Hermione woke on her first full day in Bulgaria well rested and happy. As promisingly bright sunlight peeked in through the gap in the heavy curtains, she allowed herself to linger under the covers for longer than she typically would, quietly remembering the day before.

In detail.

After discovering what he had been doing for Harry, Viktor had taken Hermione outside and soon let Milenka off the lead so they could follow on behind at a more comfortable pace. They had held hands as they chatted about all that had happened since Viktor had said goodbye in front of Hogwarts main doors and despite all of it having been discussed before, in their many letters, neither seemed to mind the repetition. Hermione had especially enjoyed all of Viktor's news about training as she could see the light in his eyes and hear the inflexion in his voice - that before she had only been able to imagine - when he talked about being amongst his beloved team. The reality was so much better than Hermione could have supposed it to be. Viktor, free from school to take up his chosen profession, was becoming surer of himself, he was more at ease than Hermione had ever seen him during his time in England.

Milenka had apparently given the pair up as a lost cause and let herself back into the house and collapsed into her basket by the time they had returned, and not long after they parted ways at the top of the grand staircase. Viktor had pushed Hermione off towards her bedroom with a soft kiss to her cheek that she had felt all the way down to her toes. Hermione had turned around when she reached her door, and Viktor had still been standing there at the end of the corridor, waiting for her to turn in before he left, like she had known he would be. When Hermione had finally closed the door, she had wondered why so many novels seemed to paint reliability as such a negative trait in would be romantic heroes, for herself there was nothing more appealing.

Hermione gently rolled on to back in the large bed. The room she would have during her stay was a beautiful rose colour, a pink that not even Hermione could find fault with, and all of the units and doors were accented with copper. It was opulent, comfortable and lush, without being over the top, and Hermione found she liked it immensely. She supposed that if you came to a place ready to be pleased by everything you saw, it was likely that you would be so, however, in this case, she would have found it difficult to find fault even if that had been her purpose.

Hermione's breathing slowed, and the room fell to near silence. It was strange to wake up alone and not to hear distant sounds of life as other occupants went about their business. Though the peace was lovely, after a few weeks of sharing a room, it was a touch lonely to be by herself with no one to share her thoughts with.

For a few moments, Hermione dared to imagine what it might be like to roll over and find Viktor laying, relaxed in sleep, on the other pillow. Unlike most boys she knew that were around their age, Viktor was incredibly well put together - both a product of his fastidious schooling and rigorous training - his clothes, hair, shoes, everything was always neat. Hermione wondered if that started the moment he opened his eyes or whether Viktor blinked awake delightfully ruffled. Did he lay on his back or on his side? Would he face in or out? Would that change if she were there? What side did he prefer? What did he wear to bed? Was he as warm as she imagined?

Hermione turned and allowed her right hand to reach under the covers to the other side of the bed, towards her imaginary sleep partner. Even knowing no one was there her hand quickly snapped back, embarrassed by her actions though she knew no one could see her.

There was no not thinking about Viktor though, in a bed inside his family home, where she had been welcomed with both figurative and literally open arms.

He was everywhere.

Hermione had noticed - when she finally made a proper inspection of the room late the previous evening - that far from the art she'd expected to find, the room was littered with intimate family photos, some of Viktor when he was little more than a baby though most were of him in more recent years. From the limited interactions they'd had, Hermione hadn't got the impression that the Krum's were the type of parents that bragged about their son, no matter his amazing accomplishments, so she strongly suspected Sofiya had added these additions, to what was clearly a guest bedroom, ahead of her arrival. Hermione smiled to herself at his mother's obvious pride as well as her attempt to grease the wheel of their courtship, as if such a thing were needed.

Any more thoughts, embarrassing in nature or otherwise were cut short as a knock sounded at her bedroom door, and Hermione pushed herself out from under her plush covers. Padding over in bare feet she found Luna in the corridor, fully dressed with her hair up in some elegant yet confusing twist and a camera around her neck.

For a brief moment, Hermione was disappointed that it wasn't Viktor coming to say good morning, something that must have read on her face as Luna absentmindedly petted her shoulder before walking into Hermione's bedroom and throwing herself back onto the bed.

"He's not here," she said dreamily, as she attempted to make a duvet angel whilst staring at the ceiling.

"I can see that," Hermione replied as she closed the door and started pulling items out of her trunk. She really should have unpacked her clothes when they arrived, but she hadn't been bothered to, and she knew somewhere her mother's hands were itching without the woman having a clue as to why.

Luna grinned, "I meant in the house, not in this room." In response to Hermione's enquiring glance, Luna passed over a small piece of paper. "There was a note pinned to your door." Hermione took it eagerly before opening the windows to make a better guess at what to wear.

"He has neat handwriting, with medium size letters and no visible slant which I am sure you find as conclusive as I do."

Hermione pulled a top over her head and muttered her agreement without really listening. She was too eager to read the note to concentrate on Luna's theories. It didn't take long to digest, just a few short lines in which Viktor managed to apologise, twice, for his unavoidable, early training session. He explained where breakfast would be served and that they could wait for him in his mother's sitting room when they were finished, though Sofiya herself would be out visiting a friend all day.

After reading the note through one last time, Hermione checked that Luna was still occupied with messing up her bed and then added the note to the stack of letters in the bottom of her trunk. Not that keeping or even bringing the correspondence was anything to be ashamed of, however, Hermione was a little sensitive about the bright pink ribbon decorated with silver hearts that she had purchased on a whim and wrapped around the bundle, and she would rather have kept it to herself.

The girls found the bright, inviting breakfast room with the help of the only sarcastic house elf Hermione had ever met and took places next to each other at the oak dining table where they heartily filled their plates. Luna was trying to talk Hermione into splitting another muffin with her when Grigor Krum's broad form appeared at the doorway. Greetings were exchanged, and if they were more sedate than his wife's had been the previous day, happily they were no less earnest.

Hermione tried to sit still and smile calmly but it was an effort, while she knew Grigor was warmer than his stern appearance suggested, she still had to fight the urge to stand up next to her chair and offer a curtsy or possibly even a salute, there was just something about Viktor's dad that commanded respect. He carried himself in a way Hermione imagined a military general would.

As Grigor sat down, Luna swiped another lemon and poppy seed muffin and placed half of it on Hermione's plate, knowing that she wouldn't argue about it now, and so Hermione relented, herself knowing that she would regret stuffing herself later.

Grigor asked after their parents and their journey and all the usual things polite conversation dictated before he got to questions he was evidently more keen on asking.

"So, Miss Granger, Miss Lovegood, how are things at home? I would imagine that England is a little…. different after events at the end of your last term."

Hermione nodded, life at home was very different, as Grigor had put it, and only likely to become more so, but she was unsure of how much she should say, and how much she was even able to say. The Order of the Phoenix was not so secret an organisation that its name could not be mentioned, but Hermione imagined its members and doings were to be held in the strictest confidence, which made her wonder again why so many students were allowed to run around Grimmauld Place without induction proceedings or specific rules. They might not have told the young magicals living in the house what they were up to, but it wasn't hard to make educated guesses once you knew who was involved.

Grigor placed several pieces of newly appeared toast on his plate and had begun to lather them with jam when he pressed further. "What of the threat of the Death Eaters?" he asked, his voice dripping with scorn as he mentioned their name. "I gather they are still calling themselves that this time around. Have they begun to make demands of the populace?"

"No," Hermione replied, pushing the last crumbs of her own food away. "At the moment we believe they are trying to keep their dealings, and even their existence, out of the public eye."

Grigor seemed to contemplate her answer before pouring himself a large cup of coffee and finally nodding. "I had suspected as much. They are best served by operating in the shadows while they can still do so."

Hermione and Luna remained silent; for herself, Hermione felt she had little to add to the conversation. The Art of War had never been a particular strong suit of hers.

"I apologise if I am making you uncomfortable," Grigor said, "but I had wondered if there was more going on than had been reported in the papers."

"They haven't yet monopolised the press," Luna said, sitting up straighter in her seat. "But they will."

"Indeed," Grigor answered gravely, "I believe you are correct. It does not matter how often these things happen, they always seem to follow the same lines, and yet people still act surprised at the outcome."

"Has it been so many times?" Hermione asked, she knew conflicts had gone before, mainly from her History of Magic class, but most of those they had studied had been ancient battles.

Grigor nodded. "Where there is power or at least the perception of it, there will always be greed and corruption. Over the years measures have been put in place to try and make men care for each other, but they will always be circumvented by people who want more."

The disdain in Mr Krum's voice had brought a chill to the room that had driven away all of the cheer that had been present only ten minutes before.

"In Europe, most of the old magical families still take their responsibilities seriously. In the middle ages if you owned land you automatically became responsible for the people that lived upon it, those that were reliant on it for their food and survival, their concerns became your concerns. It was a system that largely worked and was very much the forerunner to local government and that model has continued in some form or other until this day. Some people may not like the way things are done, but it does not give them an excuse to go scampering about their homeland, doing whatever they please while being too cowardly to show their faces."

As Hermione chewed on the side of her lip, several elves appeared to pack away the used breakfast things cheerfully, and the oppressive atmosphere in the room happily faded when faced with their exuberance.

"My apologies ladies, this… situation is not something I should talk of over the breakfast table; it brings forward memories from my childhood that I would rather forget."

As Grigor made a concerted effort to lighten his countenance, and engage Luna in conversation about her father's paper, Hermione was left to quietly imagine how wonderful it would be to contrive a meeting between Mr Krum and Lucius Malfoy. She was convinced that they would hate each other on sight… and what a glorious sight it would be for everyone else to watch how it would all play out.

After Luna finished telling them about the current plans to expand The Quibbler's distribution network, Grigor drained his cup and rose from the table. "Please excuse me, I have meetings for the rest of the day, please make use of Sofiya's sitting room when you are done. I understand Viktor will be back in a few hours."

Hermione said her goodbyes and watched Grigor's retreating form all the while wondering if Viktor would become more like his father as he grew up. At present he was such a complete blend of his parents it was hard to imagine him becoming more austere and commanding, but he was still very young, so anything was possible.

Luna leant over the nearest arm of Hermione's chair and followed her gaze. "Impressive as Mr Krum undoubtedly is, I believe Sofiya would be the one to watch in a fight."

Hermione tidied the crumbs from around her plate as she considered. "I think I agree with you; mothers usually are the most dangerous, when properly provoked. But Grigor isn't one I'd want to cross either."

"No," Luna agreed with a quirk of her head, "but he would probably make it quick."

Hermione shrugged, "It's a sound theory, but I wouldn't imagine we will ever know conclusively."

"You don't think so?" Luna asked before looking at her for a long moment. "Hermione, your role in this war has been fated since you met Harry on the train in the first year, and if you and Viktor carry on as you are, do you really think he's going to stay in a manor thousands of miles away and just wait to hear how it all turned out?"

Hermione suddenly wished the elves had left the last of the muffins, just so she could toy with something between her fingers, to absorb her nervous fidgeting. "To be honest, I had been trying not to think about it."

"I think you might be out of time there."

In Sofiya's sitting room the girls took up the seats they had used the day before and Luna soon dived into a stack of magazines that were conveniently placed in a small basket by the side of the sofa and began pouring through - to assess the competition, or so she said - while Hermione pondered on her relative sense of ease. She wasn't as nervous as she had been before they had come, a portion of the unknown had been removed, and it was enough to give some breathing room. Hermione's previously incapacitating anxiety had been replaced with bubbles of anticipation that she was finding much easier to cope with.

As they idly discussed what the plan might be for the day, Luna looked up from her stack, stood and pressed a magazine into Hermione's waiting fingers, a magazine with Viktor's oh so familiar face staring out at her from the cover.

With the limited Bulgarian she had so far mastered, Hermione could tell it wasn't a Quidditch or even a broader sports publication, it looked to be more lifestyle in orientation and that, she supposed, was the reason for Viktor being dressed in a shirt that was open at the collar and rolled up to his elbows. The possessive part of Hermione - a part of herself she tried to deny even existed - wanted to reach into the page and pull the crisp linen sleeves back down over his arms and button up to the top of his collar. The reaction was so strong and so instant she had to laugh at herself. After all, it was far from the first time that Hermione had seen Viktor on a glossy magazine cover - the boys in Gryffindor tower had an impressive collection of 'Krum paraphernalia' - but in those she had seen previously, he had been depicted in some variant of his professional kit. That was the side of himself that he was used to trading in, so much so that Hermione barely even noticed pictures of him like that, this was entirely different.

Viktor looked older in his 'normal clothes', more worldly too, Hermione thought he looked more desirable but she was hardly an objective audience, she had long found him attractive. However, not for the first time, she found herself thinking about how other women would view him when they saw it. She shelved the thoughts almost immediately - there was nothing to be gained from wondering anywhere in that direction.

Hermione looked down at the glossy, public version of Viktor and he stared right back, for several seconds their eyes locked before the image version of him stuffed his hands in his pockets and awkwardly looked away. Hermione smiled at the burgeoning muscles she could see in his forearms as his hands tensed, though she mainly managed to cover her reaction with her hand. Just like his real-life counterpart, she had no intention of making 'cover star Viktor' uncomfortable.

Hermione made a bit of a show of looking at the headings down on the bottom of the page while surreptitiously looking up at the photo Viktor under her lashes.

The set of his shoulders looked less defensive than Hermione had observed in any of his pictures from the world cup, and if she looked hard enough she could see something in his eyes that hinted at how happy he was to be gaining his new position, but there was still an awkwardness there.

Hermione debated opening the magazine. The cover promised that the enclosed exclusive interview was extensive, but still, her hands didn't move. She realised it would feel like cheating. Why try and learn something from an article written for public consumption when she could ask questions and hear answers meant just for her? She wasn't even particularly drawn by the guarantee of more pictures. Hermione supposed they weren't as tempting when the real thing would be coming back any moment to take you, and one of your best friends he was hosting, out for the day.

Finally, Hermione put the magazine down on the seat next to her and listened as Luna read out excerpts from her growing pile, feeling quite pleased with herself for her uncharacteristic restraint.

This time when Viktor returned from training, he felt less like he should rush. Hermione had taken his absence in her stride the day before, showing every bit of compassion and understanding he had known she was capable of, and more besides. Viktor knew it was no good to be continually apologising for things that were not in his power. Leaving the pitch and dressing room at a reasonable speed gave him time to luxuriate in the knowledge that she would be there when he got home, waiting for him.

Viktor had managed to concentrate better during his training session, or at least there was an improvement on the day before. While he doggedly stalked the practice Snitch with determination, he hadn't been able to help flexing his left hand every so often, it was as if he could still feel Hermione's fingers, gently pressed against his. Incredibly the memory was more efficient than any warming charm he had ever employed for an early morning practice, so he allowed himself the momentary lapse in concentration every ten minutes or so.

Viktor had also managed to get away with slightly less ribbing than he had endured the day before, and substantially less bruising, though a few of the more verbal players hadn't been able to resist an opportunity to blow kisses at him as he threw his bag over his shoulder and left the grounds.

When Viktor got back to the comfort of his family home Hermione and Luna were in his mother's sitting room, just as they had been the day before. They had been just as easy to find, and Viktor felt a special joy in following the sound of Hermione's delighted laugh as he walked closer to them down the corridor.

This time he didn't wait at the door, he was too eager to get going with the day he had planned for them. He was even more keen to do his best to show Bulgaria in its best possible light. Filip had flippantly referred to it as the 'all this could be yours' portion of Hermione's stay, and, as much as Viktor had reprimanded his friend, the phrase had gotten stuck in his head.

"Good morning ladies, I hope you both slept well," Viktor said, announcing himself as he walked in and received enthusiastic greetings from both of the young women sat before him.

Hermione smiled widely and made some pretty comments about the room his mother had arranged for her and Viktor was content to bask in her attention for a few moments until he saw a miniature version of himself, clad in a shirt worth a days salary, looking up at him from a sofa cushion next to Hermione.

"I wish you hadn't seen that," he said quietly, though he resisted the urge to either turn the magazine over or hide it back in the large pile Luna had stacked in front of her.

"Why?" Hermione inquired, apparently puzzled. She glanced down at the cover as if it would reveal a secret before looking back up at him quizzically.

"It is embarrassing," Viktor admitted. Desperately, he tried to remember anything that he had said in the interview, but he was drawing a blank. He could remember the constant, irritating and surprising loud flash of several cameras as well as an over exuberant wardrobe lady that managed to unbutton more of his shirt every time she sashayed past, but nothing else. He was sure there were at least one or two awful quotes in there, there always were. When Hermione made it clear that she hadn't strayed further than the cover he felt somewhat relieved.

"I have not done a proper photo shoot before," Viktor said, looking down at the image of himself once more before focusing on Hermione. "It was soon after I was back from England, and the news broke that I was joining Vratsa."

"How was it?" Hermione asked as Luna leant forward to get a look at the cover for herself. The blonde's expression was, as usual, completely indecipherable.

"Horrible," he acknowledged with a put upon smile he imagined was more of a grimace, and Hermione laughed.

"You like you're enjoying it, just a little bit," she cheekily replied, lifting the magazine and waving it in front of him. Viktor playfully narrowed his eyes.

"My mother requested I make an effort not to scowl; she wanted to keep the pictures."

Hermione's smile widened, and Viktor's breathe caught. "And you did what she said? Who knew you could be so adorable?"

Viktor took a step forward and dropped his voice, though his teasing tone remained. "I would have hoped you would know, Hermione."

She blushed, and Viktor was ready to push his triumph, but Luna began to aggressively clear her throat, breaking his boring stare into Hermione's eyes.

"Are we heading off?" She asked conversationally. "Only, I'm not sure I can convincingly pretend I'm tired at 11 o'clock in the morning."

Viktor's laughter continued the entire way back up the main stairs.

Hermione pushed her over-sized sunglasses up and into her wild curls as she stared at the myriad examples of stonework on display at the Rila Monastery. Shade from the various buildings cut angular shadows all over the flagstone ground, and in the distance, she could see the ever-present lush green hills and mountains of the Bulgarian landscape.

Viktor's hand - that had been pressed against or near the small of her back since they had arrived - skimmed the side of her waist as he pulled them closer together. Hermione raised an eyebrow, but he only smiled and nodded his head towards a procession of tourists moving past; not one of them looking where they were going, apparently more focused on the informative spiel being blasted into the huge headphones they all wore.

Viktor had arranged a sightseeing day, and the weather could not have been better, and while everything had been incredibly engaging and beautifully scenic, this was by far the best of all of their stops. Every worry Hermione had in the world felt a million miles away while walking around the tranquil grounds and she couldn't wait to tell her parents about every detail.

Hermione and Luna followed Viktor as he cut a path through the milling tourists that were occupied by staring up and taking pictures. They eventually made it to the top of the hill, to a small paved platform that had been designated as a viewing point and Hermione reflectively grabbed Luna around the wrist; her friend had a habit of standing far closer to the edge than Hermione deemed safe.

"Do you like it?" Vikor asked her quietly as Luna stood back and Hermione released her death grip. The blonde then scampered off to get a closer look at some detailed etchings on a far wall.

"It's beautiful," Hermione replied. There was something so peaceful about the building up in the hills that was not interrupted even by the scores of visitors.

The pair took a step back from the platform to allow the next group a turn and went off in the direction Luna had headed to, pausing to let a small group on a guided tour being led by a very pristine looking man in a blazer that seemed far too bulky for the sunny day.

"... Founded in the 10th century by St John of Rila, a hermit canonised by the Orthodox Church…"

Hermione blinked as ample flashes accompanied the fastidious man's words and smiled as she noticed the very bored looking children bringing up the rear of the group.

"... Destroyed by fire at the beginning of the 19th century, the complex was rebuilt between 1834 and 1862."

"That is not quite the whole story," Viktor said as he led Hermione towards some shade provided by one of the smaller buildings. "St John was a half blood who struggled with his magical side and how it aligned with his deeply religious values. He worked the land but eventually became a priest. He became so revered because of his miracles - that seem less miraculous once you understand his true heritage - that he came here to seek solitude."

"You know a lot about him?" Hermione inquired, picking up on the hint of fondness in Viktor's tone.

"He is the patron saint of the Bulgarian people," Viktor explained. "I was brought up to understand the story of St John as the story of a man who chooses to serve the people around him ahead of himself."

Viktor stared down at her and Hermione wasn't sure if it was the rising heat of the day or the softness in his gaze, but she was definitely feeling a little flushed. Fortunately, she was saved from responding by Luna returning and brandishing her camera.

"We should get a picture, of the three of us," Luna said excitedly, "to remember the day by."

Viktor smiled indulgently at her friend and asked Luna were she wanted them, and Hermione felt herself fall a little harder for him in that moment. As Luna fussed over getting them into the right position to perfectly frame the backdrop, Hermione remembered watching The Grinch over the Christmas holidays and specifically how his little animated heart would get bigger and bigger till it was almost popping out of his green chest. That was what it felt like, watching how Viktor cared for those she cherished. Hermione wondered how you knew if you were in love, it wasn't something she had ever really thought about before. Was there a definite sense of understanding it or did you have to determine you were experiencing the right emotions from a list? A tick box or quiz that would give you all the answers? And then Viktor squeezed against her side bringing her back into the moment, and she realised she didn't care about the hows.

"Cheese," Hermione said brightly, at Luna's prompting. Not that it was necessary, her smile was already radiant.

Once they were home from their excursions, there was only just time for a quick change to be downstairs in time for dinner. Sofiya and Grigor wanted to take the girls out for an evening during their stay and Hermione had been very flattered, and incredibly nervous, about the invitation. She had asked a few questions during the day about what she should wear and the like, Viktor, in turn, had made it clear that the Krum's were not ones to get overly dressed up for a meal which he seemed to deem the end of it. However, while Hermione would agree that they, in general, seemed like a substance over style sort of family, Sofiya had come to a school sports event in incredibly substantial jewellery.

In any case, Hermione had packed several dressy-ish outfits, again at the insistence of her mother, and while she suspected she would never be effortlessly attractive, she could at least scrub away the day-old suncream and make an attempt at beating her hair into submission. Laid back or not, she didn't imagine Sofiya Krum would have been comfortable with Hermione going to dinner in her Muggle denim cut-offs, however much Viktor had seemed to admire them.

Floaty summer dress and flat sandals decided on, Hermione and Luna made their way downstairs to meet with the Krum's, who thankfully did not look like they were attending a black tie gala and they apparated to the restaurant.

The out of the way venue the Krum's had arranged was understated yet sleek, and the family were greeted in a way not dissimilar from how Hermione and her parents were welcomed when they visited their local - and favourite - Chinese.

Sofiya ordered wine, and they discussed the sights they had seen during the day - which was met with much enthusiasm - as well as their plans for the rest of the summer - which was met with less. Hermione was something of a sun baby, and she lamented that the freckles that had come out across the bridge of her nose would likely fade by the time they got back to school, as she was destined to be shut away in Grimmauld Place until they picked up the Hogwarts Express.

"I understand that Miss Lovegood has travelled extensively," Grigor said after he and his wife were discussing their upcoming travel plans.

"That depends on your definition of extensive," Luna replied thoughtfully, "I have been to many places, but I do not feel like I have truly lifted the veil on many of them, I have not seen beyond the presented and understood the organisms that are at work in simply maintaining the status quo." Luna got up from her seat after swiping a breadstick, "but I have been to Salem, and that was fantastic," she declared before excusing herself to go to the bathroom.

Hermione watched Viktor's parents stare after her friend and decided to take pity on them. "You get used to it," she advised with a smile, which, after a moment, Grigor returned.

"I no longer wonder at Mikhail's fascination. I doubt anyone like her has ever appeared in one of his books. His father will be over the moon."

Sofiya chucked and offered her agreement but Hermione's head fell to the side in confusion, and she turned to Viktor for an explanation, but Viktor seemed to be attempting to carry on as if his father hadn't said a word. She was determined to get it out of him when they were alone.

Sofiya broke the silence, mentioning an upcoming work trip of Grigor's that Viktor would be accompanying him on. It seemed that despite his full-time job, Viktor was still the eldest - and in this case only - child of a large estate, and it was expected that he occasionally worked with his father to better understand its running in preparation for one day taking over. Hermione had a sudden urge to ask if he was worth as much as ten thousand pounds a year but decided against it; she didn't think those around the table would understand the reference.

"I am looking forward to it," Viktor acknowledged as the waiter delivered their drinks and Grigor looked on proudly.

Sofiya smiled, "It is amazing to me that you are finding time to fit it in at all, what with training, preparation for your mastery, and language lessons you are stretching yourself to the limit."

Viktor flushed, but Hermione couldn't understand why. "You're learning a new language?" she asked with interest. In all of their correspondence, she couldn't remember him mentioning anything.

"Not new no," Viktor replied awkwardly and then didn't seem inclined to say much else.

Never one to be accused of being slow, Hermione sat forward as she fiddled with her napkin. "You're taking English lessons?"

Viktor nodded.

Hermione had never considered that Viktor might have wished to keep up his English study, though a part of her she didn't want to focus on to hard while being so closely scrutinised by his parents was delighted to hear it.

"Did you not notice the vast improvement from his letters, Hermione?" Sofiya asked. "Viktor's spoken English had improved after last year, but his written was still lagging."

"Honestly, I thought you were using a translation charm," she said with a shrug, and Viktor's head snapped towards her.

"Really?"

"Yes," Hermione replied easily. "After all, you did show me that you could do one when we were studying together last year. When you changed the text in your planner so I could read it."

Grigor coughed loudly on his first sip of wine which almost completely covered his bark of, "Show off."

Sofiya dramatically sat back in her chair with one hand on her chest. "Oh, Grigor, you cannot crow here, I seem to remember long ago when someone - who shall remain nameless - went to great effort to show a young witch how it was possible to change a pipe cleaner into a diamond tennis bracelet with only one overly dramatic swoop of his wand."

Sofiya demonstrated the wave with a flourish worthy of an end of pier Muggle magician and the table laughed as Luna regained her seat.

"Thank you, wife, in my defence, at the time I had no way of knowing that you were a more practical sort of witch," he said affectionately. "Though it's not as if you can tell me you are opposed to jewellery," he continued as he fingered one of the large stones hanging from her ears.

Sofiya shrugged. "Once I learnt you were a man of substance I was happy for you to present me with such gifts, once I was sure they hadn't started life as bits of discarded potion kit."

As the lighthearted conversation continued the waiter approached for them to order their food, and Hermione, sensing Viktor was still a little embarrassed from his earlier revelation, decided to be bold, or, well, as brave as she could be and still be herself.

When her turn came, Hermione gritted her teeth and gave her order in what she imagined was just about passable Bulgarian. She made a show of looking at the waiter for as long as possible, ostensibly to check he had understood what she had said, which thankfully he appeared to have done, but to also avoid the rest of the tables gaze.

"I started learning at the beginning of Summer," she said, answering the unasked question that she could feel in the air. "I'm not great, as I'm sure you can tell, but I'm sticking with it. I can't use a translation charm forever, especially with you speaking such good English," she said, braving looking in Viktor's direction, "it would hardly be fair."

Hermione was sure Viktor's parents had made some kind of positive response, but all she could focus on was Viktor's hand; it had appeared on her knee when his mother tongue had first left her lips, and his grip had only got tighter during her explanation. It was then that Hermione realised that it was rather pleasing to have such an intelligent partner, you were saved so much of the explaining of the awkward bits as the right person could fill in the blanks of what you wanted to say - but lacked the ability - for themselves. She didn't have to expressly say she was doing it for him in some overblown romantic gesture. He got it.

As the waiter approached Luna, Hermione immediately felt guilty that she had been too wrapped up in her own thoughts to help her friend navigate the menu, albeit with her partial understanding, that was until said friend smiled brightly and ordered in Bulgarian that was nothing less than perfect, adding a few lines at the end that Hermione couldn't make head nor tail of, but that the rest of the table apparently did, given their raucous laughter.

"Luna?" Hermione asked completely puzzled.

Luna brushed some of her long hair over her shoulder. "It seemed like a good idea to learn a little bit."

"And you're already fluent?"

Luna shrugged, "Almost… languages are not difficult for me."

As Hermione turned her stunned face back across the table, Viktor caught her eye. 'You get used to it,' he mouthed with a smirk, and Hermione shoved his arm.

The five dinner guests quickly separated off once they arrived back at the Krum's house, all were incredibly full from a lovely meal that had been shared and heartily enjoyed and Hermione could feel her bed calling her name. Viktor's parents said a quick goodnight before walking further down the corridor to their room, and Hermione watched Grigor place his hand on Sofiya's back as he led the way. When they were almost out of view Sofiya's head leant against her husband's shoulder before her soft laughter rang out at something he had inevitably said.

Viktor trailed behind the girls as Hermione said a quick goodnight to Luna, they had agreed between them earlier that Luna would get herself ready for bed and then knock to spend some time in Hermione's room. Though they were both tired, Hermione needed to talk about everything that had happened in the short time they had been in Bulgaria more than she needed rest, and it was also a good time for them to write the first of their promised letters to Ginny.

Hermione then said a quick goodnight to Viktor, making sure to thank him for the day before she disappeared into her room to get herself ready, and to clear up the mess she had made of her room getting prepared for dinner so that herself and Luna could comfortably sit on her bed without being buried in an avalanche of her discarded clothes.

Before long there was a knock at the door and Hermione rushed to open it, only to find herself in the reverse situation from the one she had been in that morning. Instead of finding a sleepy Luna there was Viktor, and he looked far too intense to have been tired at all.

"Erm, Hi, Hermione, I… I just wanted to say goodnight, properly," he stammered, and Hermione nodded as she wrapped her arms around her middle. She was suddenly incredibly self-conscious as she realised she was stood in front of him in ratty pyjamas and wild hair, but pretty quickly she saw he was dressed for bed too. His feet were bare, and she could see his toes out of the bottom of navy blue pyjama trousers that scrapped along the floor.

"Oh, okay," she murmured, unable to make a more verbose response.

"Well," Viktor said hesitantly as he stepped forward and Hermione held her breath as he loomed above her, seeming to fill up the doorway. On instinct, her head fell back so she could regard his face, and Viktor's fingers trailed along her jaw until his palm rested against her cheek and she could feel the heat of his skin warm her chilled flesh. Hermione sagged into his possessive grip as he folded himself till his lips met hers, then she leant against the doorframe - thankful for its support - as he eagerly, and silently, implored her to open her mouth and then pressed his tongue inside.

They had kissed before, many times and Hermione had enjoyed each time immensely, now though there was something different about Viktor's kiss. She could feel for the first time that Viktor had a desire for things to escalate, for them to move past what they were already doing. In each other occasion, the kisses they had shared had been the climax, the glorious crescendo of all the moments that had gone before them; right then, with Hermione pressed between a slim piece of wood and his hard body it felt like only the beginning. But she was not afraid, she wasn't ready for more, but she trusted Viktor, possibly more than she trusted herself. He would know her limits.

After a time they broke apart for air and Viktor leant his forehead against hers, his steady rasps laying evidence behind Hermione's earlier musings.

"Good night, Hermione," he said finally, and with a single, hard, meaningful press of his lips against her forehead, he was gone.

A/N: Hello lovely ones, sorry for the delay! Every now and again you get a chapter that fights back, and this one sooo did not want to be written. I am not sure I have ever properly gone into the face casts for this fic, but in case you are interested my Viktor is Tom Hardy, at this stage as he was early in his career, cleanly shaven and on the slight side… we will evolve to full beefcake later in the story ;) In the next chapter, we have an appearance from Filip and Mikhail!