Hermione ground her teeth; the tense, squelching crunch was audible even above jarring scrunch of parchment, as the news article gave way to her biting fingers. It was the twentieth such noise she had made in under ten minutes, and she could feel Ginny's glare burning into her cheek from the other side of the breakfast table. She was making a scene, but she couldn't help it. Once again Hermione had woken up, her head full of pleasant memories from the day before only to have the engaging mist of thoughts evaporate as the newest article was placed in front of her. This one wasn't even The Daily Prophet. No. Somehow her love life was now suitable fodder for Witch Weekly. Hermione remembered having read somewhere that the magazine's readership was the largest of any lifestyle publication in the British wizarding world, her stomach sank as she realised it was no doubt shipped internationally. How many people would derive an opinion on her based on this trash?

"Hermione," Ginny snapped, as she finally lost patience waiting for a reaction. She ripped the glossy pages from Hermione's fingers. "This is pretty serious stuff," she continued as her eyes glided over the page swiftly.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "This is what passes for journalism?" she responded haughtily, "let's review what actually happened last weekend shall we? First, eight children had to go into the Black Lake as part of an increasingly bizarre competition, risking hypothermia and Merlin knows what else. Second, in order for this ridiculous event to even take place there had to have been an agreement reached between the merfolk and Dumbledore to make it happen, the first of its kind in more years than we have been alive. That's the real story Ginny, cohesion between magical creatures and magical folk, not this drivel."

Ginny placed the offending magazine on the table and looked kindly at her friend. "She's accusing you of using love potions, Hermione, which I'm sure I don't need to tell you is a crime. According to her, you are brewing them, and I quote 'to satisfy her taste for celebrity wizards', don't you think you should do something?"

"She also calls me the 'devious Miss Granger', and her primary source is Pansy Parkinson," Hermione huffed.

"Are you really not bothered by this?" Ginny asked, and Hermione shrugged.

"Not about what she's accusing me of," and at Ginny's incredulous look Hermione shook her curls, "not that I'm thrilled to be implicated in such things, but even for the rabble here it's a bit much to believe that I would go to such measures. But..." she paused, flexing her fingers nervously. "Viktor and I had only just spoken, and I'm not sure what he will think. He wanted me to meet his parents Ginny," she pointed to the paper, "this isn't exactly what I want them reading as background."

Hermione had told Ginny and Luna everything following her conversation with Viktor in the courtyard, having grabbed Luna on her way back to the Gryffindor common room. She had always intended telling them eventually, probably not in as much detail as she had divulged, but she had been distracted and nervous after leaving Ron and Viktor together in the frosty afternoon. Most of her words had been shared while she wore a hole into the common room carpet. Once Ron had returned, not long after, he had barely managed a hello in return to Hermione's greeting before he skulked off to his dorm. After that Hermione had continued her disclosure at a more leisurely pace. Ginny had looked starry-eyed and Luna her regular thoughtful.

Hermione looked across the table to where Ron was sitting, half asleep and yet still managing to eat two people's servings, as usual. Neither Ginny or Luna had much to offer on the potential confrontation between the boys, though Ron had been avoiding her since it had happened, not in his typical, angry way where he glared in her direction from whatever his vantage point, right now Ron didn't seem to wait long in a room once Hermione had entered it.

It had been much more awkward when Hermione had given a very abridged version of her conversation with Viktor to Harry. He had looked no more pleased to take part in the discussion than Hermione had been to initiate it, but he had been insistent she not keep things from him, so Hermione thought he was as obligated in it as she was. Harry had seemed incredulous that she would even consider going to Bulgaria, and looked at her as if she had suggested a day trip to the moon. 'What will your parents say?' he had pondered. Hermione wasn't letting herself think that far. She would wait to get over the hurdle of meeting Viktor's parents first; then she would have to find a way of roping in her mother into convincing her dad it was a good idea.

Hermione's wayward thoughts triggered a question as she poured herself some orange juice. "Come to think of it; I had only spoken to Viktor three days before."

"Yes, you said that," Ginny responded looking as if she would set the article on fire with her glower. Hermione huffed and dragged the magazine back over and skimming until she found the right place.

Witch Weekly has exclusively learned that the smitten Bulgarian Bonbon has gone so far as to invite the enterprising Miss Granger to his family home over the summer. Such infatuation is leaving the rest of the Hogwarts population stumped. Mr Krum is a highly desirable wizard, coming from an established family name and considerable wealth. Although foreign, he does have a professional Quidditch career that is only likely to gain in notoriety and fame when he goes full time at the end of next year. This reporter wonders whether such advantageous plans will last once their time together, due to the ongoing Tournament, comes to an end.

"But how did she know?" Hermione asked exasperated, not taking her eyes from the words.

"That's a good question, Hermione," Luna's tones drifted into her ear, and she jumped out of her seat, clutching a hand to her chest.

"Will you stop doing that?" she snapped without malice as she pushed aside her breakfast, she couldn't face the cold toast now.

"You are very jumpy today Hermione. That will be the Blibbering Humdingers; you should watch for those," Luna advised, sitting on the edge of the bench and pushing a teacup into Hermione's fingers.

"I'm more concerned with the interfering Skeeters at the moment," Hermione sighed, wrapping her fingers around the offered cup and finally relinquishing the article, which Ginny promptly ripped into tiny pieces.

In her desire to keep as far away from the whispering population of the school as possible, Hermione kept to the castle grounds, taking longer routes to lessons and picking up speed when she was not observed. Unfortunately, during her quest for invisibility, she forgot a crucial factor; the school's guests were based outside of the castle walls.

Hermione was rushing from the main entrance along to the greenhouses when she bumped into Mikhail, thankfully, not literally. She plastered on a weak smile at his greeting and forced herself not to fiddle with her hair or robe buttons. Hermione had been unsure about meeting Viktor's friends; she knew how close both boys were to him, and while she had hoped they wouldn't pay any attention to the article's claims, she couldn't explain how the paper knew about her being invited to his house over the summer. Hermione had been playing it over in her mind, it was precisely the sort of thing someone only interested in Viktor's fame would do, covertly tell the newspapers about their relationship, though, she mused, usually in that kind of 'kiss-and-tell' the story tended to be favourable to the person supplying the intel. Clearly not the case for her.

Hermione averted her eyes as she stood next to Mikhail's broad form, she would have much preferred to end up in Filip's path first, if they were angry with her, the bubbly Bulgarian would have just said as much then she could have tried to persuade him otherwise. Mikhail was unlikely to be that forthcoming; he kept his cards very close to his chest. "Is everything alright?" he asked eventually and Hermione shifted her feet. Bloody perceptive Bulgarians.

"Yes, I... well, I thought you might have been angry, with me, about the article," she forced out, chancing a look at his face to find him looking down at her blankly. "In Witch Weekly," she clarified.

"Oh," Mikhail replied, still looking vaguely perplexed, "No, did not read, just saw headline."

Well, that didn't tell her much. Hermione readjusted the bag on her shoulder and thought about running away, she wanted to, but with Mikhail in front of her, she couldn't help but ask the question that had really been bothering her.

"Has Viktor... seen it I mean?"

Mikhail regarded her thoughtfully. "Would think so; Filip has subscription. Do not ask, something about cosmetic charms being harder than people think."

Hermione felt the air leave her body in a sharp gust, she obviously understood the expression 'deflated' but had never felt it so literally before. So Viktor would have seen it, but what did he think? She wasn't likely to see him today, he had practice between lessons and…

"Hermione," Mikhail's voice broke through her whirring thoughts, and she bit her lip. "You might not like what am going to say."

Hermione steeled herself, "No?"

Mikhail seemed to take in her stiff posture and his expression softened, if only slightly. "If relationship with Viktor continues, from smile when he came back to boat after task it is clear that is what he wants, you need to get used to papers saying things. They do not want him to have anyone in his life. Does not mean he will be cross with you."

Hermione nodded, feeling a little silly for doubting Viktor's reaction. "It's just… we haven't known each other that long, and I know that maybe he might think that I betrayed a confidence…"

"He trusts you," Mikhail interjected with an air of finality. He made to move away but stopped after a couple of steps to look back at her. "Was bit about asking you to come for summer accurate?"

"Yes," she answered hesitantly, aware that Mikhail might have read more of the article than he had let on. Mikhail grinned an expression that Hermione wished she saw more of before he shook his head and eyed the ship on the lake.

"Thank you, Hermione, will see you soon."

When Hermione took her place at the Gryffindor table the next morning, it was eerily quiet in the Great Hall, so much so that she fancied she could hear the echo of her steps as she walked, as if the entire room had taken a collective gasp at her very presence. Hermione squared her shoulders, she had promised herself she would be braver today, no more taking a double length route to class and no more hiding in the library. Trying to ignore the glances in her direction Hermione reached forward and willed her fingers not to shake as she poured herself a juice and put some food on her plate. She could do this she reminded herself, she had survived worse.

Her resolve lasted until the first post arrived and she was suddenly sat under a deluge of swooping owls. Hermione watched with growing despair as envelopes of all sizes and colours formed a mountain by the side of her plate. She thought she might have a new appreciation for what it was like for Viktor on Valentine's day, well, that was until she opened them.

Hermione was an intelligent girl who had never really fit in all of her life. At her Muggle primary school, the kids weren't outright mean to her, it was more like they sensed the 'differentness' about her - in the way that kids always seem able to - they excluded her, pretended she wasn't there. Hermione, in turn, had played along in the only way she felt able, by acting as if she wasn't hurt by it. Then she had come to a magical school only to discover that she was already something of an outcast there as well. In the face of all this, she had never shrunk away from dislike or lack of inclusion, unkindness had made her harden. She'd heard her fair share of insults, some that floated off her back and some that pierced deeper. By now, after all she had weathered, Hermione was a firm believer that words were just words, and - even when they weren't - that you should never let anyone see how much they had hurt you. 'Never give anyone that kind of power over you,' her mother would say, and Hermione had clung to that advice like her own personal gospel.

Hermione opened the folded parchments with disdain, not believing for a moment that anything contained within could affect her, but she was wrong. So, so wrong.

It wasn't so much the particular phrases used, or the arguments people made, but the level of disgust, the obvious contempt she was held in that was the surprise. Some of the letters were short and to the point, advising her to end her relationship with Viktor less something unsavoury happened, sometimes described in great detail. Some were much, much longer, Hermione only skimmed those, her eyes picking out distasteful highlights. Some were pictorial, and a cursory revealing spell showed that a fair few were hexed.

When Hermione risked a glance towards the Slytherin table she realised Viktor wasn't there, she wasn't sure whether she was happy or sad about it. When she looked back around, Ginny was sat next to her, her fingers shaking with rage as she leafed through the envelopes Hermione had opened. What was she going to do with them all?

"Get rid of them," a cool voice said, and Hermione registered Fleur standing over Ginny's shoulder.

"You shouldn't read those," she continued authoritatively, "I get them a lot, banish them, burn them, whatever you do, just do not sit there and leaf through them. No one needs to read opinions from people who do not know you. It's like overhearing conversations, if a person won't say it to your face you can discount it."

Hermione nodded, grateful for a distraction from the mass of hate. "Why would people send spiteful notes to you?" she inquired.

"When you look like me you get blamed for everything," Fleur said with a sigh. "You looked at my mother's cow and it no longer gives milk... I will give you the contents of my vault for a lock of your hair… You have ruined me for other women. You know things like that."

"Things like that," Hermione parroted back without any real understanding, and she noticed Ginny's face twist as Fleur continued and gave her a little kick under the table. Her friend's behaviour towards the French student had taken a noticeable dip since the second task. 'Really?' she mouthed at her, and Ginny rolled her eyes.

Fleur departed with a swoosh of her hair, accompanied by some almost pained male sighs and Hermione thought she might be able to eat her breakfast now. Sadly, she was once again wrong.

"Well," Lavender loudly began from further down the table, eyeing the pieces of discarded parchment with a malicious smile. "You should have expected this to happen, Hermione, the public doesn't react well to... surprises and you going to the ball with Viktor was something of a huge... surprise."

Hermione looked at her dormate sidelong, trying to ignore the way the girl's voice had raised into a 'sickly-sweet' tone, she knew how far those words would have carried, and wondered how much of yesterday Lavender had wasted preparing this particular speech. "As a… friend," she continued, "I think all of these lies about him wanting to see you over summer are taking a bit far Hermione. I mean, you're going to look foolish when it all comes to nothing if I were you I..."

"Lav," Ron's voice interjected and Hermione's head whipped around to find him sitting two seats down from her. When had he got there? "Leave it out would you, I'm trying to eat my breakfast, I could do without a commentary on Hermione's love life, it interrupts my digestion."

"Of course Ron," Lavender simpered. "But she…"

"Really, Lav," Ron interrupted again, "Green isn't your colour."

It was as if the entire table had been frozen by a stray spell, everyone stopped moving at once, cutlery clanked against porcelain as those around them turned to look at Ron who was still tucking into his breakfast as if nothing had happened at all. "What?" He asked with slightly red cheeks when he noticed all of their attention.

Lavender looked like she might explode, but Ron cut her off. "I just don't want you to look stupid Lav," he said in a parody of her earlier words that Hermione wasn't sure the girl was bright enough to appreciate. "Krum likes her alright; that's all there is to it."

"But she..." Lavender protested again.

"Is my friend," Ron supplied, "so leave off."

There was no aggression in his tone; his face remained utterly impassive, but the dismissal was as obvious as the warning. When Hermione found time to ruminate later, she concluded that there was not a single person, other than Ron, at the table that morning that Lavender would have listened to. Hermione swallowed roughly as the noise died down and tried to carry on with her breakfast, though she could barely see the bowl in front of her through her swimming eyes and she resolutely ignored it when Harry, Neville and even Dean managed to good-naturedly thump Ron on the back throughout the meal.

When they finally finished and got into the hall Ron came alongside her and Harry, and Hermione managed a murmured, "Thank you," that didn't go anywhere near conveying her gratitude.

Ron smiled a little bashfully. "We good Mione?"

Hermione grinned, "We're good Ron."

Despite her earlier resolve being bolstered by Ginny's attentiveness, Ron's unexpected chivalry, and Fleur's advice, Hermione felt her newly supplied veneer of confidence begin to crack by the end of the day. More letters had arrived at lunch and having been anxious to shove some food down before the next lesson, Hermione had very carelessly opened one before properly checking it out and had ended up getting her fingers burnt by a viscous gel that had been placed inside. Hermione had gone along to the Hospital Wing, at Harry's insistence, which, as well as leading her to choke out an explanation to Madam Pomfrey, meant that she was late to her next class requiring her to strain to catch up with the notes, in spite of her sensitive fingers.

The corridors were nightmarish all day, reminiscent of her first year in the castle. Stares, whispers and even the occasional push had been chipping away at her, so when she sat down in her final period of the day, Hermione was at a low ebb. She had slunk into her seat next to Harry in the dungeon classroom and prayed - for maybe the first time - to get no attention at all, that hope died when Professor Snape waved his arm across the chalkboard and the day's topic appeared. Hermione hadn't been aware her heart could sink any further till she could feel the beats in the soles of her feet. Their professor gave his lecture on the dangers of love potion abuses to the soundtrack of sniggering snakes. Hermione had had enough.

Hermione couldn't find it within herself to go to dinner, and after managing to slope off from her friends she retreated into her - thankfully empty - dorm and pulled the curtains around her bed before lifting her first pillow. There, lying almost submerged in the fluff was Dragon. Hermione picked him up as she moved under the covers, ignoring his little snort of protest.

She had felt silly asking Luna for him back, but after the article, she couldn't be bothered to hide him anymore. Maybe she should have done; perhaps when Lavender saw it there would be another story, maybe this time they would claim she had Imperiused Viktor to give him to her? Hermione settled her head down on the pillows and ran her fingers over Dragon's scales. "I had a bad day," she whispered, admitting it made a rawness she couldn't swallow down appear in her throat.

Dragon leaned into her fingers before arranging his long neck over his legs that were sprawled out in front of him, looking at her with one eye open as if willing her to continue. Hermione sighed, "I've changed my mind, let's not talk about it, let's just sleep."

Dragon crept forward to nuzzle the first tear that fell down her cheek, and made no protest when the flow eventually made a little puddle in the bedding; he only continued to rub his scales against her face, crawling under Hermione's chin when her breathing had evened out.

Viktor came in for breakfast later that week and eyed the Gryffindor table as he always did, only his gaze lingered over an empty chair, next to Ginny. Hermione had missed a few meals, and he was done pretending to ignore it. Mikhail had told him about seeing her on the grounds, and how she had seemed anxious, Viktor had wanted to speak to her but hadn't yet had a chance, the possibility diminishing with every meal she missed. He had repeatedly talked it over with his friends, and they had told him to sit tight, told him he couldn't act on her behalf, and he agreed, mostly. But as he turned away from the Gryffindor table and saw a shiny black bob sat close to his usual seat Viktor allowed that information to slip to the back of his mind.

He had been incensed when he had first read the article. His conversation with Hermione after the second task had been the collimation of several months of getting to know her, the first real someone he'd had any romantic connection with. Seeing the details splashed across the papers for all to see had made him feel sick, as well as earning him a reprimand from his friends for issuing an invitation he had promised he wouldn't, no matter how many times he reassured them he hadn't scared her off.

When Viktor reread the article a few days later, irritated by Hermione's continued no-show, he was calm enough to focus on it properly; he found a few of the sources mentioned were students in Hermione's year, all of them girls in Slytherin house and he had wanted to act, it looked like he might finally have his chance. Stepping quickly before Filip could stop him, he stood in front of the long table eying the dark-haired girl with thinly veiled disdain. "You are Miss Parkinson, yes?" He grunted out.

The girl immediately paused in what she was doing, dropping her teaspoon and making a show of licking non-existent jam from the top of her lip. "Yes, Viktor, you can call me Pansy," she responded smiling coyly.

Filip, who had apparently caught up to him, made a not particularly muffled puking sound and Viktor noticed her eyes narrowed to a spot behind him. Couldn't even keep up the pretence for a few seconds.

"I am so happy to meet you properly, finally," she continued. Viktor shuddered, this was how he was used to being spoken to, all honeyed words and artful head tilts.

"You are same Miss Parkinson from Witch Weekly article?" he pressed, though he knew it to be the case.

"Well, yes, but you must understand the necessity of such a thing. I merely had your best interests at heart," she replied, sticking out her bottom lip in a poor imitation of a pout.

Viktor looked at her incredulously; he had no desire for this interaction to go on any longer. It made him feel even more tired. "You will stop with reporting of my girl, or I send formal letter to my father that will go to yours."

"Excuse me," Pansy snapped in a furious whisper, all semblance of the eloquent young lady long gone.

"Keep petty school rivalries where they belong… In school."

"How dare you, do you have any idea who I am, who my father is?" she barked, a faint pink smudge highlighting her cheeks.

"No, do not, but have no problem finding out." With that Viktor was done, but Filip clearly thought there may have been something lost in the translation as he stepped forward himself.

"I think English expression is do not piss him off."

After Pansy had marched off in hysterics, Viktor chased after Ginny who was leaving the hall. The redhead stopped when he called after her, offering him a small smile before raising her eyebrows in question.

"Ginny, can you get her coming to meals again?"

The small girl folded her arms over herself as she leant back against the wall. "She's not a delicate flower Viktor, don't imagine her up there weeping and feeling sorry for herself. She's just… she's had a hard time, and sometimes she likes to avoid conflict. She doesn't often let people close to her, and when she does, she doesn't like upsetting them."

"She is pretending it does not affect her," he responded shortly. He could admit, at least to himself, that he was annoyed that Hermione hadn't leaned on him over this, after all, they had spoken about she should have trusted him.

"Not really, in all honesty, I was more annoyed by what was written than she was. It was more that they had taken something private, something that belonged to her and tainted it. Well, that and I think she was worried that you might have thought she told that papers about going to your house in the summer."

Viktor started for a moment havening not even considered that Hermione would think that. He had been shocked at the detail the article had, but he had never believed that Hermione might have been the source.

"Just tell her," he implored with a sigh and turned away in hopes of finally having some breakfast.

"She's sleeping with the dragon you know?" Ginny called over her shoulder with a cheeky twist of her lips.

"Lucky dragon," Viktor muttered petulantly and made his way back into the hall.

Viktor steeled himself before dinner the next day; he had made a plan, if Hermione didn't show he was fully ready to ask Luna to get him into Gryffindor Tower, if he was going to break the rules he might as well go for broke and break a few at once. Thankfully, for his school record if nothing else, when he walked into the hall, Hermione was sitting sandwiched between Ginny and Harry, she looked a little pale but otherwise none the worse for her voluntary confinement. Viktor was immediately aware of the hush that fell over the room, it occurred to him that it was the first time they had been seen in the same place since the article had come out. He faltered for a second, unsure if Hermione wanted to talk to him or not until she met his eyes bravely, giving him something of a weak smile. Decision made.

Viktor waited until she looked back down at her plate before he walked over to her table. "Good evening, Hermione," he breathed into her hair, and he bit back his laugh, almost totally successfully, when she jumped.

"Good Evening, Viktor," she replied falteringly as she twisted on the bench to see him properly.

"You have been sick?" he questioned lightly, knowing he was pushing but he was unprepared to let it go entirely.

"No, I..."

"Then you should come to meals; you will need all weight you can gain for when you come to Bulgaria. Do not let 'summer' fool you, only means non-life threatening weather." She smiled a little brighter at that, and he glanced over at Ginny. "Would you mind?" he asked, gesturing towards the bench.

Ginny smirked. "Not at all," she replied with a wink and jumped from her seat to move opposite. Viktor took her place. Hermione stilled as his thigh brushed against hers and he watched her surreptitiously glance around the room at the hundreds of eyes that were on them. He leaned forward and swept his lips lightly over her cheek, ignoring the gasps that echoed in the quiet.

"Everyone knows now," he whispered to her, "no need to hide it."

"No, I suppose not," Hermione muttered though her cheeks were in flame.

While they shared a smile, Filip barged in from behind. "Budge up, Budge up," he called cheerfully before dragging his leg over the bench almost sitting on top of Hermione on her other side, pushing an unimpressed Harry into Ron.

"Will you be careful?" the dark-haired boy snapped apparently not in the mood for high jinks.

"Sorry, sorry," Filip called back, not sounding vaguely apologetic as he sat properly on the bench, pushing Hermione more snugly against Viktor's side. Lavender stopped all movement as the Durmstrang boys settled at the table, with her spoon on the way to her mouth, her eyes bulging but Filip, as usual, was blind to anyone else's feelings. "So, Hermione," he turned to her with a warm smile, "how do you keep up with two men, school work, and find time to brew illegal love potions? You must be busier than ever. Do you have schedule for time with them too? Is it colour coded? Can I see it?"

Viktor buried his head in his hands.

Luna suddenly made her appearance, dropping down to sit next to Mikhail, who had gained his seat with far less commotion. Viktor watched his friends face heat slightly as the blonde appeared and filed it away to bring up later. "Luna, what are you doing here?" Hermione asked as she reached for extra plates to hand to all the newly appeared diners.

"What?" Luna asked apparently confused, looking at the Durmstrang boys thoughtfully, "I thought we could all sit anywhere now."

When the menagerie at the table finally got down to eating Viktor turned to Hermione and pinched her side. "Feeling better?" he inquired softly.

"Much," she immediately replied before reaching to refill her pumpkin juice. Viktor battered her hand away to lift the jug for her.

"Don't do that again," he muttered. It wasn't a command; he would never take that kind of autocratic tone with Hermione, with anyone, but he wanted to make a point, Ginny's words about her avoiding conflict had resonated with him.

"I won't," Hermione promised before she thanked him for the juice.

Viktor nodded, "I heard you were sleeping with Fireball," he teased and didn't miss her eyes shoot up to Ginny accusingly; the redhead didn't look the least bit intimidated and met Hermione's expression with a grin. "To be clear," Viktor continued with mock sternness, "he is not invited to Bulgaria."

"And why is that Mr Krum?" Hermione asked her voice one of polite inquiry.

"Because after this year I am looking forward to having you to myself, not having to share, especially with one that has scales."

Their playful conversation continued, and Viktor was happy to put the stress of the last week behind them. It wouldn't be the last time something like this would happen, he was hopeful that in the future Hermione would feel more able to talk to him about it. He had his own worries about how involving her in his life would drag her into the public eye, in ways she would not enjoy, but he couldn't do anything about that, apart from making their time together worth the inevitable intrusion.

When Viktor returned to the ship that evening he felt like things had gone as well as possible. They had chatted to a few people on the table; Filip had managed not to offend anyone too drastically, and he had spent a bit of time with Hermione. He had also managed to quietly tell her about what he had said to Pansy. She wasn't overly happy with his approach, though her fire had melted when he kissed the end of her nose mid-rant. Viktor was somewhat surprised by his own behaviour, it wasn't in his nature to be overly affectionate, at least not publicly, but he had sat with his hand curled around Hermione's hip deliberately, and possessively. He was making a statement with his nearness, and he hoped it would be heeded.

As he walked down a dark corridor within the bowels of the ship he heard a metallic crash behind him, it wasn't unusual for things to get disturbed while the ship was moored at sea, as the current bumped it around, but in the still waters of the lake, it was… odd. He doubled back to see the door of the headmaster's study slightly ajar. After a moment's hesitation, he pushed it open further. "Is everything okay sir?"

There was no response, all was now silent. Viktor considered that it was probably best to leave well enough alone, but he couldn't ignore the gnawing feeling in his gut, he gently pushed the door further open and took a few tentative steps inside the room. The usually neatly ordered office was in chaos and standing in the middle of it all was Karkaroff, stripped down to just his white shirt, his collar and cuffs unbuttoned. Viktor was not sure he had ever seen him in so little clothing, he looked lighter, and it wasn't just because he was no longer wearing furs, his shirt, that would have usually fit against his skin, was billowing around his ribs. Sweat lined his brow and the top of his lip; his whole chest seemed to pulsate as he panted heavily.

"Viktor," he acknowledged casually, his voice weirdly hollow.

"Sir, is everything ok?" Viktor repeated, uncertain what else to say. He knew enough of his headmaster not to mention the state he was in, though he had never seen him in such a way before.

"It's fine, of course, it's fine," Karkaroff answered dismissively, running his fingers through his long hair.

It only occurred to Viktor how drunk Karkaroff must have been when he noticed that the glass on the floor came from Firewhisky bottles, but there was no liquid. The headmaster didn't slur or shuffle, but as he moved closer, his theory was confirmed by the smell on the man's breath, if the way it stung Viktor's eyes was any indication he was more than marginally inebriated.

Karkaroff fell back into his seat and looked up at Viktor, his eyes unsettlingly vacant. "Tell me, Viktor, are you confident in every decision you have made in your short life thus far?"

Viktor started at the unexpected question though his answer was resolute."Yes."

Karkaroff nodded. "At your age so was I. Hindsight is at once a glorious thing and a curse, make sure you do nothing that you will live to regret later in life."

Viktor nodded, standing motionless in the doorway not sure if he was needed or not. Several long minutes later the headmaster seemed to remember he was there again and shouted at him, his tone much more familiar, instructing him 'to go and be idle elsewhere'. Viktor didn't wait to be asked twice, though, as he walked away, he knew without question that something was very, very wrong.