Happy Friday everyone! (And happy Hauntober!) Contrary to the last couple weeks, I will not be regularly posting on Fridays. I've just had a few surprising bouts of free time (or procrastinating what I'm supposed to be doing time) the past few weeks. XD Today, I'm actually posting from the library before the last of my midterms this week. My outline's finished and there's not much I can do besides stress so I figured I'd post here instead of embracing said stress.

I really appreciate y'all being here and the positivity that pours out of y'all in my comments, it's a very bright spot for me every week so I hope y'all enjoy Viktor and Hermione's first kiss since their reunion. :o)

Love always,

Adrien

Disclaimer: Sadly, I still don't own the Potterverse despite writing in it for years at this point. Anything recognizable belongs to JKR. The original characters, however, are all me. :o)

Chapter Six: Sexism Sucks But Beating It...

"I think we should call it a night, Mila. Tomorrow is an important day," Viktor murmurs, setting down the flashcards in his hands and reaching out to clasp Hermione's hand in his much larger ones.

"But there's still so much I have to remember!" Hermione attempts to reach out for the cards but Viktor stops her.

"You are as prepared as you'll ever be, Mila. Now is time to rest and recharge." Viktor smiles softly, squeezing her hand in a reassuring grip. "What's it you told me the night before the second task?"

Hermione huffs even though a smile tugs up the corners of her mouth. "You need rest and a good breakfast to do your best."

"That is exactly what you need to do as well as I know you can on your exams, Mila." Viktor rises from his seat, gently guiding Hermione from hers as he does.

Hermione follows Viktor without a fight, threading her fingers through his and leaning her head against his shoulder as he leads her to her room. "Thank you…for everything," Hermione whispers, rising on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek, once they reach her door.

"I would do anything for you," Viktor murmurs so quietly that Hermione isn't sure that she is supposed to hear it or not before pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Goodnight, Mila."

"Sweet dreams, Viktor."

Hermione's dreams that night weren't filled with nightmares of failure and crushed dreams as she expected. Instead, they were full of kind, dark chocolate eyes, spark-filled kisses that she hadn't even entertained in conscious thought, and a world where her brother in everything but blood wouldn't have to worry for his life just because he loved other men instead of women.

"Miss Mione, it's time to wake up," a gentle, familiar voice draws Hermione from her dreams.

"Thank you, Miss Winky," Hermione yawns, stretching her arms as she sits up.

Hermione rises from her bed and makes her way to the bathroom as Winky pops away. She takes her time going through her routine, letting as much stress as she can fall away, before she exits and bathroom and sees an outfit she'd never seen before hanging from her wardrobe door with a note precariously balanced on the hanger.

To match your Mother's favorite pair of work shoes, so you can carry a piece of the wonderful people who raised you today. They would be just as proud of you as I am.

With Love,

Viktor

A smile tugs at Hermione's lips as a tear slips down her cheek. How he always knew what she needed even before she did, before she even thought about what she needed, she had no idea.

Her Mum's black kitten heels had been sitting in her wardrobe, untouched, since Dobby had brought them to her. She didn't have anything that matched them and she hadn't had a reason to wear them…until now.

Hermione wipes away her stray tears (Honestly, who would have ever thought that Hermione Granger would cry over clothes?) and tosses her towel over the wardrobe door. She slips into a matching pair of nude lace underwear then pulls on her new, very muggle, black pencil skirt before buttoning up her new red silk shirt and tucking it into the high waist of her skirt. Draping the matching black jacket over her arm, she pulls on her Mum's heels and heads down stairs to the kitchen.

"Viktor!" Hermione exclaims, grinning at and running toward the burly Quidditch player when she enters the kitchen. "What are you doing here?" She crushes the larger man in a tight hug.

"I couldn't miss your big day," Viktor replies, smiling at the young woman in his arms. "You look beautiful by the way."

"Thank you. For the compliment, the clothes, and just being you." Hermione kisses his cheek before pulling away completely.

"Always, Mila," Viktor replies and kisses her own cheek. "Now let's eat some breakfast before we head out."

Hermione and Viktor eat a hearty breakfast before making their way to the Bulgarian Ministry where they sit in a waiting room that feels much like a muggle doctor's office, waiting for Hermione's name to be called.

"Granger, Hermione!" A gruff voice calls out and Hermione jumps, her gaze shooting toward the grumpy looking old man that had called her name before flickering toward her friend at her side.

"I'll be here when you finish." Viktor smiles and squeezes her hand softly.

"GRANGER, HERMIONE!" The grumpy man's voice has her springing to her feet before she can give Viktor more than a weak smile.

Hermione hurries toward the older man who gives her a condescending look and a brief huff before turning on his heels and snapping, "This way!"

The young woman walks with her head held high and a stoic face despite the fact that every clack of her heels echoing down the seemingly never-ending hallway makes her want to cringe and sprint back to her safe haven, her Viktor… Her Viktor? When had he become her Viktor? Maybe he had always been her Viktor… Hermione mentally shakes herself. She didn't have time to think about that right now. What she has to think about right now is proving this condescending old man wrong and showing these people what exactly it means to be a Granger.

Because her parents didn't raise her to be weak. Her parents raised her to stand against all opposition. To be confident in herself and her abilities. Hermione Granger wasn't known as The Brightest Witch of Her Age for nothing.

They finally make it to the end of the hallway and enter another room. It doesn't escape her notice that there isn't a single woman in the room when she enters. It also doesn't escape her notice that every man in the room, with the exception of Marceau who she has no idea why he is in the room to begin with, looks at her in the same way that the grumpy man at her side had looked at her the moment he called her name. With doubt and disdain, like they don't know why they are here today.

"You are here today to take the Bulgarian equivalent to the British NEWT exams, correct?" One of the men states as the grumpy guy who had led her in takes his seat.

"Correct," Hermione states, staring him straight in the eye.

"Then take your seat so we can begin with the knowledge portion of your exam," the man states, gesturing toward the single chair in the center of the room. "This portion of the test consists of one hundred questions that progressively get harder as the test continues. Twenty correct answers allows you to pass this portion of your exam. Sixty correct answers is the equivalent to a NEWT O. Are you ready to begin, Miss Granger?"

"Yes," Hermione replies calmly, her hands folded gracefully in her lap.

The next two hours are spent with the group of men taking turns in asking Hermione questions in various degrees of difficulty, all of which Hermione answers calmly and collectively despite the clear frustration slipping through the masks of a few of the men, the surprise and awe slipping through the majority of the men's stoic masks, and the anger flaring through the eyes of Marceau (who has not asked any questions and who she assumes is here merely to see how she does) when they ask particularly difficult or obscure questions.

"That concludes the knowledge portion of your exam. We will now move on to the practical portion of your exam. For this portion of your exam, you will first be asked to brew a potion to fit the scenario shown to you. After you complete brewing your potion, you will be asked to display multiple charms, transfigurations, and spells for us to judge. Then you will be required to duel each of us on the panel as well as ten champions of our choosing. To pass this portion of the exam, you must complete ten of the tasks given to you. To receive the equivalent of a NEWT O on this portion of the exam, you must complete twenty of the tasks given to you. Are you ready to begin, Miss Granger?"

"Yes," Hermione simply replies, rising to her feet as the chair behind her disappears and the room begins to change.

All the spectators disappear and in their place is Viktor who smiles softly at her, taking a step towards her before promptly collapsing in front of her.

"Viktor!" She screams, collapsing to her knees and checking his vitals even though she knows logically that this isn't really Viktor and that her Viktor is safely awaiting her on the other side of that long hallway.

The marks floating before her which she had silently conjured out of habit more than anything don't lie. This is an aneurysm. She can fix this but she has to act quickly. She silently summons everything she needs toward her, quickly prepping all of her ingredients so that she can brew the potion properly and efficiently while keeping an eye on the fake Viktor.

The illusion disappears as soon as the potion goes down the fake Viktor's throat and she is once again before the group of men who got to decide her future.

"Are you ready to begin the next portion of your practical?" The grumpy man who had led her into this room asks her with more kindness than he's given her since he called her name who even knows how long ago now.

"Yes, thank you." Hermione smiles kindly at the older man and he gives her a small smile in return.

The next portion of the exam consists of light, dark, and grey spells. Most of which Hermione only knew from her extracurricular reading (aka the reading she did to save the boy she saw as a brother every year). The last spell they ask of her though is probably her all time favorite spell which brings a smile to her face as she casts the spell, expecting to see her familiar otter friend.

"Expecto Patronum!" What bursts forth from her wand, however, is much bigger than an otter and much more beautiful. What bursts from her wand is a phoenix which soars gracefully through the air and weaves through all the men present, stopping briefly to sniff Marceau before nuzzling him gently.

"Tres beau," Marceau whispers, breaking the thick silence that had settled in the room upon her Patronus's entrance.

Hermione cancels her spell and rubs the back of her neck. "Are we ready to move on to the next task?"

The man who had led her in clears his throat. "Yes…Bring in the first of the champions!"

The first person to enter the room is a man not much older than herself, probably around Viktor's age. He loses to Hermione in less than ten minutes and Hermione realizes why exactly Marceau is here for the first time. The next eight men of various ages don't do much better. And then the first woman Hermione has seen all day walks into the room.

She's much taller than Hermione, a foot taller at least, and probably in her mid-twenties. Her hair falls just above her shoulders in a severe bob. She wears straight-legged slacks, sensible boots, and a white button-down dress shirt with its sleeves rolled up and its bottom tucked into her pants. It's a very muggle outfit compared to the robes all the men before her had worn. But like the men, she stares at Hermione with a similar look of disdain. Like she doesn't believe Hermione has a fighting bone in her body.

The older woman makes the first move, it's a cutting curse that hurtles toward Hermione faster than anything she's seen so far today.

Hermione turns to the side, allowing the curse to slide by her, as she shoots her own hex.

This duel lasts much longer than the others. More than twenty minutes before Hermione takes the older woman down with the same spell she's used on Neville their first year.

Hermione is given time to catch her breath before the first of the panel rises from their seat and makes their way to the center of the room.

The next ten duels are much harder than the first but Hermione still manages to muddle through with a lot of creativity and more agility than she ever knew she had.

A heavy silence settles on the room as all the judges stare down at their papers in disbelief.

Hermione's gaze snaps in the direction of a newly formed door when a slow clap breaks the silence.

"May I be the first to say: Well done, Miss Granger," a warm voice fills the room, the woman's soft smile taking all the discomfort from Hermione's shoulders.

"Thank you," Hermione replies, returning the woman's smile.

This woman is different from the last. She is still taller than Hermione and older but she is much older than the other woman, closer to Marceau's age than Hermione's, and her hair is pulled back into a severe bun. She also wears wizarding robes, more specifically Minister of Magic robes, instead of muggle attire.

"You have broken a record today that has been in place for the last three hundred years, Miss Granger. You are the only person in history to not only answer every question on the knowledge portion of our exam correctly but to also successfully complete every practical test thrown your way… Despite our judges being rather unfair at multiple points during your testing." The older woman glares harshly at the judges who sheepishly avoid meeting her gaze. "I expect that you will have your choice of masters should you decide you no longer wish to train as a healer."

Hermione's gaze flickers to Marceau who is giving her an encouraging smile, giving her a choice, before moving back to the woman in front of her. "I think I will stick with the man who gave me this chance and the profession that will both allow me to grow and protect those I love."

"I think we will be able to expect great things from you, Miss Granger. Just know that, as long as you reside in Bulgaria and as long as I am minister, you will be protected in this country."

"Thank you, Minister."

"Please call me Tsveta." The older woman smiles, offering Hermione her hand.

Hermione's eyes flicker toward Marceau, who gives her a knowing smile and a nod, before she replies, "Only if you will call me Hermione." Hermione grips the other woman's hand in a firm handshake.

"I look forward to working more with you in the future, Hermione, but, for now, let's get you back out to the young man who's been patiently waiting for you for the past few hours."

"I would really appreciate that, Tsveta." Hermione grins and the two women turn toward the door Hermione had entered through much earlier.

"I expect to see you bright and early tomorrow morning, Miss Granger!" Marceau calls out to her.

"I'll be there at six sharp, Healer Angelov!" Hermione calls over her shoulder right before the door closes behind her.

The two women walk in a comfortable silence back toward the waiting room but pause before going through the last door.

"You can expect an invitation to tea from me within the next couple days, Hermione. There are a few things I would like to discuss with you. But for now, this is goodbye." Tsveta waves her wand and another door appears to the right of the waiting room door.

"Goodbye, Tsveta. I look forward to seeing you soon," Hermione replies, waving as the other woman leaves.

Once the other doorway disappears, Hermione looks to the door in front of her. A wide smile splits her face and she pushes through the doorway, her eyes looking for Viktor before the door is all the way open.

He is on his feet by the time the door is open enough for her eyes to find him.

And then she is running.

"How did—umph!" Viktor's question is cut off as Hermione's lips connect with his, her arms and legs wrapping around him in a tight hug as their bodies collide. She hadn't worried about him dropping her or him falling, she'd known he would catch her. He always did.

Viktor's hands immediately go to her thighs, holding her up in a strong embrace but his lips freeze for a fraction of a second before he is responding to and deepening her kiss. His mouth opens, his tongue slipping out and running along the seam of her lips.

She opens her mouth to him, welcoming him.

Neither of them care that the Ministry of Magic probably isn't the best place for them to be making out like the horny teenagers they are.