(Disillusioned) Gour de Tazenat, Puy-de-Dôme, Massif Central
Viktor muttered under his breath, cursing for the nth time as he trudged through tightly packed bushes and clumsily hopping over uneven ground, with sweat profusely running down his face. His senses were on high alert, keeping a steady grip on his mostly empty sports bag that's strapped high on his back as he ruminated on his current predicament.
Last night, after he read about Hermione's improving health – which he internally rejoiced in – their coach and Trainer Valkov called for everyone's attention. After checking they have the players' undivided attention, the coach proceeded to update them on the new security measures that the Sports Committee on Magical Protection put in place for their camp and the stadium as more spectators are projected to arrive in droves for the match in a few days' time.
Viktor was, at first, surprised they bothered to do this. As a longtime Quidditch fan himself, he knows firsthand how the centuries-old, high-risk sport drew as much people as the skilled free men-at-arms that sought glory during Roman times from across the Adriatic Sea. Although using wands to assault players to death is strictly banned during play in the air – he can't really comment on the heated skirmishes that happens on the ground – the fact remains that the amount of bloodshed that goes on in the field has always been a crowd pleaser now as it is with the ancient mugul 'game'. So the presence of magi-guardsmen is obvious and is expected, as is the amount of people that will attend a match that will pit the reigning champions against the, apparent, favorite underdogs in the league.
What isn't expected though is the hundreds of box seats the French Sports Commission was frantically adding at the last minute. Trainer Valkov added that there were even calls to add seats at the nosebleed section, many willing to risk high altitude sickness for the match.
When murmurs of amazement and feelings of intrigue arose, their coach slyly looked over at Viktor, who froze in getting the plate of food Mira was about to hand to him. Trainer Valkov coughed lowly before explaining that news of their youngest player's participation in the main roster leaked, and several heads turned even from other continents, showing unexpected interest in the European Championship. The coach and Trainer Valkov then said a few final words before dismissing them for the night.
The entire camp had gone silent, with most players glancing at him furtively or blatantly with a raised brow. He did his best to return their gaze head-on, not really sensing any negative emotions per se, but the urge to slouch again with averted eyes was a strong compulsion. Only the hands that push at his back prevented this – Georgi anticipated his tendency to hide from attention.
It's not that Viktor doesn't get along well with his team. On the contrary, aside from Captain Vulchanov's brief interrogation when they first met, he developed an easy camaraderie with them. This was especially comforting during the long, grueling days of training where they are all equally tested on their physical and mental endurance. And despite being the only fledgling in the flock, he never felt like they treated him like a child. They encouraged and educated him; never called him demeaning names or disparaged him for still being a student. They just saw his potential and worked on how to best integrate him into their circle.
It's with this thoughtfulness that made him want to never disappoint them, training until his entire body smoked – at least not at the Institute. Those weeks at the healing hall were exceedingly boring, regardless of the frequent visits from his friends. It was also a good thing he's always 'asleep' whenever the Highmaster comes to visit. He doesn't know how those 'meetings' will turn out if he's 'awake'.
The loud bark of laughter from their Captain suddenly broke the tension.
"Hahaha ! That face ! Viktor, we would have thought you'd be thrilled and flattered at the attention you're getting, not look as if you're mourning over your carrier falcon's death that died in front of you."
"Not particularly. No," Viktor said in a deadpan, quickly glancing at said bird of prey that's snoozing peacefully on his perch inside their tent. "I'm just thinking I need to be more creative."
"With your infamous escapes? I don't doubt that!" Captain Vulchanov chortled again.
It's then Viktor noticed that everyone else is laughing and smiling, some even giving him pressed thumbs for his future excursions, and using said fists to lightly punch him on the arms or back as he pass by to collect his dinner.
Finally letting out the breath he unconsciously withheld, he took his team mates' teasing in stride, rolling his eyes at the babble about getting more sponsors because of him. It's not that it's unrealistic – more often than not, when individual players are recognized for something or other, the entire team gets their share in the wand light. He just doesn't want to get ahead of himself.
Although…
The corner of his lips tugged up slightly as he felt the crinkle of parchment in his pocket.
It might not be too bad to…demonstrate his best a little more in this particular game. But that might cost them the cup – and maybe his life – so he'll keep his prancing as reasonable as possible – high winds and two one-hundred-and-fifty-pound speeding iron orbs aside.
If he can figure out how to do that effectively and not make a fool out of himself that is. He shuddered at the thought that he might need to ask Georgi for advice.
As if listening in on his thoughts, the rowdy duo bantered about Viktor's imminent 'appointment' as they retreated into their tent, taking them longer than usual to settle down, and leaving a mess of his clothes strewn about the carpeted floor. Only a white shirt with red and black Bulgarian embroidery down the long sleeves, dark brown leather waistcoat, dark pants and matching boots was the outfit that met Mira's and Georgi's careful scrutiny.
The odd late night should have been an indication to him of the series of events that is about to unfold the following day. But the allure of – what he thinks is – cloud-soft, golden-brown curls, the image of shy eyes, and the heat of small blushes pulled him deep into his dreams, surrendering unconditionally into oblivion.
As he woke, slowly and hazily, he mindlessly stared at the bright canopy above him for what felt like an eternity. He knitted his brows, wondering why the thought of the sun shining down on the tent felt wrong somehow.
Wait…sun?
With a sudden rush of blood in his veins, he stumbled over to his equipment, ignoring the black spots in his vision as he looked for his practice clothes in a panic. After finding his bag was empty except for a few items, he groaned while rubbing at his face. He remembered the couch and Trainer Valkov gave them all a rare free day since the stadium will be used by the home team today – and just one day? They're even more conceited than he thought.
When his head hit the pillow again, he eyes closed for one split second before flickering wide open, hurrying to get to the floating clothes off his dresser, the slight rumble of his stomach reminding him why he had to endure Mira's and Georgi's nitpicking in the first place.
When he dashed from the tent with a shake of his head, he half-wittedly thought to wash his face at the lake, thinking that the cold water would wake the rest of him up quicker.
He should have known that was his second mistake.
The noisy clatter of feet and rush of different levels of excitement had him swiveling his head at the source, staring in growing horror at the visitors' camp he forgot about was just meters away. He realized he walked farther from the players' camp than he should have, standing at the side of the lake that was closest to the organized plot of land reserved for spectators and journalists.
The nearest witches that were initially caught off-guard at his appearance rapidly projected strong feelings of delight and desire, almost making him physically shrink back. Instead, with careful movements, he made an about-face, unconsciously brushing water into his hair as he cleared his vision. Only his eyes roamed in all directions as he stoically started walking away, searching for the quickest route into the forest all while pretending this is part of his normal routine.
He did his best to ignore the mixed emotions coming off from the growing crowd, as well as the feel of appreciative eyes at his back, treading carefully like the bird their team is named after among watchful hunters – his publicist nagged him about calling them predators when he heard Viktor mutter about it some time ago. He doesn't apply that to all of them, he defended. But he's not wrong about the most invasive of them. The older wizard just pursed his lips in thought and amended, "As long as it's not out loud, please. You need to save face."
Sighting a break in the tree line, his brisk walk turned into a jog, ignoring the calls for his name from familiar voices near the players' camp.
It's then he realized his third mistake – he forgot his wand.
He sprinted then, thanking the great wizards of old for his endurance and strength training. He can at least outrun the crazies until he can find a good hiding spot.
After what felt like hours of sneaking and lurking, here he is now – wherever here is – trying to catch his breath, hiding his presence as best as he can by pulling the leaves closer to the limb he's perched on, and feeling utterly disappointed he won't be able to see his custodia. His state is not even fit to be seen by her. From the position of the sun, he deduced its way over lunch time and she would have been back at the Delacours by now. His body slumped against the rough bark of the tree trunk, slowly coming off of his high.
Although he can't feel anything from his position so far, without the Mirage spell, he won't be able to let his guard down for anything until…maybe…sundown…
A deep growl from his stomach made him thud his head back repeatedly.
Looks like he's in for a long, long wait.
-{-}-
"I do not know, Gabrielle. It is late."
"So? If he is half the gentleman big sister makes him out to be, he should not go away without a, how you English say, 'by-your-leave'. Even if that means he goes hungry," Gabrielle reasoned without remorse, directing their family's familiars ahead of them. The youngest Delacour is determined she should be involved in any more 'development' with her new friend, not wanting to miss anything that goes under her nose. Again.
Hermione just sighed and shook her head, hiding the wry smile from the little witch who might interpret it as encouragement. She unconsciously played with the chain on her left wrist as she and Gabrielle rambled towards her 'reading nook'.
No matter what she said at this point, Hermione's certain that the silvery-blonde whirlwind will do whatever she wants, including meddling in her non-existent love life. She's oddly flattered at Gabrielle's indignation when she told her about the lack of attention she garners from the boys back in Hogwarts though.
Well, as far as she knows anyway. But she's at least ninety percent convinced that they don't go for the bookish type. The sporty ones? Definitely. Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell's popularity is proof of this.
But if she were to really think about it, she assumes someone like Percy seems ideal. He seems very committed in his relationship, and his drive for excellence makes him a good role model. She doesn't doubt he'll make Head Boy this coming year.
Or maybe someone as loving and affectionate as her dad. He's very thoughtful to mother, but he's an absolute goofball to her – the price of being his daughter. But no matter how bad his humor is, and no matter how much she might complain about it, she knows it's always with the best intentions.
Or maybe like...
A flash of Mr. Lebedev's profile made her blush, making Gabrielle look up and narrow her eyes in suspicious. Hermione just shook her head with a wave of dismissal.
It seems shallow but, she can't deny her teacher's husband is, simply put, a beautiful man, even with greying hair. Or should she say whitening hair?
She can't imagine him being in anything less elegant than his three piece suits that he wears like a uniform. Even Fleur looked over in interest after he escorted them to the inn. His looming height though is intimidating yet…protective? Hermione can't help but feel safe whenever he's around at the studio while she's in session with Mrs. Lebedeva. A silent, yet comforting presence.
All this aside, these things are not a priority. She still needs to decide how many electives she'll take and where to find the necessary references. Her studies are more fascinating than boys can ever be.
At least…up to this point, she silently admitted. But…
She lifted her wrist again, the twinkle of golden light reflecting against her skin.
After studying the instructions of this peculiar little trinket several times in her bedroom, she opted to ask the Delacour couple on their opinion of such a device and if they've heard of it before.
"How very peculiar. Very peculiar indeed," rumbled Monsieur Lucien while rubbing at his little goatee.
"How so? Does this not mean that she is an exceptional student, no? Like our dear girls," Madam Apolline said fondly, beaming towards her daughters over the breakfast table. Fleur flicked her hair with a slight nod in response while Gabrielle raised her nose up with a proud smile.
Monsieur Lucien chuckled. "Of course! And all our new friends are exceptional! But ah, this…well, this is another matter entirely," he continued with raised brows. "I am not sure how wise this is, even if it is sanctioned by your Ministry, Miss Hermione," he commented, reverting to English when he glanced at her parents.
"What do you mean, Lucien? Should we be worried?" her dad interjected, setting his morning cuppa down.
"No. No worries. Not really anyway. But this is the first time I heard this is used for academic purposes. And for a student no less.You have to understand, time is still a mystery, even for us. We're able to measure it by the fall of the sun and rise of the moon; develop the concept of sequences and events; progress and history; but to absolutely dedicate oneself to studying it? To manipulate it? Only a few has seriously paid it mind – time magic I mean. It would take more than one's lifetime to comprehend honestly.
And let's not get started about immortality! Monsieur Flamel will be able to answer that better. But from what we heard, any year now, he and his lovely beloved will be able to rest. Shame really. His almost seven centuries worth of knowledge would have made for an interesting conversation." Monsieur Lucien nodded, with a thoughtful raise of his cup. The pause gave her mother the chance to translate the other sentences to make the gist of the conversation more sensible for dad.
Hermione fidgeted, remembering what Harry said about his conversation with the Headmaster in the school infirmary two years ago. She doesn't suppose revealing about the destruction of the Philosopher's Stone is an appropriate topic addition so she kept silent.
"Time itself is rarely, if ever, tampered with," Monsieur Lucien continued, "and unlike your Ministry, we don't necessarily have many of those things. We don't feel we need to. We believe everything runs at its own course, at its own pace.
What's the safety threshold again, dear?"
"It says maximum of five, Monsieur."
"Ah yes. To prevent any significant changes to the progression, no? To answer your question better, William, Time-Turners, despite the bewitchment done on the magical artifacts, are still considered unstable magic. Or more accurately, the charm in place is unstable. If you ever insisted – but I'm not saying you will, dear – on going beyond the stated limit, serious consequences can happen, not only to you but also the people around you. Possibly. Probably.
We can't really comprehend time or its consequences – aside from the certainty of death after your time is up," Monsieur Lucien started to chuckle at his quip but quickly turned it into coughs after seeing the Grangers wide-eyed stares, "so, ehem, certain laws are in place to make sure we don't alter anything, uhh, too life changing."
Her mother shook her head. "Not too life changing? I think otherwise. Our daughter's life is on the line here," her mother said firmly, hands holding on tightly to the table cloth. Hermione noticed her dad closed one of his hands over hers, soothing her mother down, before feeling his eyes on her and the Delacours with a rare grave expression.
Hermione can only avert her own down to her lap, the golden chain in her hands stretching as she played with it. She can't blame her parents for being so worried. They've already discussed at length to continue her education despite the risks – an apparent by-product of the unpredictability of magic, and possibly because of her association with Harry. That last idea though wasn't really a strong contention with her parents. They simply think he's at the wrong place at the wrong time; and being discouraged from exploring his potential because of his relations just adds to their sympathy for him.
"So, the point is, as long as Hermione is within the limits, or at best, limits herself to only one or two hours, she'll be alright?" Hermione understood the last one was a request directed at her so she nodded, not wanting to make them worry more than they should. The French couple smiled at them around their mouthfuls, murmuring their agreement as well.
After taking a deep breath, her mother turned to her, reaching out to brush a few curly strands out of her eyes with familiar affection. "Just to be clear, we're not trying to dictate you, my heart. I'm still edgy about this but…thinking it over, you should give it a go, yeah? Your Head of House must have gone through a massive amount of paperwork just to get you this. So, it's definitely no doddle. Its good manners to reciprocate with the best grades you can possibly earn. Let's just, let's just hope this year won't go pear-shaped on you. Goodness, you haven't had a good track record."
"Record? What kind?" piped Gabrielle with great curiosity, after her older sister patiently translated the conversation. Although, she avoided much of the colloquialism that were just positively…English.
The Grangers smiled humorously at each other before Hermione volunteered to relay the…interesting…bits of her wizarding school life so far.
"'Ermione! Look! How strange. Why would they fly up to there?"
"What?"
They both looked around, seeing the flutter move up in synchronized formation, like how hundreds of birds would move if one or a hundred of them would change course from one way to another. They swirled and spun, until forming a somewhat straight pattern towards the leaves up above, towards one cluster of branches –
"Ax? Kakvo e tova?"
"Youpi! See? The swallows never fail at finding."
"That's him? He sounds…off. Did they hurt him? Can they hurt him?"
"'Ermione. Be serious. They are such sweetlings. They cannot harm anything bigger than them."
"At this point, I would believe anything is possible with magical creatures. They can drink, I don't know, blood, for all I know."
"Now you are being very silly. It's not just blood. Butterflies, magical or not, are also attracted to sweat and tears from living things, while they also get their nutrition from mud – "
" – I beg your pardon me? – "
" – and from rotting plants and carcasses. It is common behavior. An act of survival while they live for a limited time."
"…"
"They can live up to a year. Or one species of them I think. I forgot the name."
"…"
"Coucou? 'Ermione? Are you listening?"
"…I don't think I can see butterflies the same way again," Hermione said faintly, eyeing the small flutter on her right arm, trying to scrub the sudden image of bloodstains on delicate wings.
"What did you say? You are being very rude. You know I do not understand English yet."
"I am sorry for disturbing, ladies. Voda…water…do you have?" a slight cough followed.
The girls started and looked up, into the eyes of a very bedraggled yet smiling teenager. They moved back quickly, the rustling of leaves their only warning before he, rather ungracefully, landed in front of them, using the trunk of the tree to help steady himself before he offered them a low bow. With his…interesting…appearance, he could only offer this much courtesy to them, which is a thoughtful enough gesture on his part.
"Viktor?"
"Good afternoon, Hermione. You are looking better now. Much healed, yes? And, may I be introduced to friend?"
"Oh this is – "
"Gabrielle. Gabriel Delacour. I am youngest," the little witch interjected, rightfully assuming that she's being presented and made a small curtsy, eyeing his opened waistcoat, and hastily rolled up sleeves.
"A. Sister of Mademoiselle Delacour, yes? You look same. No doubt you pretty as her when you grow." He said in heavily accented French, but the confidence in his voice, and the compliment to her and her beloved sister made Gabrielle warm up to him instantly.
"You don't look so good. Here, sit down now. We're safe here. We're still on Delacour grounds," Hermione said absently as she concentrated on slowly enlarging her tumbler of water while walking up to the athlete. "Have you eaten yet before you went gallivanting in the woods? Where are your friends?"
"There is…funny story – "
" – mhm. Of course there is," This sounds familiar. Are all boys alike? "Gabrielle? Can I ask for a favor? Can you – "
" – say no more! I understand perfectly. But we believe you have to put much work on this yourselves, no? I can only guide you. So I shall give you, say, one hour. It is appropriate. Perhaps I will be more successful than big sister to – "
"Wait. No. No no no," Hermione quickly negated as she spun around, wagging her finger at the mischievous smile on an otherwise innocent façade, knowing what the little witch is implying. She knitted her brows though when she noticed Viktor's shoulders shaking at the corner of her eye.
Is he…laughing? Oh no. He can still understand…! Oh this is so embarrassing…
…or, maybe he's that famished? Hermione knows she read somewhere about the effects of starvation.
She'll hope for the latter then. It's easier to resolve.
"I was going to say you stay here while I go get some… sand…wiches…" Hermione trailed off, staring blankly at the space where the little silvery-blonde was supposed to be. The synchronized movement of the delicate insects around them went towards the general direction of the cabin, the only sign of their little miss's current whereabouts.
Viktor let out a deep chuckle at her baffled expression, trying to tame his dark locks flat against his skull in the process. He's...not bad looking with slicked-back hair. "She is surely…what is word…ah…she has more…energy?"
Hermione just let out a quick puff of exasperated air. "'Energetic' is the word you're looking for. And quite. Now," she said, straightening her back. She offered him a handkerchief as she plopped down near him, legs crossed in front of her and back to the tree, much like what he's doing except he bent one leg up and rested an arm on the knee, her tumbler on one hand, still untouched, "Ready to tell me what happened?" she said with raised brows.
"Well, today many trouble. Stadium is being used by other team. This, not problem. But what should be relaxing day is not relaxing. You are here now so all is well. I am available. I am at your disposal," he said as he minutely caressed the cloth in his other hand before gingerly patting it on his forehead.
Hermione tilted her head and raised a brow, confused for a moment at the expectant light in his eyes. Shrugging off the confusing disconnection in his words, she thought over instead her usual set of questions whenever her best friends are deflecting, trying to avoid a telling-off from her. "Want me to guess then? Where is your wand?"
He paused before clearing his throat, suddenly interested in straightening out his sleeves.
"Thought so. And going out and about with more people nowadays without that spell you use was a good idea?"
"'Good idea'…is very strong description."
Hermione sighed, reaching over to bat his hands away from his left sleeve, rolling it up neatly herself, all while pointedly eyeing her tumbler for him to drink. Boys. So pigheaded. The lot of them. Is common sense that uncommon? Can never get a straight answer.
Hermione continued muttering under her breath, gesturing he turn to face her more, making it easier to fix his other sleeve. He complied silently, although she narrowed her gaze at him when she noticed his still smiling eyes over the rim of stainless steel as he took a slow drink.
"And is that leather? No wonder you look overheated. Just take it off and you'll feel better."
He opened his mouth with a teasing glint in his eye before shaking his head. He smiled again and did as he was told.
Well. At least he actually listens. Maybe he could give the boys a run for their galleons when it comes to discipline. Then again, that's needed for his career. Speaking of…
"As an athlete, you shouldn't neglect your health. I recognize the concept of cheat days where you can eat whatever but you shouldn't skip any meals."
"I am lucky then that I not have 'cheating days' yet. Trainer Valkov let me eat until I am satisfied, knowing my body needs more from many types of food; we have many vegetable dishes, not just meat. I have healthy meals. You should try; might like. I can still grow bigger with my current intake."
"Aren't you already tall for your age?"
"Ne. Can still grow much tall."
"'Taller'."
"Da!"
As the two went on to discuss the finer points of home meals, proper nutrition, and family genes – with Hermione relaxing her bearing when Viktor didn't bat an eye at her reluctantly admitted blood status as she mentioned muggle jobs like Dietitians and Nutritionists – a soft coo went unnoticed from another tree.
-{-}-
Yuuya kept an interested watch over the curious sight, puffing up his collar as he patiently waited for Hermione to give him an opening to deliver the letter he brought from his wise mistress.
He's also deciding whether to at least pull on the little apprentice's dress to make them eat the still overlooked basket full of food that appeared in a whirl of butterflies right at their feet.
Author's Note: Flirty Viktor is a win, yey?
Finally got this out! I only found out about the annual 'Back to Hogwarts' event. (I...didn't know that was a thing?) The new merchandise got me 'window shopping' longer than expected. (edited to correct some sentences)
EDITED 11/28/2020 with Translations and Explanations:
free men-at-arms - Viktor is referring to the Gladiators. They're not always Prisoner of Wars, like some movies depict. There are those that actually trained to do battle at the Coliseum. Some, for the sake of fame and glory. Some, for the money and prestige. And some, to fight for their lives.
nosebleed section - North American term pertaining to seats of a public area, usually an athletic stadium or gymnasium, that are highest and, usually, farthest from the desired activity. And usually, the cheapest.
In smoke, smoke is rising (ta pushek se vdiga, та пушек се вдига) - Bulgarian saying which means when you do something in smoke, it means you are doing it really intensely, as if you were one of those cartoon characters who run so fast that you can see smoke under their feet.
pressed thumbs - for some countries, like Bulgaria, this is a gesture meaning 'good luck!' or 'wishing you luck!'. The equivalent of this would be crossed fingers.
wand light - eehh, trying to be witty again. Equivalent of Spot light. Its either this or 'Lantern light', which doesn't really flow well.
cuppa - British slang for 'cup of (coffee)'
doddle - British slang for 'a very easy task'
to go pear-shaped - British idiom meaning 'to go wrong', or 'to fail miserably'.
Какво е това (kakvo e tova) - Bulgarian for 'What is that?'
Youpi! - French interjection that's the equivalent of 'Yehey!'.
Swallows - Gabrielle meant their Swallowtail butterflies. Also her facts about their...dietary requirements are real.
coucou - French interjection that's the equivalent of 'yoohoo?'
Flutter - a group of butterflies
voda (вода) - 'water' in Bulgarian
Onwards!
- Reine