Hey everyone! This is another one of the multi-chapter stories I will be working on. It was brought to you by the following items on the following forums:

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry:

Insane Prompt List: 958. (Title) In the Eyes

Adventure Cabin:

Zipline: Oliver Wood

Games Cabin:

Musical Chairs: Viktor Krum/Oliver Wood

Marbles: Viktor Krum

Skills Cabin:

First Aid: Wrap a Bandage (color) Scarlet

Arts and Crafts Cabin:

Scrapbooking: Maps (prompt) Write about someone traveling

Getting Artsy: Paint (color) onxy (word) flatter

Monthly Challenges for All:

Link Maker: Same Ship Type (romantic/sexual slash ship), 4,986 words

Warning for implied sexual content, cheating on a partner/spouse, and kidnapping. Also warning for a slight bit of out of character. As well as a slight take-off of the fairytale Beauty and the Beast. Word count is 4,986 words. I hope you all enjoy the first chapter of In the Eyes.

"Viktor," his manager, who also happened to be his father, "we have to make you one of the most popular figures in the Quidditch world to date. Nothing we seem to do has worked. You're seen as too dark a person."

"What do they know about me and why I am the way that I am?" Viktor asked, folding his arms over his chest. "What do you expect me to do, change for you? Change for them?"

No one knew his soft side except for one girl and she'd chosen another over him years ago. Not that he begrudged Hermione her happiness with Ron Weasley. He didn't but with her went the last shred of hope that he could find someone who wouldn't see him as a beast of a man. The last hope that someone would try to see beyond the surface and see the beauty that was within the beast.

"Viktor, are you even trying to come up with an idea to increase your popularity? We don't want what happened to that English fellow from Puddlemore to happen to you, do we?"

Viktor sighed and shook his head. He'd heard about what had befallen Oliver Wood the Keeper for Puddlemore United. Wood had been Puddlemore's crown jewel for years after his acquisition as a member of the reserve squad. He'd been a crowd favorite when he came up to the big leagues as Keeper when the last one, Juliette Romeao had gone on maternity leave and then retired to spend time with her family.

Viktor could understand why too. The sandy-haired man wasn't at all bad looking and if it came down to it that was what it took to be the crown on top of any Quidditch team's throne. A good looking player attracted the attention of all the females and males. Viktor knew that much. In fact, he was pretty sure that besides being a fan favorite he, himself, had a lot of fans at one point that would give anything to marry him.

"Are you listening to me, Viktor?" his father asked sharply, making Viktor sit up straight and look at the imposing man. Viktor was pretty sure that he looked like his father. His mother being a petite pretty thing. His hulking father was as brutish and standoffish as Viktor himself was. He also had as big a temper as his father too. Which was what had struck fear into Viktor. "Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes, father," Viktor quickly answered, praying he wasn't about to get slapped across the face for his lack of attention. "You said that we have to come up with a way to get attention for me and make me more popular."

"Then why am I not hearing any ideas from you, son?"

"I don't know where to begin," Viktor said, letting out the breath he hadn't known he had been holding that entire time. He picked up the book that sat nearby. The one that Hermione had sent him of Muggle fairytales. It had been both a comfort and joy to read the tales during these trying times with his father berating him and his popularity quickly going down the drain.

"What is that you are holding? Will it give you an idea of how to become popular again? If not, it's not important at the moment and shouldn't be here."

Viktor was about to mention that people liked smart people when the idea struck him. More like his father struck the idea. He'd struck the book out of Viktor's hand and it had landed opened to a page that Viktor had yet to read.

"Silly English fairy stories won't help you get your fame back," Viktor's father snapped, reaching to pluck the book off the floor.

Viktor reached the book first and remembered Hermione telling of the story about a beastly looking fellow that everyone feared gaining the favor of a pretty woman and it changing things for him. Perhaps they could take that idea and put a twist on it.

"These silly English fairy stories have given me the perfect idea," Viktor said, holding out the open book with the page containing the story of the Beauty and the Beast. "This story is about a beastly man who gets a woman to fall in love with him. Perhaps we can put a twist on this story and it can propel me back into the limelight. Would that work, father?"

Viktor's father looked deep in thought. He hadn't truly thought that Viktor would come up with a true contender of an idea that much was obvious. But now that he truly took the time to think through Viktor's words he seemed to be liking the idea more and more.

"But first we need to hold a competition to find the beauty to your beast," Viktor's father said, rubbing his hands together. Viktor's name still carried a bit of weight with the people of at least Romania and some from out of the country too. "This person has to be someone that will get you noticed as much as they get themselves noticed."

Viktor nodded, not liking the way this turn of events was going. He never questioned his father's directions before but the look in his father's eyes when they landed on the edition of the Prophet that Hermione had sent him. That look spelled trouble and Viktor didn't like it.

"I will talk to your mother about this idea and then we will reach out to…"

Viktor took in the fact that his father had stopped himself from saying the name. That also didn't bode well. Viktor knew that his father would do anything to get him back in the public eye again but something told him that the older man didn't know where to stop. Something told him that not only Viktor but whoever was the chosen person would end up being his father's pawn for the rest of their lives.

"Rest, Viktor," his father said, stroking his face gently. "You need to look your best for when we put our new idea into works, right?"

"Right, father," Viktor said, taking his book and heading into his bedroom. A sudden dread hit him. What if this didn't work out the way that they wanted it to? What if it did more damage than it helped Viktor's career?

Oliver smiled as he walked towards the flower stand on his way home from the Prophet. Sure, he was no longer able to play Quidditch because he'd been let go of by Puddlemoore United. But at least he could still write about it which he was very good at if he did say so himself.

"I'll take a bouquet of red and white roses, please," he said, smiling at the small grey-haired owner of the stand. "I was also wondering if you could put a pink rose in the middle too."

"Of course, I can," the woman said, smiling as she went to put together the flower bouquet for him. "How is your young man doing these days? I don't you see you two together as often as I used to."

"Percy's been busy with work and what have you," Oliver said, smiling. Percy was the only thing that had gotten him through getting let go from Puddlemore. Percy and his new job at the Prophet. "I'll try and get him to come around next time I stop here."

"You see that you do," the woman said in a faux chiding tone of voice. "I don't want to see anything happen to separate my best customers."

"Don't worry about that Mags," he said, smiling over his shoulder as he opened the door to leave. "If I know Percy the way I do, I'm pretty sure he's going to say yes to the question that I'm about to ask him." He held up a small black box with the hand that held the door open. "Wish me luck because the next time you see me I'll be an engaged man."

"Good luck, young Mr. Oliver," she called after his retreating form. Oliver didn't see the small frown on her face or hear her final words. If he did he'd have prepared for a different outcome than he was expecting. "You're going to need it."

But he hadn't seen or heard anything out of the ordinary and he had stayed in his cloud of happiness and excitement. That is until he'd reached the top step of the flat that he and Percy shared.

Something seemed oddly off as the sounds of raised voices hit his ears. Sure the flat they rented wasn't in the best part of town but they'd never had any reason for a noise complaint such as this before. He smiled as he thought of how happy Percy would be when he proposed marriage to him.

"Flint," moaned a male voice, making Oliver scrunch up his nose.

He hadn't even been aware that Marcus Flint lived in the same building. If he had been he'd have chosen to live in another building. No. Another part of town. He didn't want to be in the same area as the man who'd taken his job.

"What's my name?" Flint moaned, sounding like he was hitting someone. The sound of flesh hitting flesh reaching Oliver's ears making him wonder if he should try and help the person Marcus was hitting. "Say my name."

Oliver neared his apartment to find the door slightly ajar and the sounds of someone being hit and the moaning he'd heard had come his flat. He felt his heart thunder in his chest. If Marcus had hurt Percy, he vowed right then and there that he'd kill his old school enemy on the spot.

Pushing the door open he'd expected to find Percy cowering against the scarlet and gold inlaid couch, begging for his life. But there was no sign of his lover on the burgundy carpet near the couch. Just one of Mrs. Weasley's hand-knitted jumpers with a huge letter P on it. Percy's glasses were thrown haphazardly on the coffee table.

"Perce, I'm home," he called, hoping that Percy would cry out for help to escape his attackers but the cry didn't come. At least not the cry he'd expected.

"Marcus," moaned Percy's voice from the direction of the bedroom, Oliver and he shared. "Marcus, yes!"

Oliver felt like he was going to be sick to his stomach. He wasn't hearing what he thought he was, was he? Percy wouldn't do anything like that to him. Percy loved him, didn't he? His trembling limbs continued in the direction of the moaning which had now been joined by the sound of bedsprings.

He stopped outside the bedroom door as the sounds grew louder and the moaning from Percy more insistent. He could just turn around pretend that this had never happened. He could just turn around and pretend that his life was still the same happy world it had been minutes ago when he'd planned on proposing marriage.

He couldn't do that though. He put his hand on the doorknob knowing what would meet his eyes when he opened the door. He could feel his heartbreaking at the thought of seeing Percy like that with Marcus. But he couldn't be left in the dark any longer. He turned the knob and heard Percy's breathy voice curse and the sounds of a struggle to move away from his partner.

"What the…" Marcus began and then turned towards where Oliver stood in the doorway.

"It's not what it looks like, Oliver," Percy pleaded, pulling a pair of pants over his boxers. "Just let me explain, please."

"These are for you," Oliver said, voice devoid of the cheerfulness he'd felt at the flower stand. He let the flowers drop to the flower and turned mechanically, numbly almost, and walked down the hall.

"Ollie," Percy called, huffing as he struggled into a clean shirt. "Oliver, come back. I can explain this. I can."
Marcus snorted, followed by the sound of the bedsprings squeaking again as he settled on the bed that Oliver had bought for himself and Percy. "I'll be right here waiting for your return, lover," he said loud enough for Oliver to hear.

He could also hear Percy telling him to shut up as his feet pounded down the hall towards the living room where Oliver was numbly trying to figure out what to do. Percy panted as he stopped in front of Oliver.

"I don't want to hear it, Percy," Oliver said, letting a wavery breath. "How long has this been going on?"

"It was a one-time thing," Percy said, taking Oliver's chin in his hands and trying to get him meet his eyes. "Marcus Flint doesn't mean anything to me. It's just you had been busy at work when you were a Quidditch player. Always out of town or at practice. Then they fired you and you started working for the Prophet and it was the same."

"You're blaming this on me?" Oliver asked incredulously, staring at his shoes as though they might give him the answer. "You truly dare to blame me for what you were doing with him?"

"I'm not blaming you," Percy said, trembling as he searched for the right words. "I'm only saying that a man has needs and when his partner isn't there to meet them…"

"So, you're blaming me?"

"He didn't tell you this was a one-time thing, did he, Wood?" Marcus asked, strolling out in his boxers like he owned the place. "It wasn't. Every time you went to a different country I was here stirring the home fires." He leaned against Oliver and nudged him winking as he did. "And trust me that fire needed to be stirred." He smirked at a blushing Percy. "Ain't that right, baby?"

"I...I…"

Oliver could feel the bile rising in the back of his throat. He couldn't believe that this was happening. His life was once more going down the tubes because of Marcus bloody Flint and there was nothing he could do about. He gathered his briefcase from work and walked into the bedroom a fresh wave of nausea forming as he saw the rumpled bedsheets.

"Oliver…"

"I'm going to gather a few things and find a place to crash tonight," Oliver said, not looking at Percy. "I'll be back tomorrow to make arrangements for the rest of my stuff." He started shoveling some clothes in a suitcase he had stored under his bed for in case he was needed to cover a game or something. "You owe me, however, the cost of the bed. I don't want it now that it's been defiled the way it has."

"Oliver..." Percy cried, making Oliver's heart shatter even more than it already was. He could hear Percy pleading with him to stay and Marcus laughing at what was happening.

"You did this yourself," he said, turning on Percy angrily. "I didn't push you into Marcus Flint's arms. You did. You did. You did it!"

He stormed from the flat after shutting his suitcase. The roses he'd bought earlier were still on the floor as crumpled and destroyed as his heart was. Oliver didn't know where he would go but he was sure at least one of his friends would take him. That's what friends were for, after all, right?

"Viktor!" His father called out the day after they'd formulated their plan to get him back in the limelight. "Viktor, I have the perfect candidate for your companion. Come see!"

Viktor let out a loud sigh as he walked towards his father's office. His father had been saying he'd found the perfect candidate for weeks now. Each had turned out to be either a fake or had some sort of problem with them. He wondered what would be wrong with this girl or guy as he walked into the small drab room.

"What is it now, father?" he asked, looking at the desk in front of his father. Sitting on it was an edition of the Prophet. He hadn't known that his father was receiving the Daily Prophet. If he'd known he wouldn't have asked Hermione to send him copies of the paper. "What is that?"

"It is that English paper your friend, Hermione, sends you. Look at the front page. Isn't this the most fortunate of new?"

Viktor looked at the page to see that headline read: Oliver Wood Single and Ready to Mingle or Tragic Tale of Woe? He shook his head.

"How is this most fortunate news?" Viktor asked, looking at the moving picture of a pink-faced Oliver as he rushed past the photographer. "Someone was hurt and you saying this is good news. Why?"

"Him."

"Oliver Wood?"

"He is your way back to popularity." When Viktor didn't look like he was understanding what his father was saying the man shook his head. "He is, how the English say, on the rebound. He was once a popular player for a popular Quidditch team. Plus, if nothing else works at least you two will be popular with the ladies. What girl doesn't enjoy a good boy on boy kiss?"

Viktor sighed not knowing how in his father's mind this was the right move. That he hadn't thought of asking the handsome Scottish man out during the years they were both players. He'd thought about it long and hard during those times but Oliver had gotten into a relationship with Percy Weasley. One that Viktor could easily see ending the way that it did but he didn't want to hurt Oliver so he didn't mention it.

"Don't worry," his father's voice broke through Viktor's thoughts like a knife slicing through a thin slice of meat. "I've already sent an invitation in a way."

To say that Oliver had been surprised when he had been approached on the street by the burly Bulgarian man claiming to be a fan of his would be an understatement. He'd been more than surprised he'd been shocked. He'd always assumed that Viktor Krum would be a favorite over anyone else in Bulgaria.

"What do you want from me?" he asked yet again. He'd been asking the same thing since the man had knocked him out and tossed him into the back of some flying contraption. "People are going to start to worry when I don't come home. Percy…" The sound of his ex-lover's name hurt even to hear even though he was the one saying it.

"I know that you and Weasley boy have broken up," the accented voice called from the front. "No one will know you are gone. It will take them a while to come looking and by that time everything I've planned will be in motion."

"What plan?" Oliver asked, not liking the sounds of that. "You aren't going to hurt or kill me, are you?"

"Of course not," the rough voice answered again. Oliver could swear he through he heard a hint of laughter in the man's voice. "The whole plan hinges on you not being hurt. Trust me. The plan will work in your favor too."

"I don't understand. Where are you taking me to?"

"You will see. I'm sure you will enjoy it where I'm taking you. Very much." The hint of a smile was clear in the husky voice that sounded familiar to Oliver somehow. He just could place his finger on it.

No more of Oliver's questions were answered and he was left to look out the window of the flying carriage that was so unlike the one that Beauxbuton was rumored to have in its stables it wasn't funny. Peeking out the window, Oliver wished he hadn't. It wasn't that he was afraid of heights. You couldn't be a Quidditch player and afraid of heights. But the fact that a large body of water was beneath that didn't make this whole kidnapping thing any easier.

Water, Oliver thought as he took a second glance down through the window. Water and a Bulgarian accent. Either I'm being kidnapped because of a bad review or I'm being kidnapped for some other nefarious reason. I don't know.

It didn't take long for them to land after Oliver realized that he was in Bulgarian airspace. If he could escape and get to the Ministry in Bulgaria he had a good chance of going home without harm. But that was a big if. The man who'd taken was a brutish looking man. Tall, muscled, and he looked like he had a good bit of weight on Oliver too. Oliver's only chance of escape was the element of surprise but he was pretty sure that he wouldn't get that. Not with the carriage being so opened to where the driver was. He'd have to bid his time and then escape when his captor least expected it.

The door opened to reveal the landing area atop a building. He was going to be running far here. He looked past the man noticing a landmark of the building. It had been from an article that the Prophet had done during his time as a Quidditch player about the living areas of the most popular Quidditch players.

"Follow me, handsome boy, to your quarter," the dark man said, pushing Oliver toward the doorway that stood ajar. "You have whole wing of building to yourself and you'll want for nothing. But only if you do as you're told and be a good boy. These terms are agreeable to you, yes, no?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No."

"Then I suppose your answer is yes. What are your rules?" At the man's confused look, Oliver let out a sigh. "What am supposed to be doing that I must do or else? What do you want from me?"

"Oh," the man said, waving a hand as though that was no problem at all. "You have only to be a good companion to my boy, Viktor. Also, there is an area in building that you can't go into. That is for Viktor only. No one else."

"Is that all?"

"Yes."

For the longest time, Oliver had had the hugest crush on Viktor Krum. The brooding Bulgarian was handsome in his own right. A handsomeness that most overlooked because of how surly and dark he looked. Oliver could see the playfulness behind the beastly exterior of his competitor even back then. He'd seen something that made the younger man more attractive to him. Something that he'd almost acted on before Percy had asked him to be his boyfriend. Perhaps if he'd gone after Viktor his heart wouldn't feel like a shattered mess right now.

The senior Krum as his captor introduced himself as lead Oliver down a flight of stairs. Stopping at the door at the bottom of them he motioned to it.

"This is the area you are to stay out of," Viktor's father said, motioning to the door and the alarm that would sound if anyone would open it. "Remember, everything will run smoothly for you and Viktor if you stay away from this door."

"I get it," Oliver said, rolling his eyes. What did this man not truly get about telling people not to do something? Didn't he know that saying not to do something usually made a person more prone to want to do the thing you were asking them not to do? "I am feeling a bit out of sorts and would like to be shown to my area of the flat, if that's alright, sir?"

"Of course," Viktor's father said, smiling. "Anything for handsome Oliver."

Oliver was lead two more flights of stairs before Viktor's father opened the door to one of the most opulent sights that Oliver had ever seen in his entire life. The rich burgundy of the carpet would rival the one that was at the flat he and Percy used to share. The gold and red-striped walls were rich and gave the area a most Gryffindor look to them.

The first room he was led into was the sitting room which was furnished in the most elegant furniture and finishing that anyone could ask for. The seating was a shade of scarlet that Oliver found pleasing to his eye. The oak tables set it off nicely. The carpet was nice forest green that gave the room a feeling of Christmas which happened to be Oliver's favorite holiday. Standing in the middle of the sitting room was tall dark figured that could only be one person.

"Hello, Oliver," Viktor said, turning from the roaring fireplace. "I'm sorry that my father felt the need to kidnap you like this. He was sure that you would not agree with his proposal the same way that I did."

"Viktor," his father snapped. "I'm showing Oliver to his room so he can rest in time to join you for supper out."

"I will show him," Viktor said, in a voice that brokered nothing but a fact. That fact being that Viktor would be taking over the tour from here.

Viktor's father looked between Viktor and Oliver and a knowing smile grew on his face. "Give little lovebirds a minute to themselves, right?"

He didn't wait for an answer but quickly went towards the door he'd just entered from. Oliver could hear him babbling to himself about being excited to plan the wedding.

"He's….um….interesting," Oliver said, trying to be nice about the situation.

Viktor seemed nervous as he led Oliver towards an entryway that led into an area filled with Quidditch plays and planning material. Oliver couldn't help but noticed how much attention to detail had been put into this area of the building. He hadn't taken much notice of the rest of the building. Having only seen the stark white stairwell he'd been led down and the door labeled Viktor's area. But if the other areas of the building were anything like this he was sure that was going to like it here.

"Your father sure put a lot of attention to details into this place," Oliver stated, trying to make small talk with his crush. "How did he get all this information about my likes and dislikes? How did he even know that I was a Gryffindor?"

Viktor's dark features took on little bit of a pink tinge to them. Was Viktor Krum blushing because of his questions? "I may have helped him a bit," Viktor volunteered. "I have had a little crush on your since playing against you your first year as reserve player for Puddlemore."

"Are you kidding?" Oliver asked, feeling his heartbeat speed up a bit. He hadn't dreamed to hope that his crush had had a crush on him back. That would have been too much of a dream to find out back then.

"I am not," Viktor said, turning pinker if that was possible.

They chatted as they walked through the hallways and numerous rooms that were all to be part of Oliver's domain in his kidnapped state. They were all settled around one aspect of Oliver's life or something that Oliver enjoyed.

"Here is your bedroom," Viktor stated, breaking Oliver out his thoughts. "I will pick you back up here in a few hours for dinner. I hope you find your room to your liking and have a refreshing sleep."

"Thank you, Viktor," Oliver said, turning to open the door. But he sensed that Viktor was waiting for something. Either waiting or gathering the courage to do something.

"Can I try something before I leave you to your peace?" Viktor asked, shuffling his feet as Oliver turned toward him again.

"I guess you can," Oliver said, feeling his heartbeat speed up some more as Viktor took a step closer. The taller man stood a head over Oliver which was startling because Viktor was the younger of the two of them. His onyx eyes looked even darker than they usually did which only brought out their beauty more. His plump pink lips were getting closer and Oliver couldn't help leaning up to capture them in a kiss.

Viktor's hands slipped onto Oliver's hips and rested there as the kiss deepened. Oliver was pretty sure that he shouldn't be doing this. Not now. He didn't want to do anything too much with Viktor because he wasn't the sort to go for a rebound fling. If he was going to be in a relationship it was going to be one that would last.

Feeling Viktor move to trap Oliver between the door and Viktor, the older man quickly broke the kiss. He could see the disappointment in Viktor's eyes as the younger man leaned his forehead against Oliver's panting breathlessly.

"I'm sorry," Oliver stated, the nervous energy returning to him from previous. "I just got out of a relationship and I'm not one of those guys that go in for rebound relationships. If I'm going to start a relationship with someone it's going to be one that lasts for longer than my last one did. You know?"

Viktor nodded, accepting that he'd have to woo Oliver over. He'd have to allow Oliver to make the first moves if this relationship was going to work at all. "I do know," Viktor said, nodding. "I accept whatever you want."

Unbeknownst to Oliver and Viktor, a slight young woman had just finished taking photos of their encounter in Oliver's wing of the building. She smiled as she headed towards the door that was marked Viktor's area. She knew that her boss would pay good money for the pictures that she'd just taken of Viktor Krum and Oliver Wood making out in the hallway like a couple of teenagers. This would fetch not only a lot of money but also a well-paying job at the Prophet if she pulled her strings right. What more could any person want?

I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter of In the Eyes as much as I enjoyed writing it.