Gringotts looked the same as it always did, the marbled lobby bustling with patrons and goblins alike. Viktor slipped through the high ceilinged lobby and approached the second desk to the left, where Snagrock waited for him with an unpleasant sneer on his face as always.
"Master Snagrock." Viktor placed a fist over his heart. "May your enemies be crushed and your horde prosperous."
"Young Krum." Snagrock looked down his nose at Viktor from his chair. "What business brings you here today?"
"I'd like to access the auxiliary family vaults."
"The storage vault?" Snagrock tapped a long-nailed finger against the desk. "Very well. Do you have the knife?"
Viktor nodded. "I do."
"Then follow me."
The goblin descended from the high desk and walked toward a room set off of the main lobby, where a multitude of large squares of softly glowing marble were partitioned with low wooden walls. Snagrock took him to one in the far back that wasn't in use, walking to the middle of the square, and barely waited for Viktor to join him before intoning, "Vault 318."
The unfamiliar dry heat of goblin magic surrounded Viktor in a harsh, abrasive whirlwind, and he closed his eyes against it. Moments later it abated, and he was greeted by the familiar sight of the family's crest emblazoned on a huge slab of rock.
"Knife, please." Snagrock held out his hand, and Viktor obediently handed over a small, ornately carved dagger before turning his palm over.
Dispassionately, Snagrock made a clean incision across the skin of the palm of Viktor's hand, and he watched as blood welled up from it before spreading across his entire hand until the entirety of it was coated.
Inhaling deeply, he stepped up to the crest and placed his hand over it. The carved lines glowed first indigo and then a deep crimson as it pulled blood from Viktor, the sensation deeply unpleasant. Just when Viktor thought he couldn't handle any more, the magic released him and the crest disappeared in a flash of light, a small opening cracking open from ceiling to floor in the rock.
"I'll try to be as quick as I can," Viktor told Snagrock, who narrowed his eyes at him but didn't say anything in return.
The auxiliary vault, or storage vault as Snagrock had called it, wasn't a vault that Viktor had frequented in the past. He'd only been once or twice before, and always with someone else, like Maika or Kosta, and even once Svetlana, but this time he was alone.
It felt right, he thought, that he should be picking out something as important as an initiating courting gift on his own. It was personal, intimate. Something that he and Hermione would be wearing, perhaps forever, that symbolized their connection but that also proved useful.
Luckily, the vault was well-organised and had been systemically indexed, so finding that perfect gift hopefully wouldn't be as time consuming as he anticipated it being. Viktor was grateful to whatever ancestor had conceived of the idea to write the inventory of the vault down, along with a short description, in the tome that lay atop the pedestal stationed in the middle of the room.
Cracking it open, Viktor scanned its contents, flipping through its yellowed pages. He'd thought initially some kind of necklace might suit her but realised about halfway through the summer that she was wearing a thin chain with some kind of charm at the bottom that she never took off. He'd never seen her wear hair combs or earrings, but he had seen her with the translation charm on her left wrist and figured that once the summer was over she might could wear something similar.
But the composition wasn't the only thing that Viktor thought was important. No, it was what the gift could do that he was most interested in, if he were being honest. All the things that Hermione had been through this summer made him impossibly wary of letting her return to Britain without some way of knowing she was healthy and fine. More than that, though, he wanted to know that if she found herself in mortal danger once more—a thought that chilled him to the bone—that she would be able to escape and go somewhere safe, away from harm.
That was what he kept in mind as he scanned the index, at last alighting on a row that stated Betrothal Cuffs - Melia and Danail, 1643. As he read the entry and its description, he tapped the tome in satisfaction. It was precisely what he needed. Moments later, he had the pouch securely in his grasp. After an initial inspection and a small, insignificant tweak, he was satisfied and on his way out.
As he emerged from the vault, he heard the sound of booted feet crunching on the dirt pathway and squinted into the dimly lit cavern, trying not to let his face drop into a scowl as he realised who it was.
"Viktor?" Girgor Krum came into sight, his mouth turned down. "What are you doing here?"
The pouch burned a hole in the pocket of his thin summer robes. "I came to get something for Maika."
It was almost shocking how easily the lie slipped off his tongue, but he wasn't going to spoil his chances for a future with Hermione by telling his father at an inopportune time. Just as he had discussed with Kosta, he wanted to wait until he had accomplished something that would make Grigor pleased and satisfied with him.
It was unfortunate how rarely that occurred.
Grigor's lip curled. "You're wasting your time doing things like this when you could be spending it doing other things?" Scoffing, he said, "I somehow find myself continually amazed by how little you seem to care for doing anything even remotely useful."
Viktor ground his teeth together. "I do many useful things, Father."
"And I've yet to hear or see any of them. Why is that?"
"I've cultivated many new contacts during the Quidditch Cup," Viktor pointed out, his temper starting to get riled. "I've met people from all over the world who would now be willing to entertain a letter from me or from the family who wouldn't have been willing to do so before."
"All doubtlessly interested in Quidditch," Grigor dismissed out of hand.
"I highly doubt that," Viktor retorted through gritted teeth, "given that I spent a lot of time at Meet and Greet events that extremely well-connected individuals chose to attend, not to mention the players themselves, who sometimes come from affluent families. And if that isn't sufficient to meet your impossible standards, I spent some time talking with Minister Oblansk himself. He seemed rather impressed with me and even offered to help me get a position in the Ministry if I wanted."
"As if a second son would go into something as menial as a desk job." Grigor crossed his arms. "A Ministry position is far beneath you as a son of the House of Krum."
"Nothing I say or do will ever please you, will it?" Bitterly, he snapped, "I don't even know why I bother. Snagrock, let's return to the surface."
"I'm not finished talking to you, boy." Grigor shifted, his eyes narrowed.
Viktor turned to face him. "That's unfortunate, because I am finished talking with you."
Nodding at Snagrock, he watched with grim satisfaction as his father's face grew infuriated just before they returned to the surface.
After leaving the bank, Viktor was left irritated with nowhere to channel it. He didn't want to go to Krasmira's house to see Hermione one last time—the most important time, in fact—feeling like this, so he elected to burn off some steam at home, first doing some flying practice before segueing into some stavework. The Selection of Staves would be happening within the first few weeks of school, after all, and if he was able to get a stave, he'd have to prove his ability to wield it before the entire school.
Even as he ran through a few patterns with a light wooden staff, his attention remained divided, his eyes straying to the pouch that contained the cuff as well as a thin notebook Maika had given him. The notebook was one of a pair that allowed two way communication, and he anticipated using the golden-orange one quite a bit while he and Hermione remained separated. Maika had apologised for not being able to provide a set of two way communication mirrors on such short notice like the rest of the family used, but Viktor had been grateful for some method of communication at all. Even the notebooks were damned hard to come by.
By the time he had cleaned up and put his gifts in the pockets of his nice robes ("Why is Master Viktor wearing casual robes? Missy Mia deserves nice robes!" Mippy glared as she chastised him.), the sun was high in the sky and Viktor was more nervous than he'd ever been. He only had one shot at this, after all. If he lost the Cup, they'd be able to fight for it again in four years, but with Hermione, he only had this once.
Setting his shoulders, he blew out a breath. "Right. Let's go."
And with a crack!, he found himself outside of Lazarov Cottage, a nice, two storey house made of light coloured stone with trim, navy blue accents. Gathering himself once more, he rapped smartly on the door, which swung open to reveal Krasmira, clad in casual day robes, trousers, and cream, high-collared silk shirt.
"Ah." She looked him up and down once, a smirk curling her lips. "Finally come to see Mia, have you?"
A flush crawled its way up his neck and onto his ears. "I, er, yes. Is she here?"
Krasmira arched a brow. "Where else would she be?" When he floundered about for an answer, stuttering, she took pity on him. "Yes, she's in the living room with Harry."
As she opened the door wider and he passed her on his way in, she said, "Viktor?"
"Yes?"
Dark green eyes met his. "Let me just remind you that I know how to heal a lot of injuries."
"I...know that?"
Her smile turned downright menacing. "Then you must also know that in order to heal such injuries, I also know many, many ways in which they occur." She tapped him lightly on the chest. "It would be a shame if you were to hurt our poor Mia. You might find yourself in need of my treatment, which can be...painful."
He swallowed.
"But that's no matter," she said lightly, as if she hadn't just threatened to both injure him grievously and then heal him in as painful a manner as she could manage. "I'm sure you'll treat her with the utmost respect. Right?"
"Of course I will," he responded immediately as they moved into the house proper. "I would do that regardless of any posturing or threatening from anyone."
When he entered the living room, Hermione and Harry were talking quietly, Hermione perched on the edge of the loveseat she was sitting on as Harry sat cross-legged on the sofa adjacent. They both looked up as he and Krasmira came in, Hermione's face lighting up as Harry smiled and gave a half wave.
"Viktor's come calling," Krasmira announced significantly and rather unnecessarily. As Harry glanced at her, she gave the boy a knowing look. Harry's eyes widened as he looked between his best friend and Viktor, and a moment later he broke into a spontaneous, wide grin.
"Good to see you, mate. Ah, Madam Lazarov, I have a question about, er, uh, Healing that I was hoping you might help me with."
Zhiva protect him. Harry's attempts at helping were atrocious. That was one of the flimsiest lies he'd ever heard. And it would make Hermione—
"Harry," Hermione exclaimed, appearing rather injured, "I would have hoped that you'd ask me any questions you had. I've offered, you know."
He sighed. There she went.
"Why ask the apprentice when the Mistress is present?" Krasmira smoothly stepped in. "I'd be happy to answer any questions you have, but first, Harry, I wanted to ask you—when's the last time you had a physical?"
Viktor smirked as the other boy paled dramatically. "It's been...awhile." The way he said awhile intimated it had been much longer than that.
"No time like the present, is there?" the Healer asked archly, gesturing for Harry to come with her. "I won't make it hurt...much."
"She's lying," Viktor told Harry seriously. "It hurts much worse than you'd think.".
Hermione put her hands on her hips and glared first at Viktor and then at Krasmira, who appeared totally unrepentant. "Oh stop it, the both of you. Harry, it doesn't hurt at all! It's just a physical."
"Yes, yes," Krasmira said impatiently. "It doesn't hurt a bit. It's just painful because it takes forever, which often translates to both Harry and I being completely engrossed for exactly one hour, no more, no less." She looked pointedly at Viktor as she pronounced the last, and he gave the barest inclination of a nod.
"Should I help you?" Hermione asked. "I might be able to—"
"No!" The denial came from three separate voices, and Hermione looked a bit perplexed at everyone's vehement disapproval of her suggestion.
A bit sheepishly, Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "No offense, 'Mione, but I'd rather you not see it all. You, er...well...no, thanks."
Hermione appeared blankly uncomprehending for a moment before she abruptly flushed. "I, ah, right," she stammered, completely flustered.
"We could always go outside," Viktor suggested, seeking to regain control of the situation. "It's a lovely day. Besides, I wanted to ask you something. Several somethings, in fact."
"Oh, really?" Hermione looked at him with wide eyes as he guided her out of the house and to the back porch, which overlooked a small but well tended garden that grew not only flowers but a multitude of herbs that Viktor figured were medicinal in nature. "Is everything okay?"
He hoped it would be. "I wanted to know if you'd let me take you flying," he asked in lieu of replying. "It's something I've wanted to do for a long time. I know that you don't like it—that you had a bad time of it, but I want to show you a meadow that I think you'd really like."
Her hand flew up to grip her necklace, her mouth turning down as she stared at him. "I...Viktor...I really, really hate flying."
"Do you trust me?"
She looked at him incredulously even as he held his breath, his heart hammering as he waited for her answer. "Do I trust you?" she repeated. "Viktor, there's almost nobody else I trust more than you. Of course I trust you."
He took out his broom, enlarged it, and let it hover next to them. "Then will you fly with me, please? I swear I would never let anything happen to you."
Her eyes darted to the broom and then back to him. She sighed. "I walked right into that one, didn't I?"
"Please," he said as persuasively as he knew how. "We'll go slow. Very slow. The meadow is beautiful. You'll love it."
"Viktor," she whispered. "I really don't think I can. I really can't. I'm terrified of flying. Terrified."
He reached out and grasped her hands, stroking her knuckles until her hands unclenched from their impossibly tight fists. "You won't be flying on your own—I'll be with you the entire time. And at the risk of sounding too self-important, I am one of the best Quidditch players in the world. I think it's safe to say that I won't let you fall." He tilted his head to the side and coaxed, "Please, for me?"
She looked at the broom again and swallowed. "If we go really slow." At his earsplitting grin, she warned, "I mean, we better be going slower than a toddler's training broom."
"I promise," he replied fervently, omitting the fact that said brooms still went fairly fast. "Anything you want, so long as you get on that broom with me."
"Anything I want?" She asked, a little sass in her voice, even as her cheeks pinked. "That's a rather broad promise to make, Viktor."
Sliding his hands to her wrists, he drew her closer. As he stared into her eyes, he repeated, "Anything you want."
Her breath caught in her throat, and she swallowed again. A bit shakily, she said, "Well, um, I'll think about it. But…" Her eyes dropped for a moment, then inched back up to meet his. "Promise to hold me really tightly so I won't plummet to my death?"
He exploded into laughter. "You won't be doing any plummeting, mila," he replied, the moment broken as he chuckled. "Not on my watch. But I'll hold you as tight as you ask."
As he mounted the broom, he let go of one of her hands so he could hold onto the handle. "Here." He patted the space right in front of him. "One leg over the broom, just like you saw me do, and face away from me."
Her lips were bloodless as she complied. When the broom shifted under her weight, she scrambled back off gracelessly. "No, no, no." She shook her head vehemently. "I can't. I can't do this."
"Hey, hey. It's okay. It's alright," he soothed her. "It's okay. Let's try it another way. Get on and face me. You can hug me the entire time and even hide your face so you can't see. Would that help?"
She bit her lip, her entire being screaming her anxiety. "Do I have to?" she asked plaintively.
"Of course not," he replied immediately. "There's no have to or must happening here. I just wanted to take you flying so I could share one of the things I love the most with you. But if you don't want to, we won't. I don't want to force you to do something you don't want to."
Clearly torn between bravery and an old, ingrained fear, she met his eyes. "I don't have to watch?"
He shook his head. "Not at all." Tapping the side of his neck where it joined his shoulder, he said, "You can bury your head right here. Or even in my chest. Whatever you want."
Her blush returned as she examined him, and he waited with bated breath. "Okay." She nodded to herself. "Okay. I'll try again. But Viktor, I just want you to know. I wouldn't do this for anyone else. Not even Harry, who I love like a brother."
She clambered back on gracelessly, and he adjusted her legs so they hung over his. "Wrap your arms around me tightly," he instructed.
A bare instant later, her arms banded around him in a vise and he caught a few stray strands of hair in his mouth as she buried her face underneath his chin, the skin of her face hot against his throat.
"I don't see the point of me flying," she said, muffled, "considering I can't see a thing."
Viktor, who suddenly had a lapful of warm, trusting Hermione, could see many merits to the entire exercise, but he wasn't about to say that out loud. Besides, he really did want to take her to the meadow he so loved. Having her so close was just a bonus.
"That's quite alright," he soothed. "You won't even notice we're flying." As he let them float higher until they were above the trees, he ducked his head down to murmur into her ears, "I won't let you fall."
She trembled against him but still managed, "I know you won't. I just don't trust the broom. At home, these are used to clean floors, not to fly on."
"Tell me about your home," he murmured, setting the broom to skimming forward at a sedate pace. "What's it like? You hardly speak of your family, yet you know so much of mine."
"There's not much to speak of," she replied quietly. "I live at a manor called Bainbridge. It's not huge by castle standards, I suppose, given that it's a manor house rather than an actual castle, but it has extensive grounds that it's famous for. My mother likes to redo the gardens fairly periodically when she's home."
"They're not home often?"
She shook her head. "They're usually travelling or attending business. Daddy has a lot of business in France—his company is headquartered there."
"But he lives in England?"
"Yes, because Mother is the Duchess. Daddy moved to Britain for her, but she often travels with him."
"And they come home for when you are home, of course."
A puff of warm air hit his throat as she huffed. "Not necessarily. I'm often…left behind a lot. Well. That's not quite fair to them, I suppose, given that I'm gone most of the time." Whether she knew it or not, her words had taken on a distant, melancholy tone. "They do invite me to go with them sometimes. Rarely. I think…"
"You think what?" He pressed her closer to him when she didn't go on.
"I think they're embarrassed by me a lot of the time." She said it so quietly that the wind would have stolen her words away if he hadn't been listening so intently. "I'm not good at things they want me to be good at. I'm terrible at talking to people, I'm not very pretty, and I'm not like them."
If he ever met the Grangers, Viktor wasn't sure what he'd do, he thought murderously. It likely wouldn't be anything good, but they didn't particularly deserve his politeness if they made Hermione feel that way about herself.
Fiercely, he replied, "If that's how they make you feel, then perhaps it's best that you're not around them too often. It's good that we're almost to the meadow because I want to tell you to your face that I disagree with every last thing you said, except for the last. So what if you're not like them? They don't sound particularly pleasant."
"We're almost there?" She stiffened in surprise for a moment before relaxing into his hold once more. "I hadn't realised we had made such good time."
"It wasn't too bad, hm?"
Laughter threaded her voice. "I wouldn't go so far as to say it was good, but it certainly wasn't bad."
Moments later, they gently touched down, and Viktor stroked his hand across her back. "We're here, mila. You can look up."
Hesitantly, Hermione pulled away and looked out, her face lighting up as she took in the sight of a wide, grassy meadow dotted with flowers and dabbled with sunlight. "Viktor, it's beautiful!"
"It's one of my favourite places," he admitted. "I found it one day quite by accident when I was flying and a storm hit. I had to put down because the winds were so strong that I couldn't fly."
"Well, I'm glad that you found it. It's wonderful."
She dismounted readily, her face turning up to face the sun, and Viktor thought he had never seen her look more beautiful than she did now.
Suddenly, she turned to him. "I'm going to miss Bulgaria terribly. Is it bad that I wish I could stay here forever?" She darted a quick look up at him. "I wish the summer would never end. I've learned so much, met so many wonderful people, made so many wonderful friends…sometimes it seems like a dream."
"I can understand that. Everything that's happened the last year has sometimes defied my own belief. But at least we have the tournament coming up," he said as he took a step closer to her, staring down into her melting hazel eyes. It means I'll be able to see you again for a year."
Hermione brightened. "I know. Isn't it wonderful?"
"I'll get to see Hogwarts and meet all your friends, now. Actually, hopefully you'll get to meet my school friends, too," he added thoughtfully. "You can show me all of your favourite places while I keep watch over you."
She frowned. "What do you mean by watch over me? I can take care of myself just fine."
Incredulity running through him, he replied, "Hermione, in the time since I've known you, you've been neglected by your guardian, subjected to the Cruciatus, and chased through the fairgrounds of the Quidditch World Cup by terrorists!"
"And I got myself out of all those situations just fine, Viktor. What are you implying? That I need some kind of keeper? Because if so, I disagree. Strongly." Her voice was hard.
"Not a keeper," Viktor growled, running a hand over his face. "That came out wrong. But someone to help you if you need it. There were so many times this summer that I worried about you. So many times I thought my heart had stopped when I found out what you'd been through. I couldn't bear it if something happened to you. I couldn't, because I—"
When he stopped mid-sentence, Hermione regarded him carefully. "Because you what, Viktor?"
"Because I care for you," he said quietly, the words heavy with feeling. "I care about you more than anyone else I've ever known. I like you—no, I adore you. I think about you all the time. I wonder what you'd think of something or how you'd feel about another, and I wonder what you're doing and if you're happy, but above all else I want to be by you as much as I can for as long as I can."
He closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath. When he opened them, he met those soft hazel eyes of hers, a feeling of relief washing over him. Whatever happened now, at least he'd said it. "So you see," he said a bit helplessly, "that is why I wish you were protected and why I wish to be with you to watch over you. Because you are my most precious thing."
"Viktor…" Hermione appeared at a loss for words, though her eyes shone. "I…"
"I understand, of course, if you don't return my feelings," he tacked on quickly. "I understand completely. But I just—I couldn't stay quiet any longer, especially now that we're about to go our separate ways for a few months. If you don't, I promise I will be the best friend you have ever—"
"Viktor, stop." Hermione touched his arm, rendering him mute. "Please, let me speak." When it became clear that he wasn't going to utter a single word, she reached up and touched his cheek, the pads of her fingers impossibly soft against his skin. "I like you, too."
"You...do?" he asked, uncomprehending.
"Yes, I do. I like you, Viktor. Very much." She flushed at the words but met his eyes nonetheless. "I realised it when we were at Aigos Minos."
Dismayed, he asked, "That long ago? I had discovered my feelings for you long before that. All this time we could have been together—I could have been touching you, showering you with gifts, taking you on dates, properly courting you as I have wanted so desperately to—really, Mia, all this time?"
Hermione's smile lit up her entire face. "Yes," she said softly. "This entire time."
He couldn't believe it. "Am I dreaming? Really, Hermione. I had hoped for so long that now it's happening I can't be sure."
She laughed. "I feel the same way. For so long I had thought there was no way that someone like you would want someone like me." She gestured at herself disparagingly. "You're amazing, Viktor. Anyone would be lucky to have you. You deserve the best witch in the world."
"You are the best witch." His reply was immediate, and he cupped her cheek in a hand, barely able to understand that he could do that now. "You're the only witch I've ever wanted, Hermione." He took a step closer. "Mila. My dear. My witch."
Just as he bent down and her eyelids fluttered closed, a streak of silvery blue light flew between them, causing them to jump apart. It coalesced before them into a mammoth, person-sized crow that opened its beak and said in Krasmira's voice, "Viktor, when I said you had an hour, I didn't give you permission to kidnap my charge. Return at once." It clicked its beak irritably before vanishing.
A bit sheepishly, he looked at Hermione. "It seems we've been summoned. But, well, before we go," he fumbled in his pocket, "I wanted to give you a few things. Gifts."
"Gifts?" She blushed ever harder, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Viktor, you didn't have to do that."
"I wanted to show you how much I appreciate you," he said insistently. "Please, let me show you in my way how much I...how much I treasure you. This cuff is a courting gift that my family has used over the centuries. Traditionally the males have presented it to the witches who have accepted their offer of courtship. My many times great grandmother was the last to wear this, but I thought it would fit you."
Carefully, she picked it up, examining it and curiously turning it every which way. "This is beautiful, Viktor."
He brightened. "You think so?"
She nodded, and started putting it on her wrist. Gently, he brushed her hand aside and took the delicate piece of jewelry from her. "I chose a cuff rather than a traditional bracelet with a charm because I knew you would be writing and reading so much," he explained. "I thought the charm would get in your way. However, you'll see the family crest engraved on the oval between the two platinum bands, although I charmed it further so you can set it to show only a sun if you'd like."
"I understand the crest, but the sun?" She looked at him quizzically.
Simply, he replied, "You are the brightest thing in my life."
She bit her lip and looked away, clearly touched by his statement. "If you were a book," she declared, voice low as she clearly fought embarrassment, "you would be Hogwarts: A History."
Coming from her, that was as good a declaration of love, and a moment later she was wrapped up in his arms, her head nestled underneath his chin as he breathed in her scent, a mix of lavender, parchment, and some kind of mint. "I can't believe it," he whispered into her hair, closing his eyes.
"What?" she whispered back.
"I can't believe you feel the same. So long...I've wanted this for so long. It's hard to believe you're within my grasp."
Her lips slightly parted in surprise. "Really?"
He tilted his head down to catch her eyes as he nodded, and he watched in satisfaction as pink dawned across her cheekbones once more. As her arms stole around his waist, her grip almost timid, she avoided his gaze and confessed, "Me too, Viktor. I...I didn't even dare to hope. But now you're mine, too."
She paused even as her grip tightened, and he hid his smile in her hair as he heard the gears of her mind turning. "Viktor, I want to show you the depth of my affection as well. Am I expected to get you a bracelet in return? I want to do this right."
"There's actually a mate to the one you're wearing." At her expression of surprise, he explained, "They have special qualities, you see. I can tell if you're in danger or upset based on the cuff you're wearing, and you can do so with mine. One of the reasons I chose that cuff over some others I liked was because of the charms imbued with it. I worry about you, what with the summer you've had, and now with that wretched business at the Cup a few days ago. It seems to me, mila, that you encounter danger of the worst kind wherever you go. With this, at least, I can know that you're safe."
"I don't know how I feel about that." She poked at the cuff suspiciously. "Can it see anything else? I don't want this to be like a mood detection charm. To me, that would feel like a violation. My feelings are my own, and I'd like to keep it that way."
Vehemently, he shook his head. "No. It's not like that at all. Only danger. I wouldn't ever dare try to track something as personal as your feelings. I agree that those are yours to share as you wish. And sartse moe," he hastened to reassure her, "my cuff does the same."
She perked up. "It does?"
"Yes."
"Well." She put a hand on her hip. "I suppose that's fine, then. Where is it? I want to put it on you right now. Heaven knows the next time you'll do something idiot like try and nosedive towards the ground at mind-numbing speed and not pull up."
"Are you disparaging my ability to do the Wronskei Feint?"
"No, I'm just saying that it's foolhardy and dangerous, and that it's famous for the latter. Remember Aidan Lynch?" She asked pointedly. "The Irish seeker that you played against a couple days ago that ploughed into the ground not once but twice trying to pull it off?"
"Tch. He approached all wrong. Now, me? I have a much better understanding of it."
"Regardless. The cuff, Viktor?" She held out her hand expectantly, and he handed her the pouch. As she upended it, he reveled in the sight of her so close to him, his cuff around her wrist. She was his to care for now, just as he was hers.
"It's really just a band of platinum." Humming thoughtfully, she turned over the much thicker beaten metal in her hand, stopping to trace the family crest engraved on the flat, wide part that would sit on top of his wrist. "Honestly, I think it suits you well."
Once the band was snugly fit around his wrist, he took out his wand, invoking a spell in a low voice as he waved it over their wrists. The cuffs shrank to fit snugly around their wrists, gleaming a soft indigo for a moment as the magic took.
"I was just activating the charms," he explained as Hermione watched it happen. "Now the cuff shouldn't get damaged or fall off for any reason whatsoever. The only way you can take it off is if you remove it or I do."
She stared at it for a long moment, lightly tracing the sun embossed on it. "The sun, hm?"
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "My sun."
"Viktor, I swear on Zhiva's strength herself, if you don't come back right now, I will hunt you down myself!"
They drew apart again at the sound of Krasmira's strident voice coming from a new and second Patronus, both of them laughing a little. Something new and a bit daring passed through Hermione's eyes as she stared up into his smiling face and she stood on her tiptoes, brushing his cheek with her lips.
"In case she murders us both," she said a bit shyly.
Viktor, whose brain had ceased working the instant her lips brushed his skin, made an inarticulate sound as she looked up at him impishly.
I'm going to marry this girl.
The thought floated across his mind and he grabbed onto it with both hands. I'm going to marry this girl, he thought again as joy incandescently fizzed through his veins, no matter what it takes. With her at his side, the future felt limitless.
Together, they were invincible.
Me: Phew, so that's finally done after 176K. What. A. Relief.
Viktor: This is not the time to rest! *pulls out list* I have sixteen dates to plan and four gifts to procure before Mia leaves in a few days. Timing will be tight but I think I can get at least one more gift in. *squints* maybe two.
Me: Viktor, have you considered taking it sl—
Viktor: Hiring sky writers to proclaim my love? *makes a note* Excellent idea.
There is an epilogue. Look out for it late this week or early next week.