Wrapping her Bulgaria scarf tightly around her neck, Hermione began the long walk out to Hagrid's hut. Brown, brittle leaves whipped through the air, carried in swirls and eddies as the wind gusted across the barren grounds. The weather had gotten bitter cold recently, and the frozen ground crunched beneath her every step. Each individual blade of grass was covered in a fine dusting of frost, sparkling before her in the morning air like tiny strands of tinsel.

It had barely been two minutes and already her fingers were getting cold. Blowing harshly into her cupped hands, she rubbed her palms together for some friction and warmth before shoving them back in her pockets. She'd meant to grab one of her blue-bell jars for added warmth but had entirely forgotten in her hurry. While she was more than proficient in casting warming charms, it still sometimes felt like cheating. And besides, they didn't help nearly enough in this kind of wind.

Glancing around the grounds, she saw a long line of students that, like her, were escaping the castle for the morning. Unlike her, they were all headed for Hogsmeade, where they'd warm themselves with beef stew and hot butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks before stuffing their pockets full of sweets and chocolates at Honeydukes. Based on the number of cloaks at even this chilly morning hour, she suspected the castle would soon be nearly empty. There was usually at least one Hogsmeade weekend in October to help the students blow off steam, but this year it had been postponed weeks, and it was obvious that the students were getting antsy confined to the drafty castle all day every day.

After a few more minutes of crunching her way across the grounds, she crested the small ridge leading down to Hagrid's hut. Smoke cheerily puffed from the chimney and she could clearly hear the baying of Fang the boarhound in the clear morning air. Stifling a smile at the cheery sight, she tried to pat her hair down into something that resembled order. Or at least something that was less of a disaster. But the moment she felt like she'd sufficiently smoothed it all down, the wind would kick back up and her curls would go every which way, some blown clear across her face so she could barely see. At this rate, she'd be lucky if her hair was only a disaster.

Well, if Viktor didn't like her as she was, it wasn't going to work anyway.

Straightening her shoulders, she marched her way down the path that led past Hagrid's hut and out towards the Forbidden Forest. There was a nice little spot behind Hagrid's pumpkin patch that was tucked out of the way, and she could only hope that Harry had been sufficiently able to describe the spot.

And that Viktor showed up at all.

Checking her watch, she confirmed she was a solid fifteen minutes early. Just as she'd planned, too nervous to remain in the castle waiting for the optimal time to leave. As she rounded the bend, her feet stuttered to a halt.

There, right in front of her, was Viktor. He was wrapped up in his thick Durmstrang cloak, which pooled around him as he sat awkwardly perched on one of Hagrid's pumpkins. His broom—at least, she assumed the Firebolt was his—was propped up next to him, looking entirely too polished and out of place in the frozen muddy churn of Hagrid's pumpkin patch.

Catching sight of her, Viktor scrambled to his feet. His brows were pulled down over his eyes, lending his face a foreboding expression. He seemed to spend a moment cataloguing her, which of course was the perfect time for a gust of wind to blow directly behind her, pushing all of her hair up and forward over her face. She was almost grateful she couldn't see his reaction.

When she'd nervously pushed it all back behind her ears, her hands just slightly shaking, she found that he'd taken a couple hesitant steps forward.

"Potter is not your boyfriend?" he asked quietly after clearing his throat. His intense gaze dropped from her face as he scowled at the ground, his toe digging in the dirt in a rather charming display of nerves.

"No."

That got his attention. Flicking his eyes back up to her face, he took a tentative step forward.

"Do you…have a boyfriend?"

She couldn't contain the tiny smile that pulled at the corners of her mouth. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she couldn't squash the hope that was blossoming somewhere in her belly.

"No."

He took another, bigger step towards her.

The scowl had disappeared now, and that heavy gaze, the one he'd pinned her with when he entered his name in the goblet, was back. It did funny things to her insides, making her belly feel like she was riding a roller coaster. He was close enough now that she had to look up to meet his dark eyes. If she reached out, she could easily brush her fingertips across his chest.

"Would you," he took a deep breath as if he were summoning all his courage. "Like me, as your boyfriend?"

This time she didn't even try to contain the smile.

"Yes."

One final step put him just a hairs breadth away. Without conscious thought, Hermione brought her hands up to gently rest on his chest, feeling the warmth of him even through the thick layers of wool and fur. Seeming to take that as an invitation, Viktor slowly slipped one hand underneath her cloak, lightly resting it on the curve of her waist. She suddenly wished she hadn't decided to put on her heaviest woolen jumper that morning.

She was certain her whole face was beaming and she couldn't stop the little huffs of excited, breathy giggles if she'd tried. Biting her lip to try and contain her grin, she chanced a look back up at Viktor's face. He smiled down at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. As the wind picked back up, she watched with nervous excitement as he reached down to tuck an errant curl behind her ear, the tips of his fingers just brushing against her cheek. She was certain her entire face was bright red, and yet she didn't care. In that moment, she didn't care about almost anything. Not the cold, not the wind, not the tragic state of her hair. Because Viktor was looking at her like she was beautiful.

"Can I kiss you now?"

"May I," she corrected without thinking.

Viktor laughed, tossing his head back. She could feel the muscles in his chest contract as he chuckled, ruefully shaking his head before looking back down at her with eyes full of fondness and warmth.

"May I kiss you now?"

She was nodding entirely too quickly, and yet she couldn't make herself stop. Viktor had the strange, wonderful quality of making her brain entirely quiet.

"Yes."

The hand that had tucked back her hair pressed lightly against her cheek, his thumb stroking along the curve of her cheekbone. She smiled and he repeated the motion, tracing the flushed apple of her cheek as the rest of his fingers lightly stroked the curve of her jawline, encouraging her to tilt her face upwards. Too nervous to meet his gaze, she let her eyes fall shut.

Hermione would never admit it out loud, but she'd spent a considerable amount of time contemplating what her first kiss would be like. Would she see stars? Would it feel magical? Would she go weak in the knees? Would her foot inexplicably pop up behind her like it did in the films?

Her actual first kiss was nothing like she'd expected. It was warm and hesitant and sweet. Viktor's lips were a little chapped. His hand was so large that it easily cupped the entire side of her face. And it lasted barely more than a second.

She saw no stars. There was no lightning strike, no magical moment that told her she'd found the love of her life. Her knees were solidly locked beneath her.

But as Viktor slowly drew back and looked down at her, smiling broadly and tentatively swiping his thumb across her lower lip, Hermione decided that it was absolutely perfect.

She couldn't have stopped beaming up at him if she tried. And she definitely didn't feel like trying. Instead, she gently wrapped her fingers in the fur trim of Viktor's cloak and tentatively tugged. Just a tiny bit. She didn't want to come across as desperate, after all.

Taking the hint, Viktor went in for a second kiss. This time, he lingered longer, slowly working his lips against hers, urging her to mimic him. She was sure her inexperience was obvious, but he didn't seem to care. As she slowly began to move her own lips, she felt his fingers curl around the base of her skull, cupping her head and tilting her at the perfect angle to just hint at a deeper kiss. There still weren't any stars, but as she gripped his cloak tighter, she could admit (if only to herself) that her knees did in fact feel just a little weak.

When he finally withdrew a minute later, she was incredibly embarrassed by the disappointed mewl that escaped her lips. She'd never made such a noise in all her life, and her cheeks flushed hotly with embarrassment. But Viktor's only acknowledgment was an even wider smile.

He had a beautiful smile, she decided. She'd always known it transformed his sharp face into a very handsome one, but in this moment he was the most attractive man she'd ever met. Her…boyfriend, was the most attractive man she'd ever met.

And wasn't that something?

Stroking her hair one last time, Viktor stepped back slightly, gesturing to the pumpkin he'd been sitting on.

"Would you like to go flying? Potter told me you loved to fly."

What few thoughts remained in her head vanished.

"I'm going to murder him."

"What?" Viktor looked shocked, concern beginning to creep over his features.

"Harry. I'm going to murder Harry."

"Why?"

"Because I'm terrified of flying. And he knows it."

She gripped her hair and groaned with frustration. For some reason, she'd hoped that Viktor would never have to find out that she was a terrible flyer. Secretly, she suspected Madame Hooch had only passed her her first year so she didn't have to put up with her again. Even Neville was a better flyer than she was.

And Viktor, of course, was literally the finest seeker in the entire world.

"You are afraid to fly? Why would Potter tell me to take you flying?"

Hermione heaved a sigh. "Because he thinks he's funny."

"Ah. He plays joke."

"Yes. And I'm going to murder him for it."

There was a long pause where Viktor looked entirely uncertain what to do. He stared longingly at his broom for a moment and she could easily read in his expression that he'd been very excited to share this with her.

"So, no flying?"

It was the tightly-leashed disappointment in his voice that did her in. After all, she felt like she owed him for how much she'd ignored him in favor of Harry since Halloween. Oh, she was certainly going to regret this.

"Can you? Can you promise I won't fall?"

That beautiful smile was back, stretching across his face. He looked more excited than she'd ever seen him before.

"Da. Am good flyer. Will not let you fall."

Something on her face must have clearly said she was still unconvinced by this whole idea.

"I teach you, yes? So you don't have to be afraid. Will be with you whole time. Will keep you safe. And warm." He threw her a wink and she burst out laughing, the tension broken.

"Ok. Ok let's do this. Before I change my mind."

Lacing his fingers through hers, Viktor tugged her over towards the broom. If he felt her hesitation as she followed him, he was good enough to not mention it.

She watched as he grabbed the Firebolt (at least she knew that much, if only because she'd seen Harry's plenty of times) and left it to hover in mid-air. Throwing one leg over the handle, he tucked it back in a practiced movement until his foot connected securely with the stirrup. She wasn't too proud to admit she enjoyed watching the muscles of his thighs bunch and stretch beneath his slacks. When she had the presence of mind to rip her gaze away and back to his face, she caught the shadow of a self-satisfied smirk. Rolling her eyes, she approached the broom with some trepidation.

"Come. Sit in front of me." He gestured broadly, smiling encouragingly when she hesitantly stepped forward and awkwardly got astride the broom, grateful she'd worn Muggle jeans instead of her school skirt. The broom dipped slightly for a moment and she squeaked.

He tapped her thigh with one hand.

"Bring leg back. Like mine." She bent her leg, trying to follow the instructions without acknowledging how incredibly awkward she felt being this close to a boy.

He tapped her leg again. "Further back. Against my leg. Will keep you steady as we fly." She did as he asked, gasping a little when he wrapped an arm around her waist to slide her back slightly.

Oh, there was something magical in the feel of her entire leg pressed firmly against his, her back fully surrounded by his hard chest. She was grateful he couldn't see the dark flush of her cheeks or what she suspected were her slightly wide, glassy eyes. She'd never be able to meet his gaze again if he knew how much she was affected by this one simple movement.

"Ok. Hands forward, to hold broom. Hold, not strangle." She missed the feeling of his chest as she leaned forward to grasp the broom. But the tight fit of her bum against him made her stomach flip-flop. The almost-inaudible huff behind her made her feel powerful. At least she wasn't the only one feeling affected.

"What next?"

"I will kick off. When I do, press this leg back against mine." He tapped the leg she'd yet to tuck back.

She nodded. Perhaps a little too quickly. Gulping slightly, she tried to slow her pounding heart as her anxiety ratcheted back up.

"Will not let you fall. Ready?"

"No."

If this had been Harry or Ron, she would have been met with a laugh and the immediate sensation of leaving the ground. But Viktor just smoothed a hand over her thigh and waited. Perhaps it was time to be brave.

"Ok. Ok I'm ready. As ready as I'll ever be."

With that, Viktor pushed off hard, tucking his remaining leg back and tapping her so she remembered to mirror him. Leaning forward, he pressed his chest against her back, wrapping himself around her and placing his hand in front of hers as he guided them in a slow arc upwards. The heat of him felt like a brand against her back. A very welcome one.

It took several minutes, but eventually Hermione relaxed enough to look around her. The Black Lake glittered below them, surface smooth as glass and rimmed with frost along the shore. The Forbidden Forest stretched out ahead, a sea of skeletal tree limbs punctuated by the occasional pine. It was a grey day. An ugly day. And yet, it also felt beautiful to see it from this height. She could see why Viktor liked this view so much.

While she felt a little dizzy looking straight down, Viktor handled the broom slowly and exactingly. If she felt unstable, all she had to do was press back slightly against him to feel the firm control he had over the broom and she felt just a bit more secure. While she wouldn't call herself comfortable, she'd never felt safer on a broom.

They'd been flying for perhaps fifteen minutes, making lazy loops around the grounds and chatting about everything and nothing, when Viktor spotted something deeper in the forest. He pointed ahead of them at a small trail of smoke that trickled up from the trees.

"Is there another house in the forest? Like the one before?"

"You mean, like Hagrid's? No. No one lives in the forest. Besides the centaurs, of course."

"Then what is that?"

As if on cue, a tongue of white-hot flame blasted up from the very same spot, followed closely by a puff of smoke and a small ball of fire that reminded her of a mushroom cloud. A flock of birds erupted from the trees, cawing frantically.

Viktor leaned forward harder against her, urging the broom closer.

"What are you doing!?" she screeched.

His voice rumbled directly in her ear, sending a shiver down her back.

"Is dragon-fire. I think."

Dropping lower, their feet almost brushed the tops of the trees. Hermione tried to control her breathing, desperately reminding herself that Viktor wasn't going to let them crash. If there was a dragon loose in the forest, someone needed to know.

As they got closer to the trails of smoke, Hermione could just make out a clearing ahead.

There wasn't a dragon.

There were four.

Four dragons with chains around their legs and a host of people attending to them.

With a jerk, Viktor turned them in a tight arc to go back the other way. She stifled a scream, gripping the handle of the broom so hard her knuckles turned white.

"Sorry," Viktor muttered in her ear, his voice tight with worry. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she could feel his own beating quickly against her back.

When they touched back down, Hermione scrambled off the broom and collapsed against the massive pumpkin.

"Those were dragons."

"Da. Four dragons."

Something in her head clicked.

"Oh god. Four dragons for four champions."

Viktor stood there motionless, his muscles clenched tightly, his face drawn tight in fear. His eyes looked just a little wild.

Rushing up to him, she hugged him tightly, pressing her forehead against his chest. His heart was beating so violently she could feel it through his cloak. Viktor wrapped his arms around her stiffly, clutching her just a bit too tight. After a momentary pause, he buried his face in the top of her wild hair and wrapped his arms even tighter.

Terrified didn't even cover what she felt in that moment. In less than a week, Viktor would have to face a dragon. A real life, adult dragon.

And so would Harry.

Pulling back sharply, she gazed up at Viktor's face.

"You need to tell the others. We might be the only ones who know."

"Da." He shook his head back and forth a little. He'd told her once that Bulgarian's nodded for no and shook their head for yes, but she'd never actually seen him do it. He was always so purposeful in blending in with his classmates.

"Am not sure they will believe me."

"Harry will. I think the others will too."

Eyes sharpening a little, Viktor peered down into her face.

"You are afraid for Potter."

"I'm afraid for both of you. But Harry's got a lot less training than you do."

"We should get back." Swinging the firebolt over his shoulder, he placed a hand on the small of her back and gently urged her forward.

As the two of them trudged up to the castle in silence, she couldn't help but worry that someone would see the two of them together. The students at Hogwarts could be absolutely vicious, and she was under no illusions that her relationship with Viktor would be taken well. The internationally-famous Durmstrang Pureblood and the plain, over-eager Mudblood swot? The gossip mill would have a field day at her expense. And his.

Still, as they approached the doors and prepared to part ways, she felt like she couldn't leave things like this. They'd finally reconnected after two weeks of misunderstandings, and who knew if she'd be able to see him again before the first task.

The first task where he'd have to face a literal dragon.

"Viktor?"

He stopped and turned to face her, his whole body still practically vibrating with anxiety. With his firebolt over his shoulder, he reminded her fiercely of the Bulgarian posters at the World Cup. He looked just as grumpy as he had then, but he was so very dear to her now.

With a quick glance around to double-check they were alone, she stepped closer. A half-baked notion in her head, she summoned her Gryffindor courage and moved before she could talk herself out of it. Placing one of her frigid hands on his cheek, she reached up on tip toe and gave him a small, lingering peck on the cheek.

"Be safe. For me?"

Leaning down, Viktor gently rested his forehead against hers, his hand coming up to cup her face. Tugging lightly, he brought his lips to hers in a gentle, lingering kiss.

"For you."

With a small bow, he turned and was gone.