A/N: Hello, hello, here is my first stab at a Vikmione story.

Beta readers for it are KittenKaboom and Jane_Davidson. This is going to be a shorter story, 5 MAYBE 6 chapters at most. I'm ALMOST done writing this, and once I am I will give you an exact chapter count. Let me know what you think!

Chapter 2: The Diner

The sun was just starting to shine through the curtains when Martin came pounding on everyone's hotel doors. "Everyone UP! We have to catch a good breakfast and then we're meeting at the pitch to go over game strategy. I better see all of you downstairs in fifteen minutes!"

Rolling over, Viktor rubbed his eyes before checking the time and seeing that it was just after seven in the morning. Martin was a hard-ass, but this was nothing new. When it came to games, World Cup or not, this is how Martin approached them all.

His no-nonsense attitude was why in the eight years that Viktor had been playing on the Bulgarian National team they made an appearance at the Quidditch World Cup in 1994, 1998, and again, just this past summer, in 2002, and ultimately winning it all this last time.

Dragging himself out of bed, and into a quick shower, Viktor was dressed and ready to go in less than ten minutes. Walking down to the hotel foyer, he noticed Martin was standing at the foot of the stairs holding a stopwatch. Looking up, the captain nodded his head at Viktor. "Good time, Vick. You're the first one down. Aleksandar tried sneaking a girl back with him last night, so I might have to go kick his teeth in to remind him who the captain is. Fucking pain, can't believe we let a kid on the team again." He said the last part with a wink at Viktor, knowing that he was the youngest player–at seventeen–ever allowed on the national team in the county's history.

"Go on, get yourself some food. I know how you like to have breakfast by yourself to get pumped before a game. I'll see you at the pitch no later than nine," Martin said, slapping the younger Seeker on his shoulder.

Walking out the front door, Viktor decided against having breakfast at the hotel again. Looking around, though, it didn't seem that there were any places to eat nearby. Viktor strolled over to the doorman and asked for any recommendations. The older gentleman pointed Viktor in the direction of the man's favorite diner. He said they had the best variety of pancakes in the city, and was low-key enough that he wouldn't be bothered by any fans. Viktor thanked him, grateful that his breakfast would be peaceful.

It was a bit of a walk, but Viktor didn't mind as it gave him some time to try and clear his head with the fresh air in the loud city. The diner the doorman had described to him came into view, and Viktor couldn't help but smile at how odd it was. A little silver metal building with a flashing neon sign set above it. This was clearly a magical establishment, as a house elf had just apparated onto the front step before entering.

Opening the door, Viktor had to squeeze his way past the small crowd in the front. It was clear to see that the little place was popular with the locals as every booth was taken, explaining the crowd at the entrance. However, peering over the top, he could see places open at the counter facing the serving hatch, giving a direct view into the kitchen.

"Order up!" The cook called, dinging a bell when a familiar head of short curls came bobbing over in a little pale yellow collared dress that flared at her hips and a white apron around her waist. What were the odds…

"Thanks Henry. Do you have table seven's banana nut pancakes yet?" She asked jumping up to grab the plates from the window before dropping back down.

"They'll be ready when you get back from running that." The cook replied to her with a wink that made Viktor's blood boil.

Her olive skin looked even darker against the pale uniform. The bright white shoes and short skirt made her legs look fantastic as she trotted out from behind the counter towards a booth. Viktor watched the subtle sway of her hips as he sat down and pulled up a menu. It wasn't until she was out of sight that he looked to see what breakfast here might consist of. He didn't really care what they had. He knew he'd be ordering eggs, bacon, toast, and coffee.

Another woman in the same dress uniform that Hermione was wearing came up asking if she could get him anything. Viktor said a coffee and asked if Hermione was available to take care of him. A raised brow from the waitress made him wonder if this wasn't something they could do, but she ended up shrugging her shoulders. After dropping off an old brown mug of coffee with sugar, milk, and creamer packets, she let him know Hermione would be with him soon, before leaving him to look over the menu some more.

Still looking at the menu, he didn't see Hermione approach him, but he recognized her voice when she asked what she could get him to eat. Viktor set the laminated sheet he'd been holding aside, revealing himself to her.

Hermione's jaw dropped open when she sputtered out, "Viktor, what, what are you doing here? How did you find me again?" The panicked tone in her question put Viktor on edge. Before he could ask why she was nervous seeing him again, the cook interrupted their reunion.

"Hermione, is this guy bothering you? This wouldn't be your ex by chance, would it?" The large man wearing a grease covered apron and backwards hat yelled, glaring at Viktor.

"Yeah, wait, not that ex. No, not who I told you about. He's alright, just passing through town," Hermione quickly explained to the man. Regardless of her assurance, the cook was still looking at Viktor like he would have no problem ripping him limb by limb.

"Well, if he says anything let me know and I'll throw him out," the man called out. After giving Viktor one last look over, he turned back to his grill, giving Hermione and Viktor a little privacy.

"Sorry about that, Henry is a bit protective of his girls. What are you doing here though?" Hermione asked, leaning back against the counter crossing her arms over her chest. That's when Viktor finally got a good look at her in the bright daylight.

She had an elaborate tattoo on her left forearm, masking where he knew that she'd been carved into by that wicked witch during the war. There was an elaborate floral arrangement that he assumed had more meaning than just being pretty to look at. Sweetbrier, everlasting, and evergreen thorn were the ones he could identify with just a glance. He'd have to remember to look those up in The Language of Flowers later.

On her neck was the other reminder of the day that she'd been captured during the war. The thin white jagged line, an imprint of the shape of the blade. Only, those weren't the only scars that Viktor could see in the light of day.

Peeking out from the collar of her dress, going across her entire collarbone was a long bright red burn that even slightly went up her neck. The knuckles on her dainty hands were littered with little scars that hadn't been there during her wedding to Ron Weasley three years prior. Thin red lines wrapped around both of her wrists. The scars gave the impression that at one point she'd been cuffed with a wire.

He looked at her face, and he noticed that she wasn't wearing any earrings as she had been the night before. One of her ear lobes showed signs that something had been ripped from her ear, leaving it torn and not whole. The final mark was an indent next to her eye, looking as if someone had tried and failed to cut it out.

Even with all these new blemishes, she was still the most beautiful woman Viktor had ever laid eyes on. His heart broke, because it appeared the last three years hadn't been kind to this brilliant woman. She looked as if she'd gone through a second war and just survived it.

His pause in answering her question must have indicated that he'd been distracted. Hermione looked down at her wrists and with a cringe tried to cover the scars with her hands. "I didn't leave the club until three and had to be here by five for my shift. When I'm too tired, I can't hold the glamor to keep them covered," she muttered, not meeting his eye anymore. "What can I get you to eat, Viktor? I've got to get back to work."

"Hermione," Viktor said, reaching his hand out to touch her tattooed arm. "You don't have to be embarrassed. You can trust me, tell me what has happened to you."

"Now is not the time nor the place for such a tale," she told him in a low voice.

"Can you come to my game tonight? I want to see you again, not here or at another one of your jobs. I can take you out after, we can go somewhere quiet and talk," he desperately offered.

Shaking her head, Hermione finally looked back up into his eyes again. "I don't get off here until one, then I'm heading home to sleep until I have to be at the club at nine. Maybe some other time, Viktor." She said, stepping back and away from him and out of his reach, as if she were scared he would put his hands on her. "Now, if you want some breakfast, we've got a lumberjack special that I know you'd like. I'll just put that in for you," she said. As soon as she'd thrown the order for him into the window, Hermione turned and walked into a back room out of sight.

From where she'd disappeared, a third witch in the same pale yellow dress came walking out, heading straight towards him. Pale skin and long pin straight black hair pulled up on the top of her head with a fringe across her forehead, she looked more like she belonged modeling in a fashion magazine than waiting tables. Her emerald eyes and pug nose were familiar to Viktor, but he couldn't place where he knew her from. Perhaps she was one of the groupies that had been fawning over him the day before.

"What did you say to her?" The unknown witch snapped at him. Viktor sat back in his chair, shocked that someone would speak to him in such a manner.

"Excuse me?" He asked, narrowing his eyes at the woman. She stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at him as if he'd done something wrong.

"You heard me, Krum. What did you say to Hermione that made her act like that?" She said again, motioning her hand towards the swinging doors to the kitchen where Hermione had run away behind.

"Do I know you?" He asked, not wanting to discuss Hermione with just any witch that crossed his path.

"No, probably not. I know you though, and I know that you had a thing for my friend our fourth year. So again, I ask, what did you say to her." The witch was now leaning across the counter openly glaring at him. Even though she didn't look intimidating at first, Viktor couldn't help but be very intimidated by the woman staring him down.

"I didn't say anything, just invited her to come to my Quidditch match tonight. Told her that I'd like to see her outside of one of her jobs before I go home." Viktor finally admitted, not wanting to push the limits of this particular woman anytime soon.

"Salazar's left nut, is that it, really? Don't take it personally. Her weasel of an ex-husband left her in a right state. Alright, I'm going to give you the address to our flat and you are going to swing by tomorrow around noon." The woman said, pulling out a muggle pen and writing on a napkin.

"Now, she doesn't get up until eleven at the earliest on days after she works the club, but I'll have her ready to go. You're a famous Quidditch star, so you're going to treat her to a fabulous day out. Whatever she wants to do, do it. She might drag you to The Met, if she does, just smile and nod along. Bloody museum is boring if you ask me, but she loves it. Just don't look at her scars, if you do, she'll take off just like she did now. On Sundays she is always totally drained and can't keep the glamor up." With a flourish and a heart drawn on the napkin, the woman handed it to him.

"This is when I'm supposed to threaten you, but you look like you're more than a pretty face and know not to cross me by hurting my best friend. So, noon, don't be late. I'll have her ready for you." With that she turned around and plucked a plate from the window, setting it down in front of him.

Steaming fried eggs, pancakes, toast, potatoes, bacon, ham, and sausages smelled heavenly as his stomach rumbled reminding him he needed to eat. He looked up to see the long black silky ponytail whipping through the same door that Hermione had disappeared through earlier.

Whoever that witch was, maybe she would be the key he needed to understand what had happened to the first love of his life.

A/N: Next chapter will be posted NEXT MONDAY. This is a fast paced story, you'll get your answers about as quickly as you can ask them. EEK! Ron Weasley bashing coming up... so if you're a Ron fan, just abandon this story now. It's not going to paint him in a good light at all.

See you Next Week!