Chapter Twenty-Two: The Unexpected Task

Hermione got to work.

After listening to Dobby and Winky, she knew she'd have to do much more research, especially on Stockholm Syndrome and the psychological trauma of slavery. While Dobby was much more independent and based in reality than Winky, he still obviously struggled with badmouthing his former owners. Hermione hadn't realised their brainwashing was so complete that it led to self-flagellation.

Hermione grabbed some toast in the Great Hall and set off for the Library. At first glance, the Library seemed blissfully deserted (except for Madam Pince at the circulation desk). She perused the stacks, grabbing a book here and there. When her stack of books got almost too big to carry, Hermione scooped them up and walked over to her favourite nook in the library. She could barely see over the pile in her hands, but she made her way purely from muscle memory, and could glance around the pile occasionally to ensure she was in a straight line.

As she rounded the last corner towards the alcove, Hermione ran into a brick wall… which was very confusing because there wasn't supposed to be a brick wall anywhere near that alcove. The books went flying on top of Hermione, who had fallen backwards from the impact.

"Are you okay?" came Viktor Krum's heavily accented voice from above her.

"You again?" Hermione muttered as she sat up and started gathering her books. Viktor bent down and started to help her. "It's ok, I've got it," Hermione said, hoping he didn't recognise her from the last time.

"I help, I help," Viktor said, stacking the books faster than Hermione could even dream. "Vere do you vant this?" he asked, standing with the pile of books stacked easily in one hand.

"Oh, over here, please," Hermione said, leading him to her alcove. "Thank you."

"Dis is my favourite place," Krum said as he put the books down. "Quiet and calm."

"Mine, too."

"I see you here lots," Viktor said. "You must be smartest girl at Hogvarts."

Hermione blushed in spite of herself. "I'm pretty close to the top of the class, yes."

"Vat subject do you study best?"

"Oh, I love Arithmancy," Hermione said.

"Dat is, how do you call, numerologiya?"

"Numerology?" Hermione guessed. "Yes! That's exactly what it is."

"I, too, study numerology," Viktor said, again mispronouncing it slightly. "Numbers are same in all languages. Numbers are constant."

"I agree!" Hermione gushed. "You can't second guess numbers. They are always the same."

"Vat is 'second guess' mean?"

Hermione took a second to think about a simple meaning of the idiom. "To question or doubt?"

"Ah, yes," Viktor said. "I understand. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

There was an awkward silence as the two Arithmancy lovers stood there, looking at each other.

"Well," Hermione said, breaking the silence, "I suppose I should get to my research." She half-heartedly pointed to the stack Viktor had helped her with.

"How is your teeth?"

Hermione's cheeks burned in embarrassment. He did remember. "Oh, they're fine."

"Dey are beautiful. Like snow," Viktor said with a strange look in his eye.

Hermione wasn't exactly sure how to answer. She settled on "Thank you," but it just sounded awkward.

"You studying numbers today?" Viktor asked, apparently ignoring her non-polished social skills.

"Erm, actually, no," she said. "I am just doing some research."

"Please, can I ask for vat?"

Hermione bit her tongue. How could she explain S.P.E.W. to an international Quidditch star who probably had hundreds of House-Elves at his service? "I am researching something called 'Stockholm Syndrome,' which is-"

"I am very familiar," Viktor said. "Some things transcend languages. Like numbers."

Hermione hated to admit how impressed she was.

Viktor continued, "I read of it in old newspaper and thought of Karkaroff and us students. Very interesting things. Your headmaster also is, how do you call… Eh… tiranichen is Bulgarian vord. To control?"

"Tyrannical?" Hermione guessed.

"Yes, tyrannical," Viktor nodded, noting the pronunciation.

Hermione chuckled to herself. How to explain her complex thoughts on Dumbledore? "No, I don't think Professor Dumbledore is anything like Karkaroff. Well, he is sometimes manipulative and talks in riddles, but I don't think he's a tyrant by any means." Except that he enslaves House-Elves, Hermione thought.

"You are lucky, smartest girl," Viktor said. "You also do not know who I am. Dat makes me, how do you call, amused."

"Oh, I know who you are," Hermione said.

"Not Durmstrang Champion," Viktor said. "I am-"

"The Bulgarian Seeker? Yes, I was at the Quidditch World Cup."

"And yet you talk to me normal?" Viktor said, astonished.

"Why wouldn't I?" Hermione challenged. "We're both just students trying to get through school."

"No, no! I am much happy to be treated like student!" Viktor said. "Especially by beautiful, smart girl like you."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. She hadn't felt like this with anyone but Ron. There was something in the way Viktor looked at her that was different to how Ron looked at her, though she couldn't quite place it.

"You know me, but I do not know you," Viktor said. "Vat is your name, smartest girl?"

"Hermione Granger."

"Hermy-own?"

"No, Hermione. Her-my-oh-nee."

"I just call you smartest girl, eh? My English not so good."

Hermione blushed. "Okay."

"I ask you question?" Viktor said. "May I keep company vith you studying? Erm, researching?"

Hermione blushed again. "Sure, but I'm sure it won't be very entertaining just to watch me read these books. I don't like to talk while I read."

"No talking is fine. I promise silence," Viktor said, staring at her with a soft smile. "Just honoured to sit vith Hogvart's smartest girl."

Hermione self-consciously took the few steps over to the chair and table, sliding the stack of books along the length so they were in front of her. Keeping Viktor in the corner of her eye, she sat down and took out some fresh parchment and her favourite quill. She reached up and grabbed the first book on the stack, opening it to the index to start her research.

Viktor sat opposite Hermione and slid the stack of books towards the alcove's entrance. He then divided the piles into two, basically blocking them from anyone casually walking into the library.

"For privacy," Viktor said with a smile. "Sometimes girls find me here."

"I've noticed," Hermione scowled.

"But I am glad I found you instead."

Hermione's cheeks grew hot once more as she tried to focus back on the book.

Viktor's promise proved to be true. He didn't talk once during the three hours Hermione spent going through the stack of books. He just sat there, seemingly content to quietly watch her study. If she were honest, it was both extraordinarily unnerving and incredibly flattering. Somewhere around hour two, she realised the difference between how Viktor looked at her and how Ron looked at her: Viktor looked at her like a woman, and Ron looked at her like a girl. Hermione wasn't sure how that made her feel, and the uncertainty was quite thrilling.

"I suppose I should finish up for the day," Hermione said, closing the last book in her stack.

"Did you learn much?" Viktor asked in earnest.

"I did, actually," Hermione said.

"I am glad, but dere is more to learn, yes?"

"Always," she said.

"Then I meet you again tomorrow here?"

"Are you sure you don't mind just sitting there and watching me study?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, no mind at all," Viktor said with a slight bow of his head. "Until tomorrow, smartest girl." Before Hermione knew what was happening, he kissed her hand. The Quidditch star then stood and stalked out of the alcove (presumably back to the Durmstrang ship), leaving Hermione to wonder if it was all just a very peculiar dream.

"Potter! Weasley! Will you pay attention?"

Professor McGonagall's irritated voice cracked like a whip through the Transfiguration class on Thursday, and Harry and Ron both jumped and looked up. It was the end of the lesson, and everyone but Hermione seemed to be thoroughly checked out. Harry and Ron were having a fake duel with some of Fred and George's fake wands.

It had been a fascinating lesson on how to turn guinea fowls into guinea pigs which Hermione aced on only her second try. She was looking forward to their homework assignment: "Describe, with examples, the ways in which Transforming Spells must be adapted when performing Cross-Species Switches."

"Now that Potter and Weasley have been kind enough to act their age," said Professor McGonagall, with an angry look at the pair of them, "I have something to say to you all.

"The Yule Ball is approaching – a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialise with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open only to fourth-years and above – although you may invite a younger student if you wish –"

Lavender let out a shrill giggle that made Hermione cringe. Parvati nudged her hard in the ribs, her face working furiously as she fought not to giggle.

"Dress robes will be worn," Professor McGonagall continued, "and the ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight, in the Great Hall. Now then –"

Professor McGonagall stared deliberately around the class.

"The Yule Ball is, of course, a chance for us all to – er – let our hair down," she said in a disapproving voice. "But that does NOT mean," Professor McGonagall went on, "that we will be relaxing the standards of behaviour we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be most seriously displeased if a Gryffindor student embarrasses the school in any way."

The bell rang, and there was the usual scuffle of activity as everyone packed their bags and swung them onto their shoulders.

Professor McGonagall called above the noise, "Potter – a word, if you please."

Hermione said goodbye to Harry and walked out of class with Ron.

"What's that about?" Ron asked, jerking his thumb back towards the Transfiguration classroom.

"Maybe something with the tournament?" Hermione said and then, with a slight pause, added. "Or the Yule Ball?" She looked directly at him to gauge his reaction. Hermione had realised as soon as the words left Professor McGonagall's mouth that she wanted nothing more in the world than for Ron to take her to the ball.

"It sounds pretty stupid if you ask me," Ron said.

"I didn't ask you," Hermione said quickly. Ron looked confused for a few moments until Harry came out, and the focus shifted.

"So?" Ron asked.

Harry looked a bit green. "McGonagall said that, as a champion, I have to find a partner to take to the ball and dance with them."

"She what?" Ron said incredulously.

"Yeah," Harry said. "I have no idea who to ask… or how to dance, for that matter."

"Don't look at me, mate," Ron said. "I can't help you with either."

Just then, a group of girls walked past them, sniggering and staring at Harry. "Why do they have to move in packs?" Harry asked. "How're you supposed to get one on their own to ask them?"

"Lasso one?" Ron suggested.

Hermione wanted to shout that she was standing right there, that they could ask her how to dance, ask her how to ask a girl to the ball, or, perhaps even ask her to the ball! Instead, she let out an exasperated sigh and silently walked away, pausing briefly to turn around, only to see that the two boys hadn't noticed her absence.

She headed to the comfort of the library to bury her hurt feelings inside the pages of as many books as she could get through. Her heart fluttered a bit as she rounded the corner to her alcove, hoping to see Viktor there, but it was empty. Oddly (though she wasn't complaining), her stacks of books were left at the table from the day before, and Hermione could start where she left off.

Hermione had decided that she needed to focus on the House-Elves in order to get them to realise how horribly they are treated and, therefore, could become advocates for themselves and help her recruit Witches and Wizards to help them. Witches and Wizards who had grown up in the Wizarding World, like Ron, couldn't get behind her efforts 100% because they thought House-Elves actually liked to be enslaved. If they started to rise up, though, rational and kind people like the Weasleys would completely change their tunes.

Or, at least, she hoped they would.

Likewise, as many issues as she had with some of Dumbledore's methods, the Wizarding World would take notice if he started to pay more House-Elves. She just had to convince them to ask for wages.

At about half past eight, Hermione decided to head back to the dorms to start on her homework. As she passed through the Gryffindor Common Room, she didn't see Ron or Harry, which, she supposed, was for the best. She had a lot of homework to do anyways.

When she reached her room, however, Hermione could tell she would barely get any work done. Lavender and Parvati were in one of their giggling moods and would be obnoxiously loud all night. Hermione decided to grab her books and head over to one of her favourite haunts from the previous year, when she had the Time-Turner and needed to hide so no one saw two Hermiones running around. Despite her disinterest, she couldn't help but overhear their frivolous conversation as she packed her bag.

"And I heard Dumbledore booked the Weird Sisters!" Lavender squealed.

"No way!" Parvati exclaimed. "I love them! Padma and I got to go to one of their concerts this summer." Padma was Parvati's twin sister who was sorted into Ravenclaw.

"It's going to be positively dreamy to dance to them live at the Ball," Lavender said wistfully. "I've only listened to them on the WWN."

"What's the WWN?" Hermione asked, silently cursing herself for allowing her curiosity to get the best of her.

"The Wizarding Wireless Network," Parvati said as if speaking to a child. Hermione was slightly put off by Parvati's tone.

"Oh, ok," Hermione said. "Thanks."

"Are you excited about the Yule Ball?" Lavender asked.

"Oh, I guess so," Hermione said. "It sounds interesting, anyways."

"Are you and Harry going to coordinate your dress robes?" Parvati asked, and Hermione noticed a hint of coldness in her voice.

"Why on earth would we do that?" Hermione asked.

"Well, you are dating, aren't you?" Lavender said.

"You could have told us," said Parvati.

Hermione looked at the two of them as if they had each sprouted extra heads. "I am not dating Harry Potter," she said firmly. "We are best friends but nothing more."

"That's not what the Daily Prophet has been saying," Parvati said.

Hermione shrugged. "I can't control the lies Rita Skeeter writes."

"Just tell us!" Lavender said. "I always thought you liked Ron more than Harry."

"I-"

"Is that why Ron wasn't talking to Harry?" Lavender gushed. "Because you two were dating behind his back, and he was jealous?"

"Nothing of the sort!" Hermione sputtered.

"I'm just hurt you didn't tell us," Parvati said. "I had to find out in the papers. I thought we were friends."

Hermione nearly shook herself to see if she was asleep and dreaming this whole scenario. "Well, we are," she said hesitantly. "Of course we are, but-"

"But we had to read about your first boyfriend," Parvati incorrectly finished for her.

"Oh, honestly," Hermione protested. "I am not dating Harry Potter, nor do I have any desire to! Now, if it is okay with you two, I am going to go do some actual work."

"Just admit it," Lavender said. "You're going to secretly meet Harry."

"Think whatever you want," Hermione spat. "I'm not going to defend myself from these lies any longer." And, with that, Hermione stormed out of the room.

Hermione successfully hid in her tower window long enough that when she returned to her room, Lavender and Parvati had gone to sleep. She made sure to get up early enough the following day to leave the room before they woke up. Hermione had no idea how to deal with them and, quite frankly, didn't want to; they obviously weren't going to believe their own friend over a tacky gossip rag. She should have realised that when the pair completely fell for Professor Trelawny's antics in Divination last year.

Word of the Weird Sisters' performance and the order of eight hundred barrels of mulled mead spread like wildfire throughout the school. Most of the students could talk of nothing but the Yule Ball.

Some teachers, like little Professor Flitwick, gave up trying to teach them much when their minds were so clearly elsewhere; he allowed them to play games in his lesson on Wednesday. Other teachers realised the necessity for learning even in the face of diversions like the Yule Ball. Professor Binns, for example, continued going through his notes on goblin rebellions. Professors McGonagall and Moody kept them working until the very last second of their classes, too. Snape would no sooner let them play games in class than give Hermione any credit for correctly answering all of his questions. Staring nastily around at them all, he informed them that he would be testing them on poison antidotes during the last lesson of the term.

"Evil, he is," Ron said bitterly that night in the Gryffindor Common Room. "Springing a test on us on the last day. Ruining the last bit of term with a whole load of revision."

"Mmm, you're not exactly straining yourself, though, are you?" said Hermione, looking at him over the top of her Potions notes. Ron was busy building a card castle out of his Exploding Snap pack – a much more exciting pastime than with Muggle cards because of the chance that the whole thing would blow up at any second.

"It's Christmas, Hermione," said Harry lazily.

Hermione looked severely over at him, too. "I'd have thought you'd be doing something constructive, Harry, even if you don't want to learn your antidotes!"

"Like what?" Harry said.

"That egg!" Hermione hissed.

"Come on, Hermione, I've got 'til February the twenty-fourth," Harry said.

"But it might take weeks to work it out!" said Hermione. "You're going to look a real idiot if everyone else knows what the next task is, and you don't!"

"Leave him alone, Hermione, he's earned a bit of a break," said Ron, and he placed the last two cards on top of the castle, and the whole lot blew up, singeing his eyebrows. Hermione was just about to tell him how much it served him right, but thankfully, the Weasley twins did her dirty work.

"Nice look, Ron ... go well with your dress robes, that will," said Fred.

They sat down at the table with Harry, Ron and Hermione as Ron felt how much damage had been done.

"Ron, can we borrow Pigwidgeon?" George asked.

"No, he's off delivering a letter," said Ron. "Why?"

"Because George wants to invite him to the ball," said Fred sarcastically.

"Because we want to send a letter, you stupid great prat," said George.

"Who d'you two keep writing to, eh?" said Ron.

"Nose out, Ron, or I'll burn that for you, too," said Fred, waving his wand threateningly. "So, you lot got dates for the ball yet?" Hermione's cheeks immediately grew hot.

"Nope," said Ron, and Hermione had to look away for fear her face would betray her.

"Well, you'd better hurry up, mate or all the good ones will be gone," said Fred.

"Who're you going with, then?" said Ron.

"Angelina," said Fred promptly, without a trace of embarrassment.

"What?" said Ron, taken aback. "You've already asked her?"

"Good point," said Fred. He turned his head and called across the Common Room, "Oi! Angelina!"

Angelina, who had been chatting to Alicia Spinnet near the fire, looked over at him.

"What?" she called back.

"Want to come to the ball with me?"

Angelina gave Fred an appraising sort of look.

"All right, then," she said, and she turned back to Alicia and carried on chatting with a bit of a grin.

"There you go," said Fred to Harry and Ron. "Piece of cake."

He got to his feet, yawning, and said, "We'd better use a school owl then, George, come on."

They left. Hermione held her breath. Was this going to be it? Was he finally going to ask her? She tried to smooth out her bushy hair and smiled widely to show off her normal-sized teeth. Her heart started racing.

"We should get a move on, you know. Ask someone. He's right. We don't want to end up with a pair of trolls," Ron said.

Hermione let out a splutter of indignation. "A pair of... what, excuse me?"

"Well – you know," said Ron, shrugging, "I'd rather go alone than with – with Eloise Midgen, say."

"Her acne's loads better lately – and she's really nice!"

"Her nose is off-centre," said Ron.

"Oh, I see," Hermione said, bristling. "So basically, you're going to take the best-looking girl who'll have you, even if she's completely horrible?"

"Er – yeah, that sounds about right," said Ron.

"I'm going to bed," Hermione snapped, and she swept off towards the girls' staircase without another word. She willed herself not to cry until she got up to her room. Luckily, she was successful, and the tears started flowing only when she closed the curtains to her four-poster bed. Hormones were awful.

The next morning, Hermione knew she needed to be by herself. She couldn't bear to see Ron and Harry; frankly, she feared what she would say to them. Instead, she decided to go to the library to work on some homework and, if there was time, do a bit more research for S.P.E.W.

Hermione headed straight to her alcove and was again surprised to see the stacks of her books there on the table. She hesitated; should she check on Madam Pince? Was she ok? Had anyone seen her recently? It was just not like the librarian to leave books out for an hour, let alone several days in a row.

In the end, Hermione decided to go into her nook and deal with Madam Pince later. As she stepped in, however, she realised the alcove was already occupied.

"Smartest girl!" Viktor Krum smiled. "I hope you come today."

"What are you doing up so early?" Hermione stuttered.

"Morning is favourite for me," Viktor said.

"Same here."

"You studying numbers today?"

"Actually, I am," said Hermione brightly.

"May I sit vith you?"

"Sure," she said, still slightly unnerved by his preoccupation with her, though a part of her found it endearing. She pulled out a chair opposite Viktor and got settled, pulling out her school books and some parchment and putting them next to the stack of books. However, Hermione struggled to focus on her work with Viktor staring at her. She kept sneaking looks at him from above the top of her book- his soft, dark eyes were just so mesmerising and expressive. She also noticed how his strong jaw seemed to flex whenever he swallowed. Her heart started to flutter inside her chest, and she was acutely aware of every breath he took.

"It's so odd that Madam Pince left these books here," Hermione said, trying to drown out the flutter of her heart and fill the awkward silence. "Usually, she tries to put books away while you're still reading them."

"I asked special favour," Viktor explained. "Traded her autograph so books can stay."

"Oh?" Hermione asked, perplexed.

"Yes, for your research," Viktor explained. "And my hiding." Viktor smiled at her, and Hermione felt her insides start to melt.

Silence fell again, and Hermione tried desperately to think of something to say. Of course, the one time she wished for her famous ranting rambles, words failed her. She searched her brain for anything to say, but it was completely blank. Just as she contemplated reading a random question from her Arithmancy textbook, Viktor sat up and leaned in towards her over the table.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, an excited and goofy smile spreading over his face. "I forgot. I haff gift for you."

"For me?" Hermione said.

"Yes, for my smartest girl," Viktor said, and Hermione couldn't help but hang on to the word "my" in his broken sentence. Viktor reached into the brown fur side bag hanging off his chair and pulled something out in his closed hands. "Shut eyes. I surprise you," he whispered. Hermione had no idea why, but she immediately felt goose pimples dotting her arms.

She did as instructed and closed her eyes, sensing Viktor inching closer. Soon, she could feel his breath on her face. Hermione froze, not knowing what to do or how she was feeling.

"Ok, open eyes," Viktor whispered again.

Hermione slowly pulled her eyes apart, and Viktor's face was inches from hers. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to be looking at. With a wink, Viktor looked down, and Hermione followed his lead. There, in his hands, was a miniature version of the Chinese Firebolt he had fought in the first task. While so small it could easily fit in Viktor's hands, it moved as if it were full-sized, even snorting a bit of fire like its real counterpart.

"My Chinese Firebolt," Viktor said as if Hermione didn't already recognise it. "I give to you. Just like I fight dragon, I fight for heart of smartest girl in Hogvarts."

It took a few moments for Hermione to realise what Viktor was implying, but as soon as she did, Hermione blushed and looked away. She felt Viktor's surprisingly soft hands on her chin as he guided her face back to his. Hermione's brain went completely blank, and her heart fluttered against her chest.

"Vill you honour me as my date to Ball?" Viktor asked softly.

"Yes," Hermione said before she even gave it a thought.

"Thank you," Viktor said. "I am honoured to take the smartest and most beautiful girl at Hogwarts to Yule Ball." He paused and looked at Hermione pointedly. "May I kiss you?"

Hermione froze. She had never kissed anyone before. A distant thought of Ron materialised in her head. She had always hoped he would be her first kiss if she were honest with herself. However, the memory of Ron talking about how girls were trolls popped into her head, and without another thought, Hermione leaned into Viktor's lips.

The kiss didn't last long, but Viktor seemed to be pleased. On the other hand, Hermione had no idea if the kiss was good since she had nothing to compare it to. After Viktor went in for a second, third, and fourth kiss, however, Hermione could rationally hypothesise that she was a good kisser.

Viktor was nothing but a gentleman, however. After a few more kisses, he sat back and encouraged Hermione to start on her homework. Usually, Hermione wouldn't need any encouragement to do her homework… but that was before. Somewhere between kisses, Hermione felt as though she had matured drastically, as irrational as that seemed. She felt… different.

For the first time in her life, Hermione felt genuinely beautiful.

The international Quidditch star that had nearly every girl swooning over him picked her because he thought she was smart and beautiful.

She knew she had a ways to go - her teeth were better, but her hair needed a lot of work. Her clothing seemed suddenly juvenile and boring… but her first kiss was from Viktor Krum. People all over the world, including Ron Weasley, paid money for a miniature doll of the person who just kissed her.

She tried as hard as she could to focus on her Arithmancy, but every slight movement Viktor made caught her eye. She couldn't help but hope he was coming in for another kiss. The feeling of being desired by someone else was intoxicating. She had never experienced it before and wanted more. She giddily thought it was similar to what she felt when she learned she was a Witch; she wanted to experience all of it, all at once, and as much as humanly possible.

Every time she'd look up from her homework, Viktor would be sitting there, just staring at her with a cute, content look on his face, like she was all he needed in the world to be happy. No one had ever made her feel like that before. No one had wanted to be with her just for the sake of just being with her before, either.

Hermione needed to distract herself so she wouldn't just throw herself at Viktor again for another kiss. She started thinking about logistics. Harry mentioned that the Champions had to lead the dance at the Yule Ball, so there was probably some official entrance for the four Champions and their partners. That meant Hermione would be the centre of attention, especially because everyone would be curious about who Viktor would partner with. Because of that, she'd need a much nicer pair of dress robes than Mrs Weasley had picked up for her in Diagon Alley while they were at the Quidditch World Cup (they certainly weren't as bad as Ron's, but they were not "international Quidditch Star's partner" level). Hermione didn't know the first thing about picking out dress robes that would warrant that level of sophistication. She'd also have to start researching in earnest about different hair potions she could use. Lastly, she most certainly had to learn how to dance.

"Do you know how to dance?" Hermione blurted out mid-thought to Viktor.

"Yes," Viktor said. "We take dance for Quidditch. Helps with agility. You dance?"

"No," Hermione admitted. She started to feel herself panic and ramble. "But I can learn! I'm a really fast learner, and even though I am not really that athletic, I can move pretty well, and if I am shown some diagrams, perhaps, I can-"

Viktor stopped her mouth and brain with a long, soft kiss.

"If you cannot dance, you stand on my feet, and I dance. Okay?"

"Okay," said Hermione, a bashful smile on her newly kissed lips.

All was well with the world in that instant. Kissing was the perfect antidote to all of her panic attack problems.

After a few more hours of pretending to study in the moments between kisses, Viktor's stomach made a loud gurgling sound. "I'm hungry," he said simply.

"Oh, I guess we could go to the Great Hall and get some lunch," Hermione said, but suddenly started to panic. Was she really ready to face the student population as Viktor Krum's girl… What was she? A girlfriend? A girl that was a friend that kissed a lot?

"You come to my ship, maybe?"

Hermione hadn't thought of that. "I would love to!"

"Good. On ship, there are no fans," Viktor explained. "No interruptions."

Viktor grabbed her hand in his and pulled her up out of her chair in one fell swoop. He dipped her back and gave her a quick kiss, and then the pair (couple?) walked hand in hand out of the Library. Hermione led the way through the least occupied parts of Hogwarts Castle until they found a door to the grounds. It was absolutely freezing outside despite the bright sun shining through the cloudless sky. Hermione cursed herself for not bringing a sweater or something. She shivered in spite of herself, and before she could take another step, Viktor had draped her shoulders with his thick fur coat. It was huge on her but incredibly warm. The deep musky smell was also intoxicating.

"Better, Hermy-own?" Viktor said.

"Hermione," she corrected. "And yes, thank you."

"Anything for my smartest girl."

He grabbed her hand again (he had to slip his hand up the sleeve a bit to find it) and they walked towards the lake in an easy silence. As they approached, she realised there wasn't really any visible way to get onto the ship from the banks. Viktor noticed her confusion and winked.

"Pontemium," he said, flourishing his wand towards the ship. As if out of thin air, a narrow bridge materialised from the bank to an open port door on the ship's side. It was too narrow for them to walk side by side, so Viktor stepped aside and gestured to Hermione to take the lead. She hesitantly stepped onto the bridge, surprised at how solid it felt under her feet. From the looks of it, she expected it to sway as she walked. Nonetheless, she felt a bit dizzy, but could feel Viktor right behind her, ready to catch her if she fell.

As Hermione stepped from the bridge to the ship, she was immediately impressed at how warmly the vessel seemed to be decorated. Instead of the typical cool colours of a nautical decor, the Durmstrang Ship was full of rich woods and brilliant golds. The same maroon colour of their uniforms accented the gold pieces. It was like a very ornate and opulent Gryffindor Common Room.

A small group of Durmstrang students walked by in the corridor and gave Hermione and Viktor a double take. Hermione immediately felt incredibly self-conscious. They probably thought she had given Viktor a love spell or something. As soon as her hands went up to her hair to smooth it out, Viktor grabbed and kissed her hand. He called out to the other students and gestured to her. She had no idea what he was saying as he spoke in his native tongue, but the rest of the students immediately came up to introduce themselves.

Petar and Elena were some of the students who came up to welcome Hermione but, unlike the others, accompanied her and Viktor to the mess hall. From what she could gather from their behaviour, and the odd word here and there, Hermione figured out that Petar and Elena were Viktor's best friends. She could see the parallels between her, Harry, and Ron for sure.

The Durmstrang Mess Hall looked similar to what Hermione imagined the Mess Hall on a small river cruise ship would look like. Circular windows on either side of the room added some light to the dark, lavish wood interior. The small, round tables all had white crisp, pristine tablecloths and gold-rimmed place settings. A carafe of wine was on each table next to a vase of black roses.

The four of them sat down and Hermione noticed Petar and Elena were incredibly affectionate and, by the look of it, were probably dating. Did that mean she had her first kiss and first double date on the same day? Actually, she thought to herself, it was her first date, double or not. Things were moving so fast that Hermione's head was spinning.

Just then, just like at Hogwarts, food appeared on the gold-rimmed plates. On the salad plate was a beautiful arrangement of diced tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, and peppers with shredded white cheese on top. In the delicate crystal goblet appeared a pale golden liquid.

"Shopska salata," Viktor said. "And Rakia to drink. Nazdrave!"

"Nazdrave!" the other two echoed and all of them lifted the glass to their lips.

Hermione took a sip of the golden liquid and nearly choked. It burned the back of her throat, alerting her straight away it was some sort of spirit. If she had to guess, it was in the Brandy family, but she could barely taste anything over the burning sensation. She tried to play it off by taking a gulp of water, but by the amused looks on Petar and Elena's faces, they had noticed her shock.

"Keeps insides varm in snow," Elena said in an accent thicker than Viktor's. "Never freeze vith Rakia."

Hermione turned her attention to the salad and realised it tasted exactly how it looked.

"So, vat is Hogvarts like?" Petar asked. "Viktor, you translate."

"Hogwarts is amazing," Hermione said. "Loads of classes, and the professors are all quite good."

She paused as Viktor translated for his friends. He motioned for her to continue.

"Starting in our third year, we can take different elective classes. I tried to take them all last year, but it was too much for my schedule. I had to drop a few classes, but they weren't really that great to begin with: Divination and Muggle Studies. I'd much prefer Arithmancy," she said, winking at Viktor.

Viktor translated, and Hermione saw Petar and Elena flinch at a word that sounded like "Murkbreed."

"Viktor, what is 'Murkbreed?'" she asked.

"Ah, yes," he said. "You call it 'Muggle.'"

Hermione felt her heartbeat quicken. "Is there a problem with Muggles?"

"Some at Durmstrang haff issues, yes," Viktor said. He gestured to the table. "Ve do not, but ve thought Hogvarts likes Muggles? Vy make separate classes?"

"Oh, no, sorry," Hermione said. "It's not a class for Muggles, but a class about Muggles. Muggle-born students are mixed within the school and all classes."

Viktor translated, and she could see Petar and Elena nodding their heads in understanding. Watching him talk in his native language with his friends was intriguing. Viktor was much more animated when speaking the language he was comfortable in, and his eyes lit up much more than she had ever seen at Hogwarts, even when it was just the two of them.

Hermione was so focused on watching Viktor interact with his friends that she didn't notice the giant plate of fried straight-cut potatoes (they looked like the best thick chips she'd had) that appeared in the centre of the table. Just like the salad, the chips were covered in shredded white cheese.

"Yako!" Petar exclaimed and helped himself to a handful of fries.

"This is 'parzheni kartofi sas sirene' or PKS," Viktor said, grabbing a handful and putting it on Hermione's plate. The brined cheese was a perfect addition to the chips. She wasn't sure she could ever enjoy chips again without this cheese. She had to know what it was and asked Viktor.

"Ve call it 'sirene,'" he said, adding in a whisper, "Mnoh-goh see kra-see-vah."

"What does that mean?"

"You are very beautiful."

Hermione felt herself blush.

The main course was, according to Viktor, something called musaka. It consisted of a layer of mashed potatoes covered in a mixture of eggs, more potatoes, and minced pork meat and then topped with a thick yoghurt. It, too, was quite tasty, especially paired with the roundish flatbread Viktor called parlenka.

Elena asked Viktor something (Hermione could tell by the inflexion in her voice), and both he and Petar laughed heartily and looked over at Hermione.

"What?" Hermione asked, suddenly self-conscious.

"Nothing important," Viktor said, still smiling.

"What did she say?"

"Just she vonders, do you think you can cook this?"

Hermione was undoubtedly confused by the question but humoured them. She took another bite of the dish to try to discern the flavours. It seemed simple enough. "Sure, I could probably figure out how to make this," Hermione said. "Why?"

The three Durmstrang students laughed, and all winked. "In my country," Viktor said, "making good musaka means making good bride."

As with most of Viktor's flirtatious statements, Hermione had no idea how to reply. She looked down and smiled, taking a bite so she wouldn't be expected to respond.

A few minutes after they finished their lunch, Elena stood up and motioned to Hermione to follow her. Hermione excused herself and followed Elena into the corridor and off to the right. Elena pushed open a huge door to expose a small yet opulent lavatory.

"Ve freshen up, yes?" Elena said, pulling out some lipstick and rouge from her bag. Hermione stood there embarrassed because she had no makeup with her.

"No haff?" Elena asked, gesturing to the make-up.

Hermione shook her head. "No, I didn't bring any."

"I share," Elena said with a big smile and pulled out a handful of lipstick to offer to Hermione.

Hermione had no idea what colour she should pick, so she just selected the one that looked the most similar to what Ginny had used on her when she did Hermione's make-up.

"Nice on you," Elena commented.

"Thank you," Hermione said, admiring the colour in the mirror.

"For dance, use this for hair," Elena said, pulling a black bottle out of her bag. "It smooth hair."

"Oh, I've tried everything," Hermione sighed, pointing at her hair in case Elena didn't understand. "Nothing works."

"This vorks. I promise. Vill be perfect hair." She handed Hermione the bottle. It read "Sleekeazy's Hair Potion and Scalp Treatment" in both Bulgarian and English.

"Can I pay you for it?" Hermione asked. Elena looked at her blankly. "Pay money? Buy it from you? Give you something?"

Realisation crossed Elena's face. "Ah, no. No pay. You friend now!"

"Well, thank you so much," Hermione said with a big smile. "I really appreciate it."

The girls walked back to the mess hall and sat back down at the table. A few more students were eating lunch in the mess, but they didn't seem as kind and accepting as Petar and Elena. Most of them blatantly stared at Hermione with more than a hint of contempt. Hermine felt strangely bold and initiated a small kiss with Viktor. He looked surprised but pleased.

A few minutes later, Viktor grabbed Hermione's hand and pulled her up. "Excuse us," he said, pulling her away from the table.

"It was nice meeting you!" Hermione called over her shoulder. "Thank you again, Elena!"

"Come," Viktor said. "I show you something."

They walked down the ship's narrow corridors to an enormous mahogany door. Viktor grabbed the giant brass handle, twisted it, and with a quick kiss on Hermione's nose, covered her eyes with his hand.

"No looks," he whispered, positioning her in front of him with his hands still covering her eyes. He nudged her forward with his body. "Tri, dve, edno," he counted down before lifting his hands.

A beautiful, modest-sized library sprawled before her. It was much smaller than the one at Hogwarts which was completely understandable since they were, after all, on a small ship. Nonetheless, the number of books and paintings in the room was quite impressive.

"How wonderful!" Hermione said.

"Come, I show you dis," Viktor said, grabbing her hand once again and pulling her into the library. He took her into the far corner where a device similar to the Microfilm Readers found in most Muggle libraries (including the one in Lavenham) perched on a desk. Instead of a grey plastic, the hood was a deep mahogany wood, and there didn't seem to be any sort of electric component (which made sense). The screen was more of a window or magnifying glass than any sort of projector-type thing.

Viktor grabbed a book off the shelf and opened it for Hermione. Inside was writing she couldn't understand and assumed it was in Bulgarian or Russian based on the shape of the letters. Without a word, Viktor slid the book under the hood and tapped his wand three times. Magically, upon the screen was the English translation.

"Brilliant!" Hermione exclaimed. "We need this at Hogwarts! Can it translate to any language you want?"

"Yes," Viktor said. "This is how I learn English. I read Bulgarian, then English."

"You're so smart," Hermione said, hoping her compliment meant as much to him as it did her.

"Not as smart as smartest girl," Viktor said, kissing her once more. In the privacy of the deserted Durmstrang library, this kiss lasted a bit longer than the others. They both came up for air a few minutes later, and Hermione heard herself giggle similarly to how Lavender giggled around the dorm room. She mentally cursed herself for falling into the stereotypical fawning girl trope, but couldn't really help herself.

Kissing Viktor was a lot of fun.

Not many things in Hermione's life a) required absolutely no thought, and b) made her feel wanted in this way. When she was kissing Viktor, she didn't have to worry about Harry dying in the Triwizard Tournament, House-Elves, or even Ron's feelings for her. She didn't have to think about homework or O.W.L.s. All she had to think about was how strong Viktor felt.

She could get used to this.

A few days later, Hermione was sitting in the Library, doing a bit of studying and a lot of hoping Viktor would visit. She hadn't figured out how to visit him on the ship (or if she was even allowed) or get in touch with him. They'd have to figure something out the next time she saw him.

A rustling at the entrance to her alcove made her heart speed up. Someone was coming! She looked up, hoping to see her Bulgarian boyfriend (could she call him that yet?) but saw Neville instead.

Of course she wasn't upset that it was Nevile, just upset that it wasn't Viktor.

"Hey, Hermione!" Neville said sheepishly.

"Hi, Neville! You alright?"

"Yeah, doing ok, thanks. How have you been?"

"Been good," Hermione said. "Pretty busy with school work and S.P.E.W. stuff. Plus, I've been trying to figure out the qualifications for Prefect next year."

"You'd make a brilliant Prefect," he said.

"Thank you! I hope so! Honestly, I'm not sure who else in our year would be able to do it."

"Yeah, I'm sure it'll be you and Harry. If he survives the Tournament, that is," Neville said, biting his lip. "Do you think he'll be ok?"

"I hope so," Hermione said.

Both friends paused, remembering the dragon and wondering what was to come. Finally, Neville broke the silence.

"So, Hermione, I - erm - have a question for you," Neville said. "And you can't laugh."

"I'll never laugh at you, Neville!"

"Ok, well, you didn't hear the question," he said and took a deep breath. "Will you go to the Yule Ball with me?"

Hermione's heart exploded with love for her first-ever friend at Hogwarts. She knew how hard it had to have been to gather the nerve to ask her to the Yule Ball. But then, Hermione remembered she had to turn him down.

"Oh, Neville," she said sadly. "I'm so sorry, but I am going with someone else."

"Oh, no bother," Neville said, his disappointment barely apparent. "So, Ron finally asked you, eh?"

"Actually, no, he hasn't asked."

"He's a dumb git," Neville said, grinning.

"He sure is," Hermione laughed. "I'm sorry I can't go with you, Neville."

"Honestly, it's ok," he said. "I hope you have a wonderful time with whoever you're going with."

"And you as well!"

"I will - I think I am going to ask Ginny if that's ok with you. I know she's a third year, so she won't be able to go otherwise."

"That's a brilliant idea! It'd be amazing to have her there. It's something not to be missed!"

"That's what I thought," said Neville with a grin. "Well, I'm off to find her, then! Thanks, Hermione!"

"Fairy lights," Hermione said to the Fat Lady who, in turn, swung open. As she climbed through the Portrait Hole, Hermione saw Ron seated in the corner, white as a ghost, surrounded by Ginny and Harry.

"Why weren't you two at dinner?" she said, coming over to join them. They were supposed to meet after class, but neither showed up.

"Because – oh, shut up laughing, you two – because they've both just been turned down by girls they asked to the ball!" said Ginny. Hermione tried not to let any emotion show on her face, but her anger got the best of her.

"Thanks a bunch, Ginny," said Ron sourly.

"All the good-looking ones taken, Ron?" said Hermione loftily. "Eloise Midgen is starting to look quite pretty now, is she? Well, I'm sure you'll find someone somewhere who'll have you."

But Ron was staring at Hermione as though suddenly seeing her in a whole new light. "Hermione, Neville's right – you are a girl…"

"Oh, well spotted," she said acidly.

"Well – you can come with one of us!"

"No, I can't," snapped Hermione.

"Oh, come on," he said impatiently. "We need partners, we're going to look really stupid if we haven't got any, everyone else has."

"I can't come with you," said Hermione, now blushing, "because I'm already going with someone."

"No, you're not!" said Ron. "You just said that to get rid of Neville!"

"Oh, did I" said Hermione, and her eyes flashed dangerously. "Just because it's taken you three years to notice, Ron, doesn't mean no one else has spotted I'm a girl!"

Ron stared at her. Then he grinned again.

"Okay, Okay, we know you're a girl," he said. "That do? Will you come now?"

"I've already told you! I'm going with someone else!" Hermione growled. She stormed off towards the girls' dormitories before she ended up punching Ron in the face.