With all that Hermione had learned about time and it's myriad rules during her third year, she still felt that she failed to understand its passing. Before she had gone to Bulgaria, during her stay at Grimmauld Place, the days had crawled by seemingly without end. Since she had returned, the time had flown past before she could think about trying to hold onto it. Viktor was leaving again.

Hermione hadn't allowed herself to get truly upset when they were parted at the end of the previous school year. She had thought it was foolish to put too much pressure on a relationship that might have drifted away to nothing once distance and vastly different circumstances became more apparent. But then Viktor's first letter had arrived, and then he had sent another, and then another. Their relationship had drifted away from the possible 'holiday romance' definition - where all amorous attentions could be put down to fleeting feelings - and was becoming something real.

Hermione didn't believe there was any point in commanding herself to be positive this time. She'd never had the best control of her emotions, and though it was her temper that was most likely to be touched, she could feel extreme sadness just as much as anyone. But it wasn't only sadness; there was a good amount of hostility mixed in there too. Hermione wasn't proud of it, but she had never been very good at not getting her own way. She wasn't even sure what she would have wanted to happen for the best in this situation, but Viktor leaving without a firm plan of when she would see him again was far from ideal.

Tonks had arrived that morning, full of easy smiles for everyone - more for Professor Lupin than anyone else, but who was counting? - and quickly, predictably, tripped over Kreacher and woke up Mrs Black. Hermione tried to smile when Tonks greeted her warmly, but she guessed she wouldn't fool any person trained to look for deception as she imagined any recruits of Mad-Eye would be. Hermione found she liked the Auror a good deal more than most of the frequent visitors to Headquarters, but Tonks was there to escort Viktor to his port key location, and so she couldn't be as happy to see her as she would typically have been.

Viktor had tried to push back on having an escort, for someone as famous as he was, he was reluctant to cause a fuss and was confident he could manage it without help. But Moody had shot his request down in flames before Viktor had even fully finished his sentence. In any case, the location they were using for his departure was different than their arrival; apparently, they rotated it.

With Tonks' drawing the entire house down to the corridor with all the noise, the adults decided to have an impromptu meeting to review the current goings-on at the ministry. Harry protested that he should be allowed to join, but he was refused, despite hearty agreement from Sirius which honestly probably went against him in the long run.

For the remaining inhabitants, the draw of Order meetings had lost some of their lustre. Once the door shut on the kitchen and the silencing charms were up, they dispersed around the large house to spend the morning how they liked, without a cleaning product in sight.

Viktor had pushed back his time of departure till after lunch, and when one o'clock rolled around, Hermione could sense he was dragging his feet. It was heartening to find that he was as reluctant to leave as she was for him to go, despite the surroundings and some of the company he'd had to enjoy, but she knew he couldn't reasonably delay any longer. Viktor had a training session that very evening, his coach liked them to train for the eventuality of playing at night, and he had already missed all that he was allowed over the previous week.

Soon, too soon, they were standing together in the unwelcoming welcome hall with Viktor's battered travel bag at their feet. Ostensibly they were alone, Hermione certainly couldn't see anyone else, but the gentle creaking of the stairs from above led her to believe there were probably a few faces pressed against the bannister on the next floor up. She wanted to be mad at them, for infringing on a private moment, her last foreseeable private moment, but she didn't have the heart for it.

Hermione looked pointedly upwards until Viktor followed her gaze and gave her a wry smile. Rather than saying anything, and possibly alerting their audience, he looped his fingers around her wrist and gently tugged her into the front reception room of the house.

"I will not shut the door," Viktor said gesturing at the three-inch gap he had left between the door and the frame and Hermione nodded. A shut door would likely lead to one of the adults poking their head in to 'check that everything was okay'.

Hermione rearranged her feet on the over sanded wooden floorboards as her eyes fixed on Viktor adjusting and then readjusting the neckline of his thin, green jumper. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate the more private location, but now that they were there, without the almost invisible buffer of her friends in the wings, she didn't know what to do with herself. All morning they had drifted around together side by side and very obviously not talked about him leaving, now that they had no choice but to do so, Hermione felt as if she had nothing to say.

"I am leaving you again," Viktor said and despite herself, Hermione smiled. When in doubt, blurt out the elephant in the room and hope for the best.

"You are," Hermione agreed with forced cheer. "I thought it was supposed to get easier? Isn't that what people say?"

Viktor grunted. "Then why does it feel worse?" He laughed mirthlessly before he tilted his head, smiled at her and Hermione managed to return it.

"I suppose we need to get used to it… goodbyes I mean. If we are going to try," Hermione offered, once again drawn to look to the floor until she heard Viktor's feet creak against the uneven floor. Towards her.

"You were all the way on the other side of the room," he said fondly, "we should stay close while we still can."

Hermione laughed, but the quiet sound died when Viktor reached to hold her nearest hand between both of his. She looked down at his skin, lighter and more calloused than her own and pushed passed the lump in her throat. "Thank you, thank you for everything. When you first invited me to stay, I was so ner... I… I had a lovely time and thank you for coming back here, with me."

Viktor looked around the room before gazing back at her face. "You will be okay here?" He asked with concern. His tone hinted at his doubt, but Hermione shrugged.

"It's only a week or so, and then we're back at school."

There was a shared look between them, Viktor clearly would not have thought of Hogwarts as a safe place for her to be, and Hermione couldn't disagree.

"You will tell me if you are not?" Viktor pressed as his thumb rubbed circles into her wrist. Along with his gentle concern, she was sure the action was meant to soothe, but it made Hermione want to run away. If it had been her and Ron one of them would have turned this into an argument by now, they would have regretted it later of course, but the harsh words would have served their purpose of avoiding the onslaught of emotions at the time.

"I will," she replied finally, and honestly.

Viktor seemed to take her word for it though whether he was any happier than she was about their current predicament she couldn't tell. Viktor turned away to look at the door, and Hermione - paranoid about extendable ears and hovering self-appointed magical guardians - followed his gaze. But there was no trace of any eavesdropping.

Viktor's fingers momentarily tightened on hers as he drew Hermione close. "When we were in Bulgaria after you saw me play I said that I wanted to ask you something."

Hermione's mind flew back to their night in the pub, where she had been overwhelmed by his fans and her feelings. "You did."

Viktor further closed the gap between them, and now he looked less hesitant. There was a quirk to his smile that she recognised, he had it whenever he was flirting with her. "I never asked."

Hermione flushed, even as she set her resolve. She was determined to play him at his own game, or, more likely, die of embarrassment in the attempt. "I assumed you knew the answer from our conversation. I would have thought my response made the asking redundant."

"I think not," Viktor contested with a shake of his head. "Somethings should be clear between two people. Do you not agree?"

"Was that your question?" Hermione asked with a raise of her brow, and Viktor laughed.

"No," he said, and he drifted a warm hand over her side as if reminding her he could tickle her into submission at any point. "I wanted to ask if you would be my girlfriend, properly this time, like I had planned to."

"Before I ruined it you mean?"

"That is not what I said."

"You implied it."

"Hermione!" he cut in with mock exasperation, "please can you answer my question?"

Hermione's teeth pressed into her bottom lip as she curled into him. "Yes, Viktor, I would like to be your girlfriend. Very much."

Whatever Viktor was going to say in response was cut off by a tell-tale clatter ringing out from the hall beyond the door that separated them from the real world. Viktor sighed and pulled Hermione in for a hug before the rest of the house could besiege them. "Have a good journey back to school, my girlfriend."

Hermione returned his embrace fiercely before Viktor pulled away from her, giving himself enough space so he could draw an arm between them and rub his thumb along her bottom lip before pressing his mouth against hers achingly slowly. Hermione pushed herself up onto her tiptoes until she couldn't hold herself up any longer. But before she could inch away, Viktor's arm snaked around her middle and held her to him.

Eventually, they parted, and Viktor pressed a kiss against her forehead and twisted a hand into her curls before he backed away quickly. "I will speak to you soon," he promised as he left the room without looking back. He'd done the same thing when he left her before, Hermione realised, as she had stood outside the gates of Hogwarts and watched him the whole way until he joined his ship. It had felt like rejection then. Hermione understood it more this time. She forced the 'don't go' that threatened to leave her lips back down into her chest, where it felt like it burned her lungs. But she wouldn't say it. It wasn't fair.

Hermione was left standing alone in the living room with the horrible moth-eaten sofa as she focused on the noise outside, as she waited for the front door to shut. She had the familiar, horrible sensation of prickling at the corner of her eyes that grew stronger every time she tried to ignore it. If anyone asked she would say she was tired of all the dust and refuse to comment any further even if they never believed it.

When the final lock clicked back into place and feet began to beat a retreat, Hermione sagged where she stood. That was until the door flew open and she was attacked by a red-haired mass moving at incredible speed.

"Don't look so glum, you're officially the envy of most girls on the planet at the moment," Ginny said with a wide grin as she pushed Hermione's hair back off her face and pinched her cheeks. Hermione imagined that was a sign she looked drawn. She tried to rally with the comfort of Ginny's care, but the overwhelming urge to pout would not be abated.

"I don't care about that," she replied despondently, "I just wish he could stay, or that I could see him more easily."

"I know, Hermione that's why you're his girlfriend," Ginny said with an affectionate roll of her eyes before she stood behind Hermione and began to push on her shoulders. "Come on. I'm sure we can convince Remus to give you some of his chocolate stash if we ask nicely."

"The dark stuff?" Hermione asked, feeling more hopeful.

"I think we'd need a limb missing for that, but I'm pretty sure he'd offer up some of the milk if you give him your saddest face-" Hermione turned, ready to offer her thanks "-just like that," Ginny said and pushed her into the kitchen.

Viktor dropped his bag by the back door in the kitchen and walked through his quiet home in search of his parents. They were out on the veranda at the back of the property overlooking the rose garden and enjoying the afternoon sun. His father was sitting behind an open paper, no doubt reading the obituaries with not a care that everyone else found the habit morbid, and his mother was working at a large table that must have been brought out there for use.

"Viktor! You're home," she greeted with delight as he walked onto the patio.

"Mama," he replied warmly, stopping to kiss her on the cheek. "What are you doing?"

She sighed. "Somehow, I agreed to finalise the table plan for the upcoming ministry charity gala. Ana and Mirela could not agree on anything, and Lidiya has had a falling out with Antonia over the proper amount of tulips to use in the garlands. So I find myself in the precarious position of being the only one on the committee most people are talking to, for now at least."

His father folded his paper and pulled out a seat, which Viktor gratefully took, sagging a little under the weight of Grigor's hand as it was suddenly placed on his shoulder.

Sofiya picked up another tacky orange strip, representing some rich person or other, and deftly moved it to the other side of the complicated looking board. "I got a great education, and this is what I use it for," she sighed before pulling up all of the tabs on another table with a snort of disgust.

"Do not be so ridiculous darling," his father admonished, "without you, it would be out and out war at every benefit we have to attend, and it's not as if these things are the sum of all your talents."

Viktor wished he could have been spared the horror of seeing his mother blush at his father's compliment, but he was sat directly opposite, so there was no escape. Thankfully, relatively speaking at least, the conversation quickly turned to the Order and his stay with Hermione. Viktor related all that he could, which wasn't much. He hadn't been around the adults a great deal, though he supposed it was some comfort they were taking security seriously, given they would be responsible for Hermione's care for the foreseeable future.

"And what of Grimmauld Place?" His mother asked with interest. "My Great Aunt visited it once, a lifetime ago now. It must have been when Walburga and Orion Black got married. She said the townhouse was rather beautiful, in an old-world kind of way."

"It is…" Viktor began hesitantly before ordering what he wanted to say in his mind. "Its… charms have faded after quite a few years of neglect." He didn't want to go into too much detail. If his mother had any idea what Grimmauld was like, she would have seen it burned to the ground before she let her only child stay there. Viktor thought the inhabitants were far more deadly than the house itself, but his mother would not likely see it the same way.

"Wonderful," she replied absently, fiddling with two tags that were next to each other but not moving them. "Your father and I have often discussed buying an older property to renovate. Something to sink or teeth into now that work on this house is largely complete."

Viktor took one look at his father and confirmed that this was definitely news to Grigor and so he wisely kept his mouth shut.

"I must go and send an owl or three," she said as she stood to head back into the house. "I am glad you are back, my son. Will you be home for dinner after training?"

"Yes, Mama."

Viktor turned as his mother disappeared inside and helped himself to some lemonade that still felt cool despite the heat of the day.

"You enjoyed your stay?" his father asked with interest before shaking his head when Viktor silently offered him a glass.

"Yes, Papa."

"Even though it was a shithole?"

His keen observation was enough to startle a laugh out of Viktor. "How did you know?"

His father shrugged though his eyes fell onto his paper that was now resting over his mothers work, to protect her carefully made plans. "Rebellions rarely care about creature comforts; in fact, they tend to shun them actively. It makes them appear more moral, 'look at what we suffer for what is right'."

"You do not sound approving?" Viktor observed.

His father reached for his coffee. "I agree with their ideas, I am no staunch conservative, but their application is lacking. Dumbledore was a prominent figure in the fight against Grindelwald, at least at the end. He understands the other side in ways most of us can't, but I see no evidence that he uses that knowledge to his advantage."

Grigor must have recognised the intrigue Viktor couldn't disguise as he smiled at him before ruffling his hair. "There is much I have to teach you still. I hope I have enough time to give you all the remaining important lessons before life does."

A few days after his return, Viktor was half-convinced that his coach was trying to kill him to make up for his missed training sessions. It was the only thing that could have accounted for the number of drills they'd had to work through that morning. The only comfort he'd had, as he was charging directly into one of their bat-wielding beaters for the third time, was that Hermione had sent him a letter which he had saved to read when he got home.

Viktor collapsed onto the bed in his room after he had used the last of his energy to have an ice bath and then walk it off. He pulled out Hermione's letter, fully intending to find peace within its pages before he drifted off to sleep. However, once he reached the halfway point on the second page, he felt as if he had been thrust into burningly cold water again.

At first, Hermione wrote as if little had changed since her last letter, she spoke of fights with the twins, Remus and Tonks' 'relationship' being spoken of often by Molly, and Luna heading home with her father until a new section started. It was unlike Hermione to suddenly being a new topic in the middle of a letter, but as soon as Viktor's eyes darted down the next paragraph, her distraction was explained. Harry's planned hearing had somehow become a full trial, in front of the entire Wizengamot and though he had seemingly been exonerated, Viktor read each line with growing alarm.

He remembered the feeling of waking up on the damp Quidditch pitch in the dark, surrounded by people that believed the worst of him. His heart was pulled along as much by Hermione's unusually sloppy writing - showing her frustration and worry - as her words.

Before he thought to reply, Viktor gathered up the letter and walked to his father's study, all earlier fatigue forgotten. The change of plan at the ministry felt like something important, a single drop of water maybe, but one that was part of an ever-changing tide.

His father had been different that summer, since the last task of the Triwizard. At times he could be preoccupied and secretive, at others he wanted to speak to Viktor as much as possible, to impart things without explanation for their relevance or get his son's take on the news of the day before offering his own, more nuanced, opinion. Whatever was going on, Viktor felt he would feel more at peace when his father knew of it, and hopefully, he would be able to impart some of that ease onto Hermione.

"Sir?" he knocked on the open door, and his father stepped away from the bookcase where he was searching among the stacks.

"Viktor?" his mother greeted, walking over from the window seat. Viktor hadn't seen her when he first came in, though he wasn't surprised, they often worked together during the day. "I thought you would be resting after training. What is it?"

He knew from his mother's concerned expression that he wasn't doing an excellent job of hiding his agitation. "I've had a letter from Hermione. It is easiest if you read it."

Viktor handed his father the short stack of parchment with the relevant page on top. He trusted his parents not to read what was beyond their interest, not that Hermione was of the overly floral persuasion.

Grigor skimmed through the page with a grave countenance before handing it back and leaning on his desk. "Thank you for showing me this Viktor, but you must not worry. Potter has the backing of Dumbledore; he will be fine."

"You are sure?"

"I am."

Viktor folded the letter and placed it back into his pocket, but he was reluctant to leave, there was something else, a shadow that had fallen over his father's face that he wanted to be explained, but he wasn't in the habit of questioning his parent's motives.

His mother looked between them before she took him by the shoulder. "Viktor, why don't you go and rest? You are barely standing."

Viktor agreed, and after a short goodnight, he walked back out of the door, though once he got into the corridor, he hovered. The act made him feel eight years old if he got caught he would feel even more childish, but there was a concern in the centre of his stomach, something that would not settle until he knew more.

"It's happening again, isn't it?" He heard his mother's muffled voice just clear enough for him to make out. "The government will do nothing?"

"It would appear they are picking a different battle to hide the real ones from public view."

There was silence and then the sound of clinking glass and his mother's heels across the parkay flooring. "How far do you think it will come this time? Europe?"

"I do not know for certain, who can? But Voldemort is a fool if he doesn't at least attempt to acquire Grindlewald's old supporters. Half of his own are imprisoned, and most that remain here could be converted to his cause with ease."

"But what would be the allure of power in England be to people who have probably never even left their own towns let alone their country?"

"It would be the beginning, an example, a victory that could become a franchise that could be packaged and dispatched all over the world."

"You sound very sure for someone that declares he is not certain," his mother observed shrewdly, and Viktor could imagine his father shrugging.

"These things always follow patterns; my father taught me that. This time it will not matter if they cross the sea. Viktor has made his choice, Hermione staying here would not have gone unnoticed. We will be dragged into it at some point."

The room beyond the door fell silent, and Viktor crept away. He had never considered that inviting Hermione would have had ramifications in the brewing conflict. Though whatever his father's plan was for riding out the seemingly unavoidable war, he hadn't advised Viktor not to invite her.

Viktor was not a man accustomed to inaction, and so it took him longer than usual to fall asleep. He promised himself that in the morning, he would start researching more effective ways of communicating with Hermione, he sensed there might come a time when they would need to communicate with expediency and privacy.

Viktor told himself it was just the war and his concern for Hermione that made him think such a thing was necessary. It certainly wasn't how a letter could never reflect the exact hue of the freckles across her nose - darker now after being in the sun - or the way her hair bounced and flayed in such a way that it almost made a sound. Certainly not.

A/N: Sorry for the delay readers! A combination of hayfever, baby induced exhaustion and the launch of Stranger Things 3 (which I have played a little tribute to above). In the next chapter, Harry is angry, Ron is conciliatory and Sirius wants to help.