Hermione woke up reluctantly on Monday following the first task. Her eyes blinked slowly as she pushed up onto her arms, forcing herself from the comfort of her mattress. She wasn't used to such procrastination, but she had been having such a lovely dream, replaying her morning by the lake with Viktor. In her dream, unlike in reality, she remained perfectly articulate, she didn't stutter or hesitate, and her cheeks remained resolutely blush-free.
As she rolled herself up and put her feet down on the chilly stone floor, Hermione heard a soft snort indicating that the tiny Fireball was awake and already up and prowling around. After he (she had no idea how to sex a dragon, if of course this one was even that exact, but had arbitrarily decided it was a he) had spent most of yesterday asleep, Hermione had brought him back to the dorm with no idea what to do next. She had fruitlessly searched until inspiration struck and she emptied a draw from her nightstand to turn into a makeshift bed for the tiny creature.
Viktor had said that the dragon's magic wouldn't last much longer, and it seemed he was right, already its beautiful wings were stiffer, preventing flight, and his movements seemed more limited, more jarring. Hermione had managed to keep the dragon hidden for now, but she knew that wouldn't last long, not with Lavender and Parvati sharing her dorm. As soon as they discovered the stowaway, the questions would start, and it wasn't as if many people could have given her a small transfigured dragon.
As Hermione dressed she realised that it was time to bring in some outside help, maybe not just with the Fireball but with Viktor as well. She had conceded to herself yesterday, at the very same moment that he reached forward to place a curl behind her ear, that she was in over her head. Viktor made her feel nervous, in a good way, but in a way that didn't make much sense to her. Hermione spent half her time wishing to speak to him again, and the other half hoping he would stay away because of how unsettled she felt in his presence.
Hermione pulled her jumper over her head and began stuffing the necessary books in her worn satchel. For the relocation of the winged beast she needed cunning, and for help with boys, or rather just one specific almost man, she needed bravado. In short, all roads led to Ginny Weasley.
Despite her hesitancy to relinquishing the covers that morning, Hermione still found herself at breakfast long before most of her fellow students had even begun to open their eyes. That was nothing unusual, though it was out of the ordinary to find she had been beaten to the Gryffindor table by Harry.
Over the last few weeks, while he had been treated with either silence or scorn by most of the school, Harry had taken to coming to meals early and sitting with her. Hermione had assumed that given the events of the weekend things would have gone back to normal. It appeared that the sight of Harry battling an actual dragon was enough for most people to realise that a fourth year, even one as rash as her best friend, would never have put their name in the Goblet of Fire. That acknowledgement seemed to make all of the other arguments herself and Neville had been building for the last month sink home. After all, if the twins hadn't been able to find a way to bypass the ageline Dumbledore had constructed, how would Harry have been able to?
The smile that lit up Hermione's face at the unexpected continuation of their new routine fell when she took in Harry's countenance; he looked grave, and when their eyes met he became distinctly twitchy.
"What's wrong?" she asked, joining him on the bench. She noticed he hadn't yet put any food on his plate, which caused her concern to deepen. Harry was no Ron when it came to food consumption, but he didn't hold back in the face of a freshly cooked breakfast on a cold morning.
Harry sighed, a sound that Hermione was unfortunately very familiar with. "This," he answered resigned and pushed a folded up copy of the Daily Prophet over to her.
Hermione unfurled the parchment in her hands, but it was a moment before she took her eyes of Harry's anxious face, when she eventually looked down it was to be greeted with another Skeeter article. Her heart sank. If the last one had painted Harry as a broken child to be pitied this one seemed more inclined to invoke the image of him as a tragic hero, fighting against the injustices of his difficult start in life. Hermione's eyes scanned the page falling on a picture of her with Harry in the centre; it would appear that this fictional Harry, was not just a tragic hero, but one with a Muggle-born girlfriend, her.
Harry Potter [13, Scion of House of Potter] fought bravely against an exceptionally ferocious Hungarian Horntail at Saturday's event, the first task of the newly re-established TriWizard Tournament. Those that know the-boy-who-lived privately indicated to me that his fight was nothing for him, used as he is to battling the emotional demons of his past.
There does seem to be one bright spot for young Harry, in the form of Hermione Granger, who this reporter has EXCLUSIVELY discovered is the girlfriend of the chosen one. Hermione, a plain Muggle-born witch who favours conservative and uninspiring dress, is in his year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. [As can be seen from the main photo] The young witch was there to wish her champion good luck before this most prestigious of events. Whether she is worthy of such a high profile role within his life remains to be seen, though we will be contacting Miss Granger for further comment.
Oh, crap.
"Well," Hermione said, trying for a bright tone as she resisted the urge to rip the parchment into confetti, "What would a week at Hogwarts be without ritual humiliation?" Harry tried to smile at her in response but it was as wan as her tone was brittle.
They were so wrapped up in their next disaster that neither noticed Ginny walking into the hall and taking the seat opposite them. "What's got you two looking so defeated?" The redhead inquired, as she poured herself a large cup of coffee. Ginny like the many Weasley siblings that had preceded her was not a morning person.
Hermione, replicating Harry's move from earlier, wordlessly pushed the - sadly still intact - Prophet in front of her friend. She couldn't help but swallow hard at the thought of Ginny's reaction, though she did manage to stop herself from biting her lip to not look overly perturbed. Ginny's affection for Harry was far from a secret, she had been too young when it had begun to mask it well, yet in recent years Ginny's feelings had become unspoken, even between her and Hermione. Harry, for one, seemed happy to pretend Ginny's awkward crush phase had never happened, and Ginny too seemed keen to pretend, though Hermione believed her act less. Lost in her nervousness it took Hermione several moments to notice that Ginny's shoulders were shaking behind the article before she dropped the parchment that had been obscuring her face to look back at them.
"She is honestly reporting that you two," Ginny began, waving a hand between Hermione and Harry needlessly, "are a couple?"
Hermione winced. "It would appear so," she confirmed.
"Oh, no need to look like someone's stolen your favourite quill, Hermione, no one is going to believe this," Ginny said firmly.
"Really?" Hermione asked. Honestly, she hadn't thought people would believe it, though she could hardly admit that she had been more nervous about Ginny's feelings than what the rest of the school had to say.
"Please," Ginny continued rolling her eyes, "there's more sexual tension between Snape and Dumbledore then there is between you two."
"Urgh," Harry animatedly retched into his orange juice, and Hermione covered her smile, feeling content for once not remind her friend to use the teacher's professional monikers.
Ginny bumped shoulders with Harry before she continued reading the article, some parts out aloud in a very affected tone, as Hermione got on with her own breakfast. It was only as the allotted time began to drift away that she sought the opportunity to move on to her other issue, "Ginny, have you got time before class? I need a quick favour."
Hermione stood by her bed with her hands grasped behind her back before Ginny arrived at her heels in the otherwise empty dorm; steeling herself she leant forward to pull the disused pillowcase from the top of the draw that had become a makeshift bed the night before.
"So," she began falteringly. "As you can see, I need a bit of help, hiding this... and I thought you might be able to... well, what do you think?"
Ginny's eyes widened as she took in the tiny sleeping Fireball before a smirk so wide it looked painful crossed her face. "Oh, Hermione," she began in a smug tone, "I do believe you've been holding out on me."
Harry's mood had not improved by their second class of the morning. Whilst the Gryffindors had largely shifted back to his side, there were still an awful lot of the 'Potter Stinks' badges around, and many of the students wearing them were quoting, loudly, from that morning's article. That Hermione was getting the same treatment did not bother her too much. Almost from the day herself and Harry had become friends she had a share in the trials he had undertaken. Though, while ignoring the taunts, Hermione couldn't help but wonder what the year could have been like if Harry had not been named a champion. Thinking of champions inevitably made her think of Viktor, and she bit her lip to hold in a groan. Hermione had been lost in thought all morning, questioning if he had seen the article. She had explained her relationship with Harry before, but what if Viktor still got the wrong idea? She could explain it to him again she supposed, but that thought was chased by a worse consideration, what if Viktor didn't care either way?
Hermione had been taken aback by just how many people seemed to believe the paper, sure; she spent most of her time with either one, or both, of the boys, but they were only friends, she thought people knew that. Ron had been touchy since the feature, and as the rift in their friendship had only just healed it seemed Harry wanted to go out of his way to make sure they weren't headed for another argument, and as a consequence had been avoiding being anywhere close to her since breakfast. Hermione understood his reasoning, but it wasn't her fault Skeeter had decided to print a picture and fabricate a story around it. She wouldn't have even gone back to the champion's tent if she hadn't thought Harry was dealing with the weight of no one believing him on top of everything else.
In Transfiguration, Hermione lost herself in the lesson and tried to avoid any further dwelling on her frustrations. Though, no matter how hard she concentrated she couldn't be happy with the bowl she ended up with. Sure, it may not have looked like the crow she started with anymore, but when she turned the curved surface into the light, she noted she hadn't managed to magic away the lustre of its coal-black wings entirely. Hermione felt defeated. It was one thing for situations out of her control to plague her thoughts, but, for them to disrupt her academic performance was inexcusable.
Fifteen minutes before the end of the class Professor McGonagall called for their attention and Hermione looked up, glad of the distraction. "As many of you will already know, the privilege of hosting the TriWizard Tournament brings with it obligations to uphold many traditions that have marked the event over the years," she began crisply.
A pin drop could have been heard in the classroom, the professor addressing them would typically be enough to ensure silence, but the potential for more news on the competition had all of the students on the edges of their seats.
"All of these practices are designed to further the overall goal of the Tournament; to foster greater relations between magical schools in the hope that international wizarding communities will become better linked in successive generations. The most important of these traditions is the Yule Ball, one that I am happy to say we will be observing. This event will be held on Christmas Day, where there will be a formal dinner and of course dancing."
A groan left the boys in the room at the same time as an excited titer rose up. Hermione could hear several of the girls in the back row talking animatedly among themselves. She remained silent, though her mind involuntarily slipped to a crimson tunic worn over broad shoulders, she pushed the thought away less her face start to redden. Hermione fidgeted in her seat while her professor gave details on upcoming mandatory dance lessons before she rushed out of the door as soon she could, she wanted a chance to send a letter to her mum before lunch.
It was lunchtime that day before Viktor had seen the article dominating the chatter of most of Hogwarts. As he was not a native of the country and was still struggling somewhat with the language barrier, he hadn't taken an active interest in reading the paper, but when Mikhail sat next to him on the Slytherin benches, his friend dropped the rolled-up parchment into his lap. "Front page," was all he said. His tone was flat so as not to attract the attention of those around them and, interest peaked, Viktor took the article in hand.
His only response for several minutes was a slight tightening of his fists which rumpled the edges of the paper within his grasp audibly, but he said nothing as he scanned the page, watching the image of Hermione jump forward to wrap Harry in an embrace and then whisper in his ear before it began again. Viktor had witnessed that hug, and he remembered what he had felt at the time, jealousy, initially, of course, but Hermione had never given him any reason to suspect there was something more between her and her friend. He might not have qualified the intention he came to their conversations with, but he was sure she couldn't be wholly ignorant of his growing regard, could she? In any case, Viktor felt confident that if there had been something between her and Potter, Hermione would have mentioned it by now. His mind drifted from the sarcastic words on the page to the feeling of his hand in hers as they had sat by the side in front of the lake and Viktor decided had read enough, he fought the urge to crush the paper into a small ball as he placed it in front of him.
"Who?" he asked Mikhail who appeared not to have moved while he was locked inside his head. He didn't need to expand his question, his meaning was clear, someone had to have passed the paper to his friend.
"Karkaroff," Mikhail answered under his breath, and Viktor's head snapped up to the Professor's table to find the headmaster assessing him as he sat between the Potions Master and the Arithmancy Professor, largely ignoring them both.
Viktor felt his appetite diminish and announced his intention to leave the Great Hall, longing for a few moments where he could react in private. As he made it into the entrance, he heard swift steps behind him but didn't slow, assuming whichever of his friends had left their food in pursuit of him would catch up. That was until he was crossing the green to the ship and a hand landed on his shoulder causing Viktor to spin round.
"Diggory?" he said in query - slash greeting - as he came face to face with the smiling Hufflepuff.
"Err, hi," Cedric responded brightly before his face took on a more serious expression. "Listen… this isn't really any of my concern, in fact, it's none of my business, at all, but I saw you reading the Prophet in there," Cedric rambled as he gestured back to the Hall. "I just wanted to let you know that err… Granger and Potter… they aren't a couple."
"I…" Viktor made an attempt to interrupt, but Cedric put his hands up and carried on.
"I understand that you may doubt my point of view, I'm not especially close to either one of them, but I travelled to the World Cup with them, with my father over the summer - you were amazing by the way, simply excellent flying and - oh sorry, back to my point! So, Potter and Granger, no feelings there between them I'm sure of it… well, apart from them being good friends but I don't think-"
"I know," Viktor snapped, more forcefully than he had intended, he just wanted the boy to stop talking.
"Oh," Cedric said. "Well, that's splendid."
Viktor's eyes narrowed as he tried to keep his irritation in check. "Why tell me this?" he asked bluntly, how did Diggory know he was interested enough in Hermione to potentially be put out by the article?
Colour crept into Cedric's face, and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I may have seen you together in the Library once and… I maybe thought I had caught onto something when she was in the tent before the dragons, but if I'm barking up the wrong tree-"
"No," Viktor sighed, not enjoying having to have such a frank conversation with someone he knew so little of. "Instinct is correct."
"Great," Cedric replied looking a lot more assured though he hopped from foot to foot. "I'm glad that's all sorted out, she's a good girl, Granger, a bit of a bossy boots but some people like that kind of thing…" Cedric said until his words seemed to catch up with his brain and he flushed a dull red. "I mean," he tried before taking a hasty step back. "If you'll excuse me I've got to go and see a girl about a ball," and with that, he bounced off in the direction of the greenhouses.
After the dour headmaster had observed the boys latest track session, he had declared they were all getting soft during their stay at a 'school for pampered babies', though the words he used were slightly more forceful and not something Viktor was sure of the translation for. As such that Wednesday the Durmstrang contingent found themselves sparring within the large hall of the ship. If the headmaster had been feeling particularly put out, he would have told them to train outside, regardless of the frigid temperatures. Viktor sensed they had the added comfort of shelter only because of the attention they would have drawn rather than any feeling of charity on Karkaroff's behalf. Whatever the prompt for the uncharacteristic show of mercy he was grateful, snow had started falling the day before, and he had no desire to feel it permeating the thin fabric of his gym kit.
Since the upcoming Yule Ball had been announced, Viktor had found that the group of girls that followed him around had doubled their efforts as well as gaining in members; he rarely got a moment's peace while on the castle grounds, and the only difference was that now he wasn't the only one. It would appear that the Durmstrang boys were popular choices for dates to the event and a largish crowd of students awaited them whenever they got off the landing craft for breakfast in the morning. Hermione was never there, not that Viktor had anticipated she would be. It didn't mean he didn't look, though just in case.
The unusual level of attention had been affecting all of them in different ways. Mikhail had been irritable for the past forty-eight hours, having never much liked any disturbance to his routine, while Filip had been in seventh heaven.
They had been instructed to work as a three, two fighting while the other refereed and then change up every ten minutes. All three were evenly matched, though Mikhail, with whom Viktor was sparring with then, got the better of him more often. Filip was an excellent fighter, quick and anticipatory he just didn't have the concentration required for long bouts.
Mikhail landed a jab on Viktor's jaw as Filip began speaking. "So, when are you going to ask Hermione to the ball Viktor?" They all fell back to their native language while within the confines of the boat. Though their use of English was improving, Viktor wasn't sure he could concentrate on his footwork and foreign speech at the same time.
"Soon," he answered as he landed a blow on Mikhail's shoulder, catching the other boy's eyebrows rise.
"Why have you not done it yet, I thought you liked her?" Mikhail asked with an incredulous expression.
Viktor sighed before calling for a timeout, stretching for the water that was at the side of their area. "I can't get her alone," he began exasperatedly. "The ball was announced three days ago, and I haven't seen her for more than two minutes at a time before I get surrounded by giggling girls."
It was the reason Karkaroff's proclamation that they have this session had pleased him so much. Though he was sure the headmaster hadn't intended it to be greeted in any such way. Viktor was a walking ball of frustration and he was only too happy to have an excuse to hit something.
"Come now Viktor, faint heart never won fair maiden," Filip grinned at him, "and in any case, if you don't get a move on soon someone else will have asked her."
Viktor felt his chest constrict and he levelled a scowl at his friend, it wasn't as if he hadn't considered that as a possibility. Deflecting from his annoyance he turned back to Filip, "You can talk, I don't see you asking anyone," he snapped
Filip's beam was answer enough though he pressed on regardless, "I already have a date," he replied smugly pushing a few curls off his face.
"Really, who?" Mikhail asked, as much surprised as Viktor was, it was the first they had heard of it.
"Claudia, from Beauxbatons," Filip answered with his chest puffed up.
"Claudia?" Mikhail questioned, "Claudia, the really gorgeous one with the long dark hair?" he qualified. "Claudia the one that got early acceptance on to a Charms mastery course, a whole year ahead of time, because of her academic brilliance? That Claudia?"
"Yes," Filip replied drawing out the 's' sound, enjoying his friend's reactions.
"Impressive," Viktor laughed, punching him on the shoulder.
Mikhail seemed less inclined to let it go. "How did you pull that off?"
Filip shrugged, "She asked me, something about how our colouring would work well together in pictures." Mikhail snorted. "What? She's not wrong," Filip defended.
Mikhail rolled his eyes in a way that was very dramatic for his usually reserved nature. "Viktor, step out for a second I need to hit him."
"Sure," Viktor acquiesced. "What about you?" he asked, conscious that Mikhail might find he was the only one dragging his feet.
Mikhail shrugged, "I'm waiting for you to ask Hermione, then you can ask her to bring one of her friends for me."
"Oh, really?" Viktor replied with a shake of his head.
"Yes, really. You know I'm not likely to approach one of these girls, and as you have an opening with one you can do it for me. So you better get on with it, or we will both be dateless," Mikhail finished throwing his towel at Viktor before he shunted Filip into the centre of the circle.
By the time Viktor had an opportunity to speak to Hermione it was Friday, and as his friends had continued to chide him into hurrying up, reminding him that anyone else could ask her at any time, he was even more nervous. As he approached their table at the back of the library, Viktor was heartened to find her sitting there, though a loud giggle he heard as he made his way through the stacks indicated there would be no more time to enjoy this spot in private. As Viktor got closer Hermione heard his steps and looked up at him, she smiled, though he noted she looked tired. He wondered if things between her friends had improved but decided it was best to delay asking until he had accomplished his primary objective.
Viktor dropped into the seat next to Hermione but didn't begin unpacking his stuff; he wanted to be able to make a quick getaway in the event he was rejected.
Hermione had gone back to concentrating on her work, and Viktor whispered to get her attention. "Can I speak?"
"Yes," Hermione answered confusion pulling at her brows, "we always speak while we study."
"I know," Viktor replied, wondering if she knew just how adorable she looked with that expression on her face. Or how difficult it was for him to be articulate with her gaze on him so intently. "I want to ask, something" he finished lamely, fighting the urge to shake his head in frustration at himself.
Hermione set her quill down and turned in her chair to face him better, Viktor clenched his fists as he prepared to speak, but his train of thought was interrupted as a firm shove pushed him forward. He spun around to find one of the girls that had been behind him a couple of times when he was running smiling at him coquettishly. "I am so very sorry," she simpered, "I didn't see you there." She gave him a wave before she sashayed her way back down the aisle.
Pushing down his irritation Viktor turned back to Hermione only to find her staring off in the direction the girl had gone, if he was guessing correctly she looked a little forlorn. Taking it as a good sign, Viktor decided to just to go for it, in case they were interrupted again and he had to wait another week. "Hermione, will you come to ball with me?" he rushed out while his hand grasped around the top of his bag, just in case.
Hermione's head snapped to his, and she looked at him blankly for a second until she seemed to recover herself. "You can pronounce my name," she whispered.
Viktor pushed past the fact that she hadn't answered to realise that he had done just that. He must have been so focused on asking her to the ball that he hadn't laboured over the pronunciation like he normally did. He decided he would privately celebrate that little accomplishment later, provided it wasn't some cruel twist of fate that the day he learnt to say 'Hermione' wasn't also the day that she told him she didn't like him, in that way.
"I did, you did not answer question," Viktor pushed as his fingers tightened around the loop of his bag strap, a couple of seconds and at worst he could run out of there. He'd certainly got enough practice at running from the opposite sex since he'd got to Scotland.
"You really want to go with me?" Hermione asked in a small voice.
"Yes," Viktor answered immediately, "that is why I ask," he finished cheekily. He felt himself gain in confidence after she had so shyly sought reassurance.
Hermione smiled at him then, and Viktor released his death grip on the satchel by his feet. "I would love to," she said brightly.
Viktor mirrored her beam and needing to express how fucking relieved he was he jerked towards her, and planted a soft kiss on the apple of her cheek. The kiss was swift, but even quick as it was, it was long enough for him to feel the heat of her immediate flush warm his lips. He wanted to kiss her again, but when he saw her teeth sink in her bottom lip and her eyes fall to the table he knew not to push her.
Viktor glanced around the library giving Hermione a chance to compose herself and himself an opportunity to check on his stalkers before he continued with the second part of his plan. "Next weekend Hogsmeade, yes?" he enquired. He had heard that the students could attend the little village close to the school on set days, and as his options to speak to her on the grounds were becoming more and more limited he would just have to invent his own.
Hermione nodded and lifted her eyes to face him. Viktor was reassured that he hadn't frightened her too much, "Would you come with me?" he asked. The second invite fell out of his mouth much easier than the first. Surely if she would go with him to the ball, this shouldn't be a problem.
"I… I have plans in the morning, but I could go, I would like to go, in the afternoon, if that works for you of course."
"That would be wonderful," Viktor answered honestly, resolved to move whatever he had to. He would have agreed to whatever provision Hermione may have had. All in all, their meeting had gone much better than Viktor had allowed himself to hope. Perhaps a little stupidly he was much more excited about her agreeing to Hogsmeade than the ball. Although he had already convinced himself that there was no way he would enjoy the dance unless Hermione accompanied him, something about a date felt more special, more private.
Viktor looked over Hermione's pink cheeks and tried to stop himself grinning like a lunatic with relief. The only thing that tempered his glorious mood was the knowledge that he couldn't stay.
"I have to leave now," he said reluctantly, he had work to do if he was going to take the following Saturday afternoon off, he didn't want to give Karkaroff an excuse to keep him behind. "I will see you Saturday," he said again as he stood, feeling the need to reconfirm even though she had just said yes.
"Yes," Hermione laughed out, and he made to step away before remembering his promise. Loathe as he was to bring up something awkward Viktor knew there was no way Mikhail would act on his own, and Karkaroff had made it abundantly clear that they were all expected to escort someone to the ball.
"Hermione, do you have friend who would like to go to the ball with my friend?" he asked dutifully. Truthfully, Mikhail wasn't all that interested in such things, he took his academic career very seriously, and while he would no doubt find a wife once he had finished school, it simply wasn't in his sphere of interest now.
Viktor watched as Hermione deliberated for a moment before her face pulled into a smile. "I think I know the perfect person."
A/N: big love to all of you reading, reviewing and adding to lists. Your feedback on this story makes me so happy. For further stuff and sneak peaks you can find me on Tumblr under the same name.