Title: At Hogwarts, We Do it On the Sly
Author: Fia Reynne
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Krum/Karkaroff's Aide (who I have named Mikhail Borev, to clear up any confusion.)
Summary: Prequel to "In Bulgaria, We Do It Sideways." Viktor and Mikhail go against Karkaroff's orders.
Notes and Disclaimer: I don't own these guys. I wouldn't know what to do with them if I did. Please don't sue me, because I have less than nothing to my name, really. Dedicated to Magz, who inspired me to write "In Bulgaria, We Do it Sideways" after I totally noticed these guys were holding hands during Cedric's memorial. Then she told me my smut didn't have enough angst, so here is some angst peppered with smut.
"I will not hear any arguments from you, Mr. Krum," Professor Igor Karkaroff snarled, baring a mouthful of half-rotting teeth. "I won't stand for this any longer. And you, Borev. You ought to know better than to dally with a student."
"I am a grown man," Viktor Krum scowled. "I am fully eighteen and capable of making my own choices."
"If you want to be a kopche, you can do it on your own time. From now until we return from Hogwarts at the end of the school year, you are on my time. Both of you." The professor sat down at his desk. "Mikhail, it is all well and good for you to be a shiban pedal, but Mr. Krum is a celebrity to the wizarding world. Is he not the seeker who brought victory to Bulgaria in the Quidditch World Cup? He cannot be seen as weak, not with the Triwizard Tournament coming up so soon. There is little doubt he will be Durmstrang's champion, and surely there will be none of Madame Maxime's girls who will rival him. I have little fear that Dumbledore's passel of mud-bloods and muggle-borns will produce anything worth worrying over."
"He can play professional Quidditch, but not choose who shares his bed?" Mikhail Borev muttered.
"Not another word on the subject," Karkaroff said. "Both of you, be gone. There is much to be done before we depart for England."
-------
"It is not fair," Viktor whined that evening. "I am a man. I am not a child any longer."
"You sound much like a child right now," Mikhail frowned. "Igor has made up his mind, and he will not change it. There is no use in fretting and complaining. We will simply have to -"
"What? Be apart for an entire school year?" Viktor slumped in his chair. "I cannot be without you. I live for the feel of your hands on my flesh -"
"Viktor!" Mikhail said harshly. "There is nothing to be done. We must simply live with it."
"You say that now," Krum said coyly, "but let us hear you say so in a week's time, or two. Let us see whether you are begging me to open myself to you."
"I did not say it would be easy, or yet painless," Mikhail said quietly. "I shall miss your touch as much as you miss mine, my love."
-------
Pain, Mikhail had certainly expected. But it was torture - sheer agony - to watch the English and French girls falling all over themselves to be at Viktor's side. When night fell, they would find one another in a darkened hallway, an empty classroom, any place they could steal a few moments alone. Their need was so strong that they frequently indulged in frantic kisses, groping in the dark. Hands would snake blindly down trousers, wrap around swelling, throbbing members, and they would thrust against each other fiercely until both had reached their muffled, messy climax. It was not enough.
-------
"Are you certain?"
"No, I am not, Viktor, but we must be more careful. She may see more next time."
"What shall we do, then?" Viktor sighed, his face fallen.
"You must ask her to the ball," Mikhail said decisively. "Convince her that it is her you are lusting for, that she is the reason you were flushed with passion."
"Mikhail -"
"Viktor, you must know by now I don't like this any more than you do," Borev sighed. "Professor Karkaroff will not be happy if anyone finds out about you - about us. And neither of us wants to deal with Igor when he is unhappy."
"And he will be happy that I am taking a muggle-born to the Yule Ball?" Krum pointed out.
"She is Potter's friend," Borev told him. "And she is female."
"I had noticed," Krum said dryly. "Is that not part of the problem?"
"Viktor," Mikhail said.
"What?"
"I love you." Mikhail sighed deeply. "Come to my bed tonight, if you can get away."
"You have not answered me."
"You understand Igor's wishes. For the others to know of our relationship... it would look bad for you. It... would make you look weak." Mikhail had a deep sadness in his eyes. "I fear I shall always make you appear weak. Perhaps -"
"No," Viktor interrupted. "I know what you are thinking and it is not so. You are what makes me strong. If you - if we were not together..."
"If we were not together, Viktor, your life would be much less complicated."
-------
"Will you go to the ball with me?" Viktor asked, inwardly groaning. The witch's eyes brightened instantly.
"Of course," Hermione Granger breathed. "I'd love to."
"No one has asked you?" he queried, more than a little disappointed that her answer was yes.
"Not yet," she frowned. "But that doesn't matter now."
-------
Hermione obviously took his invitation to the dance as the beginning of something more, Viktor realized, when he found himself in the library for what felt like the thousandth time, watching her study.
"If you want, we could go someplace else," she whispered coyly.
"That is all right," he smiled. "I like to watch you." He was finding one thing interesting about her: the way her two friends, Potter and that red-headed boy, were constantly glaring at him as though he had stolen something of theirs. If only they knew his extreme disinterest in the admittedly pretty but dreadfully boring witch, they would likely be more amused than anything else.
-------
They did look well together, Mikhail thought as he watched Viktor and Potter's friend glide across the dance floor. Of course, Viktor could make the most ugly and foolish woman look good. He felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness as he watched them. When Viktor had gone to get a drink for himself and his date, Mikhail decided it would be nice to dance. He'd been watching the couples swirling and circling and it looked like such fun that he couldn't resist. There was a lovely girl, of Indian descent, he suspected, sitting beside Potter looking utterly bored.
"Could I have your arm?" He asked, bowing slightly.
"My arm, my leg, whatever, I'm yours," she answered gratefully, and they joined the tangle of couples on the floor. Some could dance, and others could not, but for the first time in a long while Mikhail remembered what it was like to feel graceful. Potter's date was light on her feet, he noted, as he caught sight of Viktor and his date. Viktor was glaring daggers at the petite girl in his arms, and a sly smile spread across Mikhail's face.
-------
"The last I saw of her, she was crying on the steps, though I can hardly imagine what for," Viktor sighed. "I was a perfect gentleman."
Mikhail paused in his assault of Viktor's neck to laugh. "I expect that was the problem," he said. "She was likely looking for more than a dance partner in you."
Viktor snorted. "Silly woman. I would wager she has not yet figured out that her two best friends are rutting like animals, the same as we are. They are protective of her, and appear jealous, but it is clear they have a bond like ours."
"Animals, are we?" Mikhail smiled softly. "I should like to think we are more than animals."
"I would imagine they are more than animals as well, but I have not felt more like a beast than I do right now," Viktor groaned, pressing against his lover.
Mikhail nipped his lover's throat. "I feel reckless. Let us make love right here."
Viktor looked around the darkened classroom. "Anyone could walk in," he hesitated. "Karkaroff will certainly be looking for us if we are much longer."
"Then we shall not be much longer," Mikhail growled low in his throat, making Viktor's erection even harder than before. "We must be quick, before -"
"Before someone catches you in an act of debauchery, Borev?" Karkaroff asked angrily. "I thought I had made my wishes clear to you both."
"Professor," Viktor said, jumping away from his lover. "It is not -"
Karkaroff eyed the suspiciously bulging front of Krum's pants. "It seems to me that it is," he snarled. "I will tolerate no more of this." With a swirl of robes, he turned on his heel and left them alone. "Borev," he called over his shoulder.
"I must go," Mikhail said apologetically, not even promising to come to Viktor's bed that night, or inviting him to his.
-------
"Why will you not speak to me?" Viktor persisted. "Why are you shutting me out?"
"That witch?" Mikhail hissed. "That witch is the thing you most value?"
"Of course not," Viktor sighed. "But they don't know that you are. And how would they?"
"Do not make this my fault," the older man snapped. "Potter's lover was his most-valued." It is for his own good, he told himself. I must turn him away so that I may protect him. If not from the public, at least from Igor.
Viktor didn't have an answer for that.
-------
Viktor took to watching Borev follow the professor around, with a look not unlike a glare. The students all noticed, and wondered what Karkaroff's aide had done to incur the Quidditch star's wrath. There were rumors, but no one knew for sure. Some of the rumors hit very close to home, and Mikhail wondered what would happen when word got around to Igor Karkaroff that his aide had spurned Viktor Krum, International Wizarding Superstar. He also wondered what would happen when they returned to Bulgaria, when they were no longer under the intense scrutiny of the Hogwarts and Beauxbatons students. Would Viktor be able to see that everything he had done recently had been for him?
Finally it was the night before the final task, and Mikhail was alone in his room, trying desperately to sleep. He was worried, down to his bones. People died during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and while he thought he'd been helping Viktor by staying away, perhaps he'd only been cause for distraction. Viktor could not afford to be distracted tomorrow.
"You are a sly one," a voice said from the doorway. "For a while I nearly believed you did not want me any longer."
"Viktor," Mikhail sighed with relief. "I was just thinking about you."
"I could tell," Viktor joked. "Your blankets are casting a shadow."
Mikhail looked down, unashamed, and laughed. "So they are."
"Why did you turn me away, my love?" Viktor asked, coming inside the small room and closing the door. "What did you think it would prove?"
"I was foolish," Mikhail admitted. "I thought I was helping you by staying away."
"You are a fool," Viktor agreed. "But you are my fool. And now I can go to bed and rest for the final task. I will make you proud of me, Mikhail."
"You would go to bed without giving me a kiss, after so long?" Mikhail teased.
"A kiss," Viktor sighed dramatically. "But no more. If I lie with you neither of us will get much sleep, and I must be prepared to be tested to my limits tomorrow."
"A kiss, then," Mikhail agreed, accepting the kiss with fervor. That it might not be our last, he prayed silently.