Waiting For You
Thank you to all those who reviewed! I gotta give a personal 'shout out' to my most faithful reviewers…I'm so glad you found me once again. Paulalou, Jenulus, Kelly Marie, Angelic One…it's like seeing old friends after a long time to see your names in my review box. I get a really big grin and act completely silly for a few seconds, then flush from your words of praise. I'm so glad you guys are sticking out another story. I really like this idea, no matter how hard it's been to get it out onto paper (well, the internet). Pretty much the idea came to me because I had like five little stories I wanted to tell, but you guys know me. Short just doesn't work. So I decided to stick them all together as a progression story and see how it works. Hope you like it! Thank you to everyone again for taking time out to review. They mean a lot to me, as do you.
Chapter 2 – A Place To Rest My Head
"Hermione, I promise, just a little longer and you can rest."
Harry's words reached her through a thick haze that had taken up almost permanent residence in her brain. She nodded dully, wincing at the pain that shot through her skull at the small movement.
She didn't think she'd ever felt so terrible in all her life. Her vision was blurry and she couldn't seem to keep herself walking in a straight line for more than a few minutes. Harry and Ron had been flanking her for the last half-hour, making sure that in her fever she didn't take a less than graceful nosedive directly into the mud.
The cold she'd caught over a month ago had proven to be quite unshakable, and without being able to pop into a healer's clinic or hospital, the cold had turned into a severe case of walking pneumonia. Harry and Ron had done everything they could to try and heal her themselves, but it seemed as if it was beyond their skills. They couldn't even stop anywhere for proper medicine, since they had, for the past four months, been keeping an extremely low profile.
It also didn't help that they'd taken to sleeping in drafty caves, out-of-the-way huts and abandoned houses. Their accommodations had deteriorated with time due to news from home that the Death Eaters were now aware of their purpose, and they had all agreed that staying in hotels or rented rooms were no longer options.
Hermione groaned as she thought of the last time she'd slept in a proper bed, equipped with fluffy pillows and warm, dry blankets. They sounded like absolute heaven right now, and as a coughing fit seized her, racking her body uncontrollably, she closed her eyes and prayed that wherever Harry was leading them had hot water to boot.
She opened her eyes a moment later and saw a look of concern shoot between Harry and Ron. Harry pulled his own cloak off and quickly draped it across Hermione's shoulders, eliciting a very weak smile from her at his thoughtfulness. Ron's hand moved to the small of her back, holding her as straight as he could without making her uncomfortable. Even through the haze invading her brain she could still feel the warmth radiating from the nearness of him.
"This is insane," she heard Ron grumble as she turned away from him to sneeze into her last clean handkerchief. "You're too sick to go any further. Where in blazes are we headed anyway, Harry?"
Harry consulted a piece of parchment he'd pulled from his pocket for a moment, squinting in the low light provided from the setting October sun. "Just up ahead there should be a fork in the path, and we stick to the right. After that, we only have about another five minute walk, tops." His eyes flickered to Hermione, searching her weary face to see if she could handle it. "Feeling up to a bit more, Hermione?" he asked lightly, although the anxiousness he tried to keep out of his tone slipped in nonetheless.
"I'm fine," she said, feeling nothing of the sort. She couldn't let them down, though. It had been a long journey, and none of them were exactly operating at full potential. Harry's left arm was almost completely covered in long, badly healing scrapes and scratches – courtesy of a particularly nasty fight with a herd of Warblings in the dark forest of a small city in northern Spain. That had been when he'd found their third horcrux, so in the end it had been worth it, but Harry was still favoring the arm to the point where Hermione was sure it was infected.
Ron had not fared any better. He'd broken his ankle during the same trip, but that had been something Hermione had known how to fix. It still bothered him when the weather turned cold and rainy, though, and there was a fierce gash on the side of his neck that refused to heal properly.
Hermione took a quick moment to look over both of the boys, and an overwhelming sadness swept through her. None of them should have to be dealing with any of this, but here they were. Battered, bruised, cold, hungry and tired…searching for the very last of the horcruxes that they needed to destroy.
If there was one bright spot in all of this, that would have to be it. Their journey was almost over; she could feel it. They would find the last piece and be able to go home for some real rest. She couldn't wait to see her parents again, Ginny, the twins…
Looking over at Harry, she felt another wave of sadness as she remembered Ginny's last letter to them. Harry's face as Hermione had read it aloud was painful to watch. He had stared at her as she read, almost as if he could see Ginny if he concentrated hard enough.
"You're not fine," Ron said, interrupting her thoughts. "You haven't eaten properly in over two days, and you haven't slept through the night in over four."
"I just need to sit still for a day or two, and I'll be back to my normal self," she said, attempting to smile reassuringly at him. He grunted again, although his arm moved from the small of her back to the side of her waist, giving her more of his body heat in the process.
"I know you're going to bite my head off again," said Harry, shooting her a look out of the corner of his eye, "but I still say that you should go home –"
"And I've told you that's not an option," she interrupted firmly. "So you can stop bringing it up."
Harry and Ron shared another look, but this time it wasn't out of concern. This look clearly stated that they thought she was mental, and the most stubborn person they'd ever met. She didn't care, though. They could think whatever they wanted, as long as they weren't packing her up and sending her home – or worse, abandoning her in the middle of the night for her 'own good'.
"Now you're sure this old wizard is going to come through with the information," Ron said to Harry, changing the subject as he always did when Harry brought up Hermione going home. "Lupin checked him out and everything?"
"I got his owl a week ago," answered Harry, tucking the parchment he'd been holding back into his pocket. "He said this Ivan Rotovski is practically a legend in the artifacts world over here. If anyone can follow up on the lead we have, it's him."
Ron nodded, then looked about suddenly as if realizing something for the first time. "And where exactly is 'over here' Harry? The last I remember, we were in Switzerland."
Hermione tried to cut through the haze in her brain long enough to focus on their conversation. She'd been drifting in and out since fending off Harry's hundredth request for her to return home, and now she looked around them as well. She understood Ron's confusion well; they had been to so many places in the past year that they were all starting to blend together into one long road that didn't seem to have an end.
Harry looked uncomfortable for a moment, then coughed and muttered something unintelligible under his breath.
"What was that?" Ron asked.
"I, uh – I said, we're in Bulgaria," replied Harry, busying himself by reaching into his pocket for the piece of parchment again.
Hermione almost tripped over her own feet when Ron stopped walking abruptly.
"Sorry," he said quickly, righting her before she could move too far from his side. His gaze swung to Harry, who was still not looking at him. "Did you say Bulgaria?" he asked, his tone laced with tension.
Harry nodded, finally meeting his eyes. "This Rotovski fellow lives about twenty miles from here. I just figured with Hermione being as sick as she is, we needed to go somewhere where we could lay low for a few days while she gets stronger."
Ron gaped at Harry, silent accusation shining in his narrowed eyes. "And just where are we going to lay low, then?"
"Viktor Krum's house," Harry said simply, squaring his shoulders as if he expected an onslaught from Ron in the next instant.
Hermione felt the thick fuzziness leave her brain long enough to comprehend Harry's words. "We're going to Viktor's?" she asked, her whole body reacting to the idea. It was not out of any lingering feelings or affections that she suddenly felt relieved; she just knew that at Viktor's they would be safe and well looked-after. She could almost feel the soft bedding against her skin as she spoke.
Ron's eyes snapped to hers, and he didn't look pleased. She hadn't meant to sound so breathy and hopeful…she was just glad to know they'd be somewhere warm very, very soon, is all.
"I owled him after I received Lupin's letter," explained Harry, not looking the least bit apologetic any longer. "You were already so sick, and I knew that we needed to go somewhere to get some rest for a while. He got back to me a couple of days ago, and we're welcome to stay as long as we want."
"I'm sure we are," muttered Ron, looking thoroughly put out. His eyes were still on Hermione, and she was too tired to raise her usual objections to his completely irrational behavior as far as Viktor was concerned.
"Ron, we all need a bit of a break, and if Viktor's willing to house us for a few days, I say it's some of the best luck we've had in a long while," Harry said, shooting a quick glance at Hermione before meeting Ron's fierce gaze.
Ron remained silent for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face. Then, straightening his own shoulders and giving Hermione a small smile, he resumed his pace. "Then I say let's get going so we can be there before supper."
Hermione felt herself being guided along by his arm once more, although now she was so close against him that she was afraid she'd step on his feet with every step. She tried hard to keep all thoughts out of her mind, since it hurt so much as it was…but they intruded regardless.
She'd be seeing Viktor again, and she was not so blind or stupid that she didn't see how uncomfortable Ron was with the notion.
She couldn't worry about any of that right now. Things were too serious anyway to think that this visit would be anything but a repast so they could get stronger for the last part of their search. Besides, who was to say that Viktor had anything but friendly thoughts for her after all this time? Why worry about things that might not even be?
As they came to the fork in the path that Harry had mentioned earlier, Hermione could see a rather large looking estate standing darkly in the distance.
"House?" Ron growled, staring moodily ahead at the towering architecture. "That's a bloody castle."
Harry pocketed the parchment once more and squeezed Hermione's elbow in support. "We'll be there in a few minutes, alright?" he asked, nodding encouragingly and continuing his former pace on the path.
"Sounds good to me," she replied wearily, earning her a quick look from Ron, his tense glare sliding away as if it had never been there in the first place.
"C'mon," he said, moving them forward behind Harry. "And once we get there, you're going straight to bed. No reunions tonight."
"Whatever you say," she said thickly, feeling the lightheadedness overwhelming her once more. Now that they were so close to their destination, her legs felt as if they were made of lead and her chest ached with the chill that had slipped into the night air.
By the time they reached the massive oak doors of Viktor's home, she was ready to sleep clear until next week. She watched through glassy eyes as Harry pulled on the thick, golden rope to the right of the door, and heard the chimes he'd set off from what seemed like an impossible distance away.
She swayed a bit on her feet, but didn't get too far since Ron was still positioned solidly up against her side. She turned and gave him a grateful smile, and found him already looking at her with a guarded expression in his eyes.
In the next instant, the doors were pulled open from the inside, and seconds later she found her gaze traveling from Ron's face to that of the first boy she'd ever kissed. Her first thought was that she must look a fright, her hair tangled and messy, her face streaked with dirt and her clothes torn and shoddy looking from the intense wear and tear of their travels.
Her next thought was that Viktor was no longer a boy. His face had matured into a quiet strength that suited him, and judging from the wide smile on his face, he was happy to see them. To see her.
The smile quickly faded when his eyes had taken in their appearances, and as his gaze met hers with intense concern shining in their dark depths, she felt all of the strength she possessed flee from her in one, powerful movement. Thought tumbled over thought, her vision swam dangerously, and then she knew no more.
Her dreams were riddled with visions of chaos and destruction, as they had been for the last several months. No matter how hard she tried to fight them off, they came still – robbing her of any true rest. From somewhere outside herself, she could hear her own cries and could see her own thrashing about. One minute she was freezing, pulling the heavy blankets as tightly around her as she could, and the next minute she was kicking them off passionately, feeling trapped and as if she was burning slowly from the inside out.
There were several times she was sure she had woken briefly, always seeing Ron or Harry sitting in a chair across the room. Their constant presence soothed her back into a restless sleep, and although she couldn't be sure they stayed, somehow she knew they did.
Finally, once she'd given up hope of ever having a decent sleep again, she fell blissfully into a deep unconsciousness that had neither visions nor dreams. She became completely unaware of anything surrounding her, and although she still felt a bit cold from time to time, her brain had finally registered that she was safe. She allowed the sensation to overtake her, and once again, she knew nothing else but the softness of the pillows surrounding her head.
The first thing she became fully aware of was warm sunlight falling onto her face. She struggled to open her eyes, and was surprised at once by the lavishness of the room she'd been placed in. It was roughly the size of the entire dormitory at Hogwarts, and was furnished carefully with antiques.
She pushed herself into a sitting position, aware that for the first time in over a month her chest did not ache when she breathed. It was such an exhilarating feeling that she breathed in again, deeply, and rejoiced when she remained ache-free. She smiled, pushing her hair out of her eyes and glancing out the large windows across from her bed to see a very blue sky blanketing the outside world.
"Now that's much better."
She turned to the doorway at the sound and smiled again when she saw Viktor leaning against the doorframe. "Hello, Viktor."
"Hello, Hermione," he said gently, as if he spoke any louder she would break into a million pieces. "I can't tell you how good it is to see you smile. You gave us all quite a scare a few nights ago."
"A few nights?" she asked, incredulously. "Just how long have I been asleep?"
"Three," Viktor answered, his eyes flashing briefly. "For a while there, we thought we'd have to take you to the hospital whether it exposed all of you or not. Harry was absolutely beside himself over the whole situation."
Hermione sighed and moved the pillows behind her so she'd be propped up. "Harry worries too much. I'm a tough girl…all I needed was some rest."
"That's what Ron told him," Viktor said, smiling. "And I quite agree. We both knew that you'd never forgive yourself if someone were to find out you were here because they had to take you somewhere public. Besides," he added, crossing his arms over his chest. "I have a fully stocked medical library just downstairs. One of the necessities of a professional athlete."
She smiled again at him, then a sudden thought struck her. "You called me Hermione."
Viktor laughed, and the sound reverberated throughout the room. Hermione decided he had a very pleasant laugh, one that made her feel completely safe and warm. "Well, I suppose it's better than Herm-o-ninny, isn't it?" he asked, winking at her.
"I suppose so," she replied, laughing a bit in return. She was amazed to realize she could laugh and not have it start an intense coughing fit.
"I have gotten much practice with my English at my new job," he explained, finally stepping into the room and taking the chair next to the wall closer to her bed. "I do not play Quidditch any longer, since there is not much need for sports at the moment."
"Oh? What do you do now, then?" she asked.
"I work for the Department of International Cooperation," he explained, shrugging slightly. "Not very exciting, but they recruited me because of my, shall we say, high profile status."
"I suppose that's what you get for being a world-famous seeker."
Hermione turned toward the door again, this time at the sound of Ron's voice. He was leaning against the doorframe in much the same way Viktor had been moments ago, although there was no welcoming smile on his face. His eyes were trained steadily on Viktor, his hands jammed into his pockets.
"Good morning, Ron," Viktor said in greeting. "I trust you slept well."
"How could I not? Beats sleeping on cold, dirty floors," Ron replied in a tight voice. His eyes finally traveled over to Hermione, who could see the dark look leave his eyes almost instantly. "How are you feeling?"
"Much better," she said, smiling at him. "Really," she added when he didn't look quite convinced. "Look, I'm sitting up, and I can breathe properly…not a coughing fit or a sniffle to be had."
Ron's shoulders seemed to visibly relax before her eyes, and he nodded imperceptibly. "Good. You shouldn't push too hard or too fast, though. Take things slow."
"I won't get out of bed doctor," she said, straightening her covers. "Don't worry; I don't ever want to feel like that again."
Viktor smiled at her. "You are welcome here as long as it takes to get better," he said, rising out of his chair.
"I don't know how to thank you for all that you've done, Viktor," she said gratefully, pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Viktor continued to smile down at her and for a brief moment, Hermione thought he was going to take her hand. Her heart sped up crazily, knowing that Ron was watching every movement from the doorway, and she wasn't quite sure how she felt about that. True, a gesture like that could be considered friendly, but she knew Ron wouldn't see it that way.
"There is no need to thank me, Hermione," Viktor said, brushing off her comment. "We're friends, aren't we?"
For some reason, her eyes flashed quickly to Ron. He was standing completely still against the doorframe, watching her with a level gaze. Flustered, she turned back to Viktor and smiled up at him. "Of course we are."
"Well, I'm going to see to breakfast. Is there anything special you would like?" he asked, backing away from her bedside.
"Food?" she asked, her mind running over the last time she'd eaten anything. Her stomach growled in response, letting her know it had been much too long. "Anything would be fine, really."
"I'm going to have my cook prepare something special for you, but you are not to come down to eat today. I'll bring it up when it's ready," he said, reaching the doorway which Ron was still blocking.
"Actually, I'll bring it up," Ron said suddenly, pushing away from the doorframe. "Harry wanted to talk to you about the town Rotovski's living in…the layout, stuff like that."
Hermione could only look on as the two of them appeared to size each other up. Ron had about four inches of height on Viktor, but Viktor seemed to take up more space.
"Fine," said Viktor, turning to give her one last smile. "I'll check on you later, then."
Hermione returned his smile and watched as Viktor excused himself past Ron, who didn't seem to step aside enough to give him proper space to exit the room. Once Viktor had gone, Ron turned his attention back to her.
"Are you really feeling alright?" he asked, concern evident in his voice. Hermione wondered, not for the first time, at the complexity of Ronald Weasley. One minute he was staring daggers into someone from across a room, and the next he looked as if everything rested on her reply to his simple question.
"I'm really feeling alright," she assured him. "I guess that's what three days of sleep will do to a person."
He huffed and removed his hands from his pockets, crossing the room to the chair Viktor had vacated. "You scared the hell out of us, you know," he said, his voice dropping considerably. "At first you wouldn't wake up, then you wouldn't go back to sleep, and it was only after about the tenth round of potion that you didn't thrash about whenever you closed your eyes."
"Sorry," she said quietly, seeing the severe look cross his features. "It must have been the fever."
"Well, you don't have one any longer, so that means you're on your way back," he said, his eyes scanning over her face quickly. "You look better than you have in months."
"Thanks," she said lightly, sarcastically. "You know just what to say to a girl."
"No, I didn't mean it like –"
"I was kidding, Ron," she said, giggling at the horrified look on his face. "But I'm sure you're right either way. I must look a sight." Her hands moved up to her hair, and she winced when they landed upon matted, knotty patches on the top of her head.
Ron reached up and removed her hands from her head, placing them on her lap. "I say you've never looked better," he said resolutely, giving her hands a squeeze before releasing them.
"Liar," she said, smiling at him.
"Hey, you're awake and you're getting better. I wouldn't care if your nose was clear on the other side of your head at this point," he said.
"Still, I want to take a bath in the worst way," she said, almost able to feel the hot, soapy water as she lay there. "Is there a bathroom on this floor?"
Ron grunted, rolling his eyes. "On the floor? There's practically one in every room," he said, gesturing to a door next to the main one. "It seems your friend Viktor is doing quite well for himself."
Hermione could hear the irritation in his voice, and although she understood where it was coming from, she didn't want to deal with any tensions between the two of them just yet as far as Viktor was concerned. She didn't have that kind of strength.
"Our friend, Ron. He's helping us all out here," she reasoned, giving him a pointed look. Ron, to his credit, didn't say anything in return, but he did get out of his chair all the same.
"Well, I'll leave you to it then," he said, looking everywhere else but at her. "Need any help getting out of bed or anything?"
"No, I'll be fine," she said, hating the thought of getting out of the warm bed, but knowing that after a bath the world would seem like a completely different place.
"Right. So I'll give you about an hour, and then I'll bring up breakfast," he said, walking toward the door. "Maybe I'll bring mine up too. Give you some company."
"Thanks," she said, wondering if he was going to ask Harry to join them. Her pulse sped up when she thought of sharing a quiet meal with just Ron, sitting on her bed…
"Well, get to it Granger," he said, gesturing toward the bathroom door. "It'll be nice to see your face again, assuming it's still there under that layer of dirt."
She reached behind her to grab a pillow, then realized she didn't have the strength to straighten it much less toss it. He grinned at her and closed the door behind him as he left, leaving her with a funny ache deep in her stomach and she couldn't decide whether it was from her hunger, or the memory of his smile.
The next night she finally felt strong enough, or restless enough, to join them downstairs. She was bored, and although her three caretakers had kept up a steady stream of visits, she longed to leave the confines of the room.
She made her way down the large, winding staircase at suppertime, marveling once again at the expanse of Viktor's home. It seemed a bit much for someone who lived on his own, but she assumed that he'd never want for money from his Quidditch playing days.
As soon as she'd reached the bottom of the stairs leading into the main foyer, she saw Viktor emerge from a door to her right. He smiled in greeting at her and crossed over to her quickly.
"Are you ready for your first supper out of bed?" he asked, gesturing toward a long hallway.
"More than ready," she said, returning his smile and walking in pace with him down the dimly lit corridor. "I must say, Viktor, you've made quite a home for yourself here."
"They are just things," he said nonchalantly, shrugging as if his surroundings were of no consequence. "But thank you."
They reached a set of large, gilded doors and Viktor stopped in front of them. "You are feeling better, then?" he asked, looking over her with a practiced eye.
"Thanks to you," she said, lowering her gaze from his. For some reason, she felt suddenly shy and self-conscious. Perhaps it was the relative darkness of the hallway, or the way in which his eyes slid over her features…either way, it created a sort of intimacy which she was not quite prepared for. It was far from an unpleasant feeling, and it brought back memories from when they'd first met.
He'd been the first person to ever look at her as a girl; to see past the bookish, bossy know-it-all everyone thought her to be. He'd lavished attention onto her and made her feel special in a way that had been her awakening of sorts.
Now, standing here with him, she felt a wave of affection wash over her. Her stomach did a little flip as she finally raised her eyes to his and saw him watching her closely. His hand came up slowly, and she watched in mild fascination as he touched her forehead gently.
"No sign of the fever any more," he said quietly, his voice creating more of the feeling of intimacy she'd felt upon entering the hall. "Your face is as lovely as it ever was."
His hand remained against her skin, brushing lightly over her forehead and down the side of her face. She remained rooted to the spot, unable to breathe properly or form a coherent thought.
She heard footsteps down the corridor and quickly snapped back to the present moment. Her eyes darted down the long passageway, and she saw Harry and Ron come into view, chatting quietly to each other. They both stopped, however, when they saw Viktor and Hermione standing huddled close together in the low light given off by the wall scones.
Hermione's eyes instantly focused on Ron, who looked as if he had become victim to a particularly powerful leg-locker curse. She saw his hands clench into tight fists at his sides, and before she knew what she was doing, she stepped away from Viktor to give the appearance of personal space.
Harry stood in silence by Ron's side, his quizzical gaze also fixed on her face. He seemed to be asking her a wordless question, one that she didn't feel prepared to answer in the slightest. He broke their eye contact a moment later, clearing his throat and continuing down the hall toward them. Ron, however, remained where he stood.
"Supper ready?" Harry asked as he approached them. Viktor nodded, opening the intricate doors and ushering Harry inside. With one last look at Hermione, he entered the dining hall behind Harry. Hermione stood completely still, her gaze now focused directly on the floor in front of her feet.
"Looks like you're all better," said Ron finally, moving with slow, deliberate steps toward her. "Your face is positively glowing."
"I –" she began, then stopped abruptly. She had no idea what it was she wanted to say to him. The silence stretched between them uncomfortably, in which Ron did his best to stare clear through her as she stood propped against the wall.
"A bit flustered?" he asked, a slightly cold edge to his voice. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll feel better after the five course meal Viktor's personal chef cooked up for us." His eyes flashed dangerously as he stepped by her. "It seems there's nothing Viktor goes without around here. Privileged life and all that."
Hermione sighed heavily as Ron swooped past her. She could almost feel his anger radiating off of his skin. She stared after him, her thoughts a jumbled mass of confusion, and suddenly, through all of the questions and uncertainty, she felt a swift wave of her own anger.
Why should she feel bad about standing in a hallway with Viktor? Why should she feel guilty that she'd enjoyed his gentle attention and his obvious concern? There was nothing wrong with what was happening, and although she knew that there were unsettled things between her and Ron, was she really supposed to turn a cold shoulder to Viktor when he was being so attentive and sweet?
She let the thoughts empty from her head as she made her way into the dining hall. She didn't want to think about any of that right now. Right now, she wanted to enjoy the first meal she'd eaten out of bed in several days.
She took the seat to Viktor's left, and found herself staring across the table directly into Ron's darkening eyes. Harry busied himself with his napkin, ostensibly staying out of the entire mess.
"I hope you like roast duck and potatoes," Viktor said, reaching forward to uncover one of the silver platters. "It's the chef's specialty."
"Personally, I feel roast duck has gone out of fashion," said Ron, adopting a snobbish tone and a raise to his brow that Hermione knew for a fact was entirely for her benefit. "I've eaten it so often I'm not sure I could endure it one more night."
Hermione scowled at him, tossing her napkin into her lap. She didn't care if he was mad at her or not, but to behave so childishly to Viktor when all he'd done so far was help them…
Viktor appeared unfazed by Ron's obvious attitude. "Well, then I'm glad I had the chef prepare a chicken as well. That way, everyone gets what they want."
Ron muttered something under his breath, which Viktor pointedly ignored, and they began their meal. Harry looked as if he would rather be anywhere else but where he was, and he kept glancing at his wristwatch as if he had somewhere of consequence to be very shortly. Hermione also ate in silence, never raising her eyes much further than the edge of her plate.
"So, Harry…did you get in touch with Rotovski?" Viktor asked, filling his goblet with a very dark wine from a glass decanter. "I saw your owl leaving early this morning."
"I heard back from him after lunch," said Harry. "He says he wants to meet tomorrow at a pub outside of Vlascow."
Hermione finally looked up from her plate at the announcement. "You didn't tell me that when you came up before dinner," she said.
Harry shrugged, but lowered his eyes all the same. "Well, I don't think you'll be ready to go out again so soon after getting better…it just didn't occur to me to bring it up."
Hermione's lips drew into a thin line as she stared him down. "Don't you think I should be the one to say whether or not I'm ready for something?" she asked tightly.
"Hermione, you were in and out of consciousness for three days. Tonight's the first night you've gotten out of bed. I don't think it's terrible of me to want you to get a few more days of rest before we have to head out again," Harry argued lightly.
She had to wring her napkin in her lap to keep her temper under control. He wasn't being terrible. He was just being overprotective, as he always was. He really did have her best interests at heart, and a few more days of rest is certainly what she'd request if he'd been the one who had taken up with a fever.
Still, she didn't want to be excluded. She'd had several nightmares along those lines ever since they'd started their search together…Harry and Ron sneaking off in the middle of the night to continue alone, leaving her behind so she would be safe…
"Harry's right," Ron chimed in, pinning her with his own gaze. "You're still on the mend, and it's only a meeting. We're going to tell you everything when we get back anyway. Why chance going out in this weather sooner than you have to?"
They were both right, but she hated admitting defeat. More than that, she hated thinking that something would happen to them before they got back, and she wouldn't have been there, right beside them.
"Fine," she said finally, picking up her fork again. "But I want a full report. I don't want you keeping anything from me because you don't think I'm strong enough, or something equally as silly."
Harry smiled at her, and the conversation was effectively dropped. Hermione sighed resignedly, reaching for the decanter of wine. She gave Harry and Ron very pointed looks that practically dared one of them to say something about her drinking a glass while she was still getting over being sick, but to their credit, they remained silent on the subject. They even tilted their own glasses toward her when she offered to pour them some as well.
"I think you'll like this vintage," said Viktor, drawing Hermione's attention for the first time since their hallway encounter. She had gotten so used to it being the three of them over the last year that sometimes everyone else simply faded away.
"What is it?" she asked politely, examining the liquid through the thick crystal.
"A '47 French Noir," Viktor replied, refilling his own goblet. "My uncle travels extensively through France every year, and my cellar is full to bursting with bottles just like this."
Ron snorted into his goblet, earning him another scowl. "So you don't mind if we finish the lot of this, then?" he asked, grinning wryly and emptying the contents in one long gulp.
"Not at all," said Viktor, reaching to refill his glass. "Speaking of France, Hermione wrote me that your oldest brother married Fleur Delacour last summer."
"That he did," Ron replied, giving Hermione a quick look that clearly implied that she should have kept family business within the family.
"A happy occasion in not so happy times," Viktor mused, swirling the dark liquid around as he stared into it. "Please pass on my sincerest congratulations when you speak with them next."
Ron looked as if the last thing he wanted to do was respond to Viktor's kind gesture. Hermione fixed him with a look that she was sure he could feel even though he was no longer looking at her, and she silently urged him to do the right thing.
"Thank you," he said quickly, nodding once in Viktor's general direction. "I'll do that."
Hermione sighed, feeling some of the tension ease out of her shoulders. She didn't know how much longer she could sit at the table with the two of them and maintain her composure. Every word Viktor uttered, she checked over in her head to see if it was something Ron would find offense with. Every look Ron shot out of the corner of his eye, she glanced at Viktor to see if he noticed he was being glared at. It was becoming quite dizzying, and after drinking most of her wine, she felt an overwhelming desire to get up and clear her head.
"Hermione, you look pale," Viktor commented, studying her closely. "Are you feeling alright?"
"I'm fine," she replied, including Ron and Harry in her assuring look. "I think I may just need a bit of a walk. I've been so still for days that I can't seem to sit any longer."
"It's too cold to go out," said Ron, gesturing out the window behind her as if to prove his point. "You'll catch your death."
"What if I showed you my home?" offered Viktor, tossing his napkin on top of his plate. "You haven't had a chance to see anything of it besides your room, and I would very much like you to see the rest."
"I…uh, I suppose –" she stammered, looking first at Harry, who was of no help whatsoever. He was busy spearing a roasted potato onto his fork and moving it slowly about his plate with the obvious intention of staying as far out of this as he could while still remaining in the room.
Then she looked to Ron, although it was the last thing she wanted to do. Her eyes seemed drawn to him of their own accord…at all times, it seemed. He was watching her face closely, but she couldn't tell if he was angry or simply waiting to hear what her response would be.
Hermione fiddled with her napkin as it rested in her lap. She had to say something else soon, or she would look like a complete dolt. It was a simple question that required a simple answer, one that was asked with only the purest, hospitable intentions, and yet, she couldn't help feeling that so much more hinged on her answer.
"I promise I won't keep you up late," Viktor smiled, mistaking her pause. "We can stop the tour whenever you feel you've had enough."
"Of-of course," she said hastily, pushing up suddenly out of her chair. Her body felt as if it was too big for her skin, and she was likely to jump out of it if she sat any longer across from Ron's piercing gaze. "I'd love to see your home."
"Very well then," said Viktor, standing as well and gesturing ahead of him. "After you."
Hermione stepped past him into the hallway, refusing to look at Ron again before she left. She was only seeing the rest of the house, for pity's sake, not running off to marry the man. She had nothing whatsoever to be sorry for, or hesitant about. She was walking around the house that would be her recovery zone for the next few days…it was actually a wise choice. Familiarizing herself with her surroundings…
She kept repeating this to herself as Viktor led her away from the dining hall and back down the long corridor.
"I'm eager to show you my greenhouse," said Viktor, looking thoroughly pleased she'd agreed to the walk. "It is inside the main house, so we don't have to worry about the weather outside…and you'll have to forgive me in advance if I seem boastful of it."
"I'm sure it's lovely," said Hermione, forcing herself not to turn around and see if Ron had followed them out into the hallway. "What inspired you to have a greenhouse?"
Viktor smiled again, guiding her toward another hallway by putting his hand on the small of her back. "My time at Hogwarts, actually. I spent some time in the greenhouses on the grounds and I found it a peaceful reprieve from…well, everything."
"You mean your fan club," teased Hermione, feeling herself relaxing slightly at the memory of his awkwardness around the doting female population of Hogwarts. "A quiet place to go to escape hordes of autograph-seeking females."
"Sometimes," Viktor admitted, ducking his head slightly. "But I usually used the library for that sort of thing." He glanced quickly at her out of the corner of his eye. "I'm very thankful that I did, too."
Hermione felt herself blushing again, and wondered at his ability to make it seem as if a second hadn't passed since they'd last seen each other, instead of four years. She didn't quite know what to say to his sweet sentiment, so she ducked her own head and remained silent. She felt his hand on her back once more, this time guiding her to a set of doors that were very similar to the set outside the dining hall.
Viktor pushed them open, stepping aside so she could enter before him. She walked past him, thinking that she could get used to the chivalrous attentions of a true gentleman. In the next instant, however, all thoughts of chivalry were erased from her mind when she got her first glimpse of the magnificent greenhouse Viktor had constructed for himself.
"Oh my," she exclaimed quietly, not knowing where to turn her attention first. There were long rows of large, exotic looking plants that burst forth in every color she'd ever heard of…sweeping vines covering the walls and benches situated throughout the expansive room…a glittering night sky for a ceiling…
"Wait, is that –"
"An enchanted ceiling," Viktor finished for her, smiling at her obvious pleasure in the room. "I told you, I was quite impressed with Hogwarts during my stay there. The ceiling of the Great Hall was one of my favorite things about the school, and I figured the best place to have one would be in this room."
Hermione felt a tremendous tug in her chest as she stared enthralled at the glittering stars overhead. Hogwarts seemed very far away right now, not just in distance but in time and space as well. She had always loved going back to school, and despite Ron and Harry's assumptions it wasn't because of the work. Hogwarts had been her home away from home for so long that its absence was like a hole inside her that she couldn't fill.
"The ceiling was one of my favorite things, too," she said softly. "From the minute I was brought into the Great Hall as a first year…there was something about it that seemed more magical to me than anything else in the wizarding world."
"I take it you approve of my little hideaway?" Viktor said, coming over to join her. "It's the only spot in my whole house that I can think clearly sometimes."
"I love it, Viktor. It's very peaceful," she said, letting her fingers trail over a long vine spiraling over an enormous vase. "Thank you for showing me."
"I knew you would be the only person who could fully appreciate it," he said, giving her a shy smile.
Hermione smiled back, and followed his lead as he walked her once around the entire room. He explained all of the different plants with the enthusiasm and knowledge of a true herbologist, and she was impressed that he'd learned so much about his hobby. The care and attention he gave to the beautiful, living things was evident in their appearance and in his voice. She studied him almost as much as the plants as they toured the room, and found that he'd grown into an exceptional man in their time apart.
Once they'd circled the entire room, he led her to a bench nestled between two vibrant trees whose branches shimmered in waves and had the appearance of a waterfall. Hermione reached out to touch one of the branches, and to her utter amazement, found it to be, in fact, wet to the touch.
"What on Earth is this?" she asked, flustered as she pulled her hand back quickly.
"It's a Weeping Valecortia. They are extremely rare and only grow on the Myrian Islands. A few years ago I was playing over there and saw these in the main courtyard of their Minister," he said, sitting on the bench behind them. "I knew I had to have one."
Hermione sat next to him, her attention still focused on the incredible shimmering branches. "I don't think I've ever seen anything so beautiful."
"I quite agree."
Hermione felt the closeness of his body as acutely as she heard the drop in his tone. She turned slowly to face him and found his eyes on her. She tried to swallow the nervousness she suddenly felt and forced herself not to look away like a silly schoolgirl.
"Although I was not pleased with the circumstances surrounding your unexpected visit, I am glad that you are here," said Viktor, holding her gaze steadily. "I have missed you very much…more than I thought I would have."
"I've missed you too," she said, her hands twisting together in her lap. "It was nice writing to you all these years, but to be here, to see your home…"
"May I make a confession?" Viktor asked.
She nodded, her mind whirling dizzyingly. This night was making her feel things she hadn't felt in such a long time, from someone completely different than who usually made her feel this way.
"This greenhouse was built because it reminds me of the best time of my life. When I was at Hogwarts, with you…you are my favorite memory, Hermione," he said, pulling his gaze off her and looking shyly at the ground below his feet.
Hermione's heart began hammering so hard against her ribs that she was afraid it would burst from her chest. No one had ever said anything so sweet, so wonderful to her in her entire life. To be someone's favorite memory…
"Viktor, that's…I don't know what to say –" she stammered, finding it nearly impossible to form a coherent thought.
"You don't have to say anything. I promised myself that if I was ever fortunate enough to see you again, I would tell you how much our time together meant to me. How much it still means to me," he added, a small smile tugging at his mouth.
She looked around her, almost not believing that this was happening. Just a few days ago she was sleeping on a dirt floor of a hut somewhere in Switzerland, and now here she was, in this amazing place listening to this amazing man say the most amazing things.
Suddenly, the connection clicked into place. She and Viktor had shared their first kiss outside of the greenhouses after the Yule Ball in her fourth year. She had suggested a walk - after Ron had insulted Viktor and attacked his motives for taking her to the dance - in an effort to shake off the horrifying possibility that it was true in the slightest.
She'd had nothing to worry about. Viktor had taken her into his arms and kissed her gently, giving her the first kiss she'd always dreamed about. He had been a perfect gentleman, though, and had not attempted to kiss her again until he was given permission.
Her affection for him grew in one swift, fluid moment, making her see him through the eyes of a woman now instead of a girl. He was still looking at his feet, shuffling them slowly in the deep, rich grass.
"I think about our year together often, too," she admitted softly, finally. "You were the first person to treat me like a lady, and I have to admit, it felt wonderful."
Viktor's gaze snapped up to meet hers, and she smiled at him. "Being friends with two boys isn't easy, you know. They sometimes have difficulty seeing me as a girl – in their minds, I'm just one of them."
"They are blind fools, then," he said, reaching up to tuck a curl behind her ear. "You are lovely to the point of distraction."
Hermione felt the flush stain her cheeks before she could will it away. He had to stop talking like this, or she'd get very, very used to it.
"May I ask you something, Hermione?" he continued, a hesitant look entering his eyes.
Her brow raised in confusion. "Of course you can."
"Well, when I came to Hogwarts for the tournament, I had assumed you and Harry were a couple. You were always together and you spoke of him constantly…I made the mistake of thinking that meant you were together, although now that I think back on it, there was nothing romantic in the way you two behaved around each other," he explained, looking even more hesitant as he spoke.
"I don't hear a question in there," she teased lightly. "Are you trying to ask if we're a couple now?"
"No, it's obvious you are friends. The way he worried over you while you were sick is how I assume a brother would worry for his sister…" He paused for a moment, then continued, his gaze fixed to hers. "Ron, however, behaved quite differently."
If the entire ceiling were to come crashing down around her, she didn't think she'd be able to move. Viktor's words set her blood pounding in her veins and she dreaded the question she knew was coming.
"Is there something between you and Ron, Hermione?" Viktor asked finally, searching her face with his eyes for the answer before she'd even had time to think up a proper one. She squirmed uncomfortably on the bench, suddenly feeling hot and cold all at the same time.
"Why would you think that?" she asked, more to stall for time to compose an honest response than anything else.
Viktor shrugged, but his eyes never left her face. "He doesn't seem to like me very much, and every time I went up to your room to check on you, he was sitting on the edge of your bed, staring down at you as if he could make you well again by sheer will."
"We're friends. He was just worried about me," she reasoned, trying to believe her own words. Anything else would lead her into that complicated territory she'd sworn she would stay out of until this whole ordeal was over and they were safe, once and for all.
Viktor nodded slowly. "Yes, but that doesn't explain why he doesn't like when I look at you, or talk to you. I think he would have hit me if he had the chance tonight at dinner."
"He's very protective. You should have seen how he behaved when his little sister started dating…" she explained, thinking that at least this part was incredibly true.
Another nod from Viktor, and she removed her gaze from his. "Ron and I have a complicated friendship, but that is all it is." Again, she knew this was the truth. They were just friends. Neither had said anything differently, and even if they wanted more, they couldn't do anything about it now. They were traveling the world, searching for horcruxes, and when they returned home, there would be a war to plan for. There was no time for relationships and emotions and everything else that came with confessions and declarations.
"I must admit that I'm relieved to hear that," Viktor said softly, moving closer to her on the bench. "I know you are leaving in a few days, but I would like to see you again, and as often as I can."
Hermione's pulse began jumping again at his nearness. His hand was moving slowly toward hers, and when it finally made contact, she felt a jolt go through her skin that thrilled her to her very core.
Still, the harsh reality of her situation was pressing down on her, warning her to say something before he got the wrong idea.
"Viktor, as you said, we'll be leaving in a few days, and I don't know how long it's going to take to find what we're looking for. Then, even when we do find it, we have to return home and help Harry prepare for the final battle. We'll be in the middle of a war…I just don't see how I would be able to give my focus to anything else, no matter how much I might want to," she said quietly, thrilling in the way his thumb was drawing small circles on the top of her hand.
"Well then, perhaps we should appreciate what little time we do have together, without a war to fight or an evil wizard to defeat," he said, raising her hand to his lips and softly kissing it. He still looked incredibly shy, but she was getting used to the way his confidence pushed through his first instinct to remain quiet.
His eyes were now staring directly into hers, asking for permission in the same gentlemanly manner as they had four years ago. A soft smile came to her lips as she thought of how different it would be to kiss him now…
His head inclined toward hers, and she could hear her heartbeat thudding in her ears. As his face got closer and closer, she let her eyes slide closed, chasing all thoughts out of her mind. She deserved this one moment, as he had said, with no war, no evil wizards, no searching…she deserved to let his sweet words and his kind heart warm every dark space inside of her, allowing them to chase away all of the horrors she'd seen and was yet to see…
His lips touched hers softly, tentatively, and she allowed herself, for one brilliant moment, to enjoy the sensations coursing through her as his mouth moved gently over hers.
It only lasted for that one moment, however. All too soon, her rationality won the battle in her head. She couldn't let the kiss continue, no matter how much she wanted it to. It wasn't fair to him – or to her to let an attachment form now when she knew they wouldn't be seeing each other again for quite some time.
She pulled away quickly before she could change her mind. "Viktor, I can't. I'm sorry, but I just can't," she said sadly, hating herself a little for having to say it at all. She convinced herself that she was doing the right thing, however, and steeled herself against any objections he might raise.
He held himself completely still for a long moment, his eyes telling her that he would like to continue as much as she would. He surprised her, however, when he sighed lightly and smiled at her.
"I understand," he said, making her regret her choice now more than ever. "If you can't, you can't."
She nodded morosely, her hands twisting together again in her lap. "It's just that there's too much going on right now to –"
"There's no need for an explanation, Hermione," he interrupted gently. "When I said I understood, I meant it."
She looked into his eyes and saw that he was being completely sincere, and it made her chest ache to think about how wonderful he was and how stupid she must surely be to let him slip away.
"You have no idea how glad I am that Harry brought us here," she said quietly.
He smiled at her, rising off the bench and offering his hand.
"Actually, I do," he said, helping her up off the bench and folding her hand around his elbow securely. She felt the warm heat from the nearness of his body penetrate her defenses, and before she let herself succumb to her wayward thoughts, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek lightly.
"Thank you for everything, Viktor," she said, her voice slightly shaky from the effort it took to control her emotions. She wasn't simply thanking him for taking such good care of her. There was so much more he'd done for her that she needed to thank him for. Without him, she would have never known what it was like to be admired and appreciated.
And wanted…
He nodded, a small smile playing across his lips. "Now, Ms. Granger, I believe it's time I let you get some rest. I've kept you up entirely too late."
Viktor bid her goodnight at the corner of the east wing, heading off for the master bedroom on the main floor. Hermione stood for a long moment in the foyer, working over the details of the evening in her mind so she would have something to hold onto in the tiring days ahead. Sighing wearily, she turned to climb the stairs, but a low, flickering light caught her attention near the entrance to the west wing.
She crossed the marble floor and peered into the study, seeing a dying fire fighting to stay alive in the grate. Ron was sitting in front of it, staring intently into the ebbing flames. He was slung back against the cushions, somehow looking much smaller than she knew him to be.
For some reason, she didn't make her presence known. Maybe she thought he would start yelling at her for going off with Viktor, or maybe she just didn't want to have to justify anything right now. She wanted tonight to be her own personal business; something that she could keep for herself and herself alone.
Ron shifted almost imperceptibly in his chair, snapping her back to the moment and causing her to duck back a little further into the shadows of the doorway. He sighed wearily, running a hand over his face and back through his hair in a gesture that was all at once endearing and completely familiar.
She almost went into the room then, to ask him if he was alright. But somehow she knew that she was the reason he wasn't alright, and she didn't have an explanation or a solution for him. Not tonight.
She had pushed Viktor away because she'd wanted to stay clear and focused on the tasks ahead. If she went into this room, with Ron, she wouldn't be clear or focused. In fact, Ron had the singular ability to make her the most unclear and unfocused she was capable of becoming. It was best for all concerned if she just went upstairs and tried to pass the next few days as peaceably as she could.
She let her eyes travel once more toward the fire, finding his brooding gaze now smoldering as dimly as the dying flames. He remained like that for a long moment, then suddenly he sat up and tossed the remaining water in his glass into the grate.
"Sod it all," he grumbled, watching as the water sizzled and evaporated into nothing.
Hermione pushed away from the door and silently made her way upstairs to her room. Once she was safely inside, she closed the door quietly and leaned her forehead against the solid oak.
She wondered how it was possible that in a matter of days, three of which she wasn't even conscious for, she'd managed to mess things up so brilliantly.
Okay, there it is. Very hard chapter to write, I must say, especially the end. I never feel like I get Hermione down as well as I get Ron…but I think she was pretty decent here. I like thinking of Viktor as a possible suitor, and not some cardboard cutout that many stories I've read make him out to be. I really think that your first crush, your first kiss stays with you, and I always saw Hermione carrying a soft spot for him throughout her life. She doesn't suffer fools gladly, so once you're in her life, you're there to stay. I also didn't want there to be this big confrontation between Ron and Hermione regarding Viktor. It's sort of like, been there, done that. I think by now we all know R and Hr are meant for each other, so it's useless to beat it over the head. More goodies to come…the next chapter is going to be during the final battle of the war and a couple of people make an appearance. Get ready for a sad one, folks.
As always, thank you for honoring me with your time and your kind words. Hope everyone is happy and healthy.