Wow… thirty-five chapters! Blows my mind sometimes that I've stuck with this story for so long, and I'm glad I have. Thank you for all the love and the patience — I feel very lucky that people are still reading, engaging and reviewing this labour of love.

For those who have checked my profile, you would've seen that I've been battling the virus. I'm on the mend, but as my family is in isolation I've been having to look after the little ones while recuperating as they're unable to go to nursery. Didn't leave much time for writing!

M: Explicit sexual content. Do skip if this isn't your cup of tea; it has no bearing on the plot.


Hermione's plan had been to direct Viktor up into the relative security of the mountains where she could deliver Dumbledore's message without fear of being discovered. However, four words sealed a very different course for her day.

'Come back with me.' Viktor said, his weary eyes pleading with her.

She realised then that her unexplained, urgent note had set him on edge. It should've been obvious to her. Inside her chest her heart clenched and she reached out for him. Her answer was the simplest decision she'd made that morning.

'Okay.'

A moment later, with his arms tightly secured around her waist, Viktor Disapparated. Hermione snuggled into the soft material of his jumper as the world around them was tugged to and fro, the feeling of being back within his arms — a familiar, safe place — distracting her from the discomfort of apparition.

Viktor didn't let her go immediately when their feet hit solid ground once more. Instead he held Hermione as though he was drawing strength from simply touching her. Around her she could hear the indistinguishable shouts of young men and the rhythmic sound of trainers hitting tarmac, followed by three sharp blasts of a whistle that rung shrilly in her ear. At length, Viktor brushed her shoulder and prized her gently off him, offering her his hand in place of his embrace; Hermione accepted it sheepishly, only momentarily embarrassed by her public display of how much she had missed him.

'Won't they see us?' She whispered to him as they crossed through the large steel gates that shielded the club from the outside world. Pulses of magic tickled the surface of her skin like a feather in what she now recognised as the recognition of wards.

Viktor shook his head. 'They will not see what they aren't expecting to see. I'm still in bed, or that's what they think. Insomnia isn't a friend of Quidditch players.'

'Insomnia?' A soft gasp slipped through Hermione's lips. 'Oh, Viktor. You should have said something.'

Viktor smiled fondly and gave her hand a squeeze. 'And worry you when you are dealing with the Toad?'

They shared a giggle at Umbridge's expense and fell back into a comfortable silence. The building into which Viktor led her was all on one level, and reminded her of the new-build University accommodation she'd seen in a BBC News report that summer. The walls had been painted luminous yellow to match the Wasps' colours and each door was spaced uniformly, hiding what Hermione concluded would be rooms identical to each other in shape and contents. Viktor's was at the very end of the corridor.

'After you.' Viktor said quietly as he unlocked the door with an infinitesimal flick of his wand. With her back against Viktor's firm chest, Hermione could sense his nervousness; his wariness of what she was about to tell him.

The room was just as she'd expected it to be. Clean, unusually tidy for a boy of his age, and sparsely decorated except for the photo of them at his mother's gala and a Bulgaria National Squad scarf pinned with a sticking charm to the wall. Viktor collapsed onto his bed and looked at her tentatively.

'It's about your Dad.' Hermione blurted out.

Darn. That hadn't been what she'd rehearsed in her head. On her journey through the tunnel underneath Hogsmeade she'd recited a speech that had a lot more empathy for the potential bombshell she was dropping on her boyfriend. All that had been forgotten the moment he set that vulnerable expression on her; it was so unlike him.

'My father —'

'Professor Dumbledore — Albus — asked me to pass on an urgent message.' Hermione cleared her throat and launched into the story of that night. As she spoke she paced the small space between Viktor's bed and his wardrobe, seemingly unaware of how his eyes were tracking her movements. In great detail she shared the mission the Headmaster had given her, sticking resolutely to his exact wording, just in case it meant something to Viktor. By the time she had finished, only some five minutes after her arrival, Viktor was on his feet again and he had joined her in pacing the room. His restlessness did nothing to quell an unsettling feeling that he'd been waiting for such a message to make its way to him.

'Do you know what it means, Viktor?' Hermione asked, her voice wobbling as she anticipated his answer. A crease in Viktor's brow suggested he had an inclination.

After a minute's silence Viktor strode to where his kitbag was tucked tidily against the side of his wardrobe and rummaged around inside it until, a moment later, he produced what looked like an empty school exercise book. As though on second thought, Viktor fished around and seized a scrap of parchment, which he handed to Hermione before perching on the end of his bed.

'Who knows that you are here?' He asked whilst retrieving two quills from his bedside table.

'Erm, Harry, Ron… Professor McGonagall, ish.'

'Ish?'

'She knows that today's the day I planned to fulfil an ask Professor Dumbledore had made of me… We agreed that she'd cover for me for a little while. I'm not the only one who's supposedly in bed.'

The left corner of Viktor's mouth twitched, and for the first time since she'd imparted Dumbledore's message, he smiled.

'Please write to Harry and tell him you are safe. That you arrived here as planned.'

Hermione scribbled out a short, coded message to her best friend, but was soon distracted by the sight of Viktor writing in the exercise book. Just as she remembered, he was slow and methodical as the quill glided over the parchment, leaving in its wake the precise handwriting she'd come to associate with feelings of warmth and security after a long day of classes. However, Hermione had only seconds to appreciate the unfamiliar sight of Viktor writing in his native tongue before the ink disappeared, land with it the evidence that anything had something critical had been communicated.

'Viktor…'

He pushed a curling lock of his fringe out of his face and glanced up at her, a wry smile now on his lips.

'My father has a book exactly like this. It is absorbing the message as we speak, and it will also vanish when he's read it.'

'That's…' Hermione began as she leant forward eagerly to examine the exercise book, which Viktor happily offered. Hermione handled it with great care and turned it over in her hands with care before tracing the lines where Viktor's message had previously been etched.

'Very clever, I know. Ana must have the credit, though, she used to invent things like this when we were small. It was part of a game, you must understand, so we could write messages to each other in the big house… she always was gifted with combining her magic and her imagination.' Hermione could see a twinkle of fondness in Viktor's dark eyes as he spoke about his sister and his childhood.

'And she created this for you and your father to speak to each other safely?' Hermione prompted.

Viktor nodded. 'If your Ministry knew…' His eyes crinkled again as he gave her the mischievous grin she adored.

'Yeah, a lot seems to be going on under the Ministry's nose at the moment.' Hermione said with a smile that matched his.

All of a sudden the relief was too much for her to contain. Hermione flopped down on the bed beside him and leant into Viktor's strong frame, tucking her head against his chest and allowing tears to flow freely. She'd done it. Against the seeming impossibility of it, she'd gotten Dumbledore's message to Illian without too great of a risk, and she'd done it right under the nose of Umbridge. Her usual pessimism was pushed aside in favour of simply enjoying being with him; later she would wonder why it had been almost too easy. For now, however, everything was well.

'Hey, hey,' Viktor soothed her gently, dropping the book onto his sheets and enveloping her with his long arms. 'You're okay. My father will be fine; this is what he does.'

'But doesn't it worry you that Professor Dumbledore is sending this message now?' Hermione managed to stutter through her tears. It was too late to worry about his damp jumper.

'No,' Viktor said matter-of-factly. 'No, for me it explains almost everything.'

Hermione pulled back and looked at him through wet lashes and watery eyes. Viktor was smiling at her, and he did look reassured… sort of.

'There is something… I should haff told you,' Viktor said sheepishly and reached out to place his large hand on her thigh. 'The day of the match against the Cannons someone left a little something for me in the changing rooms. Burned it into the wall with a nasty charm, according to Valentin; a warning that they knew about my family's history — not that it's a secret. I guessed they were trying to scare me, but for what reason I wasn't sure… it could be as simple as they don't like me playing for an English team. It wouldn't be the first time my teammates have disliked me. There's usually something: my age, my ancestry, my accent. My nationality would be a new one, but not unsurprising. Then I started to get notes under my door telling me they knew what my father was doing; what Albus had asked him to do. I think there is someone here that doesn't appreciate my father siding with Albus and going against our, hm, roots. The nightmares have been keeping me awake… and the rest of the time I haff been going out at night to try and catch them. So, sleep has been my enemy lately.'

Hermione remained silent long after he'd drifted off into quiet contemplation. What could she say to that? I'm sorry or I'm terrified for you just didn't cut the mustard. She both single-handedly wanted to catch whoever had dared do this to him and insist he returned to Bulgaria before it could get worse. No wonder he hadn't wanted to stick around and entertain his fans when someone had made a public statement of their hatred for him and his family.

A sudden and violent anger churned deep within her stomach.

'I know that look,' Viktor teased. 'Not now, moyata lyubov.'

'What does that mean?' Hermione blushed heavily, uncertain whether it had been caused by Viktor so easily reading her or the sound of his native tongue.

Viktor's cheeks flushed a light pink and he encouraged her back into his embrace. 'My love, or lover… but it doesn't sound right to me in English. There's a lot of things I want to say to you, Hermione, but I still don't know how to say them in your language.'

'That's okay,' Hermione said shyly, her fingertips brushing the hem of his jumper idly. 'English is my native language and I still don't know how to put a lot of what's going on in my head into words. You've got to do that and translate it, so you can be forgiven.' She attempted to tease, but it ended up sounding far too sincere.

Hermione's eyes closed as Viktor's lips made contact with hers. In a smooth, careful motion Viktor pulled her into his lap and settled his hands at the base of her spine, where his thumbs caressed her in ghosting motions through the fabric of her jumper. The kiss slowly became more urgent, and, reacting to the probing intrusion of his tongue, Hermione wound her fingers into his thick, black hair — grateful more than ever that he wasn't wearing his glamour.

There wasn't enough space between their bodies for Viktor to hide his noticeable reaction to their situation. An answering burst of arousal pooled between Hermione's legs and she felt herself start to tremble, adrenaline hot on the tails of her desire. It had been too long since they'd been able to go beyond stolen kisses, and as Viktor's slightly clammy hands ventured underneath her jumper and made contact with her bare flesh, she knew he was thinking along the same lines.

Viktor broke away to nuzzle her neck; his breath was hot on her skin as he kissed and sucked. He sought permission to go further with a light tug on the hem of her jumper, and she answered by raising her arms and allowing it to be removed. Viktor's lips slowly made their way down her sensitive collarbone and over the flushed skin of her chest, before latching onto her nipple through the sensible, white bralette she'd put on that morning and hadn't expected to see the light of day.

Hermione gasped unabashedly. Where once there had been a tentative fear in bearing herself like this to him, now there was only desire for more; for Viktor to get a move on and rid her of the barrier between her scorching skin and his velvet lips. As though sensing her impatience Viktor chuckled and the light vibration against her nipple only made her moan louder. She fumbled to get a grip on his cotton jumper and then, with unembarrassed urgency, yanked it over his head.

Hermione took a harsh breath, but not with pleasure this time. Viktor's chest — firmer and more defined though it was — was littered with fresh bruises of varying sizes; the largest resembled the imprint of a bludger.

'It's nothing to worry about,' Viktor said as he freed her breasts at least, a distraction technique if she'd ever seen one. 'My team play more aggressively. There haff been a few knocks in training and I just wasn't quick enough.'

She had a few choice words for whichever sorry excuse for a beater wasn't doing his job, Hermione thought frostily. That thought was swept from her mind by Viktor touching every inch of soft skin he could reach, and finally unbuttoning her jeans. Here he hesitated until Hermione urged him on, gracelessly shimmying out of the denim with no trace of her former shyness.

There was nothing about the escalating situation that scared her. They had been here before; back in Bulgaria they had navigated a number of hurdles, and had come very close to an act of intimacy from which there was no coming back. At the time everything had been too overwhelming. In the here and now, having not seen or touched Viktor in so long, she just wanted more. Hermione sighed in relief as Viktor's thumb dipped into her knickers and sought out the bundle of nerves she'd been expertly avoiding touching herself for months. It was instant pleasure. A single digit dragged down the length of her slit, dipping inside, and her hips jerked frantically. And, after so long without this contact, she was on edge in a matter of minutes. Viktor continued to stroke her with intense focus as she crested and her orgasm fluttered through her, filling her body with a sinful warmth that made her moan.

Holding onto the last delicious spasms of ecstasy, Hermione leant back and closed her eyes. She barely registered Viktor plumping his pillow for her, and then she heard him shuffling around her, followed by the sound of his trousers pooling at his ankles. Whilst she lacked entirely in experience, she had a sneaking suspicion not many teenagers were as patient and attentive as Viktor. That was him all over: methodical, intuitive, aware.

He eyelids blinked open and she met his heated gaze. Dark, smoky eyes bored into hers and his arousal was unmistakeable.

'Can you… pass me my wand, please?' She said, her voice surprisingly steady.

'Hm?' Confusion passed over his face momentarily.

'I need to cast a contraceptive charm,' Hermione had to wet her lips to force the words out. 'And I can't… I'm not that good at nonverbal casting yet.'

Hermione watched as the weight of what she was insinuating dawned on Viktor. His eyes widened and a scarlet flush spread over his muscular chest, hiding some of the starkness of his purple bruises.

'You want to…'

'I do. I really do.'

Since the time that she and Viktor had become intimate, and Hermione had contemplated what this event would be like for her, for them, she'd thought that she'd be terrified in the moment of reckoning. However, right now, with Viktor stood in nothing but his navy boxers, arousal jutting towards her, there was no fear. It felt right, and, what's more, she wanted it. She wanted to give this to Viktor. Mum had told her she'd know when the time was right… and the calm anticipation inside her told Hermione this was it.

'Let me.' Viktor said softly, bending to collect his wand from where it had clattered to the floor with his trousers. Kneeling either side of her thighs, Viktor pressed the tip to her belly button and muttered a brief incantation she recognised from the books she'd consumed voraciously in the library — that had been another life. Then, much to her surprise, he turned his wand on himself and repeated the process.

'Doubly safe.' He said with an impish grin.

Thank you, she intended to say, but a lump had formed in her throat. She didn't suppose many men of eighteen bothered to take a fair share of the responsibility.

Hermione was under no impression that things wouldn't be awkward now they'd crossed the final barrier, and as Viktor removed his boxers and she scooted out of her pants, it was just that. Their heads clashed as Viktor ducked to take her breast in his mouth and Hermione reached down to grip his arousal at the same time; they laughed nervously and found a position that allowed both. It was clumsy and unpracticed, but his every touch left a burning trail over her goose bumped skin.

'Ah,' Viktor groaned not long after. 'Maybe… you should stop. It might be over too fast if you touch me like that.'

'It wasn't good?' Hermione asked, her new-found confidence floundering.

'Too good.' Viktor winked and then he was levering himself over her, his palms resting either side of her head on the pillow. Tenderly he lowered his face to hers and took her bottom lip between his teeth. Hermione closed her eyes, though they flew open shortly after when she felt him pressing against her. One hand invited her thighs to fall open and make space for him to rest between them. Unaccustomed to be spread so, they protested and Viktor glided a hand down the sensitive curve of her knee, gently easing her open. His slim hips fit in the cradle of her thighs like a missing piece of a puzzle.

'You are still sure?' Viktor asked breathlessly. He didn't look as though he could stop, even if he wanted to.

Hermione nodded. She held her breath. Unsure whether she wanted to watch his face or where they would soon be joined, Hermione's eyes flickered between the two, settling eventually on the latter. His erection was searing as it inched slowly into her; the stretch to accommodate his considerable size brought with it a pinching pain that came to a crescendo when he filled her completely. It hurt — a lot. Blood welled on her bottom lip where she'd broken the skin, bearing down too hard on it as Viktor seated himself inside her.

Despite the clear effort it took him, Viktor remained still between her thighs and he kissed her, patiently and affectionately, apparently sensing the tension in her body. When the pain began to clear she registered a sensation of fullness. It was foreign, but equally there was a sense of completeness in having him nestled inside her, their pelvises flush against each other. The stinging eased as Viktor shifted, consciously or not, and was replaced with a tingling that promised a break in the pain.

'Do that… again.' She murmured and closed her hand instinctively around the nape of his neck.

Viktor started to rock into her in short, sharp movements; it was a comfort to Hermione that, whilst this wasn't his first time, Viktor appeared out of practice and was still finding his own comfortable rhythm. They'd work this out together. And they did — pleasure rippled inside her as Viktor's staccato hip thrusts became smooth strokes and he bent his head to press open-mouthed kisses between her breasts and on her flushed stomach. The mingled sound of her whimpers and Viktor's breathy grunts muffled the little voice in her mind that had attempted to maintain a running commentary throughout.

Lost to the sensations, Viktor pushed one of her legs up and tucked it over his shoulder. This opened up a new angle, and Hermione felt a burst of intense pleasure unlike anything she'd experienced before. He had brushed against something inside her, causing her hips to snap upwards and her insides to clench down on him.

Viktor emitted a loud hiss and he began to thrust with abandon, growing wilder and less precise in his actions. Although it made him stutter in his motions, unable to do both in sync, Viktor rubbed the swollen nub his pelvic bone had been nudging and brought her desperately to the edge with him. She knew the moment he orgasmed, for his face went taught, he pulsated within her and he let out a guttural groan that curled her toes — nevertheless, he persisted with fondling her until she joined him, crying out loudly as she did so.

There was no putting her finger on how long she floated. Blissed out, she thought wryly, I finally did it. A brief moment of resistance occurred when he attempted to pull out and she flinched; everything down there felt hypersensitive, and an unfamiliar soreness was beginning to blossom in her unused muscles.

Viktor stretched out languorously beside her and draped an arm behind Hermione's head.

'Thank you for trusting me.' Viktor said. His voice was hoarse.

Hermione blinked up at him and tears threatened once more. Why was she always so emotional when it came to him? The love she felt for him in that moment was almost too much.

'Thank you for waiting for me,' She said hesitantly. 'And for always being such a gentleman. It was… well, actually, that was pretty perfect.'

Viktor rolled over onto his side and gazed down at her; the mischievous, slightly smug smirk was back. The effect was belied somewhat by the beads of sweat on his hairline and the pink stains on his cheeks.

'Hopefully I will not have to wait long to try it again?' He asked nonchalantly, not missing a beat, and a picture of false innocence.

Hermione huffed and shoved him playfully. 'If I'd known that it felt like that then maybe I wouldn't have waited as long. If it's anyone's fault, I think it might be yours. You've been holding out on me!'

Viktor's smirk became indignant.

'Oh, I'll show you…'

Viktor's enthusiasm wasn't curbed by his fatigue, and soon Hermione's moans were echoing around his bedroom.

Some time later, Hermione stood at the window, observing the shapes of six players zipping through the air above the Wasps stadium. They held her attention only briefly; she was waiting for the seventh. Only moments ago Viktor had excused himself apologetically for a training session he wasn't permitted to miss. But not before stealing one last, lingering kiss. The last glimpse he'd gotten of her as he shut the door was her trying — and failing — to swallow the goofy grin that stretched from one ear to the other.

The desire to tumble in bed with him all day had crossed her mind, especially now she knew what the possibilities were and how much fun they could have. Nonetheless, she had reconciled with herself as to why he had to go as she watched him dressing in his seeker's robes. Up close he looked even more handsome to her in the black and yellow kit; to hell with what anyone else thought.

Life had to go on as normal for Viktor. He needed to act as though he were unaffected by the ordeal with Grindelwald's symbol. He needed to remain alert and aware of the actions of those around him; one of his teammates, or someone within the team's close circle, had meant to scare him away. When cradled against his naked chest he'd admitted that the team would commence their travel schedule soon, and she fretted that he would be more exposed and vulnerable on the road. That individual couldn't know just how much they'd bothered him.

Right now Hermione didn't want to dwell on those worries. This morning had made the fear and confusion of the last months near redundant, and replaced the bubble of anxiety inside her chest with a blissful feeling of love and completeness. Waiting for Viktor to emerge from behind the players' quarters any moment now, she reflected that it had been a long time since she'd him train or play in any sort of competitive fashion. His body, of which she was now very intimately acquainted, was testament to a thorough change in his training; would that reflect in his playing style? She couldn't quite imagine him being anything but the elegant, predatory sportsman she'd seen during the World Cup. During the mini-tournament that had been hosted at Hogwarts, and which on later reflection Hermione had considered a gratuitous effort from the Weasley Twins to size themselves up against a real pro, she'd recognised that Viktor had been holding back. She'd seen snatches of his play when he was being truly tested and it was a sight to behold.

At that moment a sound like a pistol firing tore Hermione from her indulgent reverie. After a fraction of a second she registered Viktor zooming through the air at breakneck speed, though the manner in which he lazily gripped the handle suggested he was as comfortable with the sudden acceleration as she was with her head in a book. The air displaced by his broom left a wispy trail that she eyed with admiration long after he'd disappeared.

So, that answered her question. Never had she seen him fly so aggressively; in passing Viktor had always made it clear that he prioritised skill over speed, and his every movement on a broom aimed to conserve energy. This new approach made his demolition of the Chudley Cannons' that much more believable.

Hermione remained at the window for a little while, watching Viktor and his team completing drills, before padding back to his bed and tucking herself under the covers. They smelt like him: clean with a hint of masculine spice. She smiled and pulled the duvet up to her chin.

When she was little, Hermione had been more interested in literature than she had been boys. The stories of Prince Charming her mother had told her at bedtime rooted themselves firmly in the land of fairytales for her and as she'd grown and approached puberty, fanciful thoughts of a future romance had been fleeting and oftentimes followed by a stern telling off from herself. Of course there had been the odd crush — Professor Lockhart for one, and an appreciation for those wizards who were easy on the eye; she was only human, after all. Once, in her third year, a sixth-year Ravenclaw had captured her interest when their studying hours in the library clashed, but that had ended in a harsh reminder of the realities of teenage boys. When plucking up the courage to stop by his desk, she'd stumbled upon him passing rude notes under the table to a strawberry-blonde Hufflepuff and her hopes had been dashed.

Romance had never been integral to her happiness. The two shared no correlation in her mind. Hermione had certainly never attached as much importance to it as the other girls in her year seemed to. A rewarding, challenging career was what she cared about… like Ana Krum. A strong, independent witch who was fast becoming a leader in her field: Hermione's role model and sister in all but blood. Never before had Hermione considered a man would be included in that equation, her life, which was perhaps why her mother's reaction to Viktor's sudden and unexpected arrival in Hermione's life was followed by such an uncharacteristic amount of delight.

On reflection, there had been occasions when she'd wondered whether there ever would be someone for her. Wandering past couples holding hands between classes, discovering — much to her mortification — students making out in the dark recesses of the library and overhearing older girls in the common room whispering about intimate acts; all had sparked momentary contemplation. One thing she'd reconciled was that any wizard worth her time would match her in mind above all else.

Viktor had blown all that out the window. Getting to know him over the course of her internship had made her evaluate herself in ways she'd never had to previously. It was undeniable that Viktor was sharp; his witty, dry jokes and perceptive remarks revealed glimpses into an intelligent mind that was often lost in translation. His brain, instead of lending itself to books and academic tests, favoured strategy and skill in more athletic pursuits. And yet… he kept her on her toes. His intellect in this domain checked her, and on more than one occasion had caught her off guard, made her reflect on her own judgements and logical conclusions. Now, she knew she couldn't have been with someone exactly like her, she thought ruefully. Hermione Granger was insufferable at times, hard to keep up with and an insatiable bookworm, driven by a desire for knowledge and answers. Viktor kept her anchored safely in the real world.

She loved him, and without her ever dreaming of it, he had landed in her life and complimented her in every which way.

Viktor soared above the stadium, his entire body feeling as though he'd just taken a healthy glug from a Draught of Peace. He wanted to laugh, to shout or cry out — maybe all three at the same time. A giddy happiness bubbled away inside him, along with occasional flickers of phantom pleasure in his sensitive nerve endings.

There had never been an expectation on Hermione for anything and it had knocked him for six when she'd offered herself willingly. Many times he'd chastised himself for putting her in situations in which she might feel pressured; he had to remind himself that he was two years older than her, and whilst Hermione was mature beyond her years, she still retained a lot of her innocence.

Growing up surrounded by older, more experienced wizards on his Quidditch teams and living and studying alongside immature teenage boys at school had left him with the understanding that sex wasn't always tied to love and emotion. It could also be a currency, used to control and relieve oneself from the hardships of real life. Valentin could be like that; he was a hopeless romantic at times, but Viktor had also witnessed him make his way through the local village girls as though undertaking an education. The best role models he had were his parents — everything they did, for each other and for Ana and him, was with love in mind. If he could even half match his father's dedication to his mother then he knew he'd be doing right by Hermione.

So, when Hermione had welcomed him in, a conflicting look of trepidation and anticipation on her flushed face, he'd known that what she was giving him was more than just an act of intimacy.

'Oi, Krum!' Chaser and team captain Michael Simpson was roaring at him over the wind. 'You in there mate?'

Shit. What was he supposed to be doing? His teammates were all watching him expectantly.

'Five mins for a breather?' Simpson waved the team over to him and they descended together, Viktor sensing more than one pair of eyes burning holes into his back as the ground rushed towards him.

The rest of the session passed without a further hitch. Eager to return to Hermione — what was she doing, he wondered, was she waiting in his bed? — Viktor skipped a shower and changed out of his gear faster than usual, not lingering to make polite conversation as he usually would.

'Got plans?' Ralph said conversationally as Viktor flung the last of his dirty gear into the team's wash basket. Although the beater didn't appear to have an ulterior motive, it still set Viktor on high alert.

A few ears had pricked up, and Viktor could see his distracted state had drawn an unusual level of attention. But was one of those curious faces hiding a more malicious interest? He could just… test the waters a bit, that couldn't do any real harm, could it?

'My father's in town,' He said casually. 'I am meeting with him before evening training.'

It was a lie, but they didn't know that. One thing was for certain — he wasn't about to tell them just who he was meeting. What had once been an attempt to keep Hermione's identity private out of courtesy was now a mission to prevent her from acquiring yet another unwarranted target on her back.

Ralph eyebrows flew up and he made a noise of intrigue. 'Cool, what for?'

'Um… work,' Viktor cringed at his own inability to lie. 'It's all confidential, you know how it is.' He affected a shrug and, out of the corner of his eye, swept the room for any one individual more interested in his revelation than the others.

Other than initial shock at Viktor offering personal information, no one looked that concerned by the news of the Krum family reunion.

'Ah, right. 'Av a good'un then.'

Viktor was preoccupied as he trudged back towards the players' quarters. What had he expected, he thought dully. That one of his teammates would gasp dramatically and accuse him of colluding with an enemy of the Ministry? He groused under his breath right up until he opened his door to find Hermione fast asleep underneath his duvet, her curls spread over his pillow like a halo. The exercise book he used to communicate with his father was discarded underneath the tangle of covers.

He ruminated that she'd probably been trying to work out the charm that had been put on it. That made him smile, and he lowered his sore body to the ground to kneel beside the bed.

'Hermione?' He murmured softly. 'Wake up, Miss Sleepyhead.'

Before long Hermione was blinking herself awake. The corner of her mouth was damp where she'd drooled a little, and she looked muddled from sleep. It was endearing in a way that made Viktor's chest constrict.

'Make some room for me.' Viktor teased and gave her a gentle shove; she conceded the space with an indignant snuffle and immediately moulded herself to his side.

'How long can you stay?' He asked when it was clear she was still too sleepy to steer the conversation. 'I was thinking… we've got the whole day, I am hoping, so we should be making the most of it. Maybe we could go into the village and I could show you around. The locals are really good at —'

'Pretending you don't exist?' Hermione smiled.

'Not quite,' Viktor grinned back. 'But I don't feel like an ogre or something when I am there.'

The sparkle in Hermione's gave way to a resigned look. 'We can't Viktor. I feel bad enough as it is that I'm here skiving off school when I should be in double Arithmancy right now. Not —' She added hastily. 'That I don't want to be here with you. I've been happier this morning than I have been in weeks, especially without the spectre of bloody Umbridge trying to catch us all out at every opportunity. It's nice to just be here, cuddling you and pretending just for one day that my life is normal.'

'I can understand that.' Viktor pressed his lips to the crown of Hermione's head and smiled when her riotous curls tickled his nose.

'What's more, if we get caught on camera — Merlin forbid — then I might as well not bother going back.'

Viktor laughed and scooted back on the bed so he could rest his head against the wall. It had been a spur of the moment ask; he'd already known there wasn't any way they could. It was too dangerous right now for her name to be associated with his — whether that be because of his tormentor, his father's mission or the risk waiting for Hermione back at Hogwarts. If Hermione's presence hadn't been so reassuring he might've felt suffocated.

'Tell me about the DA then.' Viktor stretched out his aching legs and slid a hand under the covers to seek out her thigh. It was scalding against his wind-chilled hands and Hermione yelped at the contact.

The next hour passed in a hazy muddle of soft kisses, wandering hands and frequently interrupted stories about Hermione's life at the castle without him. When he wasn't absently skimming his nails over her bare skin and relishing the feel of her trembling, Viktor listened keenly to her tales of misplaced hexes, protection spells and mystery rooms. He hummed his appreciation into her neck at hearing that she'd bested Ron in a duel and made encouraging noises when she expressed doubt over her own skill in defensive magic.

'And what about Harry and Ron?' He asked between laying kisses along her knuckles.

'Harry's one Defence class away from hexing the smarmy smile off Umbridge's face,' Hermione sighed. 'He's playing Slytherin tomorrow in the first match of the season, so that's keeping him going. Did I tell you that toad face disbanded all the clubs and forced them to reapply? Personally I think it was a punishment designed to get back at Harry for exploding in class and shouting the place down about You-Know-Who. She's made it her mission to discredit everything he says and I'm just counting down the days before he goes too far in her eyes.'

'And you think he will?'

'I know he will,' Hermione scoffed. 'Harry's… he's differently lately. He's so angry all the time. I thought maybe he was having nightmares about Cedric,' Viktor felt a pang of misery at the reminder of his most shameful memory. 'Ron says he's been crying out in his sleep, you see. Now I'm not so sure. Sometimes it's almost like it's not really him inside.'

'You are thinking there is magical intervention?' Viktor sat up straighter, frowning.

'No, no,' Hermione said quickly. 'I can't put my finger on it. I started looking in the library for the signs to look out for if someone is being possessed, but none of it added up. It's just Harry… but not.'

'Have you asked him about it?' Viktor asked and then chuckled when an expression of abject horror flickered over Hermione's face.

'And get my head bitten off? Absolutely not.'

'That doesn't help us then, because you should ask him if he feels an intruder in his mind. If someone is interfering with him then he will feel it inside.' Viktor pointed out.

'What, like using Legilimency?' Hermione gasped and scrambled to sit upright, fixing him with a stare that seemed to go right through him. 'How will he know what that feels like?'

A sudden thought came to Viktor. But, no… that was too invasive. Out of everyone he knew the value of privacy best. It was Hermione's right to keep some things to herself — he still had his secrets, after all.

'You did promise me you'd teach me a bit of Occlumency.' Hermione poked him in the stomach.

'It doesn't feel right,' He mumbled. 'Untrained you can't hide anything from me.'

'So? I have nothing to hide.'

After a little more protesting, Viktor conceded that, if he probed her mind, at least she could describe to Harry what warning signs to look out for. It needn't matter that Viktor suspected a threat to Harry would't come from within the walls of Hogwarts, unless Umbridge was to blame. His father had told him to warn Hermione about her, but her eyes were set on someone much more powerful and influential than Harry Potter — Albus.

Once Hermione was seated opposite him he produced his wand and pointed it experimentally at her; she didn't flinch.

'Empty your mind.'

'That's not possible —'

'Empty your mind.' Viktor repeated, adding an eye-roll for good measure.

A harumph was his indication that she was ready. Directing his wand between her wide, eager eyes Viktor whispered Legilimens! and found himself standing on a vast, watery plateau surrounded by memories coming in and out of focus. Mrs Petrović had taught him to recognise a mind without protection; the owner's thoughts simply flashed past without rhyme or reason, and Viktor had found it nauseating at first.

Nothing surprising presented itself in Hermione's mind. Conversations with Harry, Ron and Ginny bounced into his vision, as well as glimpses of the duel in question. And then…

'Focus on that memory!' He roared, startling them both. The pictures, like a film feel, sharpened and he strained to get a better look at the man who had flittered inside a nearby shop on the day they'd met in Hogsmeade for their birthday-slash-anniversary date.

Viktor forced himself out of her mind so sharply it was as though it had been her who had ejected him. He sat in stunned silence until he felt Hermione cupping his chin, her face the picture of concern.

'What's wrong Viktor? What did you see?' She said urgently.

'That man… I know him.'

'The wizard in the street? Why does that sound like a bad thing?'

'Because that disguise is my father's.'


And there we are! An enormous moment in their relationship. I hope it lived up to expectations for those who were eagerly anticipating it! I wanted a brief respite from the anxiety of OotP plot, so this chapter gave Hermione and Viktor just that.