Chapter 2: The view from the friend-zone.
Summary: It's like the view from the nosebleed section. You see everything, including things you wish you couldn't, and meanwhile you are so far from the action you may as well not exist to the main players of the drama. You are, in fact, less than a footnote in their lives.
It wasn't that she didn't know he existed. It was more that she largely seemed not to care, and when it was brought to her notice she either seemed vaguely surprised or vaguely annoyed.
No, that wasn't fair.
Sometimes when she noticed him she was profoundly annoyed by his presence.
Fuck.
And meanwhile, she was surrounded by boys who clamored for her attention, and who all got it.
Perhaps he was going about this all wrong.
All the meaningful looks in the world weren't helping. Neither were the occasional smiles. It didn't help that he'd somehow picked up a hunting pack of fans who were less than discreet, and who also tended to annoy her.
The one bright spot in all of this was Hermione's annoyance of his hunting pack. They annoyed him as well, though he hid it perhaps better than she. But her annoyance, even though it often times trickled over onto annoyance at him, it brought him hope. Perhaps… perhaps she did not want pretty girls following his steps for more than one reason?
Viktor allowed himself to hope.
She was clearly dating Harry Potter.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He may as well just rip his own heart out now and have done with.
She was not dating Harry Potter.
But neither was she throwing herself at her just-a-friend-Viktor before he had to go off and steal an egg from a nesting dragon.
That she was helping him was obvious and reasonable. The poor child, regardless of whether he had secret and unknown abilities against dark wizards, was clearly and entirely outmatched in the Tournament and equally as clearly someone had managed to enter his name in order to kill him.
In that way, Mr. Potter had Viktor's sympathies, all that could be spared.
In the way that Mr. Potter also had Hermione's time and attention whenever he wished it, and had her flinging herself bodily at him in times of great stress and receiving all the love, affection, and support that she could give, Viktor would cheerfully kill him himself, if only his morality would excuse it. Which it wouldn't. So Mr. Potter was safe from this quarter, at least.
Sometimes. Occasionally. Rarely, Viktor entered the library to find her alone and immediately gravitated to her. This was not one of those times, but this morning at breakfast it had been announced: There would be a Yule Ball. He had been warned by Karkaroff the night before. He had been warned that he should find an appropriate young witch to escort and it was clear and obvious what his headmaster meant by appropriate.
Not Hermione Granger, who was by no means a pure blood witch.
It was a good thing Viktor Krum frankly did not give a shit what his headmaster wanted in this regard. In such matters he answered only to his parents, and his parents had already given their blessing to his love. He would go with someone else only if she turned him down, and then only possibly. Possibly he would come down with a violent cold the day before and be unfortunately unable to attend, what a shame.
It was imperative, however, that he be able to ask her as soon as possible, before any one of the other boys who circled her like vultures had gathered their courage. He had researched the exact wording and written the note out the evening before the general announcement, and it was only a matter of finding the perfect and rather immediate opportunity to give it to her and then to wait for her response.
I hope you will forgive the manner of my asking you this, but would you do me the great honor of attending the Yule Ball with me? There is no one else with whom I would wish to attend.
If he couldn't pass the note to her by the end of the day of general announcement, he would enlist Vlad. Any of Vlad's plans were sure to work, and also sure to cause a scene.
A letter dropped into his lap as he sat in the library. He twisted around only to see her retreating back. It was a nice view, but frankly not the one he wanted most.
I would be honored, yes. I miss studying with you; you're so quiet and respectful, I hardly know you're there and I can get real work done, not like with my other friends. Of course I don't miss your groupies. They're a menace. How's your English coming along? And how are you enjoying Hogwarts so far? I know details about Durmstrang are a secret so I won't ask, but I do wonder how the two schools compare. Anyway, I know you must be quite busy, so don't feel as if you need to actually answer my questions, it's fine. And congratulations on the first task. I'd hate to face a dragon under any circumstances but you showed the most courage, I think. Well done, Viktor.
His heart stopped in the best way with the first line and a half, and in the worst way as the second line finished. She liked his presence because it was like he wasn't there?
And yes, the hunting dogs were a menace.
And no, English was not going anywhere as he had no conversational partner.
Hogwarts was both dream and nightmare in turns, depending entirely on her own disposition toward him that day.
Durmstrang was a school. Nothing interesting there. And could there be any useful comparison at all? This was the school at which his love studied. Did aught else matter?
Another polite dismissal, God, it was killing him.
And congratulations? With no subtle undercut? Had she censored herself at the end? Or did she really mean it?
But… she would go with him. She had said, and now he wouldn't have to fake illness on the solstice. The best thing would be to just… focus on his studies and figure out what to do with the message of the merfolk. An hour to reclaim a thing of value stolen, lest it be lost forever. Clearly underwater. So the issues at hand were breathing, navigation, mobility, and carting back whatever was lost, in addition to the water hazards which, as he already knew, included a kraken.
It was a good thing he liked swimming in cold water.
It wasn't enough, of course, to realize moments before he had to enter the water that it was very obviously Hermione who had been taken hostage, whom he had to rescue.
It wasn't enough, of course, to see her there, in stasis but looking dead.
It wasn't enough to have forgotten to take a deep breath and end the transfiguration before he came to the surface, and thus terrify the woman he loved.
In the best moment possible as they were huddled together on the bank of the lake under towels, he had her full attention, he had just rescued her from uncertain peril (surely the merfolk were not so uncivilized as to not return children?) he asked her to visit him in the summer because surely he would have no better time to prove to her that it was not just as friends that he wished to take her to the Ball?
Perhaps for someone else, someone with more luck, or more skill, or more romance in his soul. But not for Viktor Krum. No. No, it could not work that way for him. Of course it could not.
No sooner were the words out of his mouth than she spotted Harry Fucking Potter and dashed over to him like Viktor did not exist.
And perhaps, for her, he didn't.
End note: Halfway through!