So it begins...
Chapter 5
That night, she tested her floo by going to the Weasleys, where Ron had the tea waiting. No words were needed. His letter said it all.
"So, what's this I hear about your new cottage?" Harry asked.
She told them about the cottage and let Harry and Ron know that they would be her first dinner guests. "As soon as I get pots and pans to cook with, and plates to eat on. Mum's going with me this weekend to find all that stuff. I'm not even sleeping there yet, the mattress set isn't set to arrive until Wednesday."
Harry talked about some of the more interesting Auror cases and Ron talked about working in his brother's shop.
"What of you dear?" Molly asked.
"Just school stuff. My marks are good and it's fun seeing the younger ones learn in the classes I assist. That reminds me, guess who I saw today while getting a floo permit? Viktor!"
Everyone noted her blush when she said it.
"What's he doing in the floo permit office?" Ron asked.
"For his flat in Manchester. He's not playing quidditch in Bulgaria anymore."
"Did he quit?" Harry asked.
"No, he said his contract wasn't renewed. He taught flying and quidditch at Durmstrang until a team here in England signed him," she explained and told them about their earlier conversation.
"Too old? That's rubbish," Ron stated.
"Sooo, what team is he playing for?" Harry asked.
"Hm, that part didn't come up, I have no idea," she shrugged.
"Didn't come up? He's one of the premier players in the world, and it didn't come up?" Ron asked.
She shrugged. "Ron, I like watching quidditch, but I'm not a fanatic like you. I see Viktor the man first, you see a famous quidditch player first."
Ron daintily put his hand to his chest. "Oh, she sees Viktor the man first."
While she was at the Weasleys, a letter for her was delivered to the inn. The hotel desk clerk slid an envelope across the counter.
From Viktor!
Dearest Hermione-
I enjoyed seeing you today and it pleases me to see that you are happy. I would very much like to see you, only not at a Ministry for Magic office. Would you care to attend a quidditch match, then a meal with me after? There is a good place for pasta here in Manchester not far from my home. I eagerly await your answer. I also need to thank my mother for teaching me translation charms!
Dobro vecher, (Good evening)
Viktor Krum
She immediately sent an answer in the affirmative. The next day, a quidditch match ticket accompanied a brief letter. She was to show the ticket at the north end gate at the Manchester quidditch pitch for the 10 a.m. match Saturday morning. She sent a floo call to Ron to clarify the instructions.
"Ron, are you free?" she called out.
"Sure, come through."
"Viktor sent me match ticket for Saturday. Do you know where the Manchester pitch is?" she asked and handed him the ticket.
"The Manchester Mages?! Blimey Hermione, they're the newest team in ninety years! This is their first year! He's playing for them?" he asked.
She nodded.
"To be on a professional team, reserve or not, is fantastic. Reserve means that he could play. I'd be happy just to do their laundry."
Leave it to Ron to put things in their proper perspective.
"This ticket acts as a beacon for the pitch. You'll know what I'm talking about when you get to the spot in Manchester."
As the resident quidditch expert, she took his word for it and wished him a good night. Wednesday evening, her post box at the cottage found her mattress set delivered, shrunk to matchbox size. She really loved magic. After getting the bed to rights, she checked out of the inn to start life in her own cottage. Earlier in the week, Madame Rosmerta loaned her a pot, plate, and fork and she prepared a light dinner of toast, beans and fruit for her first supper in her own home. Friday at breakfast, weekend plans were made, and Hermione casually mentioned her plans in Manchester.
"What's going on in Manchester?" Dean asked.
He was from Manchester, so he would know if anything was going on.
"Quidditch match," Hermione answered.
"The Manchester Mages? How'd you get a ticket to that? They're impossible to get," Ginny noted.
Hermione quickly stuffed her mouth with toast. If she answered, she would be bombarded with questions and gossip. She looked around the table and saw everyone waiting for an answer.
"Someone gave me a ticket," she answered.
"Hermione, pardon me for saying so, but who would give you a ticket?" Ginny asked, then her eyes went wide. "Are you seeing someone on the team?"
She really is too smart for her own good, Hermione thought and said nothing.
"You are! Come on, who is it?" Ginny pleaded.
"Yeah Hermione, who?" Parvarti asked.
"Before I answer, let me say this; we aren't really seeing each other. I ran into him at the Ministry earlier this week, we talked, and he sent me a ticket."
"Wait, let me guess. One of the chasers?" Ginny asked.
Hermione shook her head.
"Beater?"
"No."
"Keeper?"
"No."
"Then it has to be the seeker, Devon Highwater."
"Highwater's married," Dean noted.
"Hermione, there's not a position left unless they invented a new position," Ginny teased.
"Is it the equipment guy? I mean, if you want to see the equipment guy, that's your business..."
Hermione tuned out Ginny's babbling and saw the grin on Dean's face. He figured it out.
"I read about his move in the paper. Be sure and give him a nice welcome to England, all right?" he said with a wink.
"Move?" Ginny asked and then choked on her juice. "Bloody hell, it's Viktor Krum!"
The table fell quiet and some younger students giggled. Let the gossip begin.
"You lucky hag!"
That night after supper, Professor Byatt watched Hermione say goodbye to her friends for the weekend. In what universe did I even think she would consider so much as a cup of tea with me?
The next morning she arrived in Manchester at nine a.m. and removed the ticket from her clutch. Ron was right, she could feel an abundance of magic at a point outside the city and knew where to go. She arrived at a pitch on the northwest outskirts of town and followed signs to the north entrance. She encountered a security wizard who examined her ticket.
"Welcome to today's match. When you enter the pitch, look to your left and take note of the blue lift." He tore off a small portion of the ticket and returned it to her. "Present this to the lift attendant, enjoy the match."
"Thanks, I will."
When the lift stopped at the top floor, she was ushered into the VIP section and paused.
Am I in the right place?!
Glass enclosed, temperature regulated luxury was the order of the day while enjoying the match. Waiters stood by to tend to their every want.
Ron would have wet his pants by now!
Others arrived, most of them formally dressed. She looked at herself in trousers and jumper and shrugged.
"Don't concern yourself, Miss Granger," an older wizard said and patted a seat sat next to him. "You look perfect just the way you are."
She took a seat. "Forgive me, but have we met?"
"No, but I was at the ceremony when you were awarded your Order of Merlin," he said and extended his hand. "James Crowder."
She returned the handshake. "Pleased to meet you. What shouldn't I concern myself with?"
He leaned closer and spoke in a lower tone. "The others here who come to a quidditch match dressed as they are. It's a game for Merlin's sake."
"Oh, I won't concern myself. I was surprised to get the ticket and had no idea that I would be in this section. However, when in Rome…" she said and signaled the waiter.
"Do you have elven wine?"
"Certainly miss, any particular vintage?" the waiter inquired.
"The Southern Woods vintage, if you have it," she replied.
The waiter nodded and left.
"Impressive, Miss Granger, most mages aren't aware of the different vintages for elven wine."
"Mr. Crowder, I don't want to come off as a wine snob, so I keep in mind what my dad says: the best wine is the one you're drinking. I usually just take whatever elven wine an establishment has, because there is no bad vintage. When asked however, the Southern Woods vintage is my favorite."
The waiter returned with the wine and the match started. Minutes into the match, Viktor paid a visit to the section in his quidditch kit.
"Dobro untro, Hermynee," he announced and sat next to her.
Everyone in the booth looked at them in surprise when he didn't seem to notice anyone else.
"I'm happy to see you," he said, placing a kiss on her hand.
"Good morning to you too. It was naughty to surprise me like this, but a good surprise," she said.
"Will you ever forgive me?" he teased.
"Hmm, that pasta you told me about will suffice," she replied.
Deafening cheers were heard when Manchester scored a goal.
"That was quick," she observed.
"What team is yours playing against?" She looked at an opposing player when he flew by and chuckled.
"Orange, has to be the Chudley Cannons." Ron really would have wet his pants by now!
"Their chasers vould be more evective with better training tekneek," he noted.
"I don't know about all that, I just like to watch," she said.
The crowd cheered for another Manchester goal.
"Is there a team vat you favor?" he asked.
"Not until today," she returned.
She saw two players flying close together, chasing the snitch as it weaved just in and out of their reach. She stood and watched the seekers.
"There, toward the midway line!" she called out, remembering how thrilling it was to watch Harry chase after the snitch. "Hey, it's gone!"
The crowd cheered again when another goal was made, then a minute later the crowd was collectively roaring when the seekers again spotted the snitch, Hermione included. The formally dressed wizards and witches watched the trousers and jumper clad young witch in disdainful silence, her cheering disrupting their tranquility. Mr. Crowder shook his head in equal disdain, because they obviously had no idea who she was. This lot was cemented in their own social strata without a care for anyone outside of it.
"Yay! Manchester won!" she exclaimed.
"Vell done, Devon," Viktor said.
"Excuse me Hermynee, I must go for now, but I vill be back soon for lunch."
He left and she continued conversation with Mr. Crowder.
"So Miss Granger, what does a war heroine do after a war?" he inquired.
"Finish school," she replied.
"Indeed?"
"Yes sir, 23 of us returned to Hogwarts to finish our education," she said.
"What are your career plans?" he asked.
"I honestly have no idea, which perplexes me. One of my friends is with the Aurors and my other friend works with his brother. Neither of them returned to school, but they're doing fine. I'm sure I could do fine without NEWTs, but not the kind of career that would truly challenge me, keep me happy."
"What are you interested in?" he asked.
"Research or education," she answered.
"What is your strong area?"
"Research and charms-" she started until Viktor returned.
"Excuse the interruption sir, but I have a lunch with the pretty lady," Viktor said.
Mr. Crowder stood and shook Hermione's hand. "It was nice to meet you sir."
"The pleasure was all mine. I wish you all the best with your studies."
The two young people left the VIP section. Hermione had no idea that she had impressed one of the masters of The Mage Guild. Master Crowder had some inquiries to make, first to his old friend and fellow Transfiguration master, Minerva McGonagall.
The Mage Guild was one of the oldest magical organizations, rumored to have been formed by Merlin himself. The purpose of the guild was to have masters of all magical disciplines working together for research, experimentation, consulting, and education for the advancement and betterment of their world. Each master had a group of witches and witches under them, working to master their chosen discipline while performing the work of the guild. Ministries of Magic worldwide consulted the guild, and only the best and brightest were recruited for employment.
"I'll have the shrimp fettucini," Hermione said to the waiter.
She looked around the cozy, muggle family-run restaurant.
"This was the first place I ate when I came to live in Manchester. I eat here much."
"Not much for cooking?" Hermione asked, taking a bite of salad.
"I try, but lack the skill. Howefer, I do make good coffee and sandvich."
"A soldier's diet, as my dad says," she said and winked.
"What are your parent's professions?" he inquired.
"Dentists."
"Teeth healers, both?"
"Yes, they have a clinic. What of yours?"
"Father is part of a group that hunts dangerous creatures, vampires and such. Mother is a private tutor."
"What took you on the quidditch path?" she asked.
"A vampire," he quipped.
"That's curious," she hinted.
"Perhaps, vould you care to hear the tale?"
She rested her chin in her hand and nodded. She loved to hear him talk, as his accent and warm tone was soothing to her. He took a sip of wine and began.
"Vhen I was a child, seven perhaps, I became fascinated with creatures that could fly, vampires mostly, who can fly without brooms. A vampire associate of my father vas the first to take my feet off the ground."
"A vampire associate?" she asked incredulously.
"Yes, your surprise is amusing, pretty one. Not all vampires are dark, you must know that. In fact, they are angered and embarrassed at actions of the dark ones and velcome the assistance of the-" he stopped and thought to translate the words, "Night-vatch to hunt the dark ones."
"And your father is part of this Nightwatch?"
"He is, and one evening a vampire associate of his noticed how excited I became to see a person fly, so he took me in his arms and off ve vent. The next day I begged for a broom or to be turned so I could fly," he said, chuckling at the memory of his mother's expression about asking to be turned vampire.
"So here I am, flying."
"I tried to fly, I really did, but it seems that brooms and I have a hate-hate relationship," she said.
"Perhaps you were not instructed correctly."
She shrugged and made to defend Madame Hooch but hesitated, remembering the flying teacher's words the day she fell from her broom first year. Miss Granger, any witch or wizard worth their salt can fly, then the hateful words from Malfoy that followed. After that and much teasing from Ron over the years because of her inability, she lost interest altogether.
"I have a thing with heights," she explained.
"A thing?" he asked, not quite sure what she was talking about. He knew he would be getting a course in English language education from her.
"A phobia, but I hate to call it that, it sounds mental. An aversion is more like it."
"That is not so odd, many fear being high."
"That's the thing, I hate being afraid of anything, but I don't know how to get past it."
"Perhaps we can work on it, together," he offered and squeezed her hand.
After a delicious tiramasu, she agreed to dinner the next Friday. There was no hesitation from either of them upon sharing a gentle good-bye kiss, which both saw as a hope of things to come. She was attracted to him, and from what she could tell, he was attracted to her as well. Full steam ahead, captain.
She met with her mother later that afternoon, making the rounds of Harrods, Marks and Spencer, John Lewis, and Debenhams. They ate dinner at Satsumi and chatted.
"Next time I go shopping, I'm taking you with me," Evie said, "that thing you do to make things weightless is priceless."
"It saved my life in the past," Hermione said. "I like the convenience, these dishes are heavy."
"So, are you going to tell me about your lunch date? You actually went to a sporting event?"
"Do you remember the Yule Ball at Hogwarts, fourth year? My date for the ball?"
"Yes, I recall you asking for money for a gown."
"Well, it's him, the one I went to the ball with. He moved to Manchester from Bulgaria over the summer."
"So the two of you just picked up where you left off?" her mum teased.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Mum, I was fifteen, we never picked up anything. I can tell you this though; this is no casual thing like Brent. Viktor's not into casual, I can tell. I like him and I want to see where this goes with him. He's not like any man I know and I love the way I feel around him. God, how I must sound."
"So, when can we meet him?" Evie asked.
"I'll have to get back with you on that one, mum."