A/N: This chapter is for arizonadaydreamer, who is an incredibly motivating friend.

Blissful contentment positively radiated from the Gryffindor table by Saturday morning. The latest in what had become a string of sensational news articles weren't exactly forgotten, but the student's preoccupation with them had given way to the more typical pastimes of Quidditch chat, school work groans and awkward flirting. Hermione, having never really been part of those discussions, was locked in conversation with Harry. Following the last minute nature of his solution for a dip in the Black Lake, he seemed to be taking preparations for the final task much more seriously. While fighting the dragon had been a fate more terrifying than most fourteen-year-olds could imagine, Hermione knew her friend; the competition had become meaningful to him the moment herself and Ron had been placed at the bottom of the lake. You could put Harry in as much personal danger as you liked and he wouldn't bat an eyelid. Other people's safety, however, did not sit well on his conscience. While Harry ran through a list of potential obstacles he could face, Hermione was making a rough list of texts they should start to go through. So engaged were they in the various pockets of discussion, the merry band of teenagers were oblivious to the goings-on around them, until the owl post arrived.

Though the school had moved on from Hermione's 'devious' ways to a certain extent, the same could not have been said for the general public. Unfortunately, it appeared that her mother's much-loved expression 'tomorrow's fish and chip paper' didn't quite hold water when the parchment in question contained not one but two of the wizarding world's most famous names aligning themselves with a Muggle-born. Stacks of envelopes had been coming in thick and fast every mealtime, and while their number might have been waning, the vitriol they contained hadn't ebbed in the slightest.

Hermione, sticking to the advice she had been given by Fleur, had been getting rid of the piles, but she didn't miss the concerned faces of her friends or the knot of crimson on the far side of the hall. When her repeated assurances that she was fine hadn't worked, she had turned to the girls for a more convincing, and permanent, solution.

As soon as the first parchment rectangle fell next to her plate - the light thud marking the first note of the oncoming downpour - Hermione got to her feet, her action mirrored by Ginny, by prior arrangement. "Attention!" the redhead called down their table, tapping the straight edge of her knife against her goblet until most of the bleary-eyed students shifted to look at her. "This morning we thought we would have a spot of friendly competition," Ginny said, lifting one of the letters from the growing pile and waving it in the air. "The aim is destruction, most impressive wins."

On cue, Hermione and Ginny both took a step back, levitating an envelope between them and inviting Harry to have the first go. He had blinked several times before a faint smile crossed his face, and he arched his wand arm before whipping it through the air with everything he had, impressively striking the parchment directly on the seal and scorching it till only dust remained. Muted clapping spattered around them until Harry shouted an indignant 'Oi' to be met with much more enthusiastic laughter.

Successfully having woken the students, most stood from the table to eagerly wait their turn. The Weasley twins hit one envelope in tandem with two different spells, the resulting bang making the parchment swell like a crinkly, beige balloon before deflating with a belching sound that made Hermione tut. As the competition continued, arguments broke out over who had done the best so far, and even a few of the nearby Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had a go.

When Ginny had laid out her idea the evening before, Hermione had been worried the professors would have an issue with such a ruckus at breakfast, but anytime she risked a glance at the top table all of their faces were curiously averted, as if they couldn't see what was happening at all.

Eventually, Seamus won, a pronouncement met by groans around the Gryffindor table, much to his indignation. He was a deserving winner, though Hermione was confident there would be spirited debate for some time as to whether his firework-laden explosion had been his intent or a happy accident.

The point made, Hermione retook her seat, and smiled at the now empty table next to her before she resumed her breakfast, slightly jogging when Harry bumped shoulders with her. Should Professor McGonagall have taken exception to the display, it would have been worth a detention to assure her friend she was okay and judging by his happy, relaxed expression, Harry at least, was convinced. Elated, Hermione turned towards the Slytherin table, hoping to see a similar effect, but the faces she was looking for were already heading towards the door. Meeting his gaze, she shared a quick smile with Viktor and debated whether or not to call him over. After his very public display of affection Hermione was feeling less unsure, but before she could resolve herself, Harry beat her to it.

"Hey, Viktor!" he shouted, halting the older boys progression. Hermione raised an eyebrow, and Harry leant back to speak so they would not be overheard. "Hermione, if he's going to be… you know? Around… I'm going to have to find a way to get through a conversation with the bloke without stammering."

Hermione gave Harry's arm a squeeze as Viktor and his friends reached them, and they exchanged polite greetings. "Fancy a game of Quidditch?" Harry asked, and Hermione had to stifle a smile, no longer positive that Harry's only motivation was getting to know Viktor better, not that it dimmed the gratitude or pride she felt in the slightest.

The conversation continued as the little group drifted towards the doors and Hermione wrapped her arms around herself happily as Ron joined them. He had stood awkwardly apart from them for a few seconds until Harry introduced him as a Chudley Cannons fan. A spirited discussion began after Mikhail said something in response that no one present needed to understand Bulgarian to conclude was derogatory.

They had only just made it out onto the grounds when the sound of pacing feet echoed behind them. Cedric caught up with a huge smile on his face, completely distracting anyone from his panting breath. "That offer stand for us too, Potter?" he asked excitedly.

Harry almost entirely suppressed a wince when he registered Cho was standing next to the Hufflepuff champion. "Yeah, sure," he answered limply, his shoulders slumped. But if he noticed Harry's lack of enthusiasm, Cedric didn't comment; his gaze had fallen back to Hermione who had intentionally dropped to the back of the group with Luna.

"You forming the cheer squad Granger?" he asked teasingly, causing Filip to whip his head around with an expression of unbridled delight, apparently entirely missing the heavily ingrained sarcasm in Cedric's tone.

Out on the pitch, Luna and Hermione lounged entirely unathletically in the almost empty stands, grateful that the spring air had given way to the first hints of summer as they watched the play absentmindedly. Every now and again Luna would slip into 'commentary mode' to make Hermione laugh, an endeavour that was always successful. Hermione busied herself transfiguring flowers out of the blades of grass she had collected on the way over, fixing them haphazardly into Luna's hair. Hermione occasionally watched the mishmash group of students as they hurtled around, playing what seemed like a very casual game. She could spot Ginny easily, a trail of red hair behind her as she danced around with the Quaffle earning repeated shouts of 'foul' and 'not fair' which sounded very much like they came from Ron. Harry had a wide beam on his face; and it made Hermione's heart happy to see him like that, in truth, it was one of the only reasons she came to matches at all, though not without customary protest. Her friends never looked more like the children that they should have been than when they were in the air. Though Hermione fought hard to keep her eyes securely on their faces, whenever she looked down and processed what they were doing it made her feel sick.

After an hour or two of exhausting themselves, a few players fluttered to the ground, seeing that one was Viktor, Hermione stood from her seat, charming Luna's floral crown to stay in place and headed to the bottom of the stands. As much as Hermione would have liked to wait out a little while longer, she did need to get to the library, but she was determined not to go without speaking to Viktor first. Who knew when she would get a chance to talk to him again?

Viktor was hovering just above the ground on his broom, a small distance from the cluster of students. When he spotted her, he sped in her direction in a way that made Hermione's stomach flip, though whether from the potential for accidents or his presence she wasn't sure. When Viktor got to her side he dismounted the broom he was riding languidly, not dropping it to the floor as she had expected, but holding it to his side. At first, Hermione felt a little put out that he seemed intent on returning to the game so quickly but as he stood back his real intention became apparent, and it was so much worse. Viktor tilted his head towards the floating twig, a small smile forming on his lips and Hermione took a step back.

"Have go," he said lightly, his words in no way a question, though not a command either. It was like he could not have expected her to have anything other than a positive response.

"No," Hermione snapped and the severity of her tone shocked even her, when coupled with the vast step back she took her message was clear. Viktor's brow creased a little.

"Why?" he asked, thoroughly perplexed.

Hermione felt heat flood into her cheeks. "There are a lot of people here."

Viktor spun his neck around, looking back up at the students who were happily engaged in the continuing game. "They not paying attention to you."

"I… I'm not good at it," she admitted quietly, her arms coming up to wrap around herself defensively.

His head tilted to the side. "Hermione, do you only do things you good at?" his tone was teasing, but she bristled all the same.

"That's not what the problem is," she answered shortly.

Viktor brushed a hand through his short hair and took a step forward. "Harry said you are scared, I will make sure you safe," he protested, and Hermione shook her head.

"I don't want to," she said with finality and Viktor's expression softened, he nodded dropping his broom to the ground, and Hermione felt her shoulders sag in relief. A moment later she was pressed firmly against his warm chest, and Viktor's chin rested on top of her hair.

Her first instinct was to push him off her, but she knew that was childish. Instead, she released a few steady breaths until she felt herself calm down. "It makes me feel... out of control," she admitted against his jumper, the words were easier to share now she wasn't looking directly at him.

"Okay, but…"

"I don't like feeling out of control," she interjected, wanting to return to the castle and get as far away as possible from the conversation.

"Would like you to try," Viktor uttered softly, and Hermione stiffened. Why wouldn't he just drop it? Harry would have dropped it by now.

"I don't want to," she repeated, her ire rising.

"Understand," Viktor murmured brushing a curl behind her ear. "But saw you watching, you shut your eyes if we went fast or reached for the ball. Maybe if you try it, you won't be so worried."

"Or, I could carry on not liking it," she muttered petulantly.

Viktor sighed above her. "Then you will not watch me play?" he asked quietly, and Hermione sighed right back.

"I watch Harry all the time," she replied, her mouth was set into a firm line, the logic behind his words was seeping in, something she found wholly unwelcome. She wasn't used to being pushed on things, and she wasn't sure it was something she would like repeated. In any case, she needed time to cool off, to think.

"Not today," he said finally, before reaching down to grip her chin. "Don't be mad at me."

"I'm not mad," she said, totally unconvincingly, and he raised an eyebrow at her. "Fine, I was mad, now I'm just-"

"Grumpy," Viktor supplied, and Hermione pushed his arm causing him to laugh and grip her tighter.

For the first time in over a week, the prospect of the post was a much happier one for Hermione as she watched Harry open his Easter egg from Mrs Weasley with childlike abandon. It was at moments like this that she was reminded of how difficult his life had been before, or still was when he returned to the Dursleys. His face betrayed how many things he had been deprived of, as his eyes widened when they beheld the huge dark chocolate egg.

Hermione tore into her own package with glee. Growing up as the only child of two dentists had meant very few treats in her upbringing, and while she agreed, on the whole, with her parent's scriptures, she couldn't help but delight in the Weasley matriarch's more casual attitude to occasional indulgences.

The shiny red paper made a delightful crunch as Hermione ripped the last part open but when she did her broad smile fell away, replaced quickly with a confused frown. There, amongst the silver inside of the paper was an Easter egg no bigger than a snitch, one that looked like it may have been dropped on one side.

"You don't think…" Harry began, his head tilted to the side regarding the egg with a pinched expression.

Ginny grimaced, "I think my mum might still have that subscription to Witch Weekly."

Hermione wondered whether her internal emotional turmoil would be better served by stuffing the entire thing in her mouth, or in the bin.

-/-/-/-

From his own place in the hall, Viktor was equally distracted by the post. Amongst his usual notes, there was a large, thick envelope that landed next to his cup with a satisfying donk. He picked it up reverentially, unfurling the parchment contained within and running his fingers slowly over the embossed shield for Vastra Vultures on the top right corner as he felt a smile tug at his lips. They had accepted. Of course, the letter was only a formality, they had made an offer for him after all, but to hold the proof felt incredible. All the time that he had put in, all the sacrifices he had made, it was all entirely worth it.

He wanted to celebrate.

His eyes were drawn to Hermione, watching her as she held a small, battered, chocolate egg aloft. It seemed like an odd thing for her to have received as part of the usual deluge. He wanted to go over, but he wouldn't have time to talk properly before classes. It would have to be after dinner he resolved unhappily. He wanted to go flying, but it didn't seem like the best suggestion. Though they had been fine since their little argument on the pitch he had been shocked by the vehemence of Hermione's reaction, he understood there was a bit more to it than a fear of heights. He had only wanted her to hover over the ground with him for a short time; he wouldn't have even let go. His mind had screamed at him to drop it, but that wasn't exactly realistic. They weren't always going to agree, and if they were to continue this they wouldn't always be together, it was foolish to think they couldn't avoid any level of conflict indefinitely. Though Viktor was certain, he never wanted her to look at him like that again.

Viktor managed to chase down Hermione before she entered dinner, and he was pleased that their disagreement wasn't affecting her as she smiled at him and asked about his day. When he slipped the envelope he had been carrying around since breakfast into her fingers she raised her eyes curiously, but dutiful opened it, her face brightening when she saw what it contained. His face matched hers as Hermione waxed lyrical for a good five minutes about his wish being fulfilled. She reached forward and gripped his arm as she carried on and Viktor felt the warmth spread up from her touch. "What are you doing now?" she asked finally, handing the envelope back.

"Want to celebrate," Viktor declared, securing his fingers with hers to make it clear that was why he had sought her out.

"How? We could go down to the kitchens? I'm not sure they will help me, but I could get Luna…."

"You come running with me," he said, squeezing her hand.

Hermione stilled, "No... no," she replied, with a little shake of her head, but the intensity was nowhere near what she had for flying, so Viktor pressed on.

"That is what I want to do."

"That sounds... wonderful, but I have to… to study."

"No, you don't, you wanted to go to the kitchens."

Hermione sagged, "What is this sudden want for exercise?"

Viktor smirked as she gave up the pretence so quickly. "Exercise is distraction. You need distraction, I like it. Want to spend time with you, so we go running."

Hermione looked at him appraisingly for a moment, her eyes narrowing as she contemplated his face. "You want to go flying," she deduced, looking up at him a little sadly.

Viktor sighed, "Yes, but ground means you are there."

Hermione bit her lip and Viktor ran his thumb over her palm. "Yes," she said finally.

"Sure?"

Hermione nodded, but he wasn't convinced.

As much as Viktor may have wanted to celebrate as soon as possible, it was the next weekend before he was stood outside the main castle doors waiting for Hermione to join him for their run. It was a lot more comfortable in his Durmstrang training kit now that the cold air had all but dissipated and considering the early hour the grounds were relatively bright. Viktor didn't mind getting up early, and he knew from seeing her at breakfast often enough that Hermione herself was an early riser, though he did feel guilty for getting her out of bed at such an hour. Especially to do something she apparently took no pleasure in. Though not remorseful enough to change his plan. He had tracked courses around the grounds often enough during his time there to know that even a half an hour later and they would have no chance of getting around the loop he had planned for them unobserved.

Finally, the main door opened a crack, and Hermione slipped out, her eyes still a little sleep filled. She had pulled her wild hair back into a messy braid, and although Viktor knew it was practical he couldn't help feeling slightly short-changed, he loved her hair. Part of his desire to see her on a broom so much stemmed from wanting to know what it would look like as it flew through the air. She was wearing a Gryffindor house Quidditch jersey, and when he rose his eyes at the 'WEASLEY' printed on the back, she scoffed at him. "Ginny," she quipped.

"Did not say anything," he protested with his hands up in front of himself defensively.

Hermione rolled her eyes, as she stepped forward to take her place, stretching alongside him, he noticed her trousers, the likes of which he had never seen before. "What are those?" he asked pointing down at the black fabric that seemed painted onto her slim legs.

"Yoga pants," Hermione answered, bending over to touch her toes and Viktor couldn't help the muttered curse that fell from his lips.

"What are they for?" he asked in a slightly strangled tone, suddenly wishing that the air was much colder, possibly even Baltic.

"Well, Yoga" she answered dismissively before she seemed to wake up a little more and shook herself. "Sorry, I forget sometimes," she said with pink cheeks. "Yoga is a Muggle exercise that involves a lot of stretching; the material has a stretchy fabric so that it moves with the body."

Viktor wasn't able to formulate a response as Hermione moved into another unusual position, too busy ruminating on how often he had heard it said that Muggles had no sense of invention, based on the 'trousers' Hermione was currently sporting nothing had ever been further from the truth. It was no longer such a wonder there were so very many of them if this was what was considered as standard apparel.

"You show me?" he asked finally and Hermione straightened up to show him something she referred to as a beginners move called the 'sun salutation'.

"Yoga and Pilates are both exercise forms that are good for strength building; I'm not very good at cardio, but I can do these."

Despite his initial scepticism a couple of moves later Viktor was beginning to enjoy it, and not just that, he could feel the way the muscles in his back were being pulled out. He would have to revisit this, but after ten minutes of wobbling to the point of nearly toppling over he felt the need to redeem himself in Hermione's eyes and so, despite her adorable reluctance, they took off.

Viktor deliberately kept his pace slower, though not so slow that he would look like he was patronising her, he had seen enough of her narrowed eyes of late to know Hermione would not take kindly to that. As she began to lag behind, Viktor turned to offer her some soft encouragement, but the glare she fixed on him was enough to tell him to turn back around and mind his business.

As they turned past the lake, passed the spot in which he had seen her working all those months before, he hung back to run alongside her and took in her pink cheeks with a warm smile. "You happier than last time I asked you to do something?" he prodded gently, wanting to try and make light of their strained conversation before.

"I do prefer to do things while safely on the ground," Hermione responded tightly. "But I still hate this," she finished, and Viktor laughed, his chortles disrupted by a swift punch to his side.

"Don't laugh at me, it's not fair," Hermione panted, "I can barely breathe… let alone talk… I don't run, I can never go fast enough."

Viktor looked at Hermione properly and realised she was getting breathless; they were not even halfway, and he was likely to get another shove if he slowed his pace down again. After a moment of indecision, he swept close to her and in one seamless movement lifted Hermione over his shoulder. "What… Viktor? Put me down!" she screeched, and Viktor accelerated his pace.

"See you move fast!" he called as he ran.

"Viktor," she warned.

"Hermione," he answered teasingly and though she huffed she stopped wriggling, and he indulged in a smile he knew she couldn't see. "I like running, pace was too easy for me, pace was too hard for you, wanted to spend time together, solves all our problems."

He was sure he heard muffled laughter against the back of his shirt. "So," he ventured once he felt Hermione's resignation, "tell me about small ball in the post."

The events of the previous week had made most of the Gryffindors a good deal more anxious about the post, so when a package arrived - that required two large owls to carry it - was dropped in front of Hermione, the table was decidedly tense. Feeling a new resolve, or at least adequately faking it, Hermione reached forward and unwrapped the parchment, unveiling the biggest Easter egg she had ever seen. It must have been the same size as the average toddler and was weighed down by a thick layer of brightly coloured encrusted chocolates. She would have been totally dumbfounded, possibly would have even considered it an elaborate prank, if its arrival had not been followed by two more similar packages being placed in front of Ginny and Luna.

"Would have been bigger, but told my mother about your parents, she thinks this is concession."

Hermione swivelled on the bench to greet Viktor who was standing behind her, having just entered the hall. "Viktor it's almost the same size as me," she protested, rewrapping the egg that had fallen under Ron's lustful gaze.

"You are exaggerating," Viktor tutted with a warm smile before heading to his table.

Hermione looked back at the egg in wonder. "Not by that much."

While the stolen moments with Hermione hinted at a potential future after he left the castle, Viktor's mind never strayed far from the reason he was there in the first place. He had been in competitions since before he could remember and a fiercely combative spirit was part of who he was. He spent the hours outside of lessons studying and making lists for what was to come. Karkaroff, in stark contrast to his behaviour at the start of the year, barely checked up on him outside of sporadic pointed enquiries. The change was unsettling. At first, Viktor suspected the words himself and the headmaster had had on his choice of associations had caused the stilting of their discourse but the more he watched, the more it was clear that Karkaroff was withdrawing into himself. Viktor doubted that those from the other schools would notice, Igor wasn't exactly known for his verboseness. For the students of Durmstrang, however, it was evident something was wrong.

A month before the final task, Viktor received his next instruction, and alongside his silent headmaster, they made their way to the Quidditch pitch. The quiet duo walked up to Harry and Cedric, who was already present and in a state of obvious dismay, why quickly became evident as Dumbledore continued his explanation that the ground had been planted with hedges. Viktor's eyes scanned the newly formed pattern, noting the lack of symmetry or standard shape. A maze his brain supplied, but no, it was to be something more challenging than that.

"A labyrinth," Dumbledore declared, his eyes twinkling in the fading light. "The Triwizard Cup will be located at the very centre, those of you that have more points at this stage in the competition will have a time advantage. Once inside the thick walls, you will have to navigate your way past a series of obstacles."

Viktor began mentally amending the list he had on his bedside table as potential ideas for what they would be facing were discussed.

"There won't be anything… lethal… will there?" Potter asked, and Viktor turned to face him, noting the dark expressions of the other two champions.

"Harry…" Fleur faltered, "practice okay?" She said finally before disappearing off with the looming figure of Madame Maxime.

As the others began to disperse, Viktor's eyes tracked the path Karkaroff took as he walked back towards the ship. The headmaster hadn't given him so much as a by or leave and certainly hadn't seemed to notice that Viktor wasn't following him. As concern had been growing steadily over the last few weeks, his eyes darted around the emptying clearing and took his opportunity. "Potter," Viktor asked quietly, "can I speak to you for a moment?"

Ludo Bagman, who had been hanging around fidgeting looked on dismayed as Potter happily agreed, and Viktor steered the younger boy away from the sycophantic former player. Only once he was sure they were out of earshot did he risk saying more. "I need favour," he requested, and Potter looked up at him surprised.

"From me? It's not about the competition, is it? I mean…"

Viktor shook his head gravely, "It's about Hermione."

Harry straightened, showing some of the grit that Viktor had learned the young boy had within him. "What about her?"

"Keep Hermione away from Karkaroff."

"Why would you ask me to do that?"

Viktor was about to respond when a rustling sound caught their attention, as they turned towards the tree line of the Forbidden Forest, Mr Crouch from the British Ministry entered the clearing, mumbling animatedly to himself and repeatedly looking over his shoulder. The man looked a far cry from when Viktor had met him before. He had been almost obsessively neat when he had commanded they chose their dragons ahead of the first task, officious and a little cold. This man was dishevelled, confused and overwrought.

"Mr Crouch?" Potter asked, stepping forward and the man turned. His gait was laboured, his clothing worn, as he got closer, they could make out a few words, but they didn't make any sense.

The hairs on the back of Viktor's neck prickled, something was wrong, he didn't know what but he felt unsettled. "Potter," Viktor said, breaking the boy's gaze from the man in front of them, "go get someone."

The boy nodded his head slowly, and Viktor stepped towards Mr Crouch, encouraging him to sit down.

"It's… didn't believe it, it's my fault… told my wife I would, but he… remain unseen, don't move…. Now it's all… what will they think of me…"

His babbling continued, and Viktor pressed a hand on his shoulder, once again encouraging him to sit down. Something about that physical contact must have dragged Mr Crouch from wherever he had gone in his mind for as soon as Viktor's fingers connected with him, Mr Crouch grabbed the front of his robes and opened his mouth, his eyes widened as if in fear as he clutched desperately. But Viktor never got the chance to hear what he might have said, as he moved forward, poised to listen to whatever urgent thing Mr Crouch wanted to import he felt a whipping lash against his back. His mind had only just dimly registered that he had been cursed when his legs crumpled underneath him before he slipped into unconsciousness.