Moody Slavic
Man
By Elanor Gamgee
Part 3: Waiting for Her
Viktor looked up at the sound of the library door
opening. A tall, dark-haired girl
entered, followed closely by a shorter, blond boy. Viktor scowled to himself as the two walked past his table, deep
in conversation. He'd promised himself
that he wouldn't look up every time the door opened; after all, he was only in
the library to study. If he happened to
run into her—Viktor frowned and bent over his Ancient Runes textbook again.
It had been four days since Viktor had finally gotten up
the nerve to ask her to the ball, and she hadn't been in the library
since. At least, not while he had been
there. Was she avoiding him? Most likely, he thought sourly. He had seen her in the Great Hall at
mealtimes, and she had seemed...tense.
He had managed to catch her eye just the evening before at dinner, but
she had only given him a nervous smile and turned away. Viktor could still feel the way his stomach
had dropped.
But she had said that she would think about it.
This thought was not very comforting, as Viktor now
harbored little hope that she would say yes.
In fact, he was beginning to doubt that she would say anything at
all. Perhaps her silence was her
answer.
He wished he could know for sure, either way. This interminable waiting was worse than
rejection. He knew he should just give up
on her and ask someone else...but he could think of no one else with whom he
would want to attend the ball. And
besides, he couldn't seem to help looking for her whenever he entered the Great
Hall, or to stop himself from spending his free time in the library, hoping to
meet her there.
The library doors opened again, and Viktor mentally
cursed himself as his head snapped up.
He let out a groan when he saw who had entered; Pashnik was bounding
over to his table in his usual enthusiastic manner.
"I thought you might be skulking in here
again," said Pashnik, far too loudly.
Madam Pince, the irritable librarian, shot him a reproving look from
behind her large oak desk. Pashnik
didn't seem to notice. "Karkaroff wants
to see you," he continued.
Viktor was about to ask why Karkaroff wanted him when the
sound of the door opening made him turn his head again. Five girls entered the library—Viktor
recognized them right away as five of the gigglers. One of them, a blonde, saw him looking in their direction and
immediately tried to catch his eye.
Viktor quickly dropped his gaze to the book in front of him.
"Let's go then," he said curtly to Pashnik, gathering up
his books and standing. He led the way
out of the library, not really caring whether Pashnik was following or
not. He ignored the girls still
standing by the door, though he could feel their eyes on him.
Viktor moved so quickly that he was nearly in the
Entrance Hall by the time Pashnik caught up with him. The shorter boy made an enormous show of pretending to be winded,
resting his hands on his knees and panting. "What was that—"
"Excuse me," said a voice behind them.
Viktor swiveled around.
The blonde girl from the library had followed them. She gave Pashnik a disdainful look, then
turned to Viktor. "Can I talk to you
for a moment?" she said coolly.
Viktor could hear the grin in Pashnik's voice as he said,
"I'll wait outside for you, Viktor."
And he heard Pashnik move across the hall and out through the doors,
leaving the Entrance Hall completely deserted except for Viktor and the
girl. Viktor stared at her. She had a scarf with the Bulgarian colors
tied around the waist of her black robes.
He wondered if she realized how ridiculous it looked.
She shook her short blonde curls back from her face and
smiled up at him cheekily. "I was
wondering if I could go to the ball with you," she said with a giggle.
Viktor continued to stare at her. She didn't seem embarrassed, or even
nervous. In fact, she didn't even seem
to care how he answered. It was almost
as if she was asking him on a dare—which, he realized suddenly, she probably
was. It was as if she wasn't even a
person.
Or as if she didn't think that he was a person.
Viktor felt a sudden wave of nausea. The girl was still looking up at him,
waiting for him to respond, an idiotic grin on her face.
Viktor turned toward the door. "No. I do not think so,"
he muttered, still feeling slightly sick.
He escaped through the front doors, not looking back.
Pashnik was lounging against the wall outside. He grinned when he saw Viktor. "Another one asked you to the ball?" he
chuckled. "What is that—three, or four,
now?"
Actually, it was six, but Viktor was not about to tell
that to Pashnik. He merely grunted in
response and descended the stone steps in front of the castle. Pashnik followed, and fell into step beside
him.
"I am going to find a spell to conjure some flowers for
Edina on the night of the ball," said Pashnik.
"Do you think she will like that?"
Viktor grunted again.
To no one's surprise, Edina had agreed to go the ball with Pashnik, and
he had been talking about his plans for the evening nonstop ever since.
Pashnik was eyeing him now, an amused look on his
face. "I thought you would know, since
you are such a ladies' man," he said.
"Have you said yes to any of your lovely admirers?"
Viktor merely gave him a warning look and kept walking.
"Well, why not?" said Pashnik. "You need a partner for the ball, and…unless you've asked someone
already?" Pashnik stopped and looked at
him. Viktor didn't say anything.
"You have," Pashnik crowed, punching him on the
arm. "Viktor Krum, you old dog! How could you do something like this without
telling me?" He pretended to wipe his
eyes and put on a high, teary voice. "Our little Viktor is growing up…"
Viktor shot him a disgusted look and kept walking. Pashnik hurried to catch up. "So," he said, "who is she?"
"What does Karkaroff want?" said Viktor loudly, ignoring
Pashnik's question.
Pashnik frowned, but answered, "How would I know? I am only the messenger." He then proceeded to regale Viktor with an
imitation of Karkaroff's imperious manner, but Viktor wasn't listening.
He was thinking about what Pashnik had said. Maybe he should have said yes to one of the
girls who had asked him to the ball.
Was he stupid to wait for…her?
What if she never responded at all?
What would he do then? Maybe he
should have accepted the blonde girl's invitation just now. Then he thought of the way she had acted,
and the sick feeling swooped through his stomach again. He knew he would rather attend the ball
alone than with someone who looked at him like that.
He thought of her and imagined the disgusted look
on her face if she could have seen the way the blonde girl had acted. He smiled briefly to himself. Then he wondered…did she look at him the way
he looked at the blonde-haired girl?
After all, he was a stranger to her, too. And she hadn't given him any indication that she might say yes.
But she hadn't said no, either. Yet.
They had reached the ship now, and Viktor led the way up
the gangplank, Pashnik still chattering away behind him. When they reached the corridor leading to
the cabins, however, they stopped short.
Water up to their ankles covered the deck.
"Not again," groaned Pashnik.
Viktor stared at the door to his cabin, which was
ajar. He sloshed down the hallway,
holding his robes up out of the water.
Reaching the door, he cautiously eased it open.
The water had seeped into his cabin as well, easily
flowing over the raised threshold. The
bottom of the bedspread was soaking wet, and several pieces of parchment were
floating around in a sodden mess, along with a few books and quills.
The cause of the mess became evident when Viktor raised
his eyes and saw Belenko, Poliakoff's wayward Puffskein, swaying happily on the
bedside table next to Viktor's golden egg.
It emitted a low hum when it saw Viktor, and rolled right over, knocking
the egg off the table.
"No!" Viktor cried.
He dropped his books, darted forward and caught the egg before it could
hit the water. He could only imagine
what might happen to it if it got wet.
Pashnik applauded in the doorway behind him. "Nice catch!" he said.
Viktor placed the egg gently on his bed, and then pulled out his wand. "Assiccare,"
he muttered, waving his wand over the floor. The water disappeared instantly,
leaving the books, parchment, and quills strewn about on the floor.
Viktor picked up the Puffskein, which hummed steadily in his hand. "Take this,"
he said, tossing it to Pashnik. The Puffskein hummed louder as it soared through
the air and landed in Pashnik's outstretched hands. "Tell Poliakoff to keep his pet
in his own cabin."
Pashnik threw him a mock-salute and headed down the corridor. Viktor could hear
him casting Drought Charms every few feet.
Viktor looked around his messy cabin. He would have to deal with this later—he
had to go see Karkaroff now. Sure that Karkaroff wanted to check on his progress
with the egg, Viktor picked it up and made his way out into the corridor.
Karkaroff's cabin was at the opposite end of the ship. It was, of course, the largest,
and had the best view, situated as it was near the prow. The students' cabins were
much smaller by comparison, and all except Viktor had to share.
Viktor had only had occasion to visit Karkaroff's cabin once before: when Karkaroff
had summoned him to tell him about the dragons he would be facing in the first task.
Viktor hadn't bothered to ask how Karkaroff had found out what the task was.
He had been fairly certain he didn't want to know.
Viktor knocked on the door.
"Enter," said the gruff voice from the other side.
Viktor pushed open the door, carefully balancing the egg in his other hand. Karkaroff,
who had been seated at his ridiculously ornate desk in the corner, rose to greet him.
"Viktor!" he cried unctuously. "Do come in! Have a seat." He indicated a
dragonhide-covered armchair. Viktor carefully deposited the egg on a table and
sat down.
"You wanted to see me, Headmaster?" said Viktor, with as much respect as he
could muster. He had never liked Karkaroff, but he always tried to be polite.
Karkaroff laughed pretentiously and seated himself at the desk again, smoothing
his fur-trimmed robes as he did so. "Of course, Viktor, of course," he said warmly,
but Viktor could detect a note of something else in his tone. "I wanted to see how
you are doing."
"I have not worked out the egg's clue yet," Viktor replied dully, staring down at the
red velvet bed covering to avoid seeing Karkaroff's yellowed teeth grinning at him.
Karkaroff's teeth always made him think of the Graphorns he had seen once, in an
exhibition of dangerous beasts that he had attended with his father.
Karkaroff seemed unconcerned. "There is time," he said. "There is time."
Viktor looked up at him in surprise. Hadn't that been what Karkaroff had wanted
to see him about?
But Karkaroff was leaning forward in his chair now, twirling his goatee around one
finger and giving Viktor an appraising look. "The ball is approaching," he said simply.
Viktor nodded, unsure whether or not he was expected to respond to this statement.
"The champions will be expected to lead off the dancing," Karkaroff continued, still
twirling his goatee.
Viktor nodded again. He saw irritation flicker in Karkaroff's eyes, but the older man
covered it with an insincere laugh.
"Do you have a partner?" Karkaroff asked.
Did he? Viktor
wasn't sure. But he knew that this
wasn't the answer Karkaroff wanted to hear.
So he nodded and said, "I have asked a girl from Hogwarts."
Viktor couldn't tell whether this news pleased Karkaroff,
or made him angry. The look on his face
was difficult to read. Viktor wondered
how Karkaroff would react if he told him which girl from Hogwarts it was. He decided not to test his luck.
"I met her in the…dining hall," said Viktor
steadily. It wasn't a lie. The first time he had seen her had been
there, in the Great Hall, on the first night he had arrived. He and the other students had been following
Karkaroff out of the hall, when Karkaroff had stopped dead, staring at Harry
Potter. She had been right behind
Potter, with the red-haired boy. Of
course, he hadn't really seen her then as anything but Potter's friend. But now…
"Ah—good," Karkaroff was saying, a note of relief in his
voice. Viktor could almost guess what
Karkaroff was thinking as he relaxed into his chair. He thinks that the girl must be in Slytherin, if I met her at
a meal. A Slytherin girl would be
acceptable in Karkaroff's eyes, because, as Draco Malfoy liked to remind people
at every meal, Slytherins were purebloods.
"Well," Karkaroff went on, "I wanted to tell you that we
will be having a small reception by the ship before the ball, so that I can
meet my students' partners." He flashed Viktor another yellow-toothed smile,
and Viktor bit back a flash of anger. Pass
judgment on them, you mean, he thought.
"The reception will begin forty minutes before the ball. You will be there?"
Despite the interrogative tone, Viktor knew that it was
not a question. He nodded mutely.
"Good, good," said Karkaroff, clapping his hands together
and rising. "And now I will let you go
back to working on that egg."
Viktor rose, scooped the egg off the table, and
departed. As he made his way back to
his cabin, he wondered if he should have told Karkaroff the truth about whom he
had asked to the ball. But a small
voice inside his head told him that he had done the right thing. After all, this way, Karkaroff couldn't
force him to ask someone else. He only
hoped that she wouldn't be too uncomfortable attending the ball with him under
Karkaroff's eyes.
Of course, he thought grimly, throwing
the egg down onto his bed again, this all assumes that she will agree to go
to the ball with me in the first place. How could any girl possibly be worth all this?
But she was. Viktor looked up through the porthole toward
the castle. He didn't know why, but he
knew that she was worth it.
********************************
The next day, Viktor left lunch early to look up
housekeeping charms in the library. The
girl had been sitting with her back to him today, so he'd decided he might as
well get started on cleaning up the mess Belenko had made. The house-elves had done a good job of
cleaning up the books and parchment on the floor, but a pervasive smell of
mildew still hung over his cabin.
Indeed, Viktor thought that the entire ship could do with a good
Mold-Removing Charm, and maybe even an Air-Freshener Spell, if he could find
it. Though all the Durmstrang students
had become very good at Drought Charms recently, the many floodings had still
left their mark.
Viktor settled in at his usual table and began leafing
through Charm Your House Clean.
He was just about to take out his quill and jot down a useful Bed-Making
Spell when a shadow fell over him.
"May I sit here?" said a soft voice.
Viktor looked up quickly. It was the girl. He
hadn't even heard the door open, but there she was, standing over him with a
calm smile, waiting for him to give her permission to sit down.
"Of course," he said, sure that she must be able to hear
his heart pounding.
She pulled out the chair and sat down facing him, her
hands folded on the table in front of her.
She smiled, and Viktor thought once again how beautiful she was when she
did this. "I would be honored to go to the ball with
you," she said, "if you would still like to take me."
Viktor felt himself smiling
broadly back at her. He couldn't seem
to help it. His heart was still
pounding, but now it was with relief and happiness, instead of nerves. "I would," was all he said.
She was still smiling at him,
and only when she turned pink and looked down did Viktor realize he had been
staring. He cast around for something
to say.
"There will be a reception,"
he blurted out. She looked up at him,
puzzled. "Before the ball," he
explained, "for the Durmstrang students and our…partners. Do you mind attending?"
"Oh!" she said. "No, I don't mind."
"Good," said Viktor. An awkward silence settled over them again.
"Er…what are you studying?"
she asked brightly, gesturing at the book in Viktor's hand.
Viktor looked down at the book
in surprise; he had forgotten it was there.
"Oh…this is not to study. This
is for the ship…it is a long story," he said apologetically.
She looked slightly
disappointed, but she pressed on. "So what is your favorite subject then?"
Viktor looked at her
carefully. She seemed genuinely
interested in the answer. This wasn't
like the many times he had been asked such questions by reporters or fans. She truly wanted to know what he thought.
"Transfiguration, I
think. It is the most challenging. I have been studying some Advanced
Transfiguration with your Professor McGonagall…" Here he saw her mouth twitch,
and he wondered if he was pronouncing the professor's name correctly. She didn't say anything, however, so he
continued. "I have been learning much
here. She is a much better teacher than
the one we have at Durmstrang."
She drew herself up proudly at
these words. "Professor McGonagall is an
excellent teacher," she said, pronouncing the name slowly and clearly, but not
drawing attention to his blunder. She
was tactful; Viktor liked that. "I love
Transfiguration as well," she continued.
"What sorts of things are you studying?"
So Viktor told her about the
large-object transformations he had been doing, and how he had just started on
human transfiguration. She made a
jealous sound when he mentioned the latter, and said, "Oh! I can't wait to get to that!" She seemed truly interested in hearing about
what he had learned, and listened avidly as he described a recent lesson where
a classmate had spent three-quarters of an hour with rabbit ears before he'd
realized what had gone wrong.
"Have you managed any human
transfiguration?" she asked eagerly.
Viktor paused, looking down at
the table. None of his attempts so far
had been very successful. "I have been
having some trouble with it," he said, slightly embarrassed. "I am still working on it."
"Oh," she said.
There was another awkward pause.
"So that's why you've been spending so much time in the library."
Viktor looked
up at her, wondering if the truth would frighten her away. But he wanted her to know the truth. He wasn't sure why. Something about her made him want to be
honest.
"Yes,"
he said, feeling brave and reckless,
"but I also was wanting to talk to you. I was coming here every
day, but…I did not have the courage to approach you."
She stared at
him, an odd, almost suspicious expression on her face. The air around them seemed to have become
more serious, more charged, somehow.
Finally she smiled nervously and looked
down. "Well…I'm glad you
did," she said.
They sat there for a moment in silence,
Viktor watching the top of her head bent over the table, one long curl falling
down in front of her face. She was
tracing little figure eights on the tabletop with one finger. He wanted very much to reach out and push
that stray curl behind her ear. But
he didn't. He wasn't sure what stopped
him.
Finally, she looked up at the clock over
the door. "I have to go to Arithmancy,"
she said with an uncertain smile.
"I'll…talk to you later?"
Viktor smiled back at her. "I will be here," he said.
She stood up, swinging her heavy bag over
her shoulder. As she moved away toward
the door, Viktor spoke again.
"And—" he began. She stopped and turned around to look at
him. "Thank you," he finished, looking
into her brown eyes.
Her forehead wrinkled in puzzlement for a
moment, but she gave him a half-smile.
"Thank you," she said.
And she turned and left the library.