It took longer than Hermione had anticipated for Harry to broach the subject of Viktor. Since the moment he had stared wide-eyed at her across the champions holding room, the night of the Yule Ball, she had waited for him to mention it. A few times she had come so close to breaking she nearly did it herself but Hermione always stopped herself at the last minute. Because she hadn't told him, her relationship with Viktor had been forced on Harry as a surprise. She would give him the chance to come to her first. Even if her excessive nervousness killed her in the process.
Her best friend and her… whatever Viktor was, had spoken at the ball, Hermione already knew that much from Luna, who had been filled in on the unexpected chat while she had been dancing with Mikhail. Luna didn't go into specifics, but for whatever reason, the Durmstrang boys were minded to think that Harry was ok, more ok than Ron in any case. While it wasn't conclusive proof that all would be well, Hermione allowed herself to feel relieved, her relationship with Viktor, such as it was, didn't, couldn't take away from Harry being her best friend, TriWizard tournament or no TriWizard tournament.
It had been evident in the run-up to the dance that Harry was as much at sea when it came to dating - and all of its unforeseen trappings - as Hermione was, possibly even more so, if such a thing could be believed. He hadn't handled the Cho situation overly well after all. Hermione found that awkwardness they shared strangely comforting. She had put her own ineptitude down to her general lack of social awareness, formed over years of prioritising knowledge over people. Harry, for all of his bravery, could lack confidence in the strangest of times. He would never back down from representing a cause he believed in, it just seemed that himself was not one of those things.
When Harry eventually approached Hermione it was in the common room, she had a suspicion he had done so on purpose so she couldn't beat a hasty retreat if the conversation got difficult, she silently both commended and condemned him for his foresight. Harry pulled out a seat at one of the large study tables where she had settled herself, surrounded by parchment and open books. Hermione didn't generally study in the common room, preferring absolute silence that she would never find in the Tower; however, the library had lost some of its previously perpetual sheen now Viktor didn't have the time to join her anymore, a thought she would never repeat to anyone, not even Luna.
"So… you and Viktor," Harry stiffly began as he dropped into the seat beside her. Hermione's hand stilled in the middle of writing out her complex sentence. Typically she would have ignored any interruption, making the interloper wait until she had finished, but not this time. She looked up at her friend, waiting for him to continue and when it was apparent that Harry hadn't planned any further statements, Hermione sat up a little straighter and folded the book she had propped open, giving the matter her full attention.
"Me and Viktor," she acknowledged softly before lapsing into silence. The two teens stared at each other for a few minutes, and Hermione wondered at the ridiculousness of it.
"So are you?" Harry pressed, and Hermione felt the beginnings of a headache at her temples. This was going to be even more faltering than she had thought possible, doing them both a favour and swallowing her reserve, she headed him off.
"We are… friends and we are spending time together, as to anything else, I don't know yet," she answered honestly.
Hermione could tell from a glance out of the corner of her eye that despite their deliberately low tones they were starting to attract attention. Her gaze darted around the room, and when they connected with Harry again, he shrugged before quietly suggesting a walk. Once they had wrapped themselves up to face the crisp weather, they headed for the portrait hole and by silent agreement moved towards the lake.
"You kept it quiet… really quiet," Harry began as soon as they were far away from the main entrance to ensure they were no longer being overheard. Hermione felt her heart sink, she had been expecting some admonishment from her friend and a deserved one at that. She had deliberately kept her friendship with Viktor a secret, and if the shoe had been on the other foot, she would have been hurt. It was easier with Ron. Hermione had known he would overreact; therefore she had a built-in justification for her omittance. It was inevitable that he would say or do something to rule himself out of deserving an explanation, but not Harry. Harry had been surprised by her being with Viktor at the ball, but even so, his first impulse had been to ensure she was ok, not to ridicule her. He had spoken to her often throughout the evening and had even gone so far as to check up on her with Viktor when she had been upset. Considering he was intimidated by Viktor's fame and talent that could have been no small feat and something Hermione greatly appreciated.
Hermione fought to stop her arms from crossing over her chest and nodded in total agreement. She couldn't argue, she had done all she could to avoid detection.
"Why?" Harry asked softly.
"I'm not really sure," she replied. "I didn't want anyone to question it, I didn't want to question it," she explained looking at the floor. Those early feelings of inadequacy when it came to Viktor weren't wholly gone; she had feared the skepticism of even her closest friends.
"I'm not just anyone Hermione; I'm your friend."
Hermione winced at the earnest plea Harry's his tone, but she was angered by it too, just a little. It was the same anger that surfaced whenever Harry sided with their other friend. "And Ron?" she questioned, her voice slightly barbed.
"Well, I understand that he…" Harry trailed off, he seemed unsure of how to finish his sentence and Hermione could hardly blame him. Relations between herself and Ron had been decidedly frosty since the ball, but the tension, at least on her side, had dissipated, there was no point crying over spilt milk. She had been hurt, he was her friend, and his words had been unthinking and cruel, but she had gotten over it. She and Ron argued that was their dynamic. As friends, it worked, Hermione recognised now that any romantic relationship it had the potential to be borderline unhealthy.
"I suppose I wasn't sure how you guys would take it, and then... The tasks and everything," she voiced quietly, Hermione didn't expect Harry to accuse her of fraternising or any such nonsense, but she was still cautious.
Harry's eyes softened, "Hermione, you need to tell me these things," he asserted firmly.
"I will… I'm sorry Harry, I really am. It wasn't my intention to keep it a secret for so long. At first, I didn't say anything, and then it just spiralled until I wasn't sure how I would even begin anymore." Hermione looked away and fixed her eyes at some far off figures, walking along the other side of the lake. She hated being in the wrong, almost more than anything else. Though she could hardly claim perpetual ownership of the moral high ground, she did her best to root her feet there whenever possible.
"How did it even start?" Harry asked, looking at her with a bemused expression, a weak imitation of his face the moment he had first seen her at the ball.
"Well, you remember at the World Cup how he-"
"-At the World Cup, you met him at the WORLD CUP!" Harry screeched, and Hermione nodded, scared to say anything else in case it set him off again. Harry sighed and waved a hand over his face, "Disregard everything I just said about honesty. Never tell Ron you met then, he might expire."
"Okay I won't," she replied quickly, and Harry made a rolling motion with his hands, Hermione gulped in a breath. "Well, he came up to the box we were in, Viktor, I mean, and he must have heard me muttering to Ron about how no one had fixed his nose... I think I got wrapped up in how poorly he was being treated and -"
"Typical," Harry muttered.
- forgot myself," Hermione finished. When she registered Harry's tone, they exchanged a smile and Hermione felt lighter. Wordlessly they moved together to sit on one of the benches that faced back towards the castle, and she bundled over next to him for warmth.
"He came over, and we chatted, but only briefly. Though his English wasn't as good then and somehow I… I ended up healing his nose," she admitted.
"And none of that merited a quick mention later on? Or is conversing with one of the most famous sportsmen in the world all in a day's work for you," Harry needled, and Hermione sighed in relief, she was glad to see that whatever hurt Harry had been carrying from her actions had dissipated.
She rolled her eyes, "If you remember we were attacked by Death Eaters straight after and then I wasn't entirely convinced everyone would believe me; I didn't believe it, and I was there."
Harry huffed out a laugh. "So, did he tell you about the tournament?"
"No," Hermione replied thoughtfully, "though I think he knew, he alluded to seeing me again, but I figured it was just a casual reference, I certainly didn't expect to see him marching through the doors of the Great Hall only a few months later."
"But you were pleased to though, right?" Harry asked, and when she didn't answer immediately, he bumped her shoulder.
"Yeess," Hermione begrudgingly admitted, tucking her face further into her scarf to hide her discomfort.
"Well, I'm glad… if you like him, that is. I don't know how this works because we've never had to do this before, but you should know I'm not going to storm over and ask what his intentions are. Firstly, because you can handle yourself, and I imagine you would be absolutely incensed by it. Second, he is a lot bigger than me Hermione, like a lot bigger, I don't even know how he made seeker, he's huge," Harry said, making a wide gesture with his arms that made Hermione giggle.
"He is isn't he?" she replied dreamily, and Harry snapped his face to hers looking positively disgusted.
"Stop… just stop that, I'm trying my best to adjust here, and that's not helping," he chastised.
"I'll try, but you have to admit he's very distracting," she laughed out, almost choking on her mirth when Harry shuddered.
He narrowed his eyes at her. "You are spending way too much time with Ginny, she's corrupting you, and I don't like it. No wonder he looks so besotted if you talk like that."
Hermione sighed. "I don't talk like that with him, mainly I'm artless, totally fumbling and red-cheeked while he's calm articulate and very present you know?"
Harry looked at her as if she was speaking an entirely different language, which Hermione supposed, given their usual conversions, she was. "Honestly, I have no idea what you're talking about, but you are spending the rest of the day with me, and I will nag at you until you start lecturing me to stay safe and study, then I will know all is right in the world."
"Thank you, Harry," Hermione murmured as she snuggled into his side. They regarded the school quietly for a while, and Hermione felt entirely at ease.
"So," Harry began a while later, "am I allowed to tease you about 'spending time' with the most famous Quidditch player in the world?"
"Maybe," she conceded with a laugh, "but only if," Hermione bit her lip, "if you could maybe teach me to understand it a little bit?"
Harry's eyes widened though whatever he was going to say was cut off by the sound of raised voices coming from the direction of the of the greenhouses. Hermione snapped her head around and saw Headmaster Karkaroff and Professor Moody arguing; it looked like no small disagreement, the men were practically snarling at each other. While the headmaster loomed over the older man, their professor showed no sign of being intimidated, in fact, quite the opposite. Whatever they were saying wouldn't carry across the distance, and the two friends watched the growing confrontation in silence until Moody suddenly shunted forward raising his shoulder to collide roughly with Karkaroff's chest and then limped away back towards the castle. The Durmstrang headmaster sagged when his combatant left, and Hermione took the opportunity to look at him more closely. In truth Karkaroff did not look well; gaunt lines were discernible in his face, and he had the air in general of a man troubled. He didn't wait around long after Moody had left, after collecting himself he stood tall and marched off in the direction of the ship.
"What was all that about?" Hermione muttered, and Harry turned to her his expression serious.
"I think Moody was the arresting Auror for Karkaroff," he imparted gravely.
"Oh, that's… I don't really know what that is… unfortunate?"
"That's one word for it," Harry scoffed mirthlessly. "I don't trust him, Hermione," Harry warned.
She nodded in understanding. "I'll be careful," replied and when faced with his disbelieving look she continued, "I promise."
Hermione felt a new sense of peace following her conversation with Harry, her best friend had clearly forgiven her for her omissions so far that year, and she had promised that she would not keep anything from him again. Buoyed, with a definite spring in her step, Hermione walked towards the twins who were cloistered in a dark corner of the common room, hiding. If the scuttled movements they made as she approached were any indication, they were definitely up to no good.
"Gentleman," she said politely, and two sets of eyes looked up at her, conveying as much innocence as they were able.
"Granger, this is an unexpected-" Fred began, swiftly turning his back to the table to face her - no doubt blocking something they didn't want her to see - and George followed suit.
"-pleasure, what can we do you for?"
"One signed photograph as requested," Hermione said proudly, pulling the picture out from her robe pocket and handing it over. In truth she had held onto it for a couple of days, Hermione told herself that she hadn't had the chance to give it to the boys, but as she'd had meals next to them at least twice since she had obtained Viktor's autograph, it was a pretty flimsy justification. Which was why it was a good job no one else knew about it.
Fred grinned down at the photo in his tight grasp before picking up a book and reverentially placing in between the pages for safe keeping. "Much obliged Granger, and in lieu of payment," he said, putting his hands into his own robes and proffering her a small piece of parchment.
"We thought this might make us square," George finished.
Hermione turned the parchment over in her fingers with her brow furrowed until she saw the moving image begin; Viktor and her walking into the ball. The photograph version of her took a few steps forward, smiling self-consciously, and the photograph Viktor grinned down at her.
Fred smirked. "Nice picture, isn't it? I mean it's not signed-"
"-not like ours, but nice all the same. I suppose you could get Viktor to sign it," George pondered.
"But that seems a bit silly," Fred countered.
"Silly?" Hermione questioned looking up from the caught image.
"Yeah," they replied in unison.
"Signed pictures are for souvenirs, keepsakes you know? You don't need those when you have the real thing."
"Which it looks like you do Granger, if you want it."
Viktor swept up into the air at a speed that ruffled the front of his short hair. Higher and higher he soared until the castle, the ship and all the worries he had seemed far, far away. He was practising his drills on the Quidditch pitch - just him and his broom - having obtained special permission to do so while Hogwarts classes were in session. The Durmstrang timetable was different, and this way he would be less likely to attract unwanted attention. His fellow students no longer paid any particular attention when he was flying, to them he was just Viktor, not Krum, and the sight of him on a broom only ever caused a few of them to join him at most.
He neatly landed, coming to a stop before stepping off the broom and walking towards the practise balls he had brought along. Viktor ran through what he had planned for the next hour doing everything he could to not look back over his shoulder, back towards the quiet castle. He couldn't help wondering where Hermione would be right now; he didn't know for sure what class she had, having made a point to actively stop himself from learning her schedule, though he had often been tempted by her planner lying open next to him in the library. Routines and order were things Viktor could commit to memory quickly; lesson notes, Quidditch manoeuvres, official team lines for the press. He could have learned Hermione's weekly itinerary in a matter of minutes, but he had so far managed to stop himself. It would be hardly helpful to become obsessive.
Obsessive or not he was definitely thinking about her more. After the ball, Mikhail and Filip had both fed back, in their own unique ways, that they liked Hermione. Viktor suspected that Mikhail's version of 'getting to know her' had been aggressive, but Hermione hadn't complained; she was well versed in the protective instinct of friends. Viktor's first conversation with Ginny Weasley had hardly been easy going, and he strongly suspected that Luna could straight up read his mind which, given the way his thoughts tended, was becoming more of a threat with every passing week. It was important to Viktor that their friends approved of them, and each other. Not that their say so was the be all and end all, but if he got his way they would hopefully see a lot more of each other, the two groups being able to stand to be in the same room would make life easier for all.
Releasing the quaffle from its confines, Viktor pressed his hand against the balls hard surface and activated the practice charm that would have it dart around the pitch before swiftly following its progress on his broom. All the while he told himself that his occasional glances into the school windows were merely an attempt to check for signs of the large red sphere.
Viktor wished he could see Hermione more than he was currently able. The ball had confirmed that he was falling for her, and how could he not be? Hermione was everything he had ever wanted, she was kind, warm, funny, smart, sharp, bossy, but more than a list of desirable attributes he got this sense from her, a feeling of real kinship. Their time together never felt forced, it was awkward, at times, but a real awkward, a nervous awkward, an awkward that they would one day be able to laugh at, he hoped. Her actions at the dance had done a lot to dissuade any doubts he had over her feelings. He was learning that she was open with her heart, he just had to look a bit harder to see the signs.
Viktor had mentally relived their first kiss far more times than was becoming in a young man, but he couldn't help it. He'd kissed girls before, many times, but it had never been anything like that. Something about the way Hermione had reacted and the trust she placed in him had been exhilarating. From the moment his heavy cloak had draped over her slim shoulders he had felt a more profound sense of inner peace than at any other time in his life. Hermione had remarked throughout the evening that he always seemed so relaxed, Viktor had been somewhat surprised that she hadn't realised that it was down to the effect she had on him, he certainly didn't usually feel like that around people he had only known for a few months.
People had called him surly or quiet since he was little, and since his burgeoning career had taken off his demeanour had invariably been interpreted as a sign of him being either arrogant or socially awkward, sometimes they cited a mixture of both. Viktor had never tried especially hard to dispute those claims as the image he had gained - without wilful cultivation - suited him, that people thought of him as rude or stupid was a small price to endure if it ensured he was left alone. But Hermione never questioned his quiet patches, or bemoaned his lack of flowery address; she seemed to like his plain speaking as much as he liked her mix of fidgeting responses and passionate defiance. Hermione seemed to appreciate the small things he did for her, little gestures and gentle teasing, it made him more comfortable to be himself around her, something he wasn't sure he had ever let himself be on such a short acquaintance before. His previous experiences had taught him that women wanted to be introduced to a person who matched up to the 'legend' his sporting prowess had created, Hermione wanted to know the boy, the man, behind it.
By now Viktor was aware that his attentions had been so marked they would no longer be ignored, and that created a problem. While his reputation and fame had placed a bubble of revetment around him, Viktor had noticed that it did not do the same for girls he was associated with. Already he had seen the hostile glances sent in Hermione's direction; he wanted to save her from cruel exposure as much as possible. He had made the decision to enter a profession that had the downside of making him, to an extent, public property, but she hadn't. Though he suspected that someone like Hermione would end up notable herself before long. Viktor had tried to keep his distance more than was strictly necessary, principally because of his workload, but also to avoid the gossips of the world, but now the means no longer justified the reward, it just wasn't possible for him to stay away from her anymore.
By the middle of February, the oppressive burden of expectation that had been hanging over Viktor's head began to diminish. He had pushed himself harder than ever and finally, he felt fully prepared, at least for what was to come over the next couple of months. The final task was still on the horizon, but as Viktor had no idea what that would entail, there was little point adding it to his list of worries, yet. He had worked out his approach to the second task and was on top of all of his school work, more importantly, he had finally come to a decision on his plans for next year. All in all, he had built up enough slack to allow him to enjoy a day as he chose.
Viktor sat in the Great Hall in his usual seat, a spot which gave him an excellent view of the Gryffindor table. As he reached for a jug, he looked over at Hermione who was sat picking at a meagre breakfast, eyeing it with apparent disinterest. She wasn't talking herself, but he could see Ginny murmuring an almost constant stream of chat into her ear. Hermione nodded or quirked her lips into a gentle smile every now and again, but otherwise didn't take her eyes off her plate; that was until the owls arrived.
What seemed like hundreds of birds flew into the vast space, so tightly packed together that they moved like an undulating, noisy cloud, some of them weighed down with large looking packages. To the Durmstrang boys, an open celebration of Valentine's day was a strange experience. Coming from a single-sex school the present giving on February 14th was sparse, and those that were exchanged were done so privately. A quick glance towards his headmaster quickly revealed how disgusting Karkaroff found the display. Viktor knew he would never permit such antics were he in charge.
Viktor's eyes were torn from Hermione for a moment when he realised, with grim horror, how many of the invading owls were depositing pink-hued letters and boxes next to his place setting. He couldn't do anything to prevent the colour that crept across his cheeks, he could feel the attention of all of those around him being drawn in his direction. Before Viktor could react Mikhail aimed his wand at the growing pile and with a soft mutter it was gone, banishing it back to their dorm no doubt. He nodded once in thanks and Mikhail rolled his eyes at him, his friend's feelings on 'fangirls' were similar to their headmasters for Valentine's Day itself.
Thankful as he was for his friend's quick thinking, it seemed it wasn't quite fast enough. Viktor's eyes darted back across the hall and caught Hermione stuck looking at the spot just next to him, her porridge caked spoon hovering forgotten in the air. Viktor shifted in his seat. Hermione's mouth unhinged as she continued to regard the now-empty patch of the table, and he felt himself grow uncomfortable. He should have been prepared for this. Getting to know her, Viktor had picked up on an undercurrent of insecurity in some of Hermione's actions, the fangirls that followed him around being a particular sore spot. He would have to work harder to make her understand how insignificant he found it all in comparison to her attention.
It took Viktor awhile to catch Hermione's gaze, and when he did she smiled, but the expression didn't quite reach her eyes. She was distracted by a relatively persistent owl who was nudging at her expectantly, keen to deposit his load. Viktor watched with rapt attention as she raised her eyebrows at the imposing bird before stealing a bit of bacon from Ron's plate - while he was looking in the opposite direction - before proffering it to the persistent creature.
Once her attention had been secured, Viktor began sorting out his food, after a brief period of laughing at Filip who had forgone a traditional breakfast to start working his way through the chocolates he had been sent. Viktor smirked as his friend spun on his seat shooting a wink at the blushing Hufflepuff sender who erupted into giggles at his overt attention. Viktor didn't need to watch Hermione open her package; he knew what was in it. In the brief free time he'd had over the last month he had been planning his gift. Viktor may not have been able to give her all he wanted to right then, but if Hermione was going to have a Valentine, he was determined it would be him.
The gift he had eventually settled on was a nicely wrapped, book, at least at first appearance, when she opened it she would find that the pages had been hollowed out to allow for three rows of delicate chocolates to be placed within. Viktor had wanted to make a point along with his present. He knew lots of people brought her things to read, and he understood that Hermione loved books, but he suspected the lack of originality would sometimes disappoint her. He had picked up on her prickliness if he casually asked if she was off to the library. Viktor certainly didn't think academics was all she was, he loved his broom, but it didn't mean he wanted maintenance kit every year. Mostly he wanted his gift to stand out, especially if he wasn't the only sender.
Inside the hollowed out cavity, each ornate truffle was embossed with an individual rune, when decoded and read together they would convey a message asking Hermione to meet him at 3 pm that day. Viktor figured most of the castle would be in Hogsmeade by then, and it should afford them a few moments of much-needed privacy. While he would happily go wherever she desired, he would prefer never to step into that tea room again!
He looked up to check on her just as Hermione picked up the narrow slip of parchment he had included with his name and a swiftly written assurance that the mangled 'book' was actually a transfigured box. Viktor was going to send the present anonymously, as per tradition, but, after reflection, he hadn't been sure that Hermione would trust that an unsigned gift was from him, and as he wouldn't have the chance to speak to her until the afternoon the note seemed wise.
As he glanced across the room a final time, Hermione smiled beatifically at him, this time the expression read true all over her face. Then, the four rounds of chocolates he had to go through to get the runes to look legible were totally worth it.
Viktor was waiting on the grounds in front of the Black Lake when Hermione scampered out of the castle, and as soon as she saw him she sped up her steps, burrowing down into her thick jumper as she paced across the frosty grass. As she got closer, Viktor felt himself sag a fraction, even as his heart rate sped up. It wasn't as if he hadn't expected her to show up, Hermione was too polite for that, but he had never brought anyone what could be considered a romantic gift before, let alone made one, and while it was fairly evident that he was the one most comfortable with their present situation, it didn't mean this wasn't new to him too. He kissed her on the cheek, and she thanked him for the chocolates, "and the puzzle," she said with a little grin that he couldn't help returning.
They walked off at a comfortable strolling pace, drifting in silent agreement, to one of the most secluded paths that took them around the lake. Viktor waited until the castle, and its potentially interrupting occupants were a distance away before he began on the topic he wanted to raise.
"I wanted to talk to you about... something," he began as the path narrowed a fraction, forcing them closer.
"Oh?" Hermione inquired lightly, looking up at his face. Her wide brown eyes were warm and inviting, conveying her interest.
Viktor nodded to himself, feeling reassured as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I think I am ready to make decision about team for next year, but would like to talk about it, with you, first. You maybe think of something I missed. I trust your judgement."
"That's… that's very flattering Viktor, please," she made a continuing gesture, "go on."
"I received many offers, maybe few more than I deserve but narrowed down to three, I have to give final decision by next week, transfer window closes and I need to sign contracts and things," he explained and looked back at her.
Hermione nodded, her expression serious. "You are feeling indecisive?"
Viktor sighed. "I thought so, at first, but I think I always knew decision I wanted to make, just not sure am making it for right reasons," he related, forcing himself to keep talking even though he felt sure he was explaining himself poorly.
"Well, I can't confess to know much about your sport but I… I think I'm getting to know you and if you explain it maybe I can help," she said brightly, and Viktor smiled at her earnest enthusiasm.
"First offer was from Montpellier Minotaurs, they are one of top teams in France and have reputation for excellence, second offer was from Kassel Kirschen-" Hermione smirked at Viktor, and he paused to look at her questioningly.
"What you like red?" she muttered.
Viktor rolled his eyes. "They are one of best teams with of branding and sponsors, would be good move to start building network for once I finish my professional career."
"Ok," Hermione said, "and the third offer your considering?"
"Vratsa Vultures," Viktor replied wistfully. "They are best team in Bulgarian Championship, and I have supported them since I was two," he imparted with a small laugh remembering the tiny kit his mother kept that had been his first ever Quidditch shirt.
Hermione tilted her head regarding him thoughtfully. "You clearly have a preference for the last one, so why the hesitation?"
Viktor wondered if he would ever be able to get anything past this witch, or if he would ever even try. "Bulgarian national team is strong, but Championship in country is not as strong as is in England, France, Germany or Sweden. It is good team, great team, but is not best team. There are people that will say I making easy choice," he sighed, the topic had been long discussed between himself and his manager.
"What else?" Hermione pressed.
Viktor ran his hands together to control his fidget and cleared his throat. "My mother wants me to stay in Bulgaria, stay with local team so I am not too far, I don't know if I am leaning towards that choice to make her happy. I want to be able to stand on my own feet," he admitted quietly.
Hermione continued walking ruminating over what he had said until they reached a bench and sat down. "Viktor, I think with these decisions you need to follow your heart. There might be more prestige in joining a French or German team but do you really need the exposure they offer for your career to be a success? You're already being heralded as the best seeker in the world, and you're not even a full-time professional yet. You have told me before that you vastly prefer playing national Quidditch as you get to play in your countries colours, if you go to Vastra you will be doing that every day. Who knows, you joining their Championship might even accelerate them into becoming a more prominent league."
Viktor snorted, and Hermione smiled softly at him before reaching for his arm. "As for your mother, I don't think you coming to the same decision is the same as agreeing with her reasoning. You could still take steps to gain your independence, get your own place closer to the grounds or something."
Viktor eased himself back onto the bench and let her words wash over him, hearing Hermione echo some of his more rational sentiments made him feel reassured. He held up his arm in silent invitation, and Hermione bashfully averted her eyes but snuggled in next to him, leaning her head against his chest as he wrapped the arm around her shoulders.
"Thank you, Hermione. I may have to keep you around, you are good at these things." He hoped his teasing tone covered just how earnestly he was craving such a thing.
"I am glad to be of service, and I would not be… totally opposed to being kept on retainer, should you need to speak to me in the future."
Viktor smiled at her brave words, braver now he wasn't facing her, as ever he had more to say but not today, he had planned to speak to her after the second task, once he had that out of the way he could work on what they were going to do about the future. The silence between them was comforting, and after a few minutes, he felt Hermione burrow tighter against his side and he dropped his cheek against her curls.
"Viktor," Hermione said eventually, and he hummed in acknowledgement, "how did you get that nick in your eyebrow?"
"What makes you ask?" he inquired, perplexed by the random question.
She shrugged, the movement was sluggish as she was held against him. "I noticed it a long time ago, in your pictures at the world cup actually, I had wondered if it was a Quidditch injury."
Viktor smiled against the top of her hair. "No, got it when I was little, chasing my dog, or she chasing me, I can't remember, but I fell, and that is how I cut eyebrow. Hair never grew back properly. But do not tell anyone, normally I make it sound more dramatic."
Hermione laughed making her hair tickle his nose. "Maybe the sport isn't as dangerous as I first thought."
"Not at all, Quidditch is exceptionally dangerous, I am very brave," he countered with a wry grin.
"You can't fool me now, you keep telling me it's nothing to worry about."
"Does this mean I might convince you to come to few games?" Viktor asked as he moved his hand to cup her cheek, angling her face towards him before pressing a gentle kiss on the top of her chilled nose.
"Oh, I suppose so," she breathily replied as he moved his head closer and trailed his thumb along her jawline. When he heard her breath hitch, he moved to her plump bottom lip, pulling her teeth out of its soft surface.
"Cheer me on?" he pressed as Hermione's pupils dilated and he could feel the heat of her skin, her short, shallow breaths, warming the air between them.
"I'm sure I could," she faltered, her eyes locking with his.
He pushed some hair behind her ear. "Wear my shirt?" he questioned.
"I…"
Viktor locked his lips over hers, muffling whatever she had intended to say. When she smiled against his mouth, he returned it before slowly nudging at her lips, signalling to her that he wanted to deepen their kiss. He could feel her hesitation, and so he waited, lightly continuing his attention until her mouth parted, then he slowly moved against her, harder now, swiping his tongue along one side of hers briefly before he withdrawing, laying a steady stream of gentle kisses against her mouth. He shifted his seat again pulling away as he registered her shiver. He swiftly unbuttoned his coat and pulled her into his chest so he could wrap one side of it around her, shielding her from the chill.
"Happy Valentines, Hermione."
Viktor stood in the middle of the sparse dorm room in his swimming trunks and performed the transfiguration for the third time only to get the same stunned silence in response, huffing slightly - as much as he was able to with gills - he cancelled the effect.
"What?!" he demanded impatiently. "I think this will work, it's far more likely to get a good mark than the bubble head charm."
Mikhail seemed to snap out of his trance first. "Maybe, but don't you think they will mark you down for only managing a partial transformation?"
"I could do the whole thing if I wanted," Viktor protested, crossing his arms defensively, "but how would I retrieve what I needed to with fins?"
"I think," Filip interjected, "whatever the judges say, it looks really scary… Like a reverse merman, but more... deadly," he said with reverence.
"Really?"
Filip's face lit into a smile. "It's so cool."
"I know right," Viktor said, relieved at the now smiling faces of his friends.
Mikhail laughed, "Let's just hope that whatever object you have to get isn't capable of sentient thought; otherwise you will scare the crap out of it."
A/N: Huge thanks to the beautiful people of Tumblr for contributing some, much needed, Quidditch team name help - Montpellier Minotaurs - was a suggestion from the wonderful Heeley and Kassel Kirschen - from the amazing Nautical Paramour. I got LOADS of amazing recommendations, many of those I have noted and will probably pop up in Parts Two and Three.