Chapter 53: Wherein ritual echoes are felt by all.

Summary: Scrolling back in time to January 4th and continuing on from there, we see our favorite couple.

"So, what's the plan, exactly, for Christmas, round two?" Hermione asked, her head laying on his naked chest, his hand stroking her hair.

"The day before is fasting, and the next day is when we exchange presents - not every family does, but we always have. Is not strongly associated with St. Nicholas or pine trees - these are western additions from other cultures that the eastern church has never had time for. Food Christmas Day is more simple and no meat or dairy, but fish is okay. Is a time to go to church, be with family, remember what it is to love."

"Except for the fasting it sounds nice," Hermione commented.

Viktor chuckled lowly. "I have still ordered meals for everyone else. But I don't run or train when I fast."

Hermione thought about this for a moment.

"In no way do I wish to derail your religious observance, especially as it means something to you. But does the fast extend to sex?"

Viktor snorted. "Absolutely not."

"Oh, thank God," Hermione breathed. "Next question, the ritual has us… well, copulating frequently. Is that going to be a problem? I mean, are you going to faint by the end of the day and before you get to breakfast?"

"Mm," Viktor said contemplatively and was silent for many moments longer. When Hermione raised her head and looked up at him, he was clearly lost in thought.

"Well," he said slowly. "The fast actually breaks whenever you go to church, the night before, or the next morning. Whatever. I had planned for us to go to the night service. Though we will not stay perhaps even as long as I had thought. I hate the idea of being at church and also desperately wanting to fuck you. It is very strange in my head, you understand."

Hermione nodded. It was very strange in hers, too. "I don't think we should cut short your church time, though," Hermione said contemplatively. "I think this would be a good time to test out the time turner. See if it really does curtail the desire the first time around if the second time around we're charging the ley line, so to speak."

Viktor snorted softly.

"You know," she said kindly, "we really are idiot children. We should have listened to Mory. Put everything on hold for six weeks. And now here we are, making the simple complicated because we did not sufficiently plan." Hermione sighed. "Do you think when this is all over we'll ever want to have sex again?"

Viktor snorted slightly louder this time.

"Mm. Myon. Right now I want you so completely, so entirely, and so without end that I cannot actually imagine a time when I don't want to be inside of you, even slightly. It's just inconvenient, is all. And it gets worse, the longer we stay away from each other."

She blinked and stared at him. "Wait, is it really constant for you? I mean, it's frequent for me. Extremely frequent. But not actually constant," she asked, her head raised and looking at him again.

Viktor groaned. "Right after I orgasm, for a little while I can think very clearly about other things, but even then, the waves still lap at my feet, even if they are not quite large enough to surf."

"Can you actually surf, or is it just a metaphor?" Hermione asked, getting distracted by the idea of Viktor in a wetsuit.

He grinned. "Yes. Can be very dangerous in Black Sea, as the best waves are in the winter, but not so bad for wizards. Am looking forward to World Cup being held in Argentina this year. But the ocean will be cold, or I would suggest you try it."

Hermione had zero desire to learn to surf. None at all. A negative amount of desire, really. Flying, at least, was occasionally useful. Surfing, she was sure, required even more coordination and was even more decorative.

"Surfing is a spectator sport, Viktor," Hermione said flatly, "but I will be happy to watch you from the beach, especially if it is a tropical beach. If it is a warm tropical beach I might even wear a bikini and scare small children with my collection of scars-"

Viktor grunted his displeasure and shifted, rolling slightly so that he was now hovering over her. His face, in fact, was three inches away from hers, now. As she lay back, she let her fingers trace the lines of his biceps, flexing as he held himself over her.

"Myon. People stare at scars because they are curious. It is an advertisement for a story they have heard of, perhaps, but not been told in complete. There is a fascination there, perhaps, but not fear. And you would be beautiful in a bikini and I like this idea very much. Let's make sure to include some warm beaches on our honeymoon," he said, lowering himself slowly as he did so until he rested his body against hers, though he still held most of his weight off of her.

He hissed as their skin began to touch, and already Hermione could feel the desire for him beginning to grow. Again.

Sometimes she wondered if it was totally ridiculous, four sentient couples each having sex with their mates in order to reenergize a quartet of ley lines (to what end, Hermione wasn't entirely clear as her books were not entirely clear and her former tutor was really quite useless), but then Hermione often had that reaction when it came to magic - much of it was a bit ridiculous, divination perhaps being the largest example, though of course it did work for some people who weren't total charlitans. Apparently. And even if Arithmancy and Ancient Runes made more rational sense to her, the fact that if you pronounced 'wingardium leviosa' as it ought to be pronounced in Latin it wouldn't actually work as a spell to levitate something… it was ridiculous.

It was all a bit ridiculous.

But really, if seen in the right light, the non-magical world was a bit ridiculous, too.

And Hermione might have considered the issue a bit deeper, run a few thought-models in her head comparing and contrasting the ridiculous nature of reality with or without the presence of magic, but Viktor quite easily regained her attention, his lips brushing across her cheekbones, the tip of his cock nudging at her entrance.

And that made her think back about the issue of sex during fasting and what eastern Christmas would look like, and the fact that there was still much to be said on the topic.

But then he was inside of her again and she didn't care anymore. Inevitably they would pick up their conversation later. For this particular and beautiful moment she was content to groan and writhe beneath him, her fingernails raking lightly down his sides and making him groan and shiver in return.

He worked over her slowly, making it a gentle and sweet coupling. She rolled her hips every time he came back to her in a slow, sweet thrust. It was timed with their breath, the gentle pull and push of air, matching the motions of their bodies, each sighing as he sunk back deeply inside of her.

And Hermione was overwhelmed.

It wasn't explosive, raucous, needy sex, but she felt so exquisitely close to him, as if they both lived inside the heart of the other. They still had the power to hurt, offend, and confuse the other, but somehow, some way, they also had the power to heal.

The orgasm snuck up on her and washed over her just as softly as their coupling had, her breathing falling out of sync from his own, but soon enough he joined her quietly, his sighs getting just a little heavier until he stilled over her, his torso draped heavily over hers but not so much she couldn't breathe.

Hermione finally wrapped one leg half around his waist, her thigh hitching up and her arms clinging to his back.

"Roll," she quietly instructed, and held on as he did so, bringing her up and over him.

He was still inside of her, softening but not quite soft, and by now Hermione knew that if she continued to stimulate him it wouldn't be long before he would be ready for the next round.

What it would be like once the first six weeks were past, she was intensely curious to know. But for now, there was sex, and a lot of it. After an initial period of annoyance and adjustment, she'd decided to just enjoy it as much as possible.

She sat up on his hips and felt the heat of his hands on her own holding her firmly, even as his thumbs made soft circles on her skin.

Before the wedding he'd playfully called her on being sexually competitive, and Hermione had no doubt that at the time, she'd been that way. Then, the idea of competition had seemed fun. But now, somehow, she didn't care in the slightest.

Their movements continued on as they gently made love to one another, quietly revelling in the peace and joy they could find in the sex so gentle it was almost sedate, and yet it came with a laser focus. This was not an intimate moment they could talk through, or fantasize during, so entirely and completely were they in the present moment.

And so it went through the night.

"Can we return to the question of sex?" Hermione asked gently between rounds at perhaps ten in the morning.

"We seem to, regardless," Viktor remarked blandly, but when she glanced up at him, there was a humorous little quirk of his brow that eased some of her concern. She sighed and soldiered on.

"It's clear to me we're in the midst of some sort of sexual mania, and I get that we're all swept up in ancient magics that we didn't see coming but that were, in fact, predictable from a certain point of view, and that this is just day five of forty-two."

Here Viktor grinned like a man who was, in fact, having all the sex he ever dreamed of having, with the woman he dreamed of having it with. She tried not to begrudge him the joy he felt. She failed.

Hermione took several deep breaths. "I get that you're enjoying this and I'm trying to be sensitive to that."

"Wait," Viktor asked, and his face was serious again. "Are you not enjoying yourself? Are you in pain? Or not wanting this?"

Hermione exhaled heavily and thought about his questions as Viktor pulled the sheet up around her and laid on his side next to her with a single hand laying heavily on her abdomen, over the sheet.

"I'm not in pain," she said first, getting it out of the way. "With the sheer amount of sex we're having I think I probably should be. All the books I read said I ought to be, at least at first, though that was a while ago now. But no. I'm not in pain. I'm sure that's the ley line taking care of us as we take care of it. Likewise, I don't feel any ill effects from the absolutely dreadful sleep we've been getting since the thirty-first. And I'm sure that will continue on as long as the sexual mania does."

Hermione thought about the rest of his questions. Did she want this? Was she enjoying herself? These were the difficult ones.

"I… this is really hard to say, Viktor."

"I am here, and I will listen," he said quietly, and Hermione put one of her hands over his and just stroked the back of it as it lay quiescent still on her abdomen.

"Do I want this, yes and no. Am I enjoying myself, sometimes." she took a deep breath and then another before going on. "When we are actually having sex, yes. I am enjoying it. I love you, I am attracted to you, we have an excellent and I think very healthy relationship, and I very much enjoy the sex that we have in all its variety. And in that way, yes, I do want this."

"But there is another side to your feelings," he said quietly.

She nodded silently for a moment and just looked at him, so grateful that he was taking her seriously even though her experience was apparently quite different from his own.

"Tell me," he said.

And she did. She had to close her eyes though, and a tear squeezed through that she hadn't anticipated. "I don't want to be forced to do it."

Her tear was on the side of her face closest to him and he kissed it away.

"We could refrain," he whispered gently and she loved him for being willing, for even suggesting it, even if it was a ludicrous idea.

She laughed, eyes still clenched shut, and it was not a happy laugh. "You know we can't. In another twenty or thirty minutes if you haven't initiated sex, I will. Like clockwork. Because I'll want you and it will start to be overwhelming and all my concerns about consent and coercion will be right out the window because I will consent. The magic will see to that. God! Is it any wonder my ancestors had a dubious history with sex, magic, desire, and consent? I mean, if this is how every monarch begins their reign? And maybe it's a gendered thing. I mean, maybe this much sex just seems like a dream come true to you, but this does not seem natural to me. And when the desire is at…" she searched for a good way to put it. "Ebb tide," she settled on, and continued in her explanation, "I can feel just how unnatural it is. And it's scaring the hell out of me, Viktor."

She rolled toward him then and he held her close as she cried in his arms. She cried, somewhat tangled up in the sheet that was partially between them and partially not. He'd accio'd a handkerchief at some point for her, and that was helpful. She cried, her sobs trailing off after several long minutes. It dawned on her then that Viktor was holding himself somewhat away from her and as she rearranged the sheet a bit and snuggled up closer to him, she discovered why.

He was hard.

"It begins," he whispered, still just holding her.

"Fuck," she breathed out in resignation, emotionally wrung out.

"In so many ways," Viktor confirmed, his own tone rather sad. After a long moment he spoke again. "I don't want it to be like this with you, Myon. It makes my heart hurt to think you've felt coerced all this time."

She looked up at him only to discover that his own eyes looked red rimmed, as undoubtedly hers did, too. "No," she whispered. "Don't think that. It hasn't been like that the whole time. It's been, well, kind of like a slowly creeping consideration that has only, you know, fully bloomed in my mind. And I swear, Viktor, if I did not want to have sex with you, I would not be having it. And intellectually I understand. I understand why the ritual is the way it is, why it gives as much as it takes, why the participants must be in a committed, partnered relationship. I get it. This is the way we charge the ley lines without resorting to human or animal sacrifice. And intellectually, going and having sex for six weeks with the man I love and desire anyway seems like an extremely small price to pay to have... whatever it is the ritual will end up actually giving us, and the rest of the world."

"But you want to have sex on your own terms, not because magic tells you to desire me now, have sex with me now," he said.

"Yes. And, and I'm very much afraid that if I don't… deal with this, and maybe not just, just ignore it and soldier through, that… that…"

Oh, it was so hard to say.

"That what?" Viktor asked gently, but she thought by the look on his face maybe he already knew what she was going to say.

"If I don't deal with my issues of consent now, that when it really is up to me, my own self, my own body, my own emotional reactions, and no more magic compulsion, I'm really not going to want to have sex with you for a very long time. And it won't really be about you. It'll be about me. And I don't think it'll be, you know, necessarily conscious. I don't know. I don't know if that will really happen, but it's a horrible feeling I'm having."

"First I say this," Viktor said, after kissing her forehead. "It is day five of forty-two. Let us continue to talk about this and see if we can come to a place of peace for both of us."

She scoffed, but he continued.

"No, Myon. Don't be like that. Yes, I am more comfortable with the constant desire because that is really not so different for me. The only difference is in being able to actually have as much sex as we do, and as little sleep. But you cannot imagine that I want you to feel forced." Here, his heart was in his tone, and Hermione felt bad for imagining that she could be in emotional pain without it affecting him, without him wanting to shoulder it all for her.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"I love you more than my own life, Myon."

"I know," she murmured, shifting a little so she could reach his lips. "I feel the same," she murmured against them before kissing him gently, and then more deeply.

After a long moment and a deep kiss that seemed to say so much more than words could convey, he pulled away and kept her from following him.

"Not yet," he murmured.

And then Hermione realized what had happened.

"Dammit, I'm sorry," she muttered ruefully.

It was no longer ebb tide.

"Second, I say this," Viktor continued, though this time both of the hands he had at her back were moving in less of a comforting back rub motion and more of a sexual caress. Or perhaps that was just her own outlook. "Yes, I love having sex with you, and this I loved before the ritual on the lines. But you know I can be patient. And there will be times quite naturally when we do not have sex. All my books tell me this is normal, and my parents, too. And if one of those quite natural times is directly after the forty-two days are over, this too seems very reasonable to me. I am not a sex-crazed ogre, Myon, no matter how much I want you right now," he said, and his last words, murmured between them in the privacy of their bed seemed as sultry as any of the hottest of his letters to her and for a long, long moment Hermione was caught in his half-lidded gaze that seemed to somehow see through her, deep inside to the core of her and it was an intensely sexual feeling of being known.

Hermione gasped a little, still holding his gaze and when the heat flooded out from his hand she pushed the sheet down and away. Still she held his gaze as she rolled back and pulled him on top of her, wrapping her legs around his waist.

Still she held his gaze as he shifted over her, his cock sliding easily inside of her without the aid of hands to guide. She squeezed him and his sharp intake of breath only seemed to intensify his gaze and it felt, somehow, as if he was penetrating her twice, pinning her to the bed with his cock and his eyes, both. She couldn't look away.

Viktor shifted his arms so that he was resting on his elbows with his hands curled up and around, behind her shoulders. It was the position, she knew, that gave him the most leverage for the hardest thrusts, at least when he was over her like this.

Still she held his gaze.

"Beauty walks through the garden, plucking roses where she will," Viktor said, holding himself incredibly still above her, despite the positioning of his arms. Only his cock pulsed, growing momentarily larger within her and making her breathing audible.

"You and I, she plucked long ago and entwined our stems for beauty's sake," he said.

"It was not our choice, to fall in love, nor our choice to fall in lust," he said, pulsing again.

Hermione gasped, but held his gaze.

"But like Concordia once began, we make our choice every day," he said, and began moving ever so minutely within her. Tiny thrust. Tiny withdrawal. So gentle. So soft. And still holding her gaze.

"Shall we be but one burst of beauty, quickly plucked and quickly fading? Or will we persist? Become more?" he asked, thrusting slightly harder with the question. "To choose love? To choose life?"

She squeezed him as he thrust inside of her, still so soft, so gentle.

"Some choices will not be ours to make," he said, grunting softly as his thrusts got progressively firmer. "And some choices will be ours, alone," he said, and they were his final words on the matter.

Hermione never broke her gaze away. Her nails scratched at his shoulders. Her legs shifted higher up to put her hips at a better angle. Her core squeezed him like a vice. And in silence she received his relentless thrusting that lasted, really, for quite a bit longer than even the best of the stamina trials, and each thrust inched her closer and closer to her own orgasm.

And still she held his gaze.

"Where's Viktor? Is he alright?" Ginny asked as they all did some minor stretching in the Great Hall and nibbled the odd croissant.

"He's fasting today, and he doesn't train or run when he's fasting."

"Right. So. Are we going to see him at all today, then?" Ginny asked. Hermione's mother had drifted over to give her a kiss and linger for conversation, as well as Fleur who was standing with them now, on one leg, sipping tea while doing a hamstring stretch with perfect balance.

Hermione sighed. "Oh, God. I'm sorry. We're being awful hosts. I'd like to blame this bloody ritual."

The women were slightly apart from the men who were also stretching and though they made comforting noises, Hermione continued, though at a whisper.

"We're recharging the ley lines, well, the one line we're responsible for, and we sort of knew that was going to happen, but we really hadn't figured out beforehand how, short of you know, human sacrifice, and it turns out it just requires us to have nearly constant sex for about six weeks. Which is inconvenient if one is also trying to host a house party. And, you know, live life. And we can't actually resist for too long, though we're going to see if using the time turner tonight can help ease things a bit so we can actually go to church tonight and not be, you know, distracted."

Helen Granger was grinning. "Oh, the problems you have, sweetheart."

Hermione glared at her mother. "Mum," she said, her tone conveying her annoyance.

Fleur just tutted. "Non, non, you must not worry about us. We are all having a lovely time, yes? Very relaxing to read, to play games. And you have some very nice horses now. Bill and I go riding after breakfast now and it is quite nice. We hunt redcaps. Sometimes we have a massage in the afternoons. And you know, the sex has been particularly good since the new year," she said, with an impish smile.

"Absolutely it has," Ginny added in an undertone. "Thanks for that, Hermione."

"I quite agree," her mother said with a grin.

"I just," Hermione continued, her angst unassuaged, "I hope you won't decide to never visit again because you think we're terrible hosts. We really do want to spend time with you, it's just… difficult."

Her mother's face got serious. "Hermione. Listen to me. This is not you inviting friends over to the house you grew up in, and then ignoring them to go read a book in your room," she said, referencing a pre-Hogwarts incident Hermione herself had chosen to forget. "This is a well-stocked estate with plenty of servants, food, and amusements. We miss you. We love you. But now we understand even better why we only see you at meals. And it's okay. Sweetheart, it's okay."

"It really is okay, Hermione," Ginny added. "We really are having a nice time. Fleur's teaching me how to ride a horse and you really do have some amazing animals here. Harry and I have been having a good time exploring the barns and stables and things. And, well, though this might be weird, and I don't mean it in a weird way, with you not being around… actually, well, it's given Harry and me time to get to know Helen and William. Because, yeah. I have proper inlaws now."

"Ohmygod I totally forgot," Hermione said, eyes wide, as they all finished their tea and began drifting out the main door to actually go for a run. "I'm a terrible sister and I totally forgot that you guys made it formal and adopted him," she said, tearing up and staring at her mother who was at least warming up with them today.

Her mother smiled softly at her as they began to run slowly. "It's okay, sweetheart. Really it is."

Ginny chimed in as well. Ginny, her honest-to-God sister-in-law. "Honestly, Hermione, right now would be the time to give you a right kick in the arse if I thought you needed one, but I'm not going to because it's fine. You've got a tremendous amount going on and it's not surprising that you've forgotten things and can't remember which way is up. And we're actually on vacation, so despite the fact that you two are still managing to have the odd meeting and work the situation with the plants and animals and whatnot, if you need to have sex with that stud of a husband of yours every ten minutes, I say go for it."

Hermione laughed a little, and her running stamina was such that she could actually laugh a little and still keep pace with Ginny and Fleur and her mother, even if her mother was running slowly this morning.

"It's not quite that bad. Not every ten minutes. More like thirty or forty-five," she clarified.

"Are you getting enough sleep?" Fleur asked.

"Enough being a relative term, yes," Hermione responded.

"If its thirty and not forty-five, then are you going to cut your run short?" her mother asked.

"No, probably not. I mean, we haven't before."

Fleur made a little noise of consideration and everyone waited for her to speak. "I wonder… that is, hmm. Well, it is difficult, and I cannot know, but… If you refrain, would that explain the overwhelming desire we all sometimes feel for our own partners? Because sometimes the desire is good and strong, but sometimes it is… gigantic. If the ley line cannot take it from you, it will take it from us?"

"Oooh, that does make sense," Ginny agreed.

"Okay, now I want to study this," Hermione said.

"We should keep journals," Helen pointed out. "Note the time when we start feeling desire, and note the time when we start feeling it overwhelmingly. And Hermione-"

"Yes, I should keep notes of when we start and when we stop, and when we start feeling the desire again. Well, when I do. It's constant for him, apparently."

"Of course it is," Ginny muttered with a grin. "But if you're okay with it, I'll talk to Luna about this and get her to keep a journal, too."

"More data. I like it," Hermione said.

"Should we bring Sofia in on this?" Helen asked.

"I'm going to leave that up to you," Hermione volleyed back. "But I don't mind her knowing, her and Narcissa both. That way everyone is in the loop."

"Everyone but the guys," Ginny pointed out.

"Yeah, I'm okay with that. I mean, tell your partners if you like, and if I had time I might try and talk with Harry about this, but…"

"You barely have time to eat," Fleur pointed out.

Hermione sighed, feeling the distinct pull of wanting Viktor again. She almost said something about it, but refrained. "Well, Elizabeth did want me to spend quality time relaxing during this vacation and she forbade me from working more than half days."

Helen chortled. "See? The Monarchy is worth it, after all."

Hermione was not sure what, exactly, she would find when she returned roughly an hour after she left, and some eighty minutes after they'd last finished having sex. Not that she had exactly looked at a clock, but roughly. She might have been nervous if she had also not been almost to the heaving bosoms and ripping bodices stage of wanting him. Or at least that's where it would have been in one of Ginny's so-helpful wizarding romance novels.

When she opened the door, she heard the sounds of his cello. Then she heard several very clearly wrong notes, and some odd bowing before he sorted himself out. Not that she could see him. He was in their sitting room. But she could hear clearly enough.

"Tampy?" she called.

Her personal elf in a tie-dyed pillow slip apparated in, closer to the dressing room door. "Good morning, Miss. A bath for you and master?"

"Yes, please. Thank you, Tampy."

The elf snapped her fingers and Hermione heard the sound of the tub filling layered over the melancholy cello.

"The Pendragon Fabric Elves have finished embroidering and bespelling your sheets, Miss. Tampy could change them while you're in the bath."

Hermione had a moment of wondering if she would regret this, as it might take precious minutes out of her alone time with Viktor, but she okayed it all the same and heard a rather tell-tale wrong note being played, if she wasn't mistaken.

Well, that was Viktor's opinion, duly noted.

It seemed that going into the sitting room would just make things difficult for both of them, so instead she took a deep breath and went into the dressing room and started taking off her running shoes and socks, and then doing some more hamstring stretches while the tub filled.

"How are things in the elf quarters, Tampy?"

Tampy sighed. "It is very cramped down there."

"Apply to the space elves to have things made bigger," Hermione pointed out.

Tampy sighed again. "The space elves are not wanting to make such decisions without the Head Elf's agreement."

"I see," Hermione said, and did she ever. And then she thought about it some more. "You know, if it's uncomfortable to live here and you can still hear me at a distance, you do have options."

Tampy stared at her hard. "I must go where you go, and stay where you stay."

"Yes, alright, and if you wanted to visit your father and brothers, you could. And if you wanted to go to the Rosary and practice Viktor's favorite dishes, you could. And if you just wanted to go out and walk in the woods or swim in the lake, you could. I'm just saying, if you don't want to stay cooped up in cramped quarters, you do have options."

Tampy looked thoughtful, but then snapped her fingers and the water stopped filling at the perfect level. "Tampy will think on this, Miss. Sheets first," she said, and then she was gone.

Hermione had no idea if Viktor was intending to join her, or waiting for her to finish, but she shucked her clothes as quickly as she could and tossed them into the bottom of the wardrobe where dirty clothes stayed for a brief period of time before being picked up to get cleaned and mended by, well, just Tampy at the moment, or possibly Trip.

Still, the hot water felt amazing even if the urge to masturbate in it was keen. No. No. Better to wait. Scrub now, sex later.

Body scrubbed as quickly as possible and still no Viktor. Hermione accepted the difficult fact that she needed to wash her hair. It was not a quick endeavor and she almost put it off, but in the end, didn't.

She noted, however, that Viktor's playing shifted in tone to loud and passionate. Hermione guessed she had five minutes before he gave in, which meant…

She put the three bottles of hair care away after all. It could wait one more day.

Out of the tub and drying off, the water began to drain away without the direct presence of an elf, which was the best she could hope for without major renovations to the magics of the water management system.

Feet in bunny slippers and cozy warm bathrobe tied firmly around her, Hermione went out into the bedroom to look at the embroidered sheets.

It was all quite lovely, really, not that Hermione knew one technique from another. But on the top of the flat sheet, and the edge of all four pillow cases were a line of rose vines with white and red roses, and then in the center their personal crest - green dragon rampant holding a pot, black background, white roses crossed beneath. It was really quite beautiful.

She tried not to think about how much she wanted him.

Hermione glanced at the mantel clock as the music came to an end and she heard the soft sound of Viktor's cello being laid down. Seven thirty-four.

As he stalked through the door he tossed a red hooded sweatshirt in the general direction of the dressing room. Which left him in dress trousers. Which must have been the first thing he picked out of the wardrobe. Really she would have expected sweatpants or jeans.

She forced herself to stay put. She was next to the bed, after all. "Missed me?" she asked rhetorically.

"I am not supposed to be initiating vigorous sex today, Myon," he stated mildly, which she supposed was something of an answer to her question.

"You were very well-behaved while I was in the bath," she said, reaching for the waistband of his trousers, but he stilled her hand.

While she gave him a questioning look, he calmly turned down the bed and then laid himself on it, trousers still on.

It was Hermione's opinion that trousers in general were much more difficult to get off once you were already laying down. And yet he did so. She almost asked about it, but then she decided that she didn't actually care enough and what she really wanted was sex right now.

She kicked off her bunny slippers and opened the buttons of his fly. She had been fully prepared to just pull out the appropriate bits of him and have her fun due to said difficulties of trouser removal while prone on a bed.

And then Viktor lifted his hips for her to take them off of him, and at this point Hermione couldn't actually help but to roll her eyes and sigh. "Why didn't you take them off when you were upright?" she asked in a rather testy undertone.

"They dull the sensations of arousal," Viktor murmured as she tugged his trousers off, but this news made her sigh even more. "Not much, but it helped," he pointed out.

Hermione wasn't sure why that made her even more annoyed. Possibly because, yet again, he was more prepared for this than she was. An asexual pair of dress trousers would come in dead useful right now. Of course if such a thing for women didn't exist, she might make a pair - but without proper testing how could she be sure that the long-term health of her hormones and reproductive organs wouldn't be negatively impacted? And she certainly didn't want to test such a thing on herself. How would one go about doing clinical trials in a safe manner? Rats? Would magic even work on rats the same way as humans? And how far into animal testing did she feel comfortable going? Rats yes, rabbits no? What about pigs? Monkeys? Arithmancy might help, but animal testing probably wasn't even an option because if it was magic and wouldn't work exactly and reliably the same way on non-magical humans why would it work on other members of the animal kingdom?

And so there was a war within her and it was one of which she was quite aware. In one corner, there was the rather attractive option to be annoyed with Viktor, the patriarchy, and the magical world. In the other corner, the underdog option: to have sex with Viktor.

In the end she tried to do both and was satisfyingly successful with neither one.

Viktor caught his breath after his orgasm, which was thankfully only moments after hers. He was grateful because what had just passed between them was odd and unpleasant and the fact that it was an odd and unpleasant sexual encounter didn't make anything better. Already she was tying up her robe and across the room.

"If it happens that the time turner is useful in giving us hours free of desire during this time, Myon, I would rather use it and simply talk through our pain. I do not ever want to again have sex when one of us is angry," he said quietly. He knew she was upset. He wasn't sure exactly why, but so far the reasons were never huge ones. It probably wouldn't be this time, either.

"Yes, I suppose that would be better," he heard from the dressing room, and then he heard the door close to the small chamber that housed the toilet. He sighed and got up, picking his trousers up as he went to also put some clothes on.

They could talk in the sitting room, or upstairs in the third floor study would be even better if they were going to use the time turner.

Viktor pulled on a pair of jeans, a pair of thick wool socks, a long-sleeved thermal undershirt and the wool sweater his mother had brought him back from his parents' trip to New Zealand. He slipped his feet into a pair of loafers and then switched places with Hermione when she left the toilet. When he came out again, she was similarly attired. Wool sweater, jeans, and her silver-blue pair of dragontooth heels. Pointedly, she was tucking the time turner underneath her sweater. He glanced at the mantel clock and took note of the time.

They took the central staircase rather than their private door and on the way up between the second floor and the third, Viktor did a double take as he saw himself and Hermione coming back down the stairs.

While he was still blinking, his own somewhat annoyed Hermione reached back and grabbed his hand and murmured distractedly to him.

"Don't think about it," was her advice as she continued to walk steadily up the stairs.

But Viktor couldn't stop staring. It was one thing to use a time machine. It was another to encounter your future self who was smirking down at you… and who just winked as he passed by.

That smirk was so annoying. Viktor had had no idea until now.

Secure on the third floor with the door shut behind them, Viktor asked the question he couldn't get out of his head. "Is my smirk always that annoying?"

"Depends on the context," Hermione sighed and peeled off to her side, and Viktor followed. At least his smirking, winking future self boded well for the resolution of whatever was going on between him and Hermione. The encounter was good for that, at least.

By the time Hermione got upstairs and into their third floor study and running loop (she had imagined in inclement weather, just running around their doughnut shaped castle on the third floor several times, though push had yet to come to shove) she was fairly calm again and feeling a bit foolish for having gotten upset to begin with.

She threw herself down on one of the club chairs in front of the floo-enabled fire that sprang into flames as she approached, one of the ancient safety features of the castle, Mory had pointed out some time ago. After all, ashwinders only hatched from unattended fires, and there were no such thing in their bijou tower.

Hermione sighed and let her head lay back on the cushion as she wiggled a little and sprawled some more, sticking her feet closer to the fire. Her feet were actually perfectly warm, as her footwear were apparently appropriate for any situation, but a little extra warmth was always appreciated in January. She sighed again and glanced over to her left where Viktor had taken a comfortable but significantly less sprawled seat on the squashy sofa, the end nearest herself. His face looked passive and she couldn't tell what he might be thinking. It could be anything from time machines to sex to magic to religion to the fact that he might be quite hungry at this point in his fast.

"What made you so upset, Myon?" he asked gently and Hermione looked off into the fire instead of meeting his eye.

"It's stupid," she cautioned.

"Tell me anyway," he encouraged.

"Your formal trousers."

"Is it the color?" he asked and for a moment she took him seriously and wondered if he'd lost all sense of proportion, but when she looked over incredulously at him, his eyes were alight with humor, even though his voice had remained neutral.

She sighed and rolled her eyes at him. "No, dear, it's not the color." She sighed again. "I suppose I was jealous about their charmed nature which is such a subtle but good idea, presuming it is entirely safe and without side effects beyond the obvious primary effect, but I…" she sighed again and glanced around the carved stone mantel depicting someone, possibly Merlin, or Mordred, or somesuch, casting some sort of something in a wandless but extremely dramatic fashion. Again, she sighed. "I guess… I was really jealous… of how prepared you are. Of how prepared you always are, for every eventuality. I mean, I consider myself a prepared sort of person, and then I stand next to you and feel like an idiot."

Viktor snorted.

Hermione looked over with hard eyes.

Viktor gave her a totally disbelieving look.

Hermione raised a silent eyebrow, daring him to disagree with her in words.

Viktor rolled his eyes at her and gave her another stare, this one kinder, but more along the lines, perhaps, of Mory's 'You're An Idiot Child' stare. Possibly. She couldn't be certain, of course, but it was likely.

Hermione doubled down on her raised eyebrow.

Viktor sighed, and finally used words. "Myon… your level of preparedness impresses Papa. And not much does. And our family, perhaps reasonably, has many, many family spells and charms to help mitigate overwhelming lust. We could not prune the roses without them. And for the most important times of my life, Myon, I was totally unprepared."

"I demand examples," Hermione said, perhaps a bit petulantly, but she really couldn't recall any moment in which Viktor was unprepared. Not in his work, not in his schooling, not with his family, not with his friends. He was just never unprepared. And it irked her greatly. Not that she wanted him to fail, but a little imperfection would be appreciated.

"I came to Scotland with terrible English, even though I had two weeks to find and perfect translation spells and charms, or to obtain items that would translate between us. I knew you were British and unlikely to speak fluently any of the languages that were fluent for me. But I thought you were much older and I did not listen to Mama. I did not expect to see you at Hogwarts, and so I did not prepare once it was clear that I could not find out who you were. I had time. Spoken translation charms are very complex. I might not have been able to manage one without more practice time than I had, but I could have commissioned something for both of us to use. But I didn't think I had to. I thought I had a year in hand to practice my English before I might find you again." He shook his head ruefully, but Hermione could see that there was a sadness, and maybe even shame underneath his bit of self-deprecating humor. "Totally unprepared."

Hermione watched as he looked off into the flames.

"Was the beginning of a year of being totally unprepared for… to try to win your love. Nothing went according to plan. Not a single fucking thing," he whispered.

He was quiet for a while, then, and Hermione wondered if she should move over to the couch next to him but for the moment, at least, she stayed where she was.

"It worked out alright in the end," she whispered, eventually.

He scoffed quietly. "And it almost didn't. I have nightmares, you know? About what might have been? You know, right after I left from spending that year, after I graduated, far before Papa helped me to sort out my mind and my heart, I was signed by the Vultures at the end of the summer. And my friends all took me out to celebrate. I got outrageously drunk, Myon. And apparently, though I have no memory of this, I missed you so much that I came home and wrote you a letter. Thankfully I did not send it. I fell asleep on it, instead. I never even fully read it the next day. Once I realized what I had done, I burned it. And last night, I had a nightmare that I sent it after all. I could remember, or imagine, writing it, so filled with longing and stupidity. And then four days later, getting a brief note from you, worried because I had sent you a ten page letter in Bulgarian, but promising to translate it as soon as possible, and in that moment realizing what foolishness I had done, how you could never love or respect me after that. And filled with horror I wrote you a note begging you to just burn it, even though I knew you wouldn't. Dream Hermione was just as curious as my own Myon. She would never have burned such a letter. And so I was left with the pure horror of knowing I had pushed you away and it was my own fault. All because I was not prepared for that year and I had left with you uncertain as to my intentions."

Hermione moved to the couch.

"It was just a dream, Viktor," she said, cuddling into his side and facing him a bit. "I'm right here. We are together."

"It felt so real," he murmured, shifting his arms, then pulling her onto his lap, sideways.

"Do you remember the letter you wrote?" she asked gently.

"In far too much detail."

"What was it like?" she asked, her voice gentle and even.

"It was the letter of an idiot," he scoffed.

"I mean, what was the tone of the letter?" Hermione restated.

Viktor sighed, apparently giving in. "I was clearly drunk. I rambled. I praised your beauty. I was explicit in how much I desired you, how much I missed you. Repeatedly explicit. Not particularly eloquent. I suppose, thinking of it now, it was not entirely damning save the three-quarters of it in which I clumsily attempt to seduce you while drunk."

Hermione smiled up at him. "Oh, Viktor," she sighed. "If you had sent the letter, it wouldn't have ruined anything. I promise you."

Viktor looked at her, his features screaming of his silent disagreement.

She smirked at him. "No, I'm right. You have to give in on this one," she pointed out amicably.

He refused, with a single eyebrow raised.

"Viktor, I… You know I had a crush on you. That's how I categorized it, at least. And I…" Hermione hesitated. "I, I know in the past I may have said that I was too young to have felt much of the physical desire at the time, but I… well, okay, that was, just… Um…" Hermione stared dead at the fireplace. "I lied. Because I didn't want you to know that I'd seen the half-naked rookie pin-up you did and… and… that I'd been masturbating to it the whole year. That and the sound of your voice. And the way you'd look at me. And eventually, your smile."

The chest she was leaning on vibrated with almost silent laughter. "I see," he said.

"So… if you had sent me an extremely explicit, if drunken, love letter… I'm... not sure where we would have gone wrong with that."

"More fool me," he said.

Hermione was alarmed by his flat tone, but when she ripped her gaze away from the flames and up to his face there was a small rueful smile.

"Don't worry about what might have been," she whispered against his lips. "Not when you've got a lap full of what is, right here."

He kissed her then, and it was sweet and gentle and not at all insistent, despite the amount of time they'd been talking. When the kiss ended, she checked her watch, but they still had another twenty minutes until the hour mark. She relaxed into his arms.

"Is the time turner method of avoiding the ley line lust working?" he asked.

"Yes, quite well, I think. Haven't you noticed?" she asked, confused.

Viktor looked her dead in the eye. "Myon. You're wiggling on my lap." He gave her an expectant look.

Hermione just grinned a little at him. "Sex for six days straight and you get your first hour free, only to want sex anyway? How are you going to manage church tonight?"

"Step one," Viktor began, "You will not be grinding on my cock at any point. Step two, clothes with lust charms. Step three, prayer."

Hermione nodded while grinning. It sounded like a good plan.

She might have said something else, but just then an owl flew in the third floor window by her desk in silence, dropping the letter it carried neatly in the center and then landing on the stand nearby. She squinted at the creature and thought about it for a moment.

"That looks like Minerva's owl." She looked over at Viktor. "Would you mind terribly if I look through the letter just to make sure there's nothing important in it?"

Silently Viktor nodded toward the animal and Hermione hopped off his lap. She started to skim the letter, but of course quite quickly she got quite involved and just read it instead.

January 6, 200_
Hogwarts Castle

Your Majesty,

I am in receipt of a request of residency for a Master Zhong on behalf of the Advisors to the Empire, which I believe means we're discussing Magical China. I'll spare you the flowery details. In short, I'm inclined to agree for a variety of reasons, but foremost as I plan to negotiate and turn this situation into an opportunity to replace your ley lines tutor.

But Hermione, you must, you absolutely must tell me if things go amiss. The earlier I know about such things, the better and smoother life can be for all involved.

I understand you're to go to China for the Lunar New Year. You'll miss classes, but that can't be helped, and I shall excuse you for as many days as you need - and do not think to shorten the trip because of school. This is your first state visit, Hermione. You must discuss with your whole cabinet, and especially Master Zhong, and weigh many different views before you decide.

Congratulations, by the way. As it's slowly unfolding, you seem to be conquering the hearts and minds of the magical nations the whole world over in a way that would have made Tom and his Band of Idiots green with envy. And Grindelwald, for that matter. I'm sure news reaches him eventually.

As portraits take time, do consider sitting for the one the school will commission first among the ones you will do. Let me know which master you would prefer and I'll have Neville book some time for you.

I'm quite pleased with the progress you've made in your internship, but I'm sorry to tell you that Master Nichols who has been teaching you Wizarding World History is feeling quite poorly and I have a note from his granddaughter asking to break the contract, and to give apologies to us both. She fears he is not long for the world, Hermione. I have included a note he apparently dictated to her for you, and if you wish to respond, please feel free to do so and send it on through me. I shall make sure he gets it without delay.

...

January 5, 200_
Little Simpleton-Upon-Tyne

Your Majesty,

It has been my very great honor to lead your impressive mind into a greater understanding of the ties which bind us all together. Your heart, I suspect, knew it already.

I regret that my health will not allow us to meet again in this life, but as our ancient Norse brothers would say, I shall drink to your health in Valhalla until we meet again. And so I shall.

In life and in death,
EMN

(scribed by CMN)

Hermione looked up, having read half of Minerva's letter before switching over to the one from Master Nichols.

The tears. Oh, the tears were coming. She was blinking but it wasn't doing a damn bit of good.

Why do good people have to die?

No. No. No. Stop that. Don't get philosophical. Write a response. Then cry.

"Myon? What has happened?" Viktor asked only moments after he crossed the ward for silence between the rooms.

She blinked more and looked anywhere but Viktor. She couldn't look at her ocean right now. Not yet. "I… I need to write a quick response. I… just…" she handed the sheaf of papers to him. "You can read it. God!" she exclaimed and then pulled her emotions back in on a tight rein. "I didn't even finish her letter," she said, her voice more controlled now.

Hermione sat and penned the two short notes she needed to while Viktor stood next to her with one hand on her shoulder, one hand holding the letters he, too, was reading.

January 6, 200_
Cair Paravel

Headmistress,

More tomorrow or the next day. For now, just this.

Thank you,
HRM Hermione

Enclosure

January 6, 200_
Cair Paravel

Master Nichols,

Thank you so much for teaching me, for opening my mind, and for being, perhaps, the kindest and gentlest person of clarity and wisdom I have ever known.

May your soul, and the souls of all the departed, rest in peace.

With love and gratitude,
Hermione

Hermione cried in Viktor's arms once Minerva's owl was sent with her return messages. Hermione didn't quite understand why he kept the letters with him when he walked them back over to the couch, but she happily curled up on his lap when he sat back down and pulled her in for a cuddle with a side of heaving sobs.

When she was done, she spoke of Master Nichols. Of his kindness, his wisdom, his clarity, his amazing capacity with holographic images.

"It seems so awful, because I've said so much more to you in the last several months about my erstwhile ley lines tutor and my ongoing trial that is the Pendragon Historian, and you know, I don't think I've said a damn thing about Master Nichols in all that time, and he was the best of the lot. Just quietly kind and good. Not threatening. Not melodramatic. Not ego-stroking or self-centered. That's so backwards!" she said, ending on a yell as the tears began to fall once more. "That's so fucking backwards! Why do I do that?!" And then she was crying all over again, sobbing into his shoulder as he stroked her back.

When she was quieter, he spoke.

"Your life, I think it has trained you to notice what is wrong. To notice the danger, the suspicious motive. And this has helped you survive, Myon. I am glad you have this capacity. And also, it is okay to celebrate the good, and the lovely, and the kind. It is safe to do that, now."

And then there was the third wave of tears.

When they passed, like a storm receding in the distance, Viktor spoke again. "You should read the rest of the letter."

"Oh, God there's more," Hermione groaned.

"It is amusing, in its own way," he said, and when Hermione looked up from her wet spot on his shoulder, she saw his wry smile.

With a little smile of her own, she took the letters from her husband and began to read, again.

…

I have an extremely delicate matter of the utmost urgency that is, at its base, of an entirely academic nature to discuss with you. And yet how to find the words? Be assured that I have consulted with all parties that could possibly weigh in in an intelligent manner, save you and Viktor. The plain facts are these:

1- Hogwarts is on the same ley line as Cair Paravel, and indeed, on the same ley line claimed by the humans in the ritual that took place on the 31st. This was not apparent before the ley lines were rebalanced, but Filius assures me it was part of the reason the site was originally chosen by the founders - and by the bye, do read the books Ravenclaw House has given you, most urgently. Filius has loaned me his copies and I think you will find them enlightening.

2- The blood magic ritual of the 31st will have certain 'echoes', Master Harris tells me, for six weeks following as the ley lines continue to rebalance themselves. I mark that to be sundown on February 11th. The height of the Chinese New Year is the 5th, I note. Regardless, such echoes shift and change and lessen dramatically for all humans living and working on that same ley line, which we suspect does now or soon will actually circumnavigate the globe, all based on your own behaviors. You, plural, meaning Viktor as well. The more, shall we say, of a certain action that you and Viktor engage in, the less everyone else on the line feels the mindless compulsion to do the same.

3- If our calculations are correct, the same ley line does or will soon cut through fifteen other countries, as well as Antarctica, the Atlantic, and the Pacific. Namely, the Norwegian archipelago of Svalbard, France, Spain, Portugal, Morocco, Mauritania, Mali, Guinea, Sierra Leone, New Zealand, Vanuatu, Nauru, Japan, and Russia. We have no reason to doubt that the echoes are heard loud and clear all across the ley line for as long as it stretches.

This is an incredibly delicate matter, Your Majesty, and I in no way wish to dictate to your private and intimate life. I will say that as your Headmistress, and in consultation with your professors, I can assure you that you will not have any assignments, much less due dates, until after the 12th. You will still be invited to sit your classes, should you wish to do so, but this will no longer be a requirement for you. I understand that His Highness will have work to do at least during the mornings, plus any exhibition games on Ely's schedule. If, perchance, you were to frequently skip your afternoon classes, making an appearance at breakfast and lunch, you would need only five hours on a time turner, well within safe margins for regular use. Brief meetings in the evening might be workable, depending on how long you can go without before the feeling presses on all others.

It is my hope that with the perfect balance of responsibility and judicious use of the time turner, no ill effects or echoes might need be felt by anyone in any town or village on the ley line, and pertinent to my own situation, there would be significantly more studying, far fewer detentions, and less of a black market for contraceptive potion in the hallways of this august institution than has shown itself during the Christmas Break.

And when it comes to your state visit in China… Well, this is one more viewpoint to weigh.

Yours,
MGM

Enclosure

Hermione wasn't exactly sure when she started to go numb. It was, later on, the best way she could describe it. Numb. But somewhere, somewhere in reading the second half of the Headmistress' letter, somewhere in there she had just... gone… numb.

Was it the horror of realizing that she really did have to have as much sex as they'd been having and for another five weeks? She was upset about it. Still. And it was hard to tell, really, if she should or shouldn't be upset. She didn't want to have this much sex… until she did. But the desire wasn't hers, it wasn't natural, except it wasn't quite like Amortentia or other lust potions. Attraction wasn't manufactured by the magic. Desire wasn't created ex nihilo by the magic. The magic simply… required a… donation, and facilitated the offering of it. And so love was there already, desire was there already, the issue at hand was consent. Maybe. Maybe not. Could consent really be dubious or even in question when she certainly consented to the ritual and laughed off when other participants gently warned her of consequences she couldn't see? Well, when they warned Viktor. Same thing.

Was it the sheer embarrassment of receiving such a letter? Of having not just her professors suspect what her sex life was like, but discuss it in a meeting, have confirmation from Master Harris? Of knowing that if she and Viktor postponed sex for as much as five or ten or twenty mintues, as they had just earlier in the morning when she'd gone for a run, that everyone else on the ley line, everyone in Hogwarts, was feeling it, and there were those who knew exactly what it was, what was going on, and were likely cursing her name? Well, her and Viktor's. Same thing.

Was it the fact that she was so wrapped up in Viktor she'd been ignoring Harry and her parents, who'd adopted him, not to mention any of their other wonderful guests? Harry was so fragile, he needed a best friend who wouldn't drop him like a hot rock when she got into a romantic relationship. Her parents had been dead to her for more than a year, and she was yearning to just spend time with them. And what about Narcissa and Sofia and Fleur and Neville, all of whom grew up with a perfectly clear sense of how to host a house guest, Hermione was sure, and who were now living on an estate with an almost entirely absent host? Would they all just quietly leave in the night?

Was it the fact that her favorite tutor was dying and she never got to tell him how much she appreciated him? Was it all the pain and all the death of the last year that had gone, largely, unmourned? Be happy you won the war, sure, but what about the cost of the war? On both sides? It wasn't that she had any fondness at all for Lucius Malfoy, and if push had come to shove she might have been the one to kill him herself, but his death had gutted Draco. Every death leaves someone bereft, whether you agree with their politics or not.

Was it the fact that Viktor… Viktor found this all somewhat amusing? That he found the last half of the letter amusing? Was it that he had no problem at all with the constant desire, the near-constant sex? Was it that he was, yet again, more prepared than she was? He had more useful magical items than she did, he knew more applicable spells than she did, and he was more mentally and emotionally prepared than she was.

Hermione didn't know what it was, because Hermione couldn't actually think about it. She was, in fact, entirely numb, and it was likely, very likely indeed, that it was, in fact, everything that got her that way. She could only be pulled in so many directions emotionally, and all at once, before her mind shut down to protect herself.

Unseeing eyes stared at one particular and uninteresting spot at the back of the fireplace, behind the flames. It was easy. It was sort of… restful. Her thoughts were slowed down and she could choose to just not think at all. The only problem was, Viktor was talking to her and she just… couldn't find it in her to speak. He kept going though, and expected a response, so Hermione put one together for him.

"I'm fine," she said. It wasn't an assurance. Even to her own ears her voice sounded listless and far away. But it didn't feel like a lie, either. She was fine. Perfectly fine. No emotional pain, here. Of course, there was also a zero percent chance that she would ever have sex again in her life if she kept feeling like she was feeling now because really, she wasn't sure the magic could break through this.

Well, that's one way out.

It seemed like a bit of an extreme option, but it was good to have options, really.

But she was apparently now worrying Viktor enough that he was admitting to that worry, so perhaps she should say something more.

Bet he doesn't want to have sex now, does he?

Oh, that was a bit mean. But somehow it also seemed… appropriate.

"I'm not feeling anything," she said in answer to his repeated query, as it seemed he was on the cusp of shaking her or something similarly drastic. "I don't feel anything at all."

He spoke.

Talk, talk, talk.

What did she think about this?

What did she think about that?

Blah, blah, blah.

"I don't care, Viktor," she said, her voice sounding tired and far away.

He wasn't buying it, but that was tough for him. It was the truth. She didn't care. She really didn't. If there was, in fact, a part of her that cared about the decision points he was putting to her, it was far away from where she was right now.

So he poked. He prodded. She could see what he was doing. And it wasn't going to work. Because she genuinely didn't care anymore. Hermione Many Names Pendragon did not give a shit about any of this, anymore.

But he kept poking, kept prodding, and then she was sobbing, and she could feel again, and it was horrible, and she didn't even know why she was crying, but she was, and she couldn't stop. But it no longer felt like there was a dementor in the room, leaning over her. Given her renewed level of emotional pain, however, she wasn't sure it was such an improvement.

Viktor held his wife as she sobbed in his arms, having to take deep breaths himself. Watching her go so blank, so totally listless, for so long, that was a new kind of terror for him.

He tried not to dwell on the horror of it, and instead did the breathing exercises his father had taught him, the ones he always used before a game to get totally calm so he could focus properly. He breathed in, counting his breath slowly to four, and then at the top of the breath he held it for a slow count of four. Then an exhale just as long, and at the bottom of the breath, he held himself quietly for a count of four before inhaling again and beginning the process over again.

In, two, three, four.

Hold, two, three, four.

Out, two, three, four.

Hold, two, three, four.

And again. And again. And again. And again. Somewhere around the tenth breath he was completely calm and could think back on what had happened with greater clarity.

He had known that Hermione was struggling with the desire, and then her tutor died, and then that letter had just heaped more responsibility on her head. Both of their heads, really, but he didn't seem to mind nearly as much as she did. Admittedly the letter solved as many problems as it brought up, except for the emotional ones, perhaps. And it was better to know, and thus to plan. It was a difficult subject to address and he thought the Headmistress did quite a good job at handling the delicate matter gently, but…

Well, it wasn't his feelings that were in question just now, and he wasn't the one sobbing his heart out on the sofa for the third time in two hours.

Headache potion. He'd get some for her when they went back down stairs.

Viktor held her with one arm around her shoulder, turned toward her somewhat as she was curled almost in a ball next to him, generally facing him, with her head on his shoulder. He pulled out a fresh handkerchief from his pocket and took her soaked one, shoving it in a different pocket.

"Thank you," came her wobbly whisper in between heaving sobs.

"I love you," was his response, which ushered in a fresh round of sobbing.

"I'm such a terrible person!" she gasped out in between sobs, but Viktor didn't ask about it. Better that she just cry and let it out, first.

Many long minutes passed and Viktor just quietly prayed for her to be able to heal, in time.

The sobs subsided into sniffles and heaving sighs and Hermione uncurled enough to resemble a magic-wielding biped once more. She leaned back on the sofa, her head on his arm and her body tightly against his as she looked off into the fire once more.

"You are not a terrible person, Myon," he stated quietly. "You are an uncommonly kind one."

They watched the fire for another long stretch of silence. Viktor enjoyed sitting quietly with her, though he wished it was under different circumstances.

"That's never really happened to me before," she said eventually, and very quietly. Viktor imagined she was referencing the period of terrible silence and almost complete non-responsiveness. "I wonder," she continued on, her words coming slowly, but in a very real sense from his own here-and-now wife, not the faraway waif who'd answered his queries before. "You know, it's been almost a week. Six days. And it's been longer than a week since you walked me through one of my deep-ocean therapy sessions, and we had been doing at least a little bit every day, before that. And the holidays, well, I mean, anything was better than last year, but this year has been a bit… you know. Fraught. Intense. I mean, good intense. Not on the run, not on impossible missions, nothing is life or death that I'm aware of. I mean, Christmas. Parties. Wedding. Coronation. Festival. Friends and family all around us. And everything went off really well. No terrorist attacks, no one tripped during the coronation, I didn't mortally offend Elizabeth at any point in her stay, we didn't flub the blood magic ritual and end up doing something accidentally horrible, first Christmas was lovely and second Christmas probably will be as well. You didn't 'accidentally' hex Draco at any point, our family and friends all get along nicely, and we're having really amazing and frequent sex, such as it is. I have a wonderful husband, a comfortable home, more cats than I ever thought I would, and a fulfilling career ahead of me. I have servants. I have a cottage by the sea as well as a castle in the forest…"

Here she trailed off and Viktor waited for the other side of what she needed to say. Because there was clearly, clearly another side.

"Why am I not happy?" she whispered, and her voice broke his heart, a little. "Why am I not happy?" she asked again, this time with horror in her tone.

Viktor leaned over and kissed the top of her head and then sighed. "Happiness does not come from things, Myon. Mm, maybe you have heard this before, yes?" he asked, and she nodded her head in agreement. "Is one thing to hear, to acknowledge with the mind. Is another thing to know, to hold in the heart."

There was more he could say, but it was deep water and perhaps it was best to take it in small stages.

"I think we should use the time turner every day until this is over, Viktor. Even before the vacation is over. I think I do need time to… to work on my healing, and I would like to spend time with you that isn't totally clouded by desire, and, and… I'd like to spend some time with our family while they're all still around," she said.

"Yes. This is good, I think, and this situation is very different from the regular use we had become accustomed to that I was against. I am fine with this. But Myon, I did notice you changed the subject."

She sighed. "You saw that, did you?"

"Mm," he responded, smiling a little.

"Right. Right. Um, what did you say? I can't seem to remember."

"Happiness does not come from things," he reminded her.

She sighed. "Right."

Viktor waited for her to consider the issue.

"Thinking back on last year, which is maybe too complicated of an example, but it's all I've got to go on in my own life, when we didn't have enough - not enough food, not enough energy, not enough resources, not enough information, not enough communication, and not enough time - that not having enough… let's call that stress. Maybe extreme stress. Overwhelming stress. I don't know if it was the true opposite of happiness, but I'm going to set that aside for the moment. And you know, when all of those 'not enoughs' got resolved, sometimes one by one, sometimes in a batch of several, there was… I don't really know if I'd call it happiness. Relief. Definitely relief. And it was a relief from stress. The stress was… resolved. I mean, there were lingering effects, now that I'm being brutally honest about them, but the source of stress was removed and that was a relief. More wasn't created and I just have to clean out the residue, if you will. And I think, maybe, maybe all this time I've been confusing the removal of sources of stress with reasons to be happy. I mean, that doesn't cover everything, but maybe it's okay to just be relieved that some of the major sources of stress in my life have been removed. That's not where happiness is going to be found, or created, or however that works, really, but maybe it's okay to just hold onto the relief for a bit."

"Yes," Viktor affirmed for her. "Yes, this is true, I think." After some time of silence, he continued. "You do not have to open the doors to happiness in your heart today, Myon. But that is where they are. All the wise have assured us it is so. Not out in the world, not in people or things, not in food or drink or sex." He sighed, realizing he, too, had work to do here.

She sighed. "You know, you are incredibly wise for being just twenty-one."

Viktor sighed, again. "I can recognize the true path, Myon, without following it flawlessly. For me, I get distracted."

"Oh?" she asked.

"Mm. Distracted from... properly cleaning out old pain, new pain, as we all need to do."

"What distracts you?" she asked, her tone thoughtful, as if she was perhaps considering her own distractions.

"Quidditch. And sex."

"I suppose I could have seen that coming," she commented, and it was true, she probably could have. If Viktor had to guess at her own distractions, it would be reading and researching.

"And I love them, both, Myon. But both are consuming of my attention, my focus. Yes, sometimes we work through some old pain while we are intimate, and I am glad for this. This is good."

"But mostly we don't," she added.

"No. And it is okay, I think. It must be acceptable to simply lavish love and attention and affection on you, and to receive it in return. To think only of you in that moment, only of us, to be… totally present to the beauty between us. But…" he trailed off and after a moment, continued on. "Sometimes I think my tendency is to seek that out when I feel pain, so the pain will stop. But we both know such measures are only temporary. They do not really get rid of the pain."

She sighed. "No, it's like covering a wound with a bandage but not treating it first. Not setting the bone. Not cleaning out the wound. And if you keep the bandage on for too long that way, it's worse later."

"Yes. This I had begun to consider in the last month or so, particularly in the case of losing a game and the sense of shame, guilt, and… eh, differing levels of anguish, I suppose. And at first, and for a long time, really, I imagined that the best way to make myself feel better was to be welcomed into your arms, to lose myself in your body. To just pile on one orgasm after another until we were both overwhelmed and exhausted, and therefore happy. But this is not where happiness resides. And so I came to realize that after a defeat, I must simply take care of myself, first. Get rid of the pain. Release the cause of stress. Let it all go."

She nodded against his arm. "I remember you mentioning this in a letter, and I do think it is very wise, Viktor. I thought so at the time. I'm not sure if I told you or not."

He sighed. "The point is that I still want to lose myself in sex instead. It seems faster, easier, and far more pleasant. Also, it is sex with you, and I love sex with you. But it does not really deal with the pain. It only distracts."

She sighed. "Yes, I suppose I see your point. And, well," here she turned to face him and raised one hand to softly caress his face above his beard, sending a thrill up his spine and down his cock. "Thank you. For loving sex with me."

Viktor raised his eyebrows in incredulity. "For this you thank me? Why?"

She grinned at him. "Because you find me beautiful and desirable and lovely. Because you care about my pleasure as well as yours. Because you are kind and attentive and you listen. Because it would break your heart to hurt me and I know that. I know all of that because you have made it so clear to me. So thank you."

Viktor smiled and kissed her, but just gently, just briefly. "This is all true." He glanced at his watch and noted that they were coming up on the two hour mark. When he looked up again, she was also glancing at her own watch.

"I think I'm better now, and I would like to save the other three hours for this evening, I think, so we can spend some time with our guests."

The time turner was pulled out and wrapped around their necks as Hermione pressed herself against him again. She spun the dial twice and they shifted backwards two hours and in just enough time to relocate back to their suite two floors below, though of course, not before meeting themselves on the stairs.

It was on Viktor's mind to remember to smirk and wink at himself, but it turned out to be his natural inclination. He had worried a bit that it would be difficult to replicate. And yet it was an easy thing to do, secure in the knowledge that he and Hermione were in a better place now, and also knowing how much it would annoy his younger self.

In the moment after Viktor passed himself on the stairway, the two hours older and two hours wiser Viktor had a sudden flash of empathy for his father's enjoyment of his own dreadfully embarrassing childhood episodes.

It seemed he was destined to turn into his father, after all. Considering this a moment while trotting down the stairs next to Hermione, he grinned.

There were worse people to resemble than Gregor Krum.

Author's Note: Well, friends, here we are. This is the in progress point. You are now caught up to the Arcive Of Our Own version. Now you have to wait for me to write more. For comparison, it took me 18 months to write what you just read... however! There is good news. There are three AUs that I've also written, and I'll be posting them in a daily sequence here. All the AUs are complete little nuggets of Vikmione wonderfulness and can actually be read in a stand alone fashion - the references to the fic prime are not so necessary as to make reading confusion. Anyway. Keep an eye out for that posting to start in a few days. So, leave me a comment if you'f been enjoying this because I love to hear from the people who do.