Thanks for all your reviews! Over 30! I am truly grateful for your feedback. Though for some I'm not even sure are compliments...

And then, just to flatter myself, I shall pick a few and answer them... like fanmail. Ooh! The very idea excites me!

IvebeenKrummed : Nice name. I'm not so sure the reason Krum entered Hermione's house as a drunkard was as a means to gain attention.The real reason's in the fourth chapter, you'll just have to reread it to get the answer! ;D

Panther Eyes : Is that a good or bad thing?

Silent Cobra : You suck too! No, actually I love you :D Ron and Hermione fluff? Signed, Sealed, DESTROYED! But say, ever heard of regeneration...?

And that concludes. I thank you once again for all your reviews! It's not a tremendous amount, but I'm still pretty satisfied. That's why I'm updating constantly!

DISCLAIMER:

All characters belong to JK.

…

The next week crawled by oh-so slowly. Hermione didn't know what she could live for now that the love of her life was (it was so hard to admit) gone.

After the news of the loss of a family member, the Weasleys broke down, and Hermione knew that the person who had been the most affected was definitely Mrs. Weasley. The person Hermione was supposed to call Mum. Because she was going to marry her son. Hermione smirked despite herself. Not anymore. She wasn't going to call anyone her second mother any time soon. In fact, Hermione was keen to put a bit of distance between herself and the Weasleys. She didn't want them to loathe her and blame her for what happened, even though she knew perfectly well that it was her fault and that she was just in denial.

And as Ron was a famous Auror, thanks to Harry, the headlines of the Daily Prophet were dedicated to him for a day.

YOUNG AUROR FALLS TO HIS DEATH DURING A DUEL WITH DEATH EATERS

LONDON – It was a bright sunny afternoon when Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, 20, was strolling casually with his best friend
Russell Weasley when they were unfortunate enough to be confronted by a mob of angry Death Eaters, the followers of the
powerful Dark Wizard,He Who Must Not Be Named. The duo tried to escape by retreating into a deserted building, but was pursued by
the Death Eaters. While they were trying to hide on the rooftop, Russell Weasley had lost his balance and toppled off the 20-storey high building and
plunged to his death. Witnesses were scarce, but the Daily Prophet was able to interview these witches, who happened to be passing at the scene of the crime.

"It was terrible, we thought that there was a fire up there, since people were screaming in agony and we saw a vivid color of red prancing
around – until we realized that it was his hair!" Young Gretel Punt, 15, a student at Grodor's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry reported

Goes to show that cowardice never saves the day.

There was more to the article, but Hermione refused to read the rest. They were mocking him outright! They hadn't even gotten his name correct!

Hermione had ditched work for a while – she did receive angry letters from her colleagues and boss, but a few days later, when the news of Ron's passing had got to them, they shut up. Hermione was drowned in letters and owls, mostly from concerned friends, and relatives even. Her parents, being subscribers to the Daily Prophet, had read about the tragic event and were pestering her.

"Howare you darling?" her mother had written. "Don't worry. Whatever doesn't kill you can only make you stronger. If you want, I can arrange a psychiatrist to help you through this. Please don't be too upset over this. We love you."

Hermione had crumpled the letter and shred it to little pieces. What rubbish! Was that the only thing she could say? Some stupid quote that wasn't even hers? And a psychiatrist! Did her parents think she was crazy! And how could she not be upset! Was she supposed to be cheering and celebrating? Perhaps skinny-dipping at one of those wild parties that Lavender Brown was always throwing? Did they even understand the trauma that Hermione was going through? Had they ever lost someone so dear?

Hermione's tears trailed from her eyes to her chin before falling onto her velvet robes. Viktor placed a comforting hand over hers and flashed a compassionate smile. Hermione did not react. She was too weary to. Nights were spent crying and she never got enough sleep.

"It iz okay to cry." He cooed, his voice soft and soothing, barely audible over the loud crackling of fire in the fireplace.

Hermione felt a bit of annoyance creep up her sleeve, but remained as still as ever, closing her eyes as more mammoth droplets of tears oozed down her cheeks.

Ever since she had gotten the tragic news of Ron's death, Viktor had been sticking to her like a leech. He was determined to comfort and nurse her back to her usual self, the exact opposite of what he was really doing. His presence only made her feel worse – It reminded her of their fight. She tried shouting at him a time or two to shoo him away, but he merely brushed them off as tantrums and continued leeching onto her faithfully.

"Blaming yourself vill not verk. The fight vos not your fault." Viktor added, touching her hand tenderly.

"Shut it. He would have kicked the bucket anyway." Hermione hissed. She withdrew her hand. Viktor was taken aback, and so was she. How could she have said that? She looked at Viktor, who looked positively agog at her rash reply.

"If only I had grabbed the letter before him…" Hermione choked, releasing an entire series of fresh tears. Viktor did not make a move to comfort her again, but instead conjured a mug of hot chocolate for the both of them.

"I know it is uzeless to comfort you with meaningless verds." He said, moving to the edge of the couch to reach out for his drink. "But at least I provide company in your greatest time of need."

Hermione felt a pang of guilt. She looked at her own steaming mug, not knowing quite what to do or say.

"If it makez you feel better, I lozt both my parentz not too long ago." He turned back to glance at Hermione, who ogled back at him.

"Sorry… I didn't know…"

"It's not your fault. They too, died by the handz off a Death Eater." He turned his head back to take a sip of his chocolate.

"They vere cruizing in Jamaica." He continued. "I had suggezted the vacation. My dad vos head of a department in the Miniztry of Magic in Bulgaria. He vos very stressed. He needed a holiday.

"And vhen they reached their destination, the information that they were unguarded reached the Death Eaters stationed there, and they sprung into action and before my parentz cood vhip out their vands – they vere dead."

Hermione gasped in horror. "I-in Jamaica…" Viktor nodded and took a sip of his hot chocolate, as if they were talking about something as simple and boring as the weather.

"I am sure that you know only too vell that ever since the Dark Lord haz been resurrected, his minions haff multiplied by the millions. He haz got them in every single place vhere it iz possible.

"And my parents had the misfortune of going to one of those places." Viktor concluded, but did not turn around to look at Hermione's reaction. Hermione paused in extreme discomfort. She tried to pick any hints of remorse or regret in his voice, but there were none. And then all the soreness that she felt for herself vanished. She had been mourning and wallowing in her self-pity for so long, hating everyone around her for not being able to feel the forlornness that she felt. And here sat Viktor Krum, who lost both his parents, completely calm and composed.

"Of course I felt extreme bitterness. I vonted revenge. But juzt as I was blinded by fury, planning the mozt excruciating vay to kill them, it finally dawned on me. Even if I slashed them to bits and fed them to animals, I vood never get back the von thing that they took avay from me – my parents. So therefore you shouldn't feel so ba-"

"Oh Viktor!" Hermione had gotten up and hugged Viktor. Viktor was shocked speechless. She was starting to sob all over the front of his shirt, but he didn't mind. He quickly recovered from his astonishment and hugged her back, patting her head in a mild attempt to cheer her up. And it stayed like that for a good few minutes. There was complete silence except for Hermione's sobbing and the crackling of the fire, but it was good silence. For Viktor Krum anyway.

…

It was in the dead of the night. Viktor squirmed a little, trying to make himself a little more comfortable. Turning his head around, he noticed that the fire was dying out and for the second time, he pointed at the fire and muttered "Incendio!" Almost instantly, magnificent flames exploded in the fireplace and there was a lively fire dancing there once more, a sharp contrast to the poignant dying embers that resided there mere seconds ago.

Viktor barely stifled a yawn. He had been awake all night. He couldn't sleep, sure that he would regret it if he really did so. He tried to rub the sleepiness out of his eyes and placed both his hands below his head.

Upon hearing a slight groan from near his chest, he looked down; and saw a slumbering Hermione shifting in her sleep. Her head was on Viktor's chest, and as he breathed slowly, her head bobbed up and down to its rhythmic rise and fall. Hermione sighed contentedly and cuddled up to Viktor, who coughed nervously.

Hermione's eyes flew open like a curtain that was released too forcibly.

"OH MERLIN!" she cried as she jumped off Viktor as though he was scorching hot. Viktor sat up slowly, and if one were to scrutinize his tanned face, would have been able to see the slightest shade of pink.

Viktor broke into a tiny grin. Hermione dusted her clothes and looked away, heat rushing to her cheeks like a torrent. There was an awkward silence between them.

"I-I'm sorry," Hermione struggled for an excuse. "I… I didn't think-"

"You cried until you fell asleep. I did not move in fear of vaking you up. You needed all the rest you could get." Viktor interrupted, sitting properly and stretching his aching limbs. Hermione was nonplussed.

"Still you shouldn't have gotten through the trouble of – of – Did you keep the fire going the whole night?" Hermione was gazing at the grand fire that was crackling in the fire place. Viktor could swear that her eyes were suddenly very shiny.

"I coodn't let you freeze to death."

He looked meaningfully at Hermione, who returned a weak smile.

"The only person who cares as much as you is Ron." she whispered, tears now flowing freely. Then she shook her head.

"I meant was Ron."

Viktor looked uneasily at his own hands. He wasn't very good at consoling crying girls. He conjured some tissue, in which Hermione started blowing her nose hysterically into.

"Even my parents were never there. They were always away at work or some mysterious party that I was always too young to attend." Hermione sobbed. Viktor moved a little closer to her to put a comforting arm around her shoulder.

"Oh Viktor… You don't know how much I appreciate you." She said, leaning her head against Viktor's shoulder. He swallowed nervously.

Blood started boiling in his veins, and was rushing in all directions in his body, especially south. Hermione dabbed furiously at her eyes. From Viktor's point of view, this was the most awkward silence that he had ever experience. He hesitated -

And then Viktor did what his heart told him to do – he lifted Hermione's head by the chin, gazed into her eyes (his heart was banging like crazy), and lowered his head.

As his head drew nearer to Hermione's, he saw her eyes close. He was able to hear Hermione's soft breathing. His face was barely an inch away from hers. He closed his eyes...

"You're like a brother to me." Hermione said suddenly. Viktor retracted his hand immediately and looked away.

He put his hand to his heart. It was thumping so hard.

Viktor felt like such a moron. What could have driven him to do such an imbecilic act?

"I feel so tired." Hermione said, rubbing her eyes. "Where do you live?"

"Two hourz from here."

Hermione took a sharp intake of air and stared. "Two hours?"

"Would you like to sleep here? I've got a spare bedroom for guests…" she trailed off and looked at the fire. Viktor guessed that the bedroom probably used to belong to that wretched Ron Weasley.

"It iz perfectly comfortable for me to sleep here, if you do not mind."

"Yes I do mind!" Hermione snapped. Looking at Viktor's expression, she hastily changed her tone.

"Uh… There are iguanas living under the couch."

"Sorry?"

"No I mean – why don't you just take a shower and have a rest in the guest room?"

Viktor nodded, a little confused. He ran a hand over his hair (stubble, actually) and followed her when she headed towards the stairs. She stopped halfway to point her wand at the fireplace ("Extiugfy!"). And they continued along. Viktor looked around his surroundings, impressed. The corridor in which they were in was surrounded by vast, white walls, and numeral doors lined it. In each blank space between the doors, there were abstract pictures. Viktor glanced at one of them as he passed.

It looked so weird, he thought as he walked on. It had one eye at the top, one at the bottom, a nose at the left side of the picture, and lips that were too thick for his liking at the right hand corner. It wasn't moving. Viktor blinked. The picture must have been drawn by a Muggle.

"This is your room." Hermione said, opening a door to a dark room. She pointed her wand to the ceiling and muttered, and immediately, a lamp that hung from the ceiling illuminated. A candle was burning brightly inside. Then, she repeated the procedure at the four corners of the room. Four separate candles lit up. Now that the room was lit up merely by candles, it was glowing with a romantic atmosphere.

As Viktor admired his new room, Hermione yawned.

"'Scuse me," she said as she covered her mouth. "But I'm really, really tired. There's a toilet there (she gestured to a door beside the cupboard), you can take a shower, and make yourself at – "

"Thank you. I can handle it myself. I can see how exhausted you are." Viktor cut in. Hermione smiled appreciatively.

"Well, goodnight then. Sleep well."

"You too. Do not stress yourself too much."

Hermione exited, closing the door behind her. Viktor heard another door click from across the corridor before he moved.

He sighed happily as he plopped onto the bed.

It never occurred to Hermione that he could Apparate. He chuckled and with a soft pop, he disappeared, and within seconds he reappeared with another pop, only this time he had in his arm a fresh set of clothes. Then he got up, and headed towards the bathroom, humming a Bulgarian song.

He was only her "brother" now, but he was going to make sure that that was going to change. Even if it took years, he was determined.

He was feeling lucky.

And I don't want the world to see me

'Cuz I don't think that they'd understand

When everything's made to be broken

I just want you to know who I am

I just had to throw in that Goo Goo Dolls song for kicks. It's a really nice song. It was playing on the radio while I was writing this, so I thought Heck, let's just put it in.

The story doesn't advance a lot in this chapter, it sorts of touches up the little issues, and these things will reoccur soon enough as the story continues.

And as for V/H shippers, here's your reward! I didn't make them have some hot make-out session in this chapter tho, cos I thought that would be just so... forced. Love takes time, you see! But before I vomit the whole story here, hush hush.

Reviews are very, very much appreciated.

Till my next update.