When Hermione woke on her second full day in Bulgaria, she wasn't alone. Luna had appeared at her door right after Viktor's very welcome, if unexpectedly intense, goodnight kiss. Her friend had shuffled into the room clad in an oversized, plaid nightdress, clutching a book of complex charms that she had offered to Hermione as she closed the door. Before Hermione had even awkwardly attempted to ask how much she might have seen, Luna had settled herself into one of the large armchairs in front of a picture window, overlooking the well-manicured lawn, leading up to a small pond.
"I thought you might want to peruse that volume," the blonde had begun, gesturing to the book in Hermione's grasp as she pulled open the heavy curtains to stare out into the moonlight. "My dad picked it up in a second-hand store at the start of the school holidays. It's old, though we couldn't say for definite how old. A lot of the spells they refer to have fallen out of common use."
Hermione walked across the heavy carpet and dropped into the chair opposite Luna, who was still avoiding her eye contact. Instead, she had been tracing the lines on the lawn with keen interest. "I thought it might be a help," Luna had finished, before letting her chin rest onto her folded hands on the back of the high backed chair, propping herself up like a child who was excited to be allowed to stay up past their bedtime.
Hermione had smiled at her friend as she opened the book with the delicate care its age required. She would never know how Luna had come to understand her so thoroughly in such a short period, but she was immensely grateful that she had. Hermione wanted to talk about Viktor more than she had ever wanted to discuss any relationship before, romantic or otherwise, but she had always been a private person, only partly by choice. As a consequence, Hermione often felt more comfortable voicing her emotions once she had been given time to process them on her own, and nothing made her feel more settled in times of upheaval than learning.
After several hours debating the surprisingly varied application of an antiquated darning charm, there hadn't seemed to be much point in Luna returning to her own room, and so the girls climbed into bed together. Despite Luna's regular turning throughout the night, Hermione felt she had slept better than she had in weeks.
Hermione had only been awake for a few seconds when there was a loud knock at her bedroom door, and after a blurry eyed look at the clock, she pushed herself out of bed.
"At least you know who it is this morning," Luna offered sleepily, and Hermione gave her a withering stare.
"Hilarious, Luna, just hilarious."
Hermione didn't have time to question her state of dress or readiness before she opened the door, later she would suppose that was down to feeling more comfortable around the Krum family. After all, the previous day had been the first time she had spent an entire day in Viktor's company, and it had gone a long way to making her not only more comfortable around him but also with the emerging relationship.
As expected, Viktor was waiting on the threshold of her door, dressed in comfortable clothes with a hand raised as if he was preparing to knock again.
"Good morning," he greeted brightly before he seemed to get a good look at her sleep-rumpled state and flushed. "I am sorry. I did not mean to wake you."
"You didn't," Hermione replied with a wave of her hand, outwardly dismissing his discomfort, though her toes bit into the carpet beneath them with her own. "I just haven't got around to getting ready yet."
"Right," Viktor replied awkwardly, "I should leave you to get on with that then."
He turned as if he would march down the corridor as fast as possible before Hermione called him back. "Viktor?" she said with amusement.
"Yes?" he replied looking at her as if he was ready to be dispatched to undertake whatever she might ask of him.
Hermione smiled and stepped further out of her door. "What did you come here to say?"
"Oh," Viktor grunted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I wanted to tell you I was planning to work in the library this morning; we can have breakfast in there if you like. I have some preliminary work to finish for my mastery studies, but I know that might be a boring way to spend your time… you and Luna are welcome to explore the grounds or…"
"Viktor," Hermione interrupted, "the library sounds great."
Viktor nodded, and Hermione tried to hide her smile. She wasn't sure why he was so discombobulated this morning, but it was nice to feel like the more in control one for a change. As Viktor paced back down the corridor, towards her door, Hermione straightened out the bottom of her pyjama top and vowed that she wouldn't look in the mirror before she showered. She had no desire to see what her hair might look like at that moment.
Viktor's fingers brushed against the back of her hand and Hermione looked up into his usual, more confident expression. With only one glance between them, it felt like the tables turned again.
"Have I told you yet how happy I am that you are here?" Viktor asked as he pulled on the bottom of one of her curls, seemingly captivated by its stretch and bounce.
Hermione smiled shyly, "You know, I don't believe that you have."
"That is very bad of me," Viktor replied, his voice lowering as he stepped forward and his head dropped to meet hers.
In a rush, Hermione's mind was brought back to the previous night and the intensity of their last shared kiss. No amount of charm spell discussion in the world was going to help her indefinitely. She was stuck between waiting for him to kiss her and reaching up to meet him halfway when Viktor suddenly jerked forward.
"Son," Grigor greeted with a slight twist of his lips, and it took Hermione a moment to recover enough from his sudden appearance to realise that Viktor's father had seen him going in for a morning kiss and had cuffed the back of his head. She tried her best not to laugh or die from embarrassment as she greeted Grigor and her teeth were firmly pressed into her bottom lip as he disappeared down the corridor, presumably on his way to breakfast, and to make his wife laugh at his antics.
"You could have told me he was there," Viktor whispered, though he didn't sound very chastised. At that moment Hermione could see him for the young man he was, rather than the more mature version of himself he typically presented; Viktor was wavering between mortification and humour every bit as much as she was.
"I didn't see him," Hermione insisted before lifting herself up onto her toes to kiss Viktor's cheek. The kiss was brief and in comparison to their heated exchange the previous evening, positively chaste. But it was also casual and unstudied in a way that spoke of their growing familiarity with each other, and it was that aspect that Hermione clung to hardest.
"That does not count as full apology," Viktor countered with a mock pout, and Hermione gave into the threatening giggles as Luna made a show of stepping slowly out of the door, one arm stiffly stretched out in front of her as the other hand covered her eyes.
"You don't have to do that Luna," Hermione said, "I am behaving perfectly appropriately."
"I am sure you are," Luna agreed as she found the far corridor wall with her splayed fingers. "Though it doesn't hurt to practise these things every now and again, you never know when they could come in handy."
Viktor had woken up that morning determined to be the most gentlemanly version of himself. He had reflected on the kiss he had shared with Hermione the night before, and he couldn't help but feel a little ashamed of himself. While he was sure he hadn't pushed her any further than she would have wanted to go, Viktor knew that he had 'let himself off the leash' so to speak. Enough so that had felt Hermione's fractional retreat from his lips as they said goodnight.
When Hermione had agreed to stay Viktor's father had summoned him to his office where he had sat through a somewhat uncomfortable conversation regarding the conduct expected in his household, by a member of his line, followed by a summons from his mother that had led to a discussion along the same vein, though expressed rather differently.
When Viktor had first invited Hermione to come and stay with him, he'd had notions of being in his own flat by then and being able to show her around and spend time together without being under the ever watchful eyes of his parents. He had also never imagined she would bring along a friend in any of those scenarios. It was always just them. Now Viktor could fully appreciate how ridiculous those imaginings were.
Hermione was still young, and while the years between them were small in number, the gap between their stage of life was vast. Although he had understood all of this academically before she had come to stay, Viktor now considered that he realised it on a more emotional level. He had a responsibility to ensure that Hermione felt comfortable with the physical side of their relationship, as she had no experience a bad one now could negatively affect her for the rest of her life and Viktor could not live with that. He had decided that in this, as in all things, he would wait for his witch to take the lead. Viktor would be charm itself and hold his other… impulses, back until he knew such things were welcome. For now, he would have to be satisfied with his… imaginings.
During the weeks that they had been apart when situations had become stressful or difficult, Viktor had closed his eyes and day-dreamed that Hermione was with him, and despite his more embarrassing wanderings of mind, most of these scenarios had been nothing more than - slightly embellished - hashed together memories. It had allowed him to feel closer to her while there were oceans between them.
Sometimes Viktor would get flashes of Hermione standing outside the gates of Hogwarts, she would be about a hundred or so paces away, and while he focused in on her face, the rest of the crowd would fade into nothing. Sometimes he would get blurred glimpses of her at the Yule Ball, flashes of blue and sparkling lights. But those particular recollections were elusive; no sooner would Viktor begin imagining the exact shade of her gown and the light in her eyes, and then, just like that, dream Hermione would disperse.
Most of the time, whether she had been voluntarily sought or had involuntarily appeared, Viktor's remembered Hermione would look just as she did when they had worked together in the Hogwarts library; buried in an ill-fitting jumper and staring into a book as if the closeness of her nose to the page impacted the depth of knowledge she could learn from within. It was precisely because the image had become so dear to him that Viktor found his current situation, pressed up next to Hermione in the library at his family home, both strangely familiar and wonderfully novel.
The Krum library was substantial by private collection standards, and Viktor enjoyed the small room very much. His mother hated that traditional libraries in the houses of her peers were seen as spaces for the men of the house, often an extension of their studies, and so when she took up occupation in the manor after marrying his father, she redecorated. Gone were the oppressive dark wood stands, replaced with more neutral tones and shorter stacks that allowed the light from the triple aspect windows to flow in. Flowers of all kinds were placed on as many surfaces as she could manage, as long as they didn't go anywhere near the rarer volumes. It couldn't compete with the grandiose scale of Hogwarts, but as he had the best thing he had found there with him, Viktor found he had no desire to complain.
As soon as he had opened the door, Luna had asked to be pointed in the direction of their books on local mythology, and they hadn't seen her since, though Viktor fancied he heard mumbling from differing locations around them every now and again.
Viktor looked down at the next section of his form and flicked through the papers he had stacked in front of him to find the relevant information. As he got to the bottom of the pile, Hermione leaned over, nudging his arm and Viktor smiled as she unconsciously sought to spread herself out further.
He bumped her shoulder, "Do you need more space?"
Hermione startled, blinking out of her previously focused state before she looked down at the desk where she had been edging Viktor's materials off the surface for the last hour. "Sorry," she said shyly, "I'm kind of territorial when I study."
"I remember," Viktor replied fondly. He had been trying for light teasing, but his words came out more intensely than he had planned and his meaning seemed to expand in the air around them until they drained the already quiet room of any background noise.
Viktor coughed self consciously and fiddled with the edge of the nearest parchment until Hermione, with a hesitant smile, seemed to take pity on him. "What are you working on?"
"I have forms to complete before the mastery begins, registering my studies and implements with our government. This one is the most complicated," Viktor explained, gesturing to the stack in front of him, "it will allow me to continue working with a staff."
"I didn't know you used one?" Hermione replied, putting down her quill and flexing her ink-stained fingers.
"Do you not remember the Durmstrang entrance when we visited your school? Fillip will be disappointed."
Hermione laughed and twisted herself in her chair - ones that were much more comfortable than they had made use of when studied together before - "Of course I remember! But you didn't take part in that. You walked in at the end with Karkaroff. You looked like you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you, as it was, I didn't get a chance to feel sympathetic, I had just seen you materialise for the first time since the World Cup and, unlike you, our second encounter was a surprise to me."
Viktor grinned. "Would it help if I told you I was sorry?"
"It would if I had any faith that you meant it," Hermione replied tartly, and Viktor poked out his tongue at her. "So the staff?" She asked, dragging them back onto topic.
"We sometimes used them at Durmstrang. They are often used in schools in this part of the world. Karkaroff, in particular, was fond of them, he thought they would intimidate an opponent."
"Do they require more skill to wield than a wand?"
Viktor considered his response. "Not more," he conceded, "just different. Better for some magic than others."
"Is it better for transfiguration?" Hermione pressed, and Viktor saw that she had the bit between the teeth. He supposed he had never had any interest in vapid women and Hermione was the polar opposite of that, though he did sometimes lament that it was impossible to get anything past her, and he suspected she wouldn't be too thrilled at his explanation.
"Not particularly," he responded finally, and Hermione's head cocked to the side.
"Then why?"
Viktor shifted in his seat. "I like using it, but also, it is a way of remembering Karkaroff, and all he taught us."
Hermione stiffened in her seat before she gripped a curl in the front of her hair and began twisting it around her fingers. "I will never understand why you admire him so much."
"I know," Viktor replied. He understood her reasons for disliking his old Headmaster, even agreed with them for the most part, and he might never be able to make her understand, but it didn't mean he could switch his feelings off.
Despite her visable agitation, Hermione placed her hand on his forearm in a gesture of comfort. "Have they heard anything from him? Where he might be?"
"No."
Hermione nodded. "Maybe we should change the subject?"
Viktor huffed out a breath and thought for a moment before he smiled. "Would you like to know what I have planned for tomorrow?"
Hermione's frame relaxed and her lips curved into a smile. "I thought I wasn't allowed to know our itinerary ahead of time."
"Maybe I will make an exception."
"Really, you have told me many times, and I quote 'I should focus on enjoying the time, not worrying what comes next'."
Viktor huffed out a laugh at her overacted impression of him before picking up his form again. "Oh, if you do not want to know…"
Hermione grabbed his arm and put her other hand on top of his stack of papers. "Okay, what are we doing?" she asked eagerly.
Viktor twisted in his seat to face her better and tried as hard as he could to push down his nerves. He reminded himself that nothing could be as terrifying as asking her to the Yule Ball. "I have a practice game tomorrow," he said, wondering if she had remembered him mentioning the upcoming games in his letters. "I wondered if you would like to come with me, to watch. I know it's it..."
"I would love to," Hermione said, cutting him off, "I would love to come."
Viktor tucked Hermione closer against his side as they made it through the main entrance gates to the Vstra stadium, on reflex he pulled his hat down further over his eyes. Though it was still early, and only a practise friendly game with another Bulgarian side, there were already a vast number of people coming in, and Viktor didn't want Hermione to get lost in the growing crush, or to be seperated from her if he was recognised and surrounded.
He tried not to look like he was grinning too broadly or preening too much; his father had told him there was nothing less appealing about a person then when they decided to 'show off' their partner as if the were some rare cufflinks they had just acquired. So he tried his best not to look smug, but Viktor couldn't help keeping her close. While he might not have been the most comfortable on the ground - his father had also told Viktor he would grow out of looking like he was too tall and thin for his feet, but in his opinion that hadn't happened yet - he gave into the ever-present temptation to keep her safe.
Viktor steered them towards a quieter patch, beyond the souvenir stands, and looked around for his friends, all while making sure Luna was never more than a couple of paces away from them. Though he had no doubt the diminutive blonde could look after herself, he was dealing with enough pre-game nerves - friendly match or not - to cope with such a distraction ahead of the game.
Fairly quickly Viktor spotted Filip's dark blond curls above the milling heads, mainly as his friend was bouncing on his feet, as was typical when he became overly excited. Filip had always suffered from an excess of energy, but unlike himself, Viktor's friend was incredibly gracefully with it. His mother had often remarked that Filip had a dancers line, an observation that had proved accurate when duelling, but only when Filip could be trusted to concentrate.
There was a break in the crowd in front of them as the announcement came for the fans to start taking their seats, and it was enough for his friends to spot their approach, and Filip, ever lacking in anything approaching reserve, immediately started running towards them. Viktor tried, valiantly, to move Hermione out of the way, but despite his professional aptitude, he was nowhere near quick enough. Filip had Hermione off her feet and up in the air before Viktor could so much as warn him to be careful.
Hermione looked torn between admonishing Filip for his recklessness and being delighted by his chosen welcome, which she returned warmly, but more calmly that Filip had managed. Conversation flowed happily between the knotted group for a short while, and Viktor became momentarily distracted in it until he spotted Head Coach Rakov standing in front of the player's tunnel. The stern man made a wind-up motion, and Viktor knew he didn't have long, he was grateful of the leeway he'd already been given in arriving later than most and as such wanted to make sure he didn't push it. He was also incredibly thankful that they'd had the luck not to bump into any of his teammates on their way in. Viktor had been loathed to mention anything about Hermione coming to the match to the rest of the players, but it had been let slip when there was a general enquiry about the seats he had requested in the player's box. Several of the player's wives/ girlfriends/ mistresses did not get on and as such careful planning of the seat allocations was sometimes required to ensure there was not more action off the pitch than on.
"Look after them," he instructed looking at Mikhail. He knew the girls were in excellent hands, but it was worth making the point.
"I will see you after," he muttered into Hermione's hair before squeezing her hand and jogging over to Coach Rakov. The man had no real expression on his face, not that that in itself was unusual. Viktor was very used to the man not revealing much of what he was feeling.
"Sorry Coach," he said before Rakov pressed a hand to his shoulder, eying him wryly. Viktor wondered if the older wizard remembered what it was like to be young and in love, he had never met the man's wife, though he knew he had been married over forty years.
"In you go, Krum," Rakov grunted, and Viktor took off at a pace to get to the changing rooms.
Hermione watched Viktor's back as he made his way into the 'player's walk' in the centre of the stands and a small frisson of excitement fizzed in her belly. The last time she had been anywhere near a proper Quidditch stadium, Viktor had been playing for his national side, and it had been the night they had first met. Hermione had looked at pictures of him strewn around the campsite and had casually wondered about the boy with the scar in his eyebrow; now she had answers to all of her idle questions and more. Now, she supposed, she had the boy as well as her answers.
When Viktor disappeared, Hermione allowed herself to be swept away in Filip's happy recollections of his holiday so far and his eager questions about how she was enjoying Bulgaria. Mikhail surprised her by offering her a warm if slightly studied hug and then stepped back to allow her to fall back into Filip's orbit.
That Viktor's friends were excited to be attending the match was hardly in any doubt. They both mentioned how they had visited the stadium together often as children and on holidays from school. For herself, Hermione was incredibly grateful to have the two former Durmstrang students with them, as she had no idea where she was supposed to be going, and there seemed to be a lot of people in attendance for a friendly match.
Seemingly catching her wide, sweeping glances, Mikhail cut off Filip's happy ramblings to explain. "Vstra is putting out a new team, and people want to see them play ahead of the official league matches. I am sure Viktor has been too modest to say, but him being here will have drawn a larger crowd."
Hermione supposed that made sense, in so much as sporting fixtures ever did to her and she felt comfortable enough to ignore the growing swarm of people as they decided to heed the constant recorded tannoy advice and find their seats. Like at any Quidditch match this meant a lot of climbing. While at Hogwarts the stands were separated into individual towers, here in the Vstra stadium there was a giant oval ring that was suspended high in the air above some complicated scaffolding. As Hermione carefully trudged up staircase after staircase, forcing herself not to look down, she couldn't understand why no one had considered a magical means for this but thought better of commenting. Who knew what kind of painful, discombobulating solution someone might stumble upon, then she would be kicking herself.
Filip's energy applied to everything he did; therefore it was hardly a surprise that he was bounding ahead and encouraging Hermione to do the same. However, she got the impression every now and again that he seemed to be hurrying her, which was strengthened by Mikhail and Luna seeming to lag behind.
When they arrived at the player's box, Hermione found herself sat between Luna and Filip, with Mikhail on Luna's other side. Hermione privately reflected on how comical it was that the two matches she had attended outside of school had been viewed in the luxury of the best boxes available, as someone who had no real care for the sport. Hermione had a momentary pang when she considered how much Harry would have liked to be there, but she pushed it away. She couldn't influence at the moment, and it would have been incredibly rude to be sullen with Viktor's friends for the sake of one of her own.
Mikhail disappeared over to a kiosk to get them an array of snacks as people filled in around them, jostling excitedly for their places. When he returned, he threw a programme at Filip who went through the players on each team with the girls and explained who they were along with a brief synopsis of their history before he looked at the clock at the far end of the stadium and saw they had little time left.
"So, we got you something," he said, sitting back in his chair and pulling out the backpack that he had stowed under his seat earlier. After a few minutes of fruitless rustling, he picked a folded down paper bag that he handed to her. Hermione, as someone who had had all too many boys as friends growing up, smiled at his attempt at wrapping.
"You shouldn't have," she responded automatically. "What is it?" she asked even as she opened up the bag and a light knitted top fell across her knees.
"It's a Vstra shirt," Mikhail explained, "we thought you might like one for the game."
"Games," Filip corrected, "I am sure this will not be your last." Hermione had begun to grin before Filip's smile took a wicked turn. "It is a child's one," he said, pointing to the large label attached to the side with a giant cartoon version of the Vstra Vultures mascot. Who knew a vulture could be made to look so… cheerful?
"That's mean," Hermione protested with a pout as she tried to hold back her laughter.
"I know," Filip agreed, thoroughly pleased with himself. "We looked at pet ones first!"
"What Filip means to say," Mikhail bit out exasperated, "is that we thought this one might fit you better than the small ladies one."
Hermione felt very much like commenting about their assumption, kindly meant or otherwise but was cut off by Filip hurrying her to her feet. "You have time to change before the match. Go, go, go now!"
Hermione must have looked unsure as Luna leaned across Filip to grab her hand. "Do you want me to come?"
"No, no I'm fine," Hermione replied, her issue hadn't been with going alone. "You stay where you are."
Hermione stepped out of the rickety bathroom stall and thought about the no doubt vast amounts of money that had been spent on the stadium, and the obvious lack of allocation towards restrooms. Even ones, such as this, in the 'plush' parts of the stands. She dropped the jumper she had put on that morning on the side of the sink - carefully avoiding the puddles of splashed water - and straightened out her new shirt.
Hermione was pleased to discover that Quidditch jerseys were a lot more understated and classic than Muggle replica football shirts. The kit the boys had gotten for her was a long sleeved jumper in a fine-knit, dark blue that had the clubs logo embroidered above her left breast. Hermione tilted her head and pulled at the ends of her curls in an attempt to flatten the poofing caused by changing clothes and caught sight of lettering that was across her shoulder blades. 'KRUM' was clearly visible in bold, silver letters.
It self-consciously made her smile. It was nice that Viktor's friends had brought it for her. Hermione had considered buying one for herself when Viktor's signing had been made public, but even if she had, she didn't think she would have been brave enough to get it out of her trunk and wear it, especially not to one of his games. Filip presenting it to her made Hermione feel like she was allowed to, and, after all, the boys were both wearing theirs, both with Viktor's name and number on the back.
She made one final attempt to wrestle a curl and resolved to give up but before she could leave the bathroom door swung open and three of the most beautiful women Hermione had ever seen walked in. She was suddenly assaulted by a barrage of noise; the fast pattern of different voices and the clattering of heels. The girls… women, walked into the space and brushed past her as if they didn't even know she was there.
In a matter of seconds, Hermione was back to standing alone in the dimly lit bathroom, only now she could hear the muffled voices of the women that had entered as they chattered to each other through the stall doors.
Hermione tugged at the bottom hem of her top and glanced at herself in the mirror. They certainly weren't wearing anything like she was in. No sports tops, jeans and trainers for them, but they must have been known to the players - be here to watch them - the bathroom was attached to the player's box after all.
Hermione stifled a sigh and pushed herself through the bathroom door.
Why did models have to be so tall?
When Hermione regained her seat, Mikhail gave her a small smile before looking back down at the programme that was now spread across his lap as he explained something to Luna. Filip pushed a styrofoam cup of tea into her chilly fingers - it was a warm day, but up so high they were subjected to the will of crosswinds - before he subtly started indicating some of the more famous people around them.
While Hermione had never had much interest in the lives of the rich and famous she did laugh at some of the more outrageous society stories Filip related, more because of his sensational delivery than anything else, but her gaze kept landing back on Mikhail and Luna as they quietly but animatedly conversed. Hermione was sure she had never seen Mikhail talk so much.
"Filip?" she began, trying to sound as unconcerned as possible.
"Yes?"
"What is happening over there?" Hermione asked and indicated her head in the direction of their other friends.
Filip followed her gaze before raising his shoulders in a half shrug and sighed. "Probably a bit less than I would like."
"I'm sorry?"
"We, Viktor and I, think Mikhail might have a crush on your friend."
"Really?" Hermione exclaimed and then cursed herself for being an idiot. All the little comments over the last few days suddenly made a whole lot more sense. She wondered if Luna knew, and if so why she hadn't told her.
Filip nodded. "It is unusual for him, very unusual."
Hermione watched as Mikhail smiled at something Luna said and sat back in her chair. "I had no idea."
"If it is any consolation, I cannot see him doing anything about it. At least not yet."
"Why ever not?" Hermione wondered aloud.
Filip drew closer to her and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Not all of us move as quick as Viktor when our interest has been peaked."
Hermione flushed. "He didn't move that quickly," she defended, "I didn't see him for months after we first met."
"No," Filip agreed in an airy tone, "but then he was rather determined to get to England after you had met, and how long did he wait to find you once he got to the school? Two, three days at most?"
"Maybe two," Hermione conceded as she feigned interest in a bag of sweets left on the arm of her chair.
Filip bumped her shoulder. "I am only teasing Hermione. It is why Viktor is so good at what he does. He knows what he wants, recognises it when he sees it and makes sure he gets there first."
Hermione cleared her throat, "Maybe we should concentrate on the Quidditch. Who did you say was playing Seeker for the other side?"
Filip grinned at her. "If you wish…."
After the match was over - a respectable three hours and twenty-five minutes of game time - Filip and Mikhail guided Luna and Hermione down a small side street until they arrived at a large pub that wouldn't have looked too far out of place in a London suburb. It was vast on the inside, and Hermione suspected some charms had been rendered to the walls to increase the space, judging by the number of people that had already swarmed there, it could have comfortably held a couple of hundred people.
Most of the occupants of their box were there, and Filip excitedly informed them that this was where the teams would come for an after match drink. The pub was wizarding, even if the location was not and notice-me-not and Muggle repeller charms supposedly covered the entirety of the grounds. After the brief history of the building that held Hermione's rapt attention, much of the talk focused on the game that had just occurred, and Hermione found it was just as challenging to contribute to the chatter even when she had been there.
Viktor had won - or, rather, his team had - and he had got off the broom safely, which had been all Hermione had cared about, but not in that order. Though, she could say, with the help of Filip's ever-present roaring in her ears during, that Viktor had acquitted himself well. Hermione supposed she would have to try and desensitise herself to the dangers of Quidditch if Viktor was planning to continue his career for a decade or more - and if they continued to be together. Though, four years of school competitions hadn't dampened her worry for Harry every time he played, so she wasn't entirely confident of her success.
Soon after they arrived a man Hermione didn't recognise joined their group and drew Filip into a detailed discussion regarding one of the formations that had been attempted late in the match and Hermione must have glazed over as she found Mikhail walking towards her.
"Come on, Hermione," he said kindly, "let's go to the bar."
Hermione all but jumped at the welcome invitation and followed on dutifully, although she had to bite down the first ten variations of 'do you fancy my friend?' that popped into her mind and instead focused on the bar in front of her and what she wanted to drink. Until her attention was entirely consumed by a pair of large hands that appeared, one either side of her, boxing her in and gripping onto the weathered bar in front. Hermione would have poorly reacted had she not recognised them, the hands and the subtle aftershave that she could pick up from the warm body that had slotted up behind her without her notice.
"You were not wearing this earlier," Viktor said as he slowly ran one hand over the lettering emblazoned across her shoulders. She was glad there was no mirror behind the bar, so Viktor could not see her smile.
"No, I was not," she agreed. "Your friends had a little present for me."
"And for me, it would seem."
Viktor's voice was husky, and Hermione flushed but was saved from speaking as Mikhail pushed a butterbeer towards her along the surface of the bar before drifting back over to the little group they left. Now they were alone - or as alone as they would be that evening - Hermione spun in place and faced a fresh from the shower Viktor, cheeks still pink from the exertion of the day's match.
"You played well," Hermione said, smiling up at his welcome face.
"There you sound like an expert, and we both know you have no desire to be that," he said with a grin. "Come on; I want to introduce you to some of the team."
Hermione had just been pulled away from a stilted conversation with Viktor's coach when she crashed into another player she recognised from Viktor's team, who, if Hermione didn't know better, she would have said seemed to have deliberately placed himself directly in her way.
"Who is this little treat you are keeping all to yourself Krum?" he asked in heavily accented, yet perfect English. Once again Hermione found herself lamenting her lack of languages prowess.
"Bakalov, this is Hermione, Hermione this is Dragomir Bakalov," Viktor said, giving the introductions succinctly and, Hermione suspected, a little reluctantly.
"Nice to meet you," Hermione said kindly, smiling up at the man who was a little taller than Viktor and a good deal more confident in his body. Dragomir had one of those ready smiles and winking faces that would have been happily at home in a men's shaving or toothpaste advert. She had no problem imagining him as someone that woke up every day only to promptly move into the bathroom to grim widely in the mirror at what he found there.
"Nice to meet me?" he parroted back with what appeared to be mock affront, "I see my reputation has not preceded me. How upsetting. It is never nice to meet me, Hermione, it's either spectacular or its nothing at all."
"Bakalov," Viktor warned, though he didn't seem especially put out when Dragomir just laughed.
"I'm sorry, Hermione, I am being childish. But who knew emotionless Krum could have so many buttons to push."
Hermione was sharply put in mind of an older, more arrogant Cormac McLaggen, but as Dragomir was not one of Viktor's close friends she brushed off her initial dislike. He was by no means her problem.
Later, as the hours seemed to tick by quicker, once talk of Quidditch had become a little more scarce, Hermione found Luna and managed to have a conversation just the two of them for a short while. Hermione wanted very much to bring up Mikhail, but she didn't feel like this was the right place, for one someone could have easily overheard, and for another, she was unsure how much Luna knew about the other boy's feelings, or how she felt in return. She had no desire to make her friend awkward on this trip.
A while later, Luna had been commandeered by some philosopher or other, and Hermione found herself standing near a high table watching the events going on around her until her peace was disturbed and she was unexpectedly surrounded by the women from earlier, the incredibly beautiful gazelle-like women who had come into the bathroom.
"Hi," one of them - the one with hair so dark it was black - said and Hermione returned her greeting a little awkwardly.
"We've not seen you at the matches before, are you one of the player's little sisters?"
The irrational side of Hermione, the side that made her jump into a fight with Ron without even thinking wanted to get into a snit and make some sort of comment back, but thankfully she had only had two butterbeers and as such was still functioning with complete clarity. And, honestly, she wasn't sure there had been any malice in the woman's enquiry. She might have been fishing, but if she had bad intentions, she was certainly better at hiding it than Parvati and Lavender had ever managed to be.
Dragomir, who Hermione had earlier decided she wasn't bothered if she spoke to again, sidled over as Hermione was debating on how to respond.
"No," he answered as he put an arm around her shoulders, and Hermione fought against the urge to shake it off. "She's with Viktor," he explained.
"With, with?" the blonde with corkscrew curls asked, eyeing Hermione appraisingly.
"Is there any other kind?" Dragomir replied, "but never fear ladies; I am here to console you." In a move so smooth Hermione was sure it was practised, Dragomir released her shoulders before inserting himself into the group of girls and steering them off in another direction, throwing a wink at Hermione over her shoulder.
Soon the only evidence they had been there at all was the faint sound of tinkling laughter, but Hermione found herself stuck still, staring after them, and worrying.
"What are you thinking so hard about?"
Viktor's voice interrupted her thoughts as he came up behind her again, dropping his chin on her shoulder and his hands at her sides. "Nothing?" she replied, unconvincingly even to her own ears.
Viktor stood back up to his full height and easily saw over most of the milling patrons to where Dragomir had secluded himself on the far side of the room, flanked by female attention. "Do not worry about Bakalov; he can handle himself."
Hermione snorted. She did not doubt that Dragomir was more than capable of getting himself in and out of precarious situations. But that wasn't what had affected her. "And… and you?" Hermione replied tentatively, "Can you… handle yourself?"
Viktor's hands tightened around her before he gently turned her in his grip, his achingly familiar face looked confused, and Hermione flushed.
"I'm being silly…" she admitted, knowing she was being insecure and forcing Viktor to allay fears that he had already comforted her over several times, but she didn't know how to stop herself. "I'm going home soon and well, those girls they're everywhere."
"They are," Viktor admitted as his brows furrowed. "There are also boys everywhere in England. I have heard they are almost half the population of your country."
"You know what I mean," Hermione protested, and she was glad that she had managed not to stamp her foot despite her petulant tone. Though she was grateful for Viktor's reaction to her need for reassurance was an attempt at humour rather than exasperation, she needed him to be more serious now.
"I do," he nodded before seemingly thinking over what he wanted to say. "Hermione, I wasn't interested before you, and I'm definitely not interested now."
Viktor pulled on the soft knit of her jumper that was resting against the inside of her left wrist and pulled it up far enough to allow him to draw small circles on her flesh with his calloused thumb. "You know I thought about buying one of these jumpers for you and sending it by owl before you came, but I didn't because it felt a bit... presumptuous."
Hermione sagged, as ever comforted by both Viktor's words and actions. He always seemed to know what to say. "I thought about buying one too but didn't for the same reasons."
Viktor's lips quirked and he used his grip on her wrist to pull her closer. "I think after the last few days I am beginning to presume a more."
"I think after the last few days I'm happy that you are doing so."
"I was hoping that when you went home, you might be okay with me asking if you would be my girlfriend." Hermione almost completely stifled her gasp but was not wholly successful, she saw Viktor tense in response and hated that he seemed to lose some of his resolve. "I know it will be very hard with the long distance, but it feels a bit silly to be still calling you my friend. You are not a penpal."
Hermione stepped forward, closer into Viktor's shadow and used her free hand to grab his. "I would be very happy if you asked me that."
Very happy was something of an understatement but as it was the only words that had come out of her mouth she supposed they would have to do. Hermione had forced herself to not read too much into how Viktor had left Hogwarts at the start of summer. She had explained to Ginny, Ron and even Harry, more than once on the train ride back that labelling what they had between them was foolish, because of the myriad of factors working against them. But a small part of her had opened up to doubt. Doubt in his feelings, doubt in their constancy, doubt in her own. Hermione hadn't expected this, but she was thankful for it. What had seemed like the best route forward now seemed ill-considered, they would need more commitment from each other if long distance was going to work.
Viktor seemed happy enough with her choice of words, not a particularly effusive person himself, Hermione supposed he was more comfortable with plain speech. He squeezed her hand, and a more mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. "I do not know if I can ask now; you have ruined my plans."
Hermione grinned at his teasing and how his shoulders had relaxed. "In which case, I will leave everything to you, I wouldn't want to be presumptuous."
Viktor let go of her wrist, and his fingers trailed up her arm till his hand rested on her shoulder, Hermione looked up, and Viktor looked down, and everything around them seemed to melt away. Until Filip shouted at them as he bounded over, looking stressed.
"Come on lovebirds! We have to move now. Hermione, they are starting a pub quiz, and you are sitting next to me."
Hermione giggled at the absurdly intense and possessive look on Filip's face. Being both directed at her and about something so benign as a quiz the intensity was rendered ridiculous.
"Who else would I be with?"
Filip crossed his arms and tapped his foot. "Apparently you talked one of the player's ears off about some potions paper you read, and he was looking for you when they started setting up. We have to go now."
"Alright," Hermione replied giving what she hoped was a rain check look to Viktor before she trailed off behind Filip.
"We claim dibs, don't we Viktor," Filip continued even though he had already carried his point.
"We most certainly do," Viktor replied, with a lot more severe intensity than Filip had managed and Hermione was wholly unable to laugh at it.
A/N: Greetings beautiful people. Sorry for the huge delay in updating, I've been doing a lot of reading lately (there is so much good fanfic out there at the moment!). I also started watching The Lizzie Bennet Diaries, and I didn't resurface from that for about a week (go watch if you are a fan of Pride and Prejudice and you haven't already seen). In the next update we have a Muggle date night :)