The girls were a mere hour into the 'getting ready process' when Hermione started feeling embarrassed about the continued fuss she had made in the lead up. Anytime Ginny mentioned wanting to take a whole afternoon Hermione had rolled her eyes, been as obstinate as possible and endlessly complained. In her own defence, Hermione hadn't been able to work out just what they were going to do that would require over four hours of her precious study time, and it was rather humbling to realise that she hadn't even considered that a good part of it was sitting around talking, laughing and bonding. The more time Hermione spent with the girls, the more her confidence built, which she certainly needed. She had been fretting about parading herself in front of the whole school for weeks. Liking her dress helped, though now that it was the day of the event Hermione wished she had gone for something simpler, less attention-grabbing. The thought of Viktor helped, while going with him meant inevitable comments it also meant being by his side for a lot of the evening, which made her feel calm, he made her feel more hopeful.
Luna had arranged for them to make use of her dorm in Ravenclaw Tower, which had ended up being a perfect plan. It meant they could avoid the boys and, as none of the other Ravenclaw third years were going to the event, they had the run of the space. Hermione wouldn't have thought that three girls would need so much room, but by the third hour, there was so much stuff strewn about the place you would have been forgiven for thinking it was at the mercy of twenty or so witches.
When Hermione had arrived, their dresses and shoes were lined up against the wall in garment bags, and both Luna and Ginny were flicking through hair magazines, with Ginny taking the lead on what she thought would work for each of their outfits. Hermione, for once, was more than happy to be led. Two hours and a platter of sandwiches from the kitchen later, Ginny jumped up in front of them.
"There's a lot to be done," she said seriously, standing up straight, her arms on her hips making her look like a drill sergeant, a tiny drill sergeant in a lurid green face mask, but still.
"Hermione," Ginny said turning to her with a steely gaze, "I know you don't like this stuff, but you pick up charms most quickly so you can help do the magic for the hair." Hermione nodded, fearing to do anything else, and deposited the slumbering Fireball in the warm spot she had left on Luna's bed.
The dorm room became a hive of activity as all three girls rushed around each other ticking items off a list that Ginny had produced. Hermione had her eyebrows shaped and her hair conditioned, and once the red mud pack she had been sporting was removed, Luna began experimenting with her makeup while Ginny was showering. Hermione had a moment of fear when Luna approached her face, waving her wand idly in her fingers, but the blonde had a surprisingly light touch leaving Hermione's features subtly enhanced rather than completely masked.
When Ginny pulled on her startling red dress, Luna charmed her thick red hair to fall in loose waves around her face, and Hermione helped apply the minimal makeup required. She would never have admitted it out loud but Hermione was quite impressed with some of the spellwork invented for cosmetics. The charms were more complex than Hermione had ever imagined, requiring off-the-cuff adaptations for particular hair and skin types. She almost lost herself to pondering on the transference of the augmentations into other areas but was swiftly given another urgent task.
After deliberating for a time, they decided to leave Luna's hair mainly down, letting her soft, naturally pale waves fall down her back, before gathering the top section and styling it into pinned roses in keeping with the eccentric florals on her gown. Hermione smiled softly when they were done; her friends couldn't have looked more different if they'd tried but both were entirely captivating in their unique way.
It took Luna and Ginny both working in concentrated tandem to get Hermione's hair to sit right. They had initially intended to straighten it completely, but that idea was scrapped. Hermione had been hesitant, straight hair had been the one thing she had looked forward to, but Ginny was insistent. Instead, her hair was tamed a little before being gathered up towards the nape of her neck, you could still see all of her curls, they were just in a more reasonable order, she still looked like herself.
After leaving Ginny to find Neville, Luna and Hermione rushed in the other direction to meet up with the Durmstrang contingent. As their heels clacked against the castles slate floors the nerves that Hermione had been attempting to ignore for most of the day resurfaced. It helped to have Luna there, and as if sensing her growing discomfort the younger girl chatted the entire way through each long corridor without interruption, mainly total nonsense, but the topic didn't matter, the constant flow of babble soothed Hermione, though she couldn't get her brain working enough to respond.
She had arranged with Viktor to meet him near the main doors, where himself and his fellow students would all be meeting their dates after coming in from the ship. As they descended, on a thankfully non-moving staircase, Hermione spied him, stood slightly off from his peers, with another student who she assumed must have been Mikhail. She had seen him with two boys before and had heard him talk about them often but had never been sure which was which. Mikhail was tall, like Viktor, but with a leaner form, with dark hair and dark eyebrows. He looked serious, but then all of the boys from that school seemed to. Hermione had made it almost the whole way down the steps when, as if sensing her approach, Viktor looked up at her. She saw his eyes widen for a second before she averted her gaze very, very focused on descending the last few stairs without tripping on either her gown or her shoes.
As her feet touched the floor of the entrance hall, Hermione was gripped by panic over how to break the ice, she was used to spending time with Viktor on his own but never in front of this many people. Again, Luna came effortlessly to her rescue, looping her arm through Hermione's and marching them forward to where their dates were standing.
"Good evening," the blonde began brightly, and both boys bowed formally before returning her greeting. Hermione managed to mumble out a hello, but somehow more words were not forthcoming.
"What a lovely tunics," Luna said, eyeing their formal robes with a dazzling smile. "Did you know that red dye was originally produced by the crushing of thousands of tropical insects to make a paste? Muggles still use the method for artificial flowers."
There was a beat of silence and Hermione forced herself to speak. "Err," she faltered, "this is Luna," she stuttered out, her voice raspy as if she hadn't had a glass of water in days, gesturing at her friend and Mikhail stepped forward.
"Hermione, lovely to meet you," he said sincerely before turning to Luna, "I understand I have pleasure of escorting you this evening," before reaching forward his arm.
Luna smiled and slid her arm under his, allowing Mikhail to lead her away. As they moved into the distance, Hermione heard Mikhail ask, "Why to use bugs from only from tropical regions to make paste?"
Hermione felt her anxiety over Luna's enjoyment of the evening sweep away at the boy's interested tone and turned back to face Viktor. For the first time, she felt able to look at him properly. He looked taller in his formal robes, older too. His crimson tunic was fitted firmly against his broad chest, accentuated further by the fur-lined robe belted over one sleeve. Suddenly Hermione felt like her dress was just right, formal and over the top as it may have been, anything less wouldn't have matched the meticulous perfection of Viktor's outfit. She felt like something out of a fairytale. Hermione was aware that she had been silently regarding him, as she did all she could not to bite her lip or fiddle with her sleeves, but she needn't have worried, when she looked back up it was to find Viktor completing his own appraisal.
"I am," he said, with a scratchy voice before he coughed and looked heavenward for a moment. He stepped forward to take her hand, with what Hermione thought may have been a slight flush on his cheeks.
"I am glad you did not show me dress before, or tell me about it, or answer my questions."
"Oh? But you were so insistent earlier this week?" she replied confused as to his sudden turnaround. Viktor had still been teasing her that he could make her tell him only a couple of days before.
"Yes, I was fool," Viktor smiled wryly, "I would not do anything that change moment I saw you walk downstairs. Walk downstairs to me."
Hermione felt robbed of her voice but was saved from replying by a commotion starting around them, Viktor seemed to remember himself and again, he stepped closer, pulling a box out of his pocket. "Will you wear my favour?" he asked smiling, and Hermione couldn't help but return it.
"Yes, of course," she said gladly, opening the proffered box with shaking fingers.
The flowers were a simple circle of white blooms with darkish blue looking centres, arranged in a simple band. They were classic and more elegant than anything she had seen before, Hermione loved them instantly. "What are they?" she asked, gently moving her little finger over a soft petal.
"I do not know you interested in flowers," Viktor replied inquisitively.
Hermione flushed, "I'm not but, err, no one has ever given me flowers before and… well, my mum will ask what they were I tell her about tonight in my next letter."
Viktor gripped her wrist in his warm hand and pulled the floral band over the sleeve of her dress before looping it under his arm. "They are anemone, winter flowers," he explained before dropping his voice, "don't tell anyone, asked my mother what to buy," he said conspiratorially.
"Really?"
"Hermione, did you think I ask colour of gown to match flowers?" he smirked, and Hermione almost laughed at herself, of course, his mother would have been the one to instruct him to do so. He continued, "the only reason I properly attired, Durmstrang makes choices for us," he said gesturing to himself.
"So, when you aren't in uniform?" Hermione inquired, wondering what he would look like in his own clothes, and what he liked to wear. Was he casual in his own home like she was, or formal like she imagined most of the British purebloods to be?
"Are you asking about when my clothes are off Miss Granger? We are not even at Ball yet," Viktor teased his eyes flashing.
"You know what I meant," Hermione protested hotly but couldn't fight down the colour off her cheeks.
"Ah Quidditch kits, comfortable clothes," he shrugged with a glimmer in his eyes. She narrowed her gaze at his continued mirth. "What?" he questioned with mock innocence.
"That wasn't a very gentlemanly beginning," she chastised.
"That is not true," he said shaking his head, "this is not our beginning. When I met you first I was perfect gentleman you were not like lady," Hermione gasped in protest, but he continued, "is true, you in corner talking about my nose."
Hermione's eyes glanced up at his face where the painful crack there was no longer any trace of had once been. "I'm so sorry about that," she said earnestly, "I thought the crowd would have covered my words."
"Was not my ears broken Hermione," Viktor laughed out simultaneously moving away from her ineffective punch in the arm. His teasing made Hermione flush to the point she considered she might have been in danger of passing out, but it settled her nerves, yes this was different, and yes there would be a lot of people and unfamiliar clothes, but it was still the same Viktor. No, Viktor hadn't changed, but she had yet to deal with other people's reactions, and because of the nature of the evening, she would be hit with all of them, all at once.
There was still one introduction remaining before they could head off and begin their evening, and when headmaster Igor Karkaroff appeared in the hall it made Hermione unsure for a second. She had listened when Viktor had spoken about Karkaroff, but she hadn't changed her opinion. She just wasn't as forgiving as her new friend. With her place in the wizarding world constantly in question, Hermione couldn't afford to be.
When Karkaroff spotted Viktor, he moved directly towards them and Hermione felt unprepared for what she had to do, did she bow? Curtsey? The rules for everything at their school were harsher, more formal.
"Miss Granger," he said, his cool tone sucking the joy that had just been present right out of the corridor. It reminded her of Professor Snape, his tone, his entire demeanour managed to convey that he was superior to her and that he was deathly bored all without moving a facial muscle. Hermione wondered whether that mode of address was the first thing Voldemort taught his follows.
"Headmaster Karkaroff, it is a pleasure to meet you," she said, fighting the urge to curtsey to the floor as if she was meeting the Queen.
His expression appeared pained as if he was battling against a look of severe distaste, though he managed to get, "the pleasure is all mine," out of his clenched teeth before muttering something to Viktor in Bulgarian and slipping down the corridor.
Well, that could have gone worse, Hermione thought to herself. She couldn't find it in her to be offended, after all, he was a middle-aged man, she was sure he didn't want to spend the evening speaking to school children. Viktor looked bemused but suggested they make their way to the hall, after a couple of moments of silence her curiosity got the better of her. "Viktor, what did he say?"
'Ah, told me to stop looking insufferably happy," he replied self-consciously as if he was unsure of the words and sentiment, and it was Hermione's turn to be silent.
Viktor led her to a small classroom opposite the main entrance to the Great Hall where the rest of the champions were waiting. As they emerged Hermione saw a radiant Fleur Delacour standing with Roger Davies, of all people, Roger had probably been the only one with an ego big enough to assume she would say yes. The pontificating he was renowned for had already got the better of him if the way Fleur's eyes lit up at their arrival was any indication. She marched forward leaving a bemused Roger following in her wake.
"Viktor, good to see you and it's Hermione isn't it?" Fleur said, turning towards her with such unexpected enthusiasm that Hermione almost took a step back.
"Yes, nice to meet you… properly... I should say," Hermione replied. Despite her cheekily wishing the part Veela luck before the first task she had never actually spoken to the Beauxbaton champion.
Viktor was reluctantly dragged into a conversation with Roger, and Fleur turned her back on the boys. "Yes, I know your name, we sit with the girls at Ravenclaw table, they have talked about your exam results a few times," Fleur offered in explanation. Hermione felt like she should say something, anything really, but she found no topics came into her head. All she could offer the French girl was a nod of her head and a smile she feared was more of an intimated grimace.
Fleur looked down at Hermione's dress, and Hermione felt a familiar dread fall over her. A feeling that had been born in primary school when her shoes had been plain and not patent like they were supposed to be, or the following year when she had insisted she get patent only to find everyone now had a slight heel.
"Your dress," Fleur said, stepping forward and running a hand over the sleeve, "it's magnificent no, I have never seen anything like it."
"Thank you," Hermione replied, trying to tamp down her disbelief, "yours is beautiful, you look truly stunning Fleur."
Fleur waved a hand in front of herself dismissively, as if she were told that a hundred times a day, which, given her appearance, was a distinct possibility. "So, you are here with Viktor?" Fleur asked kindly.
"Err yes," Hermione confirmed, still feeling strange about people knowing about them, she didn't have very long to get over that she supposed.
Fleur looked over at the boys, and Viktor looked back at her before turning to smile at Hermione. Roger didn't appear to notice his audience's momentary lack of attention and continued droning on in a sleep-inducing monotone. "He likes you," she said with an air of confident authority that Hermione didn't know how to respond to.
"I... I…"
Fleur smiled, "It's ok I'm not, how you say? Digging for information," she clarified with an adorable burrowing mime with her hands that made both girls laugh. Viktor, despite his calm demeanour, had started to look like he was at his limit for an idle chat with Roger and Fleur sighed. "I think you will be having a better evening than me, no?"
Hermione privately hoped so, it was nothing against Fleur, she seemed lovely, but she very much hoped Viktor would be better company than Roger Davies. "Good luck," she offered and Fleur rolled her eyes dramatically.
"I begin to wish I was back with the dragon."
Viktor walked back over as Fleur exited to her fate. Hermione stifled a laugh at the face he pulled when he returned to her side. She patted his arm comfortingly, and they were about to take their place and line up when she heard her name.
"Mione?"
Hermione turned to find Harry, looking rather dashing in his formal robes, staring at her as if he had never seen her before. "Hi Harry," she responded brightly with a wave of her hand.
"What are you…" he looked from her to Viktor and then back again with an almost comedic expression on his face. This was going to take some explaining. However, for better or worse, any further conversation was halted by the arrival of Professor McGonagall signalling that it was time, and Hermione felt the by now familiar butterflies flair in her stomach. She shot Harry an apologetic look and moved to stand where her professor indicated.
The doors creaked open. Viktor protectively looped her arm back under his.
The noise from inside the Hall filtered out into the corridor. They shifted in line.
Harry, and then Cedric disappeared in front of them. Hermione felt her legs weaken; she was determined to smile as she walked in but with the churning in her stomach it was likely to be more of a contorted frown.
"Hermione," Viktor whispered at her side as they approached the door, captivating her attention. "I am very glad I have honour of being first boy to buy you flowers."
She beamed.
Viktor pulled Hermione's chair out for her, and they sat at their designated table. When the seat next to her was pulled out, she smiled, expecting to see Harry or maybe even Fleur and turned only to be met by the grinning face of Cedric Diggory. Hermione promptly leant over him to politely greet a resplendent Cho Chang and then took the opportunity to take in the decorations of the room while everyone else got settled. The Hall looked like something out of the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe; charmed icicles hung from the ceiling and a frosted punch fountains lined tables along the walls, the whole space glittered with the illusion of a winter paradise and magic. She hadn't had a chance to look around when they first entered; she had been too busy looking straight ahead, though Hermione had been sure she detected a flash of a camera from somewhere.
After he had finished talking to Fleur on his left, Viktor turned back around and placed his arm over the back of Hermione's chair, making Cedric whistle lowly, casing Cho to punch his arm and Hermione to blush. Seemingly oblivious to all of it Viktor asked her to explain the British options on the menu in front of them and then he did the same for her with the Bulgarian. Seemingly the 'bringing together' element of the TriWizard Tournament extended to gastronomy. When Hermione decided to go for Shopska Salata Cedric made a joke about her 'going full Bulgarian' and Viktor sent him a warning look that had the cheeky Hufflepuff behaving for a whole ten minutes.
As excited chatter filled the room, and the conversation on the table split off between the couples, Viktor's finger trailed Hermione's upper arms, and he dropped his voice to whisper. "Are you cold?" he asked attentively, and Hermione shook her head.
"No, thank you, I'm fine."
"You will tell me if you get cold later?" he asked - slash commanded - and Hermione leant into his side, just a little.
"Of course," she agreed and their eyes locked. Despite the whole room being full of people, it felt as if it was just them, sitting alone together bathed in the reflection of the twinkling icicles around the hall.
Soon the plates in front of them were filled with food disturbing their private conversation, and Hermione had the chance to exchange a few glances with Harry. He was sitting too far away for them to talk properly and from the look on his face, he had questions that he would want to raise in a more private setting. Hermione was vastly reassured that he did not look angry, if she had to label the emotion on his face she would have gone for impressed, or maybe shocked, probably a little of both.
"Nice dress Granger," Cedric said from beside her, once again braving some chat in her direction.
"Thanks, Cedric, you don't look half bad yourself," she countered breezily.
He huffed, no doubt affronted. "Such compliments Granger, I'll get a big head," he responded dryly.
"Bit late for that wouldn't you say," she challenged, and Cedric mock scowled at her as Cho laughed into her butterbeer.
"Don't you go agreeing with her!" Cedric protested looking down at Cho before they both smiled goofily at each other and Hermione looked back at Viktor who laughed when she rolled her eyes.
When dinner was over the tables were vanished, and Viktor pulled Hermione onto the vast dancefloor, the vast empty dance floor. She exchanged a quick panicked glance with Harry, who she absently realised had it much worse as he had to lead. Hermione felt a warm hand on the small of her back, Viktor squeezed her fingers gently as he gripped her hand, holding one slightly elevated and she looked up.
"You are nervous," he observed, looking at her with some surprise.
"A little," Hermione confessed, "there are just so many people watching," she whispered, hoping not to be overheard.
"Pretend they are not here."
"Is that what you do?" she asked, she had wondered how he dealt with the constant attention. At least when he was on his broom he could probably avoid it, but not when he was on the ground.
"Do not need to, when I am with you, Hermione, I do not even see them," Viktor replied earnestly, and his offhand honesty was so disarming Hermione could only stare back at him.
The music started and Hermione, clumsily at first, began working her way through the steps. It felt so different from her limited practice. Encased in Viktor's embrace Hermione forgot that everyone was watching, so much so that when he lifted her for the first time, she squealed and erupted into a peel of very uncharacteristic giggles that had him trying to suppress his own laughter.
"Do not make me laugh," he chastised, "if I drop you, I will be sad."
Hermione smiled at him as he gently placed her back on the floor and led her into the next movement. "I'm amazed you can lift me at all, you should have seen the amount of food we ate this afternoon before coming here."
"Hermione, you weigh same as Quaffle, a small Quaffle, few sandwiches not make difference."
As she twirled on the floor, they passed Ginny and Neville, who both gave her a very unsubtle thumbs up as they swayed passed.
The tempo of the music increased, and Hermione had to concentrate harder on not messing up. Viktor was apparently practised in the moves of the dance but didn't have any more natural grace than she did. As a result, their steps were much more clumsy than those of Cedric and Cho, who looked like figure skaters, Hermione found she didn't mind. Viktor had told her many times that he lacked coordination on the ground and while Hermione could see what he meant, she believed she would never entirely agree with him. He moved perfectly around her, he was good enough - and no doubt strong enough - to keep her upright when her steps faltered, and he was kind enough to not care what anyone else thought. Though her steps faltered, were often over thought out and plodding, he made Hermione feel almost graceful.
By the time the stressed over dance was over, and other couples joined the floor, she felt like a coat hanger had been pressed into her mouth from the strain of smiling so widely, for so long.
"Not nervous anymore?" Viktor questioned lightly as he moved her into an open patch of floor.
"No," Hermione agreed, "that was excellent advice."
Viktor raised an eyebrow at her, "You should not sound surprised Hermione, I am very wise," he said sagely before pushing her up into the air again and smiling wickedly when she couldn't control another burst of laughter.
Hermione and Viktor had fallen into their little bubble, as usual, moving slowly around the dance floor, chatting idly, when a hand on both their shoulders stopped them abruptly. Hermione spun and was faced with another Durmstrang boy, this one shorter than Viktor, with an unbelievably charismatic smile and dark blonde curly hair.
"Apologies for interruption," he said brightly before bowing to her, "but did not look like my friend would detach himself from you long enough to make introduction, so thought I should do so myself. Hermione, my name is Filip it is pleasure to meet you."
Hermione thought she could get used to used to all of this formality, it certainly beat the boys in the Tower nicking food off her plate in lieu of greetings in the morning. Hermione returned his greeting with as much apparent pleasure as he to be making it, if not the grace it had been delivered in before Filip offered his hand.
"Dance?" he asked.
"I would love to," she replied and put her hand in his proffered one, but Viktor had yet to let her go.
"Now you release her Viktor, it is really very simple," Filip teased, and Viktor groaned looking back at her.
"Do not listen to anything he says about me," he warned before flashing Filip a grumpy expression and removing his warm, possessive hand from her waist.
Filip was an excellent, if a rather energetic dancer, he didn't talk about Viktor too much, only sharing a few stories of hijinks from their younger days. All of which, Hermione had a distinct impression, had been carefully selected to show his friend in the best possible light. As the music sped up, Filip spun her again and again, unfortunately, faster than she was competent enough to complete. When the final turn ended, Hermione had to jig back quickly in an attempt to correct her momentum, so she didn't end up on the floor until she was grabbed securely and pulled into a solid chest looking up to see Mikhail staring back at Filip thoroughly exasperated.
"I take Hermione now," he said firmly before looking down at her, "with her permission?" he caveated, and Hermione agreed.
"You ruin all my fun," Filip whined.
"I am saving your life; you drop her on the floor, Viktor drop you on your head."
Hermione had a much easier time keeping up with Mikhail's steps, though his mind was a different story entirely. Apparently having heard that she was bright he brought up numerous topics that they lightly debated until he seemed to ease off, Hermione wondered if she had passed or failed the test.
"Your friend is very… interesting," he said as they twisted through a cluster of other couples. Hermione bristled, and he must have perceived her irritation as he looked back down at her brows furrowed. "It was not insult, she is different, yes, but I meant what I said, she is an interesting girl," he clarified, and Hermione's ire deflated.
"She is, I'm protective of her," she explained, "and I'm used to people not being kind, people who deal in subtext more strongly than people from your corner of the world seem to."
Mikhail smiled, and it had a transformative effect on his face. "I only ever say what I mean, and I understand protective instincts, Hermione."
Hermione wasn't sure how long she had been dancing but with the rapid change of partners - from Viktor's friends to some of her own housemates - she had started to feel a bit like a football being passed from one player to another until she stilled to see a grinning Fred in front of her. His greeting was somewhat less formal than she had so far been given that evening but no less welcome. He was a surprisingly good mover; all that confidence had to help she supposed.
"Having a good time Granger?" Fred asked, waggling his eyebrows, and Hermione fought down the blush on her cheeks, that really wouldn't help with his teasing.
"Yes, thank you, you?"
"No complaints, I have a favour to ask, though."
"Oh?"
"I would love a signature from Krum if you can get it? Preferably on the photo we have taken of Ron where it looks like a Blast-ended Skrewt has been shoved down his trousers and told to make itself comfortable," he laughed out. She knew she had seen a flash. Fred dipped her dramatically before taking off at speed in a different direction. Hermione looked around the room as best she could but couldn't spot Ron, she had yet to see even a glimpse of him that evening. Harry had come to say hello a few times, but she had not so much as bumped into her other friend.
Hermione scoffed into Fred's shoulder, "I'll ask."
Fred gave her a quick look up and down as she narrowly avoided a seventh-year couple that weren't so much dancing as rocking pressed against each other. "You should do yourself up more often," he observed and Hermione mock glared at him. "None of that face Hermione, you know we all like you as you normally are. After all, where would we all be in Gryffindor Tower if we didn't spend our days deliberating whether the moulted hair all over our clothes belonged to you or Crookshanks?"
Hermione had begun verbalising her caustic response when he suddenly twisted them the other way. "Smile for the camera, Granger" he called, and she looked up just in time to see George in front of them before the flash went off. "I would tease you more, but Krum is a pretty big bloke, and he's been watching us since I took over," Fred whispered dramatically, and a couple of seconds later Viktor reappeared asking - fairly curtly - if he could cut in. When Fred sauntered off to cause trouble in another section of the hall, Viktor pulled her close to him, and they began dancing again.
"I was wondering if I would get you back tonight," he said with a pronounced pout.
"Who have you been dancing with?" Hermione asked, smiling at his grumpy expression.
"Not many people, not as many as you, but did dance with Ginny, she is protective of you."
Hermione felt there was probably a whole world of observation behind that single sentence. "Oh?" she asked smirking, knowing her friend well enough to assume the way their conversation might have gone.
"Da, she learnt Bulgarian to make point, very particular phrase," Viktor said his eyebrows knotted.
Hermione laughed, "She means well."
Viktor nodded, he didn't look particularly convinced but neither did he appear put out by Ginny's interference. "Well, is nice to be back dancing with you," he said as he pulled her closer still.
"Yes," Hermione agreed, "it is."
They moved silently around the floor for a couple of songs before Hermione realised Viktor was frowning. "Is everything okay?" she asked, tilting her head to try and face him better.
"Da," he replied noncommittally, "only difficult."
"What is?" she pressed.
"Want to be able to speak, to tell you so much, but is hard as…. English still difficult, must sound stupid," he ground out sounding exasperated.
Hermione was surprised by his admission, Viktor seemed so unaffected generally. "You don't sound silly, and you are much more articulate than you think, you speak pretty good English now, it will get easier." He huffed a little, and she bit back a smile as she realised he was sulking.
"Teach me how to say something in Bulgarian," she said finally.
"Why?"
"Just do it," she demanded, feeling confident enough to boss him about a bit.
"Okay," Vikor conceded, thinking for a moment, "say Kade e toaletnata?"
"Kady eee tonata," Hermione garbled out and winced but not as much as Viktor did. "See, I butchered it," she laughed.
Viktor stared at her intensely for a few moments before smiling. "Thank you, Hermione, you always know what to say."
She blushed, "I can't say I agree with you. So, what was I saying anyway?"
Viktor smirked, "Believe you were trying to ask where bathrooms were," and they both laughed.
Hermione felt an uncommon sense of triumph in making Viktor laugh. She would never have dreamed the evening could go so well.
"Do you want drink? I do not want to let you go but should ask, as we talked about I am gentleman."
Hermione sighed and nodded, she wasn't sure she was all that thirsty, but her feet could definitely do with a short rest. Viktor broke their hold and draped his arm around her waist. Hermione sank into his embrace and allowed herself to be escorted from the floor.
While they were standing by the fountain, they were joined by Filip and Mikhail who had a jubilant Luna in tow. The two girls began a quiet conversation that would have been entirely secret if not for their matching grins. It wasn't long before Ginny almost skipped over and she enthusiastically introduced Neville to the Durmstrang boys. Hermione asked about Neville's night which earned her an animated response. Her friend was apparently having the time of his life.
Hermione had shared with Viktor how Neville had stood with her during a difficult time at the beginning of the year and she couldn't help but grin as she watched her date make every effort to include her friend in his conversation, introducing Neville to the broader Durmstrang group with his hand on Neville's shoulder as the Gryffindor looked on, gobsmacked.
Hermione managed a few words in broken French to Filip's date Claudia, before she was pulled aside by Ginny. "Neville is amazing," she began, "like seriously good footwork for a boy that walks about like he's only just learned to stand."
"Ginny!" Hermione chastised.
"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," Ginny defended.
They commented on Claudia looking exhausted, which was no surprise given Filip's enthusiasm before talk turned back to Ginny's partner. "He's spoken about you a bit tonight," Ginny confided.
"Really?" Hermione asked concerned.
"Don't worry," Ginny reassured her, "it was sweet really, I may have pointed him in the direction of Hannah Abbot," at Hermione's confused expression she clarified, "she's got a crush on him."
"Thanks, Ginny," Hermione responded, relieved.
"That's what I'm here for Hermione, though if you start dressing like that all the time, I might need more resources. At the moment it's only the nice boys who have the intelligence to seek you out, but if I have to start dealing with superficial idiots as well, my rate goes up."
Hermione rolled her eyes, she was unconvinced that Neville's interest was anything more than fleeting. Apart from Viktor, no one had ever hinted at having anything like affection for her, it was utterly ridiculous to think that more people would be somehow waiting in the wings.
After Viktor passed her another drink, assuring her it was safe, Hermione saw Ron and Harry hovering on their own a little way off and excused herself to go and say hello to her other friends.
The conversation around Viktor continued, but he paid it no real attention, his eyes were once again firmly fixed on Hermione. He hadn't been kidding earlier when he said he was struggling with his articulation, but a lot of it wasn't even down to the language barrier. She had looked breathtaking when she came down the stairs, not that she didn't always look captivating, but seeing her in that frosted blue gown was a whole new experience for him.
He'd managed a few dances himself after he had been forced to give her up on the dancefloor but for the rest of the time he had been content to just watch her. He was powerfully put in mind of his parents, at whatever event they were attending, no matter how large, Viktor was convinced that his father knew where his mother was in the room at all times and vice versa.
He was about to turn back around and force himself to stop staring when he saw the narrowing of the redhead's eyes. When her friend got up from the table they were sat around, Viktor watched Ron's fists clench and unclench and before he knew it he had started walking. He didn't want to interfere; it wasn't his business, but he would make sure she knew he was there if she needed him. Before he could make it to her side, Hermione had shouted something he couldn't make out over the music and was hurrying out of the Great Hall.
The castle being mostly unfamiliar to him did not make it easier to find her, but Viktor was determined. Helpfully he had at least caught sight of the direction she scurried off in. Someone with such short legs should not be able to move so quickly.
When he found Hermione, she was slumped on the bottom step of a large staircase, her voluminous skirt puffed out around her, as she tried to control her breathing and dabbed at her face with the pads of her fingers. Reaching into his pocket, Viktor pulled out a handkerchief which he pushed into her hands as he sat down next to her. He didn't try to say anything at first, her breath was catching, and he didn't want to force her to speak while she was obviously so upset, so he stretched an arm around her shoulders, rubbing the tops of her arms until he could feel her relax beneath his fingers.
"So… Sorry," she panted out, her chest still heaving.
"Do not apologise," he murmured, "you have falling out?"
"Yes," she admitted in a small voice, using his handkerchief to wipe the fresh tear tracks from her cheeks.
Viktor thought about the state she was in and the considerations that had entered his mind before, as to whether there was something more to Hermione and her friend than had been apparent. "You care for him?" he asked stiffly.
Hermione stilled under his hands, and he knew she had grasped his meaning. "I did," she answered finally.
"Not anymore?" he pressed.
"Not anymore," she confirmed. "Not like… not anymore."
Viktor nodded, not that she could see it and pulled her a little tighter into his side. He wanted to pull her into his lap until she calmed, but he was worried it might make her sob again.
"Because of row?" he asked and Hermione sniffed into the borrowed handkerchief.
She looked up then, her bottom lip pulled under her teeth and her face puffy. "No, not because of the row," she whispered, "I… I haven't thought of him like that for a long time, maybe I never did, I think it may have ended before it had actually begun in my mind."
Once again Viktor nodded taking a few moments to work through what she had said. If there was something he valued in the shivering girl more than anything else it was her honesty. "Will you come back in?" he asked, not wanting their night to end like this, looking up briefly when he could hear movement.
"My face?"
Viktor pointed to the end of the corridor where a murderous-looking Ginny and a worried Luna were marching in their direction as fast as their heels would allow. "There you are," Ginny called, grabbing Hermione's arm and tugging her up, "come with us" she demanded.
Viktor went to step forward but Luna stopped him. "We will have her back in five minutes," she promised before disappearing.
Mikhail was hovering - with as much subtlety as he ever managed - by the main doors when Viktor got back to the hall. "She is okay?" he questioned, handing him a glass of punch. At first, Viktor wondered how he had known but he realised Ginny was hardly likely to have left the hall - angry as she was - without drawing attention.
"She is… she will be fine," Viktor breathed out softly in an attempt to sound calm, which was negated by the glare he sent in Ron's direction.
Mikhail followed his line of sight. "Do not lose your temper, he is fourteen," he offered quietly with no air of chastisement. Viktor opened his mouth to protest, but the other boy cut him off. "Before you say anything, Hermione is fifteen, and more mature than the rest of us. Besides, your intentions are honourable, no?"
"Yes," Viktor gritted out, "Does not mean I cannot think he is a dick, though"
Mikhail laughed. "All these new words you are learning Viktor. Though I do not believe that one came from Hermione." Viktor scowled and Mikhail placed a hand on his shoulder. "Do not pout; I said do not hit him, I did not say you could not scare him, just not tonight, no more incidents."
Viktor reluctantly agreed, the last thing he needed right then was to attract the attention of Karkaroff. Both boys abruptly stopped talking when unexpectedly, Potter stopped in front of them. He hovered for a moment as if he was still deciding what his next course of action would be before he turned to them."Err, is Hermione okay?" he blurted out as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
"She is fine Potter, is with Ginny and Luna, will be back soon," Viktor gritted out. Where had Potter been when Ron was shouting at her?
"Good good," the younger boy replied, rocking back on his heels, "honestly this… her being here… with you… was a bit of a surprise."
Mikhail stifled a laugh as Viktor tried to work out what was being implied by such a statement. If it had come from anyone else he might have inferred an insult but Potter had never seemed to be the type to speak in riddles. Before he could reply Filip joined them from another exuberant turn on the dancefloor, and with his friends around him, Viktor felt his agitation fade. Ignoring an enquiring face from Filip, Viktor turned back to Potter. "Oh?" he questioned lightly.
Potter shrugged as an expression of genuine confusion came over his face. "Well, yeah, I mean, Hermione doesn't even like Quidditch. How did you get to know each other? What do you even talk about?"
Despite the events of the last hour, Viktor felt himself smile. "Potter, when you are man you will understand there are many things to talk to a beautiful witch about that do not include how well you ride a broom."
"Though that can be good place to start," Filip interjected, and Viktor coughed into his hand.
"But Hermione hates flying," Harry replied, as his eyebrows pinched. When Mikhail snorted into his glass, Viktor punched him in the arm.
When Hermione eventually re-emerged looking no worse for wear, Viktor made a silent promise that he wouldn't leave her side for the rest of the evening. He ignored her sheepish expression when she approached and instead of words, placed his hand on the small of her back and led her to the dancefloor. One song later he felt Hermione sag into his firm hold and he smiled into her hair.
All too soon Viktor became aware it was getting late. The crowd around them was beginning to thin, and a few of his own schoolmates were heading towards the doors. Hesitant but determined, he asked Hermione if she might like to go outside with him, intent on a slightly more private - though entirely appropriate - goodbye.
They moved beyond the main doors and into the night to see the grounds subtly lit up with a series of twinkling blue lights hanging in the air, seemingly suspended from nothing. They walked around for a while before settling under a large gazebo that had had warming charms applied around it, blocking the worst of the chill.
"It's so lovely out here; this was an excellent suggestion," Hermione whispered reverentially as her eyes traced the trailing ivy that was fluttering around them in the breeze.
"Too many people in there, have not had you to myself all evening," Viktor teased. "I am used to having your undivided attention, you are making me selfish."
Hermione laughed at his behaviour before he noticed her shudder slightly, immediately getting to his feet Viktor loosened the straps on his cloak. She made some soft protest reading his intent, and he silenced her. "You promised you would tell me if you were cold, remember?"
"Yes," she replied, as he delicately draped the heavy fabric over her shoulders and he saw her almost collapse under the weight of it. "Thank you," she breathed out, and he smiled. He liked the look of her in his clothes, in his colours, under his protection - even if it was only from the night air.
"You are welcome," he replied leaning forward to fasten the tie around her neck to keep the two sides together. As he bent to reach her, his eyes dropped to her lips for a moment, and, as if compelled, he pressed his hand to her cheek delicately. Viktor paused to luxuriate in her soft skin before he looked up into her eyes, checking her expression for any sign of hesitation, and finding none. "Hermione," he said, inches away from her face, "I am going to kiss you now."
He waited just long enough to see her subtle nod and moved to drop the softest of kisses against her lips, her full mouth - that he had imagined pressed against his since she had fixed his nose - was cool from the night air and Viktor was dimly aware that he could feel them heat under his determined attention. He had intended to pull away immediately but when he saw Hermione's eyes flicker shut he changed course. He kissed her again, gently, moving his hand from her cheek and into her hair as he twisted a loose curl about his fingers. As he kissed her a third time he felt her begin to respond, tentatively, but surely, and his other hand moved to her waist to pull her closer.
Finally, reluctantly, he pulled away, wrapping both his arms around her slender waist and pulling her in for a hug, dropping a final kiss on her forehead.
"Sŭvŭrshen," he whispered into the cold night sky as he wondered how on earth he would leave her at the end of the year.
A/N: So, that was the ball, I will be posting the girl's outfit inspo on Tumblr for anyone that likes to see that sort of thing. That last word is 'perfect' by the way, or it's supposed to be, it was done using an internet translator which, like me, is fallible.