Waiting for his fellow champions, Viktor fixed his eyes on the door and marched towards his fate.

A/N: I really struggled with this chapter. I don't know if it was a result of the stress and exhaustion of this week, but I just had awful writer's block. I hope it's still as enjoyable for you all. One more chapter to go, I reckon, but Vol III comes to a close. It's time for Voldy's return!

For the eagle-eyed of my readers, you may have noticed the word count has fluctuated. In an effort to combat my writer's block I went back and made a start on editing and fleshing out the earlier chapters of this story, taking what used to be 3K words to approx 5/6k for each. If you've not re-read this in a while you may find it's a bit different!