Hermione had been acting rather strangely for the past week, and Viktor could trace it directly back when they had sat together and discussed their views on romantic relationships. She'd behaved rather...unusually for the rest of the day, and when she'd left Viktor had been unsure what was wrong. Usually she told him, but this time she hadn't said a word, instead looking a bit wide-eyed and close to panicked as she hid behind the sliver of a smile. Even his direct inquiry as to what was wrong hadn't yielded any results.

Sighing, Viktor stood up from his desk and put on his robes, glad for an excuse to invite her along with him to Belnik. Perhaps, he thought, she would be more open to talking about whatever was bothering her if they were out and about doing something interesting. When she'd gone to town with him for the Festival of Blessings, she'd been bright-eyed and curious about everything. Hopefully she would enjoy going along with him this time and would relax enough that she would tell him what was wrong.

When he apparated to the road in front of Hermione's house, it was clear that Hermione was home. In fact, both Quickfoot and Hermione were present, as they were having a somewhat heated discussion that Viktor could hear through one of the windows, which was cracked open.

"—grew is taken care of," Quickfoot was saying, his tone placating, "and all I have to do is get a few things to take care of a few trivial things, like getting a bracelet, before we leave for the summer."

Although his curiosity was high and he felt loath to interrupt, his mother's admonition never to eavesdrop rang in his ears. As he approached the front door, intent on knocking, Hermione retorted, voice loud, What does that even mean? Taken care of? And what trivial things? What are you even talking about? If you would just tell me outright what's going on, these discussions would be much easier to have!"

Viktor rapped on the door in quick succession. There was a deafening silence, and a few moments later the door opened by Quickfoot, whose eyes flickered with irritation. Hermione, he saw, was standing in the living room by the couch, her cheeks flushed with temper.

"Viktor, what are you doing here?" she asked in surprise. "Is everything alright?"

"I feel as though I should be asking you that." He flicked a look at Quickfoot as he walked by him. "I couldn't help but overhear that it sounds like he's leaving you again."

Behind him, he could feel Quickfoot's eyes boring holes into him as the older wizard snapped, "It's not your business if I am. Who are you to ask questions like that?"

He planted himself in between the two occupants of the house as he glowered at Quickfoot. "I wouldn't need to ask questions if you would just do your job as her guardian."

Something flashed over his face—guilt, perhaps?—too quickly for Viktor to parse, but anger was quick to follow and settled in the curve of Quickfoot's lips and the set of his jaw. The man snapped, "Are you implying I'm not?"

"Would you call leaving a young girl on her own for days at a time in an unfamiliar country when she's too young to apparate and has few resources to call upon doing your job?" He retorted, settling more deeply into his feet in case he needed to fight. "I, for one, would not. And what about the emotional impact? The amount of times I've seen her cry—"

"Viktor." Hermione interrupted, her tone sharp. "That's enough."

"I'm only saying the truth!"

She closed her eyes for a long moment before opening them. "It's between me and Magellan. No," she held up a hand when he went to protest. "Leave it, Viktor. Please. Just...Leave it. Why are you here?"

He ground his teeth together as Quickfoot glared at him from across the room. Why wouldn't she confront him? Why wouldn't she stand up for herself? It was clear as day that the pitiful excuse for a wizard before him was leaving her again. It was all he ever did, it appeared.

But again and again she wouldn't stand up for herself. Always, she refused. What was preventing her from doing so?

"I wanted to see if you'd go to Belnik with me," he replied at last, his jaw working. "I wanted to see how well the Blessing took, though it might be too early still to see any real changes."

"You should go," Quickfoot interjected. "You enjoyed it last time you went."

"But—"

Quickfoot crossed the room and placed a hand on her shoulder. "No buts. Enjoy yourself. I'll be back in time for the Cup, I promise. I'm just trying to track down a few friends to say goodbye to since our time's almost done here, that's all. Well, that and a few other things, but they'll be quick. I won't screw this up again."

Viktor's heart ached to see the uncertainty and wariness painted across her face. "You'll be back in time? Really?"

"The Cup is the 25, and I'll be back the night before," he promised. "In the morning, we'll go just as we talked about. Nothing will stop me from being here."

Viktor would believe it when he'd seen it. Knowing Quickfoot's unreliability, Viktor had already arranged to come by in the early morning the day of the Cup to ensure Hermione would be able to get to the stadium in Britain by sharing his portkey with her. He'd be able to come and go as he pleased due to his status as a player, so he could drop her off and return to Bulgaria if he needed to.

"You promise?" Hermione searched Quickfoot's eyes again.

Quickfoot nodded. "I do. I give you my word."

"Okay." Exhaling, she stepped out of his hold and came toward Viktor, who held out a hand. "Fine. I'll see you in a few days."

When she took Viktor's hand, he transferred it to the crook of his elbow as he stared at Quickfoot, who picked up a bag and shouldered it. "If you don't come back," Viktor warned, "I'm not the only person you're going to have coming after you."

Quickfoot stared at him incredulously before huffing a laugh and giving a slow shake of his head. "You'd best find out the measure of the wizard you're threatening before you do so, boy."

"And you'd best think on my words. I may be one wizard, and I might be a boy, as you say, but I know how this country works. My family is powerful, and so are our allies. We can make your life exceedingly unpleasant, Mr Quickfoot."

The man laughed again at Viktor's threats, which made his blood boil. "You're a good one, Krum. Take care of her, while I'm gone, will you?"

And then, without waiting for a response, he apparated straight from the living room.

"I'm going to kill him." Viktor glared at where Quickfoot had been standing only moments earlier.

"Stop it," Hermione implored him, tense and upset. "Please, Viktor. I know what you're doing, and I appreciate it, but...the summer is almost over, and when we get back to Britain, things will be different. Really, they will."

"I find myself having a hard time believing that."

She winced. Hesitating for a long moment, she finally said, "I've never said it in so many words, but Quickfoot...well, he's standing in as my guardian for the summer. Obviously you've noticed we look nothing alike. But I...my parents are muggles, right? And, well...they wouldn't have been willing to come with me for the summer, even if they could have. So Headmaster Dumbledore...arranged for Magellan to stand as my guardian for the summer."

Headmaster Dumbledore? As in the Headmaster of Hogwarts? Viktor gave a little shake of his head. That seemed...unusual, to say the least. "Why not the Ministry?"

"The Ministry?" she repeated blankly.

"Yes. The government? I believe it's the Ministry of Magic? They would normally handle things like this, or at the very least have a hand in this matter."

Hermione looked uncomprehending. "They...would? Well, it's no matter. Headmaster Dumbledore helped because he also had a hand in arranging my time with Mistress Lazarov. Him and Madam Pomfrey, the Mediwitch at Hogwarts."

"And speaking of Hogwarts," she hurried on, clearly eager to be done with the conversation about Quickfoot, "there are so many things that I would like to show you. The lake is beautiful, for one, but Hogwarts has so many secrets that you wouldn't find unless you were looking for it! Also, we also have a wonderful library. I can show you everything you need to know about that."

Fine. If she wanted to move on, he'd let her. But this wasn't the last time he'd speak of it, the end of the summer or not. "It sounds wonderful. It's a good thing that I am determined to secure a spot in Durmstrang's contingent so that I may come to Hogwarts, yes?"

"I…" she swallowed and turned a bit pink as he moved even closer and tucked a curl behind her ear. "Yes. Of course. I'm sure you'll make it on the team, given how much you've been studying and all."

At her reaction, he suppressed the urge to smile. She wasn't immune to him, after all. Perhaps...perhaps he stood a chance with her, after all.

Indulgently, he reassured her, "I'll make it, if only so I can get a personal tour from you."

Her eyes shone, luminous and bright, as she gazed up at him, and Viktor wished desperately that he had more time to be with her. Their time together was drawing to a rapid close, as evidenced by Quickfoot's actions, and Viktor acutely felt the time passing as though it were sand falling through his fingers.

There were so many things he wished to do with her and not nearly enough time for it, especially considering that he wanted to say something to her of his feelings — needed to, rather. However, this close to the Cup, he was loath to shake things up. Partially because of Islov and his ever present, looming threat, but mostly because he feared what he would be like if she refused his suit since he still wasn't certain how she felt about him, her reaction just moments ago notwithstanding.

If she rejected his suit, he certainly wouldn't be in any kind of shape to play in the Cup, that was for sure. Even if the potential impact on his performance wasn't a consideration, he wanted to get something from the family stores before he declared himself, something (or things) that was weighty enough to convey how important she was to him. He wanted to show her, physically, the magnitude of his feelings.

No. No, it was not yet time. It had to be right after the Cup, perhaps even that night, if he could somehow get her alone.

But not now. No, not now. And so he set those yearning, lingering thoughts aside, placed his hand over hers where it still rested on his arm, and said, "Let's go to Belnik, shall we?"

Just as they had last time, Viktor apparated them to the edges of town. This time, however, everything was much more normal, with all the celebratory decorations and the like safely stowed away until the next holiday came around. There were people coming into and out of shops as they did their business, and many of them tipped their heads at them or held up a hand in greeting before continuing on their way.

A tall, lithe witch with silvered hair in an intricate updo and pale periwinkle robes waited for them at the fountain. Viktor smiled upon seeing the family's retainer. "Nevena," he greeted cordially. "Thank you for meeting me here today."

"Foolish boy," Nevena scolded him. "Where else would I be if it wasn't watching over your troublesome self?"

"I don't know," he replied casually, her age-old greeting making him warm, "doing one of the many other things that we ask you to?"

"Ridiculous," she sniffed. "As if I would be anywhere else. Ah, Miss Granger, I believe?" She stuck out her hand and Hermione shook it, briefly. "It's a pleasure to see you again. Come to see the impact of the Rite, have you?"

Hermione looked at Viktor uncertainly before nodding. "Viktor invited me along."

"I thought it would be enjoyable for her," he told his retainer. "One last foray into Bulgaria proper before her time here is up."

"That's right," Nevena replied, nodding. "You're only here for the summer, is it?"

"Yes ma'am. I'll be going back to school at Hogwarts almost directly after the Cup is over."

"Well then." Nevena set off briskly, leaving them to follow. "Best make the most of it, shall we? I want to show you several different locations so we can make sure the Blessing took properly across type and geography. The first is just outside of town. It's a short walk."

"What will we be looking at?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Different crops," Viktor told her. "We grow a variety of both magical and non-magical crops. The non-magical crops we generally sell locally at a very subsidised price or we export to regions that are unable to grow them. Some we sell in bulk to large institutions, though, but that's on a per contract basis. The magical crops we sell to a very specific set of organizations and individuals who we have extensive history with, although that all varies per ingredient as some are rare and others common."

"It's not infrequent that bidding wars come up as our slow-to-mature items finally are ready," Nevena input, her voice proud. "We produce highly potent ingredients based using our crops that potions masters and apothecaries the world over covet. A lot of that is due to our ritualistic approach to stewarding the land."

"The Blessing," Hermione breathed in realisation.

"Not just that," Viktor was quick to add. "We use magic in every step of the process—so long as it benefits the specific crop, of course—from imbuing water with magic to fertilizing with refuse from magical creatures. It's a bit complex—"

"He's understating things," Nevena cut in drily.

"But it's worth it," he finished proudly. "It's all rather incredible to think about, especially on the scale in which we do it."

Hermione looked a bit wide-eyed. "I would say so. Just thinking of the possible permutations...wow. How do you even know what the best combinations are?"

He grinned wryly. "Hundreds of years of experimentation and research. That's why our materials are so highly sought after. We know how to do it best, or at least as good as all the others."

Hermione asked several questions, some thought-provoking, as they looked at how the various crops were doing. Viktor liked how she made him think about things in new and different ways, and he liked very much how she seemed to fit so well next to them as they examined first the fireseed and then the squill.

It was easy to imagine a future like this with her, he thought, where she was tucked into him with her hand resting on his arm. She would come look at things with him and make observations he hadn't and ask questions he wouldn't think of. Maybe they'd have lunch in town, first, or even after, and everyone would greet her with the same fondness they did for him.

If she accepted his overture to court her, and if she married him years and years down the line, and if she deigned to move to Bulgaria…if, if, if. But if she did, Viktor could not imagine a witch he wanted more as his partner.

His mouth quirked as he considered how she would add to the Rite of Blessings and the Rite of Renewal that took place in the late spring. Married pairs whose magic complemented each other — as theirs very well might — created more powerful, longer lasting effects, after all.

Yes, he liked the idea of her magic spreading out over the land to breathe life into it very much.

"And you said that things weren't well at all last year?" she was asking Nevena sceptically. "Everything just looks so...healthy. Even the squill, which I've read is really quite impossible to grow, seems in good shape."

"The Blessing," Nevena responded simply, "works wonders. Sending out the magic of one of the family who holds the land works wonders. It saturates the ground, the soil, and all living things, even the air. It's very powerful when done right. When the magic is miscast or when it's not present, things obviously likely won't work. It's the Rituals that truly lets us all plant as we can to such high quality and quantity as we do."

"I knew it was important," Hermione mused, "but I didn't realise how important. Truly, this is so remarkable. Why don't we learn about anything like this in school?"

"Most Pureblood families have private rituals," Viktor explained. "You'll be hard-pressed to find mention of them in textbooks, but most everyone knows basic facts about the families, like what they specialise in, their affinities and natural inclinations, and their alliances and business ties. It's simply something you grow up knowing."

Hermione's brows snapped together, her mouth tight. "So it's another cultural barrier. I'm muggleborn, and everyone just assumes I know these things? I find that incredibly unfair. How am I supposed to find out about them if people don't even tell me they exist?"

Nevena got a look in her eye that Viktor knew meant trouble. "I'm certain Viktor would be willing to tell you about Bulgarian customs. They likely differ in some ways from British customs, but at the very least you'd know a bit more."

"Would you really?" Hermione asked eagerly, squeezing his arm. "I would really be so grateful."

"Of course."

"I think he should start you on social customs," Nevena added helpfully. "Things like courting, dating, and marriage customs, for example, might be particularly helpful."

"Oh, yes." The younger witch nodded seriously. "I'm rubbish at that stuff anyways. I've never paid much attention to those things."

Viktor tried to convey with a glare that he shot over Hermione's head just how much pain and suffering he was going to inflict upon his meddling, troublesome, interfering retainer.

Nevena, unphased, merely shifted her weight to one foot. "I think Viktor would be an excellent tutor. Really. He's very smart, and I daresay he knows quite a lot about those subjects in particular. Anyway, shall we finish up at the greenhouses?"

Hermione obliviously followed Nevena's scheming self along to the greenhouses as Viktor seethed in embarrassment, though his good mood returned as he watched Hermione fairly vibrate with excitement at the monolithic glass building before them.

As Nevena told Hermione about the contents of the greenhouse, Viktor took the time to look everything over. They all appeared healthy, drops of water appearing on the leaves of the chomping cabbages due to the humidity. The air was heavy with magic, fairly thrumming against his senses, and he revelled in the comforting feeling of growth and protection spells woven around him. He had felt this magic, or variations of it, his entire life. It was as comforting to him as the feeling of wind caressing his skin as he flew.

At some point, he had ceased following Nevena and Hermione, instead stopping by the dittany to smell its sweet, heady aroma. The plant was fragile and required careful conditions to flourish, but the wards around the rows it was planted in ensured its environment and temperature were optimised. He loved dittany, for all its fragility, because it had such diverse applications and abilities.

"Viktor?" Hermione stood at the head of the row, her hair curling around her face from the humidity. She looked more relaxed than he had seen her in some time, her posture easy and her eyes bright. "Nevena sent me to find you."

He huffed. Knowing her, she'd probably concocted some kind of excuse so that Hermione would have to come get him. "Of course she did."

They crossed the distance to meet halfway, ending close enough that Viktor could see the variety of browns in her eyes, a kaleidoscope of pieces that made up a beautiful whole. Her face was soft, the lines of tension and uncertainty that had lined her eyes and mouth having smoothed out.

"Mia," he asked softly, "what's been bothering you so badly? I feel as though every time we've met the last few weeks, whether at the stadium or visiting Aigos Minos, you've been tense. Off. Won't you tell me what the matter is so I can help?"

For a moment, she glanced down and away before meeting his eyes once more. "I'm sorry."

Sorry? What was she sorry for?

She bit her lip as she met his eyes again, anxiety making the kaleidoscope of browns flat and dull. "I'm sorry, Viktor," she apologised. "It's not what you think. There's a lot I—it's not just one—" She stopped and rubbed a hand over her face.

"What is it?" he asked, growing alarmed. Taking another step forward toward her, he asked again, "What is it, Mia?"

"I…" Her hands clasped, her fingers twisting around each other. "It's...well. It's Svetlana, Viktor. I...I heard her. With Magellan."

Viktor frowned. "You heard them talking?"

"No." She shook her head vehemently. "Not talking, Viktor. I heard them." She looked at him like he was supposed to know what that meant. "Together. The night we took Milena to Aigos Minos, when I said goodbye—I came through the floo, and I was in the living room, and she—well." She cleared her throat. "I heard them upstairs."

Realisation dawned within him. With it the tranquility he had found was washed away, anger in its place. "Quickfoot and Svetlana?" His tone was dangerous in its softness. "Are you certain?"

She nodded miserably. "I didn't know what to do. Should I not have said anything? I asked Clara Krasmira, and they said that it was up to me, although Krasmira said it could be a scheme on Kosta's part to catch her in the act so that he could prepare divorce proceedings."

Biting her lip and twisting her hands together, she continued, "I just wasn't sure what to say, if anything—but not saying anything is just as bad, I thought, because inaction is a type of action itself."

"No. No, you should've told me."

How could Svetlana do such a thing? He had no preconceived notions about Quickfoot's upright moral standing, but Svetlana had a duty to both Kosta, the House of Krum, and her own family in maintaining even the most basic respect for her marriage to his brother.. A lot had been built on the marriage in terms of an alliance, but that was only a small part of what upset him.

She had betrayed Kosta. She had betrayed the family.

Something like that wasn't to be taken lightly.

He took a step back, his jaw clenched. "I need to go."

"Viktor?"

"I've got to tell Kosta." Thinking rapidly, he said, "You have Nevena here with you. Tell her to take you back to town. I'll meet you there—our family's main offices are on the main road."

"Viktor," she told him, distraught, "I'm sorry."

He moved forward, his fingers coming up to ghost across her cheek. "For what? For doing the right thing? For telling me so I can do what I must? No." He shook his head. "No, don't be sorry."

With that, he apparated away, the heat of her skin lingering on his fingertips as he reappeared at the family's private apparition point within the Krum family's offices.

It was only a moment's work to stride out of the room and down the hall. Without fanfare, he slammed open the door to Kosta's office.

"Brother, I must talk to you."

Kosta, who had been in the middle of penning something, glanced up at the interruption. Whatever he saw in Viktor's expression was cause enough for him to immediately rise from his seat and round the desk. "Viktor, what is it? What has happened?"

His throat was tight enough with rage that it took him a minute to get the words out. "It is Svetlana. That—that kuchka. Mia discovered your wife with Quickfoot when she returned home from visiting Maika."

Rather than looking distraught, or upset, Kosta relaxed, slipping his wand back into its holster from where he'd drawn it. "Ah. I see. That's it?"

Almost apoplectic, Viktor snarled, "What do you mean, 'that's it'? That's precisely it! She is cheating on you with that mangy, despicable artefacts dealer and ruining the family name."

Kosta summoned a glass of water from the sideboard and took a long draught. "Don't be so dramatic. This kind of thing happens more than you know. As you should be aware, given the circles you yourself run in. Infidelity is commonplace, and honestly, this isn't the first time I've been made aware of it. I just don't care enough to do anything about it."

Dumbly, Viktor looked at his brother. "You don't...care enough to do anything about it?"

"As I said."

"But she's your wife!"

"She is the wife that father picked out for me," Kosta corrected. "It was an arranged marriage so we could get access to their plants, Viktor. You'd do well to remember that. Svetlana and I get along well enough so long as we don't make any comments on the others' activities and basically leave each other alone."

"And you're okay with her just...just...gallivanting around, sleeping with whomever she pleases?"

Kosta shrugged a shoulder, leaning against the desk. "Within reason. If it starts to affect any of the family businesses, that is, of course, another story."

Kosta's absolute nonreaction was throwing him for a hard loop. It almost seemed as if he were more upset about it than Kosta.

"And Quickfoot?" he sneered. "Does he get a pass, too? He thinks he can just come in and take one of our women as he pleases."

His brother's face darkened. "Now that is another story. I've been keeping tabs on who Svetlana has been...liaising with. I need definitive proof of their involvement with her, but once I get it, they're enemies of the House of Krum on principle. If they ever so much as step out of line of what I would like, I can easily call them to a duel with proof of their, hm, nefarious activities with my wife. That will bring them to heel easily."

Viktor stared at his brother. Trust Kosta to take a situation like this and turn it into a weapon as nuanced as blackmail. Honestly, he should have known better than to think his brother wouldn't have already been aware of the situation and had a plan in place. Pureblood marriages were considered fairly sacrosanct, which had made Krasmira's suggestion that Kosta had hired Quickfoot to help him get a clean divorce somewhat believable. In fact...

"Just to clarify," he added, "you did not, in fact, hire Quickfoot to sleep with Svetlana so you could get proof of her cheating and get a clean divorce?"

Kosta's calm expression broke, and surprise followed quickly by mirth spun across his face. "No," he replied evenly, "though that would have been a good idea if I were interested in it."

Viktor shifted on his feet. "I don't understand why you're staying with her. She's not a good witch, Kosta. Even if you and I aren't—even if you and I aren't as close as we have been in the past, and we don't always agree on things, I know that she isn't a good match for you. You deserve better than her, brat mi, and you and I both know it."

Idly, Kosta traced the rim of his water glass. "I appreciate your concern, Viktor. Truly, it warms me to hear your worry for me." For once, he seemed completely sincere and straightforward. "However, my wife is not your concern."

"No, listen." He held up a hand when Viktor made to protest. "Svetlana currently suits my needs. Marriage to her ensured that we get an incredible deal on potions ingredients, which gives us an edge over other competitors. The business flourishes so that the family flourishes so that the family magic flourishes, which means the land flourishes and so does everyone who lives on it. What, did you think I didn't care about them?" he asked when Viktor looked at him dumbly. "We are, all of us, intertwined. I do my part as you do yours."

Viktor felt as if he'd never seen Kosta before. He'd always thought of Kosta as being solely bent on the success of the Krum empire, his motives purely economically based. In retrospect, that mode of thinking may have been short-sighted, as the impacts of the companies they owned did not stop with money. Even without taking into account the relationship between success, the family, and their people, the decisions that Kosta made solely about the businesses would affect the people working there.

Clearing his throat, he apologised somewhat humbly, "I feel as if I have done a disservice, brat mi, thinking of you as mercenary."

Kosta pushed off against the desk, walking towards Viktor. "Do not make the mistake of thinking I am not mercenary," he returned dryly. "I am simply mercenary with ulterior motives. Now, let me alleviate your fears about my marriage once and for all. If there ever comes a time when I meet a witch that I cannot live without, that I think could be my partner, that I prize above all, do not be mistaken that I would let her pass me by. I can divest myself of Svetlana, and I can negotiate deals with other suppliers to supplant the losses we would incur. Not easily, mind you, but I could."

Something within him unclenched. "You would not stay in the marriage simply because it is good for the family?"

"Would it be good for the family if I relegated myself to a lifetime of misery when I knew I had passed by something that would bring me untold happiness and fulfillment? No, I would not. And Vitya," here his brother's voice gentled, "I would not make the same mistakes as our parents, should it become my place to have some kind of dominion over your marriage."

"I have seen the damage it has wrought on us all," Kosta continued somberly. "You, me, Maika, and perhaps even Father. No, I would not repeat their mistakes, nor shall I make you when it is your time to make a decision. Though," Kosta commented slyly, his head tilting to the side, "I am thinking you have already, with our little Mia."

He flushed. "Mia is...she is all I could ever want, though I could never have imagined her as being good for me. We are very different, and yet very similar. She fills places and needs within me that I didn't realize I had."

"She is a very interesting witch," Kosta mused, tapping his water glass with a long finger. "Did you know she is of muggle nobility?"

He was hard pressed to contain his shock. "She is?" She had never, not once, hinted as much. Come to think of it, she had never really discussed her parents in much depth, though he knew they haunted her.

The older wizard nodded, his black hair gleaming in the light. "Yes. She mentioned it to me rather offhandedly at the Ball in the context of another conversation. It does explain her poise, however, given that she is able to easily navigate Pureblood society without seeming to realize it, though it's her intrinsic goodness paves the way for her with most people. I enjoyed conversing with her, as she is clearly very intelligent, but I am also very intrigued by the idea of an alliance with her family. We have some business in the Muggle world, but a connection with her family could bring us some kind of power or influence we could use to strengthen ties in that area."

As a blessing, it was certainly very oblique, but Kosta was hardly the type of wizard to be straightforward. "Thank you, brother," he said formally. "I have leave to court her, then?"

At this, Kosta laughed. "Ah, Viktor," he sighed, "yes. Yes, you can, though I would hope you would have done regardless of what I said if you truly feel that way about her. It's not my blessing that you need, though, but rather Father's."

"Father." His mouth curled into a snarl. "As if his blessing matters."

"He is the head of our family," Kosta reprimanded, mouth going flat. "Show him some respect."

"Why would I do that? He respects nothing but himself and his greed."

"Because you must. He is the one who holds your future in his hands."

"Going to sell me off to the highest bidder at his convenience, hm?" Viktor shoved his hands into the pockets of his robes.

"I don't think there's a betrothal contract in force for you yet," Kosta told him, leaning against the back of his desk. "I've tried to prevent that as best as I can so you can carve your own path, but you know Father listens to no counsel except his own. I can only do so much."

"I know." He sighed, the anger powering him suddenly vanishing as fast as it had come. "Do I ever. Perhaps it might help if I wait awhile to formally ask him so that his anger about playing in the Cup has passed. And...and perhaps if I perform well in school or at the TriWizard Tournament, then he will be more predisposed toward granting such a request? Perhaps then I could ask."

Months. It would be months before he could ask for a formal blessing, but it didn't mean he was going to wait. No, he would continue with his plans, and if his father became aware of it and confronted him, he would address it then.

However, Viktor didn't foresee that happening. Grigor Krum did not often deign to get involved in Viktor's affairs, except to command him to do something or to disapprove of his activities, so Viktor thought that the time difference wouldn't be a huge problem. Likely as not, his father wouldn't be aware of his and Hermione's relationship until Viktor brought it up.

"Waiting for a better time would be wise, especially if you can do something that would please him." Kosta sighed. "Though I wish it weren't necessary for you to have think and act like this, it is a good approach to take. And really, Viktor, I do think that she will be of benefit to the family. If we can learn enough about her own family—about their connections, their alliances, their connections—we can more easily persuade father that she is an acceptable match."

"Right." Viktor nodded. "I can do that."

"Good." Kosta paused, then, before venturing, "Viktor?"

"Yes?"

"I don't just like her for her potential alliances and benefits, you know." Kosta's mouth held the faint hint of a smile. "I like her because of how you look when you're around her and how you act when you talk of her."

"I…" Viktor found himself at a loss for words.

"Don't worry about the whens and the logistics. You're young. There's no rush."

"I won't," he promised. "I just...what if someone else realises her value? What if she found someone she likes better than me?"

His brother's smile grew and became amused. "I sincerely doubt the last will be an issue. Now, make sure you have a gift from the family vaults when you ask to court her. Women like things like that."

Viktor nodded. "I was already planning on it."

"Excellent." He reached out and lightly gripped Viktor's shoulder, giving it a squeeze before stepping back and returning to his desk. "If we're quite finished discussing our women, I have a meeting in…." he checked the time. "Twenty-two minutes that I must finish preparing for."

Being so dismissed, Viktor left the office, his emotions a wild mix of leftover anger, elation, and uncertainty. He couldn't count the last time he had had such a conversation with Kosta, where they spoke candidly and honestly with each other. More often than not, they tended to come to loggerheads with each other, clashing over things.

Some of the blame for that certainly lay at his feet, he reflected, if he had simply taken the time to better understand his brother, who did not seem so unreasonable after all, perhaps that wouldn't have been the case. It could be that he had simply written off Kosta as a copycat of their father too quickly, dismissing him. He may have done Kosta a disservice.

Long after he had returned home for the night and prepared for bed, he remained thoughtful. If he had misunderstood Kosta's character and motivations so badly, who else was he misinterpreting?

A Dramatic Re-enacment of Yesterday:

Me, at about 10am: Constance, what do you think about me adding in four paragraphs here about xyz? I know it's done but I think this might help with that thing we talked about.

C: I like it.

Me: Okay, I'll write it out and you can check it out!

Me, at around 10pm after work has wound up: Okay, time for that quick edit, a little double checky, and then I post.

**Spongebob noise of "sometime later"**

Me, looking up to check the time: Right. Why did I think it would be four paragraphs? It's never just four paragraphs with this fic. It's 1583 words, and it's now midnight. Too late for checking. I'm gonna have to post tomorrow.

Me: Dammit. They're gonna kill me.

Sorry it's late, but here it is, plus an additional 1500 words! I also will be uploading newly edited versions of chs. 27.5 (interlude), 28, and 29 because I got caught up doing that today. If you get additional updates, that is why.