A/N: Somehow this story already has over 100 reviews, my mind is totally boggled. I love, love, love your feedback so please keep it coming :)
Viktor walked briskly through the unusually quiet Hogwarts grounds, revelling in some unexpected peace as he headed back to the Durmstrang ship. It was pleasant being left with just his thoughts, and of late he found he had a lot to think about it, his new relationship with Hermione included.
After that first day of studying together in the library, a routine of sorts had been established. Whenever possible Viktor would excuse himself after classes, and spend the hour before dinner working side by side with Hermione. It wasn't much but sadly time was a commodity he had little control over. He couldn't offer more. Viktor told himself that he was lucky to see her a couple of times a week and some days he could trick himself into believing it.
Despite Hermione's reaction to his full planner, Viktor could tell that Hermione had just as much on her plate. When he arrived at the table - almost at the back of the large space - hidden behind a bookshelf, the one he had come to think of as theirs, she would frequently be working on more than one project, though she never failed to tear her eyes away from her parchments to great him.
Hermione took a genuine interest in his studies and asked him all kinds of questions about his home and interests outside of school. She never pried, in fact, all of the personal information she was now in possession of was information Viktor had freely given her. Their continued meetings eased his fear of speaking at length around her, though Viktor was under no illusions that he had suddenly become eloquent - even in his native tongue he wasn't one for elaborate words - simply he was no longer concerned about making a mistake. He knew Hermione well enough to know she wouldn't judge him for it.
Their easy camaraderie and comfortable silences were so different from anything he had experienced before. Viktor's inner circle was small, deliberately so, and he did not trust easily. His fame, thrust upon him at a young age, had made him somewhat jaded in the face of attention from people he didn't know, but not with Hermione.
Viktor smiled at his reflections as he walked deeper into the bowels of the ship. Their stolen conversations were becoming increasingly precious to him.
Being around Hermione was peaceful. Viktor found that with further interaction every indicative feeling he'd had about her at the World Cup had been correct. She was something. Something worth time and attention, and like anything that was worth having Viktor had foreseen there would be obstacles, but he hadn't imagined they would emerge so soon.
Karkaroff had collared him before classes began that morning and asked to meet before dinner. Though polite words were used, they were both fully aware he wasn't asking at all. Viktor remembered the Headmaster's face when he had put his name into the Goblet of Fire. They hadn't had an entirely private session since then. He was sure Karkaroff would want to discuss the first task, but he knew he wouldn't miss the opportunity to bring up Hermione while he had his 'star pupil' alone.
Viktor's relationship with Karkaroff was relatively good. There wasn't another kind of relationship to be had with the man, you found a way to get on with him, or you left the school, it was as simple as that. The Headmaster could be cruel, never one to believe there were boundaries to the criticism he could hurl at his students. He schooled them in every aspect of their lives both educational and personal nothing was off limits from how you executed your homework to how you cut your hair. Yet, Viktor respected him, he might not have fully trusted Karkaroff, but he did respect him
With a heavy heart, Viktor stood below deck before the imposing office door and knocked, once he heard the voice from within bid him enter he promptly walked through, shutting the door behind him and placed himself in front of Karkaroff's desk, standing ramrod straight and looking directly ahead. Presentation was important to a man like the headmaster; they were trained to stand in such a way from the first year, as a mark of respect and to show they were ready to receive instruction. Though what edification he would receive on this occasion, Viktor was not yet sure.
Karkaroff was much more comfortable, leant back into his ornate office chair. Without the addition of the furs he wore everywhere you could tell that he was a naturally thin man, though no less imposing without the added bulk. He had dark hair and assessing eyes, the stuff of nightmares for the younger boys, and even some of the older never got over their fear. Viktor too had been scared, once upon a time, but not anymore. Now he was a man, looking at another man, albeit an authority figure. Viktor owed theheadmaster deference but he was willing - and he believed able - to stand his ground should he need to.
Karkaroff placed his elbows on the arms of his chair, linking his hands together in front of himself as he allowed the room to fall silent for several moments. "Dragons," he said eventually, calmly, and Viktor's eyes snapped to his.
"You are certain?" he asked urgently. Typically he would never have dared question the headmaster, but it wasn't every day you were informed you were going up against a dragon.
"Yes, I have seen them," Karkaroff answered dispassionately.
Viktor blinked as he tried to gather his thoughts. Once the initial panic subsided, he began thinking about the implications of him knowing ahead of time. Would it lead to an unfair advantage? He had no desire to win because the others had been hobbled before they even began competing. He wanted an even playing field; he wanted to beat the best.
"Do others..."
"All of the others know," the headmaster said curtly, cutting Viktor off. He wouldn't have put it passed Karkaroff to lie, hoping to give Durmstrang the advantage, but he had no real way of testing the truth. Viktor nodded. "I expect you to work on options for getting past the creature," Karkaroff commanded firmly.
"Yes, Sir," Viktor responded automatically. He was already mentally compiling a list of books he would need to read through. The longer the idea settled, the more he comprehended that there was still a lot he didn't know about the task. Why dragons? It couldn't be as simple as just being pitted against one of them; there would need to be a point. He had to start working on possible ideas.
"While you are here," the headmaster continued, and Viktor suppressed a wince. He squared his shoulders and regarded Karkaroff with as neutral an expression as he was capable of. "I have noticed your very marked attention to a girl from Hogwarts school," Karkaroff stated smoothly.
"Yes, Sir," Viktor confirmed. The headmaster had noticed, there would be nothing gained from denying it.
"She is Muggle-born," Karkaroff said, dropping the word carefully as if he was testing for a reaction.
"I am aware," Viktor returned decidedly, almost baring his teeth, daring the man to say anything more. As far as he knew it was the first time he had overtly lied to Karkaroff. He hadn't known, though he had suspected. Certain phrases Hermione used that were incomprehensible in a way that went beyond the language barrier or cultural differences. It was probably one of the reasons she was so unique. Even if he had cared about something so ridiculous as blood, he was sure meeting her would have changed those beliefs. How could they possibly hold up when faced with someone as brilliant as she was?
Karkaroff regarded Viktor's surface level composure through narrowed eyes. "I would remind you Viktor of the paramount importance we place on the secrets of our esteemed school," as he spoke his tone shifted from flowing silk to satin over jagged rocks.
"We do not talk of Durmstrang," Viktor asserted, lying again, only this time it was a slighter untruth, more of a fib. They spoke of Durmstrang often, but never in the way the headmaster was suggesting. Hermione asked about the school inasmuch as it related to Viktor's life, not its supposed secrets. Viktor was sure he would be able to tell the difference; he had endured enough conversations with people trying to subtly ascertain his financial worth after all.
He turned to face Karkaroff, ready to face the next charge. There was no way the headmaster would have summoned him with only one objection, there would be more, arranged in increasing severity as his argument continued.
The headmaster sat forward, seemingly unconcerned by his student's lack of reaction. "Viktor, this is a competition, an important one, the girl you have chosen is close friends with Harry Potter."
"She can be friends with both," Viktor offered quickly. He had satisfied himself of the same; he wasn't an idiot, what was he going to do if he won the girl? Lock her in a tower where she would have no access to friends of any kind? Hermione had already promised she would be cheering for both of them, what difference did it make?
Viktor was surprised that he didn't have any reaction to Karkaroff's assertion that he had chosen Hermione. The headmaster's word choice had been deliberate, such connotations had a broader meaning in pureblood society, but Viktor had not so much as flinched. Karkaroff turned his head to the side, and there was a gleam in his eyes that warned Viktor that whatever card he was still holding he considered he had the winning hand.
"She knows about the dragons for the first task. Did she tell you?" he asked softly, not that Viktor was fooled by the hint of concern he had injected into his voice.
Viktor worked hard to school his features to hide his surprise. Meetings with Karkaroff were like playing chess and poker all at once, you had to think three steps ahead and push down any emotional response lest you exposed a weakness that he wouldn't hesitate in pouncing on.
"She did not," he answered finally, struggling for impassivity as his mind whirred. Why hadn't she told him about them? Did she want him to lose against Potter? She had said his friendship was a very important one…
Karkaroff smiled. "This is a competition Viktor, associating with this girl could ruin your chances, especially if she already has a vested interest in someone else." The headmaster sat back in his chair with an air of triumph, unable to hold back his malicious glee as he had successfully rammed his point home.
"I understand concerns," Viktor stated firmly, hoping to get of the office so he could deal with his emotions in private.
Karkaroff's eyebrows quirked as he fiddled with a quill on his desk. "You understand?" he repeated with a sigh. "Am I to understand that it will not affect your actions?"
"It will not," Viktor stated determinedly. Whatever the headmaster thought, he would speak to Hermione before he questioned her motives, he didn't have the full picture yet.
Karkaroff suddenly looked much graver. His eyes darkened as his colour seemed to change. He eyed the door for a moment - as if checking it was still closed - before he regarded Viktor with a steely glare. "There are dark times ahead Viktor, times when it would be difficult for a pureblood family, an old pureblood family, such as yours, to be associated with a person of... questionable birth."
Viktor bit down the retort that burned in his throat, the response he would have been able to give if he had an understanding with Hermione, even if the man was his professor. He might have said something anyway had he not belatedly picked up on the change in the headmaster's address. The first part of the meeting had been about show and point scoring, getting Viktor to accede to his wishes and move away from a situation that Karkaroff found undesirable. But this was different. There was a genuine warning in his message, whatever it was, from the visible tension in Karkaroff's shoulders, the headmaster was undoubtedly concerned about it.
"Thank you for worry," Viktor attempted, pushing past the rawness in his throat, sticking to as few words as possible so as not to be engaged further.
Karkaroff eyed him for a long time as he pressed a hand absentmindedly against his forearm before he stood, walking over to the door and wrenching it open. "I will say nothing further about this… situation. Though, I will remind you, as I would tell any boy in front of me that you have a responsibility to act like a gentleman and remember she is young."
Viktor nodded and with a slight bow was dismissed.
As soon as he left the headmaster's quarters Viktor raced to his own; he needed to get a letter to his parents as soon as possible, he wouldn't put it past Karkaroff to contact them to outline his concerns. His parents would probably have even less reaction to Hermione's status than he did, but if his mother found out he had designs on a witch from someone other than himself, Viktor would likely be buried under the sea of howlers she would send.
Viktor stood in the champions tent restlessly considering whether such a grandiose epithet could be applied to four, jittery teenagers. He had attempted sitting down several times but had jumped up shortly after, feeling the need to pace off some of his excess energy. This was the part he hated most, the waiting. It always felt the same, the calm before the storm. He could feel the need to move itch across his skin, his legs twitched, his blood pumped, he just wanted things to get going.
Every time the tent door fluttered Viktor could hear the noise of the growing crowd outside, the sound boomed in the silent space. In the quiet he could hear the November chill battling against the fabric of the roof, the cold biting into his limbs was almost entirely ignored as his heart began to race.
Adding to the ratcheting tension was the vile reporter from the Daily Prophet, circling them all like a shark attempting to pass itself off as a harmless guppy. Her lurid green robes whipped back and forth between the champions making Viktor feel like he might be sick.
The four of them kept themselves to themselves; they hadn't been thrown together much, and this was hardly the time to strengthen an acquaintance. Those first warm smiles they had exchanged after being selected had faded as soon as Potter had hesitantly made his way into the designated room and announced he would be the fourth champion. So far they had not returned.
The door flapped open again, and four heads snapped in that direction, only to find it wasn't the TriWizard Committee they were all waiting on and dreading in equal measure, but Hermione. She was bundled up against the cold in a large woolly hat and chunky red scarf; her cheeks pink from the bracing wind.
She wasn't supposed to be there, but Viktor wasn't going to complain. He hadn't seen her since he had spoken to Karkaroff. Preparations had taken over every waking moment, and he had barely been inside the castle walls, let alone it's tempting library. He needed to talk to her, to get some inclining of what she might feel, if anything, for him. The sight of her soothed his nerves in a way he didn't understand. He was beginning to feel attached.
Viktor's eyes followed Hermione as she made a beeline for Potter and he felt a twinge of jealousy at the direction of her attention until he saw the green shade of the boy's face. How Karkaroff could think that Potter was a genius who had tricked the cup to take part Viktor would never know.
Hermione pulled the younger boy into a fierce hug and Potter made no attempt to push her off, they remained motionless for a few seconds before she let him go and began fussing over him; straightening out his robes and ruffling his hair. As she fiddled, she spoke in an almost constant stream that made Viktor take a step or two closer, so that he might be able to hear.
"Good luck Harry, you are going to be brilliant," she said determinedly with a bright smile. Viktor could hear the warm affection in her tone, but unless he was very much mistaken their relationship seemed familial. There was no averting of eyes or secret smiles like she had when they spoke.
"Sure, Hermione," Potter bit back with a sarcastic edge to his voice that was no doubt brought on by fear. "I'll be lucky to make it out alive."
"Well, that would be a start," Hermione replied, ignoring her friend's harshness. "If you do nothing else I would be pleased with that."
Her joking raised a slight smile to Potter's face Viktor edged a little closer. Hermione looked like she was ready to leave and, as ever, he was reluctant for that to happen. Catching sight of him she finally turned her reassuring gaze in his direction. "Good luck," she said in a quieter voice, one meant only for him, and Viktor wished, not for the first time, that it was just the two of them, it was strange talking to her in front of all these people. Their relationship existed like a secret, and he suspected they both had their reasons for not wanting to share their familiarity.
"You not going to straighten my robes too?" He murmured his words only for her ears.
Hermione flushed, but her full mouth pulled into a shy smile. "I'm sure you'll manage, I better be going."
The little bubble around them was broken by Cedric Diggory, who wanted to utilise the distraction for his own anxiety. "Leaving already Granger? I was expecting we would all get a tearful send-off," he called across the tent.
Viktor didn't like Hermione being called by her surname, but he already knew enough about her to let her fight her own battles, at least while he was within her line of sight. Under Viktor's curious gaze she pivoted to face the tall boy clad in yellow.
"You're right Cedric," she cooed, before she turned again, "Fleur," she called out lightly, "very best of luck."
The beautiful blonde laughed at Hermione before giving her an elegant wave and Cedric mock pouted. Viktor marvelled. Hermione had come in and somehow, without even trying, had broken all of the tension. Was this what it would be like if she visited before his Quidditch games? Would she carry away all of the strain with a soft look and a few words?
While he was lost in thoughts of a possible future, Hermione tried to make a quick exit only to be blocked by Dumbledore and the rest of the Triwizard Contingent entering. Much as she sought to make herself invisible, she was spotted quickly and sent on her way. Viktor's eyes tracked her to the door where she paused for a second, turning to make eye contact with him. 'Stay safe', she mouthed before disappearing.
I will try, he thought in reply.
Before long it was just Viktor and Harry left in the tent, both the other champions having already left to tackle their obstacle in the first task. He had debated starting a conversation with Potter several times but had not pursued it, the boy looked past speech.
When Barty Crouch Sr had arrived none of the champions had looked surprised at the mention of dragons, and Viktor was comforted that Karkaroff had not been lying about that at least. He didn't need to feel guilt over an unfair advantage on top of everything else. Viktor was third to pick from the proffered bag and the tiny dragon representing the Chinese Fireball climbed onto his hand, the miniature scaled beast picking him more than the other way around. Viktor had regarded the intricate charm and transfiguration work with some amusement, but no increased trepidation, the dragon he picked wasn't going to make a difference to the plan he had prepared.
When the gun signalling his turn finally sounded, Viktor stopped to lay a firm hand on Potter's shoulder before stepping from the tent and into the newly erected arena. The floor was made of a rocky terrain lined with deep stone walls, the cheering of the crowd seemed far away and he could just make out students perched on terraces way above where he was standing.
A flash of red crossed his eye line, and Viktor came face to face, or rather, face to snout, with the life-size Chinese Fireball for the first time. Viktor had imagined the dragon would be big, but nothing had prepared him for just how large the creature was. It opened its massive wings, flapping as it reared back onto its hind legs, blocking out the whole of the sky.
Running at full tilt, Viktor made it behind a high rock formation that afforded him a vantage point over the rest of the arena; he observed the dragon twist low in the sky for several seconds before it retreated to a stack of boulders on the other side. Deciding that was a likely guess for the nest Viktor waited until the Fireball retook flight before storming in that direction.
Viktor had just made it to his target when suddenly the Fireball swooped back down, light glimmering over its red and gold scales. He aimed the Conjunctivitis Curse into its protruding eyes the first clean shot he got; this was no time for showboating, he wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. He might have had a plan but it was far from elaborate, and wholly without backups. The creature's momentary blindness gave him enough time to snatch up the golden egg, but he had not factored in the dragon's rage and stepped back quickly as the Fireball smashed the remaining eggs in a fit of temper.
As Viktor secured the egg in his grasp, a claxon rang out and suddenly fifteen or so wizards appeared from all directions, coming forward to subdue the dragon. Viktor was hurried off to the side, taken into a corridor that emerged into another tent. He took in the sight of a slightly charred Fleur and Cedric and the three exchanged quick congratulations and shared stories over what approaches they had used.
"I took on a dragon," Cedric said a few moments later, sounding completely awestruck, "and I'm not dead."
The tension felt somewhat lifted now, it might have been a competition, as Karkaroff saw fit to remind Viktor almost daily, but it didn't stop him from respecting his fellow competitors.
As a nurse began to check Viktor over, Diggory passed him a glass of water, Viktor nodded in return of the gesture before the crowd roared again and the other champions fell quiet waiting, hoping, that Potter would emerge unscathed.
The day after the first task, Viktor was keen to get out from the confines of the wooden boat. He loved the old ship but at times it could feel as if the panels themselves were closing in on you. Filip and Mikhail had been ecstatic over his performance, though Filip's jubilant calls that he had won were called short by both himself and the headmaster, correcting him that Viktor had in fact tied. Karkaroff had not been the biggest fan of Hogwarts, or Harry Potter's involvement in the tournament in the first instance, now that he had tied with Viktor in first place he was nearly incandescent with rage.
Viktor felt the wind had been knocked out of his sails after Karkaroff had voiced his disapproval, and seeing his slump his friends had attempted to coax him out of his bad mood. Filip had decided the best way to achieve it was to re-enact the entire event vividly, even playing the parts of the respective dragons. Mikhail, more helpfully, had notes on the strengths and weaknesses of all of the other entrants. After Filip's tenth round of mimicking the Hungarian Horntail over breakfast, Viktor announced his intention to head for the Hogwarts grounds and purposefully did not wait to see if anyone wanted to accompany him. He had never been gladder that it was Sunday.
As he landed on the bank of the lake, he was thankful for the unexpected peace he found. There were few people to take in his tired face; he had no time for girls chasing him around today. Cupping his hands over his eyes to shield them from the early morning sun Viktor spotted who he was looking for, perched under a tree not far from where he was standing. Hermione was leafing through a book balanced on her crossed legs as she bit her lip.
As he walked towards her, Viktor looked back in the direction he had come from, realisation dawning that she was sat in full view of the ship. Had that been on purpose? She looked up as he got close, his shadow having blocked the sun from her spot.
"I was coming to find you," he started, though he hadn't fully realised that was what he was doing until he saw her. "I thought you would be in the library," he finished before dropping down to sit next to her.
"I'm not always there," she replied, a little defensively.
"Hermio-nee, I was not criticising," he clarified. He didn't want to argue with her.
Viktor watched as she nodded, closing her book and turning to face him. "I'm glad," she said quickly, "I wanted to see how you were after yesterday."
"Tired," he replied as he pressed his shoulders against the tree behind them, "sore, but fine."
"Good… that's, good," she responded awkwardly. Silence fell around them, and Viktor leant his head back against the scratchy bark, letting his eyes fall closed. "You were amazing," Hermione's voice floated over to him, "using the hex on the Fireball was a brilliant idea."
Viktor felt pride in her praise but also some of the residual discomfort from Karkaroff's comments came to the front of his mind as she brought up the dragons. He opened his eyes again, rolling his head to face her. She too was braced against the tree, wearing the same scarf from the day before. Now that his mind was no longer so scrambled he could make out the word 'Potter' knitted up the length.
"New scarf?" he said, more bitterly than he had intended.
"Yes," Hermione replied, either not picking up on his tone or choosing to ignore it. "I made it. I've been doing a lot of knitting for reasons…. I probably don't need to go in to. Anyway, I made this to wear for Harry as a show of support," she explained as she held the ends of the scarf out making its wonky pattern clearer.
Viktor nodded, he wasn't annoyed, a little jealous maybe, though he was cross with himself for being short with her.
Hermione pushed herself away from the tree and turned to face him."You promise not to laugh at me?" she asked shyly.
"Da?" he confirmed, bemused by her expression.
Hermione pulled at the scarf again, taking it off her neck and turning it over before laying it on her lap. At first glance, Viktor didn't see what she was trying to show him, but then he noticed, the colour on the reverse side was deeper. It was not a jewel-like ruby tone but the earthy crimson red of his tunic, in the corner was a tiny Durmstrang Badge and the initials V.K. in somewhat wonky gold stitching.
"You were supporting me?" he asked when he could find his voice.
"Of course, I was," she replied earnestly, "not that you need it" she continued primly. "I'm sure your fan club we're all encouraging you."
Hermione's gaze dropped to her lap as she fiddled with one of the many loose stitches, and remembering he was a man that followed his instincts, Viktor reached forward to place his large hand over one of her small ones where it rested on her knee. Hermione gasped slightly at the contact but didn't move. Feeling emboldened, Viktor slipped his thumb under her fingers till he was massaging her soft palm in wide, slow circles.
"They do not know me Hermio-nee… not like… not like you."
A silence returned for a while, though this one felt tenser. Hermione hadn't looked back up but neither had she moved hand so he decided to call it a victory.
"What did you want to see me about?" Hermione asked finally; she was a little breathless, but Viktor did not mention it.
Reluctantly removing his hand, Viktor reached into the small bag he had brought along with him, smiling when he felt the now familiar prickles against his skin. Reaching back over to Hermione's lap he pulled her two hands together and deposited the small, animated Fireball into her grasp. The little dragon paced in a circle before rubbing the gold scales that lined its snout against Hermione's thumb, as if it was nuzzling in before promptly curling up in the centre of her open palms and falling asleep, its tail wagging gently as soft grey clouds puffed from its tiny nose.
"For me?" she asked brightly.
Viktor nodded. "Magic will last for a couple more days, is already wearing off. A lot better temper than when we first met," he said though he narrowed his eyes at the sleeping dragon. The Fireball had bitten him no less than ten times, and it had become as peaceful as a rabbit under Hermione's care.
Hermione smiled at him, her eyes looking glassy and wide, radiating pure joy and Viktor felt his chest constrict. His mind whispered that the look she gave him made him feel more like a champion than getting the egg, he didn't want to break the moment, but he had to ask.
"Hermio-nee, did you know about dragons?"
She stilled slightly before dropping the tiny Fireball onto her skirt and reaching forward herself. Her move was more faltering than his, but she took Viktor's hand in her own, moving it towards her and running a finger gently over the lines of his palm.
"I would have told you," she asserted firmly. "I only found out a few days before, and Harry insisted he had seen Karkaroff there and that you would know, you did know didn't you?"
"Da," he confirmed, and Viktor let the concern in her tone wash away the last of his worries. She had cared after all, he had thought as much from her actions but it was always nice to hear the words to confirm it.
"Also, I didn't want to interfere" she continued. "Clearly you can handle these things on your own."
Viktor sensed there was more to what Hermione was saying, but he didn't want to push it, she would tell him if she wanted to. With her small hand still gliding over his, he leant forward to tuck an escaped curl behind her ear. "So you know, if there is other time when I meet dragon you can interfere," Viktor said raising his eyebrows and Hermione giggled at him.
The melodic sound woke the slumbering Fireball whose only response was to shuffle from its position on the edge of Hermione's skirt till he had pushed himself under the bottom of her jumper.
Bloody dragons.