Wow - thank you all for the love and support for the last chapter. It still blows my mind that we've gotten to this point. I appreciate the well wishes for my children — they're both a bit brighter, but still many a sleepless, tearful nights in my household! Anyway, without further ado, the last chapter in Vol II.

Mature rated for a bit of bad language.

As Viktor walked to the Quidditch field with Fleur, Cedric and Harry his mind stumbled over all the hexes and spells he'd been learning over the last few weeks, practicing their incantations over and over; it was reassuring to know he could remember them all and, what's more, he felt as prepared as he could be to cast them when the time came.

If he'd not known that the location of the final task had once been a stadium, he would've never guessed it. They all approached it at a slower than usual pace, but only Harry and Cedric made an audible remark at how unrecognisable it was. An impressive twenty-foot-high hedge acted as a border all the way around the edge of what had once been a sizeable school playing field. The passage that led into the vast maze was dark and ominous — the entrance, he realised. An involuntary shudder rippled down his spine and he focused on his shallows breaths.

The champions waited restlessly as the stands around them began to fill; in a mere five minutes they were full to brim, the air electric with excited voices and the thunderous sound of feet as everyone made their way to the seats.

'You are feeling confident?' Viktor murmured to Harry, not taking his eyes off the patch of sky he was scrutinising to quell his rolling his stomach. 'Hermione says you haff been preparing for this for weeks.'

'Yeah,' Harry said meekly. Viktor glanced down at him then and saw he was an unnatural shade of green, but didn't press the matter. He didn't like others drawing attention to his nerves, and Harry seemed just as proud as he was. Viktor tapped him on the shoulder with a clenched fist — a 'reassuring' gesture he'd learnt from Vasily — but succeeded only in jolting Harry's tense body and startling him further.

Smiling apologetically, Viktor formed a circle with the rest of the opponents as instructed by Ludo Bagman. He ran his clammy palms over his thighs, creasing the slightly damp material of his shorts and succeeding only in making them stick to him further. An assortment of Hogwarts' Professors crowded around them then, only two of which he knew on a second name basis. He realised, somewhat dispassionately, that his Highmaster hadn't bothered to locate him and give him his best, but then, they both knew this tournament was no longer about winning. For Karkaroff it was a matter of survival, and for Viktor… he just wanted to do himself justice. He'd wanted Harry to win for a number of months now, a realisation that had been exceptionally humbling, although he wasn't used to being second best. For the entirety of his career everything had been about being the best — being number one — and he'd had his fair share of uncompromising coaches that tolerated nothing but perfection.

Professor McGonagall, her hat now decorated with glittering, scarlet stars, pursed her lips and addressed them all in a stern voice that held a subtle hint of a warning. 'We shall be patrolling the maze while you are in there,' She eyed them all in turn. 'If any one of you finds yourself in difficulty and wishes to be rescued, you need only send red sparks into the air, and someone will come and fetch you,' Viktor nodded numbly. 'Do you all understand?' She added sharply and they all chorused a quiet 'yes!'.

'Good luck,' He turned and shook hands with each of the champions, lingering with Harry's hand in his own as though silently trying to transfer some of his own courage. His ears were ringing and, as Ludo Bagman announced each champion, the sound of applause was only a dull hum in the distance. He swallowed thickly and mopped his brow with the back of his hand.

Viktor had just enough time to peer up into the stands to seek out his own personal supporters before Bagman gave a short blast on his whistle, inviting Harry and Cedric to scuttle forward into the maze. The crowd was an anonymous mass of clapping hands and animated faces, but he'd spent nearly half his lifetime trying to pick out familiar faces in audiences larger than this. His gaze settled on his parents, sister and Valentin, all on their feet and cheering him on. However, it was the sight of one person in particular that managed to steel his nerves and lessen the pounding in his head — Hermione was at Ana's side, bumping shoulders with Ron as she waved a Bulgarian National Squad scarf as high in the air as she could manage. Her curls were buoyant as she jumped up and down, shaking the thing as if her life depended on it. Around her neck was her own Gryffindor scarf — a symbol of support that once might've made Viktor jealous — and she was wearing his jersey despite the muggy weather. It made him feel invincible. If this was the kind of support he could expect at his future matches he'd never waste another moment worrying, he reflected.

With a resolute nod, he stared down the entrance to the maze, awaiting the second blast of Bagman's whistle. It sounded a moment later and Viktor dashed forward, his teeth gritted in determination and his wand outstretched steadily in front of him. Bring it on.

…

Using his wand as a compass, Viktor navigated the empty path ahead of him, finding his way unblocked for three consecutive forks. However, as he came to the forth, his luck ran out. Thanks to his wand-light and the bright, flickering stars above, Viktor could make out the terrifying shape of what could only be a monster — it was ten feet long and covered in a thick, scaly armour. This was no monster that Viktor had ever come across in a textbook, nor anything he'd ever heard Ana speak about, and she had a penchant for zoological horrors of the natural world. He memorised the shape of the Scorpion-hybrid creature to verify with her later, eyeing its long, bulbous stinger warily.

Taking a deep breath, Viktor pointed his wand directly at it's fleshy underside and shouted, 'confringo!'. He threw himself to the floor belly first, just in time to avoid being covered in a shower of foul-smelling, viscous liquid to which he most definitely wasn't going to spare a second glance (if he intended to keep his food down).

Viktor didn't hang around. He set off at a run, letting his gut indistinct take over as he turned right, then left, and then right again. His wand was taking him northwards, towards the centre of the maze, and he trusted it completely — it wasn't like he had much choice, anyway. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears as he sprinted down path after path, each looking as similar as the one that had come before it.

Viktor was beginning to panic now, his frantic attempts to convince himself that he was okay falling on his own deaf ears. He'd nearly ploughed straight into two solid hedges when he found himself facing dead ends, and it felt like he was only getting more lost. To make matters worse, he'd had the unearthly feeling that someone was watching him for the last ten minutes, and, on one occasion, he could've sworn he'd seen a human eye glinting at him from the shadows. Fuck, Viktor. Chill out. Imagine it's the snitch at the middle of the maze. This is just another match. What the shitting merlin was that?

A prickling sensation had broke out over the back of his clammy neck — something was behind him. Viktor swallowed nervously and, holding his breath, shuffled his body around to confront it.

All of a sudden, Viktor's body was flooded with a floating sensation that licked against his skin and mind as though he were being kissed by flames, without any of the heat. The stress, anxiety and fear of the evening were washed away with a gentle stroke, leaving nothing but a feeling of immense relaxation and contentedness. He was blissfully unaware of the towering hedges surrounding him that had, only a moment ago, felt as if they were suffocating him. He blinked his heavy, drooping eyelids and exhaled slowly.

There was a voice in his head now, echoing somewhere in a distant part of his brain: Eliminate the others. Use your darkness. Eliminate the threat.

Viktor's body stiffened and he whipped his wand out in an offensive stance, his eyes scanning the adjoining pathways for whoever this enemy was. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins now; the intoxicating, overwhelming drug that enticed him to do more reckless, impulsive things on the Quidditch pitch, and fuelled his ferocious duelling matches with Valentin.

Eliminate the others.

The need to obey was all encompassing. It was a seductive, dangerous need and he wanted above all else to please the voice. He was only vaguely aware of his legs moving, taking him down a path he hadn't yet tread, listening for any hint of company. With a cold thrill that spread across his entire body, Viktor spotted a figure that made the voice speak again — this time more insistent. His gaze fixed greedily on a trembling Fleur who was staring at him with wide, pleading eyes. He didn't hesitate.

'Stupefy!' His voice was lazy, detached even. Fleur's scream rattled his brain and, as she fell to the flood with a hollow thud, a second voice awoke in the back of his mind. It was Hermione's.

Viktor, that was barbaric! What are you doing?

Eliminate the others.

Viktor! You don't want to do this.

Eliminate the others.

The first voice was barely a whisper, but it consumed him. His feet were moving of their own accord, searching, seeking, hoping. He broke out into a jog — the borders of the maze were rushing past him now and it were as if he was looking through another's eyes. The voice spoke again, urging him on, sending another burst of intoxicating adrenaline through his system. He had to obey. He needed to obey. He desired to obey.

'Watch out!' He collided with Cedric at full speed, throwing both wizards backwards onto the grass. Cedric skidded to a halt, stopped by the a dense tangle of branches, and scrambled to his feet, wand outstretched.

Viktor rose as though a wire was connected to his limbs and someone else, the puppet master, were controlling his every movement. Without a word, he extended his wand and directed it at the bewildered crease in Cedric's brow.

Do it. Eliminate him.

A darkness within Viktor that had laid dormant since birth roused its weary head. He could do it — he knew he could. This darkness was sensuous and alluring: Viktor wanted to embrace it. His magic was mingling with another's, and it was caressing him, tempting him, coaxing him. It would only take one little spell.

'What the hell d'you think you're doing?' Cedric yelled. Viktor was only faintly aware of the flick of his wand as he replied.

'Crucio!'

Yes! Yes! Eliminate him!

Viktor's wand shook in his grasp; the knuckles on his left hand were going white, but he held on, forcing his darkness, their darkness, into the spell. Hermione's voice was now nothing but a single-pitch scream in the recesses of his mind, begging him wordlessly to stop, to find it within himself and his goodness to resist. But it felt so exhilarating. The darkness was invading him, corrupting him, and making him feel oh so powerful. Viktor blinked. His teeth were chattering and his left bicep was throbbing in pain. It was him — he'd dug his nails so deeply into the flesh that he'd drawn blood. Viktor blinked again, clearing his clouded vision. His surroundings returned to focus as though someone had switched on the lights.

Cedric was screaming… and it was his wand, his curse that was forcing those terrible, haunting cries from the younger wizard's mouth. His stomach rolled with a sudden, overwhelming explosion of nausea and he gagged. This was what his father had always warned him of: toeing the line between the light and dark, and giving in to the wrong side.

Viktor dropped his wand to the floor and stumbled numbly over to the twitching, jerking body of Cedric. The boy's eyelids were peeled back and he was convulsing, his teeth ground into his lip as he fought the screams. Viktor had done this. The euphoria had faded to a numbness and hot tears were spilling down his scratched, dirty face.

Before he could decide what to do next — forfeit his place? call for help? — there was a rustling behind him and a loud bang as someone blasted their way through the thick brambles and branches to the pathway where Viktor and Cedric were.

Viktor turned and met Harry's horrified expression.

'I'm sorry,' He whispered, but his mouth was so dry it came out as nothing more than a rasping breath.

Harry took one look at Cedric's prostrate body, pointed his wand at Viktor and cried, 'Stupefy!'

The spell hit Viktor in the chest and he fell forward, crashing face first into the grass. The last thought he had before everything went black was that he had let everyone down.

…

Hermione had been awaiting the second set of red sparks from the moment Professor McGonagall had apparated to the maze's entrance carrying Fleur's motionless form. She wasn't sure who she was more worried for; Harry was vulnerable and oftentimes carelessly brave, but the idea of seeing Viktor injured again made her dizzy with panic. It would take something very powerful to take out Viktor, and she feared whatever opponent housed within the maze that could match and overpower him.

It was Professor Snape this time who vanished into the thick mass of trees to recover the distressed party. He appeared only a minute later, Viktor's limp body draped over a stretcher floating at his side. Viktor's skin was ashen and from her position high in the stands, she could see his glassy eyes and inscrutable expression. He'd been stunned.

Hermione jumped from her seat with a piercing scream, unable to control the wailing sound that escaped her lips. Ana's arms were around her in an instant and she dug her fingers into Hermione's shoulder, grounding her to floor. At her other side Ron's entire body had spasmed as though he'd suffered an electric shock, but his instinctive movement to grab Hermione's hand was reassuring and starling in equal measures.

'We must stay here,' Ana said urgently, although her face mirrored the dismay that Hermione felt. 'My mother and father will go to him.'

And, sure enough, Illian and Sofija Krum were already sprinting down the steps towards their son. Viktor's mother had gathered her robes around herself and her wand was already out, mumbling what Hermione could only assume were self-soothing words or diagnostic spells, she wasn't sure. Mr Krum touched his son's cheek briefly in a surprisingly tender gesture before rounding on Professor Snape, his lips curled back over his teeth as though he were about to attack, and beginning to exchange a furious flurry of words with the Hogwarts Potions Master. The Durmstrang Highmaster lingered on the edge of the tense scene, seemingly unsure whether to dash while he had the chance, or wade in on the near indecipherable argument.

Viktor's mother clutched Viktor's palm in hers, the other hand elegantly and effortlessly casting an array of spells Hermione recognised from her time with Healer Thomas. If she'd not been so focused on the pain etched on Viktor's face she would've appreciated the mastery of Sofija's actions — nothing much mattered at that moment beyond Viktor. Madame Pomfrey bustled over, but Sofija Krum was all but ignoring the usually commanding matron, her attention fixed solely on her son. Hermione's entire body itched with the need to rush to his side, to make herself useful or to throw her arms around him and beg for him to say it was all a bad joke.

The crowd had fallen silent and the atmosphere was thick with apprehension and fear. There had been an air of resignation when Fleur had been knocked out, as though it was expected, but now that Viktor had suffered a similar fate, the sense of foreboding was palpable. Professor Dumbledore had appeared out of thin air and was attempting, somewhat ineffectually, to calm down Viktor's father and Professor Snape. Over the years Hermione had seen glimpses of the formidable wizard that it was claimed even Voldemort feared, but right now Dumbledore's emotions betrayed an anguish that amplified her own dread. Something was terribly wrong. Maybe not with Viktor, but something had not gone to plan.

'They're taking him up to the castle,' She murmured to herself, unaware she'd said it aloud until Ana squeezed her. 'He'll be okay, won't he?' She added in a small voice.

'Yes,' Ana replied.

'We've got you, Hermione,' Ron whispered. 'Bill thinks he's copped a real bad stunner, but they'll Ennervate him up at the hospital wing to be sure. He's in good hands.'

'Right.'

Hermione glanced up at her best friend, tears now dribbling down her cheeks. He gave her a slightly shaky smile and tightened his grip on her hand.

'And Harry will be fine, he always is.'

…

Viktor recalled very little of the hours that followed his retrieval from the maze. For the snatches of time that he was awake, at first to give a fractured statement to Dumbledore and the British Minister for Magic, and then again to have his vitals checked, Viktor felt only one thing — that same numbness that had come on the moment he severed the link with his inner darkness. He slept dreamlessly for the rest of the time, aided by a draught the Hogwarts matron provided him.

The next time he awoke his mother was talking softly to Ana at his bedside. Viktor attempted to prop himself up against his cushion, but was dimly conscious of a stiffness in his torso that made it too tough to bare. He groaned.

'Stay still, darling,' His mother fussed over his bed sheets, gently brushing his hair back from his forehead to test his temperature with the back of her hand. She must've been concerned if she was resorting to muggle methods, he realised. 'How do you feel?'

'I feel… nothing,' He said, his voice still sounding detached from his own body.

'Your father says that is quite normal,' His mother paused, glancing delicately at Ana. 'After one casts an unforgivable.'

Viktor's entire body twitched and he hung his head, unable to meet their gaze. 'You know?' He wanted to feel ashamed, it was exactly what he deserved, but he was incapable of anything but a forlorn kind of emptiness.

'Their Minister cast Prior Incantato with your wand. Your father has only just succeeded in convincing them of your innocence, the fools that they are. It's just another prejudice against Durmstrang that they would even consider it to have been a voluntary action,' She explained evenly, although there was an attempt at humour in her tone. She sighed and brushed his hair out of his face again. 'Viktor, darling, what happened?'

It took two attempts for Viktor to stutter out his tale, and by the end of it his mother and sister were sombre and Ana was sobbing into her palms. To speak those horrors aloud had gouged open the invisible wound, and for the first time in what seemed like hours, he could feel again. It was all the more unbearable looking into the open, compassionate faces of his family, and tears threatened to spill down his face once more. He'd never felt shame like it — not for all the dumb, reckless things he'd done in his childhood. It was worse than physical pain.

'I couldn't fight it,' He said listlessly after a long time. 'And, what's worse, is that I didn't want to.'

A troubled expression came over his mother's face and she looked away. Viktor tugged his bedsheets up to his neck and squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to be alone, even if his family did mean well. Another immeasurable stretch of time passed while his mother paced back and forth, standing and staring out one of the windows before returning to one of the seats at his bedside.

'Where's Hermione? Has she been up?' He said eventually.

He felt the bed dip as Ana's familiar weight settled beside his feet. It was like old times, when she'd comforted him in the middle of the night when he'd suffered night terrors after their Grandfather's death. She'd sat and told him stories for hours until he settled once more, never once accusing him of being too old for nightmares.

'Viktor…'

'She's okay?' He said quickly.

'Hermione's fine. She came by to check on you earlier, but there were guards from the British Ministry and they wouldn't let her in. She kicked up one hell of a fuss, it was very impressive,' His sister shot him a grin that he wanted to return, but couldn't find the energy to. 'She's with Harry now, but she'll be back. She promised.'

'There's something you're not telling me.' He had the horrible feeling that they were withholding information from him, a revelation far worse than his own, unforgivable use of the torture spell. Ana confirmed it almost immediately as she looked to their mother, begging her wordlessly for support, lost for words for, possibly, the first time in her entire life. With a weariness that seemed to overtake her entire body, Viktor's mother settled on the other side of his legs.

It was with a sorrowful resignation that she began to talk. 'Their Dark Lord has returned tonight. Hermione's friend, Harry Potter, has endured a horrific ordeal this evening and I can only assume that he played a part, most likely accidental, in facilitating his return. We do not know the details, Albus has spoken to your father, but Illian will not share them… not tonight. Not when you are dealing with your own pain,' She considered him for a moment before continuing in barely a whisper. 'Potter claims to have faced him, to have duelled him. Your friend…,' Her face softened in sadness. 'The Diggory boy did not make it.'

Viktor's mouth opened, but nothing came out. He'd heard the words, but they didn't make any sense in his head. He'd lived a large portion of his life without fear — his world had been upended when his Grandfather had been killed by one of Grindelwald's last living fanatics — but he'd never known the true terror of war. However, with his mother's revelation, everything stopped, frozen in time for a moment. In the time of Voldemort, Hermione would be marked. His father would be targeted for his loyalties and his crimes against the Dark Lord's followers. Viktor wanted to weep, to scream, even to shout and thrash until he was hoarse. It was too terrible to accept, too impossible to believe. The emptiness was all-consuming.

'Viktor,' His mother shook him gently. 'Look at me, darling.'

When he did, she reached out to cover his hand with hers. 'You aren't to blame for what has transpired tonight, my son. As is the way with these tyrants, there are victims, and tonight you were a pawn in someone else's game. You will recover from this, sweetheart, and you will know what it is like to succumb to that darkness. You have always been a good boy. Don't give me that look —,' Viktor's face hardened. 'We are all tempted at one moment in our life, that is the way of dark magic. It is a temptation that taps into our core and entices us, those who are power-hungry mistake this for a strength. You need only look at Igor —'

'Where is Professor Karkaroff?' Viktor asked, his tone deadpan.

'Father's gone to arrest him.' Ana replied. Her eyes narrowed as they always did before she was about to offer a scathing remark about the wizard.

'It is a kindness, Viktor,' His mother shook her head, wordlessly requesting his silence. 'They will come for him now. The Death Eaters, once his kin, will hunt him down and murder him for his betrayal. Illian is sparing him that, for the chance to repent — the chance that you have now been given, for you are both just puppets in someone else's war.'

'Come now,' His mother rose to her feet, the bed springing back with her absence. Switching to English she called out for the matron who promptly appeared, a little less animosity in her face than there previously had been. 'Ms. Pomfrey? Would you agree that it is time for another Draught of Dreamless Sleep?'

…

It had been the longest night of Hermione's life. She'd sat silently at Harry's bedside, exchanging numb looks with Ron, Bill and their mother every half an hour, neither one of them able to digest what had happened that evening. It was testament to the turmoil going on inside her that Hermione barely acknowledged Sirius in his Animagus form, patrolling the perimeter of Harry's hospital cot in a manner that, under other circumstances, might've been both endearing and comical.

But there was nothing comical about what had taken place. She thought she'd been prepared for this moment — mentally, at least — but nothing could compare to the terror of knowing Voldemort had returned to power. She had cried into Ron's jumper (and Bill's, though she wasn't going to acknowledge that) until her eyes were so puffy she could barely see and her tear ducts had shrivelled up, but nothing seemed to ease the hollow pain in her stomach. Every time she looked in Harry's direction it was like she was being punched in the gut with a beater's bat, and whenever she thought of Viktor… well, she couldn't bare to think about that.

She watched Mrs Weasley smooth Harry's bed-covers for the third time in fifteen minutes and looked away quickly as she saw her eyes fill with tears. Harry had been asleep for hours now, his rest magically aided and peaceful. He deserved it, of course he did, but the drawn out uncertainty did nothing to ease her own anxiety.

'Mrs Weasley,' She said uneasily, her voice scarcely more than a squeak. 'I think… I think I should go to Viktor,' Ron's mother wiped her bloodshot eyes and stared at Hermione, or rather, she stared through her. 'Would you send word if Harry wakes up?'

She hadn't been sure how Mrs Weasley would react to her relationship with Viktor. The incident with the Easter egg had proven she wasn't infallible when it came to believing the lies the press spouted, but Hermione had always had the feeling that the witch wanted Hermione and Ron to be more than just friends. Nevertheless, the Weasley matriarch had represented a surrogate mother for Hermione in times when her own mother hadn't been able to support her transition into the wizarding world, and at that moment she might've snapped if Molly had shunned her.

'Yes, dear, of course. I do hope he is okay.'

She supposed it was as good a statement of acceptance as she was ever going to get. Giving her best friend one last, long look she departed the main hospital wing for the adjacent block of rooms which were reserved for special cases — Hermione had only been inside once, and that had been in her second year when she'd spent quite some coughing up hairballs and fretting over her whiskers. She hardly looked back on that moment in her life with fond memories, and now she was returning to face something much worse.

Ana had managed to reassure her earlier than Viktor was physically fine, a little bruised and battered from his incident in the maze, but fine nonetheless. The same couldn't be said for his mental health, though. According to his sister, he'd barely strung a sentence together in the pockets of time he'd been conscious and it tormented her to think about how he must be beating himself up over what had happened. She didn't doubt for a minute that Viktor hadn't meant to attack Fleur and Cedric, nor had he had any control over his actions. She'd experienced the effects of the Imperius curse first hand in Professor Moody's class and had been helpless to defend herself — the only one who'd managed that was Harry, and he'd always had a force of will unlike any other witch or wizard.

'Hello?' She called out as she rapped her knuckles on the door, the blunt thud of bone on wood jangling her already fraught nerves.

The door swung open magically, and she made eye contact with Viktor's mother.

'Hermione, darling,' Sofija said in a pleasant but somewhat subdued tone. It appeared as though she'd been expecting her, or perhaps she'd just heard Hermione coming. Viktor's mother was settled in a seat at his bedside, a book that looked suspiciously like a Jane Austen novel balancing on her knee. Hermione surveyed the little room apprehensively and spotted Ana curled up in an armchair at the end of Viktor's bed, squashed into a position that Hermione suspected she'd regret upon wakening, dozing with her head resting on her palm. Viktor's father was no where to be seen.

'How is Harry?' Mrs Krum said, an undertone of concern and caution in her voice.

'I don't really know,' Hermione mumbled. 'He's asleep… for now. Madam Pomfrey thought he'd suffer less if he was spared our interrogations.'

Viktor's mother nodded in polite agreement, but said no more. It was as though everyone was processing what had happened and all had come to the same conclusion, one way or another — not only did it have to be true, but life as they knew it was going to change. For Hermione that notion stung, but for someone like Viktor's mother, it would've been akin to reopening an old wound.

Hermione held onto her breath and let it out in a long, drawn out exhalation, attempting to still the shakes that had been wracking her body from the moment Viktor had been rescued from the maze. He was awake now, sat up in bed and observing her with dull, glazed eyes. His body was rigid and his face blank, but Hermione had the distinct feeling a lot was going on inside his head, despite his outward appearance. Evidently, he was experiencing the same symptoms of trauma as Harry, and was riddled with almost as much guilt.

'Hey you,' She breathed. 'Can I sit down?'

Viktor tilted his head so slightly she almost missed it, but as he shuffled over his invitation was clear. Taken aback, Hermione had only meant to perch on the end of the bed after all, she squeezed in next to him, her heart giving a hopeful lurch. Placing a cautious hand on his thigh, she smiled at him. It went unreturned for a tense moment, and then the corners of his lips quivered and she saw a flash of complex emotions cross his face.

'I didn't think I'd be back in the hospital wing with you so soon,' She said lightly, attempting to dissolve some of the tension in the room, as well as persuading him she felt no anger towards him. How could she be mad? She'd only heard one side of the story, but since getting to know Viktor — the real Viktor, not the one on the posters and in the papers — she'd discovered a sensitive and deeply compassionate boy who'd sooner throw himself in the path of a dragon than harm a friend. It was part of the reason she loved him; she might've struggled her entire life to make friends, but she'd found two brothers in Ron and Harry, and Viktor had never made her choose. Arguably, he might've been happier if Ron was out of the picture, but even when things had been at their lowest between her and Ron, Viktor hadn't said a true bad word against him (not to her face, at least). That wasn't the kind of person who wilfully threw his opponents under the proverbial bus just to win.

The sound of chair legs screeching on the stonework made them both jump. She'd forgotten they weren't alone, lost in her own thoughts and searching for the right thing to say to ease his pain. Viktor's mother had closed her book and was gathering her things.

'I will give you a moment,' Sofija said, kissing the top of Viktor's head and resting her hand on Hermione's shoulder for a brief moment, before disappearing quietly through the door Hermione had just come through. She left them staring at each other, Ana's sniffling snores punctuating the silence.

'Are you okay?'

'I will be,' He replied. His voice sounded raw and it was clear that he'd been crying. 'Haff… haff you seen Fleur?'

'No… she's with her mother. We all know you were bewitched, Viktor. She won't hold it against you.' Hermione kept her voice cautiously low.

'Is no excuse.' His reply came back instantly.

'Well, do you want to talk about it? Or do you want me to shut up?'

Viktor laughed then, a little warmth returning to his features. Knowing that it was unlikely he was going to say either way, she chose instead to provide the only form of comfort she was well versed in: hugs. Winding her arms around his torso, she pulled him into a gentle hug, cautious not to squeeze too hard in case he had injuries he'd not shared. Viktor's reaction shocked her — he crushed her against his chest, knocking the wind out of her and burying his head into her neck. They remained like that for a long time, Hermione listening to Viktor's shaky breaths as he sobbed noiselessly into the Gryffindor scarf that was still tied around her neck, long forgotten.

Eventually, Viktor pulled away gingerly, wiped his eyes roughly with the palm of his hand and stared at her with puffy, bloodshot eyes. She'd never seen him so vulnerable — he looked far younger than seventeen. Clearing his throat, Viktor leant forward to kiss her once on the lips and then made himself comfortable underneath the bed covers again.

'I would like to talk now,' He said quietly. 'It might be easier if you let me say everything I need to say… and then I will give you my answers, if I can.'

Hermione laced her fingers in his and nodded.

'I am not ready to talk about tonight, but I am promising you that I will when I am ready. Hopefully, you can understand — I need some time to sort through my thoughts for myself. I did something that is unforgivable tonight and I learnt some… things about myself that I am not proud of. You say that everyone knows I was bewitched, but I am not blameless. I do not want a free pass because something… much worse happened,'

He had started to cry again and Hermione wiped the stray tears with her fingertips.

'However, it made me realise something very important. As you know, my life has been Quidditch for very long time. My career was the only thing that mattered and I was wanting always to be the best. It is still my dream, you understand, but I haff discovered something that I will need to fight for more than that dream,'

Hermione's mouth had dried up. She had a suspicious feeling she knew what he was about to say, but people didn't say things like that to her.

'I know it must not be reassuring to hear this from a wizard who could not stop himself from torturing a good man,' Hermione scowled disapprovingly at him but he merely smiled. 'Is true, for me anyway. Hermione, you are fierce and so brave, so you do not need me to protect you, if anything it is the other way around, but I am wanting to be close enough that I can… what is the saying? Drop everything to go to you if you are needing me.

I think I am going to accept a place on an English team. Honestly, it was not in my plan, but everything has changed now. Plus, this country is feeling like home now. My English is much better, no? And I am appreciating all of your funny ways and even your horrible food.'

Hermione stared at him, dumbfounded. She couldn't even laugh at his silly jokes — Viktor's English was unmistakably improved, vastly more eloquent than when they'd first met and he was no longer mystified by the British idiosyncrasies, but the way he spoke about Bulgaria made even her nostalgic for a place she'd never set foot in. It was too much.

'Viktor… you can't,' She whispered. 'I can't ask you to leave your home, your friends, your family. I can't ask you to change your dreams for me. I know all about the Vratsa Vultures, Ana sent me an article. You've loved them since forever, I can't let you give up on joining them… for me.'

'You do not haff to,' It was her turn to cry now, and she did so freely. Viktor lifted her effortlessly into his lap and kissed her softly, ceasing her ability to respond. Breaking away a few minutes later, he placed his left index finger against her lips. 'I haff spent five years away from my home, travelling with my team and living at school. Home for me is not the place, but the people. You are here, and that is enough.'

Time was a strange thing, Hermione reflected in that moment. A month ago she would've welcomed this revelation and cried with pure, unadulterated happiness that he'd be on her side of the channel, but now it was bittersweet, heartsick tears that trickled down her face. He was willing to change the course of his career for her, but why did it hurt so much?

…

The month that followed was unlike any other that Hermione had experienced at Hogwarts. Across all three schools there was a shared sense of loss and grief, and on multiple occasions Hermione found herself losing hours at a time as she sat in her favourite armchair in the Gryffindor common room, staring out at the Quidditch field and reliving the events of that night.

Not long after Hermione and Viktor's emotional conversation in the hospital wing, Hermione had confided in Ginny as to Viktor's plan for the future. After joking that she could sell his shock career secret for enough galleons to finance the rest of her days, Ginny had told Hermione to be selfish and allow him to do this one thing for her.

'I'm not going to mince my words, Hermione. He's making a sacrifice, but I've learnt from Mum and Dad that relationships are all about sacrifices. If he loves you as much as he claims, then I understand why he feels he needs to do this. You're special enough to move two-thousand miles for.'

They were peculiarly insightful words for a girl just shy of fourteen, but Hermione had grown to value Ginny's opinion as much as someone double her age. Needless to say, even though she and Viktor were approaching their one year anniversary, Hermione didn't feel any closer to mastering the matter of relationships.

Professor Dumbledore had addressed the school at breakfast a few days after the final task, revealing the circumstances of Cedric's murder with no attempt at sugar-coating the truth. Most people, Hermione observed, were far too terrified by the prospect of Harry's tale being legitimate to accept it for what it was. Those same people skirted Harry in the corridors, avoiding him, Hermione and Ron as though acknowledging their existence would have dire consequences.

Unsurprisingly, perhaps, Harry and Viktor had found an unspoken understanding through their shared experience, and when he wasn't sitting silently in their company, Harry was flying with Viktor or playing chess with Ron and Valentin. Having never been particularly good at consoling Harry when he was suffering like this, Hermione was especially grateful for her boyfriend and the way in which he was able to bolster Harry's mood (with mutual benefit, she suspected). Viktor himself had withdrawn in the weeks after his ordeal, dealing with his own demons in quiet contemplation and, one night after dinner, Valentin had pulled her aside discreetly to tell her Viktor was having night terrors again. She'd sent an anonymous package containing several vials of Draught of Dreamless Sleep after that and neither of them had mentioned it again. The only thing that had so far managed to draw more than a tentative laugh from his lips was revealing to their entire group that she'd finally solved the puzzle of Rita Skeeter. In the aftermath of Voldemort's return, Skeeter didn't seem much of an antagonist anymore, but capturing the crafty bitch in her illegal Animagus form had brought a little light back into their lives. Hermione stored the vindictive beetle in a mason jar under her bed, and whenever Harry or Viktor had had a particularly turbulent day she plucked Skeeter from her confines and gave her a piece of her mind.

On June thirtieth Viktor had celebrated his eighteenth birthday. It was a subdued affair and he politely refused any special attention, but that hadn't stopped the occasional (carefully vetted) owl depositing cards and gifts from his family and friends here and there onto the Gryffindor table at breakfast. After a morning alone together in their spot by the boathouse, Hermione, Valentin and Viktor had joined his family in Hogsmeade for a meal at the Three Broomsticks, thanks to special permission from Dumbledore himself. With Viktor still being unusually quiet the responsibility of carrying the conversation fell to Hermione, and she was proud of how she'd managed to hold her own with his parents. On reflection, it was easy to speak to Sofija and Ana, but her real success had come in being able to answer his father's questions without stumbling over her words, and even asking the odd question of her own. If she ever found herself alone with the wizard over summer, at least they wouldn't have to sit in an uncomfortable silence. It had been an emotional goodbye in the end, and as Hermione waved Viktor's family off from the Hogwarts entrance hall she realised that she was looking forward to visiting Bulgaria for more than just spending some quality time with her boyfriend.

It was a hot, sticky summer's day when Hogwarts, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons went their separate ways. In a stark contrast to their arrival, the two foreign schools spent hours saying their emotional goodbyes, exchanging their contact details with new lifelong friends, the words of Albus Dumbledore echoing in their minds: 'We are only as strong as we are united. We can only fight Lord Voldemort's hatred with an equally strong bond of friendship and trust.'

Hermione had received a formal bow from each and every one of Viktor's classmates, but only Valentin had broken rank and lifted her up in his arms, twirling her around as though she were weightless, and giving her a crushing hug.

'You are one extraordinary witch, Hermione Granger. You might even be the… bee's knees.'

'Right, off with you,' Hermione giggled and pinched him until he put her down. 'Enough of that, I've already told you that your English is good. I won't say it again.'

Valentin winked at her and slunk off to find his own Hogwarts witch. And then — the time had come. Hermione could put it off no longer. She found Viktor shaking hands with both Harry and Ron, all three boys looking the brightest they had for a long time.

'Everything okay?' She said, attempting her best to sound cheerful.

'Yeah!' Ron replied enthusiastically. 'Viktor's promised us tickets to some of his matches when the new season starts.'

'I hope to watch both of you play for Gryffindor next year, if I have the time.' Viktor added. His announcement elicited a beaming smile from Hermione and Harry's first genuine grin in weeks.

'I'll meet you both by the carriages, okay?' She said to Harry and Ron and they took the hint, dragging their heavy trunks towards the crowded entrance hall where the rest of the fourth years were waiting for their transport to Hogsmeade station. They left Hermione and Viktor staring at each other, neither wanting to be the first to say the dreaded word.

In the end it was Hermione who broke the silence.

'Seems it doesn't get any easier the second time round,' She said, her voice trembling. She'd convinced herself last night that she wasn't going to cry this time and with every second she was getting gradually closer to breaking her promise to herself. 'How will you get back without Kark — without your Highmaster?'

'He did nothing on the way here,' Viktor shrugged. 'So we will do all the work again. We will be home in a day or so.'

'And what will you do before you come to London? I did write the coordinates for Hampstead tube station clearly enough, didn't I?'

Viktor patted his trouser pocket and smiled. 'I haff to pack for some dangerous camping in the wastelands of the English countryside,' Hermione snorted and muttered under her breath that Valentin had been rubbing off on him. 'More seriously, I will spend some time with my grandfather, I am thinking.'

'Right. Well… I hope you have… a good time. I'll see you soon.' She pretended to examine the contents of her schoolbag intensely, reaching into Crookshanks' wicket basket to scratch behind his ears.

'Hermione,' Viktor caught her wrist and pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her in front of everyone and pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead, disarming her as he always managed to do so. 'Is just a few days, but I will still miss you. Every second.' He seemed amused by her attempt to appear stoic, his eyes crinkling into something akin to his former boyishness.

'And I'll miss you every millisecond,' She grumbled, beginning to sniffle. 'It's just… Dammit, I swore to myself that I wouldn't make this sadder than it needed to be!' She huffed in exasperation. 'I'm not going to pretend that this doesn't feel like more than just brief goodbye… Viktor, you're not coming back next year and I… I can't imagine doing my fifth year without you. When you walk down the lawn it'll be the end of this chapter… and I'm scared. You're going to be close, and I can't tell you how grateful I am for that, but it won't be every day anymore. I don't want to see you go. I wish… I wish some things didn't have to change.'

She finished her impassioned, if slightly tearful speech with a sad, searching look. She hadn't intended to dump it all on him, but she couldn't bare to watch him board the ship without being honest. They'd never have this time again and the looming darkness seemed even more daunting knowing that it'd just be her, Harry and Ron again. Funny, once their trio had been all that she needed to conquer the world, and now there would be a gaping hole without Viktor.

Hermione waited with bated breath for Viktor to reply, but, instead, he captured her lips with his mouth and kissed her until almost all of the fourth years had boarded the carriages. She noticed none of the stares and none of the whispers — this time they didn't matter. It was Ron's impatient shout that eventually caused Viktor to grudgingly let her go.

'There are better things ahead,' He whispered. 'We have new chapters to write together. Let us focus on our summer together first, then we worry about the rest. Just you and me.'

Ron shouted again, this time more urgently. She was going to miss the last carriage.

'Go,' Viktor breathed. 'You walk away from me and then your last memory of me here will be waving at you, happy.'

Hermione kissed him again, and then again. She pecked him three more times on the lips before she finally gathered her things in her arms, tilted her chin up and strode over to the last carriage to leave the school grounds. As Ron slammed the door shut behind her it kicked into action, rolling steadily towards the main entrance gates. She maintained eye contact with Viktor until he was nothing more than an indistinguishable dot on the distance… and then she wept.

A/N: And there we are, the end of Vol II — what did you think?

This has been a magical(!) journey for me, and I've never stuck with one story for so long. It has brought me a lot of joy and I'm thoroughly looking forward to the next 'chapter' of their relationship. It's funny how much difference a week can make, as C24 all but wrote itself in a day, despite the difficult nature of some of the conversations.

I'll be taking some time to detach from writing and the wizarding world, so that I can come back refreshed and motivated. You can find an ETA for Vol III: Chapter 25 on my profile later this week.

So, there remains only one thing to say: thank you. Thank you for sticking with me this far, and for your kindness and support.