Ilunga: A person who is ready to forgive any abuse for the first time, to tolerate it a second time, but never a third time.
Viktor, in his thirty-one years, had seen plenty of things. Good things, bad things, wondrous things, ugly things. When he stepped out of the Floo into his living room, he was sure that had never, ever seen anything like this.
Every single soft toy in Hermione's possession (maybe twenty?) was arranged into a neat half-circle. Hermione was standing in front of her "classroom", demonstrating the Bubble-Head charm to her soft toy pupils. Behind the toys, on his dining table, two house Elves were kissing and giggling.
"Viktor!" She cast a Bubble-Head charm on him. "You should not stand there like that, we are underwater. If you don't know how to cast the charm, take a seat. We have just started."
Viktor blinked stupidly for a few moments, not quite knowing what to reply. He drew his wand and cancelled the charm. His eyes wandered around the room, seeking a clue as to what might have happened. There was an empty flask lying on the floor next to the dining table. His flask. Green Water.
Damn it.
"Hermione," he put his hands on her shoulders and shook her as lightly as he could. "Did you drink the Water?"
"Viktor, let me go!" she almost shouted, slapping his hands away. She cast another Bubble-Head charm on him. "I don't drink water, I am a mermaid. You, on the other hand, should keep the charm on. Do you want to drown?"
Shit. Viktor willed himself to calm down. She couldn't have drunk that much, could she? He cancelled the Bubble-Head charm again, and cast a light charm. He pulled his intoxicated girlfriend to himself and held her eye open, rather more forcibly than he would have liked. He held the light to the dilated pupil, which did not constrict.
Shit.
Hermione tore herself free and went on with her class after giving him a detention. Viktor couldn't help but find the situation rather hilarious, except that he was too worried to laugh about it just yet. He had no experience with his kind of substance use, access to Green Water had long been restricted during his time in Durmstrang. Perhaps his father knew? He sent a Patronus, asking him to come over urgently. He then took a seat next to a plush hedgehog on the floor, and watched Hermione repeat the wand movements for the charm. It was rather endearing.
A few minutes later, he heard a horse gallop into his driveway. He rushed to meet Grigori, who was just dismounting his large black Friesian horse, Kaamos.
"What happened?" He looked sick with worry as he handed the reins to Viktor.
"Hermione. She drank some of the Green Water that I brought back for the Elves." Grigori's red face suddenly went pale. "Where is she?"
"In the living room." Viktor commanded the horse to stay put in front of the door before they entered the cottage.
"I was just out for a ride, you are lucky that I was nearby." Grigori hurried to the living room. Viktor had never seen his father in such panic. His own heart started to race as well.
"Miss Granger?" When his old man saw Hermione, his face softened. Hermione put her wand down and threw herself at Grigori, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Grandpa! I am so glad you could make it. Wait…" She stepped back and raked his beard with her small hands, squinting. "There are pixies in your beard. Let me pick them out for you."
Grigori was a little shocked, only for a short moment, and then… he burst into a guffaw, his hands on his belly to keep it from wobbling too much. Viktor also started to laugh, all the tension leaving him like grime washed away under a hot, gushing stream of water. Hermione was still trying to pick pixies from Grigori's beard like an ape grooming her mate.
"So she is OK?" Viktor asked in Bulgarian. Hermione brought her finger to her lips. "Sshh, language! No naughty words in front of the pupils." Grigori smiled, cupping her cheek tenderly. "Miss Granger, will you answer a few questions for me, please?"
"Grandpa, why don't you call me Hermione?"
"Because I can't pronounce it, sweet girl." he circled her wrist with his fingers and lifted it. "What am I holding?"
"My wrist?"
"Is it up or down?"
"Up."
He let the hand go, and took the other wrist. "And this one? What is it?"
"My other wrist," she replied very seriously, almost as if she was testifying in court.
"Is it up or down?"
"Down." Viktor watched his father with great interest. His old man knew how to give a medical exam? Grigori softly commanded her to walk a straight line, lead her to sit down on a chair, and tested her reflexes and pupillary response.
"She will be all right." His father put a hand on Viktor's shoulder. "You can go back to work. I will stay here."
"I can't ask you to babysit her in this condition. And those two," Viktor pointed to the two Elves making out on the dining table. Grigori huffed and sent them to Krumov Manor with a wave of his wand. "It is true, I don't have to witness that copulation. I can take care of Miss Granger. I think she only had a few drops. I will probably make her sleep after you leave, it will get a lot worse before it gets better. You should have a sauna with her in the evening, helps to sweat it out." Hermione stood up, looking bored by the lack of attention, and wrapped her arms around Grigori's belly, hands barely meeting at the back. Grigori laughed again. He petted her hair affectionately. "My own children never hug me like this any more, I missed that."
"Well I will leave you to cuddle, then," Viktor was still suspicious, but he really did have to be back at work. "Hermione, I am leaving. Why did you drink that water, silly girl?" He wrapped a bouncy chestnut curl around his fingers. Hermione released Grigori and took a piece of paper out of her pocket. "This is for you, Viktor," she said, again, dead serious. It was so incredibly adorable that Viktor almost devoured her there. "This paper is very very very important. I don't… I don't quite know why it is important. But it is. Do you believe me, Viktor?" Viktor took the paper and kissed her palm. "I believe you, sweetheart."
"Good. It is very important. Don't lose it. Now, I need to teach my class." Viktor couldn't help but laugh again. He felt bad for being so amused by his girlfriend's drug trip, but the solemn look on her face, her wide eyes, the way she sternly instructed Charms to her "class"... it was just too priceless. Waving his father goodbye, he stepped into the Floo. If he hurried up, he would even make it in time for his Pensieve appointment.
The problem with relying on people's memories for visual evidence was that, unlike the non-wizarding CCTV, people were biased. They were focused on things happening in their immediate vicinity and not everything else around them, their perception was altered by whatever they were thinking of at the time, their personality, their emotions. They were easily distracted and unreliable. This was also the reason why memories viewed in a Pensieve did not hold any more value as evidence in court than the person's verbal testimony. As Viktor poured the victim memory vials into the Pensieve one by one, what he was looking for more than anything was a clear view of the suspect's face, one that he could use in his questionings. Harry and his team had gone through all the memories, and marked the one where the suspect was briefly seen before Disapparating after the attack, but they didn't have access to the glamour and Disillusionment-filtered Pensieves that the ITF had.
The first victim had not seen the man at all. The second memory had a fleeting glimpse of him before he Disapparated after the attack. Viktor had seen this one before the hunt with Scabior. He went through six more vials with no luck. The attack had taken place on a fine day, people had been walking up and down the wizarding high street, arm in arm, hand in hand, not suspecting or anticipating anything. In each memory, Viktor could see exactly when people realized that they lost their ability to perform magic: first there was the vertigo, and for a fleeting moment, the eyesight blurred and the world around smudged like watercolour. Viktor felt for the victims, even reliving it through someone else's eyes was terrifying. Seventh vial. The victims were an older wizard with his wife, having a haughty discussion about the birthday present for their grandchild. The man retrieved a catalogue from his bag, and at that moment he bumped into someone. Yes! That was the guy. The elder wizard apologized and walked on, and a few minutes later the attack happened. Viktor watched the whole memory again. The attacker reminded him a little of his partner Misha, middle height, normal weight, just… average. Nothing memorable, no features that stood out, he was even hard to describe. Misha was an excellent MLE officer, he had participated in countless undercover missions without even needing to glamour himself, because nobody ever noticed him -an anonymity that Viktor could only dream of. He closed his eyes to see if he could remember the face. He had an excellent memory with numbers, names, schedules, and actually also faces, but this face just gave him nothing to hold on to. He watched it one more time, this time focusing on the man's body. He was dressed in, well, normal clothes. He had no bag, no drawn wand, his one hand was in his pocket, was he clutching something? The vision was just too unfocused, impossible to be sure.
Viktor had another hour booked on the Pensieve. He was exhausted and motion sick from going between memories and reality. He was exhausted from reliving that terrifying moment over and over again. He switched the lights back on and opened the window. He stared at the grey sky. How would it be to lose the capability to perform magic? Viktor was luckier than most, he didn't depend on work to make a living, he had a house Elf to perform tasks that required magic, and he was familiar with the non-wizarding world. He would still have Hermione who loved him, family and friends who cherished him. It wouldn't be so bad, would it? He tried a simple charm, levitating a piece of paper, something he could perform wandlessly and non-verbally. He tried to focus on what he was doing. How did it feel? It was second nature to him now, but not quite unconscious and automatic as breathing, or physically taxing as running or doing push-ups. The Durmstrang Headmaster was right, more than anything, it was intent. It was too hard to imagine what it would be like not to be able to perform magic any more. Would it be like losing a limb? Losing a sensory organ? Viktor remembered Hermione's words to Malfoy. "If we take away your money, your manor, your title, who are you?"
You've already lost your flight. If we take away your magic, Viktor, who are you?
Who are you?
Viktor closed the window and went back to the whirling Pensieve. He would not have time to view all twenty-four vials -even if he did have time, he would not be able to see it through without going just a little mad. He picked four random vials, and said a little prayer to Dazhbog. First one was two girlfriends having a rather boring chat about shoe shopping. The second one was a young woman, walking around aimlessly after a break-up with her boyfriend. She walked to a bench on the side of the road, flanked by two columns decorated with hanging petunia baskets. A man sat on the bench, right in the middle. He was clearly in the process of pouring the contents of a potion vial into the other. The man.
Perun's rain and lightning bolts.
"Excuse me, may I please sit here for a moment?" she asked. Panic surged onto the man's face as he quickly stoppered the vials and stuffed them into his pockets. He scooted to the right to make space for the woman, who sat down and gazed forlornly at the couples who walked by. When she looked to her right a few minutes later, the man was gone.
How come Harry hadn't seen this? He inactivated the glamour and Disillusionment filter and viewed the memory again. Of course, the man looked completely different now, and the potion vials were not visible. To Viktor, it was obvious that he was doing some weird movements with his hands, but wisdom in hindsight came much easier. Too bad that the British MLE didn't have access to the new generation Pensieves that the ITF did. Viktor picked the third memory vial, which was also not very useful. In the last few seconds of the memory, there was a knock on the door.
"Hey Vitya, are you nearly done?" It was his colleague Bartholomeus de Vos, the Dutchman, the only man in ITF Sofia who was taller than Viktor. Just. Viktor packed his vials and handed the room to Tom, thrumming with excitement. Mixing two potions together. He would need to consult an expert, but to Viktor it looked like he was activating the potion by mixing the two -maybe adding the last ingredient? Or one of the vials contained something to make the other volatile. If that was the case, Hermione had been right, and it was a poison. He made a detour on the way to his office at the printing room. The printing assistant Leonora greeted him in her usual, chipper way. The young girl was busy copying stacks of forms for filing.
"I need to use the Memory Printer." The printer was a delicate and expensive piece of charm work, and could only be used under supervision.
"All right, take a seat. I'll be there in a second." Viktor went into the booth in the corner of the room and sat down in front of the machine, which looked like a slit lamp. Leonora entered the booth and drew the curtain. "OK, you know the drill. Place your chin on the stand and concentrate as much as you can, but don't force it." Viktor placed his chin on the stand. It was a little too low, which caused him to bend his back at an awkward angle, and his beard was all over the place. He didn't blink as Leonora shone the light of the Memory Printer into his eyes. Concentrate, but not too hard. Viktor kept still.
"Are you ready? One, two, three… there we go. Let's see if it worked out." She went out for a moment, and came back with a piece of paper, as big as Viktor's hand.
"It doesn't look too bad. What do you think, do you want another take?" Viktor looked at the portrait of the suspect, looking panicked as the girl caught him mixing the vials together. It was a little blurred, but would do. Viktor thanked Leonora and returned to his office. Feeling rather triumphant, he looked at his watch. It was shortly after half past four, still early. He wanted to go through the murder and missing person cases, but feared that he would lose track of time and be late -his father would want to return home before dark. He set the alarm on his watch to half past five, and laughed silently to himself as he remembered the dead serious face that Hermione made as she handed him the note. He hadn't even looked at it yet, eager to catch his Pensieve appointment. He unfolded the crumpled slip of paper. And froze.
" Please, please don't hurt my son. Please, I beg you. Kill me, do whatever you want, but don't harm him. Leonhard, my love, my son, I promise you, even when I am gone, we will never separate. Your father and I will never let any harm come to you. I love you. More than anything in the world. I will always be with you. "
P.S: The piece of paper on which this note is written is yellow and stiff, as if a lemonade dried on it. There are stains, but it is not blood. It is written with a quill, black ink. Handwriting is shaky, nigh-on illegible. Paper was folded into a simple triangle and wrapped in soft brown leather. At the right-hand corner, an oval with a dot in the middle is drawn. It looks like an eye.
P.P.S: I am slowly turning into a mermaid. If I am not able to return to land any more, at least I have fulfilled my mission. I hope Viktor will understand.
Viktor's hands were shaking. Those bastards. Those sick fucks. Had they tortured the mother, threatened her that they would kill the baby? Had they used her desire to protect her baby to forge that vile amulet and brutally murdered her? Cruel, cruel scum of the earth. Viktor stuffed the note back into his pocket and went to the bathroom to splash some water on his face. He stared at his reflection in the mirror for a second or two before he composed himself.
Had this happened before? Peggy Warrington had not been kept for a long time. How many tries did it take them to get this magic right? Perhaps they had tried this before, on another witch and her child? Back in his office, Viktor first took notes of his findings about the memories he had viewed. He then took the pile of records that were sorted according to country of origin, and separated them into murder and kidnapping cases. There were well over twenty on each pile. He huffed. Wizarding people really needed to chill and stop killing each other. He first looked through the murder pile. Family dispute, family dispute, drugs, vengeance, jealousy… standard stuff. What a waste of lives. Nothing fit the profile of the Warrington case. Before he could start with the kidnap case files, it was half past five. He reluctantly shrank the files and stuffed them in his briefcase. He would work on his work-life balance once the case is solved.
Back home, Viktor found his father in the kitchen, egg-washing a fish-shaped pastry. He immediately recognized Grigori's signature salmon coulibiac. His mouth watered.
"You're back, Viktor? Can you take Kaamos to the stables? Dinner is almost ready, it just needs to go into the oven," he called without lifting his head, engrossed in scoring his pastry decoratively with the back of a carving knife. Viktor found the black Friesian in his backyard, feasting on his lawn. He mounted the stallion and set an easy canter to his family stables that were some six kilometres away from his cottage. The forest path that he took was a detour but preferred by the horse, that much rather ran on the soft dirt ground than paved roads. The cool, fresh woodland air and the rhythmic footfall of the horse did wonders to wash the weariness of the day away. Where Hermione had a more stationary job and longed to travel during holidays, Viktor was away so often that he couldn't wait to be home when he had no obligation to be elsewhere. He loved his home country, his cottage, his family home. Hermione sometimes jokingly told him that he became more and more like his father as he got older. But then again, who didn't?
He dismounted Kaamos when they passed through the stable gates and led him to his booth. After untacking him and making sure that he had enough to eat and drink, he checked the wards around the place and Apparated back home. His father was settled into Viktor's favourite armchair by the cold fireplace, swirling a glass of red wine that Viktor didn't remember buying, and reading a large book that was surely not Viktor's. Pebbles was snoring lightly on his left shoulder, and Lev Davidovich was perched on the other, eyes closed.
"Ah, there you are. Did you untack him?"
"No, I left him chewing his bit. He won't mind. Where is Hermione?"
"Upstairs, sleeping. She has been sleeping since you left."
"Did you give her a sleeping drought?"
Grigori snickered. "I have raised three children, Viktor. Including my menace of a younger son who would take his broom to bed if I let him. I have five grandchildren under the age of eight. Do you think I need sleeping droughts to send one little lady to bed?" Viktor nodded and headed upstairs, not waiting for his father to start another "when you were little" tale.
He lightly knocked the bedroom door before he went in. Hermione was sleeping, sprawled on the bed on her back. She had kicked the blanket away, again. Viktor kneeled beside the bed. His girlfriend's forehead was clammy, and her t-shirt soaked with sweat. He pulled the strands of hair away from where they clung to her wet brow. Afraid that she would catch a cold, he pulled some fresh clothes from her drawer. He also took a towel from the bathroom and filled a large glass with water. Hermione was a deep sleeper, but this time she didn't even wake up as he dried her skin and changed her wet clothes. Resting her head in the crook of his arm, Viktor lifted it slightly and brought the glass to her parched lips. She gulped greedily, still half sleeping. He laid her down gently. Still, he couldn't help pressing his lips to her soft tummy before pulling the blanket back up and letting her sleep.
"Didn't you wake her up for dinner?" Grigori pulled the golden brown pirog out of the oven. Viktor realized just how hungry he was as the savoury aroma filled his nostrils. He kissed his father's scantily haired dome. "I don't think I could have even if I wanted to."
"You should try to wake her up, otherwise she will be up at night." Grigori handed him the plates and cutlery to set the table. "The coulibiac needs to rest for five minutes. An owl brought the English paper. It is on your desk."
The paper on his desk was indeed the evening edition of the Prophet. Viktor curiously glanced at the first page.
'Terrorist Group Behind the Cardiff Attack Demands the End of British Wizarding Democracy!
In an anonymous letter sent to the Daily Prophet HQ, a terrorist group has claimed responsibility for the terror attack in Cardiff, which deprived eighty-three of our citizens of their ability to perform magic. The terrorist group has demanded that the democratically elected Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, step down from his post. Among other demands is the severance of the bonds between the magic and muggle worlds.
"The Ministry of Magic has never and will never negotiate with terrorists," stated Minister Shacklebolt, "Our brave, selfless, sovereign British witches and wizards have never and will never succumb to the terrorist outside forces who wish to tear our democracy apart. Neither will they tolerate those who stand in their way to carry Wizarding Britain into the 21st Century. I urge all citizens to strictly adhere to the regulations within the State of Emergency, and assure them that the Ministry is doing everything within its power to bring the culprits behind the bars of Azkaban. Terror and threats will never dictate our future."'
The rest of the article reminded the citizens of the rules and restrictions. There was a small note added: "As of today, all wands will be tracked. Citizens are encouraged to cooperate with the Aurors, who will place the tracking spells on their wands."
Viktor read the short article again. Was this the "milder version" that Harry was talking about? He counted six occurrences of the word "terror". In the bottom right corner, there was another, small headline: "International Travel Ban In Wizarding Britain". All international Portkeys cancelled, no travel in and out of Britain until further notice. Hmm. He turned a few more pages. There was no mention of Blankley's denial letter.
"Dinner, Viktor." Grigori brought the steaming pirog to the table on a large wooden cutting board. "Are you sure you won't wake Miss Granger up?" Viktor took his seat and helped himself to a glass of water. "I will go check on her after dinner. I don't know if it is the Green Water or just pent-up exhaustion, but she was sleeping very deeply." Grigori shook his head in understanding. "Head or tail?" he asked, knife hovering over the pastry.
"Head." He loved the tail, but so did Hermione. He tucked into the crispy, buttery, flaky sour cream pastry filled with deliciously savoury layers of salmon, mushrooms, rice and hard-boiled eggs, seasoned perfectly with lemon zest and dill. He couldn't imagine anything closer to perfection.
"How is your schedule for the next few days?"
"I need to travel to England tomorrow and the day after to question some people." Shit, he should have registered Hermione for the International Floo. Well, he could still do it tomorrow and have her come with him on Thursday.
"What if you are not allowed to travel?" Grigori sipped his wine. "I read the paper. I don't know what they are thinking."
"If I am not allowed to travel, I drop the case, take my leave and spend the summer with Hermione. It is not my problem, then. But I highly doubt that the travel bans apply to the ITF."
They finished the rest of their portions in silence. As Viktor was helping himself to a second piece, he heard the stairs crack.
"Hello Viktor, oh… hello Grigori. Excuse my attire please, I didn't know you were here. I must have fallen asleep, but I don't know when. I dreamed that I was a mermaid." Both men burst into laughter.
"I know, I know, it is a silly dream. I will go change." She looked at her sleep shorts and t-shirt.
"No need to change, Miss Granger, this is your home. Please sit down, I'll serve you." Hermione smiled and skipped down the stairs. Viktor also smiled as she kissed him and his father on the cheek, and wondered if she would ever remember what she had done under the influence of Green Water. "Oh oh oh, fish pie!" she clapped, "I'll have the tail." Said tail landed on her plate without further ado. "I am famished. I don't know what happened to me, I downed three glasses of water when I woke up. I don't even remember changing."
"You were tired, sweetheart. Don't worry about it." Viktor watched fondly as Hermione demolished the tail end of the pie, which was more pastry than filling. When they finished, Viktor moved to clear the plates, but his father wouldn't hear of it. He levitated the leftovers and dirty plates to the kitchen, and returned with a fresh set of plates and a strawberry roulade dusted with powdered sugar.
"Grigori, I love you," Hermione professed as she was handed a plate with a large slice of cake. "I love you more than you'll ever know."
"Maybe you should learn how to make cake, Viktor," said Grigori, laughing. Even Viktor accepted a slice of the rather tempting looking cake. It was soft, full of juicy garden strawberries, not too sweet, perfect. Viktor wasn't a bad cook at all, but nowhere near as proficient as his father. Grigori often said that he didn't know how to fry an egg before he had kids. Maybe that would do the trick for Viktor one day, too.
Grigori didn't linger after dinner. When he was gone, Viktor settled on the sofa with Hermione. Viktor knew that he would have to confront her sooner or later about her use of a forbidden substance, but he would much rather have her confess it herself. It was slightly worrying that she still didn't seem to remember anything.
"Viktor, I need to confess something," she said timidly. "Please promise you won't be mad at me."
"When was I ever mad at you?"
"I don't know, whenever I am reckless?" She was averting her eyes, and Viktor allowed her that little bit of refuge that she needed.
"I was never mad, just worried, that's all."
"The charm on the bundle, I think it is one of mine. At least, I helped develop it." This was indeed rather shocking, but he didn't say anything and let her continue.
"It was… about a year ago, I think? George had this idea to develop a diary. Should someone other than the owner read the contents, they would forget about it immediately." Of course, why ward the diary like normal witches and wizards would do, sneered Viktor inwardly. Sometimes he thought that George got away with too much. "He consulted me on the development process, since apparently I have a talent for memory charms -something that I am not proud of, by the way." Viktor didn't like where this was going. "I told him that a much easier and less invasive way to do this would be to have people not be able to think of the contents, rather than permanently erase the memory, which, as you know, is illegal."
"And you tell me this now?" asked Viktor, a little louder than he would have liked. Hermione finally raised her eyes to meet his. Viktor saw the guilt and shame in them, still, he couldn't find it in him to soften the expression on his face, which he knew must have been slightly scary.
"Please, Viktor, believe me, I only made the connection recently. I had a lot going on."
"How recently?"
"I don't know, a couple of days ago?" Viktor rolled his eyes. "It was still a suspicion, I couldn't be sure. Then I called George to ask him if he ever marketed the diary that we had talked about. He told me that he did, but it was not a bestseller. He did tell me that the charm was brilliant, though, and that he might come up with a few more products that utilize it. The only downside was that, when people got really drunk or high, they seemed to remember the things that they read. He had a customer complaining about that, demanding his money back. Probably something with the altered brain chemistry, I'll have to look into it."
It didn't take much more for Viktor to put two and two together. "So when the Hogwarts Elf came to visit, you called Tsvete. She came to greet her with the Green Water to show hospitality. You asked what it was, they told you, and you decided it was just the perfect opportunity to nearly get yourself poisoned with no one to help if it went really wrong." Viktor jumped to his feet and walked away from the sofa, needing some distance. He had promised that he wouldn't be mad. In fact, he wasn't so much mad as disappointed, which probably was even worse.
"You knew about the Green Water?"
"I found the empty flask, and the Elves were fornicating on the dining table." Viktor decided to keep the drug trip to himself. Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth to hide her gasp. "Don't worry, if I know my father, he probably burned the old table and transfigured one from the manor to look like mine. But that's not the point. Hermione, do you realize what you did, and what the consequences might have been?"
"I knew you would be mad at me. But when I figured out that this might be something that I caused, though unwillingly, I had to do something." Viktor looked out of the window, his back turned to his girlfriend. He didn't say anything. "The Elves told me how much would be safe for a human to take. I started with a few tiny drops, and when I noticed that I was able to think about the bundle, I stopped. And I am fine, aren't I?" Her voice was begging him to turn back. He didn't.
"So you think somebody learned the spell from George?"
"What? No! It is more likely that they just tore some leaves out of a diary to write on. George said that he made the spell quite strong. He doesn't do things by half." Fan-fucking-tastic, thought Viktor. Two geniuses working to make his life difficult. He never stood a chance, did he? "Maybe you can question him, he might remember if the suspect bought a diary or not."
"I will look into it. Do you remember anything about what happened afterwards?"
"I think I managed to write down what was on the… thing. I can't really think about it any more. George didn't develop a counter-spell. I will work on one, when I have time." She tried to sound reassuring. "Do you have all the information you need for now?" Viktor nodded. "The rest is kind of blurry, I guess I just fell asleep, and the Elves carried me upstairs."
Viktor didn't contradict. He turned back to face the sofa where Hermione sat with her knees pressed together, and her hands on her lap. He longed to comfort her, but he couldn't. Not yet.
"You know that the consumption of Green Water by humans is forbidden, right? I should take you into custody for that, and bring myself into trouble as well for providing you with it. Did you even think about that?"
"I didn't know," she replied in a small voice.
"Not knowing the law is not an excuse to break it." He was being a little mean, but she did need to understand that she had been reckless.
"I screwed up big time, didn't I?" Her voice trembled slightly. Viktor couldn't hold back any longer. "No, you didn't," He sat next to her and pulled her to his chest. "You made a mistake, yes. I just wish you had told me all this before. We are partners, remember? It all could have ended very badly. Green Water is forbidden for a reason. It is difficult to dose, its potency changes with the seasons. What if you were poisoned, and suffered lasting consequences? What would I do? I can't have that, my love. Nothing in the world is worth that." At that statement, she jerked, and pushed herself away from his chest.
"Are you just saying this because I am your girlfriend? What if Misha had done what I did? Would he get a pat on the back instead?" Oh, joy.
"No, little witch, if he had done what you did, he would be suspended for drug use and have a disciplinary hearing. Since you are "just a consultant", you get a slap on your wrist." She was rearing to protest, but he didn't let her. "As an MLE officer, I have the right to exercise some judgement. As this is your first offence, you regret it, and promise me that you will never do it again," he waited for her confirmation. She nodded. "I am letting you go with a warning. Now," He grabbed a fistful of hair near her scalp and gently tugged. "You will go to the bedroom and undress for me, and I will fuck you until you stop thinking."
She put her hands on her waist, eyebrows knitted into a fake scowl. "You seem rather sure of yourself, Mr Krumov. What if I say no?" Viktor gathered both her wrists behind her back with his free hand and slightly fastened his grip on her hair. He revelled in the goosebumps that dotted her skin. "If you say no, then there will be no sex. If that is what you want." He sank his teeth to the side of her throat, just deep enough to make her mewl. Then he released her. Hermione slowly stood up. "Alright, but because I want to, not because you told me to." He laughed as she trotted up the stairs. His hands were already tingling with the anticipation to redden her bossy little bum.