For all that Viktor was facing the biggest game of his life the next day, he felt strangely calm and settled, almost eerily so. He woke up and ate the enormous breakfast Mippy and Bippy placed in front of him before apparating to the stadium a bit earlier than usual, feeling rested and prepared.

Everyone else was already there as well, a strange, tense hush in the air as they hovered above the pitch and talked quietly amongst themselves. Islov, it appeared, had not yet shown himself, presumably tucked away in his office poring over the playbook.

"Is this really happening? Did we make it to the finals?" Vasily asked. "I can't believe it. Someone pinch me."

Dutifully, Alexei reached over and did the job. Vasily yelped and swatted his hand aside, glaring at the Chaser. "I wasn't serious."

Alexei shrugged, smirking. "You asked."

"You're all a bunch of children," Clara declared loftily, one leg swinging idly as she lazily hooked her other foot around one of the broom's stirrups.

Vasily laughed. "As if you and Pyotr are any better."

"We are, in fact, better." Pyotr flew over and parked his broom so close to Clara's that their thighs touched. Tugging on her plait, he slung an arm around her shoulders. "We only have mature, adult exchanges."

"Oh yeah?" Vasily challenged. "Pray tell, maestro, what kind of 'mature, adult exchanges' do you speak of? I think we need an example."

"Of course you do. You'd have no idea how to do anything if you weren't copying me." Pyotr sniffed haughtily. "Watch and learn."

Disentangling himself from Clara, he executed a neat one-eighty so that he faced the Chaser directly. His mouth set in a determined line before he straightened up and took her hands in his, his normally light-hearted expression growing serious.

Next to Viktor, Zograf's eyebrows rose in disbelief. "Is this...Is he really—"

Suddenly, Ivan knocked his broom into Zograf's, who glared at the other wizard as the move jostled him. With a false smile and a clearly scheming expression, Ivan backed off a bit and gave Zograf some space. "My bad. It was a mistake."

"Clara," Pyotr was saying intently as he ignored the byplay between the other players, his focus exclusively on the witch before him, "I know that I've asked you this before, and I know that you've said no because you didn't think I was serious. But this is me being serious for once in my life, so I hope you'll listen."

Wide-eyed and slightly pink, Clara glanced down at their intertwined hands and back up as Pyotr went on, "I've admired you for ages. You're beautiful and smart and amazing, but more than that, you're my best friend. There's nobody I want to spend time with more than you. You challenge me. You make me want to be better." His smile was small but notable for its softness. "I want to spend all my time with you, on the pitch and off of it. Take a chance on me, slŭnchitse. You won't regret it. Let's go to Le Maison de Italienne in France, like you've always wanted, and have dinner together. I know we'll be good together—just give me the opportunity to show you how we could be, and I think you'll see it too."

Clara looked around at all of them, seeming to realise that Pyotr had essentially prostrated himself in front of the entire team. Frowning, she sighed. "You make it hard, Pyotr. So hard. I've seen you woo women before, and you always say things like this."

"It's different," he protested, running a hand down her arm before taking up her hand again. "Surely, you must know that. It's been you, Clara. It's always been you."

Her brows furrowed as her eyes searched his. "Are you serious? Like, really, truly serious? This isn't just some...overblown prank?"

"No." He swallowed. "No prank. I assure you, I wouldn't be doing this if it was just a joke." Huffing, he said, "There are a lot more ways I could get a laugh out of everyone than doing this."

Everyone collectively held their breath as she thought, and thought, and thought some more, clearly conflicted. Finally, her expression eased and she breathed out, "Okay. Okay, yeah. Let's go to France."

The entire team exploded at that, everyone making various expressions of dismay except for Ivan, who was whooping and hollering as he did a quick vertical loop with his broom. "Everyone pay up! I had today on the calendar."

"Wait, wait. Pay up?" Perplexed, Pyotr looked around at everyone.

"Yeah, tupak." Alexei smirked. "You think we weren't betting on this the entire time? You are both idiots if you think we didn't see the writing on the wall. You've been pathetic and obvious since we were in the qualifiers—it was just Clara we weren't sure about. But Zograf heard her tell something to Kras months ago that made us think you had a fighting chance, so the pool was born."

"If you had just been two days later," Viktor groused, though he was smiling, "I would've won. Two days, Pyotr. Couldn't you have just waited?"

"Why are you all sitting here like gossiping fishwives?" Islov questioned with his trademark scowl, having finally emerged from his office and flown over from the other side of the pitch.

"Sometimes there are more important things than Quidditch," Ivan declared grandly, his victory clearly having gone straight to his head. "Pyotr finally asked Clara out and she said yes."

Islov's scowl deepened, and he growled, "I was two weeks too early. Who won?"

"You too?" Clara gasped, scandalized, as Ivan smugly replied, "I did."

Islov glowered at Ivan, who winced as he realised that gloating may not have been his best idea, before turning to Clara. "I'm not blind, Ivanova. I have eyes. Although," here he glared at Pyotr, "I would have expected more class from you, boy. Asking her on the Quidditch pitch? Tch."

"Hey!" Pyotr protested, looking vaguely offended. "I took the opportunity when it came."

A thought occurred to Viktor, and he smirked. "Has anyone told Krasmira?"

Silence reigned as the team collectively took in the fact someone would have to tell the witch she had lost the pot. "You do it." Zograf turned to Viktor. "You're the one who brought it up."

"What," Viktor taunted, outright grinning at the Keeper, "afraid of the dragon?"

Zograf sniffed and ran a hand over his shorn head. "I'm not stupid. She'll hiss and snap and snarl because she didn't win the pot. I don't want to have her berate me during my evaluation. You know how unpleasant she can make it."

He winced at the thought. "Good point. I don't particularly want to go tell her."

Alexei clapped him on the back and cheerfully proclaimed, "Too late now, my friend! You've volunteered. Might as well go now."

"You can also get cleared to play before we start for the day." Islov glanced up at the sky and then back at them. "Why are you all here so early, anyways?"

"Because we're excited, Coach," Clara replied easily. "Rumour has it that we have a big match tomorrow?"

"Don't get sassy with me, little girl," Islov warned, though for once he sounded good-natured. "If there's one thing you should've learned…"

Viktor lost the rest of his response to the wind as he made his way to the Healing Halls, energy surging through him at the thought of seeing Hermione. She'd been thrilled about the news.

But even though he was glad for Pyotr and Clara, the smallest bit of jealousy niggled in his mind. He didn't want to just relay the happy news. No, he wanted his own moment with Hermione, just like the other two had had. All he had done was think and think and think about it, considering the pros and cons of doing it before the Cup and fretting about what might come of a confession.

Maybe the time for thinking was over, he thought, his grip tightening on his broom. Maybe it was time for action. Yes, action sounded good. Doing sounded good. He could just march in there and ask for a moment, pull her aside, and hand over his heart, though, really, she'd had it for a long time already. But this way, at least he'd be put out of his misery.

While he didn't have the gifts that he had so carefully picked out for her with him, she didn't seem like the kind of witch to place material worth over sincere sentiment. And true, all his concerns about her reaction and about Islov and such were still valid, but...dammit. If Pyotr could do it, then so could he! He wouldn't pussyfoot around it any longer.

Perhaps if he asked for a moment alone before the exam? No, no, after the exam. Because if she turned him down, then at least they wouldn't have to endure the painful awkwardness that was sure to ensure. At least he knew what he was going to say: Zhiva knew he had turned the phrases over enough in his head.

His stride slowed as he approached the entrance, his eyes narrowing. The entrance was still closed off, which was quite uncharacteristic given that they were supposed to begin their wellness checks so they could be cleared to play. Viktor frowned, placing his hand against the opaque window. When nothing happened, he knocked, knowing they could see him on the other side.

A long moment later, the window vanished, and he was greeted by the strange sight of Krasmira kneeling by Hermione, who was sitting on the side of the bed.

"—just a little bit under the weather," his brown-haired witch was telling her Mistress. "I'm really okay, I promise."

"Hermione," the Healer replied with uncharacteristic gentleness, even as she looked at the vitals charm hovering next to her, "this is not a simple illness." And then without so much as a glance in his direction, she directed, "Viktor, please tell the team that our evaluations will have to take place in the afternoon."

Hermione stirred at that, her head slowly turning to face him. Alarm spiralled through him at the sight of her face, which was pale and haggard. Her eyes, which normally gleamed so brightly, were dull and hazy. "Viktor? What are you doing here?"

"Mia?" he asked in alarm. "Mia, what happened?"

Krasmira raised a hand, stopping him in his tracks. "Viktor, this is a medical issue. Please respect her privacy and do as I asked."

"No, it's okay," Hermione told her Mistress, even as she slightly listed to the side. "Viktor can stay." Her voice was small. "I...I want him to stay."

The very sight of her weakness made his heart stutter. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

Hurrying forward, he took her hand and clasped it gently, trying to warm up her cold and clammy skin. "Mia, what happened?" He asked again as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Won't you tell me what's wrong?"

Almost as if she were in a dream, Hermione replied slowly, "I…I'm not sure. I...must have fallen asleep last night, and this morning I woke up and felt awful. I checked, though," she suddenly hastened to reassure Krasmira, her voice clear, "that I didn't have a fever or anything. I wouldn't ever put the team at risk."

Krasmira briefly rested a gentle hand on Hermione's arm. "I wouldn't dare think otherwise. You're a wonderful apprentice. Now, can you recite your symptoms for me?"

It took a few seconds before she nodded, and a few more after that before she began. "Tremors, sustained and intermittent. Headache." She paused, and Krasmira nodded encouragingly as she slowly waved her wand over Hermione's figure, frowning deeper and deeper at the readings she was generating. "Fuzziness. Sometimes pain, throughout my body. Fatigue."

Convulsively, his hand tightened around Hermione's. He had heard about these symptoms before, when he was in class at Durmstrang. It was...it sounded like…

"Krasmira," he said, pleased when his voice didn't shake, "I think I should step outside and make a floo call."

"I was just about to do so myself." Krasmira's words were clipped, her emotions clearly roiling just below the surface as she tried to keep a calm head around Hermione. "It's imperative that we do."

Normally, Hermione would have asked questions, like who they were calling, what for, and why. Instead, she simply sat there listlessly, her face flat. It was only when he tried to disentangle his hand from Hermione's that she stirred, clutching at him in a vice grip. "Viktor, I don't want you to leave." She looked up at him, her brown eyes wide and glassy. "I don't—won't you please stay—please—"

Immediately, he came closer, sitting on the bed and wrapping an arm around her. At his touch, she shivered convulsively and flinched away before shrinking into his side. It almost broke his heart.

"I'm not going anywhere, mila," he promised, voice rough. "I'll be right here."

In the end, it was Krasmira who stepped out and summoned the aurors while Viktor stayed with her, his head resting against the top of hers. Feelings and confessions be damned, he'd do whatever she needed. She appeared to need and want him and his touch, so give it he would.

Tenderly, he asked, "How are you feeling, lyubim?"

She sighed. "I'm so tired, Viktor. I'm just so tired." She shook again, her body trembling. "I don't understand what all the fuss is about," she murmured. "It's nothing serious. It's likely just a small cold or something like it."

He straightened up and peered into her eyes. She was completely in earnest. "Mia, it's not that at all. There's evidence that you've been Crucioed."

"Crucioed? By who?" Blankly, she looked at him. "That's impossible. Wouldn't I remember that?"

"I've found evidence that your memory has been tampered with." Krasmira had returned just in time to hear Hermione's question. "It's absolutely despicable. Hermione, dear, what do you remember of last night? Anything at all?"

At once, Hermione nodded. "Of course." She trembled again, the motion ripping through her convulsively. "I came home from work, and I began packing to go home since the summer is over. I...I read a letter that I received from Professor McGonagall." She gave a shadow of a smile. "I think that a lot of things will be different for me at Hogwarts next year, based off her letter."

"As they should be," Krasmira replied firmly. "Keep going. You got the letter, and then what happened?"

"Well, I…I…I suppose I went to sleep? I must have seen Magellan at some point, I'm sure. We tend to pass each other in the evenings, if we see each other at all."

Magellan. Just the mention of his name made Viktor's rage rise up, strong and fast. He had to be involved somehow. He was sure of it, especially with the argument the two of them had had a few days ago.

"Mister Quickfoot has been acting suspiciously all summer," he told her. "Mia's told me about it. He's vanished multiple times during the summer and had suspicious wizards visit her, and once, he even kicked her out of their house...I wouldn't be surprised if he was somehow involved."

Kramsira looked horrified. "He kicked you out?"

"It was only one night. Viktor let me stay over and sleep in a spare room. And just because he hasn't been the most present doesn't mean he hasn't been good other times," she defended her guardian. "It's complicated, but really, I don't think he's capable of something like this."

She leaned more heavily against him, her support of Magellan sapping what energy she had. Cuddling her small form closer against him, he tucked her head underneath his chin. "Shh. Quiet, now. We can figure out the whys and whos later. Just rest now, Mia. Lay your head against me and close your eyes. I'm right here. You're safe. I'll keep watch over you."

"Vitya," she breathed, and his heart leapt at the nickname as she used it for the first time, "is it okay if I rest for just for a minute? It won't be long, I promise." Her eyes slipped shut. "Just a minute…"

He stroked her hair and felt her breathing even out. When he was sure she was asleep, he looked up at Krasmira with murder in his eyes. "Whoever has done this, I will make sure they pay if it is the last thing I do."

Krasmira nodded grimly in agreement, her features twisted into a seething mass of rage and self-recrimination. "We both will. But Viktor...I should have known. Why did she tell you but not me? She is a child, and as her Mistress, she is mine to protect." She exhaled. "If I had known that something was amiss...if I had just asked better questions—no, if I had asked any questions about her life at home—but I didn't. I was too focussed on the academics and practical aspects. I wish I'd done differently. I should have done differently."

"Don't blame yourself." He pitched his voice to a low murmur so as not to wake the precious girl sleeping against him. "She is completely self-reliant to the point of self-sabotage. I don't know much about her life back in Britain, which I will certainly remedy, but...her parents—she mentioned they're muggles—appear to frequently ignore her and are often displeased with her. It could be that she expects this kind of behaviour from the adults in her life."

"And that is completely unacceptable," the Healer hissed.

"I'm not saying it is," he hastened to reassure her. He stopped short when Hermione stirred, nosing her face further into the hollow of his throat. The warm exhalations of her breath against his skin calmed him, and she went boneless against him as he slowly, slowly, stroked a hand up and down her back. She was so very fragile, he thought, just skin and bones and pure, lovely light.

When he was certain she was settled again, he went on, "She didn't tell me anything, at least not at first. The only reason I knew Quickfoot had kicked her out was because I was here practicing late that evening when she came back to the Healing Halls to sleep. Like I said a minute ago, I think she's so determined to do everything on her own because she's really only had herself to rely on."

Krasmira regarded her apprentice, her expression conflicted. "Doesn't she realise how many people would help her if she but asked? When I reached out to the professors at Hogwarts about her schedule, they fairly fell over themselves to help her, and here the entire team is eating out of the palm of her hand."

He shook his head, mouth tight. "She doesn't see it."

Krasmira's jaw worked as she clasped her hands in front of her in an iron grip. "That will most certainly change, especially after this, even if I have to ram it through her surprisingly thick skull."

The floo connected to the Healing Hall chimed and then glowed moments before two aurors stepped through, their sage green uniforms crisp and their wands loosely held in their hands.

"Madam Lazarov," the older one said, stepping forward and giving a neat bow. "We received a report of something that needed our attention?"

"Konstantin," Krasmira asked in surprise. "They sent the head auror?"

The wizard shrugged and pushed a hand through mussed hair. "You called from the Stadium. If you think they wouldn't send the best, especially with the match coming up tomorrow, you are much mistaken. Now, tell me what has happened." He pulled a notebook out and set it in the air, a quill hovering over it to take notes.

Krasmira began outlining her knowledge and observations of her apprentice's symptoms as Konstantin stepped forward towards Hermione, and Viktor hunched over her protectively.

Konstantin arched a brow at the move. "Boy," he told him wryly, "I am not going to hurt her. I'm here to help her." Behind him, his partner stirred as he took in the scene, his dark brown eyes sweeping the room.

Viktor clenched his jaw and closed his eyes for a brief moment before opening them and meeting the auror's gaze. "I know. I know, I just...she is precious to me. One of the most precious things, in fact. If I even think you're considering something…" he exhaled sharply. "I can't be held accountable for my actions."

After considering him for a long moment, Konstantin shrugged. "Any interest in joining the Aurors?" he asked idly. At Viktor's incredulous look, he lifted a shoulder. "I just had to ask. No need to get shirty about it. Now, please, if you will, Mr Krum, lay her flat. We'll need to run some spellwork of our own."

Reluctantly, Viktor did as instructed, arranging her as carefully and gently as he could on the bed. As Konstantin raised his wand and let it hover over her head, Viktor sat on the edge of the bed, his hand resting on her arm. Almost to himself, he murmured, "I should have been there to protect her."

"Could you have known it was going to happen?" Konstantin inquired mildly, looking at the readings coming from his wand.

"I…" he paused. "I don't think so, but I've known there was something wrong with her home life."

Konstantin transferred the entirety of his attention to him. "Care to explain?"

Succinctly, he sketched out what he knew of her circumstances, and Konstantin frowned. "While that does seem neglectful, I wouldn't say that it is a prelude to something as utterly depraved as the Cruciatus and an Obliviation." He shook his head. "The former is, of course, a Class One Unforgivable, but unsanctioned Obliviations, especially on young minds, are just as heinous, if you ask me."

Turning to his partner, he ordered him to go to Hermione's house to retrieve Quickfoot after getting the address from Krasmira. "While Quickfoot's actions don't cast him in a good light, it doesn't automatically make him guilty. The truth will out, eventually. We'll see what happens shortly, Mr Krum."

He went over to Krasmira and began a low voiced conference with her. Moments later, Krasmira was showing him the results from Hermione's vitals spell, and the auror was scowling as his quill raced across the paper.

"Her body clearly displays the classic hallmarks of the Cruciatus, and there's clear evidence of memory tampering as well like you said," he murmured, tapping the paper thoughtfully. "It doesn't make much sense as to why she would be targeted, though. Does she have any enemies in Britain that would want to harm her?"

Both he and Krasmira glanced at each other as they tried to recall if she had mentioned anyone. "Not that I can think of," Krasmira finally said. "She hasn't offered very much about her life back there, either. For an adolescent girl, she's surprisingly tight-lipped."

"She hasn't mentioned anything to me in terms of enemies either," Viktor added. "We're...we're fairly close—No, extremely close. I would hope by now she would have mentioned something to me if there was something."

He wasn't so sure she would, though. Sometimes there was a fey look in her eyes that she got when she thought nobody was looking, a strange, fleeting expression that he couldn't yet decipher. His Hermione had secrets, yet, secrets that he was determined she would reveal to him in time.

The floo flared again and Konstantin's partner announced his return before stepping through, Quickfoot on his heels. Beelining for Hermione, he raked his gaze over her still form before looking up at Krasmira.

"How is she?" he asked. "I could tell that she was under the weather last night, but...I didn't expect this. I could never have—I could hardly believe—" He broke off. "The Cruciatus? Are you certain?"

"Of course I'm certain," Krasmira snapped. "And Hermione is as well as someone who has had an Unforgivable used against them could be, which is not well at all. Her body is in a state of shock, and her nerve damage is moderate. She'll suffer the effects of this for weeks, though her exposure wasn't long enough to cause lasting damage. Given adequate treatment, care, and rest, she should make a full recovery."

"I'll take extremely good care of her," Quickfoot promised fervently, smoothing a hand over her forehead. "She's very dear to me."

The sight of Quickfoot putting his hands on her made Viktor grind his teeth. He didn't so much as deserve to be near Hermione, let alone touching her.

Konstantin shifted, drawing attention to him. "While your concern for your ward is admirable, Mr Quickfoot, I must insist on asking you a few questions. Where were you last night?"

"I was with Radomir Kostadin," he said promptly. A moment later, he frowned. "Why, am I a suspect?"

"It's simply procedure, Mr Quickfoot." Konstantin's quill paused for a moment. "And Mr Kostadin can verify this?"

Viktor's brows raised as Quickfoot failed to immediately respond in the affirmative, his jaw working as he looked down at the floor. Just as the silence had grown long enough to be of note, he sighed and met Konstantin's eyes. "I wasn't with Kostadin," he admitted, the words clearly painful to admit. "I was with Svetlana."

"Svetlana?" Konstantin probed.

Studiously avoiding looking even so much in the direction of Viktor, the wizard muttered, "Svetlana Krum."

If Hermione hadn't told Viktor about this already, chances were that Viktor would have drawn his wand on him. As it was, Konstantin's partner made a move towards him as he fought to keep from lunging forward and instead took several deep breaths. This wasn't about Kosta and Svetlana. This was about Hermione.

"Steady now," the auror murmured to him. Viktor glared at the wizard in response, but the auror was unphased, merely staring back at him with a steady gaze.

"So you were with Svetlana last night, and not Radomir as you previously said?" Konstantin pressed.

"Correct."

"All night?"

"Until this morning."

"And she'll verify your whereabouts?"

Quickfoot nodded. "She will, if pressed. We've been...well, we've been trying to keep it quiet so that word didn't get back to her husband. I suppose that's no longer an issue, now."

His eyes narrow, Viktor fairly spat, "We already knew about it."

"You did?" Quickfoot appeared vaguely surprised.

"Yes. I told him a few days ago."

As Quickfoot seemed poised to continue this line of inquiry, Konstantin raised a hand to interrupt the conversation. "As interesting as this matter might be, I would like to get back to the more immediate issue at hand. Mr Quickfoot, if you'd be so kind as to hand over your wand?"

"My wand?" he repeated. "What for?"

"To check it," Konstantin said, visibly trying to keep his patience.

Viktor watched as Quickfoot weighed his options. At last, cooperation won out, and the wizard pulled a sleeve of his robes up and pointedly pulled his wand, a pale ash, out of its holster before handing it over.

The auror checked it over using some kind of runic incantation he etched in the air. "Clear," the head auror announced tonelessly before handing it back.

The English wizard looked triumphant, and Viktor bit back a snarl as the blonde loftily declared, "This was really quite unnecessary. Hermione is very near and dear to my heart. I care for her greatly and the last thing I would ever want would be for her to land in some kind of danger."

"Is that so?" Viktor snapped, unable to control himself as disappointment and fury warred in him. "Do you care for her greatly enough that you would leave her home alone for long stretches of time? Greatly enough that you would kick her out of her own home at the drop of a hat and that you would entertain wizards that made her uncomfortable? Greatly enough that she has trouble trusting you? Is that how greatly you care for her? If so, your version of 'greatly' and mine differ quite widely, Mr Quickfoot."

"Now see here, Krum—" Quickfoot started toward him with a dark expression, only to be held back by Konstantin's hand.

At the sound of his raised voice, Hermione shifted, the first move she'd made since Viktor had laid her flat. To a person, they all froze in place, a tableau of angry wizards stopped for want of keeping the witch asleep. Exhaling, she burrowed further into her pillow, slipping deeper into sleep. All the wizards relaxed, although Krasmira kept a watchful eye on her.

"You have no place making accusations like that," Quickfoot continued in a low hiss, his eyes snapping with temper. "She and I have a complicated relationship. It's not as bad as all that."

Viktor merely folded his arms. "Isn't it?"

"So you do admit to doing the things that Mr Krum has accused you of?" Konstantin interjected. His notebook flipped to a new page and the quill started writing furiously.

Caught out, Quickfoot winced. "Yes, well—I—not precisely—"

"A simple yes or no will suffice."

"Yes. Yes, I did those things, but Hermione and I have talked it out and I've sworn not to do them again. They were mistakes, I'll admit it, but I've turned over a new leaf!" There was something almost desperate in his tone, something haggard and frayed.

"Good intentions or not, Mr Quickfoot," Konstantin said sternly, "Hermione is an underaged witch. I'm not certain about the laws in England, but in Bulgaria the activities that you just admitted to count as child negligence. That," he said significantly, "is all in addition to the fact that she was subjected to an Unforgivable while in your care. I cannot in good conscience leave her in your care for the remainder of your time here, and I will also be notifying the proper authorities in England."

Triumph swept through Viktor. Hermione would go somewhere safer now, somewhere where someone cared for her well-being far more than Magellan Quickfoot ever had.

"You can't do that!" Quickfoot protested, leaning forward aggressively. "She's mine! I have to protect her from all shadows and darkness the world has to hold."

"And a good job of that you've done," Viktor muttered loud enough for them all to hear.

"As noble as those intentions are, Mr Quickfoot," Konstantin said firmly, "you've been unable to do so thus far." At that, Quickfoot looked as though he had been punched in the gut, his expression haunted. "Hermione will have to be placed somewhere else for the remainder of her time here."

"She can stay with me," Viktor immediately offered. "Or my mother. She would love to house Mia. If neither of us are suitable, I'm fairly certain Clara would take her."

For the first time since the entire event transpired, Krasmira stirred, striding forward from her position by Hermione's side to join the group. "Hermione Granger is my apprentice, and she will be staying with nobody else but me. We were formally bound together at the recent conference in Italy on 21 July. I can procure a copy of the agreement if you like."

The black-haired auror nodded. "I would appreciate that."

Carelessly, Krasmira held out her hand in the direction of her office. A moment later a scroll floated out and placed itself in her hand. Another moment later and the scroll had duplicated itself, whereupon she handed it to Konstantin.

Looking it over, he announced at last, "Everything seems in order. I release her into your care."

"It's a shame that you treated someone you claim you care for so dearly as you have," Viktor couldn't resist telling Quickfoot. "If you had simply done your duty, you may have been able to keep custody of Hermione."

Quickfoot pressed his lips together, his eyes dark and pained. "You don't know anything, Viktor. You don't know anything at all."

"I think I know enough," he replied swiftly. "Enough to know that you're a wizard that doesn't know to treasure what he has. You're both negligent and unreliable. If I have my way, Mia will stay far away from you from now on. Here, and in Britain."

The older wizard scoffed. "As if you have any say in that."

Viktor smirked. "You might be surprised."

Krasmira stepped forward, her spine straight. "And even if he does not," she interjected, "I do. And you have no right to be around my apprentice."

Sirius's eyes darkened. "Just because she's your apprentice doesn't mean—"

"Actually," Konstantin interrupted, "she does under the Magus Memorium of 1322." He locked eyes with Quickfoot, his stance reminiscent of a panther coiled to strike. "If you want to dishonor and attempt to disrupt one of the most sacrosanct bonds in all of wizarding history, be my guest. I won't say what will happen to you. As it stands, Krasmira Lazarov is one of the most renowned Healers in the world. I would tread carefully, here, if I were you."

"Give it up, Quickfoot." Viktor crossed his arms. "She's only here a week more, and then her guardianship will revert to her muggle parents and to whomever he magical guardian is in Britain. You don't have any power to keep her any longer."

"Actually," Krasmira interjected, "Hermione's magical guardianship will remain with me, as I am her Mistress. She's my ward, now, and will be until she is a Healer in her own right or reaches her majority, whichever comes first. Truthfully, she was effectively my ward from the time we signed the papers onwards, but I thought not to make too much of a fuss about it since it all seemed to be going well."

Her eyes darkened. "I should have asked her more questions. It is a mistake I will not make again, I assure you."

It was the first time that Viktor had ever seen Quickfoot look less than composed. Running a hand over his hair, he stared at Hermione with his mouth pressed in a thin line. "I don't understand how it's come to this," he murmured, his words clearly meant for himself. "I just don't understand." Turning his gaze to Krasmira, he asked, "Could I see her when I wished?"

Krasmira deliberated for a long, tense minute. At last, she replied, "If Hermione wishes it."

Quickfoot swallowed. "That's all I ask."

As he passed Viktor on his way out, Viktor caught his arm. Lowly, he murmured, "It's true that you may care for her, but I know—I know that you were involved in some way. I don't have any proof, but trust me, as soon as I find some, I will do truly unspeakable things to you. And even without that," he promised, "I am going to ruin you."

To his surprise, Quickfoot smiled at that. "I would have liked you in another lifetime, you know. Really, I would have. You remind me of someone I used to know, who did everything he could to protect those he loved." There was something broken in his eyes. "Yes, I would have liked you very well. But in this life...Viktor, you'd do your very best to stay away from things you don't understand. It's for your own good."

"And you Quickfoot," he replied with an air of finality, "had best not underestimate me."

Boring but important life announcements

Hello. I am sorry for being late. I'm having some really serious medical issues that have caused me to take a leave of absence from work, and it is also affecting my writing. Luckily, I am able to keep writing. Hooray for all of us! Also luckily, the rough draft of the rest of the chapters for this fic is already done, and most of my time is spent editing and rewriting things as I decide I dislike it (most typical) or discover it doesn't quite fit characterizations or the larger plot (also typical).

That being said, it might take longer for me to update this than the usual week - possibly 10 days to two weeks, and I will not be as present replying to your reviews. I am very grateful for them and I really treasure them all, but I might not have the energy to reply. Just know I read them all, as they make my day.

Since FF doesn't allow me to give you a chapter count, here it is: this is chapter 34 out of 38 + an epilogue. The sequel is a monster. I am intimidated already, and I'm only 40K in. More to love, I suppose!