Hermione likes the way Viktor Krum stares at her, even if she doesn't quite understand why he does it. No boy has ever looked at her that way, with serious, smoldering eyes that trap her breath in her throat and make her feel vulnerable and powerful all at once. After all, everyone knows that Hermione is a sensible witch! How could anyone expect a handful of heated glances, from a man she's never even spoken to, to have this much of an effect on her?
Hermione doesn't know why she can't stop thinking about the Bulgarian wizard. It isn't just that Viktor is handsome, even though he very much is. He's also older, more experienced, and, Hermione bemoans, devastatingly attractive. At the cusp of womanhood, Hermione is just old enough to understand Viktor's intentions, but too young to know what comes next. She feels like Viktor is inviting her to play a game, but she doesn't even know the rules. The whole situation frustrates her to no end.
And it only gets worse when Viktor, the root of all this distraction, starts spending his evenings in her sanctuary, the Hogwarts library. Hermione's more surprised than anything when Viktor arrives for the first time, a gaggle of fans trailing behind him. Surprise fades to irritation as his posse giggles and gossips, far too loudly for such a quiet space. Hermione finds herself grateful when, after a few days, the adoring public grows bored of watching their Quidditch hero read theoretical transfiguration textbooks. One by one they stop following the brooding Bulgarian.
Hermione finds herself (unlikely as it is) wishing for at least one fan when Viktor arrives alone for the first time. He sits two tables away, directly facing her, but he may as well have sat a foot away for how on-edge Hermione feels. How is she supposed to focus when the man that keeps catching her gaze, but has never said a word, is sitting so close?
A few minutes pass and Hermione is quite sure that she is being watched. The witch risks a quick glance to confirm what she already knows: Viktor is leveling a heady stare at the Gryffindor over the top of his yet-unread book. The young woman frantically turns her attention to her own book, trying furtively to ignore the pounding of her heart. He saw her, there was no mistake.
The sound of a chair scooting backward makes Hermione's heart skip a whole beat. Then it starts again and thuds in time with the heavy footsteps making their way toward her. By the time Viktor is standing by her desk, Hermione is sure of two things: this man is going to give her a heart attack, and she almost can't wait.
Anticipation thrums in Hermione's chest as she observes Viktor Krum up close for the first time. He stands well over six feet, with Quidditch-hardened muscles that fill his Durmstrang uniform to perfection. Hermione feels tiny next to him, which only makes the strange sensation building in her abdomen stronger.
"You are Hogvarts student, da?" He finally asks. It's an innocent introduction, one Hermione doesn't expect. She flushes under his scrutiny, knowing her pink cheeks speak volumes. She wants to run and hide, forget how strange Viktor Krum makes her feel.
But Hermione is a Gryffindor, so instead, she bites her lip and responds, "Y-yes. I'm a fourth-year at Hogwarts." She pauses for a second before adding, "Muggleborn, if you are wondering."
She hopes to throw him off-kilter, maybe gain some footing in this complicated dance between them. Instead, she makes him laugh, a deep chuckle that sends sparks racing through her stomach.
"I don't care about your blood, little vitch," he says, resting a large hand on the back of her chair. He leans close enough that Hermione can feel his hot breath caress the shell of her ear. She freezes, waiting to see what the wizard will do next. "I do vonder, however, whether a certain pretty little vitch knows how dangerous making such innocent eyes at a vizard can be."
Hermione doesn't know how to react to such a blatant advance and instead blinks owlishly, gnawing her lower lip to keep from blurting out the million and one questions racing through her mind. Having Viktor so close makes it hard for Hermione to think clearly. All she can do is drown in his scent, faintly smokey and overwhelmingly masculine.
"Let us sit together, da?"
Hermione nods, eager to have the older man seated and out of her personal space. She's afraid if he stays any longer, she may do something to keep him there. It's a scary thought, and Hermione hopes suddenly that the Durmstrang student isn't practiced in legimancy. Her thoughts are not only embarrassingly scattered at the moment, but also highly indecent.
Instead of sitting across from her, as Hermione expected, Viktor drags his chair directly beside her's. He sits with an arm draped over her chair, close enough that she can feel his body heat. His thighs spread just enough to press the length of his leg against her own. Hermione is startled, but the slow roil of true arousal is starting to curl in her abdomen. The Gryffindor doesn't want it to stop.
"Do you have name, pretty vitch?" Asks Viktor, lifting his fingers from the chair behind Hermione to skim the soft skin of her neck.
The young witch wets her lips. "Hermione," she gasps, head tilting to allow his fingers more room to dance along the pale column of her throat. A thumb reaches up to rest on her still parted lips. She whimpers, too aroused to do anything else, and accidentally flicks her tongue along the calloused pad.
Viktor growls, not expecting such a forward move from the innocent witch. He takes advantage of her seemingly willing mouth and presses further, wetting his thumb between those rosy pink lips. Hermione's chest is heaving, despite being sedentary. She is almost sure she wants to run, but then Viktor gives her lips one last swipe and then his hand is gone and the witch feels cold where his skin had just rested. All the heat returns, however, when the older wizard brings that same finger to his own mouth.
"So sweet," he comments, tongue swirling around the thumb that rests indecently between his teeth.
It is only then, with her blood thrumming excitedly through her body in a way that can only be described as dizzying, that Hermione Granger's legendary Gryffindor bravery fails her. She sends her wooden library chair careening backward as she flees the library, forgetting, in a very un-Hermione-like fashion, her book bag in the possession of a very bemused (and aroused) Viktor Krum.
"Vat an intriguing vitch," he remarks, methodically collecting her studying materials. With no further reason to stay in the library, Viktor slings her school satchel over a broadly defined shoulder and returns to the Durmstrang ship. "Vell. She vill know vhere to go to find me."
Part II Soon —