Thanks for the patience; I managed to get C27 out pretty sharpish, so I gave myself a bit of a break before I started on this one, so that's the reason for the delay. I'll always strive to have an update within 7 days of the previous chapter, and if not my profile will have the expected release date.

Mature warning for later on; it's time for an important conversation. I'm so excited for all you M-enthusiasts to read this one, I think you'll enjoy it!

At long last the room ceased its spinning. Hermione shook her head dazedly and allowed herself to be passed between Ana and Sofija Krum like a rag-doll, shocked to hear that the faint voice returning their kindhearted welcomes was coming from none other than herself. No one had ever been that excited to see her before. The boys weren't typically sentimental and her parents were, for the most part, pragmatic — although Mum was prone to bouts of hysteria, the most iconic being that of the day the Grangers collected their daughter from Kings Cross after her first year. There had been tears a-plenty that afternoon.

'Welcome to Bulgaria, my dear,' Viktor's mother patted her hand soothingly and stepped back so that Hermione could gather herself. Much to her relief, Viktor's hand was still resting on the small of her back and Hermione lent into it, reassured by his touch.

They were in what appeared to be a kitchen. Rather unlike the compact, practical room back home, this reminded Hermione of the sculleries in the stately homes she'd explored with her parents as a child. Polished slate covered the expansive floor in varying shades of charcoal, while the spotless countertops that snaked around the bare stone walls were made of a cherry wood that had been buffed within an inch of its life. Hermione would've continued to gawp if her eye hadn't been caught by a more pressing matter. In the middle of the room was a table that stretched nearly from wall to wall; upon it stood eight or nine house-elves, all peering down at her with the same boggling eyes as Winky and all wearing a crimson uniform with the Krum family coat of arms embroidered above their hearts. Hermione stared at them, and they stared back.

'We don't usually welcome our guests in the kitchens,' Mrs Krum said politely, answering Hermione's unspoken question.

'That fireplace hasn't been used in years…' Ana laughed ruefully and continued in a cheerful tone, 'It's not on the records anymore. This is our elves' domain. Normally guests arrive in the drawing room, but we couldn't connect that to the Floo Network because the Ministry your end kicked up an awful fuss.'

Viktor's frame tensed behind her and Hermione gazed down at her feet guiltily, hiding her face behind a curtain of curls for protection.

'It affords us some privacy for extraordinary circumstances like these.' Viktor's mother added.

Ana snorted derisively and was quieted in an instant by a sharp look from her mother. Hermione felt some of the tension in her body dissipate as Sofija asked, 'How was your trip?'

'Wonderful, although I'm really looking forward to sleeping in a proper bed again.' Hermione said, smiling when everyone, including Viktor, laughed at her comment. Every year she was reminded why they only camped for a week: her back was riddled with knots from laying on the ground every night.

'That we can provide,' Sofia smiled, 'We have prepared a room for you in the East wing with Ana. We thought you'd like to be near to the library, and the bathroom down there will be for your private use.'

Hermione hadn't expected to be allowed to share a room with Viktor — the thought, in fact, had made her exceedingly nervous — but a whole different wing? However, she was a guest and she would remember her manners; Hermione whispered her thanks and wondered privately how large a home had to be to warrant separation into 'wings'. She hoped Viktor's room wasn't that far away.

'I'm afraid that I will need to leave shortly, there is a patient requiring my care at the hospital. Can we get you anything, Hermione?'

Hermione looked between Sofija and the hoard of eager elves at her beck and call; they were all hanging over the table's edge prepared to leap into action at the first hint of an order. Although it went against every bone in her body, she replied, 'A cold pumpkin juice would be really appreciated,' and watched as the elves scattered to fulfil her request.

At that moment two gigantic black shapes erupted through the open door, barreling past Ana and launching themselves at Hermione. A scream had escaped her mouth before she knew what had happened, and in an instant she was being nuzzled, licked and nudged from every direction possible.

'Baron, Josef — off!'

To Hermione's surprise, it wasn't Ana or Sofija that addressed the two dogs: it was Viktor himself. They dropped to the floor obediently and Hermione watched wide-eyed as Viktor stepped around her, crouched and kissed them both on their large, silken heads. Now that they weren't invading her personal space, Hermione could make out the distinctive tricolour markings of the Bernese Mountain Dog breed. One, the larger of the two, bore a slightly goofy expression, heightened by Viktor's affectionate greeting, and the other had an almost noble mien as he bowed his muzzle to welcome his master.

'Josef?'

Ana smirked. 'Viktor is unable to look anywhere other than Quidditch for inspiration. This goofball —' She nodded towards the largest, 'Shares a name with Josef Wronski, inventor of a move Viktor has been obsessing over for years. Hasn't he told you about his dogs?'

'Kind of, I recall mention of dogs, but I didn't know they were his…'

'I do hope you speak to Hermione about more than Quidditch, Viktor.' Sofija said, and Viktor huffed defensively, though Hermione spotted a touch of pink in his cheeks. If only they knew what we talked about, she thought with a chuckle. Deep in the recesses of her mind she remembered a conversation about the extensive collection of animals at his Bulgarian home, though he'd never mentioned he partook in their care. He'd been holding out on her.

Viktor looked up from where he was attempting to give both dogs a belly rub at once and jabbed an accusatory thumb at Ana, 'They are the only normal animals in this house's menagerie.' Hermione only faintly registered his comment for she was too busy appreciating this side to him — one she couldn't recollect having seen in him before, and that could only be described as gooey.

'Menagerie?'

'You will see,' Viktor muttered and rose to his feet.

'Are they not magical then?' Hermione asked as Baron, the more reserved of the two, sniffed at her sandals. 'I didn't think wizards kept pets that didn't have powers of sorts; are they like crups?'

There was nothing about Josef or Baron that looked unusual: there were no forked tails like the English-bred wizard dogs, Crups, and neither had the knowing twinkle in their eyes that Crooks had.

'No,' Viktor shrugged, 'I got them after my third year at Durmstrang. Ana was always surrounded by the creatures when we were growing up and I was wanting one to call my own, but not something that would bite my hand off or electrocute me if I was not concentrating. You see, they are brothers… and many people say they remind them of me and Valentin.'

Hermione snickered under her breath. The resemblance was certainly uncanny. Josef was undoubtedly hyperactive and nutty enough to be Valentin, and she suspected behind Baron's cautious demeanour was an equally playful personality like her Viktor.

Viktor's mother interrupted her reverie by kissing her on the cheek and addressing them all, 'Darlings, I must go now. Illian will be in his study, and I'll return in time for dinner I hope. Don't hesitate to ask one of the elves if you need anything.'

She departed in a graceful swirl of velvet robes and left the three of them surrounded by the entirety of the Krum house-elf contingency, three of which were presenting a glass of juice to Hermione as though it were a precious antiquity. She accepted it gratefully and shot a pointed look at Viktor who appeared amused at the interaction and no doubt recalled the last time Hermione's opinion of elf enslavement had come up in conversation.

'I am going to unpack and shower—'

'I'll show Hermione around if you like little brother. I'm sure she's sick of you by now.' Hermione did her best to appear affronted by the insinuation, but Viktor just laughed and seemed relieved that he wouldn't have to do the honours. Lugging their bags onto his shoulders he shuffled out, his two dogs glued to his heels.

Thankfully, Ana's interpretation of a tour did not include dragging Hermione around parlour room after parlour room, pointing out the antique objects that had been passed down in her family for centuries and commenting on the furniture. Instead, Ana scurried through much of the western wing without pointing out anything at all, evidently heading for a very specific goal. Hermione had to skip to keep pace with the taller witch as they flew down the long, winding corridors, eyeballing her opulent surroundings wherever possible. As they passed the largest room on the ground floor Ana waved a dismissive hand and grunted out, 'That's my mother's drawing room. If you want somewhere to lounge after dinner you can come here. There's usually someone in there to talk to.'

Unlike any of the other rooms in the house, this one created an impression of frequent use. Even Hermione, ill-placed to identify period design, could see the hallmarks of Georgian and Victorian decor. The walls were an inviting duck-egg blue and the room itself was filled with plush furnishings, including a crushed velvet chaise lounge and a grandiose leather Chesterfield sofa. Above an ornate white fireplace was a huge portrait that had Hermione stopping in her tracks. Three figures were moving inside the frame. Hermione recognised Viktor's father instantly, and she quickly deduced the older wizard at his side, his hand clamped onto the shoulder of a young boy, must be Viktor's grandfather. He had a thick, bristly moustache and a hard penetrating gaze, though the eyes that were observing the youngest of the three were filled with adoration. As the two witches entered the portrait's occupants greeted them in a tongue Hermione didn't recognise.

'Is that…'

'Viktor, yes.' Ana said, looking up at portrait thoughtfully. 'He must've been about three of four there. Before he grew into his nose.'

Hermione snorted. She had to agree; the dark-haired child's face was all nose. Through the soft cheeks and guarded expression she could see glimpses of the older Viktor and she approached eagerly to get a better view. Upon closer inspection she decided one couldn't exactly label him as cute, but he was an unusual looking boy at that age, and the portrait-Viktor's eyes tracked her with an intensity that would one day set him apart from every seeker in the world.

'I thought only people who had… died could become portraits?' She pondered aloud.

'Usually that's the case. It's quite common for Pureblood families to have important members of their line immortalised at multiple stages in their life; their essence was captured at that moment in time, and they retain all their prior memories before that point, but have no knowledge of what comes afterwards — unless we tell them, and I'm convinced they don't always remember it. Viktor comes here to speak to Grandfather whenever he's home.'

Hermione looked sadly at Viktor's younger self; there was definitely no recognition there, and he observed her warily. Petulant and sullen: that's what Thomas had said and it certainly fit.

'Hermione…' Ana said in a warning undertone, 'I advise you not to come and speak to any of the portraits alone… First off, this version of Viktor doesn't speak English and my family have not always been so… tolerant of outsiders, and I include Muggle-borns in that too, although I am ashamed to admit it.'

'What changed?' Hermione whispered.

'Gellert Grindelwald.' Ana muttered darkly. It was the first time she'd heard anyone bar Viktor mention the tyrant she more readily associated with Professor Dumbledore.

Hermione cast one last, longing look at the juvenile incarnation of her boyfriend. One thing was for sure; she was going to locate the posthumous portrait of his grandfather — speaking to the wizard was just too tempting. She needed to know what he knew about Voldemort and how to protect those she loved from succumbing to his power a second time round.

The next hallway they passed through was lined with more hanging portraits, displaying a visual timeline of the Krum family through the ages. It wasn't hard to see where Viktor had picked up his striking features; every male in the Krum line had those high cheekbones, a prominent jawline and a hooked nose. Escaping the shrewd (and oftentimes verbal) evaluation of his entire extended family, the two witches headed into one of the most breathtaking libraries Hermione ever seen — second perhaps only to the one at Hogwarts. This was a collection that had been amassed over centuries with a devotion she knew only too well; row upon row of books filled the dense oak shelves, reaching all the way to the whitewashed ceiling in a towering display of knowledge. Hermione shivered in anticipation.

Ana trailed after her as she examined the spines of the oldest books, her skin tingling as she noted countless titles on ancient magic and lore, some that she'd only dared to hope she might read one day, and offered insight into how some of the rarer tomes had come into her family's ownership. Most had been acquired by Viktor's great-great-great grandfather, an accomplished name in the field of Transfiguration and consummate bookworm.

Eventually Ana's patience began to wane and she insisted that they continue onto the pièce de résistance of her home. Said highlight turned out to be a modest glasshouse constructed on the back lawn of their property. The view upon opening the creaky door blew Hermione away. Inside was a cultivation of Ana's life's work so far along with a childhood infatuation with magical creatures. Unsurprisingly, someone had worked an expansion charm on the interior and it was as though she'd walked into the Great Hall, though far less extravagant. Ana had hung sketches of dragon scales and hippogriff wings on the glass panes with a permanent sticking spell, while the cluttered desk space was covered in test tubes containing specimens from a multitude of species Hermione hadn't come across in her studies. The sight reminded her of the unsavoury articles that were on display in Professor Snape's dungeon classroom.

'Over here!'

Hermione followed the shout through an adjoining door and found herself in a forested habitat. Ana was crouched by the trunk of a Wiggentree and crawling all over her robes were a colony of Bowtruckles. Hermione's jaw dropped.

'When I was working out in Germany their home was threatened, so I brought them back here to live a peaceful life,' Ana explained, beckoning her over and opening a palm to reveal one of the tiny flat-faced stick insects dozing away.

Ana was in seventh heaven as she flitted between rooms of the unassuming greenhouse; each housed a different habitat, strictly nurtured to match the needs of whatever weird and wonderful creature that inhabited it. After stroking the satin soft tail feathers of a Golden Snidget ('the only one of its kind in Bulgaria, Hermione!') and narrowly avoiding being nipped by a disgruntled salamander, Hermione slumped into plastic chair and stared at the one door they hadn't been through yet.

'What's in there?'

At this point she would've believed Ana if she'd told her it contained one of Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts. After witnessing a Grindylow mating pair, a cradle's worth of Puffskeins, a murtlap infant and even an Occamy on the brink of hatching, nothing could've surprised her.

'My mother's greenhouse,' Ana said indifferently. 'You can look, if you wish. She's growing some experimental species to supply the Potioneers at her hospital in hopes of finding cures to her terminal cases. I suppose it's quite fascinating if you like that kind of thing.'

Hermione was about to scramble to her feet when her stomach rumbled loudly, startling them both.

'Oops,' Ana grinned, 'We ought to go back to the house before my little brother thinks I have kidnapped you. Dinner should be served soon.'

The walk back was much more relaxed. Hermione was almost disappointed when they stopped at the end of a quiet corridor on the furthest side of the house and Ana showed her into the bedroom that had been prepared for her stay. It was tastefully decorated and somewhat sparse in comparison to the rest of the rooms Hermione had seen. The only thing that mattered, however, was the plush four-poster in the centre. The mountainous volume of cushions was the most inviting thing she'd seen all afternoon.

'I'll leave you to it then. My brother will come and fetch you for dinner, so chill out for a bit.'

Alone for the first time in almost twenty-four hours, Hermione dropped onto the bed and stared at the domed ceiling. Her eyes glossed over the baroque carvings that bordered the sections where wall met ceiling and closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the quiet and the feel of the freshly-laundered sheets against her skin. She'd known all along that Viktor belonged to a different world; though, perhaps, not this wildly different. It was testament to his humility that she'd never once felt inferior in his presence.

Calm once more, she rummaged through her bag and found a dress worthy of dining with the Krums. She privately hoped it wasn't going to be too formal an affair; she was too exhausted to put on her airs and graces.

A little while later there was a knock at the door and Viktor called out her name. She'd had time to potter around the bedroom, examining the contents of the two bedside tables (empty) and poking her head out onto the balcony that looked out over the extensive grounds. From her elevated position she could see right over the greenhouse and beyond; in the distance a sprawling mountain range swallowed the last of the sunset. Amongst other things, she'd freshened up and attempted to apply the odd touch of make-up to her plain face — just as Ginny had shown her.

'Oh,' Viktor exhaled softly as she opened the door, his eyes roaming over her and making her feel self-conscious. 'You look very pretty.'

'Is this okay for dinner?' She asked and nervously plucked at the hem of the strapless white dress.

Viktor's answering nod told her that, yes, categorically, it was more than okay. Relaxing a little, Hermione took Viktor's hand and they wandered back down the staircase and towards the dining room Ana had indicated earlier. Viktor's parents and sister were already seated when they entered, and his mother smiled fondly as he pulled out a chair for her and waited until she was comfortable before he slid into the seat at her right side.

'Good evening, Hermione.' Her father spoke so faintly that, if she'd not been glancing in his direction and caught the movement of his lips, his words might've been imperceptible to her ears. She felt herself blush awkwardly.

'Hello, Mr Krum. It's nice to see you again.'

'Hermione, darling; we asked the house-elves to make something special for your first night with us,' Sofija explained as the ceramic bowls in front of each of them suddenly overflowed with a decadent meat stew.

'Is Gyuvech,' Viktor ducked his head to whisper in her ear. 'Traditional Bulgarian dish, not fancy, but very good.' He added with a wink, and she sighed happily in response.

In an effort not to offend the house-elves who'd conjured up such a treat for her, Hermione ate until only scraps of vegetable were left, and then, to her horror, the bowl re-filled itself. Viktor laughed and nudged her with his elbow. 'Do not make yourself sick. They will want you to try their speciality after this: Baklava.'

For the most part dinner was a quiet affair. Mrs Krum carried most of the conversation, peppering Hermione and Viktor with questions about their holiday, as well as inquiring as to her impressions of Ana's 'little zoo'. They retired to Sofija's drawing room after a round of dessert wine and Hermione stretched out as guest of honour on the chaise lounge whilst Ana switched on the Wizarding Wireless and Viktor challenged his father to a game of Wizards chess.

In spite of the opulence around her, Hermione felt quite at home. There was no pretence with the Krums. Their silence was comfortable, and now and then the tranquil atmosphere would be enlivened by Ana's spirited laughter as Mr Krum systematically took out all of Viktor's chess pieces. Neither man was discomforted by the watchful gazes of the three witches, and Hermione found her eyes flitting between Viktor and his father, waiting to see who would be the first to crack.

'Hermione?'

She dragged her attention away from the chess board and acknowledged Viktor's mother with a gentle inclination of her head.

'What plans do you and Viktor have for the last night of your stay?'

I don't know — crying, maybe? 'He hasn't said.'

Sofija's laughter sounded like a peal of bells. It was infectious and Hermione beamed in spite of herself. 'Yes, that is my Viktor. Much like his father. I wished to invite you to a fundraising event for my charity — I haven't asked Viktor yet, he's always such a grump at these events. I anticipate you may temper his mood on the night.'

'Will I need a ball gown? I didn't bring anything suitable with me…'

She had the sneaking suspicion that not even her Yule Ball gown would be appropriate for the extravagance of an event like this. Hermione swallowed thickly.

'That is no trouble, dear. I had hoped Viktor would spare some time in his schedule to allow me to take you to Sofia for a morning with just us girls. My daughter isn't known for her leniency when it comes to shopping, so she won't allow you to suffer.'

Hermione gigged nervously. A shopping trip with the Krum women? Nothing had ever sounded so daunting in her life. She'd rather sit her O. every day for the rest for the life. Despite her claims otherwise, Hermione knew Viktor's mother would be disappointed if she turned her down. Besides, if she was going to be a permanent fixture in Viktor's life, she had to make an effort with his family. She'd struck gold, but she didn't want to disturb the pleasant understanding they already had.

'I'd like that,' Hermione said finally. She hoped it sounded sincere.

She was rewarded with a dazzling smile, and Mrs Krum clapped her hands together in delight, a house-elf materialising in front of them at the gesture.

'Ulrik? Our guest is a little young for champagne, but perhaps a tray of chamomile tea before bed is in order, to celebrate?'

Many hours later Viktor conceded defeat at long last. Glancing at the clock, he clambered to his feet and stretched languorously before approaching Hermione.

'Can I accompany you back upstairs?' And, when his father's circumspect stare fixed on the twosome, added, 'To say goodnight.'

Hermione felt herself flush and nodded, accepting his hand. She bade the rest of the family goodnight and they made their way up the spiral wooden staircase to the eastern wing. When she stepped inside her room Viktor remained outside, rubbing the back of his neck in an uncharacteristic display of nerves.

'Aren't you coming in?' She asked.

'I should not. Mum will probably send Ana soon to check that I am not hiding underneath your bed.'

Hermione pressed a fist to her lips to stop herself from laughing. Worlds apart, but their mothers were exactly the same. Maybe it was for the best.

'Well, goodnight then.'

After a moment's hesitation, Viktor closed the gap between them and cupped her cheeks in his palms, staring down at her passively. He watched her wordlessly for what felt like an age, and then, brushing her hair out of her face, he kissed her softly on the lips. His touch was gentle and savouring, and blissfully sweet. When he left some minutes later, Hermione watched him go with a beaming smile that made her jaw ache.

…

Hermione padded down the hallway, tangling her hair into a loose plait as she walked. Twice on her way back from the bathroom she'd accidentally opened the wrong door, thinking it was her bedroom, and found herself peering in on an uninhabited storage room or bedroom.

Eventually she turned a brass door knob and found herself once more in the pretty room Sofija had prepared for her stay. Hermione wondered over to the glass door that opened out onto the balcony and stepped through it, her toes curling on the cold wood, but the rest of her exposed skin was warmed by the nighttime summer air. The grounds looked even more expansive in the dark; the lawn stretched for as far as she could see, and the little treehouse that Ana had pointed out in her tour was still visible amongst a thicket of Balkan pines. The air was still and noiseless, and nothing moved outside. It was peaceful and Hermione remained there, leaning on the metal railing for what could've been as long as an hour before she trotted back inside and pulled across the heavy curtains.

She was just inching back the covers when she heard a soft knocking sound. Frowning, she ambled to the door and opened it a crack: there was no one there. Tap, tap. Hermione turned and stared at the balcony door. Surely not…

'Viktor?' She hissed.

'Can you let me in?' His distinctive voice came from behind the curtains.

Hermione skidded across the polished oak floorboards and drew back the curtains enough to open the door and let Viktor squeeze through. He was topless and wearing the same pair of shorts he'd worn the first time they met. His broom was rested over one shoulder and she surmised it wasn't the first time he'd used his talents to sneak around the house at night.

'What are you doing here?' She whispered as though his parents were stood outside, their ears pressed against the door.

A mischievous look passed over Viktor's features and he shrugged. 'I was wanting to cuddle.'

Well that seems reasonable, Hermione conceded. His parents, other than making a point by keeping them in distant rooms, seemed mostly at ease to let the two of them continue as they pleased. A niggling feeling told Hermione that something had passed between Viktor and his father before dinner, a warning to 'be on his best behaviour', most likely. First strike.

Hermione gave him a shy smile and darted to the bed. Just as she had done in her first year at Hogwarts, she had to boost herself with a little jump to be able to clamber onto the duvet. At first touch the coverings were as soft as silk, and she languished for a moment in the feeling against her skin. A snicker reminded her that she wasn't alone, and she glanced up at Viktor in embarrassment. His long legs made the process of climbing into bed effortless, and Viktor crawled over towards her, before twisting to lay on his side.

'Come here,' He said softly.

Hermione shuffled back to meet him, pressing the curve of her spine into the hard muscle of his torso. Even when they'd snuggled in their spot at Hogwarts, they'd never been able to do so like this; they'd always been on edge and had to maintain the appearance of innocence in case someone came ambling through the trees and discovered them.

'Nox,' Viktor murmured and the lights went out.

In the dark Hermione's senses were heightened. The sheets rustled as Viktor made himself comfortable, draping an arm over her waist and nestling her securely against his body. Every inch of her seemed to be alive; her nerve endings were sparking, and as Viktor absently brushed his knuckles up and down the side of her thigh and over her hip, goosebumps erupted on the skin under her cotton pyjamas where he had touched. The thick curtains blocked out even the moonlight, so it was impossible to predict his next touch until he was there, ghosting his lips over the sensitive skin of her neck or trailing his fingers down her trembling arms. However, the darkness also provided her protection, and Hermione felt braver than usual without Viktor's perceptive eyes tunnelling into hers. She gathered her courage and said under her breath:

'Viktor, do you remember when I asked you if you wanted to… have sex?'

There was a sharp inhalation of breath from behind her hair. If she'd not just blithely asked something so shocking she might've thought he was being asphyxiated by her curls.

'Yes,' Viktor chuckled, his warm breath tickling her neck. 'I thought I was having a good dream.'

The memory that followed still flustered Hermione. Nonetheless, she wasn't going to let herself become awkward or uncomfortable; the time had come to be honest with Viktor, and to hear his honesty in return.

'Yeah, sorry about that,' Hermione was glad he couldn't see her scarlet cheeks. 'It made me think, though. A lot, actually. I wanted to ask…'

'If I haff had sex before?' Viktor's guess was accurate. She nodded, and when she realised he couldn't see it, squeaked a breathy 'yes'.

'Da. I haff,' Viktor answered simply, his hand stilling on her hip. He gave it a gentle squeeze and Hermione jammed her eyes shut — her breathing was beginning to accelerate and heat was pooling in her stomach. His revelation made everything freeze for a moment, and it was just her and her thoughts. Did that bother her? Had she really expected any other answer? Before she could formulate a response, Viktor continued.

'Not a lot, you must not let that clever brain of yours conjure up scenarios. Between an all boys school and playing Quidditch, there was not much time for girls. There was only one; when I was fifteen. She is still living a few villages away.'

Hermione flattened her hand over his, stilling his movements. She wanted to have a clear head for this conversation. 'As you know, I've never… done that. But you have, and now I'm making you wait. Doesn't it feel like I'm denying you something you're used to? It's our anniversary next month and still the thought of… that makes me so nervous.'

It sounded so much more eloquent and cohesive in her mind, but the moment the words tumbled from her lips she'd never felt so young and inexperienced. Hadn't she once imagined what it might be like to have Viktor cradled between her thighs? That thought made her shiver in anticipation, so why did the reality of acting on her imagination make her brain turn to mush?

'No,' Viktor said emphatically, 'Do not convince yourself otherwise, Hermione. As we are being honest I will not deny that I would like to have sex with you one day, but I am not so much of a beast that I would force you before you are ready. Sometimes I am a wizard like all the others and I can get carried away with touching you… is hard to think properly when you kiss me hard or when I am aroused, but that does not mean when you say things should stop that I am feeling like you are denying me. I can wait.'

'But —'

'No buts.'

Hermione's lips twitched gingerly and she was grateful for the darkness once more. His words were reassuring, but the sentiment had had an even stronger effect. A surge of affection threatened to constrict her airways and she smiled to herself. Even the most patient of boys would eventually snap, she was sure of it, but for the time being Viktor was willing to wait. The question was, how would she know when she was ready?

'Equally, you should not be nervous. You will enjoy it a lot, when you are ready — I hope. For me is another way to show you that I love you, to make you feel good… I am able to demonstrate my attraction to you.'

Hermione hadn't thought about it that way. All the giggling and whispering she'd overheard amongst the older girls in the common room painted a picture of sex as breaking the rules; it was something to speak about in a hushed tone, not open and honestly. Her mother's words about maturity rang true. By now Hermione could predict how Viktor would react to certain topics, but this wasn't black and white; one moment he was playful, and the next he was deadly serious. His sincerity washed away some of her lingering nerves.

'What are we going to do when we're apart then?' She whispered. Granted, they'd been intimate infrequently even when together, but something had passed between them of late that convinced her that it wouldn't always be like that. Whereas before she was content with Viktor's kisses, hand-holding and cuddles, there was a layer to their relationship now that was born from a deeper intimacy. She suspected it came from her own hormonal changes and… growing up.

'I will haff to make do with my hand,' Viktor laughed and Hermione couldn't help but join in, recalling how she'd stumbled upon him doing just that. That encounter had been one of the most erotic moments of their relationship.

'And…' Another wave of bravery overtook her and she'd spoken before she had time to register the licentious tone of her question. 'What is it that you think of when you're… doing that?'

If Viktor was taken aback by her daring, he didn't give any indication, though she could sense the beginnings of his arousal stirring inside his shorts, throbbing against the back of her thigh as it swelled. He liked that she was becoming bolder.

'It varies…'

'Would you… tell me?' Hermione said quietly. Everything in his rich, husky timbre was arousing to her, and she found she wanted to hear him. There was no nervousness now, just intrigue.

'Truly?'

Hermione took a deep, calming breath and then wriggled against him, hoping the action was seductive and not inept. She wanted him to know she wasn't going to make a run for it if he shared his fantasies — she was a big girl, she could handle it. Besides, she wanted to know what went on in that elusive mind of his.

Viktor's hand dipped between them and he spread his fingers over the curve of her bum. 'The time you visited me on the ship is my favourite… thing to think of. Your mouth is extraordinary —'

'— But I had no idea what I was doing!' Hermione stammered in surprise.

'It was because you wanted to that it was amazing. And, you should not be so hard on yourself. I will haff you know that it was incredible; your tongue is not just good at arguing.'

Viktor's erection pulsated as if to agree. Hermione felt herself flush from head to toe and a bubble of pride and smugness blossomed inside it. Maybe she wasn't so fumbling after all.

'What else?' She said in a barely audible whisper.

'I dream that I am able to explore all of you. I would like to see you naked and kiss you all over…'

Hermione could feel him trembling behind her as he paused. Deducing he was about to admit something he was wary about her reacting poorly to, Hermione pushed her bottom backwards into his erection and nearly giggled when Viktor groaned. She'd long suspected he had a thing for her backside; he touched her there unconsciously an awful lot.

'Yes?'

'What you have done for me, I am wanting to do for you. With my mouth.'

Time stood still. Hermione's breathing caught in her throat and her vision swam, the darkness around her feeling oppressive now rather than empowering. The Gryffindor girls didn't talk about that. Logically, Hermione had reasoned that men must return the 'favour', but there had been no hint to confirm it before now. Was it more scandalous than the other way around?

'Why?' She managed to squeak out.

Viktor shuffled behind her and she felt the knuckles of his other hand skim her backside as he rearranged himself. 'I want… to taste you.'

All of a sudden Hermione felt very out of her depth. She couldn't reason with herself why, but the prospect of such an act was scarier than having his fingers inside her, or bringing him to orgasm with her hand or mouth. Despite herself, Hermione quivered at the thought. Oh god. She was going to pass out.

'Is too much?' Viktor murmured into her neck and she squealed involuntarily. He chuckled and latched onto her earlobe, his hot tongue curling over the fragile skin. That delicious heat was building inside her again, and the ache between her legs was greater than it had ever been. Apparently her body liked talking about sexual acts, even if her mind was freaking out. Viktor sensed this too, as his once motionless had returned to its tender caress, working its way over her hip and onto her stomach.

'You asked what I will do… but what will you do when we are apart?' Viktor prompted. He didn't sound anything like himself: it was almost a growl. Both the question and his tone sent a fizzle of arousal through Hermione's gut that had her scrambling to reach for him. She caught his hair first and tangled her fingers into, tugging his head down roughly.

'I…'

'Is normal, you know,' Viktor said. 'Haff you never touched herself?'

Of course not! 'No.'

'Then let me show you.'

Viktor's naked torso was scalding against her back through the thin material of her pyjama top. The hand that had been freeing himself from being squashed against her bum came up to gently cup her breast, rolling it in his palm and lightly pinching her hardening nipple; it seemed as though her chest and her groin were connected, for even the slightest touch made her ache. Suddenly, she felt the need to press her thighs together; she'd never felt this wet down there before. Viktor splayed the fingers of his other hand over her stomach, then dipped down again to give her hip another appreciative stroke. Hooking his thumb in the waistband of her pyjama shorts, Viktor carefully pulled and Hermione lifted herself from the mattress to allow him to slip them down over her hips. It was the first time she'd been in just her underwear with him, and she felt vulnerable… and extremely sensitive. His motions were patient and attentive, despite the stiff erection burying itself into the crease of bum.

Hermione moaned as he nipped at her jawline and felt an answering sound from him that made her core tighten in anticipation. Then he was sliding his long fingers between her thighs, nudging at her flesh for her to make room for his hand; she lifted her leg awkwardly, but was quickly rewarded for her acquiescence when his thumb grazed over the sensitive nub of nerve endings there. He rubbed it in agonisingly slow circles and Hermione felt the ache building and building, much faster than before. She gasped. Instinctively, Hermione rocked against his hand, her pace growing frantic when she felt two fingers dip inside her. She was surprised to feel how wet she was and he must've been too if his groan into her hair was any indication.

'Please,' She whined, desperate to embrace the relief that orgasm would bring her. It felt so good, so right. There was nothing shameful about it — so how would it feel if his fingers were his tongue instead? That thought was all it took to bring Hermione to the edge. Crying out in abandonment, Hermione felt the building pleasure explode, followed by a tide of ecstasy that crested and filled her insides with a warmth that spread from her groin to her fingertips. She bucked against his hand, unable — and unwilling — to prevent the residual spasms occurring inside her as she came down from her high. Would she be able pleasure herself like that, with her own fingers? It didn't seem likely.

Laughing breathlessly as her body was flooded with endorphins, Hermione blindly groped around, searching for a hold on him. Her palm bumped against his forearm and she used it as a guiding point, reaching around her with her right hand to locate his erection. As though reading her mind, Viktor said, 'I am very close… will you…' and she ducked her hand into his shorts, her fingers curling around him. As always, she marvelled at how his skin there could be velvet smooth and feverishly hot, as well as unyielding in its firmness.

'Wait —' Viktor uttered a minute later, his hips continuing to snap forward into her fist of their own volition.

'What?' Hermione mumbled. He'd interrupted the vivid fantasy of what was going on behind her inside her mind.

Viktor's hands fumbled for her underwear and she froze. After their conversation? No. Don't panic. His movements were frenzied and uncontrolled, a far cry from his earlier deliberate fondling — it was testament to how close to losing control he was.

'Take off your pants,' Viktor croaked. Hermione bit down on her bottom lip and, in spite of the way her head was spinning and the way her heart was beating a tattoo against her sternum, shimmied out of her sensible white knickers. He wasn't about to go back on his word; he was too honourable for that, no matter how aroused he was.

All of a sudden, Hermione felt something pressing into her left bum cheek. It was his erection. The tip slid against her naked flesh and Hermione had to gulp for air. The sensation of his arousal on her bare skin for the first time was almost too overwhelming, and for a moment she was close to hyperventilating. The leaking tip slipped and slid over her as he pumped himself to completion, his hoarse groan the only warning she had before his release spilled over onto her. Unlike what she'd imagined, the substance was warm against her skin and not as unpleasant as she'd anticipated; the fact he'd wanted to finish on her caused a conflicting barrel of emotions inside her, the overriding one being that of heady exhilaration.

For a long time the only noise she could hear was a blend of their heavy breathing. Then, Viktor mumbled a cleansing charm, leaving her skin feeling almost bereft, and more than a little sensitive. She wanted him to stay — to sleep like this, naked from the waist below as she was, seemed like the most natural thing after what they'd just done. However, after what felt like an hour of cuddling and conversing in whispers, Viktor extracted himself and wiggled out of bed, cursing when he stabbed his toe on something solid hidden in the darkness. Hermione giggled nervously and reached out blindly for him.

'I cannot kiss you without turning the lights on,' Viktor said, a hint of irritation in his voice and Hermione giggled harder. He sounded cross with himself.

'That's okay. I'll give you double the good morning kisses, then.' She whispered back.

'I love you.' Viktor replied softly, and then she saw him disappear through the curtains, his loping frame illuminated by a slither of moonlight for the briefest of moments. Turning over in bed, Hermione touched her lips as though imagining he had just kissed her goodnight, and buried her face into her sumptuous pillow. There was something undeniably erotic about sleeping naked, so as she drifted off she made no move to find her underwear. She wanted her last thought to be of Viktor and where he'd just been.

…

The next morning Hermione woke absolutely certain of two things. Firstly, she couldn't feel her feet because an enormous dog was snoozing on top of them, and secondly, she'd never had such a good nights sleep in her life.

Wriggling her toes to dislodge her snoring protector, Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin when a short, skinny house-elf appeared at the foot of her bed. Baron awoke at her shriek and barked until he realised the intruder wasn't a foe, and then lowered his head back onto his paws.

'Vanyo is being at the services of the young Master's witch,' The elf squeaked. 'What is you wanting for breakfast, miss?'

Startled, Hermione simply blinked at… him? 'Erm, toast would be fine, thank you.'

'Yes, miss! Breakfast is being served in Mistress' drawing room, we makes it right away!'

And he vanished.

Hermione was rather proud of herself for locating the drawing room by her own means. She wasn't sure whether the Krums expected proper dress at the breakfast table (dressing gowns were perfectly acceptable at home) so she donned one of her less threadbare jumpers over her pyjama top and hoped for the best. She needn't have worried; the only Krum present was Ana, and she was hunched on the sofa nursing a cup of tea in a set of purple flannel pyjamas.

'Good morning,' She said, her voice still groggy from sleep.

'Morning.' Hermione perched on the other end of the sofa and helped herself to some of the freshly buttered toast on the coffee table. A pile of crisp newspapers had been placed neatly at one end and Hermione blinked as she recognised the Daily Prophet amongst more local titles.

On the front page was an old photo of Viktor from the world cup. He scowled at the camera and shoved a hand in front of his face, using his floppy fringe to shield his eyes from the photographer. Taking a bite of marmite toast, Hermione pulled the paper into her lap and read the headline:

SHOCK STEAL: WIMBOURNE WASPS SIGN SEEKER KRUM

As Viktor had predicted it hadn't taken long for the news to break. Thankfully, it seemed as though everyone was excited about the move. It was a stellar thing to have a promising young seeker in the British League, the reporter claimed. With Skeeter still flying under the radar maybe Viktor would be able to enjoy some impartial press for a while. Ana scoffed, tearing Hermione from her daydream and verbalising her exact thought on that matter.

'Don't know why my mother and father still subscribe to that rubbish,' She muttered between sips of tea.

'Why do they? Viktor already told me your father disapproves of it.'

Ana shrugged. 'They took out the subscription when Viktor started out at Hogwarts, ostensibly to stay up to date with goings on in your country. Now I think my mother reads it hoping there won't be any more bad news. Father won't even touch it.'

Hermione privately agreed. She had a love hate relationship with the publication. Nevertheless, she couldn't afford to be out of the loop anymore. They'd been publishing lies about Harry and Professor Dumbledore since school had closed for the summer.

Viktor sloped in a little while later dressed in his Bulgaria team jumper and rubbing his eyes sleepily. 'Good morning,' He said to the room at large and dug into a bowl of porridge that had been delivered a few minutes prior to his arrival. When he'd perked up a little he cast Hermione a conspiratorial smile that made her skin tingle and said, 'Looking forward to a day of sightseeing?'

'Oh absolutely! Where are we going? When do we start?'

Ana sniggered and threw the Daily Prophet across the room and into her brother's lap, cutting his answer short. 'You're front page news, Vik.'

'Oh for —'

'It's all over our news as well. You're going to be fighting them off today.'

Hermione watched as Viktor's features twinged guiltily, and then he looked at her with a carefully blank expression. 'We will be visiting the Krushuna Falls, the Rila Monastery and the Tsarevets Fortress, if we are having enough time. And I will use a glamour if necessary.' He added in a growl.

Ana merely looked amused.

'I'll join you for the waterfalls, if you don't mind Mr Tourist Guide. It's good hunting ground for breeding Hippocampus pairs,' Ana said cheerfully, 'Let me know when you're leaving. I've got some work to do first.'

Hermione watched her go in quiet contemplation. She hadn't considered that Viktor's revelation could have such imminent implications for them. It was ill-timed for certain, but she couldn't hold that against him. It was always going to be the case.

'They haff… already contacted me for an exclusive interview,' Viktor said when Ana had left.

'Are you going to do it?'

Viktor paused with his spoon hanging in the air. 'I do not know. There is an inevitability with these things. I suppose I will haff to at some point.'

'At least it'll be on your terms.'

Viktor looked at her thoughtfully, and then returned to his breakfast. They didn't speak again until Hermione got to her feet and announced that she was going to shower and prepare for the day.

'When should I be ready?' She hovered by the door, checking neither of his parents were about to burst forth, and then accosted him with with her aforementioned promise of double the usual quota of good morning kisses. It wasn't often she was able to catch Viktor off-guard, and this was one of those spectacular times — he nearly tumbled off the chaise lounge and only managed to catch himself at the last moment by grabbing onto her thigh.

Hermione squealed as she was pulled into his lap. Viktor's porridge bowl went flying and he grunted at the sudden weight on his torso, though he righted himself quickly and set about returning her brazen greeting with equal fervour. That was, until someone cleared their throat and they both froze. Slowly, as though she were turning to meet her maker, Hermione stepped down from the safety of Viktor's lap… and faced their audience.

'Good morning Mr Krum, Sir.'

My two dogs made a cameo in this chapter (personality & breed wise at least)! I had to change one name as his namesakes belongs to this universe and I didn't think Viktor would own a dog called Severus… either way, I hope you enjoyed the more light-hearted aspects of this chapter. It was a lot of fun to return to the Krum family and develop some of their history, starting with the home in which Viktor grew up.

What did you think about their little late-night rendezvous then!?