When Hermione had first considered becoming a Healer, she had focussed solely on the idea of helping those who needed it, those who were in pain, diseased, or suffering from a malady or curse or the like.
It had not, not even once, occurred to her that those she tended to came with families, who suffered in conjunction with those they loved as they watched them. Those who witnessed the pain, those who tended to and who nurtured those who they held so dear as they suffered...no, she had not considered them at all.
But watching Viktor, who had clutched his mother's hand as he asked, tormented, "Why isn't she waking up?" had quickly fixed that.
Her throat had tightened as she yearned to go to him and tell him that it would be okay, but the crux of the matter was that she didn't know that it would be.
Unfortunately, she didn't even know the root cause of Milena Krum's illness. Most of the time it had only been alluded to as everyone else knew, presumably, what it was, and she had only been told in the vaguest of terms that it was some kind of curse. She hadn't even been told if they were trying to break it or what the effects of the curse were, as she was quite obviously not one of Milena's primary Healers.
However, it was clear to Hermione that Viktor's mother was not improving, despite her recent good health. Instead, she was declining in a slow and steady manner, the progression inexorable and painful to everyone involved every step of the way.
After Milena collapsed while they treated Viktor, they had taken Milena first to the hospital in France so that they could floo to the private hospital in Bulgaria. Demetrius had sent a Patronus ahead to the Healer that had helped him oversee Milena's treatment so that he would be waiting for them. Krasmira remained behind, though she had insisted that Hermione accompany both Viktor and Demetrius to the hospital ("I rather think that Viktor needs you more than I do", her Mistress had told her, "though if he baulks, tell him I sent you as a learning experience.").
Despite the fact that his own Healing was unfinished, Viktor had remained completely dedicated to his mother while this was all occurring, his gaze fastened to her form, limp and pale and somehow smaller than Hermione could have ever thought it could be. Knowing what she did about injuries such as his, Hermione thought he must have been in severe pain, but nobody would have known if they'd looked at him. Instead, they would have attributed his wan pallor and tight lips to his concern for the witch that he loved so, and Hermione wouldn't have been able to say which was right and which was not.
As they passed through a corridor marked CURSE AND SPELL DAMAGE, Viktor pulled a small object out of his mother's robes, which he had folded over his arm and brought with him. He fiddled with it for a moment before saying, clearly, "Kosta." Moments later, his brother's voice came through, first startled and then alarmed as Viktor succinctly informed him of what had occurred. He closed out the connection just as a Healer strode up, umber robes a bit faded under the bright light.
"Mitkov," Demetrius greeted him with a nod, and without further ado the two of them dove right into a highly technical conversation that was over even Hermione's head. When Viktor looked at her questioningly, she shrugged, unable to tell him. The corners of his mouth turned down, and she wished that there was something she could do to help him or Milena, who she dearly cared for.
Unfortunately, there wasn't much, if anything, she could do except stay by his side in silent support, and that was what she did as they took Milena to a spacious, private room. Mitkov assured them that he would return shortly, as he needed to go retrieve a few potions and salves he thought might help.
It was as they arrived there that Kosta stormed down the hall, robes billowing behind him. His eyes raked over his mother as he joined them, his hand reaching out to touch hers as if he were unable to help himself.
Milena stirred a bit at that, her eyes opening but her gaze hazy and unfocussed. "Kosta? Demetrius? Vitya? What are you doing here?"
Immediately, the other two men joined Kosta at the head of her bed, Viktor's expression joyful and hopeful in turns as Demetrius told her where they were and what had happened. Hermione expelled a breath she didn't know she was holding as Milena responded well to Demetrius's questions, and Kosta's shoulders dropped in relief.
"Thank Merlin," he murmured as Demetrius began asking Milena a battery of questions. "When Viktor called...I was concerned."
"What the bloody hell is going on here?" A tall, formidable man with patrician features and a sneer that seemed permanently carved onto his face entered the room, his eyes narrowed as he took in the scene.
Viktor's head snapped to face Kosta. "You called Father?" he asked disbelievingly.
"Like I said," Kosta winced, "I was concerned."
The Heir to the House of Krum stepped forward, placing himself between the wizard and the rest of them. "Father," he greeted respectfully, bowing and clicking his heels together. "It is mother, you see. She had an incident at the Quidditch match and had to be rushed here."
This man was their father? At first glance, she didn't quite see much of Viktor in him at all. However, the more she looked—really, deeply looked—the more she could see the familiarities, subtle as they were. The dark shine of their hair, the way they stood with their legs braced slightly apart, the slight tilt of their heads…yes, it was there.
"The damned Quidditch match?" Viktor's father looked disgusted. "That's what brought this all about? I've told you time after time to give it up, Viktor. Playing a professional sport is not an acceptable profession for those of our sphere."
Next to her, Viktor's entire body tensed. "Is that really what you're going to focus on right now?" he asked in disbelief. "My decision to pursue Quidditch as a career?"
"It's a fool's career," his father told him, his tone biting. "A waste of time. What benefit does it bring? How can you achieve lasting recognition for flying on a broomstick?"
She could fairly feel Viktor's anger from where she stood next to him. Gently, she took his hand and lightly squeezed it, trying to impart some calm. This was not the place to have a fight.
Viktor glanced over at her as Kosta diplomatically interrupted the brewing fight. "While this is an important discussion, I believe this is neither the place nor time for it. Father, you were summoned because of Mother's condition."
The older wizard's eyes barely glanced at Milena's still form. "What of it?" he asked dismissively. "She does this all the time. Must I be informed every time she decides to faint and make a scene? I was in the middle of a critical phase of my newest experimental potion."
Viktor ground his teeth together. "Is that all you have to say? That you were being inconvenienced by her collapse?" His grip on her tightened tightened convulsively before he released it all together. "There's not an iota of worry or compassion in you, is there? You're always too focussed on yourself and your own goals."
His father started forward, his face thunderous. "How dare you speak to me, boy—"
"That is quite enough." Demetrius's voice whipped out. "I will not have you fighting and bringing the surge of magical and negative energy into this space while my patient is in a serious condition. Get out." He pointed.
"Matsoukas." Lord Krum turned his attention to the Healer. "Don't you think for a minute—"
"I said get. Out."
Krum positively glowered at him for a long moment before abruptly quitting the room. Viktor and Kosta followed, and she could hear the family row continue in the hallway even after Demetrius had closed the door.
"—even care?" Viktor was yelling. "She's your wife!"
"It was an arranged marriage. She was nothing more than a stepping stone for a business deal that we cemented via an alliance. Said alliance helped our House and provided enough clout for her family to make new deals of their own. Stop being so naive, Viktor. Grow up."
"Father," Kosta's tenor voice joined the fray, "perhaps this is not—"
"No, Kosta. Let me state this as plainly as possible, Viktor. I don't know why you haven't understood it, or if you just willfully ignore it, but here are the facts: I don't love your mother, and I never have. It was an arranged marriage between our families, as it so often was. She supports ideologies that I do not. I have goals that she doesn't share, and as a result, we do not get along. To be perfectly clear: I do not care about your mother, and she does not care about me."
"You're a monster."
"I am your father."
In the bed, Milena stirred. "Ah, Vitya," she whispered. "How I had wished to spare him this."
She hadn't even realised the Krum matriarch was awake. Quickly rushing to her bedside, she asked, "Milena, how are you feeling?"
The witch cracked her eyes open, peering over at her. "Hermione," she greeted, her voice a mere thread of sound. "I'm not feeling my best, to be quite honest."
Demetrius, who was reading the result of a scan he had run, pursed his lips. "I would find it very hard to believe you if you said you were feeling anything other than that, looking at these results."
"That bad, hm?" The older witch attempted to gain a more upright position.
Almost absentmindedly, Demetrius placed a hand on her shoulder to keep her down. "Don't even try it."
"I can—"
"No, you can't." He shot her a level look. "Stop being difficult just because you want to look strong when the boys come in. This is not the time. Hermione, can you go fetch Healer Mitkov from wherever he went? Milena needs another dose of the potion that he went to get sooner rather than later."
Glad to be of some use, she nodded. "Of course I can. I'll be right back."
Quickly, she opened the door and stepped out. When she turned around from closing the door, she was greeted with the tense sight of Kosta leaning against the wall as Viktor, on her left, glared at his father, who was on her right.
"I'm just getting Healer Mitkov," she told the group at large, unsure who to address. "I'll be right back."
Quickly, she scampered away, glad not to be in the midst of that tableau a moment longer. There was so much anger and history between the men of the Krum family that she didn't know.
Viktor had hardly spoken about his father, and she was beginning to see why. The man seemed almost antithetical to Viktor: he disparaged their familial ties, instead focussing on the corporate aspect of his marriage to Milena, and not only insulted Viktor's current career in Quidditch but also told him it was beneath him.
It was hard to imagine fostering a positive relationship with someone who seemed so cold and distant. To state, so plainly, that Milena was of no consequence to him when he was standing outside her hospital room...
No, he was not like Viktor in the slightest.
"Healer Mitkov?" She caught the brown-haired Healer's attention as he was talking to another Healer, their heads bent in conference. "Would you mind coming back when you have a moment? Demetrius told me to tell you that she needs that potion you were off to get."
The Healer begged off his conversation and joined her as they walked down the hall towards Milena's room, stopping for a moment in a small room on the way. Hermione watched as he wrote something on a piece of parchment and placed it in an empty box embedded in the wall. A wooden door slid up and moments later fell with a bang, and Hermione gasped as she saw a bottle of a murky, bubbling potion sitting inside.
He grabbed the potion by the neck and they walked to Milena's room. As he glanced down at her, he asked, "Is Madam Krum awake?"
She nodded. "She's a bit hazy, and her blood pressure has largely remained the same as when she was out."
The Healer's brow arched. "Reading the scans, are you?"
Flushing, she bit her lip. "I'm an apprentice, sir. Madam Lazarov's apprentice. Milena—Madam Krum is my—well, I'm a family friend."
"Krasmira took an apprentice?" Mitkov was clearly surprised. "Was she there when she collapsed? Well, that's neither here nor there, though I will confess to some surprise that Milena was brought here if she had both of them administering care. In all honesty, Demetrius should be the attending. He's known her far longer than I have."
"They both thought it best to get your opinion," she explained. "They said you had more experience in treating conditions like hers." She paused for a long moment, then said heavily, "Healer Mitkov, it was...bad."
The image of Milena collapsing to the floor like a marionette with her strings cut would remain in her mind for days to come, if not weeks. Hermione had been exposed to sudden, traumatic injuries frequently enough during her time with the team, but this was something completely different that they hadn't really begun covering in depth.
It was still completely unsettling to her how Milena had been standing there one moment before folding over the next. Of course, she had had her suspicions of the older witch's illness: her pallor and thinness were something to note, of course, but she had had larger clues given the way Viktor, the house elves, Demetrius, and to her limited knowledge, Kosta, tended to care for her like she was something breakable.
To them, she was the sun that they gravitated around, catering to her every comfort. The fact that Viktor (or perhaps Viktor and Kosta?) had somehow negotiated with Krasmira and the powers that be in order to ensure that Milena could attend his matches only showed her how far they were willing to go to ensure she could do as she wished while being careful. It could not have been easy to accomplish such things, and yet they had.
However, it was clear to her that what Milena Krum received, she gave back in return. Her affection for her son, at least, was crystal clear, from the small things like calling him Vitya to the larger things like supporting him at the Festival of the Blessings and making sure to be present at his matches.
Hermione could understand why both Kosta and Viktor strove to make whatever Milena wanted possible. After all, if she had a mother like Milena, she would also be careful to treat her like she was something precious.
Her mouth curled downward at the thought even as they turned the corner and came up against the three Krums. They were in much the position she had left them in, though the elder Krum was ignoring a glowering Viktor and instead focusing on Kosta, discussing something about fireseed output. It came as no surprise, then, that Viktor chose to follow them into the room, going straight to his mother's side and standing next to a watchful Demetrius.
Solicitously, he bent over and gently clasped her hand in his. "How are you feeling?" he inquired as if he hadn't seen her mere minutes earlier.
Her murmured reply was lost to Hermione as she focussed instead on Healer Mitkov and Demetrius' rapid exchange of information and resulting agreement on which course of potions to administer. Instead of the original single potion Demetrius had requested and that Mitkov had brought, they used three and performed some kind of additional charmwork that Hermione watched with great interest.
His task ultimately accomplished, Mitkov gave a slight bow to Milena before leaving, though he promised to return in the next few hours to check on her. A moment later, Demetrius excused himself as well, ostensibly to discuss something with Mitkov, and then it was suddenly only her, Viktor, and Milena in the room.
Viktor, it seemed, had quite forgotten about Hermione as he huddled close to his mother's bedside. At some point he had transfigured something into a chair and wedged himself in it, his knees high enough to reach the underbelly of Milena's bed.
"—sorry I lost my temper," he was apologizing, his gaze downcast. "I know I have gotten better at managing, but Maika...I have a hard time remembering myself when I am around him. There's something about him. He makes me...irrational."
Milena carded her fingers through his hair gently, and Hermione's heart ached at the tender gesture, so full of affection. "There are some people who elicit stronger reactions than others," she told her son, "but the measure of a man is whether he can master himself no matter the situation."
He drooped even further. "Then surely I am no man."
"Darling boy, you are a wonderful man. You are simply young and learning how to restrain yourself."
He looked up at her, the picture of a boy needing reassurance from his mother. "How is it possible to be the man that I know you want me to be?"
She smiled softly. "You already are. You are simply becoming a better version of that man every day."
"At least I'm better than the man I call my Father," Viktor sneered, throwing a bitter glance at the door. "He is lower than scum for coming in here and saying those things about you, especially when you're so ill. Truly, I despise him."
"Most of what he said isn't wrong," Milena responded, her tone mild. At that, Hermione suppressed a gasp. "The marriage was arranged as a way to cement an alliance. It has certainly been a fruitful one that has allowed for both families and their respective people to prosper. Who we were—our ideals for partners, our needs and wants—were sublimated in the light of the benefits. After all, we were just two people who had dreams and desires, and there were so many who stood to gain from it."
"It isn't fair that you had to put aside your own feelings and well-being!" he argued. "You should have been able to at least have some sort of say."
"Sometimes there are things bigger than ourselves that require us to put aside our personal feelings, Viktor. Our positions afford us great power that we must use to the benefit of many. isn't about fairness when I can ensure the prosperity not only of my family but also those I am responsible for." Milena rested her hand on Viktor's, her expression tinged with sadness. "There are some things bigger than our quest for love, Viktor. You must realize that."
Vehemently, he shook his head. "I disagree. How can I expect to do well—to flourish, even—if I am shackled to one I cannot stand? No. This...this I can't accept. If this is what marriage is, then I shall never do it."
His declaration was fierce, and Hermione knew that he meant it. He had that look on his face he got when he was reaching for the snitch: determined and laser-focussed.
Milena cupped his face. "I know, Vitya, but you will marry one day. Hopefully it will be to a witch you love—perhaps to one you know already, even?—but sometimes we must do things we don't want to. As a son of the House of Krum, you are expected to further the family's name and connections. This is just one way, but I will try my best to ensure you do not have to do such a thing."
"What, am I supposed to serve myself up like Kosta did?" Abruptly he stood and paced the length of the room. "He's married Svetlana, who is a classless shrew and not at all fit for him, all in the family's name. Isn't it enough that one of us has sacrificed ourselves to 'further the family name'? Should I present myself to the butcher's block as well?"
Milena's expression remained as pleasant as ever, though her tone gained an edge. "Your father and I did the same thing."
"And look how that turned out! You, alone and sick while he comes in and upsets you by saying those things and then, to top it all off, stands there dictating to Kosta like it's another normal day. He is a deplorable husband."
Milena's brows drew together. Sharply, she reprimanded, "Don't speak of him that way. He is your father, Viktor."
He smiled, a close-lipped and bitter thing empty of humour. "And what a father he's been, hm? What a husband, too."
Milena sighed, pale fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "I know that you don't think much of him, and I can understand why, but there are things you don't understand—"
"I think I understand everything I need to know," he cut his mother off uncharacteristically. "He prioritizes his work, his business, and his fame over you and the family. I suppose he can say it's all in the name of Krum, hm? It's an easy excuse to do as he pleases and damn the consequences."
His mother's face was strained. "All I am saying—"
One of the many scans showing on the wall spiked and an alarm went off. Milena had become too agitated for her condition.
"Calm down, the both of you," Hermione commanded over the sound of the alarm. "Viktor," she shot him a pointed glance, "stop arguing with your mother. She can't handle it right now."
Taking in her pallor, Viktor was instantly contrite. "Of course. I shouldn't have...my temper got away from me."
"Do you promise to behave yourself, or should I send you outside?"
"No, no," he hastened to reassure Hermione, "of course I promise."
A bare instant later, the door opened and Demetrius strode in, his gaze flitting first to Milena before fastening on the readings. "Hermione." The rebuke in his tone was clear.
Feeling the instant shame of not doing a good enough job, she dropped her gaze. "I'm sorry for not stepping in sooner. It's just...I didn't realize how upset she was getting. She looked calm."
"She'll look calm right up until she's dead!" Taking a deep breath, Demetrius calmed himself. "I apologize. That was uncalled for. Milena is a rather difficult patient given that she doesn't take care of herself. That, combined with the fact that she has an excellent facade, makes her hard to judge at face value. However, Mistress Lazarov should have taught you by now not to rely on your eyes but rather to—"
"—rely on the scans. I know. I'm sorry." It felt as though she had been kicked rather firmly in the gut. What if something more serious had been brewing and her reticence to get involved in a serious conversation had caused damage to the witch under her care?
"See that it won't happen again," Demetrius commanded brusquely. A moment later, he shook his head minutely, as if chastising himself. "In all honesty, it's partly my fault. I forgot how young you are. You've only been learning for months. Really, you've barely even begun training. I wanted to talk to Mitkov, and I thought, perhaps erroneously—" he shot a look at Viktor, "—that she would be kept in a calm environment."
Viktor looked down. Hermione willed him to look up and caught his gaze when he did, sharing a grimace as they both felt the sting of Demetrius's reprimands.
"Demetrius, you're being far too harsh on them." Milena's chastisement lacked any strength, as she was clearly in some discomfort.
Perfunctorily, the Greek wizard cast some kind of spell over her that made her body relax. Hermione hadn't realised until then how tense the other witch had been and felt yet another pang run through her as she discovered she had not been as observant as she had thought.
Hermione thought that Mistress Lazarov would be extremely disappointed in her if she were here.
"Better?" Demetrius asked instead of responding to her scolding, his eyes trained on Milena's face.
She nodded, looking a little sleepy. "Thank you."
He tucked the edge of a blanket around her solicitously. "Of course. When you stabilize enough, I think we should go to Aigos Minas. It is calming, relaxing, and removed from all of the stresses of daily life."
"I'm not sure that I would like to be sequestered away…"
Sternly, Demetrius said, "As your Healer, I'm telling you that you need the space."
Her frown was a little petulant. "I don't like it."
"I'll go with you," Viktor put in suddenly. "I can simply floo from there to my house and then to the Stadium. It won't be problematic in the least."
Milena's eyes brightened at the prospect of being able to spend more time with her son, although she asked, "It won't take your focus away from your match?"
Viktor huffed and picked up her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. "Maika, it wouldn't matter if it did. You are far more important to me than any match."
His utter sincerity made the teenage girl in Hermione swoon a little. If he said something even remotely resembling that to any girl while being that earnest, she would be a puddle on the floor faster than one could say Liquefacia.
"My sweet Vitya," his mother said indulgently, though her words were slurring. "I would love it so if you did. I do miss seeing you…"
"Then it's settled," he replied firmly. "I'll stay there until you return to the Manor."
Content with his response, her eyes closed and she slid into sleep only moments later. Viktor sighed, his reassuring smile sliding off his face. He looked exhausted and was holding himself somewhat gingerly. Abruptly, she realised he was still in his uniform. Somehow, it was still the same day as the game.
Approaching him, she tilted her head up to look into his eyes as she asked, "How are you holding up? Your ribs? Your ankle?"
He scrubbed a hand over his head. "They're all fine. Well, relatively speaking. Mostly I'm just exhausted."
"Honestly, I can't believe we've ignored your injuries all this time. We really need to address them. Here, let me get Healer Mitkov."
Viktor shook his head. "No need."
Placing her hands on her hips, she looked him dead in the eye. "No need? Really? What would your mother say?"
"I daresay she would not be happy indeed," Demetrius said mildly from the entrance to the room. "Don't make a fuss. Go get some pain relieving potions, and I'll finish fixing you up later tonight."
Glancing at Milena, Viktor visibly hesitated. "I wouldn't want to leave Maika…"
"Don't be stupid." Demetrius dissmies Viktor's worries as he came back into the room. "Nothing is going to happen to Milena in the meantime. She's stabilised and, as you can see, resting. Honestly, Viktor, you look like you've had an encounter with a rabid hippogryff."
Hermione, who had seen the aftermath of Draco's 'encounter' with Buckbeak, privately thought Viktor looked worse.
"Your mother is fine and she will continue to be fine so long as she remains in a quiet and calm environment. That's why I suggested Aigos Minas. She's always loved it there."
Viktor searched the Healer's face. "Truly, she will improve? Don't you think she should stay here for a while longer to stabilize?"
"Have I ever lied to you about anything medically related? She's fine, Viktor. In fact, Mitkov and I think she can be moved tonight or tomorrow."
"I just don't know," he fretted. "I upset her only moments ago, and look how that turned out."
Compassion rose within her in a swift wave. He was clearly upset with himself for letting his temper get the better of him. "Demetrius has been treating your mother for years, Viktor. If he thinks that she's going to recover, chances are that she will. Listen to him and Healer Mitkov. This is their job."
He turned so he was facing her and caught her hand in his. The suddenness of it caught her by surprise, but it was the intense look in his eyes that stole her breath. "What do you think?"
"Me?" she asked incredulously.
Viktor nodded, his dark eyes intent on her own.
"I think that Demetrius and Healer Mitkov are far better suited to predict your mother's health than I am," she said firmly and with complete honesty. "If I've learned anything today, it's that I know so little regarding healing that I should be considered less than a novice."
"I wouldn't go that far." Demetrius's comment caused them to look away from each other and towards him. His striking grey-green eyes glinted with wry humour. "You're quite good for how long you've been learning the craft, Mia. I would say you're...oh, perhaps at the level of a field medic? Someone who knows enough to know basic triage but not enough to address substantive issues without further assistance."
She blinked in surprise. "Really? But today, I didn't even manage to understand the scan well enough to see that I should have stopped her and VIktor's conversation."
"That scan is complicated enough that I doubt many trainees would be able to read it."
"Oh."
"Oh, indeed," he said wryly. "But regardless, Mia, you're doing fine, and I thank you for your endorsement regarding Milena's care."
Viktor's hand was warm where it held onto hers, and she couldn't stop feeling a sudden and intense awareness of her hand where it touched his own. Her eyes dropped to it, gazing at the way their fingers laced neatly together, before they rose to meet Viktor's once more.
"So," she managed around a suddenly dry throat, "that's my opinion, I suppose."
He squeezed her hand before dropping it with seeming reluctance. "Thank you. And really, Mia, thank you for your help today. I feel as though we were lucky to be in such a place when she...fell ill."
"It was certainly fortuitous," she acknowledged, "though I wonder if perhaps she should take care to be in less stressful environments."
Both Viktor and Demetrius's glowers indicated that this was not the first time the topic had come up. "I've told her she didn't need to come," Viktor replied, "but she was insistent, and I tried to ensure that she would at least have the best care possible."
"I didn't mean it as an accusation," Hermione said hastily, "just as an observation."
Demetrius looked down at Milena, his face soft. "She is very stubborn. Too stubborn, really. But considering the progression of her condition, I think it...extremely unwise to attend the upcoming match."
Viktor nodded. "There's no way she'll attend the final. I'll ensure it's not plausible, even if I have to find her tickets myself."
Demetrius nodded as the two men shared a look over the bed. "I just wish she would listen to me," Demetrius sighed, "but she is so strong-willed it is near impossible, even if I yell. I am hoping, however, once she recovers that she'll be willing to listen more. There is a Healer—more of a shaman, actually—in Brazil who specialises in conditions like hers. Mitkov recommended her to me a few months ago, saying that they'd had more progress in treating curses like hers, but Milena refused to go."
Viktor took his mother's hand in her own and stroked his thumb over the back of it. "I'll make sure she goes. Both Kosta and I will, I'm sure of it. I just...can't you tell me what's wrong?" he asked plaintively.
Hermione was startled at the fact that such a big piece of information was behind withheld from Viktor. It was his mother, after all. Didn't he have a right to know?
Heavily, Demetrius said, "You know I'd tell you if I could, but she's made it explicit that she doesn't want anyone to know."
"I can't understand why, though." Viktor looked distraught. "I'm her son. Perhaps I could help? Could we use the family bond to strengthen her reserves at the very least? Our family is strong in number and our magic is old. We have so many rituals that we could use to help if she would only just tell us."
The Greek wizard looked sympathetic. "I'm sorry, Viktor. It's her wish, and as her Healer I'm not permitted to say unless directed otherwise."
Disheartened, Viktor's shoulders slumped. "I just feel as though I should be doing something more instead of just standing around."
Kosta, who had opened the door and was coming in, had caught the last bit of what Viktor said. "It's enough that we're here," he said. "I know how frustrated and worried you are. I am, too. She doesn't tell me anything, either. But...if we can just support her in whatever way she asks and be here for her when she needs us, I think that's the best we can do."
"Speaking of doing the best we can," Demetrius added, "I think I'll be going with her to Aigos Minas. I think the climate and calm atmosphere will do her well."
"Aigos Minas?" Kosta asked, surprised, before he turned thoughtful. "The island? I'll see if the staff can't make it ready. I can certainly see the appeal."
"I'm going with her," Viktor informed his brother. "I can easily get to the Stadium from there. Really, it's just an extra step."
"I've got a trip coming up that I can't avoid," Kosta said regretfully, "but, brat mi, I know that you'll be good enough for the both of us. You've always had a bond with her."
The tips of Viktor's ears went red. Fascinated, Hermione watched as Viktor actually shifted a bit, the closest she had ever seen him get to outright fidgeting. "I love her," he said simply. "I'd do anything for her."
Hermione watched the two of them interact with both envy and satisfaction warring within her. She wished that she had the same bonds that Viktor had with his mother, but she also wished, even passingly, that she had someone like Kosta. For all that they seemed distant and unlike each other on the surface, when something critical happened, they banded together to support each other and solve the issue at hand.
Her sigh drew Kosta's attention, and the older brother watched her with a discerning eye. "I can only imagine your exhaustion, Mia," he told her. "Attending the match and then this? Please, get some rest."
"I didn't even play!" she protested. "Really, you should be concerned about Viktor. He was injured, after all."
Kosta's attention snapped back to Viktor as he examined him for injuries. "You were?"
"Only minor things," Viktor dismissed. "Nothing truly egregious. Mia and Krasmira took care of me."
Kosta inclined his head. "Thank you, Mia, for helping with two of the most important people in my life. I owe you a debt of gratitude."
Flustered, Hermione held up her hands. "Really, it was nothing. I was just doing my job."
Viktor looked skyward as if trying to gather some patience as Kosta's lips curled into a faintly amused smile. "That's what you always say." Viktor sighed. "I supposed I should have anticipated that response."
"What?" she asked, confused. "It's true."
He cracked a smile, the first look of happiness that she had seen all day, despite their win and resulting advancement to the finals. Reaching over, he brushed a stray hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear, his eyes fond as he said, "Never change, Mia. Never change."
Edited 2/13/21