There's been a distinct lack of Viktor POV lately, wouldn't you agree? Well, I reward your patience with a glorious helping of Krum. And, a mature warning to boot, enjoy!

Viktor and Hermione passed the rest of the morning sprawled out by the river in companionable silence. It might've been far too hot to have Hermione's mass of curls in his lap as she read — making his groin area feel like it was roasting alive — but Viktor wouldn't have told her to move for anything. Hermione muttered away to herself, unknowingly dissecting whatever content she was reading, while Viktor stroked her hair absentmindedly with one hand and filled out his forms with the other. It was his little slice of paradise.

It was strange to think he was finally going to settle in one place. For as long as he could remember he'd been in limbo: he'd drifted frequently between home, school and the training grounds for the entirety of his youth. Now he was moving abroad and he'd be there, with a fixed home-base, for at least a year. Deep down he knew he'd never be able to hold off forever on his childhood dream of winning the Championship with the Vultures, but as he listened to his new Coach speak passionately about the Wasps' aspirations he'd realised it wasn't the end of the world to go down a different path first.

It was all for her. Hermione Jean Granger. His witch. She'd never asked anything of him, yet had given him everything. Without consciously doing so, Hermione had given up a lot to be with him in the open — she'd suffered public torment, had her reputation dragged through the mud and even suffered an extended dip at the bottom of the Black Lake, just for his benefit. And she'd done it all with a brave smile and a wicked tongue. He could listen to her call Rita Skeeter a bitch and his critics 'cockroaches' all damn day; it made him want smother his firecracker in hot kisses as a thank you for defending his honour.

Paperwork complete, Viktor stretched back languorously and tangled both his hands into her hair, kneading her scalp gently, though not eliciting even a small sound from her mouth. When Hermione was ensconced in a book she entered an impenetrable trance. He probably could've stripped naked and she wouldn't notice. Viktor gazed at the cloudless sky and smiled to himself; this was where he was happiest. With her. There had been an unwelcome crowd of paparazzi camped out around the Wimbourne Wasps stadium and even though Coach Petcher had smuggled him in at an ungodly hour in an effort to avoid detection, the anti-apparition wards had meant that Viktor needed to brave the chaos to get out and back to camp. The news of his transfer — or at least his presence in Dorset — would inevitably break in tomorrow's papers, so it was the ultimate escape to be here protected from it all.

That morning he'd decided he was going to live in the moment for as long as possible. For the time being they were together and he'd never been so happy — he needn't spoil it by thinking about their uncertain future. With that thought in his mind, Viktor closed his eyes and drifted off into dreams of a peaceful life. He came to almost an hour later and found Hermione in exactly the same position, now three-quarters of the way through the tome clasped in her sweaty hands.

'Hermione,' Viktor said, his voice thick with sleep. 'I cannot feel my legs.'

Nothing. Viktor wriggled his legs, jostling her, succeeding only in making his girlfriend bury her face further into the textbook. Rolling his eyes Viktor bounced his thighs and called her name in a sing-song tone until, finally, Hermione marked her page with her pinky finger and set her most intimidating glare on him.

'Yes?'

'I missed you.'

'I'm right here?'

Viktor snorted and jiggled his thighs again, sending Hermione's head jumping once more. 'Ah, actually you are not. You are in whatever world your book is in.'

Hermione gasped indignantly. However, a second later she marked her page and set the book aside, looking up at him through her lashes. 'Ok, I'm here now. What's wrong?'

'Nothing at all,' Viktor brushed his thumb over her cheek fondly. 'I did not like being away from you this morning. I just wanted to tell you that.'

'Are you getting soppy on me, Viktor Krum?' She giggled.

Viktor made an exaggerated show of debating over her words. Yes, she'd turned him into an extremely emotional being. Soppy too — but only with her. Instead of responding he hunched over and pressed his lips to hers, silencing her far too accurate teasing.

Some five minutes later Hermione threaded her fingers into his hair and sighed. There was that look again — the I'm about to quiz you expression.

'Where will you live?'

Ah. An easy question — this one he could answer. 'The club has living accommodation on site. Good news; I will not haff to share. I haff my own room.'

As much as he'd enjoyed bunking with Vasily and Valentin in the past he couldn't wait to have his own space all year round. It was one of the first questions he'd asked his new Coach, since he wanted to keep the possibility open of Hermione staying with him.

'However, I am thinking… long term I will buy a flat. My contract is for a year, but if I am staying longer it makes sense to have my own place.'

Hermione blinked up at him. 'Like… live here properly?'

'Da. Yes.'

'That's… wow.'

'You could come and stay with me. If my contract is extended then I will buy in summer… you could spend it with me again. In Dorset.'

He could tell she was thinking it over. Her eyes drifted in and out of focus whenever she was chewing over a puzzle in her brain, and apparently she was considering her response very carefully. Unsure he wanted to hear the result of her inner debate Viktor captured her mouth in another soft kiss and removed the pressure for her to reply — there would always be an opportunity to have those more serious conversations. For now he was just content that everything was falling into place.

After lunch Hermione's father spread out a map of the Forest of Dean that he'd been pawing over all morning and announced the route he'd settled on for their afternoon ramble. It took a combined effort from her parents and Viktor to convince Hermione that a hike was a good idea and that her book would still be there when she got back. Halfway up a pine-tree capped hill David Granger invited Viktor to walk with him, leaving Hermione to trail a considerable way behind with her mother; something that appeared suspiciously like forward planning.

'Viktor, can I be candid with you?'

Candid? 'Of course.'

'Is my daughter going to be in danger returning to Hogwarts this September?'

Viktor's step faltered and he nearly lost his footing on the steep incline. When he'd first been getting to know Hermione she'd admitted that she sometimes softened the truth for her parents. Anything to do with the dark arts and their Dark Lord was on a 'need-to-know' basis, and, quite frankly, in both their minds the less her parents knew the safer they were… for the moment.

'Sir…' Viktor hesitated, 'Truthfully, I haff no idea.'

'What does your gut tell you?' David insisted, his face creased in concentration. It felt like his gaze was piercing Viktor in two.

'Yes,' Viktor replied sincerely. 'I think she is in danger —'

Her father exhaled what sounded like all the air in his lungs. Most likely Viktor had just validated his every fear, and now he didn't know what to think. Viktor continued hastily, 'By proxy. We are all in danger right now. We will all be in danger while You-Know-Who is existing, but Hermione is safe at Hogwarts. Albus — Professor Dumbledore — will prevent anything bad from happening to her.'

'Didn't you say your father captures dark wizards? Can't he imprison this You-Know-Who?'

Viktor laughed mirthlessly. 'There is no prison cell that will hold him.'

Confusion followed by a resolute determination flew across the older man's features. In that moment Viktor saw Hermione in her father; neither refused to back down in the face of a challenge. While his girlfriend might look every inch her mother, her personality was a tempestuous mix of both of them.

'Well? Is this the attitude of everyone in your world?' All her father needed to do was huff and stamp her foot and Viktor was convinced he could be dealing with Hermione directly. It made him want to laugh, but his throat was too tight to attempt it.

'Not everyone…' Viktor said slowly.

Who was he kidding? He could count the number of people willing to face up to the Dark Lord on his left hand. However, when his father had met him disembarking from the ship he'd promised him something was different this time. Something that made him hopeful. An unbreakable vow with Albus himself forbade Illian from sharing anything with his son, though perhaps that was for the best. Whilst ignorance wasn't usually a positive, Hermione was safer if Viktor wasn't harbouring any information that put her at risk. In a few months time he was sure he wouldn't feel that way; there would come a time when Viktor would want to fight alongside his father and his ignorance would become a vulnerability. Until then he trusted his father knew best… Knowledge is Power, Illian had always told him, so to keep Viktor in the dark had to be justifiable in his view.

'Will you tell me the truth about this wizard, Viktor?'

Feeling deeply troubled about what he was going to reveal, Viktor cleared his throat and recounted the story his father had told him when he was just a child.

Behind them Hermione was being subjected to a grilling that, arguably, she would've swapped any day for a nice chat about You-Know-Who. How had Viktor gotten away with a leisurely stroll beside her father when she was stuck with the one parent who was adamant on discussing her love life? If Mum mentioned the S word one more time she was going to combust from mortification.

'Mum, please. Can we talk about something else other than my relationship?'

'Hermione Jean Granger!' Her mother snapped, her nostrils flaring in a manner that had always reminded Hermione of her Head of House. 'If you're not mature enough to talk about sex openly and without embarrassment then I have serious doubts about whether you should be having it, young lady.'

A fresh wave of shame and humiliation flooded through Hermione. The vein in her mother's forehead was pulsating threateningly and she shrunk back on instinct. Mum meant business.

'Hermione, it's because I love you that I want you to make the right choices. Your father and I have always trusted you completely with every decision you've made and every direction you've taken and that still stands. I'm not insisting we speak about this because I'm nosy, but because I want you to feel you can ask me anything, no matter how uncomfortable it might seem.'

Hermione stared at the ground beneath her feet. 'I'm sorry Mum. I didn't mean to be rude.'

Mum sighed like Hermione was a naughty child. 'It's fine, honey. You'll promise me that you'll continue to be careful at least, won't you?'

'We've… we've not…' Hermione mumbled into her chin. 'There's no 'continue' about it, so you don't need to worry. We've not… done that.'

There had been one point in Hermione's life where she'd entrusted her every waking thought, secret and feeling with her mother. Up until she'd left on the Hogwarts Express in her first year Mum had been Hermione's closest confidant and she wouldn't have hesitated to tell her anything, no matter how embarrassing it could be considered. Nowadays it was second nature for her to skirt the truth with her parents; it was essential to keep them safe. As a result, she'd gotten out of the habit of being open with her mother… and it had become too easy to keep things inside instead of halving her burden.

'Oh,' Mum frowned at her. Great. When was it strange to still be a virgin at fifteen? What had Mum expected?

'I know it's a big thing, Mum —'

'Darling,' Her mother slipped an arm through Hermione's and pulled her into her side. 'You're just so relaxed around him. I assumed… well, I assumed because of the way you two behave that it was a given. Sex changes a lot for a relationship and you two are so at ease with each other that it seemed only natural to me that you must be intimate. What's more, after you sent me that letter and asked me certain questions, I gathered that it was an inevitability,'

Hermione shook her head. Her face was still hot and she couldn't find the courage to meet Mum's eye.

'I'm proud you're not rushing things,' Mum continued, 'Choosing to give that part of you to Viktor won't be something you do lightly, darling. Bringing sex into the equation makes you more vulnerable, because it'll deepen that connection, and I know that's scary. But you've always been so brave and so strong-minded.'

Hermione's struggles with making friends had hardened her, as had years of teasing until Harry and Ron came along, so she was no stranger to guarding her heart. However, Viktor had made it almost impossible to be cautious with her feelings because she'd felt for him so strongly since the get go, even if she hadn't understand then what it was. A frisson of anger bubbled inside her — if only Mum understood that and would stop treating her like a child. Didn't she know that every day Hermione delayed being with Viktor her worry that he'd grow tired of waiting doubled? Get a grip, Hermione. Of course Mum didn't know that; it was her own guilty conscience and overactive brain that was making her tetchy.

'It was easier when the only thing that mattered was exams,' Hermione joked after an uncomfortable period of quiet.

Mum laughed. 'Perhaps. It's just as well you've found yourself a man that is worth the effort then; that's all that matters at the end of the day.'

Staring at the back of Viktor's head, her heart swelling at the memory of his beaming smile when he'd shown her his contract — the one he'd pursued just for her — Hermione wholeheartedly agreed. He was worth it.

There wasn't much opportunity for conversation after that as the going got too tough, and soon Hermione was perspiring like a fountain and clawing for breath. This was exactly why she'd put up a fight with her father; he was notorious for under-exaggerating the complexity of anything he forced his wife and daughter to undertake. She should've known a 'casual walk' in her father's vocabulary meant that she'd end up sprawled on the floor in a heap before the day was out. The only upside was that David Granger had relinquished his hold on Viktor sometime after her awkward discussion with Mum had shifted to safer grounds, and, although her low fitness level was just as embarrassing in Viktor's presence as topics of an adult nature were with Mum, at least Viktor was happy to leave her to suffer in silence.

They reached the summit of the 'hill' (Hermione questioned this too) in the late afternoon, and after pouring the last of his water over his head to cool off, Viktor insisted on taking Hermione on his shoulders and parading up and down the viewing spot in jubilant satisfaction. Even Hermione couldn't bite back her smile then, and she laughed along with her parents at Viktor's childish glee.

'Fancy carrying me the whole way back?' Hermione wheezed when he eventually put her down, only half joking.

'If I say yes, what reward will you give to me?'

'Uh,' Hermione flicked her frizzy plait over her shoulder and began pulling at the copious amount of hairs vying for freedom. 'A kiss?'

'Tempting… but no.' Viktor's lips twitched and she shot him a glare of mock-infuriation. He could play coy all he liked, he was going to carry her down that damn hill. It wasn't a question of female empowerment, it was a matter of life and death. Her legs was so close to jelly that she'd not been able to stand since Viktor ceremoniously plonked her onto the grass after his celebrations.

'You tell me then, what's a worthy reward?'

'Fly with Valentin and I in Bulgaria.' Viktor didn't miss a beat. His dark eyes tunnelled straight through hers and she felt herself break out into a cold sweat. Why did she have the distinct feeling he didn't mean on his broom with him doing the flying? It hadn't been all that bad last night when her lips and arms had been plastered to him, but by herself? She'd only flown a handful of times since the compulsory classes in her first year. Admittedly, she still harboured a grudge that her trusty library books hadn't lessened her fear of flying, nor had they made her first experience and all outings thereafter any less hair-raising, but that had nothing to do with her entrenched fear of flying.

Grudgingly Hermione nodded and in an instant Viktor had swept her up in an exuberant hug that made it very tough to be irritated with him. It was testament to her exhaustion that she'd given in so quickly.

'You can climb on me now then, Madam,' Viktor squatted down to allow her onto his back. Blushing profusely at his choice of words, Hermione clambered onto his back and clamped her legs around his torso in a vice grip. She had been joking, but a promise was a promise. Resting her chin on his head, Hermione shrugged to herself and prepared for a rather pleasant descent.

…

It had been another unbearably warm, sticky night. Not even casting a cooling charm every hour had managed to ease his fitful sleep and by the time Viktor had drifted off the sun was beginning to rise. Either everyone else had suffered a similar restless fate or they'd seen fit to let him lay in because no one poked their head in to rouse him — sadly not even Hermione. There hadn't been a repeat of that delightful episode and he was privately disappointed not to come round and see a pair of caramel eyes staring back at him.

He woke that morning to the sun streaming into his tent through the thin material. At some point in the early hours he must've divested his pyjamas since he was stretched out on his transfigured mattress in nothing but his birthday suit and a layer of long-cooled perspiration. He felt gross. Groaning under his breath, Viktor rubbed his face with the back of his hand and let the other skim down his chest, scratching an invisible itch on the hard planes of his stomach. It rumbled as if to scold him for daring to wake so late. His morning erection rested below his navel and he felt it tremble as his pinky finger accidentally brushed the tip; he exhaled sharply through his nose and looked down at the sight that had greeted him every morning of his life post-puberty. What he would give for Hermione to take care of that just once. What would it be like to come to and have her luscious body stretched out beside him, her hands wandering over his skin like he'd always dreamt she would, but she was always too shy to initiate? His imagination was getting ahead of him and it wouldn't end well.

Viktor's left hand had gripped himself before he was aware his brain had given the signal to move. He hissed softly and began to stroke himself lazily, imagining it was Hermione's small hands wrapped around him as she threw a leg over his thigh. The first time they'd been together in an intimate way she'd displayed a tendency for wantonness and since then he'd always imagined her wild and wanting in his daydreams. Hermione was passionate — always fiery — and that was such a contrast to his cool, collected nature that it drove him slightly mad.

Squeezing himself roughly, Viktor let his mind meander into visions of the wet heat of Hermione's mouth around him, cautiously exploring him with her tongue; she'd taken him by surprise that day and he'd almost exploded the second she kissed him down there. It hadn't helped that sharing a cabin with Valentin meant common decency dictated he not indulge himself when his best friend was asleep only a few metres away, so he was a wound up fuse ready to blow (quite literally) for most of their time at Hogwarts. That was his excuse at least, he mused as he pumped himself, it couldn't have been that he'd thought about her doing that every morning for a full month. He'd thought about a lot of things, actually, but Hermione still froze whenever he grazed her in any place remotely sexual, so he might cause her to freak out if he shared what was really going in his head.

Viktor's eyelids fluttered closed. He stroked himself faster, his hips snapping up to meet his ragged movements, no longer patient enough to tease himself; he wanted some relief, and then he wanted to kiss Hermione good morning. Easy to please, that's me. He was just beginning to feel the fizzle in his groin and the tightening of his balls that signalled he was nearing completion when the sound of someone unzipping his tent sent alarm bells ringing in his mind, interrupting the cinematic reel of Hermione's caresses and kisses currently flickering round and round in his imagination. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Shit. Fuck. Praying to Merlin or whoever else could pause time, Viktor grabbed blindly for the nearest piece of clothing — his shorts — and covered himself just in time for a mane of riotous curls to appear through a small hole in the tent vestibule.

'Viktor, are you awake in here —'

Hermione stopped in her tracks. Her eyes were wide and she gaped at him, startled. Giving the game away somewhat Viktor glanced down to where her eyes were fixed. Well, shit. He could've slapped himself; in his haste he'd chosen the one piece of flimsy clothing that wouldn't hide a damn thing. There was a unmissable tent between his legs and he was hit with the same wash of embarrassed shame he'd felt whenever one of the house elves apparated into his room first thing to get his breakfast order and found him with a hand down his boxers. Except… he wasn't supposed to feel like with her, was he? She knew he did this; he'd all but told her. Maybe he hadn't explicitly said the words, but he had insinuated it… and she didn't look horrified.

Damn. He was panicking. Couldn't she just say something?

'Good morning,' He said warily, not risking moving even an inch. His eyes roamed over her shocked face and registered a hint of something in her eyes… was that desire?

'Are your parents —'

'Gone for a morning walk.' Hermione breathed.

'Okay,' Viktor murmured, sounding stupid even to his own ears. He had two choices: invite her to join him or pretend nothing was wrong. In the end it was Hermione biting her bottom lip that made the decision for him. 'You would… like to join me?'

He hoped she'd not heard the hint of eagerness in his voice. Looking nervously over her shoulder Hermione stepped through into the tent and zipped it back up behind her. Viktor held her gaze the entire time, far too aware of how his erection was twitching in anticipation against his belly, and greedily examined the emotions that danced across her face. Curiosity. Want. Apprehension. As she got closer Viktor extended his hand to her and caught her by the wrist, curling his fingers around the fragile circumference and tugging her the remaining distance. His best route to success would be to distract her, so he lifted his torso off the bed so he could meet her lips. Kissing her gently, barely moving his lips, Viktor removed his hasty covering and slowly recommenced his pumping, this time pulling languidly instead of the frantic movements of earlier. Much to his relief Hermione kissed him back then, hesitantly at first, and then gave it her all. Her plump lips were molten against his skin and it sent him into a frenzy of sharp pulls. Viktor wasn't sure if she was avoiding looking down or she simply enjoyed kissing him that much, but he found he didn't mind if all they did was make out while he finished himself off. She'd made no move to 'help', so he would do the honours.

All of a sudden, Hermione's soft fingertips made a beeline for his groin. She skipped the preamble and grazed her palm over his leaking tip, never once tearing her lips from his. Viktor wanted to watch her hands and match them to the sensations they were causing, but he equally wanted to continue scrutinising the way her eyes were blazing with arousal as she touched him. Unlike the first time, Hermione was more confident in her actions, and she didn't hesitate to brush his hand aside and replace it with the curve of her own, gliding up and down his erection with something akin to determination and maybe a touch of fondness. Now his hands were free Viktor let them wander, rubbing them over the back of her dress before dipping underneath to seek out the warm globes of her bottom. If only she knew the amount of time I spent fantasising about her backside. That thought caused a spark of pleasure to whoosh through his groin; his breathing devolved into rasping wheezes as a result and despite the brief interlude he was almost there again. Really, it was a shame that it was going to be over so soon when he'd been wanting them to have an opportunity like this for weeks, but there was no way he could postpone the inevitable. Not when she'd been teasing him with her kisses all week. Focusing his mind on the pleasure Hermione's delicate hands were drawing from him, Viktor kissed her more fiercely, biting her bottom lip between his teeth as his balls began to draw up, warning him of his imminent release.

Hermione seemed to sense it too. For someone so inexperienced she was surprisingly in-tune with his body, or maybe his grunts and groans were betraying him — either way she knew to increase the tempo and channel her energy into the most sensitive part of him. Viktor's release was ripped from him in a spectacular fashion and he muffled his cries in her mouth, his eyes rolling back in his head as he flopped back down on the bed in a sated heap.

After a moment he realised she hadn't let him go and she was still watching him. Viktor opened one eye curiously and smiled.

'I am glad you walked in on me, so do not apologise,' He chuckled. He'd put galleons on her being seconds away from saying sorry for catching him in a compromising potion, even if it had ended up being fortuitous for the both of them.

'I wasn't going to,' Hermione said defensively, 'Alright, maybe I was. But only because I should've alerted you or something.'

'Hermione, I said I do not mind. If you cannot tell, I enjoyed myself very much. Or were you somewhere else?'

Hermione smiled smugly and he laughed. No, he hadn't thought so. Sitting up, Viktor wrinkled his nose at the liquid cooling and solidifying on his stomach. Unless she was about to get on her knees and lick him clean, something he seriously doubted, he needed to tidy himself up stat.

'I shall join you for breakfast in a moment?' Hermione didn't move. In fact, her hand tightened on his deflating length and he winced from the sensitivity. 'Unless…'

'No, no. I really should go. If Dad catches me in here he'll blow his lid. But… for what it's worth, I would've… liked you to. A lot.'

Hermione wiped her hand on his bare thigh and rose to her feet. Unwilling to let her go without a reassuring kiss, Viktor levered himself into a sitting position and caught her wrist again, pulling her down until he could kiss her with all the residual heat from their encounter. Hermione giggled into his lips and he swiftly achieved his goal of getting her to relax. With a spring in her step Hermione retreated to the door, before pausing and speaking so softly he almost missed it. 'Is it… better when I do it?'

Still panting slightly, Viktor laughed under his breath and shook his head in disbelief, though there was no way she could've seen it with her back facing him.

'It is one thousand times better when you do it, Hermione.'

Now that was an understatement.

…

Hermione thought a lot about their encounter over the coming days. Sometimes she wondered how often he did that when he was alone, but mostly she pondered over what might've happened if she'd stayed and her parents hadn't been around. Would things have escalated? Would she have let them? Something had changed. There were subtle differences; she sought his touch first, she kissed him freely in front of her parents, and when they were kayaking again later that afternoon she casually asked him to do so topless up front so she could apologetically ogle him. Although he was amused by her change in behaviour and her increase in confidence, it was clear from his puzzled looks that he couldn't work out what had caused it. She didn't know either.

Maybe it was his lack of embarrassment. There had been a flicker of something in his eyes when she'd caught him, an ingrained reaction most likely, but then he'd bared himself to her and brazenly invited her to join him. Upon later reflection when she'd laid in bed that night, she concluded that Viktor had no reservations about that aspect of their relationship. There was no part of him over-analysing every touch, caress and sensation. It had crossed her mind the first time he'd brought her to climax that he couldn't have been new to it all; shyness and jealously had prevented her from asking, and he'd never offered the information. Why would he? He was an attractive, famous, talented eighteen year old wizard — why shouldn't he have had his fair share of witches? That made her insides feel like porridge.

However, for all the hours Hermione tossed and turned in bed, feeling lost and confused, she also inched closer to a decision. Logically she knew they were going to have sex eventually; her mother had believed it, for heaven's sake. Soon she would turn sixteen and in just over a month they would celebrate their first anniversary — would she feel prepared then? Laying awake in bed the night of their last evening in the Forest of Dean Hermione resolved to speak to Viktor candidly about it all when they arrived in Bulgaria. The time had come for her to show her Gryffindor courage.

The next morning Hermione packed her things with a bittersweet feeling in her chest. Already it had been a summer she'd never forget and she felt closer to her parents than she had in a very long time. Whether that had anything to do with Viktor sharing the burden of her secrets or not, she couldn't be sure, but she did know that some of the tension had seeped away from her strained relationship with Mum and Dad. As for her and Viktor, it was as though she'd hardly known him before. In just a few short days she'd seen a different side to the wizard who was unwaveringly disciplined and carried a perpetual weight on his shoulders. Away from the pressures of the magical world, Viktor went toe-to-toe with her on every topic, displaying an astonishing knowledge of culture and politics (though, admittedly, always within a wizarding context), just like he had done when they only had letters through which to correspond. In addition to challenging her mind on her preconceived ideas of Pureblood society, Viktor pushed her physically to find her inner strength. Part of her suspected he was preparing her for something ahead, and the other part argued that he was helping her to find another outlet for her frustrations and anxieties that didn't included isolating herself in the library. Either way, Hermione resolved to explore her own potential when they were apart; maybe she'd take up Yoga. That'd give Lavender and Parvati a good laugh, at least.

'You are pre-occupied this morning,' Viktor caught her unawares, his hand sneaking down her arm in an affectionate caress. 'Everything is ok?'

'Just thinking about the last week.' Hermione smiled. The truth was if she entertained one more train of thought her brain might explode, so she hugged him instead. Viktor grunted in surprise at her sudden attack and it took him a moment to return the gesture.

'You are sure everything is fine?'

'Absolutely. Are you going to tell me how we're getting to Bulgaria now? I'm not sure I can wait any longer.'

Viktor smirked and shook his head. At first he'd admitted his father was taking care of things, but two days ago Aurelius, the Krum's owl, had brought word from the Ministry in his home-country and he'd been evasive ever since. Thinking back to the hassle he'd gone through to get to England, she'd assumed it had been bad news and had therefore let the subject lie, but now the time had finally come. Hermione was giddy with excitement. She couldn't wait to see where he'd grown up, and the prospect of seeing Ana and Valentin again made her mouth ache from grinning.

'Sir,' Viktor shook hands with her father and received an approving clap on the back in response. He then turned to her mother and Hermione couldn't help but laugh as Mum giggled like Lavender when he kissed her hand and bowed. I totally understand. He has that effect on me too.

With the car packed, their little camp deconstructed and their goodbyes said, there was nothing left to do and suddenly Hermione felt out of her depth. It was really happening. She was going home with Viktor bloody Krum. She was going to stay with a BOY without her parents, without the safety net of her friends being in close proximity. As they waved her parents off in the car her stomach twisted and turned in nervous apprehension.

Viktor squeezed her hand as though he knew what she was thinking. He'd transfigured her weighty suitcase into a more manageable backpack that he now adorned without complaint, helping her into his straps and checking it was comfortable. Clutching at his hand, Hermione and Viktor walked in silence until they were shielded from view by a dense outcrop of pine trees, where, finally, Viktor paused.

'You are ready?'

Hermione nodded cautiously.

Viktor wrapped his arms around her securely, and she wriggled nervously in his grip. He cast her a look that clearly said stop moving and she stilled immediately, her back cracking into a rigid position. They were going to apparate. Hermione groaned inwardly, trying her best to give him a brave smile. This was going to suck.

Viktor closed his eyes and tightened his hold on her… and then everything went black. Their bodies were twisting, and instantly she knew why Viktor had demanded she keep still. The next thing she knew, Hermione was being pressed very hard from all directions; the air was devoid of oxygen, her chest was being crushed; her eyeballs were rolling around inside her skull; there was a wailing inside her head as her ear drums vibrated to a dangerous point. But, just as she thought she was going to vomit up the greek yoghurt she'd consumed for breakfast, a pair of silken lips brushed her forehead and everything stopped spinning.

They were stood outside a striking limestone-brick Georgian town house. A row of precisely pruned topiary bordered the sloped driveway, leading to a heavy green door and an impressive, recently painted white bay window.

'Is this… your home?' Hermione squinted at the perfectly normal looking house. It wasn't anything like she'd been expecting.

'No. We are still in England. This is…' Viktor gazed up at the place with an expression of deep concentration. 'Rich-e-mund.'

Richmond? What in Merlin's name were they doing here?

'Then, who —'

'A friend of the family.' Viktor mumbled, cutting her off and detangling himself from her with a soft chuckle. The strained muscles in his neck suggested he wasn't as relaxed as he'd have her think. She knew a sweaty-palm blot when she saw it, and Viktor was currently dragging his palms over his shorts as though to take off the top layer of his epidermis.

Still none the wiser as to his mystery plan and growing increasingly concerned at his nervous display, Hermione let her bewildered self be dragged up the steps where Viktor tapped a door-knocker that looked curiously like a Griffin. He's hardly going to have a muggle family friend, is he? Hermione glanced at him sheepishly, but Viktor wasn't paying attention. He was focused on the sunlight streaming through the panes of glass on the door.

A few minutes passed before they could hear light footsteps coming from inside. The door swung open and the most severe woman Hermione had ever seen peered back at them. Hermione did a double take. No, surely not? On second glance, it turned out not to be Professor McGonagall, but a witch that looked disturbingly as though she might be the Gryffindor Head of House's twin sister. She wore her greying hair in the same tight-bun and thinned her bloodless lips in the mirror image of McGonagall; accompanied by her small, narrow face and beady eyes she resembled a bird of prey, and it was deeply unnerving. That being said, Hermione could've sworn that the witch's eyes softened for a fraction of a second when she realised who her visitor was.

'Viktor!' A voice that didn't match her outward appearance came from the harsh, pursed mouth. She pronounced his name with a sharp K and a thickly rolled R, leaving Hermione to conclude that she wasn't a South-London native.

'And you must be… Hermione.' Her hazel eyes settled on Hermione, giving the impression that the witch could see straight through her. Surprisingly, the intimidating woman managed what very people, muggle or magical, ever had; she pronounced Hermione's name correctly in the first try. A niggling feeling told Hermione that she wouldn't have to explain the Greek Mythology origins of her unusual name to this witch.

'A pleasure to meet you… Madam,' Hermione said tensely, falling back on the manners her parents had drilled into her since birth.

'Please, call me Mrs Petrović.'

Hermione accepted her cold, bony hand and was immediately filled with memories of her own first weeks at Hogwarts, when her need to prove herself had pushed her to the brink of insomnia. This was a woman who Hermione would've gone to the ends of the earth to impress intellectually.

'Come in,' Mrs Petrović's muted blue robes swept behind her as she turned and marched down the long hallway, her gait purposeful and unusually supple for a woman of her age. Viktor and Hermione followed behind and were led into a neurotically clean kitchen, the back of which was a glass door that opened out onto a veritable jungle of plants both magical and non-magical, all encroaching on an ornate mosaic table that stood on the little gravel terrace. A china cup containing green tea had been left on it. They took a seat while their host fetched the accompanying teapot and watched as it proceeded to float into the air and pour them each a thimble's worth of nearly translucent golden liquid.

'Your introduction, please Viktor.' Despite her soft enunciation, this will clearly an order.

'Hm, yes,' Viktor said quickly, folding his hands into his lap guiltily and sitting up ramrod straight. 'Madam Petrović, as you are knowing this is my girlfriend, Hermione Granger —'

'As you know.' The elder witch corrected.

Viktor frowned and then nodded. 'Yes. As you know, this is my girlfriend, Hermione Granger. She is studying at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and is the brightest witch in her year,' Hermione's cheeks burned at the compliment. 'And Hermione, Madam Petrović was my… governess?'

'Nanny would be more appropriate, Viktor. That is terribly old fashioned.'

Hermione watched as Viktor's pale face went bright pink. Aside from a select few moments together, she'd hardly ever seen Viktor's cheeks aflame; he wasn't an easy person to rattle or get an overtly emotional response from. This witch, however, had clearly been reprimanding him since he was a baby. Hermione was abruptly overcome by the desire to pick Mrs Petrović's brains. Oh, the things she would know about Viktor Krum…

'So, Miss Granger, brightest witch in her year,' Viktor's former nanny shifted her attention to Hermione, causing the object of her penetrating gaze to tighten her fingers around the mug of tea. 'Do you think it kindly that after fourteen years of care my job description is simply that of a nanny?'

Hermione stared at her. Nothing had changed in Mrs Petrović's voice, but it sounded as though… she'd made a joke. Blinking, Hermione laughed nervously and was relieved to receive a brief, unnatural spasm of the lips by way of confirmation.

'I don't know, Mrs Petrović. Maybe we should ask Viktor to elaborate.'

The elder witch nodded thoughtfully and tilted her head in an expectant motion, awaiting Viktor's defence. Despite the pang of guilt at ganging up on him, Hermione felt the familiar tingle of gratification she got from the approval of her elders.

'Madam Petrović was a fantastic nanny,' Viktor said quietly. 'She taught me how to speak English, write the Cyrillic alphabet and cast my first spells. When I was learning to fly she mended my injuries and instructed me as how to heal small wounds and brew pain relief before I could learn it at school. Also… she helped me study Occlumency.'

Hermione's eyes widened. She'd read all about Occlumency, but it seemed an art only a select few could master, and she'd had no idea that Viktor was practiced in the magical act. Privately, Hermione suspected that lesson had come at the behest of Viktor's father and had paid off years later when Viktor himself became a target.

'Wow, really?' She breathed.

'Do not be so easily impressed, child,' Mrs Petrović gave a derisive huff. 'Viktor was an intolerable study at times. His mind was chaotic and angry; it took the best part of six years to achieve a passable level of protection.'

Hermione cast Viktor a weak smile that she hoped conveyed her disbelief, but his embarrassment suggested that perhaps there were truth in those words. Still, to learn Occlumency before he'd even left his teenage years was a real feat, whether he was good at it or not. Hermione had always dreamt of learning the art of defending her mind against intrusion, mostly because she was such an open book. Nevertheless, it answered a lot of her questions about how Viktor and his family had managed to remain so elusive to the outside world and why very few leaks about their private lives had made it out into the public domain. Maybe one day he would teach her.

'Needless to say though, Viktor is very accomplished in other areas,' Mrs Petrović continued after an elongated silence where Viktor did a very good impression of gaping like a fish. Hermione felt a little bad for him. 'So we should not be so hard on him; he is not so ill-behaved anymore that I need to admonish him for past wrongs.'

Viktor straightened in his seat like a child that had just been told they'd done a good job.

'Let us give him a break — tell me about yourself. Illian did not share many details about his son's girlfriend in his note.'

Hermione drained her mug, cleared her throat and began to tell her a paraphrased version of her life story. The witch was impassive the entire time and, since she didn't flinch at the numerous mentions of muggle culture, Hermione deduced that she must be either a half-blood or integrated enough into the muggle society around her not to care.

She spoke at length of her time so far at Hogwarts, more than happy to answer questions about Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, acquaintances of the elder witch sitting opposite her. It was lunchtime before they knew it, and, much to Hermione's displeasure, a huddle of house-elves appeared as if on cue pulling a trolley with cold meats and cheeses on silver plates. They eyed Hermione warily, leading her to wonder whether the Scottish community of elves might in fact liaise with their fellows in the South… was there a nationwide 'be warned' poster with her face against it? She hoped not.

When the clock struck two Hermione shifted impatiently in her seat. Neither had mentioned when she and Viktor might at last head to Bulgaria or whether this was just a fleeting visit. Surely Viktor would have told her if they were staying here instead?

However, she was put out of her misery some fifteen minutes later. Viktor was recounting the events of the World Cup to his former nanny when a deep, baritone voice called out from inside the house. Both Viktor and Mrs Petrović's heads snapped up; having still not learnt more than a few basic phrases in Bulgarian, Hermione had no clue what was being said.

'Is my father,' Viktor whispered to her when their host departed the table to receive the message. 'Am sorry I could not tell you, my father was going behind your Ministry's back… so I had to be in the dark. He was only telling me to be here with you and wait.'

Mrs Petrović returned a few minutes later. 'The connection is now open. Illian has managed to arrange passage through the Floo network to your home for the next ten minutes. You must gather your things quickly, we do not want to be caught before you have made your journey.'

Viktor and Hermione scrambled to their feet and followed her back through the kitchen into the adjoining living room. The focal point of the room was a grand stone fireplace, and Illian Krum's angular face could clearly be seen in the flames, his eyes tracking his son's every step. Viktor said something hastily in Bulgarian and his father vanished.

'You haff travelled by Floo before?' Viktor asked as he scooped up a handful of glittering, silver powder that Mrs Petrović had offered him from a terracotta urn. Catching her off guard, he threw the contents of his palm into the fire, spoke the name of a place she didn't recognise, and catapulted both their bags into the eruption of emerald-green flames.

'No.'

'Ah,' Viktor looked at his mentor and then back at Hermione. 'Maybe is not best to be an international trip first time. Put your arms around me.'

Gladly. Hermione did as he asked and tried not to trip as he backed them into the cramped fireplace. One hand held Hermione firmly in place against his torso, and the other reached out into the urn again. 'Shut your eyes,' Viktor murmured. She scrunched them up instantly, all too happy not to witness what was about to happen. Focus on him. As always, it was soothing to be pressed flush against Viktor; to feel the thump, thump of his heart inside his chest; to be tickled by his warm breath on her skin and to have his intoxicating aroma invade her nostrils. Nonetheless, she was about to be totally out of control, and having heard Harry's horror story of travelling by Floo in their second-year her nerves were undergoing their second workout of the day.

'Elbows in, keep your mouth closed and remain calm.' Mrs Petrović instructed. 'And Hermione, it was a pleasure. I hope you enjoy your time in Bulgaria.'

Hermione was too afraid to open her mouth in case Viktor chose that moment to commence their journey, so she nodded vigorously and hoped it didn't appear rude.

'Be calm,' Viktor's lips ghosted over the tip of her nose as he spoke and she felt his fingers dig into her back, thrusting her so closely into his body that it made it difficult to breathe.

'Goodbye, Madam Petrović.' Viktor said and then tossed the powder at their feet. The fire felt like a warm breeze around her ankles. As clearly as she'd ever heard him speak, Viktor uttered the same address as earlier and they were off.

It was as though an external force had flushed them unceremoniously down a drain. They were spinning — Hermione was sure of it, even though Viktor's embrace was unyielding — and the roaring in her ears was almost unbearably loud. And then, as quickly as the sensation had come on, it stopped. Her whole body was dusty and covered in a clammy, cold sweat and she squeaked as they tumbled out onto a hard stone floor. Viktor bore all of her weight and cushioned the blow.

A scream of excitement overwhelmed the last of Hermione's fraying nerves and she peeled back her eyelids reluctantly just in time to see a flurry of purple robes and long, bronze hair in her blurred peripheral before she was accosted with a hug that cut off her circulation.

'Welcome to Bulgaria!' Ana exclaimed. 'Finally!'

A/N: Writing 'Summer' so far has been a real breath of fresh air. It's freeing not to have to stick within constraints of the plot and spend hours ensuring I don't inadvertently create a plot hole or forget something critical. I can't wait to share the next few chapters with you; there will be a lot of big moments for our favourite characters, and some fun reunions too.

Thanks for the love; it's a pleasure to hear from you all and you say the nicest things.