Viktor groaned as he returned to consciousness, and blinked as he attempted to move his sore frame. As he took his first tentative movements, he slowly became aware of the pressure on his back. How did I end up on the ground? The danger of his situation began to creep into his understanding, his arm darted for his wand but the sudden movement made the back of his head pound, and his hand automatically redirected to his throbbing scalp. Viktor moved his fingers over his hairline until he found a wet patch, the consistency of which he was sure was thicker than mere dew from the ground. He couldn't quite make out a clear image of his fingers as he held them in front of his eyes. Surely he wasn't holding six? But in spite of the blurring, he could make out the distinct spattering of red. He tried to move again, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Er… I'm not sure you should be getting up," a hesitant voice said.

"Potter?" Viktor queried groggily, and a quick affirmative was made.

"What happened?" Potter asked, and Viktor closed his eyes trying to order the scramble of thoughts. What had happened? He remembered Mr Crouch, his babbling incoherence, the sudden surety in his eyes and a crunching sound. He didn't have much to go on, and then… nothing.

"Was hit in back," he replied. It wasn't a problematic deduction to make; his body was aching, though that was probably more from the rough impact with the ground than the severity of curse. Viktor couldn't detect any other injuries, not yet anyway.

"I thought that might have happened," Potter responded lightly, and Viktor once again stretched for his wand. With Potter close and seemingly calm he felt safe enough to continue laying down, at least until his head stopped spinning, but he felt better once he was armed.

"What happened to Crouch?" Potter questioned, and Viktor tensed.

"Why?" he asked, and Potter exhaled roughly.

"He's not here; it was only you when we got back."

Potter's words floated over to Viktor as he tried to concentrate on getting up. The fact that the man was gone changed everything, there would be questions and Viktor would far prefer to be upright when he was giving a statement. The younger boy helped him as he got to his feet, not another word exchanged between them and in the quiet other noises began floating over, Viktor could make out the distant sound of an irate Karkaroff. When had he gotten back?

"This is beyond an insult Dumbledore, and I will not stand for it." His headmaster was seething, and the familiar tone automatically made Viktor straighten against the substantial protests of his body.

"... now, Igor, there is no proof that anything untoward happened to Viktor," Dumbledore's much more passive tones said in reply. "Until he wakes up we will not have the full picture. It may simply be a case of self-defence gone wrong..."

Viktor tuned out the rest of the words and took his arm away from around Potter, who had been supporting a little of his weight, somewhat successfully given their relative builds. They were a way off from the cluster of teachers, and they hadn't noticed his return to consciousness immediately.

"Ah, Mr Krum," Dumbledore said as he turned to regard him, "please, if you would be so kind, could you explain what happened here?"

"Dah…" Viktor began as his hand came up to connect with the back of his head, he looked over to his own headmaster, seeking permission to speak, but Dumbledore misread his hesitation.

"Now Mr Krum, we are all friends here, anything you may have… we understand there were extreme circumstances and we just want to get to the bottom of it."

Viktor regarded the old wizard almost blankly, his mind replaying Karkaroff's words from the start of the visit, how he had expected them to get hassle, to be labelled as dark wizards. He boxed up the feeling after a moment and falteringly relayed what he could, which wasn't much. He barely got through it before Professor Moody, the one the students called 'Mad-Eye', ambled forward and questioned him, doubt and accusation leaking from his tone. Viktor felt his fire rising, and made to take a step forward, only to have an arm collide with his chest and push him back. Karkaroff marched ahead in an impressive billow of robes till he was standing in front of the Defence teacher and Dumbledore, meeting their eyes disdainfully before spitting on the ground at their feet. When he looked back up his eyes were wild and his tone was venomous.

"Maybe people should start looking in your direction Albus, two Hogwarts Champions in the tournament and now my boy is attacked. What do you have in store for the little French girl hmm? Surely you won't be able to convince people that she is dark? No, you might have to work a little harder there."

As Viktor was stood still in shock from Karkaroff's speech a number of things happened at once, Dumbledore didn't reply but the gamekeeper, Hagrid, suddenly leapt forward, grabbed Karkaroff - who for the first time in Viktor's memory looked small - and smashed him against a nearby tree, holding him in a cruel grip around his throat. Viktor instinctively ran to his headmaster's defence, dimly aware that Potter was at his side just as Hagrid was commanded to drop him.

"Mr Krum," Dumbledore pressed, "perhaps you can..."

"Not a word," Karkaroff interrupted almost breathlessly, rubbing at the bruises already forming on his neck and glaring at the unrepentant gamekeeper. Viktor nodded.

"You will hear back from him in the morning, Dumbledore, when I will relay his information," Karkaroff decreed and straightened his robes.

"Igor, I really think you're over-reacting if we could just go to my office…."

"No," he interrupted fiercely still pointedly rubbing his neck before he turned towards the ship. "Come, Viktor."

Viktor turned to Potter, knowing his time was short and frankly not wanting to stay around much longer. "I am sure Hermione will have heard about this by morning, assure her that I am alright."

"Of course," Potter replied. "Are you though? Alright, I mean?"

Viktor knew he had a significant bump on the back of his head and he was feeling pretty nauseous. More than anything he just wanted to lie down in a warm bed. He knew from various Quidditch injuries obtained over the years that he should probably keep himself awake for a while, which was going to be a Herculean task given how heavy his eyelids already felt. "I am fine," he confirmed.

"Maybe you should go to the hospital wing?" Potter tried.

"I think I would prefer to be on the ship right now," Viktor replied honestly. The castle in the distance, that had looked so warm and inviting when they had first emerged all those months ago suddenly looked foreboding.

"Viktor!" he heard in the distance, and he shot a quick shrug to Potter before rushing to catch up with his headmaster.

Karkaroff muttered bad-temperedly the entire way back to the ship, things about Dumbledore, about England, about phoenixes and darkness and Viktor, Viktor kept quiet. Even the odd question that was spewed out amongst the rage-filled rhetoric was clearly not meant to be answered, he focused his gaze on the highly polished surface of his shoes and tried to keep up.

Karkaroff's anger was a relief in a way; it was the most animated he had seen the man in months. Though Viktor knew he would be less reassured if the vitriol peppering the darkening sky were directed at him.

When they were finally back inside the safe confines of the ship, Viktor followed in silence as the headmaster stomped towards his study. Viktor expected to be dismissed but instead, Karkaroff shepherded him inside, indicating he should sit on the chair facing his desk before standing over him, looking at the back of his head and muttering a few charms.

Viktor again expected to be dismissed after the perfunctory healing, but again he wasn't. Karkaroff made his way around the office and poured two generous measures of firewhisky pushing one over the desk in front of him. Viktor eyed the glass hesitantly, firstly because of the headmaster's bizarre mood, and secondly, as he wasn't sure hard alcohol was the best thing after blacking out, he was certain his mother would disapprove.

"One won't kill you," Karkaroff bit out, though he didn't sound mad anymore. The headmaster drained his glass in one gulp and stretched over to refill it. "I could do without drinking alone."

Viktor dutifully picked up his drink but he only sipped at the harsh liquid, having been in training as long as he had, he had never built up much of a liking for the acquired taste, or any tolerance for the heady contents. Fearing a refill that Karkaroff seemed to be doling out to himself with gusto, Viktor held the glass in his fingers, off the table, satisfied to nurse it until he was dismissed.

"What happened tonight, will happen again, and again, and again," Karkaroff said, sounding older than he ever had before. "You will be assessed based on where you come from, who your family and friends are, where you went to school, the list will go on and on."

Unlike the walk back, when he had known to hold his tongue, Viktor was now unsure of his expected role in the conversation, so he sat back and watched the headmaster as he ran a hand over his face.

"One day you will have to make a choice… when I was your age… well, a lot of things happened… but ultimately I chose to spite them."

"Them?" Viktor asked tentatively, and a wicked gleam sparked in Karkaroff's eyes.

"Them, all of them," he all but spat. "All of those sanctimonious bastards that pretend to the world that they are good, that they are better, that they are beyond reproach, when all they really are is a group of judgemental hypocrites that have no interest in those they deem beneath their notice."

Viktor brought the glass to his lips again and took a slightly larger sip, bolstering himself. "Was it the right… decision?"

Karkaroff's head whipped around to look at him, not enraged, almost as if he had forgotten Viktor was in the room. His head lowered and he ripped a piece of parchment that was amongst the strewn chaos of his desk.

"No," he answered finally, his voice sure but quiet.

Viktor nodded, tensing his fingers against the arm of the chair before he braved looking up again. "When did you know? That it was the wrong choice?"

Unexpectedly, Karkaroff laughed, the sound hollow and reedy. "Immediately," he said, drawing the word out languidly. "That's the thing about him you see. He draws you in, pulls you from wherever you are and throws you onto his chessboard. You throw yourself at his feet in turn, ready to be sacrificed, willing to sacrifice anyone to please him, and his first act as the keeper of your soul is to show you how foolish you were ever to believe him."

"But you didn't have a choice," Viktor tried, unsure whether or not defending Karkaroff to himself was the right thing to do.

Karkaroff lifted the bottle again and appeared to hesitate for a moment as if he was contemplating drinking straight from it before he shook himself and hastily poured more into his glass.

"We all have choices Viktor, though admittedly some of us have fewer doors open than most. I was no unwilling lamb brought before the slaughter, though this time…" Karkaroff tailed off, and Viktor observed him carefully, he seemed to have drifted away.

It wasn't long after that the headmaster dismissed him, laying a hand on his shoulder before sending him on his way. Viktor had no idea how he would sleep, or however long it had been since Karkaroff had gone through the night without the aid of more booze than was good for him.

The next morning in a hushed conversation in their dorm, Viktor gave a concise retelling of the events from the night before. What he had planned as a debrief session on the next task quickly became even more severe as Viktor regarded a worried looking Filip and an increasingly silent Mikhail. "What now?" Filip asked tensely, leaning back against his headboard.

"I spoke to Karkaroff, he is going to give my statement to Dumbledore," he explained. Once he had finally gotten back to his room that night, Viktor had hastily written out everything he could remember.

"You don't have to do it?" Mikhail asked softly, one of the first things he had said for half an hour.

"He has forbidden it," Viktor clarified, and the others nodded.

"I expect Karkaroff is going to restrict our access to the school for a while," Mikhail mused.

Viktor supposed that was correct, he could hardly blame Karkaroff for such an action, and neither did he want to. After being stunned, knocked to the ground and interrogated as to his involvement he was in no rush to be under the gaze of the authority figures in the castle either. Karkaroff was unravelling, of that Viktor was certain, but he could trust the headmaster to look after their interests, if not anyone else's.

"What about Hermione?" Filip asked suddenly, and Viktor allowed himself a small smile.

"I asked Potter to talk to her, she will understand."

As they began to get dressed Viktor was determined to lift some of the sombreness in the room, he shot a knowing look at Filip before turning to Mikhail. "I suppose the access to the school won't cause you any issues?"

Mikhail snorted, "Of course not. I have all the books I need here, and it is not as if any of the teachers at Hogwarts are particularly renowned for their academic prowess. I am sure I will not even notice."

"Sure, sure," Viktor agreed. "So, what about you and Luna?"

Mikhail fiddled with the buttons on his already done up tunic averting his eyes. "She is far too young. But she is an interesting girl, and I find her company... pleasing."

Filip rolled his eyes. "Really, that's all you've got? Pleasing?"

"I don't want to talk about it," he bit out, an aggressive display that would have been relatively intimidating had it not been for the pink that filled his cheeks when Filip began making kissy noises.

Viktor was surprised to see Karkaroff the next day, considering the amount of whisky the man had put away only hours before. He had planned on tucking the parchment he had prepared under his study door and taking it up with him tomorrow. As it was, before breakfast they were all called into the hall. Tables had been set up in horizontal rows, and the headmaster swiftly informed them that they were confined to the boat and the immediate grounds around the lake, but purely for fresh air and exercise. Under no circumstances were they to go anywhere near the castle, or converse with anyone in it. Meals were to be taken on the ship as well as classes. There was no time limit on the restrictions and Viktor was sure in that moment the headmaster intended them to go on indefinitely.

Hermione had been stunned when she learned about what happened to Viktor, and even more perturbed as he had asked Harry to mention it to her, which made her believe, rightly as it turned out, that he hadn't expected to be able to tell her himself. True, their life at Hogwarts had been far from idyllic, but it had seemed simpler before than it did now. Hermione began to feel that all these little strands, everything that had happened since Harry's name had been plucked from the goblet of fire, seemed more and more likely to converge somehow. She was frightened. This year, she was no longer filled with the arrogance they'd had when they were small, the self-assurance that they could fix everything, this wasn't going to be a stone set behind some obstacles, or a beast accidentally released. This was something darker, something was coming.

No official word was given as to why the Durmstrang boys were suddenly missing, Dumbledore had failed to acknowledge their absence despite addressing the whole school over breakfast twice that week. But, notwithstanding the headmaster's silence, Hermione, and most of the other students were more than capable of connecting the dots. When they had finally gotten a quiet moment, Harry had eventually gone into more detail about what had happened that night, beyond the attack. His garbled version of Dumbledore's words had pinched the back of her mind for some time. While her friend hadn't believed there was anything to worry about, too focused on potential Death Eaters on the staff and Karkaroff's threatening behaviour, Hermione thought differently. Assumptions had been made about Viktor, assumptions she felt compelled to insist she did not share. As it was, she didn't have the opportunity to speak to him further, not while Durmstrang were holed up on their ship. She wished she could reassure him in some small way but with no real options available to do so her mind, for the meantime at least, moved to other things.

As was becoming typical for her terms at Hogwarts, there was certainly no shortage of concerns to be getting on with. Harry, having seen the maze, gave them some indication of what he might be up against but the lack of specifics meant that the study material Hermione had to research was vast. As such countless hours were spent compiling lists from just about every section of the library. He would be expected to face creatures as well as spells and any number of different obstacles; they enlisted the help of Neville to help isolate possibilities when Harry mused that the hedges themselves might provide some difficulties.

And on top of that relative mountain, a conversation with Luna over breakfast found Hermione in a situation where a mystery was on its way to being answered. It was only a casual remark that had set her off on what she thought could have been the right trail. Luna had seen Draco under a tree, looking as if he was talking to himself, and she went off on a tangent about some creature or other that her dad had told her about until she eventually went back to Draco. Luna explained how she had seen a small bug resting on his knee. To a girl like Luna, talking to an insect was nothing to be alarmed about, but to Hermione, it was the catalyst she needed for the incomplete puzzle in her brain to become comprehensible.

When she pressed Luna for more details her friend mentioned the beetles lurid green colour and strange markings. A memory came to the front of Hermione's mind, one that she thought of often, her across Viktor's lap, feeling warm for the first time that day as the sun began to set in the distance, only now her eyes honed in on his fingers as they gently moved through her matted hair, to the insect he retrieved, bright with markings around its face… almost like… almost like glasses.

"Luna?" Hermione asked, a smile beginning to form on her face. Luna raised her eyebrows, her mouth full of toast. "Do you have anything planned today?"

Luna shook her head. "No, nothing today, why?"

"How would you like to go bug hunting?" Hermione replied sweetly and at Luna's bemused expression she laughed. "I'll explain on the way."

Any mirth she had been feeling quickly dissipated as Hermione took in the magnitude of what they were attempting to do, the Hogwarts grounds were vast, and the insect was, from memory, utterly tiny, distinctive or not it would not be easy to track it down. She considered trying to trick the Slytherins into giving up her location but quickly shot down that idea; they would be onto her in seconds.

So, with no greater plan, they decided to tackle a few of the places around the school that students often disappeared off to, reasoning that if you thought you could get away with a few illicit kisses in those locations, it was probably the place they would have suggested to meet up with a reporter.

That was how the girls found themselves on their hands and knees, searching around in the overturned ground at the back of the greenhouses.

"Granger?" a startled voice called, and Hermione dropped her head, looking between her legs at the upside down, bemused face of the other Hogwarts Champion.

"Hi Cedric," she called cheerfully, before resuming her search, running her fingers through the trampled blades of grass.

"Really? 'Hi', that's your response to being found doing… whatever it is you're doing," he responded indignantly, and Hermione looked up at him.

"What were you expecting?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

"What is it you're doing?"

Luna piped up, "We are hunting out a new species, it's pretty elusive -"

"What she said," Hermione interrupted before Luna could say too much, and as Cedric didn't seem to be going anywhere, she got to her feet. "What can I do for you, Mr Diggory?"

"Well, I heard about Viktor," he said as Hermione righted herself, rubbing the dirt off her knees. "Terrible stuff, if you see him, tell him I hope he's alright."

Hermione was once again struck by how well the sorting hat had done with Cedric, for all of his teasing and bravado she was sure there wasn't a nicer person on the Hogwarts grounds than the boy in front of her. "I will do," Hermione assured with a small smile.

"Also I saw the transfer list, I can't believe he's going to Vstra, next season is going to be so awesome!" Cedric enthused. "But don't tell him I said that bit," he said with a slight flush, and she laughed. "Anyway, I better get back to the books."

"Good luck Cedric," she called out to his retreating form.

He turned around and continued walking backwards. "I don't need luck Granger," he replied mockingly, "heroes wear yellow, didn't you know?" Hermione smiled in spite of herself, and he grinned at her minor concession. "Oh, and you've got dirt on your face," he finished with a wink and then turned around speeding off back to the castle.

"You know, I begin to see why half the school is completely in love with him," Luna, who had suddenly appeared next to her, said thoughtfully.

"Never mention that in his hearing," Hermione warned.

"But you agree?"

Hermione sighed. "Against all of my better judgement I do."

"Shame you've got such a persistent Bulgarian attached to you then," Luna baited.

"I wouldn't go that far," Hermione replied tartly, and both girls laughed before giving up for the day and heading inside themselves, hopeful that they could coax the elves out of some fresh lemonade.

Viktor walked through the grounds quickly, reaching the shadow of the castle and entering without pause. Karkaroff's staunch position had eventually relented, too many boys in too little a space were leading to arguments, and with the task looming, he needed to head the library. There were resources on the boat but not enough to cover what he needed, and he didn't want there to be an advantage he wasn't utilising, he was already behind on points.

When he made it into the familiar space, he moved on autopilot, walking amongst the tall stacks collecting from his mental list before settling himself at a table at the very back, their table. It had been such a long time since they had been there, together. Viktor thought he had known and understood all of the barriers when he first started pursuing Hermione. She was young, and though age wasn't that much of an issue, especially in their world, she was still at school, and that made the distance between them a more significant problem than it would have been otherwise. He thought they could overcome that, they both had feelings for each other, had admitted as much, they were both keen to continue after the competition, wherever that might lead.

Then he had spent that night in Karkaroff's office, listened as the headmaster went from melancholic and remorseful to incoherent and fearful. Viktor couldn't quite put his finger on it, but everything seemed a less simple that it had before that, and he didn't know how to turn back the clock.

The time went quickly as he buried himself in the books, so much so that he was startled when a hand came to rest on his shoulder almost an hour later. Viktor looked up to find the very welcome sight of Hermione, smiling sheepishly at him. "Hi," she said with a little wave, and he got up to pull a chair out for her. Before she sat down, she surprised him by stretching up onto her toes and laying a gentle kiss on his lips, dropping back down into the seat he had offered before he had a chance to react.

"How did you know I was here?" he asked dumbly.

"A little bird told me," she answered sweetly, rummaging in her bag for parchment.

"I do not understand expression," he confessed, resuming his own seat.

"It means that I was informed, but I wish to keep the identity of the informant a secret," she said primly, and Viktor's eyes crinkled as he watched her attempt at a resolved expression. He leant closer, one arm draped over the back of her chair and the other coming to rest on the table in front of her. Hermione's eyes drifted over them, registering that she was now blocked in, but she didn't back away.

"Was bird of Bulgarian descent?" he asked softly as he shifted forward again, he was now so close that his breath ghosted across her cheek. Hermione made a small sound, but it wasn't an answer. "Hermione?" he pressed.

"Now that you mention it," she replied in a breathy voice, "the bird was vaguely Filip-shaped."

Viktor smiled before dropping his lips to her face and peppering a series of small kisses from the apple of her cheek down to her jaw. Hermione's fingers came to rest on his chest, stuck there rigidly for a moment before she moved them up his neck and into the back of his hair. Viktor pulled back when he realised what she was doing, groaning slightly as her delicate fingers gently traced around the shallow cut that was still in the back of his head. At least the bump had gone. He leant into her touch, looking up at her slightly pensive face.

"About what Dumbledore said," she began falteringly, "you shouldn't listen you know. I know that Karkaroff, well, he might be a dark wizard, but it doesn't mean you are."

"Hermione," he sighed, "it is complicated."

"What is?" she asked leaning back and withdrawing her fingers from their careful exploration.

"It is association, suspicion that we are under is down to Karkaroff. When Crouch arrived I… I told Potter to keep you away from him. But… he is my headmaster; he defended me. He has looked after me since I was eleven."

Hermione's eyes regarded him carefully. "I understand," she said finally.

"Do you?" he asked incredulously, and Hermione sagged into her seat.

"Not really, but I'm trying to, it's hard for me to understand how someone like you can respect someone like him."

Viktor nodded, it was as much as he was going to get for now and he could hardly blame Hermione for her feelings or her suspicion, her assessment was just in both cases. Viktor, however, was struggling to separate the man and his deeds from the headmaster who had defended him when he needed it. For better or worse, Igor Karkaroff had had a hand in shaping the man that Viktor had become, while that didn't mean he forgave him everything, it did make him loyal, at least in part.

Hermione, thankfully, did not press too hard and they worked together side by side for a while before he became aware of her fidgeting next to him. "Viktor," she said at last, and he put down his quill to give her his full attention. "I'm worried about the final task, all these things keep happening, and there are all these little things that I can't put my finger on. I feel like something is going to happen."

Viktor reached forward to take her small hand in his. "Hermione, it will be alright."

He placed a kiss on her cheek and then moved his hands to cradle her face and kissed her lips, mashing his over hers until they were both breathless. In between revelling in the soft feel or her warm, pliant mouth, Viktor worried about how easily he had lied to her. But what was he supposed to say? I'm worried too; I want you as far away from here as possible. I'm concerned I won't be able to protect you? In the end, he didn't say anything; he could not burden her with any more questions he couldn't provide the answers for. He simply kissed her and prayed that they were both wrong.

A/N: Thank you for your reviews and adding to lists :) Third task coming up next, and Mr & Mrs Krum drop in!