Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author Note: I told you I would update quickly! As of right now, Chapter Three has gotten almost twenty reviews. Thank you guys so much, I told you that the more of you review that faster I will update. I can't help it; I wouldn't want my readers to get angry with me. The plot is being introduced in this chapter; yes there will actually be one of those in the story.

Breaking the Habit

Chapter Four – The Attack

In a dismal world where she lived in dread of her boyfriend's next visit, there were few things that Hermione still found joy in. One of these ways was her job at St. Mungo's. It was a place where, for a brief period of time, she could loose herself in making other people's lives better. Everybody believed the war would be over by the end of the seventh year of the 'Golden Trio'. After being out of school for a year, that particular line of thought had died out. The Wizarding World still fought Voldemort and his ever growing band of Death Eaters.

The Light Side's forces steadily dwindled from the constant battles and faith in the Ministry was all but gone. Due to the skirmishes between the sides, St. Mungo's had a constant supply of wounded trickling in. No matter what happened after work or on the weekends, Hermione would always heal herself to the best of her extensive ability and show up. Without her aid, someone might die and she refused to have such a smear on her conscience. The Monday after Ron decided to lavish his attention on her, she walked into the hospital as she usually did and was immediately cornered by one of her superiors who looked far more frazzled than usual.

"Miss Granger, you are needed on the fourth floor immediately."

She nodded grimly and picked up her pace, the huddles of people that never seemed to leave the lobby parting for the determined looking Healer coming towards them. Hermione soon found herself amongst floating pallets holding writhing men and women, in various states of agony. It had taken her six months to become a full fledged medi-witch, something that had been utterly unheard of. It usually took somewhere between one or two years for those most committed.

But not for her, no she spent every waking moment studying so she could go out and make a difference in the world, chance someone's life. Those first weeks when she dealt with the mortally wounded, she had barely been able to fight down the need to vomit at the extent of their injuries. The desensitization to those screaming in pain had come rapidly to save her self from breaking down. She flicked her wand over a seemingly unconscious young man, his dark hair and facial structure reminding her uncannily of another. She swallowed heavily and quickly pulled a sheet over the newly deceased; She quietly murmured a blessing under her breath, wishing him a speedy flight to the Summerland.

It made her heart ache the number of people who passed on from the monsters who believed that they were worthless simply because of their blood. A frantic voice caught her attention, somebody anxiously calling for her. She rushed to the side of one of her fellow medics and did not bother to silence her gasp when she looked down at the patient. She recognized that slightly birdlike nose, those hues such a dark brown they looked black, and that hair. Despite the serious wounds marring his visage, there was only one person who it could be. Her hand that did not clutch her wand pressed against her chest as tears sprung to the corners of her eyes as a single word slipped from her mouth.

"Viktor…"

The woman beside her snapped her gaze to Hermione. "This man is Viktor Krum? We saw the Vrasta Vulture emblem on his robes, but we could not identify him. Can you help him?"

Hermione looked at her coworker and spoke in a trembling tone. "I…I don't know. What curse was used on him?"

She listened intently to what was said before motioning for the other to leave her. It would be difficult enough to tackle her own emotions to her dying friend before her so that they did not interfere with healing him, but in her heart of hearts a vicious voice whispered that he was too far gone for her help. She tightened her hold on her wand and began to chant. She would help him; she would honor the oath she had taken six months before during her induction into this profession.

He would not die on her watch. Spell after spell slipped from betwixt her lips, to the point where she lost track of what was said as her body took full control. With her mind constantly thinking of the what ifs, she very well might loose him in at the most crucial time. She suddenly snapped back and looked down in surprise. She felt like a few brief seconds had gone by since she began, but those livid slashes across Viktor's cheeks had disappear and the wet sound in his breathing also had faded.

Although it strictly was not in procedure, she shoved her wand into a pocket and ran her hands along his chest. Nothing pressed against her palms at awkward angles, only the familiar bumps of his ribcage forming its natural protective bubble around his heart and lungs. She let out a shaky sigh and with a simple tap of her finger on the hovering table, it shot off towards an exit, taking her Viktor to a room where he could recover fully.

Hermione slid into a chair in the one of the break rooms of St. Mungo's, cradling her head in her hands. A fierce pounding had taken root at her temples and the base of her skull and she wanted nothing more than to apparate home to crawl into her bed in a very dark room. Somebody pushed a cup of tepid tea across the table to her and she took it gratefully, not particularly minding the lukewarm temperature. The overly sweetened liquid lent a feeble strength to her tired body and she sighed heavily into her mug. She considered folding her arms on the desk and burying her head in them to catch a few minutes of sleep, when a conversation behind her caught her attention.

"…appeared at their practice, or so I heard."

"But why would someone want to attack the Vrasta Vultures? Especially when they are on English soil for the World Cup?"

"Who knows? Nobody has a clue why those crazy sods choose to assail the people they do. I mean, perhaps one of the players upset a Death Eater at some point in their life? Anything could be used as a reason."

"They must have been so surprised, if their injuries are anything to go by. Do you know if any of the players were killed?"

"Strangely enough, no. None of the team were murdered, but several of the spectators were. I think, actually, that the stadium they were practicing in exploded and the only reason the players did not get destroyed was because they were flying…"

Hermione promptly stood up, forgetting her tea in a moment. She did not want to hear anymore about the attack, the very idea that Viktor was almost killed made her stomach roll. The loud screech of the legs of her chair scraping against the floor brought a still quiet to the room and all eyes were on her as she fled the room. There was only one place she could go to calm her sudden fears and for a moment she was extremely glad for the rumours that had been spread about her and the Bulgarian seeker.

She easily passed by the Aurors mulling about the recovering patient's rooms, though that might have been cause of the healer's insignia emblazoned upon the breast of her robes. She came close to bursting into tears when she saw him lying on the bed, his eyes closed and naturally light gold skin wan. She sunk into one of the uncomfortable chairs beside him, gently touching his cheek with her shaking fingers. A salty droplet slipped down her face as she sniffled quietly, unable to help herself. Relief like she had never felt before slammed into her as she watched his chest steadily rise and fall in time with his breathing, unable to believe something as simple as watching him fill his lungs could bring her such peace.

She had saved him; he would not pass on that day. She would be able to see him a little while longer before he went back to Bulgaria when the Quidditch season ended for the year. She did not bother to wipe her tears away, though she wished she had when his eyes fluttered open. He looked around in confusion until he saw her, a sense of recognition and relief warming his features. Her own breathing stopped for a moment as she recognized the new emotion in his dark hue, love.

"Hermione…"

A watery smile tugged at her lips, a peculiar feeling growing in her heart as she ripped her gaze away from that tantalizing glow on his countenance. "You're at St. Mungo's."

"Vhy?" She kept herself from weeping harder as he spoke, the fact that he would recover continuing to awe her.

"There was an attack, you and your team almost died."

"Are they okay?"

"Everyone survived, though the people in the stands didn't make it."

He merely nodded, clearly exhausted from his body's effort to return to homeostasis. She watched him with clear affection shining in her eyes as his own began to close once more. She smoothed the hair that had fallen across his forehead back, unconscious to what she was doing. He made a small noise in the back of her throat and she brushed her mouth against his brow, unable to help herself from touching him a little longer.

"Sleep Viktor, you are safe here. I'll come back and visit you against once my shift is over." She could not be sure if he heard her, for one glance at him told that he had fallen asleep once more.

She hastily brushed her tears away and began to walk towards the door, the alien emotion of hope blossoming in her broken, wounded soul. She had long since thought she stopped believing in knights in shining armor sweeping women off their feet, yet a part of her never gave up wishing. Perhaps someday it would finally be her turn to be saved.

What felt like days after she left, Hermione unlocked the door to her flat and walked inside. She dropped her purse on the coffee table and collapsed on the sofa, pressing her head into a pillow. Exhaustion ate at her and knew that she had over extended herself, used too much of her magic at one time. It happened from time to time when a vast number of wounded came into the hospital. She could not help it.

She would willingly give up all of her magic if she could help just one more person. She had been told numerous times by her supervisors that such a trait would get her into trouble one day, but that had yet to stop her. A pathetic mewling from the floor brought her face out of the cushion and she glowered down at her pet. The oversized ginger feline with a smooshed face stared up at her with pleading eyes and she growled at him.

"What do you want, cat? Can't you see I'm tired?"

He cried again before padding over to the window that stood above a small table, leaping upon it and scratching at the glass. She merely stared before groaning and pushing herself into a sitting position. She swung her feet onto the carpet, ignoring the patches of cream that held the faintest traces of a stain. She padded to the window and threw it open, a particularly irate owl swooping in. Crookshanks let out a happy meow and leapt off the table at the bird, catching a few of its tail feathers on his descent back to the ground. The owl squawked and Hermione got a scratch along the length of her arm when she tried to recover the letter it held in its mouth, its orange eyes glaring at her accusingly. There was no seal on the paper and she quickly unfolded it, a gasp escaping her upon reading its contents.

Hermione;

Upon finding out that I was leaving, I decided to write you. I've been given an assignment with Harry, though I can't tell you where because that is some seriously classified information and I could loose my job if I let anything leak. Anyway, we will be gone fore at least a month. I know how much you'll miss me. I'm sure I can trust you while I'm gone, right? I won't be disappointed when I return, will I? You'll be a good girl. Because, remember, I know about everything you do. You are mind and I will not tolerate anybody else touching you. If I hear, even from the secret place I am going, anything about doing something you know you shouldn't, I'll be back faster than one of Snape's poisons could work on you. Understand me? We go through this every time I go, but you never seem to get the message. Let's hope this time will be different, I wouldn't want to bruise your pretty face the moment we see each other again. That'd be sad, wouldn't it? Anyway, I don't have much time before I have to report back to Headquarters, so I'll end this. If you try anything, what I do to you will be unlike anything I've done before. You'll be lucky if you can move a week later.

Love,

Ron

A shudder ran through at his words and she dropped the parchment onto the table. He talked about seriously hurting her and ended his message with an endearment. He utterly terrified her and then told her that he loved her. Sometimes she could believe him, but when she got a glance at the twisted madness in his eyes as he hurt her, she knew that the Ron she could have loved with every bit of her had been smothered by the darkness clouding his soul.

She nervously rubbed her hands together and snatched the letter up from where she had discarded it. She quickly shoved it in the drawer that held the rest of their correspondence and a few magical pictures she had taken of herself the first time he had beaten her for when she prosecuted him for his deeds. She absently reminded herself that she needed to clear those out and burn them, for she knew that she could never win against him, nor did she have enough courage to make her abusive relationship public.

She pushed the drawer shut with her hip and suddenly remembered something. She rushed in her bedroom and after several minutes of frantic searching, found the object of her minor quest. As a bonus for working so hard, she had been given two complementary tickets to go see the Quidditch World Cup. She had not wanted to give the other ticket to Ron and now that he was gone, she was free to find someone else to accompany her. The first person who sprung to mind was Viktor, but the more sensitive part of her quietly chided her with the knowledge that he would playing in the game and it would be rather difficult from him to be in two places at once unless he had a time turner.

She reverently set the two stiff pieces of paper on her bedside table. A strange defiance had been growing within her the past few days, a need to disobey the harsh rules her boyfriend forced her to obey. She would go to the Cup and she would enjoy herself while he worked. She deserved a little break from the constant fear. She let out a soft sigh, before a slight smile brightened her face. She would visit Viktor and tell him of her plans. He would be pleased that she would be there watching him, cheering for him, worried for him.

A sensation of warmth spread through her soul as she saw his face in her mind, that emotion from earlier in the hospital room returning in a heartbeat. For once, Hermione Granger the Know-It-All of the Golden Trio did not have an immediate answer, even to a question she asked herself. Her rump connected sharply with the smooth sheets of her bed, her mouth set in a firm line. She viewed life as one enigma after another and this feeling in her heart was just another puzzle that she would solve. But whatever it was, she knew it was the key to her future.

Thanks for all the reviews, they make me so happy! Fiftieth review will be proclaimed with the update of the next chapter. As will the sixtieth if we make it that far. Please, everybody tell me what you think…

Blessed Be

Ame