Chapter 14

Viktor woke late the next morning after a night of fitful, wishful dreams and lay in bed, listening. The house was quiet. Either she was gone or she was still asleep. He hoped she was gone; he didn't want to have to face her this morning. She was leaving. He knew it when he went to sleep last night. Part of him had already realized it when he tossed out his ultimatum. He hated doing that, but he felt as though every time she showed up he was left hurting. He was strong…but he wasn't strong enough to be her part-time pseudo-boyfriend. He wanted all or nothing.

Last night, after his own quiet tears had stopped, he'd lain in bed listening to her sobs from the living room. Twice he'd walked to the door of his room, and twice he'd gotten back in bed. He couldn't go to her. If she chose him, it had to be entirely her choice. She wasn't the kind to leave him wondering; she would have come to him if she'd picked him. She hadn't come.

He couldn't imagine why she preferred Weasley, especially after everything he'd done. The only advantage over him that Weasley had, as far as Viktor could see, was a piece of paper, a marriage license.

He got out of bed and dressed. It was chilly in the house; outside it was still misting rain. He went into the living room where Hermione was still sleeping. Quietly he crept to the couch and gazed at her. She had streaks on her cheeks from her tears during the night. He wanted to pick her up, take her to his bed, lie beside her and hold her. He wanted to be there when she woke up so he could convince her to let him love her. He wanted desperately to be her man.

Instead, he quietly built a fire in the fireplace to knock the chill out of the air. She stirred but she didn't wake up. He made coffee, drinking his in the kitchen and leaving a cup for her on the coffee table with a scribbled note underneath. He couldn't be here when she left. He didn't want to watch her leave him again. He grabbed his cloak off its hook by the back door and got his fastest broom out of the shed. He needed a good hard ride. With any luck, she'd be gone by the time he came back, and he'd be too exhausted to think about her absence.

After she'd washed her face and drank her coffee, Hermione sat on Viktor's sofa, note in hand. It simply read

Gone Flying.

Viktor

He'd known, somehow, that she wasn't staying. He didn't want to be here when she left, hadn't wanted to say goodbye. An ache welled up inside of her, but she crushed it down. She should leave now and stay away from him. She was hurting him every time she came to Izbor. At that moment, she felt like the most horrible worm that ever existed. This man had been nothing but wonderful, and she ripped him into little pieces nearly every time she saw him. She needed to stay away. She got up and washed her cup, tucking his last note into her pocket. She left his house and looked around the sky, hoping for at least a glimpse of him, but he was nowhere in sight.

She somehow couldn't force herself to leave Izbor, so she strolled through town, looking for somewhere to go. Mrs. Krum's shop was open. Hermione stood at the door, debating whether or not to go in. After a moment, she pushed it open.

"Thought you vould be back. I think ve need talk." Mrs. Krum's unhappy voice surprised her.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked. Surely Viktor hadn't told his mum…?

"You not come to Izbor for books, do you? Is in your eyes."

Should she lie? She thought about it. She didn't think she could, not to Viktor's mother with her piercing dark eyes that seemed to read her soul.

"I did the first time."

"And others?"

Slowly, ashamed, Hermione sighed, "No, not the other times."

"You are still married, yes?"

"Yes."

"Then you leave my Vitya alone. My boy had enough hurt from you for two lifetime. You vant him, then not be vith husband. Vitya deserve better than voman who vill no put him first."

Blunt, wasn't she? Hermione understood, though; she felt pretty much the same way. With a nod, she left the shop and Apparated back to her home in London and her hung-over husband, carrying a deep ache and an even deeper longing inside of her.