Viktor looked curious to hear her answer even as he lounged against the chair, his big frame dwarfing the delicate furniture.

Blankly, she stared at him. "The right person?" she echoed.

He nodded encouragingly. "Yes. You know, the person that you could be with?"

Though his question was logical, it threw her for a loop. She hadn't ever really considered it before, having always just felt like love and its other related...activities...were an abstract thing likely meant for other people that were most decidedly not her.

"Well," she said thoughtfully, tracing a finger along the grain of the wood of the table, "Naturally they would have to be smart. And like to read books, too, but of course smart people likely enjoy reading, I would think. And...well...kind, obviously."

If someone was not kind, if they couldn't see beyond themselves and understand the impact their actions or inactions had on others, then she obviously couldn't be with them, because she would be dooming herself to a life of misery. "Which precludes self-centeredness, I would think. But obviously that's off the table. They need to be able to care for those around them."

"They can't be like your parents," he put in understandingly.

"Exactly. They need to care about those around them. I also think that they should have a goal, or something they love, or something that they're working towards."

"A purpose, almost? Or a passion?" he offered.

She grasped at the words excitedly. "Yes! Exactly. Something bigger than them. Something that consumes them. You know, just how you feel like you should become a Weather Wizard so you can help your people."

The thought struck her like a lightning bolt, bringing her feverishly working mind to a halt. Viktor had a passion. Viktor had several passions, in fact. He was also kind, and driven, and determined to do right by others, and he was whip smart, too.

Her heart stopped as the pieces snapped together in a sudden, almost audible click. Everything she was saying—every single thing—fit Viktor perfectly, almost eerily so. She felt all the blood rush through her body before it turned to ice as she realised that the wizard sitting across from her was, in fact, the 'right man'. The only man. Outwardly, the world kept spinning as normal, though she froze with a fixed expression as her mind melted down.

"Mia?" Viktor was looking at her, concerned. "Are you alright? You look as though you've seen a ghost."

She laughed faintly. She hadn't seen a ghost. She'd just realised she was in love with him. "I'm fine."

She was not fine. She was very not fine, actually, but if she told him that, then he would ask, and then she would have to come up with some kind of believable lie, which she was not good at, and then he would find out the truth, at which point he would politely say, "Why, Mia, thank you for your interest, but I am not particularly interested in snogging a girl with buck teeth and a know-it-all complex", and then they would stare at each other, and their friendship would be over, and then—

"Are you sure?"

With a massive act of will, she ground her panicked thoughts to a halt. She could have a quiet meltdown later when she was not in front of the wizard that she—that she….that she liked.

Oh Merlin.

"Quite sure." Forcing a bright expression on her face, she changed the subject. "Speaking of ghosts, are there any around here? There's a few at Hogwarts. I find them absolutely fascinating. We don't have any in the Muggle world, you know."

Subject successfully changed from the landmine of love and its trappings, she managed to make it through the rest of the evening, though both Milena and Demetrius looked over at her assessingly several times throughout the evening. Viktor, at least, she had managed to fool.

Or so she thought, until right before she stepped through the floo when he touched her hand. "You're certain you're okay? You've been acting a little strange this evening. Is it something I said, perhaps? Or is there something on your mind?"

His eyes were dark, and warm, and concerned, and she felt suddenly flushed and a little bit breathless. "I'm, um, yes, I'm fine. Really, Viktor, no need to worry."

"You'd tell me if I should?" He took a single step closer, which really made him quite, quite close, considering he hadn't been far away to begin with.

Her mouth dry, she promised, "I would definitely tell you. After all, what are best friends for? And we are best friends—well, at least, I feel like you're my best friend. I don't have to be your—"

He rolled his eyes. "Don't be silly. Of course we're best friends. Well, if you're certain you're okay, I'll see you tomorrow." His smile glinted white and bright in the foyer's light.

Helplessly, she smiled back. "Tomorrow."

When she arrived home, she stood in the fireplace for a long, long minute, her entire being in upheaval.

She liked Viktor Krum. She liked him much more than as a best friend, and Merlin, what had been that tripe coming out of her mouth only moments earlier?

"Best friends," she mocked herself. So stupid.

That idiocy aside, what was she going to do? It was true: he felt like her best friend, perhaps even more so than Ron and Harry, who she had spent years with. Was it just hormones talking, that she felt a realness with Viktor, who she had only known for months, that she hadn't felt with Ron or Harry? Or perhaps, really, it was just different. Because she loved Ron and Harry, and she would do—had done—anything for them, from crazy stunts and death-defying feats to helping with their homework.

But Viktor was different. When she was with him, things seemed more real and attainable. As if together, they were stronger than apart. He understood her. His family situation was similarly dysfunctional, and he liked the same things as her. With him, she felt as if she could do no wrong, that he would accept her regardless.

Her head dropped. But he was Viktor Krum. Quidditch superstar. Top of his class. Second scion of House Krum. How could she, a mere girl with little to offer—a Muggle, with bushy hair and buck teeth, with freckles and more brain than she knew how to handle—hope to offer anything to Viktor?

She was British; he was Bulgarian. He was a Pureblood; she was a Muggle. He was a superstar; she was just...regular. Regular, unremarkable Hermione Granger. The differences seemed insurmountable.

Yet when she thought about them—them together, Hermione and Viktor—it didn't seem like utter tripe. It seemed...tangible. Like something she could see happening, something she could almost touch, almost feel. The warmth of his hand on her waist as he steadied her after apparating. The patient sound of his voice coaching her through a new spell. The gleam of his teeth as his smile dazzled her. The sharpness of his wit when he allowed it to show through. Viktor wasn't just some Quidditch player. He was real, real to her in a way that nobody else had ever been.

A thought struck her, and she groaned in despair. None of this really mattered because she had literally, just hours earlier informed him she wasn't ever particularly interested in marriage, and perhaps not even dating.

Disconsolately, she kicked at the brick wall within the fireplace. As Ron would say, bloody hell.

A sudden thump from upstairs caught her attention, and she stepped out of the fireplace. The thump came again only moments later, and then again. Frowning, she moved towards the staircase, palming her wand. Was Sirius being attacked? It wasn't late enough for him to be asleep and having another night terror, though recently he had taken to putting up silencing spells around his room.

A muffled exclamation came as she hit the landing. "Yes, Magellan! Yes!" The tone was anything but tortured; in fact, she would call it exultant.

Her cheeks flamed and her shoulders hunched. It seemed Sirius was...entertaining...a female friend. Almost comically, her head swiveled from her room back down to the fireplace. Perhaps she could spend the night elsewhere. Clara would take her, likely as not, and so would Viktor or even Milena and Demetrius. But she could cast a silencing spell—

"Magellan!" The witch shrieked, and Hermione grimaced, then paused, then frowned deeply. That voice...it sounded rather familiar. Almost like… "Like that, just like that!"

Svetlana.

She didn't know what to be more horrified by: the fact she was listening to Sirius having sex with Svetlana, or the fact that she was hearing Sirius having sex with Svetlana, who was married to her best friend's brother.

Oh Merlin. This was going to make Viktor so mad.

But should she tell him? Was it her business? Was it his business?

She needed advice. As quickly as she could, she gathered some things from her room and scurried down the steps. Quickly, she made a Firecall to Clara, hoping she was awake. It wasn't too late yet, which made her feel optimistic.

"Clara?" she called, her head firmly stuck into the fire. "Clara, it's Mia." She hoped her voice wasn't so loud that Sirius could hear but was loud enough that it could get Clara's attention.

There was an audible thud, then the sound of walking. Clara appeared moments later, along with Krasmira. Hm. Well, it wasn't all that surprising considering what good friends they were. "Mia? Is everything all right?"

"Er. It's." She cleared her throat. "Uh, it's fine. It's just that, er, my guardian is, erm, well. He's entertaining a lady friend."

Clara laughed. "Is he now? Bully for him. Need a place to stay over so you won't expire of embarrassment?"

Fervently, Hermione nodded. "It's not that, really," she stressed. "I'm not that much of a prude. It's who it's with."

Krasmira frowned. "Who? Is it someone you know?"

Hermine nodded, lips pursed together. "It's...well," she lowered her voice, hissing, "it's Svetlana."

A moment of blank shock, then Clara sat back on her heels, letting out a long whistle. "You mean Viktor's brother's wife? Well. That's complicated. I see what you mean. Come on then, step through and we'll talk about it."

Clara closed the connection so she could use it, and moments later she was in Clara's living room, a giant, formal thing with the exception of a few cozy settees and chairs set right in front of the fireplace. Clara was in casual wear, as was Krasmira, though the latter was still in her robes.

"Are you certain?" Clara asked her as she brushed off her robes. "Here, come sit by the fire," her friend directed her, even as she was clearly distracted by what Hermione had told her mere minutes earlier. "Really, Mia, are you absolutely certain?"

"As certain as I can be given the circumstances. Her voice was rather...clear. And loud." She winced at the recollection, and Clara grimaced.

In her own seat, Krasmira stirred. "Before I became….distracted at the Ball, I saw you standing with the elder Krum, his wife, and Quickfoot. It was very interesting to me that when you branched off, Kosta came with you."

Clara sat up. "Do you think…"

Kramira gave a minute shrug. "I don't know."

"Know what?" Hermione looked between the two of them. "What am I missing?"

"In Pureblood society," her mentor stated, "it's not terribly uncommon for one spouse to, hm, investigate, let's say, the other."

"And by 'investigate'," Clara clarified, "she means to find dirt on them. In some cases, one will hire a, er, assistant to frame the other. For example, Kosta could have, uh, hired Mr Quickfoot to, uh, help him." Uncharacteristically for her, Clara fairly squirmed as she spoke around what she was trying to say.

Hermione's mind fairly raced as she tried to decipher her roundabout statement. "Are you saying that you think that Kosta hired Magellan to sleep with Svetlana?" she asked incredulously.

"I'm saying it's a possibility." Unfazed by the topic, Krasmira leaned forward and refilled her drink.

"But why?" she asked, aghast.

"Money."

"Money?"

Krasmira sighed, somewhat put-upon. "Yes, Hermione, money. Purebloods are typically dynastic. They marry to align with other, more powerful families in an exchange of goods and services. Marriages are notoriously difficult, almost impossible, to get out of for the reason that most of them are supposed to be binding. As in, forever."

However," she continued, "sometimes, when things are established enough business-wise or if a better opportunity arises, or, more rarely, one of the people involved in the marriage actually falls in love with another person, one family will decide to cut things off. At that point, the family will typically scheme on how to extract themselves from the divorce in the most intact way as possible."

"And proven infidelity is the best way to do that?" To hear things explained so clinically made her recoil. Even her parents probably would not do something as cold-blooded as that.

"It is one of the commonly accepted grounds for dissolution, though the proof has to be ironclad. Other grounds for divorce are things like infertility, insanity, and the like."

No wonder Viktor seemed so worked up when he spoke about love. "This is positively feudal, you do know that, right? In the Muggle world, people get divorced all the time."

"Ah, but do they keep all their belongings?" Krasmira asked archly. "The scheming we are discussing is the means to an end to do just that. Purebloods are notoriously greedy when it comes to their fortunes. After all, it's just not done to give up gold or heirlooms unless it's done for a reason."

She ran a hand over her face and wished that she didn't have to think of this. Damn Sirius and his womanizing ways. "So what you're saying is that Magellan was, er, hired to this purpose?"

"I wouldn't put it past Kosta." To her surprise, it was Clara who answered. Leaning forward with her hands on her knees, she added, "He is rather mercenary, just like his father."

Thinking of Kosta, she compared what little she knew of him to what she had seen in Grigori Krum. He had seemed...softer, somehow, as if Milena and Viktor's innate goodness had rubbed off on him just a little. "I can't picture him doing that," she admitted. "It doesn't seem like him."

Neither of them demurred, although Clara replied, "I can't say I know him well enough to do say either way."

"But regardless," Hermione said, standing up in her agitation, "I don't know what to say. For that matter, I don't know who to tell. Is it even my business? But the fact it's Magellan makes me feel like it is. He's my guardian. It makes me feel responsible, somehow."

Krasmira stood and came over to her. "Hermione," she said sternly, gripping her by the shoulders. "If there is one thing I want you to learn this summer, it is that you are not responsible for other people's actions. The only thing you are in charge of is your own actions."

Clara came up on her other side, and the three of them stood in a loose semicircle. "I agree. Mia," the older woman's hand briefly touched her arm, "this is a shite situation. Honestly, I'm not sure what you should do."

Hermione chewed on her lip furiously as she thought. "If I tell Kosta, or even Viktor for that matter, I run the risk of imploding their marriage." But she knew that what she had heard was right. It was definitely Svetlana. She'd recognize that silken voice anywhere, and the way she'd seen the other witch cozy up to Sirius...it wasn't beyond belief, honestly. "But if I don't tell them, then don't I become complicit in hiding the secret? Aren't I just as bad as them?"

Either way, it felt like everyone was going to lose something. She was either a homewrecker or a secret-keeper. To her, being silent felt like being complicit.

Looking at both of the, she asked, "What should I do? What should I say?"

"I think, Mia, that this is a decision you're going to have to make." Krasmia's tone was gentle but implacable. "Make sure it's one you can live with. Perhaps sleeping on it will make things clearer?"

She shook her head. "I just think...I think I need to tell them. If I were Kosta, I would want to know that my spouse was being unfaithful, because I wouldn't want to be married to them for a moment longer."

Supportively, Clara told her, "If that's what you think, then that's what you should do. Even if you do tell him, you need to remember that whatever he decides to do has no bearing on you. Once you tell him, that's where your responsibility ends. Don't put so much on yourself."

It was easy to say, she felt, but harder to put in practice. Later that night, ensconced comfortably in one of Clara's guest rooms, she couldn't get it out of her mind. First Viktor's face, then Kosta's, then Svetlana's and Sirius' floated through her mind's eye. What was right? What would hurt people less? Would knowing be more hurtful in the short run but more beneficial in the long run?

All of this was overlaid by the way her heart stuttered and then raced in equal measure when she thought of Viktor. Viktor, who she had realised would be the right man, as they had labeled the idea earlier. Viktor, who was steadfast and loyal and determined. Viktor, who encouraged her and helped her and always, always welcomed her. Being with Viktor felt easy. It felt right.

It also helped that he was quite handsome, she admitted to herself in the secrecy of her own mind. She had started to notice it during the Festival of Blessings, when he was drenched in sweat. His shirt had clung to his torso and his hair, which had grown out a bit, had stuck to his face. However, it was his mastery of his magic—the utter ease with which he had wielded it to harness the four elements—that had made her unable to look away.

The Ball had only worsened her awareness. He had been so solicitous of her, coming over to check on her when she had been talking with the Malfoys (whose behaviours still confused her to no end). And the way he had held her as they moved across the floor, so sure but gentle…

She shivered at the memory.

But it didn't matter. None of it mattered. There was no way that he could want someone like her. He was a powerful wizard in his own right. He was smart, and kind, and handsome. On top of that, he was also, of course, somehow a professional Quidditch player and one of the scions of one of the most powerful houses in Bulgaria.

He was amazing, and he certainly wasn't destined for someone like her.

And even if he were, she had told him that she wasn't interested in dating! Right before she had realised her feelings.

She groaned and turned over, shoving a pillow over her face.

It was best to just realize that things were not meant to be between her and Viktor Krum.

Eeeeeeee! It finally happened and they're finally on the same page...PHEW. I have been just waiting and waiting and was so excited I did a happy dance when I realised today was that day.

Please take a sec to let me know what you think!