Pochemuchka: A person (especially a small child) who asks too many questions.
It turned out that fucking Hermione Granger, overthinker extraordinaire, until she stopped thinking was a rather ambitious undertaking. Viktor was still not quite awake as he trimmed his beard and rubbed contraceptive potion on his shoulders after showering the next morning. He could certainly have used more than a couple of hours of sleep. He dressed in a dark blue chequered suit and wrote a note to Hermione, who was still slumbering quietly. He yawned as he stepped into the Floo. Luckily, he had just enough time to grab an espresso before his appointment.
As he walked up Flibbertigibbet St. in wizarding London, looking for number ninety-three, Viktor was rather surprised that the address that he was given to meet Cassius Warrington seemed to be in a residential area with rows of town houses. He knew that Warrington worked at Gringotts and was aware that he wasn't meeting him at work, but he hadn't quite expected to be invited to his home, either. The rather new-looking houses had red brick facades, and the front yards were tastefully landscaped in the modern wizarding fashion. They all looked rather…similar. The city council probably had strict regulations to maintain a uniform look. Viktor wasn't sure if he liked it.
As he reached number eighty-nine, Viktor started to grow curious as to how cooperative Cassius Warrington would be. He assumed that he would do anything for the murderer of his wife to be caught, but it was also obvious that there was no love lost between him and Hermione, and that she was his girlfriend was not exactly a secret. When he reached number ninety-three, his finger hovered over the doorbell for a second before he remembered that there might be a small child in the house. Ten in the morning wasn't really nap time, but he couldn't be sure, either. He knocked the door lightly, but three times, to ensure that he would be heard. A man with a toddler in his arms opened the door.
"Good morning." Viktor held out his ITF badge. "Viktor Krumov from ITF Sofia. We have an appointment, Mr Warrington?"
"Yes, yes, please, do come in." Cassius Warrington shifted the child to his right arm and gave Viktor his left hand to shake as he showed him in. He was led to a spacious living room, where a colourful kid's playing corner contrasted the leather armchairs, oak coffee table and drinks cabinet in the adults' living space. Cassius Warrington lowered the restless duckling to his play corner, where he immediately busied himself with what looked like non-wizarding building blocks for toddlers. Viktor sat on the right side of a leather sofa for two and watched the boy try to chew a wooden cylinder. Cassius Warrington disappeared for a few minutes and returned with a tea tray. Viktor didn't object as he was handed a bone china cup full of a light-brown liquid that smelled faintly of leaf compost.
"Milk?"
Viktor almost grimaced. Was this man trying to kill him? "Black is fine, thank you." His host helped himself to a dash of milk and a sugar cube. Viktor took a sip of tea out of politeness. Although it smelled like the nettle tea fertilizer that he made for his roses, it tasted like… well, hot water. He placed the cup and saucer on the coffee table and leaned back.
"Thank you for agreeing to see me today, Mr Warrington."
"Of course, although I do have to admit that I am rather curious as to why the international law enforcement wishes to interview me. Your secretary was a little… vague about the exact nature of your visit. If it is something regarding my work at Gringotts, I have to apologize for not choosing a day when I am in the office. Since my wife passed, I only work three days a week." A cloud passed over his blue eyes as Cassius Warrington said the last sentence. So this is why he is home on a weekday, thought Viktor. He buried his empathy somewhere where he could not reach too easily and assumed a neutral stance. Wallowing in pity would not help this man.
"Not at all, Mr Warrington…"
"Cassius, please." Viktor took another look at Cassius. He was of middle-height, rather stocky and dressed casually, like someone who enjoyed being comfortable at home. He had no wedding ring on. His wand was nowhere to be seen.
"Cassius. I am here regarding some new evidence concerning the murder of your late wife, Peggy Warrington."
"Oh, I see." He sneered. "Has the muggle police come up with something new? Did those bastards murder another innocent mother in front of her child? Is it a serial killer? Please let me know all the juicy details so that I can adorn my next article with them. Do you have any photos? The gorier, the better, you know? Maybe some people will find it tasteless, but if I can prevent one witch or wizard from being brutalized and murdered like Peggy was, it is worth it." He almost spat out the last few words. Viktor had seldom seen such visceral hatred in anyone's eyes.
"You have been a columnist in a news magazine, am I correct? Would you please tell me when you started?" Viktor started taking notes, mostly to force Cassius to speak slower and think.
"After my wife died, I had to… I had to do something. And before you ask, I have nothing to do with those terrorists who wreak havoc upon their own kind. Whoever those people are, they are not true Identitarians. In fact, I would bet the entire content of my Gringotts vault that this is a scheme from Kingsley Shacklebolt. He knows he cannot gain the necessary majority to form a cabinet alone any more. After ten years on the top, it must be quite a blow. Not everyone is as prudent as you are, to quit while still ahead." Interesting conspiracy theory, thought Viktor. He took his time to put down his notes.
"So, you are an Identitarian?"
"I wasn't. Not until…" Just in time, the toddler started crying. Cassius lifted his son into his arms and returned to his seat, but the child had other ideas. Only when his father stood up with him in his arms and walked up and down the living room was he distracted enough to stop wailing.
"This grief, Mr Krum, can consume you. It can devour you from the inside until you are nothing but a shell. And I would have let it… but I can't. I have to live, and I have to stay strong for my son, who will grow up not knowing the sweet laughter and scent of his mother." He stopped to kiss the plump, pink cheek of the child. "Still, I could also not just let it go. Grief, Mr Krum… they say it grows less with time, but that is a lie. You grow as a person to accommodate your grief. So, this is where I found my space to grow into. I of course can't forbid free, grown-up witches and wizards to leave the wizarding world, but, if there is anything that I can do, anything to convince them that those two worlds are separate and should stay so, I will. I do hate that her death is fodder for political campaigns, but, after Peggy's death, the Identitarian votes have risen significantly. Perhaps after these elections, we will finally have a government sensible enough to say no to this insane direction that the wizarding world has been moving into since the war. As long as the magical and muggle worlds keep mixing, witches and wizards will not be safe. Isolating our world completely is the only way."
Viktor had heard versions of the propaganda that the grief-stricken father just recited to him several times. He also knew that although the traffic into the non-wizarding world from the wizarding world had more than doubled since the last war, and despite the increase in the numbers of witches and wizards that lived in non-wizarding neighbourhoods, married into non-wizarding families and chose to send their children to non-wizarding elementary schools before their magical formation, crimes against wizarding people by non-wizarding people had not increased significantly. In fact, even the sum of all offences against witches and wizards by non-magical people did not make it to the top five most frequent crimes in the wizarding world. The major cause of harm to witches and wizards, even after all the lessons that should have been learned from the wizarding wars, was still other witches and wizards. It was just so much easier to just blame a foreign, malign force rather than to address the faults in one's own society. Still, he didn't begrudge Cassius his distaste for everything non-wizarding. He also didn't delude himself that he could even begin to imagine what that man was going through.
"When your wife was found, you asked the Aurors to retrieve the body as soon as possible, although they recommended otherwise. Why didn't you let the non-wizarding police continue the investigation?"
"Why?" Cassius raised his voice for a second, and calmed down immediately when the toddler made a sour face. "Do you think I would let those muggles mutilate the body of my wife even more? I know what methods they use, they butcher people like animals with their knives and saws and stitch them up like rags. And even if they found the murderer, what then? He would go to a cushy muggle prison with a comfortable bed, he would get fed and clothed for free. That is hardly a punishment, is it?" He put the toddler back at his play corner, and turned his burning eyes to Viktor. "You will now tell me that it could have prevented him from killing others. Tell me. See if I care that a few muggles kill each other."
"And what if another witch gets killed?"
"Then I would say that she should have stayed where she belonged."
Viktor nodded, and handed Cassius the photo of the suspect. "Do you know this man, Cassius?"
He scrutinized the photo with knitted brows. "No, I can't say I do. Who is it?"
"He is the number one suspect for the murder of your wife. We can't say whether he was the murderer or the abductor, but his DNA was found on your wife's body, and his footprints on the crime scene. He is also the number one suspect for the terror attack in Cardiff. He is, he was, a wizard."
The genuine shock on the man's face convinced Viktor that he indeed had no idea who this man was. "What are you saying?"
"I am saying that your wife was most probably kidnapped and murdered by this wizard. He is dead. He died in an explosion, and I almost died with him. We still need to find out who he was and who he was working with before another incident happens."
"What?" Cassius grabbed Viktor by the lapels of his jacket and forced him on his feet. "You don't know what you are saying. My Peggy was murdered by muggles." His voice was breaking. "This is all a big lie."
"I am afraid the evidence suggests otherwise." Viktor made no attempt to remove the man's hands from his person. "If there is anything you know, anything you can remember that could help us, any enemies, somebody who may wish to harm your family…"
"No!" Cassius' grip on Viktor's jacket tightened as he leaned forward to lay his forehead on Viktor's chest. "No, no, no, no… Peggy… my wife... He killed my wife…"
With those words, Cassius broke. His whole body shook from his heart-wrenching sobs as he cried onto the fists that grabbed Viktor's jacket, ignoring the wails of his startled son. Viktor put his hands on the man's shoulders. He didn't say anything, didn't try to offer cold comfort or empty words of consolation, he just let him cry. Only when Cassius' knees buckled and his hands loosened their grip did he lead him to the sofa to sit down. He let the man cry with his face in his hands and cast a silencing charm around him before he gathered the distressed toddler into his arms. The poor child was almost purple from crying. Viktor walked up and down the room, just like his father had done some minutes ago, while rubbing his back and murmuring soothing words to him in Bulgarian. When he calmed down a bit, Viktor opened the window to show him the crows that were playing with a stick, which seemed to distract him enough to forget about his father's crying. After a few minutes, Cassius disappeared into the corridor. When he came back, he looked a little better. He plucked his son from Viktor's arms and kissed both cheeks.
"Thank you. You are good with kids. You don't have children, though, do you?"
"I have nieces and nephews." Viktor wiped Leonhard's tear and snot-covered face with his handkerchief. "Their parents tell me the same. Maybe there is some truth to it, I don't know." They both laughed.
"I think a little fresh air will do all of us some good. I normally take Leonhard for a stroll around this time. Would you like to join us for a bit? I don't know much, but I will tell you what I do know." Viktor nodded. He watched as Cassius prepared his son for going out with the efficiency of an experienced father. It was a fair day, still more late spring than early summer, but at least it was dry, and the sun peeked from behind the clouds every so often. Leonhard, who had thankfully put his distress episode behind, waved gleefully at passers-by, earning smiles and hand waves and blown kisses. Despite all that he had been through, he truly was a delightful child.
"I am sorry for my… breakdown. After giving up on finding out who Peggy's murderer is, it was just too hard to be confronted with all this again. I went back to the day I learned that she died. It's hard." Viktor shook his head.
"Have you already interrogated Blankley?"
Interrogate was a harsh word. "I haven't questioned him yet. Do you think he is involved? You sounded very sure that this wasn't the case."
Cassius winced at that. "I don't think he has any direct connection to the attack. Neither do I believe that the Identitarians are behind this whole thing. It doesn't mean that he knows nothing."
They arrived at a playground where a couple of mums sat on banks while their kids ran around. Cassius placed Leonhard in the sandbox, where he immediately busied himself with the shovel.
"It is his favourite place to be. Most kids don't play in the sandbox till they are a year old or so, but Leonhard already started with nine months." He smiled. "Sorry, you know, parents and kids. I try not to bore strangers with the tales of my child, but it is hard not to talk about him." They sat on a bench under a birch tree, where they had a good view of the playing toddler. Cassius had his eyes transfixed on the child while he talked.
"A week after Peggy's funeral, I had a copy of the Bulwark sent to my workplace at Gringotts. I have never followed their publications before, in fact, I hardly even knew their name. There was an article about Peggy's death, and it was… It was written with such a delicacy, such compassion, without being manipulative or overly melodramatic. Compared to the Shacklebolt bootlickers at the Prophet who had spent a total of three sentences on the fourth page on the murder, this felt like someone really cared." So, Shacklebolt had exercised control over the media even before the terror attack. Interesting.
"Following the article was an account of all cases where witches and wizards have been violated by muggles in one way or the other. As a lawyer, this really hits you, you know? There really is a gap in our legal system when it comes to crimes against witches and wizards in the muggle world. We have increased our interactions with the muggles in every way possible in the past ten years, but the framework in which this can be done safely has hardly been established." Viktor had to agree.
"How did you start to write for the Bulwark?"
"A few days after I got the Bulwark issue, I received a Christmas card from their editor-in-chief, expressing their heartfelt condolences etc. etc. He included a short note that they were looking for someone with legal expertise who could advise the public on the dealings with the muggle world. He asked me to owl him if I was interested in the details. To be honest, I wasn't. Leonhard was very little, and I was still getting used to being a single parent. Besides, my pain was just too fresh. But then, after a Christmas without Peggy, I decided that I had to do something… anything. So, I contacted them. It started with one article, but when it was published, the Bulwark was overflowing with rave review letters. People telling me now thankful they were, how useful the information had been… so I continued. Now that I think about it, my tone over the articles has changed considerably. I think I lost my sense of objectivism. But those articles, they gave me such a sense of fulfilment that I couldn't…" before he finished his sentence, Leonhard started to rub his eye.
"Excuse me," Cassius stood up, "I think he might have sand in his eye." While he tended to the boy, Viktor finished writing his notes. The Bulwark had successfully preyed on the widow's helplessness and gained him for their purpose. Evil though it was, it was still impressive.
A few metres away, a male pigeon was showing off to his prospective mate, and suddenly both birds flew off.
The wind rustled the leaves of the dogwood bush. It was the wind, right? Viktor squinted at the bushes. Was that…
Before his consciousness caught up with him, he threw himself at the father and son, pushed them to the ground and shielded both with his body. A spell that missed its target fizzed in the air.
Viktor helped the discombobulated dad and the toddler that had been sandwiched between them to their feet. "Apparate home, now! Everybody, leave!" he roared. Cassius and the other parents obeyed without question and Disapparated, leaving their toys and empty prams behind. Viktor scanned the periphery of the playground. Of course, whoever it was had long since disappeared. Without losing any more time, he Apparated to ninety-three Flibbertigibbet St.
"What in Merlin's name was that?" Cassius let him in, hastily closing the door behind him.
"I don't know." Viktor made quick work of strengthening the wards, sealing the Floo and calling for reinforcements. "I am guessing that they have found out that we have associated the kidnapping of your family with the terror attack, and want to eliminate the last witness."
"The last witness?" Viktor looked at the toddler, who was eagerly chewing on his teddy bear's ear.
"He is a baby! He can't even talk!" Viktor watched the father transfigure into a snapping Hippogriff as he embraced his son protectively.
"Legilimency can be used on babies, too. It cannot be used in court as evidence, but still, it could give us clues." Viktor looked out of the window, and then drew the curtains.
"If you think that I will allow such a thing, you are barking mad."
"Cassius, calm down."
A silver stag penetrated the door, "It's me, Auror Potter. Open the door, please." Viktor did so, and the dishevelled figure of Harry Potter marched in.
"Potter."
"Warrington." They didn't seem to like each other very much. "A team of Aurors is scanning the area of the playground. If we are lucky, we might be able to trace the Apparition. Is everyone alright?" Cassius nodded, Leonhard wriggling restlessly in his too tight clutch.
"Mr Warrington will need Auror guards twenty-four hours." Viktor asserted in a tone that left no room for sad excuses.
"OK…" Harry carded his fingers through his ruffled hair. He looked positively awful. Viktor couldn't help but be sorry for him. "Can you stay here with them for a bit? I will need to see what I can do. We are…"
"Short-staffed, I know. You will need to shift resources. This is more important than the circus that Shacklebolt is running." Viktor saw Cassius' mouth twitch into a smile at his words.
"I will need to talk to my boss. I'll be back as soon as I can."
For a while, the two men sat in silence, broken only by the little sounds that Leonhard made, blissfully ignorant of the danger they were in. "I'll prepare lunch." Cassius stood up after a while. It was already almost noon. Would you mind watching Leonhard for a while?" Viktor smiled. "Leo, my love, will you stay with Viktor while daddy prepares food?"
"Tor!" Viktor laughed and led the just-walking toddler to his play corner, holding both hands while he tried to balance himself on clumsy little legs. They were in the middle of a puzzle when Cassius emerged from the kitchen with a tray of sandwiches. Viktor helped himself to a ham and cheese sandwich that he didn't want to eat, and washed it down with a glass of water without really tasting it. Cassius was busy with Leonhard, who was spitting out more green purée than he managed to keep in.
"You need to talk to Blankley."
"You have told that to me before, but not why."
"I am not entirely sure, but… I believe that there was a subgroup within the Identitarians with not exactly pacifist ideologies. I think they had a falling out with Blankley already before I started writing for the Bulwark."
Viktor didn't like that. He hadn't seen any signs of radicalization during his undercover mission, except for some puerile attempts to "train witches and wizards against the influences of the muggle world", which did not amount to more than a few lectures on the brain-frying and sterility-causing effects of mobile phones, microwaves turning food toxic, and adverse health effects of wind turbines.
"I have no evidence. I met Blankley only occasionally, but he did blurt some things about how those that did not follow the path of true democracy have been eliminated from his movement. I am sorry, I didn't ask further." Viktor wrote down this last statement in his notebook. It was almost starting to make sense.
Shortly after lunch was over, the doorbell rang. Much to the surprise of both men, it was not an Auror with a grim face and grey uniform, but the ethereal figure of Fleur Delacour-Weasley that glided through the door. When she kissed Viktor on both cheeks and shook hands with Cassius, Viktor hadn't quite recovered from his shock.
"Viktor, Cassius, how wonderful to see you both. I wish our meeting would have been under more pleasant circumstances." As the mellifluous voice filled the air, Viktor saw Cassius relax considerably, and a smile spread across his face. Classic.
"Fleur, to what do we owe the pleasure?" he asked.
"Why, I am your new guardian angel, of course. I was appointed by Harry to escort you and Leo to the safe house of the Order, Shell Cottage, if you choose to come."
OK… this was unexpected. "What Order?" asked Viktor, already guessing the answer.
Fleur's laughter chimed in the air, clear as a glass bell. Even the baby Leonhard started to chirp mirthfully. "Why, the Order of the Phoenix, of course. Harry has informed me and Bill. Cassius and Leonhard can stay with us, and travel to Gringotts with me or Bill. Whoever stays at home will take care of Leonhard. The Shell Cottage is unplottable. Would that be agreeable to you, Cassius?"
The man in question was watching her talk, mesmerized. "Of course, of course! It is such a relief. Thank you."
"Fleur, can we talk for a second?" he led the witch to the kitchen. She was smiling mischievously, like Hermione did when she had a "fantastic" plan that was bound to cause him grief. He didn't like it.
"You don't like our plan, Viktor?" she asked alluringly. Devil woman.
"I asked Harry for guards. Proper Auror guards. Isn't the Order disbanded anyway?" He knew that they still met for Christmas, but wasn't aware that it was still "a thing".
"It is not really disbanded, no. It is more symbolic nowadays, but the safe house is still operational. We are always glad to offer refuge to those who need help. Since Cassius works at the same place as Bill and I, it is rather convenient as well."
Viktor almost grunted. He really, really didn't like the sound of this. The days of civilians fighting terrorists should have long been over. What was Harry thinking?
"You are aware that these people are dangerous, right? What about your children?"
"They are in their grandparents' estate for the summer. Look." Her face was dead serious. "I know you are concerned, but the two will be safe with us. It is also better for Cassius. Otherwise, he would have to take unpaid leave at short notice and become mad, sitting at home with the baby all day, paranoid that something might happen any moment. This way, he will have company and can still go to work. The man has been through so much, he deserves it."
Her words had merit, but Viktor was unconvinced. He knew what Fleur was capable of, that woman had looked a dragon in the eyes and sang it to sleep. There was however still the little problem of the curse-proof bundle. "Did Harry tell you that the terrorists may be immune to curses?" Viktor unbuttoned his jacket and showed her his gun to make a point.
Fleur, smiling mischievously once again, slowly rucked her summer skirt up, revealing a perfect, ivory leg. A small, silver pistol that Viktor didn't recognize was placed in a holster that was strapped around her thigh with a leather band. Viktor wondered how many men would come in their pants just at the sight of that.
"My grandpa was a firearms enthusiast."
Viktor rubbed his neck. It wasn't like he had many other options. "You are sure about this?"
Fleur nodded. "It will be fine, Viktor. We will take care of the two while you catch the bad guys." She gave his arm a reassuring squeeze.
A few moments later, while little Leonhard was squealed with glee in Fleur's arms, Viktor decided to have one last word with Cassius. The father looked a lot calmer, but Viktor sensed unease beneath the surface.
"Are you sure you are fine with the arrangements? If you wish, I could arrange you an ITF safehouse instead."
"No, no, it's perfectly fine." Cassius said, dismissively. "I just… I am not very eloquent today, am I?" He shook his head. "I still can't believe that Peggy was murdered by wizards. All I have done in the past six months… I thought I had something. Where does this leave me now?
He was really not one to dish out unasked for advice, but decided to make an exception for the suffering man.
"You believed in a cause, thought it was your calling. If you decide that this cause is not worth fighting for any more, there are more problems out there that could really use the helping hand of a lawyer. Krumov Foundation always welcomes social responsibility projects of competent people." With that, he took his leave and Apparated to the Ministry.
Much to Viktor's dismay, Harry wasn't in his office. In fact, most Auror offices were empty. They must be out patrolling, he thought. He asked the filing clerk what was going on, but received no useful reply. He then asked him for Blankley's address.
"Excuse me," the clerk replied. "I don't think I know you. I can not simply hand out personal information to outsiders."
"I am not an outsider, I just showed you my badge. I am working with Auror Potter on a case." Viktor had no patience for the man whose cranium would not receive information even if it were hammered into it.
"Hmm…" He scrutinized Viktor from head to toe. Viktor felt the urge to snatch his hat and throw it out of the window. "May I please see it again?" Viktor handed him the badge. "Let's see… International Task Force, Officer Viktor G. Krumov… Merlin! You are Viktor Krum!" The man almost jumped in his place. "It is such an honour to meet you, Sir!"
Seriously, thought Viktor, don't do this to me. Not now.
"That honour is mine. Now, the address, please?" Viktor curled his toes to remind himself to remain polite.
"Yes, yes, of course! One minute. Would you please sit down? Would you like a brew?" Viktor nodded. Shit. The annoying man had made him lapse into his Bulgarian ways. Before he could take his positive response back, a dainty china cup and saucer landed in his hands. The clerk had even already added milk to it. When he left the room, Viktor added the two sugar cubes to the cup, stirred, and then transfigured the murky milk tea into a milk tea cloud which he sent out of the window to go rain somewhere.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, here is the address you requested," he handed Viktor a small roll of parchment. "I have one small request, if you are so kind…" from the way the grown man blushed like a raspberry, Viktor already guessed what he would ask. He signed the photograph that was handed to him and disappeared from the room before he could see him grin from ear to ear.
When Viktor finally arrived home, he was drained. Wearing a suit all day while being physically active was uncomfortable. On top of that, Blankley was nowhere to be found. He couldn't wait to get rid of his clothes and have a long, relaxing sauna session with Hermione. He found her in the bedroom, trying to pack, while Pebbles jumped into the suitcase and wiggled under the clothes.
"Weird cat."
"She is not a weird cat, all cats do that. Crooks used to do it all the time." Hermione pulled him down for a kiss. "I haven't heard from you all day, is everything all right? Why didn't you wake me up in the morning? How did it go with Warrington? Did he talk to you? Did you see yesterday's Prophet?"
"Sshh, pochemuchka." He ceased the stream of questions with a kiss. Oh, but the silence was blissful. Eager to maintain it for longer, he pulled her closer and kissed her until the worries of the day vanished, and all he could think of was her soft lips, hot tongue, and little whimpers. When he finally pulled back, he licked his lips to savour the delectable aftertaste of the kiss. His girlfriend was one delicious witch.
"You were sleeping, and you are on holiday. Why should I wake you up?" He quickly undressed, tossed his sweaty shirt and underwear into the laundry basket, and hung his suit to be worn again the next day.
"I slept way too long, and we missed breakfast together." Hermione snaked her arms around his hips and cupped his buttocks, digging her small fingers lightly into his flesh. "If you hadn't shagged me into a coma yesterday, I would have my way with you right here and now. Your arse, Mr Krumov, is a wonder of nature."
Viktor glowed with happiness. When Hermione looked at him the way she did, he felt like he could take Svyatogor in a wrestling match. "I will warm up the sauna. Do you want to join me later?"
Hermione scrunched her nose. "Only if you don't whip me with the sticks."
He cackled. "But whipping you is half the fun." He wrapped himself in a grey kimono and made his way to the garden. "I'll come get you when I am done with building the fire."
Viktor loved his sauna routine. First, he built the fire in the wood fire stove without using magic. While the room and the stones came up to temperature, he cut some thin branches from his silver birch tree and bound them into a vihta. He then went back to the cottage to get some towels and his girlfriend. Hermione didn't like the intense heat so much, so they started at the bottom bench, sitting down rather than lying.
"I went through the case files you gave me. I think I found one that could be interesting."
"You know the rules, little witch."
"Sorry, sorry, no talking about work in the sauna." Ten minutes in, Viktor was already sweating profusely into the towel underneath him. Hermione, in contrast, just had a few beads of sweat on her brow where a few baby hairs that had escaped her bun clung to. Maybe she needed a little exercise. Viktor handed her the vihta, and she whipped his back, chest and legs with relish. Much to her protest, he returned the favour, whipping her lightly until her skin was flushed pink, and what a sight it was. They finished the first session under the cold outdoor shower, jumping and yelping from the shock of icy water on their hot skins, and drank some birch water before the next round. This time, they rubbed their bodies with coarse sea salt mixed with lemon oil before going in, and Viktor poured a few ladles of lemongrass-scented water over the hot stones (normally he would pour beer, but Hermione thought that this was a waste.) He relished the searing feeling of the water vapour on his skin, and the refreshing lemongrass scent that invaded his nostrils.
"Oh, this burns!" Hermione closed her eyes to keep the salt from getting into them. "But it burns so good. Much nicer than the twigs."
Viktor grunted in half-agreement and lay down on the towel. The sauna was a gift from the gods.
After washing thoroughly, Viktor and Hermione settled on the porch with cold beers and sausages cooked over the sauna stove, still clad in soft bathrobes. Viktor dipped the butterflied end of his sausage into sweet Finnish mustard. "Now, you may ask."
"No, I am eating." Hermione bit into her sausage-stuffed bun. "This is not exactly a balanced meal, but it is delicious."
"No," Viktor laughed, "But every once in a while, it is OK. Besides, it is a part of the sauna experience."
Hermione nodded eagerly. "You know, this is what I love about you. Most people I know would only take time to do something like this on the weekends. But not you."
"Life is too short to only live on the weekends, no?"
"Exactly. Also, when I am at Hogwarts, we always talk about work. Always. No coffee break, dinner time or even Friday evening drinks is safe. There is literally no opportunity to just kick back and take some distance from work. I love it that you have such clear boundaries between work and life. I want to be more like that."
"Well, it is not working so well nowadays."
"But it is! Even if it is just for a few hours, it is so necessary to just shut down." With that, they finished their meals in silence, listening to the occasional hammering of the woodpecker.
When later they settled on the sofa, Viktor told her all about his day.
"Poor Cassius, I truly feel for him. It is so generous of the Weasleys to host them, otherwise he would just go barmy locked up in a safe house with a baby."
"That's what Fleur said. How was your day?"
Hermione pointed at the case file on the table while blowing on her tea before taking a sip. "I looked through the files you left for me. I think this is the only one that might be relevant." It was not from the ITF, but the MLE office in Aarhus, Denmark.
"Translation charm?"
Hermione nodded. "It is not perfect, but enough for me to get the general picture. I thought we could go through it together. You can read Danish, right?"
"Reading is quite OK, but I can't speak it. It sounds very different to Swedish." The file was about the kidnapping of Amelia Jensen, 38, mother of one. It had taken place four months before the kidnapping of Peggy Warrington. The young mother had been kidnapped during an evening jog, no witnesses. She had been found in an alley in non-wizarding Aarhus a day later, memories crudely Obliviated to a degree that she had suffered severe nausea, headaches and fatigue. After the incident, she had had frequent crying spells and nightmares, and refused to be separated from her child, even for a short time. Fuck. With the wisdom of hindsight it was easy for Viktor to draw correlations between this case and the Warrington case, but directly after the incident, her sudden change in behaviour had puzzled everyone.
"Do you think the Obliviation can be reversed?" He knew that Hermione was not proud of her past achievements in memory magic, but she was a lot more proficient in these than he was.
"I am afraid not. Obliviation is different to memory modification in that it really fries brain cells. That is not reversible. Sometimes a very skilled Legilimens can extract leftover bits of information that the victim cannot perceive at a conscious level, but those are rare these days."
Viktor nodded. "And the rest of the files?"
"I didn't find anything else. The others have been solved already. Mostly ransom cases. But you can take a look again, if you want." Viktor quickly went through the rest of the files and agreed with Hermione.
"You know, if you really decide against going back to Hogwarts, you could work on an Obliviation reversal charm. It would make our job somewhat easier."
Hermione yawned and put her head on his shoulder. "I have been thinking about that for a while now. It is a terrible violation of a person's privacy, and very dangerous too. This is unfortunately a very complex problem and a prime example of how destroying something is way easier than constructing it. Bloody thermodynamics."
Viktor didn't ask further, he doubted that he would be able to follow even if she explained. "Have you finished packing?"
"Yes, I have, though I have to admit, I am not quite ready to be separated from you, even for a week. Can't you stay over at my parents' place? There is enough space."
Viktor considered for a moment. "I will try to come over for a few nights, but I can't promise. Will you stay in non-wizarding England?"
Hermione frowned. "Yes, I will. I don't feel like having my wand tracked, and I am afraid that I will be stuck there if the State of Emergency continues. Kingsley is surely strict these days."
Viktor nodded. "It is probably for the best. I'll Apparate you to Newcastle when we arrive."
"Thank you, Viktor." She kissed his cheek. "And tomorrow, I get to visit your workplace! So exciting!"
"You have been there before." Viktor petted her head. She was just so lovely when she was excited.
"But only for lunch and drinks and stuff. I've never been to your office."
Viktor embraced her, feeling a throb of pain as he realized that this would be the last time for some days that they would fall asleep in each other's arms. Being separated never got easier. "Let's go to bed. It will be a tiring day for both of us."
"Yeah…" Hermione mused. "I have to tell my parents that I quit my job. My mum will ask a million questions. What is on your plate?"
"Draco Malfoy."
Vihta is a small broom made of birch twigs that people around the Baltic (Russia, Finland, Estonia) use in the sauna to whip themselves (or each other). It sounds odd, but it feels great and increases circulation.