It had been a long few days for Lee. He'd had an exclusive with a hot new band, but had needed to portkey to India in order to interview them. Two days later was a World Cup match in Egypt, and Lee dutifully portkeyed over, getting a scoop with their Seeker Rawya Zaghloul. She was a charming witch, and rising star people were starting to pay attention to. If that had been it, Lee could have enjoyed a nice rest and had a moment to breath. Instead, he had to take several portkeys over to America to watch the Canada vs Bulgaria game and interview people. The last leg of the journey he felt sluggish. The night before the game he'd been unable to sleep after being in so many timezones.
He practically crawled to the game and hoped it'd be a short one. Fate gave Lee a giant middle finger. The Quidditch match had lasted fifteen hours in the rain, and by the end of it Lee was fairly certain he was going to lose his voice. He somehow kept it through interview after interview, a smile on his face the whole time. He'd begun to cough by the time he reached his final interview, and felt dread weigh deep in his gut. Krum.
How could he have forgotten? It was a testament to how ill he felt and how portkey-lagged he was that he'd forgotten. He'd literally just seen Krum flying and winning the game for his team again, how could he have forgotten a bloody interview with the man.
He came in to find Krum alone, hair wet and a towel around his neck as he slumped in his chair. He perked up when he noticed Lee in the doorway, and almost seemed to smile. So unused to seeing a remotely pleasant expression on Krum's face, Lee found himself staring.
"Ah! Lee Jordan! It is good to be seeing you," Krum said, standing up from his chair. In his haste to rise the small chair knocked back to the ground, and he had to stoop to right the thing again.
"Nice to see you, Krum," Lee said, voice hoarse and croaky.
"It is Viktor," Krum corrected. "And are you unwell?"
"'M fine," Lee said, going to set up his equipment. He leaned over and blearily blinked at the little nobs on his device. Damn he was tired. What was usually a route task felt like trying to thread a needle with a piece of limp spaghetti.
"Here, let me pour you tea," Krum offered, going to a small bar area and shooting his wand around. "Yes, tea for your throat."
"I don't need tea, I just need to get this done," Lee rasped, a smile on his face.
"You don't have to pretend with me, it is fine," Krum said, ignoring Lee to get a pot of tea. Lee's smile vanished and his mouth grew tight. So Krum was still on that whole 'you pretend' thing. What he really meant was that Lee was a fake, a suggestion that pissed him off to no end.
"Sit sit. You truly are not looking well!"
"I'm fi—" his words were cut off by a disgustingly phlegmy cough that left him looking for a waste bin to spit in.
"Sit down now." Though it was undoubtedly a command, Krum's tone was surprisingly gentle. With another few coughs Lee had to admit, he wasn't feeling well, and did as he was told. He curled in on himself and watched his interviewee make him a spread of tea. It was odd to see such a large celebrity puttering around to serve him. Seeing the tall man daintily lay out some ginger biscuits into a perfect semi-circle to go with the tea would have made Lee laugh, if it weren't so endearing.
"This is slippery elm tea, with some Pepper-Up. It tastes very bad," said Krum as he served it to Lee.
"Why are you serving me tea that tastes bad?" Lee asked, taking his cup with a dubious look.
"It is medicinal. For the throat and cough," said Krum, watching Lee closely as he took a first sip.
Lee made a face and forced himself to finish sipping down the warm drink. "Wow, this really does taste like shit!"
"Yes," Krum replied. Now Lee was certain the normally sullen man had a twitch of a smile. "It should be helping you in minutes."
Lee had to admit, it already was starting to work. They sat in silence, Krum chugging down a large water bottle, and Lee sipping his tea. Lee usually liked to fill the silence, or have it filled by someone else. Maybe it was because he was so very tired, but this silence hadn't bothered him all that much. After a few minutes Lee finished setting up his equipment.
"You ready to begin?"
"Is your throat feeling better?" asked Krum.
Lee gave a swallow and said a tongue twister under his breath. "You know what, yeah, it does feel better."
"Then I will do the interview."
"Are you saying you would have left me without an interview if my throat was still sore?" Lee asked with an incredulous laugh.
"Of course! I can't have you hurting yourself for me."
Lee wanted to be irritated with him, but found it hard when Krum was looking at him with big eyes. "It's laryngitis. Not anything bad. Plus, this is my job. I'm not doing anything for you. I'm just doing my job."
Krum's face fell back into its normal sullen look. "In that case, are you going to ask your questions?"
"Yeah, let's get going," Lee said, starting the recorder.
Krum was a horrible interview again; all terse answers with no elaboration, and not an interesting anecdote or quote at all. Agitated, Lee suddenly flipped the switch of his recorder off.
"Look, I know you hate doing interviews, but you've got to give me something better. This is the same canned bunch of answers you gave me last time!"
"My answers are the same because your questions are the same."
"No they're not," Lee said, becoming offended.
"They are," Krum insisted, an annoyingly subtle smile on his face. "I remember."
"No you don't."
"Yes. They are in a different order, but the questions are the same."
"Bull shit," Lee said, but a laugh burst forth, part amused and part exasperated at the stubbornness of Krum. "You get interviewed by like twenty people a game, so probably have had a hundred interviews since ours. Even if there were the same questions, there's no way you remember."
"Wait there," Krum said, going to a bag he had nearby. He rifled a moment then pulled out a paper. Lee recognized it as Quidditch Weekly, a paper that regularly published transcripts of his interviews. "Look."
He saw their interview, published in the paper; Lee's photo in a tiny box above the transcript, as it always was, grinning up at the camera.
"Why do you have this on hand?" Lee asked, looking over the transcript.
"I keep news from games I liked," Krum replied, a small blush colored his normally sallow cheeks.
Lee felt his own face warm as he read and realized he had indeed been asking the same questions as before. "Well… Damn, I must be really tired. I don't normally repeat myself… Sorry I doubted you."
Krum gave a shrug.
"You have a photographic memory or something?" Lee asked, handing the article back.
"Or something…"
"How about we pick up where we left off, and I ask you stuff that's not boring canned questions, and you try to smile and be charming."
"I see. You have made a large challenge for the both of us," Viktor replied with a quirk of one of his large brows.
"I guess I have!" Lee said with a bark of laughter.
"I am thinking I can do this better than you."
"You're joking!"
"I am a feared Bulgarian Seeker. We do not joke," Krum said, putting his long nose in the air in a faux haughty manner. Lee gave a snort.
"Put your money where your mouth is, then. Let's wager a galleon and see who comes out best. You with the charm, or me with interesting and varied questions," said Lee, putting out a hand.
"Turn on your recorder," Krum agreed, giving him a firm handshake.
Lee flicked the switch, determined not to let Krum win.
By the end of the interview they declared the wager a draw.
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this could be an ok place to stop, or I could continue it. You decide! :D If you want to see more leave a review :)