A/N: For Dee! I hope I did the pairing justice, it was my first time writing it! Hope you enjoy!

WC: 1,260

~~ colour the eyes of the world ~~

When Hermione went to the Wizarding world for the first time, she was surprised to find that they also have soulmates. It made her think that maybe Muggles and wizards weren't that different, after all. But, unfortunately for her, a lot of them didn't see it.

She was surprised, yes, but also a little disappointed. It was sad, the fact that you could never see the colour of people's eyes, even your own. The authors of the books she'd read described eye colour as the most beautiful thing they'd ever seen. She was disappointed to find that even as a witch, the only colourful eyes she'd ever see was those of her soulmate, the day she met him.

What was even more disappointing, is that for some absurd reason, just like in the Muggle world, you could only meet your soulmate once you were sixteen. Before that, zilch, nada, nothing. Your soulmate could've been your childhood best friend, but if you didn't meet after that sweet sixteen, you would never know.

Honestly, Hermione hoped that magic would at least allow her to fin him before she'd seen sixteen winters, but of course it didn't happen that way.

Hermione turned sixteen in September of her fifth year, as planned, but there was no sudden revelation, no magically appearing eyes colours. She didn't let it worry her too much, though. Meeting your soulmate wasn't exactly rare—thank goodness—but it didn't happen immediately.

Sixth Year came and went, and all of her friends turned sixteen too. However, it seemed like they were blessed, as they found their soulmates astonishingly quickly. Ron and Lavender—which hurt a little, she had always harboured a small crush for him, but she had always expected it—Harry and Luna. Heck, even Neville knew his soulmate was Ginny before she even turned sixteen.

Hermione did her best not to stress about it. She tried to be rational. The odds of meeting at school weren't that high. Her life wasn't over yet, she still had 60 years to find him!

And yet, through that horrible Seventh Year, and into her Eighth Year, and then the first couple of years of her career, that time where all of her friends started to get married, wanted to start families, she still remained desperately soulmate-less.

It was now 2002. Hermione had been slowly but surely moving up the ladder at the Ministry—a place she'd once sworn she would never work with—and living her life alone. She wasn't exactly depressed or anything, but the monotony of her life made her long for something else, something a part of her knew was her soulmate. At least, she still had her friends.

Which was why when Ginny offered her an extra ticket to the Quidditch World Cup, she couldn't help but say yes, though with some complaint.

"Why are you asking me, Ginny? You know I hate Quidditch," Hermione exclaimed.

"Neville's going to be in South America," her friend told her.

"But surely Harry or Ron would enjoy going with you?" she tried desperately.

Ginny snorted. "I'm not inviting those two fanatics into the Journalist Stand. Who knows what could happen?"

Ginny was a Junior Sports Journalist for the Prophet, and was going to try her hand at writing an article for the final of the Cup. However, she only had one seat, and Hermione couldn't help but agree that inviting either of her best friends was more than likely to end in a disaster, given how much they loved the sport.

"Fine, but you owe me," Hermione grumbled.

Ginny simply laughed.

"Who's playing anyway?" she asked.

"Egypt, and Bulgaria."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Bulgaria?"

Ginny nodded. "Yes. Why? You know anyone on the team?" She paused. "Oh, you do!"

They were both talking about Viktor Krum. Though Hermione and him had remained friends, they'd grown apart, just sending a letter or two every now and then. She hadn't seen him since Fourth Year, and she hadn't even known he was back in England for the Cup.

The day of the match rolled round soon after, and Hermione made a bit of an effort to dress. It was unlikely she was actually going to see Viktor, and talk to him, but the thought pleased her. What if she did? It was always nice to meet up with old friends. Thinking of Viktor always made her remember the lovely evening of the Yule Ball when she had felt beautiful for the first time. Her memories of him were always fond.

Hermione and Ginny made their way into the Journalist Stand, which was small, and quite cramped, given the number of people that were stashed into it. It was, after all, the final. Ginny was positively eccstatic, and promptly forgot about Hermione, trying her best to squeeze herself up at the front.

Hermione sighed as she realised she'd been left alone. There were so many people she couldn't even find room to sit down. She was now regretting her decision to accompany Ginny. This wasn't much fun.

The game started and the crowd went up in a roar. Hermione had trouble seeing over the heads of the people in front of her, who were standing and shouting. If she stood on her tiptoes, she could see part of the pitch.

The teams were zooming around the pitch, their bright colours flashing in every direction. The Quaffle passed through hoops and hoops and hoops, each time punctuated with loud applause from the crowd. Hermione could only follow the game truly through the commentary from the stand next to them.

"And Viktor Krum has spotted the Snitch, it seems! He's zooming straight for it, ladies and gents. Heading straight after it! Watch him go!" the commentator yelled into his mic.

Hermione paused for a moment to remember Viktor. He had the darkest eyes, so dark she'd supposed they could only be black, or something like that. She couldn't even imagine any other colour for him.

"And the Egyptian Seeker is close on his tail! They're heading straight for the Journalists' Stand!" the commentator yelled. "Straight at them, straight into them? Are they going going to hit them?"

Hermione saw that, indeed, the two seekers were heading straight towards them, at full speed, and her heart caught in her chest. Was Viktor going to be okay? Were either of them going to hit the stall?

Vitktor was coming straight at them, his eyes focused on something that was going far too fast for any of them to see. The Journalists were all screaming, though not of fear: they were all over-excited. But just a couple of meters before them, the Egyptian Seeker suddenly pushed forward, and grabbed the Snitch right out of Viktor's outstretched hand.

The journalists all gasped.

Viktor paused for half-a-second, to comprehend what had just happened. And in that split second, his eyes left the pitch and stared straight ahead. Almost as if by magic, his gaze met Hermione's, who still had trouble seeing just over the heads of the crowd.

But it was enough.

Oh, was all Hermione could think and her mouth dropped open and the world stilled completely around her.

They weren't black at all, Viktor's eyes. They weren't simply the darkest, most beautiful blue she'd ever seen. And though he had lost, and the crowd, the commentator, the journalists were all screaming around them, and the Egyptian team were doing a victory lap around the court, he smiled at her.

She never wanted to let go of his gaze. Ever.