Chapter 28

Viktor padded into the living room in his pajama pants, looking for Hermione. He found her curled on the couch with her translating parchment and one of his Cyrillic books, sleeping in his big bathrobe. He sat on the floor beside her and laid his cheek on the couch, watching her. A curl, damp from her shower, lay across her face, her breath stirring it slightly. Her eyelashes caressed her cheeks and he wanted to touch them, to see if they were spiky or soft.

He wondered briefly if Weasley had ever stared at her eyelashes. He doubted it; Weasley didn't seem like the type of man to pay attention to the tiny details that made a woman beautiful. But once, surely, he had loved Hermione. Viktor couldn't see her being blind enough to marry a man that hadn't loved her, and he didn't think Weasley was that good of an actor. For a fleeting instant, such a short moment in time, Viktor felt sorry for the boy that had loved Hermione, the innocent boy who had been ruined, like so many, in the war with Voldemort. That boy had let his jealousy get the best of him and had thrown away an angel like this. Viktor felt nothing but malice toward the man he had grown into, but the boy, he pitied.

Hermione would divorce him, Viktor was certain. In his heart, he had a warm glow that told him she would. That glow was a timid baby bird, hiding in the nest, afraid to jump out into the sun and fly for fear it would be hurt. Viktor was afraid to hope, yet he still did. She would divorce Weasley eventually, and when she did, she would come to him. He would be waiting for her, just like he had been his entire life. Only now, she was here, and someday she would be his.

The fire he had built when they came in from the beach had died, and there was a chill in the air. Goosebumps danced up Hermione's arm, and he watched, fascinated, as the little hairs stood on end. He wanted to watch them rise from heat, from arousal, as he slid his hands over her body. Someday he would, but for now, he needed to push those thoughts back. She was cold.

He hated to disturb her; she had to be emotionally exhausted. She needed the sleep. He should get a blanket out of the closet and tuck her in, then go to bed. He napped on the couch often, so he knew she wouldn't be uncomfortable. He stood up, planning to get a blanket, and slipped the book and parchment out from under her hand. Her fingers brushed his, and he changed his mind.

Viktor wanted her with him. He wanted to cuddle her close, even though her proximity drove him wild. He wanted to touch her and smell her and kiss her. He wanted to feel her hair against his chest. He could be selfish for once; besides, he wouldn't be disturbing her long. He needed tonight. He needed every night.

He lifted her to his chest, and her sleepy eyes blinked up at him. She smiled, then lay her cheek on his shoulder and went back to sleep. So sweet, so pretty, he felt his heart lurch. The little baby bird peeked over the edge of the nest.

He set her gently on the bed and slipped off his robe. He doubted he'd ever wear it again without seeing Hermione in it. Now she was wearing another shirt of his. He adored seeing her in his clothes; he had donated the entire contents of his too-small drawer to her. She curled onto her side, and he couldn't help but think that panties and one of his old shirts had to be sexier on her than all the lingerie in the world. It was comfortable, casual, simple, real, and so Hermione.

Doing his best to ignore the ache that popped up from seeing her that way, Viktor crawled under the covers and cradled her against him. Soon he was lost in dreams of love, sand, flour, and forever.

Viktor watched her eat breakfast. She took a bite of pancake, dripping with syrup that clung in sticky drops to her pink lips. She sipped her milk, pearling white on the rim of the plastic Snitch cup. Her bite of bacon crunched in her mouth. All he could think about was that he would be alone tonight. She'd only been here several days, and already he felt like she belonged here. The house would be so empty without her.

She placed her plate in the sink and returned to the table to finish her milk. He pushed his chair back and caught her hand before she could sit down. She was leaving soon, and his stomach felt like ice. He pulled her onto his lap and snuggled his face against her shoulder.

"I vill miss you tonight."

She stroked his hair, a soothing gesture, and he tightened his arms around her, being careful of her still-bruised back. He'd woken up before her this morning. The shirt had been bunched around her waist from sleep, and he'd brushed a soft kiss against her bruises, hating their very existence. She would be alright. She was strong; she was leaving her husband. The baby bird stood on the rim of the nest, fluttering its little wings.

"I would send an owl, but it would take too long. You should get a telephone, or get on the Floo Network."

"Vill haff to haggle vith your ministry to get on the Floo."

"When I move here, we'll need to get on it so I can go to work, anyway," she said absentmindedly. "I need to go to Albania soon."

With that sentence, spoken so lightly by her, as if she hadn't realized she'd said it, the little bird took the final leap. She would be with him, and he would wait forever, because he knew she would someday. However long it took her to get her divorce, he would be here. Even though she hadn't consciously made her decision, her heart knew. She'd let it slip. For now, he would carry on as normal, as if she hadn't.

"Ve play them in two veeks. If you are interested, you could go vith me then. Vhile I do Quidditch things, you could do your vork. It might be more fun than being alone. Think about it and let me know."

She grinned at him. "I don't have to think about it. That would be great, Vitya. I'd love to go then." She kissed him quickly, as if to seal the idea. "But for now, I'd better get on to work. I'll be back tomorrow night. Have a good day at practice." He walked with her to the porch, stealing a long, soft goodbye kiss to make up for the ones he wouldn't get this evening. Then Hermione was gone, but he had his hope to keep him warm this time.