MSM 5

Author's Note: None of this belongs to me. This story is based on Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling and will feature "offstage scenes" as well as scenes from the book reinterpreted from Viktor's point of view. (This is a companion piece to "Hermione's Fourth Year".)

Thanks to Jedi Boadicea, B. Bennett, and Zsenya for betareading.  Special thanks to Jedi Boadicea and B. Bennett for sharing horrible potion ideas (yes, B., you can be nasty when you want to, I will concede that), and to Zsenya and Arabella for letting Viktor borrow their Recording Charm.

Moody Slavic Man

By Elanor Gamgee

Part 5: Apart From Her

Viktor allowed himself the rare pleasure of sleeping in the day after the ball.  He knew he should be taking advantage of the quiet to get in some uninterrupted practice, but found that he wanted nothing more than to continue his half-formed dreams and memories of the night before. 

However, an insistent knocking on his cabin door told him that it was not meant to be.  Viktor groaned.

"What is it?" he called irritably, expecting to hear one of Pashnik's annoyingly cheerful greetings in return.

Instead, Dorek Landau's voice answered him, sounding smug.  "The Headmaster wishes to see you in his cabin immediately," he said.

Viktor frowned at Landau's tone; he sounded far too pleased.  Viktor had never liked the boy, though he knew very little about him.  All he really needed to know was how much Landau enjoyed Karkaroff's Dark Arts lessons.

Of course, Viktor didn't need to ask what Karkaroff wanted to see him about.  He had been expecting this.  Now he wondered vaguely what he should say.  He had known there would be consequences to taking her to the ball, but he had been so concerned with the event itself that he hadn't spared a thought for how he would handle the aftermath.  He gritted his teeth and swung himself out of bed.

"I am coming," he said curtly.

But Landau's voice came back at him through the door, more satisfied than ever.  "I am supposed to escort you to his cabin personally," he said, and Viktor could almost see the smug smile playing around his lips.  Viktor didn't respond, but took his time pulling on his robes and finding his shoes.

He was somewhat pleased to hear the plaintive note in Landau's voice a few minutes later.  "Well, are you coming?"

Viktor pulled open the door abruptly and looked down at Landau, who was easily several inches shorter than he was.  The other boy quickly covered his surprised look with a sneer.  "Come along," he said, turning away from Viktor and leading the way down the corridor.  Viktor followed.

When they reached Karkaroff's cabin, Landau knocked smartly and called out, "I've got him, Headmaster."  Viktor suddenly felt like some sort of prisoner, and he wondered exactly how bad this was going to be.  He wasn't afraid of Karkaroff—it was difficult to be afraid of someone who was always acting so obsequiously towards you—but he suddenly recalled the rumors he had heard about Karkaroff's past, and wondered if he might have underestimated the man.

Karkaroff appeared in the doorway as the door was jerked open.   He glared at Viktor.  "Excellent," he said darkly, "You may go, Landau."

Landau looked slightly disappointed as he turned and went back down the corridor.  Karkaroff stood aside so that Viktor could enter the cabin.  In contrast to his previous visits, Karkaroff did not ask him to sit down.  So Viktor stood there awkwardly while Karkaroff made himself comfortable in the dragonhide-leather armchair.

"Did you enjoy yourself at the Yule Ball, Viktor?" Karkaroff finally said, his voice carrying the slightest hint of a threat.  Viktor nodded.

Karkaroff eyed him closely.  "You do know what that girl is, do you not?" he said disdainfully.  Viktor said nothing, trying to ignore the sickening flash of anger in his stomach. 

Karkaroff stood abruptly and walked toward Viktor.  "Viktor, Viktor," he said, the familiar unctuous note back in his voice now; he appeared to be trying a new tack.    "You are in a unique position.  You must be very careful about the people with whom you associate. The reputation and honor of Durmstrang Institute is in your hands."  Karkaroff was circling Viktor as he spoke, and Viktor felt for all the world like a mouse being eyed by a snake.  "Now, I understand that a young man sometimes needs...entertainment, and there is nothing wrong with a bit of fun with a girl like that..." Karkaroff looked at him expectantly, but Viktor remained silent.  He didn't trust himself to speak.  It was taking every bit of his strength and self-control not to punch Karkaroff where he stood.

Karkaroff resumed his circling.  "And I understand that the girl is a also a close friend of Harry Potter..." Suddenly he stopped and peered into Viktor face.  "Keeping tabs on the competition, is that it?"

Viktor's mind raced.  It wasn't true, of course, and he would never use her like that.  But if he allowed Karkaroff to think this, then maybe the Headmaster would leave him alone.  And more importantly, maybe he wouldn't give her those disquieting glares whenever he saw them together. 

Karkaroff was still peering into his face.  Making his decision, Viktor met his gaze and raised his eyebrows slightly.  Karkaroff apparently interpreted this gesture the way Viktor had hoped he would, as his face broke into a devious smile.  He clapped Viktor on the back.  "Ah, Viktor!" he cried, suddenly jovial again.  "I knew there would be a reasonable explanation.  Brilliant tactic."

Viktor turned his head, unable to look at those yellowed teeth bared in a smile any longer.  It felt as though a lead weight had dropped into his stomach at the mere thought of using her to gain information for the Tournament. 

Karkaroff cleared his throat pretentiously, drawing Viktor's attention back to him.  "As long as that is all there is to this..." he said warningly, his cold eyes boring into Viktor's.  He paused for a long moment, and then said, "I trust we understand one another."

Viktor nodded.  I understand, he thought.  I understand perfectly.

**********

He didn't have a chance to talk with her during the next week, though he spent nearly every afternoon of the holidays in the library, hoping to meet her there.  At first, he wondered if he had done something wrong, but when she continued to smile at him whenever their eyes met in the Great Hall at mealtimes, he told himself that he was being silly; after all, it was the holidays, and she was probably just taking a break from her work.  He knew that he would see her again when term started.  So, on the day that classes resumed, he went straight to the library after dinner.

He was rewarded an hour later by the sight of a familiar mass of brown curls emerging from behind a row of bookshelves, barely visible over a stack of large, dusty books.  Viktor smiled in relief, surprising even himself at how glad he was to see her.  He waved her over to his table by the windows, and she smiled back before dumping her pile of books and sitting down breathlessly.

"Hello, Viktor," she said. "How are you?"

He looked up at her.  Wonderful, now, he thought, but all he said was, "I am fine, Hermione.  It is good to see you again."  Her smile faltered the tiniest bit as he said her name, and he knew he was still mispronouncing it.  But she was still smiling at him—this made it difficult to care about anything else.

She glanced out the window.  "Are you staying warm?" she asked.  "I suppose it's freezing on that ship."

Viktor was pleased to hear the concern in her tone—concern for him.  "I am accustomed to the cold," he reassured her.  "It is much colder in Bulgaria."  He wondered fleetingly if she would enjoy the crisp mountain air of his homeland as much as he did.  "And Durmstrang Castle is always cold.  We only light the fires when we need them for magic."

He saw her frown and shiver slightly.  He wanted to move around to the other side of the table and put his arm around her, to keep her warm, but he didn't dare.  He still wasn't sure how she would react to something like that. 

So he went on, "I think I would like to have gone to Hogwarts instead. It is much nicer here."  He peered anxiously at her, wondering if she understood exactly what he meant by this.  It was difficult to tell, as she chose that moment to look down at the table.  Viktor let out a frustrated breath.

After a moment, she asked, in an almost timid voice,  "What...what don't you like about Durmstrang?"

Viktor stared at her for a moment, thrown by another of her unexpected questions.  No one, not even his parents, had ever bothered to ask whether he even liked Durmstrang, let alone his reasons for feeling one way or the other.  But here she was, looking up at him again, with that look of polite curiosity.

"Well," he began cautiously, "I am sure you have read about the classes..."

She nodded eagerly.  "Yes, I read in An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe that Durmstrang actually teaches the Dark Arts, not just Defense like we have here.  Is that true?"

Viktor nodded, and her eyes went wide.  He went on to describe his first lesson at the school, where a Suffocating Potion had left him gasping for breath while the other students had merely watched.  Of course, that had been back before he had been chosen to train for the Vultures, before Karkaroff had begun to single him out for special treatment.

"And how does he treat you now?" she asked curiously.  Viktor was sorry he had mentioned Karkaroff's name; he knew that she hadn't been blind to the looks Karkaroff had given them at the Yule Ball, and he was not about to tell her any of the things that Karkaroff had said to him on Boxing Day.  Indeed, the memory of that conversation still made his blood boil. So he mumbled something about the other students resenting him and hurried to describe the dank, dark Durmstrang Castle to her, complete with graphic descriptions of the restless spirits that made Peeves the Poltergeist look as friendly as a Niffler.

"Oh!" she said suddenly, looking at her wristwatch.  "The library closes in a few minutes, and I haven't done any research on giants at all!"

"Giants?" Viktor asked, intrigued.  He realized that he had been dominating the conversation, and hoped fervently that she wouldn't think he always complained so much.

"Oh, yes," she said, distractedly brushing her hair out of her eyes.  "Didn't you see the article in the Daily Prophet about Hagrid?"  Viktor shook his head, and she went on, her tone growing increasingly indignant.  "Well, that Rita Skeeter woman has printed another pack of lies, and this time it's about my friend Hagrid.  She says he's half-Giant, and that he's a bloodthirsty murderer, and that Professor Dumbledore should sack him straightaway.  And Hagrid is completely upset, and he's hiding in his cabin, and he won't even talk to me or Ron or Harry.  It's ridiculous, really.  But I wanted to do some research and see if I might find something to help him--"

"Is he really half-Giant?" Viktor asked, startled.  He had seen the enormous gamekeeper on the grounds, but hadn't really thought about him much.

"Yes," she replied offhandedly, "but you can't blame him for not exactly advertising the fact, considering what's happened, can you?"

Viktor didn't reply.  Karkaroff's words came back to him, "You do know what that girl is, do you not?"  Defending half-Giants?  Maybe Karkaroff had been right after all...

He knew this thought was wrong the moment it entered his mind.  But still, he couldn't help worrying about her.  She had spoken quite affectionately about this Hagrid person, and he knew she considered him to be a good friend.  But did she really have any idea what he was capable of?

This thought stayed with him as he carried her books up to the librarian's desk for her.  And then he realized that he had a perfect opportunity before him.  It was a beautiful clear night, and the library was deserted.  He would ask her to go with him for a walk around the lake.  Yes, that sounded very romantic.  And perhaps, if they were alone together, just perhaps, he could kiss her. 

She, however, seemed to have other plans.  Once they were out in the corridor, she turned to him and said, "Thanks Viktor.  I'll take them now—I have to go up to bed."

He was certain that his disappointment showed on his face, but he didn't know how to salvage the moment.  "Well, good night, Hermione," he said, not even caring, this time, whether he pronounced it correctly or not.

"Goodnight, Viktor.  See you later, then," she said, turning and walking away from him down the dimly lit corridor.  Viktor very much wanted to kick something, preferably himself.

**********

"Viktor," she whispered, leaning in close across the library table.  "Can I ask you something?"

"Yes," he said, staring into her eyes.  "Anything you like."

"Will you dance with me?"

Viktor stared at her, now in surprise, as she stood.  She was wearing the blue robes she had worn to the Yule Ball, and he wondered why he hadn't noticed this before.  She held out her arms to him.  He stood as well, and saw her two friends sitting at a table nearby.  They were both flipping through large, heavy books and taking notes.

"Ignore them," she whispered in his ear.  "Let's dance."

He turned and put his arms around her, and she moved into his embrace.  Soft music was coming from somewhere, and they swayed in time to it.  He reached up and ran his fingers through her hair, which was falling down around her shoulders.  She looked up at him and smiled, and her eyes were soft.  He bent down, closing the space between them—

Viktor's dream ended abruptly as he felt something cold and slimy in his nose.  He sat up quickly and swatted away whatever it was.  It took a few minutes for his eyes to adjust; it was still early, and there was only the barest hint of light coming in through the portholes.  Finally he made out Belenko at the foot of his bed.  The foul creature must have had its tongue up his nose again.  Viktor rubbed at his nose furiously.  Disgusting, he thought. 

The Puffskein let out a satisfied hum and rolled right over onto the floor, setting a straight course for the open door.  The thing must be able to open doors now too, thought Viktor.  Groaning, he stood up to close the door, and heard the telltale sound of running water in the distance.  It sounded like they were in for another flood.  Why can't Poliakoff keep that thing under control? he thought angrily as he grabbed his wand and pulled on his maroon dressing gown. 

A thin layer of water already covered the corridor.  Viktor cast a few well-placed Drought Charms and moved toward the bathroom, following the still-humming Puffskein.  By the time Viktor reached the bathroom, Belenko had somehow managed to perch atop the bathtub taps.  The claw-footed tub was rapidly overflowing, sending water coursing down the sides and into the corridor.  Belenko continued to hum happily, seemingly enjoying all the havoc she was causing.  Viktor reached over to turn off the taps, then tried to grab the Puffskein, but Belenko rolled over and into the water, emitting a delighted squeak.  Viktor sighed and knelt to plunge his hand in to grab the creature, but was arrested by the sound now coming from the water.  It sounded like Belenko was still squeaking and humming under the surface, but the sound was refracted and strange.  It reminded Viktor of something, but he couldn't place exactly what it was.  Belenko suddenly bobbed to the surface and shook her fur.    Viktor wiped his face absently and stared at the rippling surface of the water.  That sound had been so familiar...it was almost like...wailing...

And then Viktor was on his feet, absently grabbing the sopping Puffskein in one hand.  He raced back down the corridor to his room and picked up the Golden Egg. Maybe, if Belenko sounded different under water, then the egg would sound different there too.  Viktor sank to his knees next to the tub and carefully lowered the egg inside.  The sleeves of his robe were getting soaked, but he didn't care.  Holding his breath, he carefully undid the clasp on the side of the egg. 

All that came to Viktor's ears was a gurgling sort of music--it rather sounded like Pashnik gargling in the mornings.  Viktor sat back on his heels and stared at the water.  He had been so certain that he was onto something.  But the noise coming from the egg was still completely unintelligible.  Viktor glanced at the still-sodden Puffskein on the floor next to him.  Unless...

Viktor leaned forward again and turned his head so that only his left ear was submerged in the water.  After a moment or two, he was able to make out the words being sung by a chorus of distant voices:

"Come seek us where our voices sound,

We cannot sing above the ground,

And while you're searching, ponder this:

We've taken what you'll sorely miss,

An hour long you'll have to look,

And to recover what we took,

But past an hour--the prospect's black

Too late, it's gone, it won't come back."

Viktor sat up again, startled.  He had done it.  He had found the egg's secret.  But what did it mean?

Viktor pulled out his wand and cast a Recording Charm on it.  Then he stuck it under the water and put his ear to the surface again.    After a few minutes, he removed his wand from the water and played back the song to make sure it had recorded properly.    Now he could listen to it over and over without getting wet. 

Viktor gathered up the egg and absently cast a few Drought Charms over the bathroom.    He could pull out his book of Housekeeping Charms and really clean up later.  Now, he had work to do. 

Merpeople.  Why hadn't he thought of them?  He knew full well that their voices sounded screechy and that there was probably a whole community of them right here in the lake.  He returned to his cabin and dumped the egg on his desk, then sprawled on his bed to listen to the song again.  "An hour long"...he'd have an hour to find...whatever it was they would take.  He couldn't imagine what that would be..."what you'll sorely miss".  He would have to worry about that part later. 

An hour underwater.  Yes, that was the thing to focus on.  How could he spend an hour underwater without drowning?  Viktor was a strong swimmer, but there was no way he could manage that.  He supposed he could always use something simple, like the Bubble-Head Charm his mother and father had used when they had gone to explore the Great Barrier Reef last year.  He knew he could do that easily, but that seemed too simple.  He wanted to do…something more. 

He suddenly remembered the excitement in her eyes when he had told her about his Advanced Transfiguration.  What if he turned himself into an animal that could go underwater?  Not a fish—too small and not nearly impressive enough.  A turtle?  No.  A frog?  Viktor grimaced at the mental image of himself hopping into the lake.  No, that wouldn't do at all.  He needed something impressive and grand, something that would make her look up at him with those clear brown eyes.  He closed his eyes and remembered her words about the World Cup: "You really did fly well.  It was very brave of you, catching the Snitch after your nose had been broken and all…"

He opened his eyes as the answer came to him.  A shark.  That would get her attention. 

Viktor's heart sank a little as he remembered his past unsuccessful attempts at human transfiguration.  So far, the only thing he had managed was a raccoon, but that would hardly help him in the lake.   But he could do this.  For her, he would do this.

**********

The next few days passed rapidly, as Viktor spent every spare minute in the library, looking up anything that might help him transfigure himself into a shark for the second task.  As his mother had promised, she and his father Apparated up to Hogsmeade on January 6, and Karkaroff gave Viktor special permission to meet them in the village for lunch. 

Anna and Nikolas Krum were already seated at a table in the Three Broomsticks when Viktor walked in.  As it was a weekday afternoon, the pub was not at all crowded.  However, there were more than enough people for Viktor's taste.  No sooner had he entered than he was set upon by two middle-aged witches begging him to sign their napkins.  He would have liked to refuse, but, feeling his mother's eyes on him, he quickly scrawled his signature on the proffered bits of cloth and moved toward his parents' table. 

His mother met him halfway and enveloped him in a tight hug.  "Viktor!  It is so good to see you!" she said in Bulgarian.

"Hello, Mother," Viktor said, hugging her back.  He nodded at his father over her shoulder.

He sat down, and his parents filled him in on the activities of all his relatives over lunch. 

Finally his mother gave him a knowing smile.  "So," she said, "did you enjoy the ball?"

Viktor flushed.  He had known that she would ask about that.  "Yes," he said quickly, looking down at his food.

"And the young lady..." she prompted.  "Did you bring us a picture?"

"No, Mother," Viktor said to his plate.

"Anna," said his father, "Leave the boy alone."

His mother gave his father a playful look.  "Now, Nikolas, I merely want to hear about what our son has been doing. And I want to know if this girl is good enough for our Viktor."  She turned back to Viktor.  "You could invite her to visit this summer.  I would like to meet her." 

Viktor stared at his mother.  He hadn't thought of that.  But, despite his embarrassment at talking about this with his mother, he really did want his parents to meet her.  And if she came to Bulgaria, maybe he would have a chance to show her all the things that he could give her, if she would let him. 

"I will ask her if she would like to come," he said quietly, and his mother smiled at him.

The rest of his free time that week was spent in the library, but now he wasn't only looking for her.  This was fortunate, as she rarely appeared.  She was there on Friday, however, returning the pile of books she had taken out on Monday and getting a new batch.  She carried the pile over to his table.  He shoved Spells for Any Ship: The Big Book of Maritime Sorcery under his Transfiguration textbook as she approached. 

"Hi," she said with a smile.  "How are you, Viktor?"

"I am fine," he said.  "Please sit down."

"OK," she said, "but I can only stay for a bit.  I've got loads of work to do."

Viktor looked down at the table in front of him and realized that the sheaf of parchment with his notes on shark transfiguration was still sitting in plain sight.  He pushed it aside, casually turning over the top sheet.  Part of him wanted to tell her about the second task, to share his anxiety with her.  He was certain that she would understand.  And she was so intelligent; perhaps she could even assist him.  Viktor quickly pushed the thought away, remembering Karkaroff's words with a sick twist of his stomach.  No, his relationship with her was totally separate from the Tournament, and he was going to keep it that way.  So he asked about her classes, and kept the conversation light.   But even as he listened to her describing the ancient Celtic runes she had decoded earlier that day, his mind drifted to the second task.  He couldn't help picturing her, watching from the stands in impressed delight.  Yes.  For her, he could do this.

*********

Viktor stepped out into the wintry air and stood a moment, pleased that he wasn't shivering.  Of course, the winters here were nothing like those in Bulgaria, but then, he didn't usually go around in swimming trunks back home either.  This would be his fourth attempt to practice for the second task.  With all the other students in Hogsmeade for the day, he hoped he would have a chance to do so without interruption; it was difficult enough for him to attempt this transformation without Pashnik leaning over the side of the ship, calling out terrible jokes involving bikinis and the Giant Squid.

Viktor checked that his wand was securely lodged in his waistband, then climbed up onto the side of the ship and dived into the lake.  The water was so cold it took his breath away, but he swiftly surfaced and continued moving toward the center of the lake.  Gritting his teeth, he pulled out his wand and pointed it at himself, trying to concentrate and tread water at the same time.  He took a deep breath and said, "Mutare Pistrix!"

He felt the change at once, as his face began to lengthen and his teeth sharpened to fine points.  He plunged his head into the water and allowed his newfound gills to do their work.  This much he had managed before.  Viktor waited, praying that he had gotten it right this time.  His heart gave a jubilant leap as he felt his arms slam to his sides, gradually changing into fins.  He could no longer tread water; his legs were coming together, meshing into the shark's sleek body—

And then, without warning, something grabbed his foot, pulling him deeper into the lake and completely shattering his concentration.  Viktor flailed furiously, trying to shake off whatever it was.  He saw his wand floating before his eyes and realized with annoyance that he could reach for it; his arms were moving freely by his sides again.  He grabbed his wand and pointed it downward just as he was able to make out what was holding his ankle.  A Grindylow.  He should have known.  He had heard that there were quite a few of them in the lake, but he hadn't realized that he was that far out.

Viktor kicked furiously at the creature.  He realized, with a sudden panicked jolt, that he couldn't breathe.  His head had transformed back as well.  With a surge of irritation at being interrupted when he was so close to his goal, Viktor heaved himself up through the water, dragging the Grindylow with him.  As his face broke the surface, he gulped in a huge amount of air and pointed his wand downward, shouting, "Relashio!"   The creature immediately let go, and Viktor swam quickly back toward the Durmstrang ship.

"That was foolish," he muttered angrily at himself.  He couldn't afford to be so careless.  He would have to start the transformation in the shallower parts of the lake.

But, he thought with something approaching a smile, he had almost done it.  If he hadn't been distracted…

He would just have to concentrate harder, he decided as he pulled himself onto the shore and into the frigid air.  He must let nothing distract him; that was all there was to it.

*****************

Viktor continued to practice the shark transfiguration whenever he could, usually in the early morning hours previously reserved for his solo flights.  By the beginning of February, he was able to complete the transformation nearly every time he tried it.  This was fortunate, because he now had a new distraction to think about.

It began when Pashnik flopped into a chair next to him at breakfast one morning, sighing dramatically.  Viktor merely gave him a half-puzzled, half-annoyed look, but Pashnik straightened up and answered as if Viktor had spoken.

"For Edina," he said in a low voice.  "I do not know whether I should send her flowers or singing fairies."

Viktor's confusion must have showed on his face, because Pashnik sighed impatiently.  "Valentine's Day is next Tuesday, Viktor.  Were you even planning to do anything for your…friend?"  Viktor felt his face flush as Pashnik grinned wickedly.

Viktor looked quickly over at the Gryffindor table, where she was absorbed in serious conversation with her friends.  He hadn't seen much of her lately; every time he went to look for her, she was in the library with Potter and the other boy, studying.  She had told him, in a flustered, apologetic sort of way, that she had loads of work just now, and he'd understood.  After all, he himself had been working hard on his preparation for the second task, so he knew about being busy.

But Valentine's Day…he had never thought about it before, had never had reason to.  And the holiday seemed to generate much more excitement here than it had back home.  But he wondered, now, what it would mean to her to receive something special on Valentine's Day.  He was suddenly grateful to Pashnik for drawing his attention to this.

"…to give Edina?" Pashnik was saying.

"What?" Viktor asked abruptly, turning back to him.

"I said, which do you think would be better to give Edina?" Pashnik said emphatically.

Viktor shook his head.  "It will not make a difference what you give her," he said distractedly.  "What do girls expect for things like this?"

"Oh, cards, flowers, candy, things like that," said Pashnik, waving his hand dismissively.  "What do you mean, it will not make a difference?"

Viktor rolled his eyes.  "She will like whatever you give her," he said, his thoughts still on the question of what to do about this holiday.  "Cards?  With poetry and that sort of thing?"  He was remembering, with a horribly apprehensive feeling, some of the cards he had received over the past few years.  He certainly hoped he wouldn't be expected to write anything like that. 

Pashnik wasn't answering, though.  He was staring at Viktor in surprise.

"What?" Viktor asked defensively.

Pashnik shook his head slightly, and a smile spread slowly across his face.  It was an unusual smile for Pashnik; it bore little resemblance to the exaggerated grin Viktor was used to from him.  "Nothing," he said, still smiling and giving Viktor an odd look.  Then Pashnik's gaze fell on someone behind Viktor, and Viktor knew without turning around that Edina must have entered the hall.  Pashnik stood up abruptly, the smile on his face growing wider.

"Just tell her how you feel," he said distractedly.  Viktor was not sure whether this last bit of advice was directed towards him, or whether Pashnik was talking to himself.  In any case, Pashnik moved down the table and situated himself next to Edina.

Viktor finished his breakfast in silence, wondering how he would handle this.  He knew he had to give her something.  He wanted to.  He wanted her to have everything a woman was supposed to have on Valentine's Day.

Suddenly he remembered her face when he had given her the flowers before the Yule Ball, and knew he must give her flowers again.  And a card—perhaps he could find a spell to make her a spectacular card, one that sang, or…

No.  No, she would appreciate something simple.  Something heartfelt.  Viktor's stomach gave a lurch.  Yes.  He would tell her how he felt.  That would be enough.

**********

Viktor spent the rest of the week trying to compose a letter to her.  Though he knew how he felt, it was difficult to put it down on paper.  It felt so…public, somehow, even though this paper was for her eyes only.  Finally, by the following Monday, he settled on a final version:

Dear Hermione,

I told you once that it is much nicer here at Hogwarts than it is at Durmstrang.  I would not be honest if I did not tell you that meeting you has been what has made it so much nicer.  I hold the time we have spent together close to my heart, and I hope that we will have many more moments together.  You are truly beautiful and intelligent.  I have never felt this way before about anyone else. 

Happy Valentine's Day

Love,

Viktor

He planned to send this to her via owl at the lunch table the next day, accompanied by a large box of red roses.  He imagined the amazed look on her face as she opened the letter.  In his vision, she jumped up and ran across the Great Hall into his arms.  

Viktor shook his head to clear it.  It was silly of him, to think such things.  Besides, one of those dazzling smiles directed at him across the Great Hall would be enough. 

The next morning, however, his plans changed quite abruptly.  As he crossed the Entrance Hall on his way to breakfast, he found himself behind two red-haired figures, one of whom he recognized as the Gryffindor girl who had sat at their table at the Yule Ball. 

"…anything for Hermione?" the girl was saying, immediately catching Viktor's attention.  He tried not to eavesdrop too obviously, yet stay close enough to hear.

The other person turned to her with a repulsed look on his face, and Viktor saw that it was the unfriendly red-haired boy, her friend.  He seemed offended at whatever the girl—she must be his sister, Viktor realized—had said.  "No way!"  he said.  "I had to give you a card, you're my sister.  Anyway, Hermione doesn't like all that girly stuff."

The girl just shrugged and continued into the Great Hall.  The boy followed her, and, as he went through the doorway and turned toward the Gryffindor table, he caught sight of Viktor behind him.  Viktor thought the boy flashed him a dirty look before he turned away, but he couldn't be sure. 

In any case, Viktor was too distracted by his sudden self-doubt to process anything properly.  Had he been wrong to think that she would enjoy being the center of attention today?  Would he embarrass her? 

Viktor remembered the heartfelt words he had written.  Was it too much?  Would she think he was being insincere?

A squeal rang out from the Ravenclaw table and Viktor watched as a dark-haired girl held up some sort of jewelry and threw her arms around the boy next to her.  Viktor's eyes strayed to the Gryffindor table and found her.  She was sitting with a book propped in her lap, a piece of toast in one hand, looking over at the girl who had squealed with a baleful expression.

And Viktor knew that he could not send her that letter. 

**********

Viktor sat on his bed that evening, staring down at the letter he had so carefully composed.  Useless, he thought, crumpling it into a ball with his fist.

But it hadn't been a total loss.  He had still sent her a Valentine, a simple heart that said:

Dear Hermione

Happy Valentine's Day

From

Viktor Krum

And she had still smiled at him across the hall, but it hadn't been quite what he had pictured. 

Viktor stood abruptly and lobbed the crumpled-up parchment into the empty grate.  He would tell her how he felt, he decided.  But not like this, not showing off with some stupid holiday that only idiots like Pashnik took seriously. 

She would see, when he competed in the second task.  She would see how impressive he could be.  And then he would tell her those things.

Viktor suddenly realized that he hadn't practiced his transfiguration in over a week.  He frowned at himself and vowed to get up early the next morning to go over it again.  There were only nine days left until the task; he could not afford to get lazy now.   On February the twenty-fourth, he would be ready to transform, ready to retrieve whatever it was that would be taken.

Viktor frowned again and leaned back on his bed.  He had nearly forgotten about that bit, so caught up had he been in learning the transfiguration.  But now he went over the words in his mind:

"And while you're searching, ponder this:

We've taken what you'll sorely miss…"

"What you'll sorely miss."  Viktor cast around, trying to think what that might be.  His broomstick?  Perhaps…but he could always get another.  Goodness knew he had splintered enough of them back when he had been learning the Wronski Feint; he had quickly learned not to get attached to his equipment.  Viktor looked around his cabin, wondering what it could possibly be.  On his desk, his quill was scratching out replies to a stack of Valentine's Day fan mail—Viktor certainly wouldn't miss that; in fact, he rather relished the though of it being abducted by Merpeople.  His eyes traveled over his sparsely furnished cabin and found nothing he couldn't live without.  Then his eyes fell on the crumpled parchment in the grate and he froze.

There was nothing here he would miss…

…apart from her.

Her face floated to the front of his mind and Viktor sat up abruptly, his heart suddenly racing.  They wouldn't…they couldn't.   But what if…what if…the "something" in the poem was really "someone"?  Even as the blood pounded in his ears at the very idea, a detached, rational part of his mind told him that it would be effective; after all, it would certainly motivate the champions to retrieve what they lost.

Viktor hastily went over the rest of the poem in his head. 

"An hour long you'll have to look,

And to recover what we took,

But past an hour--the prospect's black

Too late, it's gone, it won't come back."

What if he didn't get to her within an hour?  What would happen?  Viktor leaned his forehead on his palms, trying to breathe normally.  And then he realized that he was being stupid.  The judges had put all those safety restrictions on the Tournament.  Surely they wouldn't let anything happen to her. 

But he didn't intend to take any chances.  He pulled out his swim trunks.