Two Ships
Hermione left the Ministry library late on Christmas Eve. Snow flurries swirled through the air. Her stomach growled and she realized she'd skipped breakfast and forgotten to eat lunch, not unusual when she was upset. Seven days ago, she'd left Ron. He'd told her to go. He'd told her he was done with her, but he was drunk at the time and she'd thought he probably didn't meant it.
He'd been drinking more since the war ended, but once they'd moved out of the Burrow and into their own flat above Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, he'd really increased his intake. She understood why. He was still recovering from his injuries at the end of the war and it was taking longer than the healers had expected. He had persistent pain from the deep scar on his jaw, but that wasn't the worst problem. The real issue was that he wasn't clear-headed and his magic remained stubbornly depleted, rendering him effectively a Muggle. Fred and George had offered him a job stocking shelves at the shop to get him out of the house and help him feel useful, which had worked initially. She and Ron had fun setting up the flat and it was so nice initially to finally have some privacy, but as the months wore on and Ron still wasn't better, he started to complain bitterly about busy work and charity. The bitterness fueled the drinking and the drinking fueled the anger, but she knew it was temporary. He just needed to finish healing, restore his magic, and he'd be fine. They would be fine.
Then Death Eaters murdered her parents out of nothing more than spite. The war was long over. That sudden act of extreme violence coupled with the crushing loss cut her completely adrift in a sea of grief and there was no one around to throw her a line or to pull her back in. Harry was still recovering from his own end of war experiences and Ginny was completely committed to helping him. Ron spent all his time at the bottom of a bottle and no one else seemed to notice her slide.
She'd tried talking to Ron, but he couldn't see past his own situation to understand hers, so she stopped talking. Guilt and grief and rage swelled inside her all the time, making her feel completely out of control. Ron's behavior only made it worse, so she avoided him, which wasn't difficult since she was in the trails to become an Unspeakable and he spent all his spare time at the pub. Toward the end, it seemed like the only place they still connected was in the bedroom, but then even that became very strained. He'd gotten quite rough with her a few times and seemed to have lost sight of her needs entirely. He hadn't touched her in anything close to a loving manner in quite a while. The last night they were together things between them had spiraled so completely out of control, she'd been shocked to realized her wand was in her hand. When he'd told her to bugger off, she'd thought she probably ought to. They both needed to cool down. Besides, she'd thought if she packed up and left him, it might dawn on him that he really was out of control.
As she walked back to parents' house the dread of another night alone began to creep up her spine. Even though she'd redone the rooms where they had been murdered, staying at the house alone was hard, but she didn't have a job yet, so she didn't have anywhere else to go and couldn't afford to stay in a hotel. The trials for becoming an Unspeakable were over, but unfortunately, she'd been warned that it would likely take a month or more before they notified her if she'd made the cut. Odds were against it, years went by that the Department of Mysteries didn't hire anyone. In the meantime, she'd spent every day in the Ministry library. The books were a comfort and reading helped shut out the mess of her personal life. Perhaps foolishly, she'd expected Ron to come to his senses by now and reach out to her, so they could reconcile and she could go home. Since that hadn't happened, it looked increasingly like he'd meant what he'd said. He was done with her. The thought left her gutted and each passing hour on her own was harder than the one before.
Nights were the hardest. She had hours to fill with no one but herself for company and it was causing her to have some very dark thoughts. She felt like no one would care or even notice if she wasn't around anymore. After all, Ron wasn't the only one who hadn't reached out to her. She often found herself contemplating ways she might die, sometimes accidental, sometimes on purpose. Increasingly, she found herself wishing she had just died in that hallway at Hogwarts. At least she would have died feeling loved. She had friends then and family. But as she headed down the street toward The Leaky Cauldron, she had no one. All she had was the Department of Mysteries and magic. She'd wait until she heard about the job. She couldn't die without knowing whether she'd made Unspeakable. She could hold out until she heard. If she made it, she'd have something to do, something to live for. If she didn't make the cut...well, maybe she'd make a different sort of cut. A month seemed like an eternity to live in the kind of gutted agony she was experiencing. Christmas was tomorrow. She could hold out until Christmas. Perhaps Ron was waiting for the holiday to make some sort of grand gesture and bring her home.
She'd sent him a Christmas card by owl post a few days ago but hadn't received one in return. She'd only gotten two - one from Harry, in which he wished her a Happy Christmas and then implored her to sort out this business with Ron, and one from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, which just said Happy Christmas and nothing more. Part of her wanted to send Harry a Howler to tell him to go sort out Ron. She'd tried and failed. There was something very wrong with Ron and she couldn't fix it. She couldn't fix anything. She was worthless.
The shops were all closed early for Christmas Eve. The Leaky Cauldron was open for through traffic but the bar and kitchen were closed, which ruined her plan to just pick up a takeaway to eat at home. She'd intended to Apparate after she got something to eat but her stomach growled when she went through the back of the pub and into Muggle London. Since she didn't have much to eat at the house, she decided to stop in a Waitrose that was still open on the corner. Part of her wondered, if she was going to be dead by Boxing Day, what was the point of eating but another part of her screamed for her not to be ridiculous, that she wouldn't go through with it and to just get some food. Increasingly, she felt at war with herself: half of her fighting to live, the other half begging to die.
She'd only managed to put a bottle of milk and a box of Weetabix into her basket when someone bumped into her. She turned around and was astounded to see Viktor Krum scowling back at her. The scowl disappeared and was replaced by recognition.
"Hermione?"
"Viktor?"
They hugged each other.
"What are you doing in London?" Hermione asked.
Viktor smiled. "I am trying out for Puddlemere United."
Hermione looked at him, surprised that he would leave Bulgaria. "What? I thought you played for the Vrasta Vultures when you weren't playing for the Bulgarian National team."
Viktor cleared his throat. "I was. I just needed a change. I can still play for the national team if they want me."
Hermione thought it odd that there would be a question as to whether they'd want him, but she didn't follow Quidditch very closely, so she was reticent to say anything else about it. "Are you staying around here?"
Viktor sighed. "No. I am supposed to be staying in Diagon Alley, but the Portkey that was to take me directly to the hotel dropped me behind some Muggle jewelry store instead. I have been walking around for two hours trying to find the magical entrance. I just came in here to get something to eat."
Hermione grimaced. "I'm so sorry. You should report the Portkey - that kind of malfunction is really serious. Who made it?"
Viktor shrugged and his scowl returned.
"Well, the good news is Diagon Alley is only about a block from here. I can take you."
He looked visibly relieved.
She looked down at the pitiful contents of her basket. "Actually, would you like to get dinner first?"
Viktor smiled warmly at her. "I would like that." He raised his eyebrows. "But, it is Christmas Eve, and I do not think we are likely to find many places open, unless you want to go to a Muggle restaurant or eat at the hotel."
Hermione thought he was probably right. "You know what?" she said. "Why don't I make us dinner? I don't live far from here and then you don't have to eat hotel food on Christmas Eve."
Viktor nodded his head. "That sounds good. You are sure you do not mind? I do not want to intrude. Your friends-"
"Not at all. I'm actually on my own tonight." Hermione smiled. Her evening suddenly didn't seem as bleak. "Do you have any particular favorites?"
With bags laden with thick steaks, parsnips and Brussels sprouts, she and Viktor walked through lightly falling snow to her townhouse.
xXx
Dinner was a joint effort. Viktor knew a good grilling spell and Hermione handled the vegetables. Sated and having started on their second bottle of wine, they'd stayed at the dinner table talking until well into the night. When Viktor finally realized the time, he stood to leave. Hermione rested a hand on his forearm.
"Viktor, it's almost midnight. This house has five bedrooms. Why don't you stay? I can take you to Diagon Alley tomorrow."
He paused, looking intently at her. "You do not mind?"
She smiled. "I wouldn't have offered if I did."
She got him settled into one of the first-floor bedrooms and then went upstairs to her own room, only she wasn't able to sleep. After an hour of tossing and turning, she gave up and went back downstairs. She conjured a fire in the parlor fireplace and poured herself a little brandy and sat sipping it on the Persian carpet in front of the fire. The events of the last few weeks played over and over in her mind. She'd been sitting there for some time when she heard Viktor come downstairs. He went into the kitchen and then a minute later he came into the parlor with a glass of water in his hand.
"Hermione?"
She looked up at him. "I couldn't sleep."
He sighed. He was barefoot and shirtless in flannel pajama bottoms. He sat cross-legged on the rug next to her. "Me either."
"Well, happy Christmas," she said, and leaned over and kissed his cheek.
"Happy Christmas," he repeated, but instead of kissing her cheek, he kissed her warmly on the mouth. The part of her that had been fighting to live for the last week opened her mouth to him and the part of her that wanted to die drowned in his eager response. They kissed as if they had never stopped dating, which was comforting and familiar. Soon they were lying on their sides. When his hand cupped her breast, that too was as before, and she arched into him, but when she felt his hands tugging at the belt of her dressing gown, she leaned her head back out of the kiss and looked down at what he was doing.
He smiled at her. "Just once," he said softly, "I would like to feel you without layers of cotton and wool between us."
She swallowed hard, unsure if she really wanted to do this, but then she considered her alternate plan for the holiday, cast a wandless non-verbal spell to conceal her scars, and opened her dressing gown. The flannel gown she wore beneath it buttoned up the front and she watched Viktor unbutton it. He started at the bottom and kissed the flesh behind each opened button. When he reached the top one, he slipped it from her shoulders leaving her naked. The heat from the fire felt good against her exposed skin, but Viktor's mouth on her breast felt even better. As he kissed his way back down her body, his black hair reminded her briefly of Harry in much the same position after the Poacher's Curse had been cast at the three of them during the war. She closed her eyes and willed away the image. She didn't like to think about that night, and she especially didn't want to think about it right now. She was already fighting back feelings of guilt, but Viktor's tongue was making that easier and easier. She gasped and surged against his mouth as he deftly slid two fingers inside her. He curled them and she came completely unglued, leaving her panting and trembling through aftershocks. Viktor kissed her thigh, wiped his mouth on the bottom of her gown, and slid back up next to her and smiled. She glanced at him. He'd put on a lot of muscle since school. She patted his chest, noting that he had washboard abs and was still wearing his pajama pants which were tented now. "Give me a second, and I'll return the favor."
He smiled at her. "Actually, if you do not mind, I think I would rather be inside you." He kissed her shoulder.
"Oh," Hermione said, blinking. She hadn't considered that. And now he was expecting an answer. "Um, okay."
He cast the contraception charm wandlessly as he slid out of his pajama bottoms before settling between her legs. Once again, she was reminded of Harry. Viktor was an average sized guy, unlike Ron, who was rather a lot to accommodate. The thought of Ron sent another wave of guilt washing over her, but she pushed it aside. He'd sent her away. He'd hurt her. She owed him nothing. She could do as she pleased and right now Viktor pleased her, but that was short lived as his first real thrust drove her bruised bottom into the carpet and she hissed in pain.
Viktor looked down at her, concern crossing his features. "Am I hurting you?"
She shifted uncomfortably beneath him. "No. I mean…it's just…the floor is rather hard. Would you mind…could we switch?"
He grinned at her. "Absolutely." He slipped out of her and rolled on to his back.
xXx
Viktor was delighted when Hermione suggested they switch places. He liked the view a woman on top provided, but when she shifted on to her knees to straddle him, he caught sight of a dark purple bruise that ran all the way across her bum. Not wanting to kill the mood, he didn't say anything, but it bothered him. The bother disappeared though when she sank over him, but as she rested her hands on his chest, he noticed finger bruises on her forearms. They were fading to yellow, but they were there. She tightened herself around him and shifted her hips and, for the moment, he forgot about the bruises.
He wanted more time, but she was riding him hard and this was an old fantasy come true. They hadn't taken the physical aspects of their relationship very far when they'd been at Hogwarts. She was only fifteen at the time which had felt a lot younger than his eighteen years had felt. He hadn't wanted to push her then, but he had wanted her, and now he was here, inside of her, and he wasn't going to last much longer. He growled in frustration and got his hands under him and thrust himself off the floor, shifting their position and throwing off her rhythm. She gasped at the sudden change. He wrapped his arm around her and pressed his forehead against hers. "You are…" He gritted his teeth, trying to rein himself in.
"What?" Hermione gasped, unsure of what was happening.
"Surprising," Viktor finished. "I…" He groaned again. "Can I come inside you? I will not last much longer."
xXx
Thrown off her rhythm and confused by the question, Hermione looked at him. Ron had never asked before. And neither of them had asked that night with Harry. They hadn't cast the contraception charm either which left them all very nervous for two weeks until she'd started her period, but she'd heard Viktor cast the charm, so she wasn't sure why he thought she'd mind. Perhaps some women minded. It occurred to her she didn't know much about sexual etiquette. Once again, she realized he was waiting for an answer and it was costing him. All the muscles in his neck were taunt. "Go ahead," she gasped.
He gripped her shoulders and thrust up hard twice before moaning against her neck. She felt him relax. Panting, he kissed her cheek and then her mouth, sliding his fingers into her hair as he kissed her more passionately. When he released her, he lay down on his back and she snuggled next to him. He pulled her dressing gown over them both. She could feel his heart pounding in his chest as his breathing started to slow.
Viktor chuckled softly.
She pushed herself up on one elbow and looked at him. "What?"
"Is there anything you are not good at?"
"I'm terrible on a broom."
He laughed. "Still? I tried so hard to teach you at Hogwarts."
She sighed. "I never got any better. Thank goodness for Apparition."
He shook his head. Smiling, he cupped her breast. "These are quite a bit fuller than I remember. As I recall they used to barely fill my hand."
Hermione shrugged. "Yes, and that was probably mostly jumper."
He chuckled again.
"However," she said somewhat defensively, "I was only fifteen and a bit of a late bloomer."
He smiled more sincerely. "You have grown up very beautiful."
She shook her head. "Beautiful is a stretch."
He cupped her face and leaned in to kiss her again. "I do not think so."
It was hard to look at him when he said things like that, so she snuggled against him instead. He pulled her dressing gown back over them and they drifted off to sleep.
xXx
Hermione awoke the next morning to the sounds and smells of breakfast. She was still naked on the floor of the parlor under her dressing gown, but the fire had died down and the room was chilly. She shrugged on her dressing gown before adding some logs to the fire. She went into the powder room to freshen up and get her hair under control before she faced Viktor. Her wand was still in the pocket of her dressing gown so she used it to cast a new glamour charm to cover her scars and then she cast the elaborate spells to tame her hair into a single braid down her back. She didn't have time for a shower, so she cast a general cleaning charm on herself and her clothes. She blew out a slow breath as she assessed herself in the mirror. What have I done? She frowned at her image. Oh please, she thought, you're a grown woman. Two consenting adults spent the night together. Don't be a baby about it. He's making breakfast. Go in there and act like an adult. She blew out another calming breath and opened the door.
When she stepped into the kitchen Viktor was standing at the cooker, fully dressed, with his wand out. Bacon and eggs were frying.
"You went back to the market," Hermione said, knowing she hadn't had breakfast food on hand last night.
"I had to," Viktor said. "All you had to eat was those cereal cubes."
"Weetabix," Hermione answered.
"Yes," Viktor said grimacing. "I do not know how you eat that."
She shrugged.
He began plating eggs and bacon. "Sit," he said.
"Thank you for making breakfast."
He smiled at her. "I woke hungry."
Her stomach growled in agreement and she could feel herself blush.
"Ah, you did too," Viktor said, handing her a plate before grabbing his own and sitting across from her. "I could not find coffee."
"I usually drink tea," she said. "I'll put the kettle on."
"Alright," he said, taking a bite of bacon. "I would have bought some if I'd known."
Hermione flicked her wand and the kettle sailed over to the sink, filled itself, and then sailed back to the stove top. With another flick of her wand, she started the fire under it. Viktor watched her. "You are very good with magic," he said.
She smiled. "Because I can make tea?"
"I was thinking more because you can tame that hair, but the tea is nice too." There was a mischievous gleam in his eye.
She mock scowled at him. "Thanks a lot." She took a bite of bacon. "This is really good."
"Thank you. I am also good with magic."
She stood and finished making the tea, bringing the pot to the table so it could steep while she got a couple of cups from the cupboard.
"It snowed last night," he said. "People seemed quite concerned at the market."
"Yes, well, it doesn't snow often in London. There's a bit of a tendency toward panic among the Muggles when it does."
"It snowed quite a lot."
"Seriously?" Hermione said, going to the window to see for herself. "Good heavens. That's unusual." There was a thick blanket of snow covering the surrounding area.
"We should go sledding," he said.
Hermione turned to look at him. "I don't think we have a sled."
"We?" Viktor said.
"This was my parents' house," Hermione said, her voice catching.
Viktor raised his eyebrows.
"They were killed by Death Eaters…in retaliation…after the war."
"A terrible thing," Viktor said.
She didn't want to talk about it. Living in their house was hard enough without talking about their death. "Anyway, I don't think they owned a sled."
He gave her a sad smile. "No matter. If you want to go, I will transfigure something."
She nodded. "That sounds good." She poured them each a cup of tea and then sat back down to finish her breakfast.
Viktor pushed the eggs around on his plate. "I was engaged to be married."
Hermione set down her tea and looked at him.
"You would have liked her. She was very smart and very outspoken. She was also murdered by Death Eaters."
She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "I'm so sorry."
"It is a hard thing to live with," he said softly.
Hermione nodded. "Yes."
He turned his hand over and laced his fingers through hers. "We will go sledding."
She blinked back tears and smiled. "Yes. I'll go get changed."
xXx
She was pulling on her snow boots in the kitchen when Viktor said, "Hermione, before we go, perhaps I should…"
She looked up at him. "What?"
He cleared his throat. "There are bruises on your body," he said softly. "Perhaps I should heal them."
"Oh." Hermione felt her face heat up. "Okay."
He gave her a weak smile. "Drop your trousers."
"Right," she said. It was humiliating, but he'd already seen them. She couldn't imagine why she hadn't thought to include the bruises in the charm that covered her scars. He was right though, healing them before they went sledding was definitely a good idea. She turned around and unbuckled her belt and slid her trousers and knickers down just far enough for him to see the bruise.
"This is quite deep," Viktor said before casting Episkey. "Why have you left it?"
The relief was immediate. The bruise had been aching all week. She didn't realize how much it had been hurting until the pain disappeared. She'd left it to discourage her from going back to Ron. He needed to come to her. She didn't tell Viktor that though, instead, she pulled her trousers back up and buckled her belt. "Thanks."
"You are welcome. Let me see your arms."
Her face grew hotter. The bruise on her bum had hurt so bad, she'd completely forgotten about the fingerprint bruises on her arms. She pushed her sleeves up but turned her head away. Viktor cast Episkey twice more. "Thanks," Hermione said again without looking at him as she pulled her sleeves down and buttoned the cuffs.
Viktor put his wand away and said gently, "Do you want to talk about it?"
Hermione shook her head. "No." She knew he must have some sense of how she'd gotten hurt, but she didn't want to talk about it. Ron wasn't himself, and while she might not be able to live with him anymore, she couldn't run him down either. She had a deep and abiding sense of loyalty when it came to Ron and Harry. Ron had sacrificed so much for her. The least she could do was keep her mouth shut.
Viktor tucked an errant curl behind her ear. "Time to play in the snow, yes?"
She smiled at him. "Yes. There's a park with a hill just a few blocks from here."
"Perfect," Viktor said. Outside he transfigured an empty garbage bin into a toboggan and they set off.
xXx
Playing in the snow turned out to be a lot of fun even if their toboggan had a bit of a funky smell. Muggles were enjoying the unusual snowfall too, and the atmosphere was carefree and happy. After a couple of hours, they were both tired and wet and ready to head back. There was a Muggle vendor selling hot chocolate from a cart, but neither of them had Muggle money with them and Hermione didn't want to cheat the vendor by transfiguring something.
"You know who makes the best hot chocolate?" she said.
Viktor raised his eyebrows.
"Honeydukes."
"Ah, yes, in that village below Hogwarts."
"Hogsmeade," Hermione said. "Shall we? We can just step behind those trees." He followed her out of sight of the Muggles and she held out her arm.
"What?" Viktor looked skeptical. "You want to take me side-along?"
She smiled at him. "I used to take Ron and Harry all over the place?"
"Both of them? You can do double side-along?"
She nodded. "Even in a pinch." She held out her arm again.
He took it reluctantly. "All right."
When they arrived in Hogsmeade, Viktor did a quick assessment to make sure she hadn't Splinched him. Hermione chuckled at his concern. "You're fine."
He gave her a long approving look. "You are very good at magic."
She smiled. "Yes, I am. Come on, let's get some hot chocolate."
Honeydukes had just opened and they were the first customers of the day. Viktor ordered two hot chocolates with whipped cream. As they stepped back outside, Hermione took a sip of her drink.
"You have whipped cream on your nose." Viktor chuckled and wiped it away with his thumb." A flash bulb went off and Hermione recognized a photographer that worked for The Daily Prophet. Without asking, she grabbed Viktor's arm and Apparated back to the foyer of her parents' townhouse.
Viktor was wide-eyed when they landed. He looked down at the drink in his hand. "You did not even spill it," he said in awe.
"No," she said.
"I take it you do not like publicity."
"No." She set her drink on the little table next to the front door and pulled off her coat and hung it in the hall closet. "Where did he come from anyway? How did he know we were there?"
Viktor shrugged and hung his coat next to hers and pulled off his boots. "It was probably just luck."
"I guess you get that all the time." She left her boots next to Viktor's and went through to the kitchen.
He followed her. "It is part of the job. Surely, given your role in the war, you must be used to it by now."
"Familiar, yes. Used to it? Not really."
He put a comforting hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed. "It is better to embrace it than to fight it. They go after you harder when you fight it."
She closed her eyes and blew out a frustrated breath. "I know you're right. I just hate it."
"I know," he kissed her softly on the lips.
She kissed him back but was surprised when he began unbuttoning her shirt as he moved to kiss her neck. She turned her head to give him more access and realized they were standing in the kitchen. Since she had no desire for another encounter on a table, she pressed her lips against his ear. "Viktor, there are beds in this house, you know?"
He leaned back and looked at her. "You have the best ideas."
She laughed and tugged him upstairs by his belt.
xXx
She Apparated with him to the entrance to Diagon Alley later that afternoon. He had a meeting with the coaches for Puddlemere United that evening and then wanted to turn in early to be ready for tryouts the next day.
Hermione pulled out her wand and showed him the sequence to tap on the wall to get into the alley. The bricks folded themselves back and created a doorway. Viktor looked at her with an expression of gratitude. He leaned in and kissed her. "Thank you."
She smiled at him. "It was wonderful to see you again."
"You too." He tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "I should go."
She nodded. "Good luck with the team."
He smiled at her, kissed her forehead, before stepping into the alley. Hermione watched as the bricks closed behind him. She sighed and turned to walk back home. She could have Apparated, but she decided the walk might do her good. She was sad to see Viktor go, but she didn't have any delusions about the last twenty-four hours. She tried to sort through her feelings. There was still no word from Ron or Harry beyond Harry's Christmas card. She wondered what Ron's explanation for her departure had been. Part of her wanted to tell Harry and Ginny what had happened, but a larger part didn't want anyone to ever know what Ron had done, what she'd allowed him to do. She could have stopped him, could have cast Protego, could have cast any number of spells to get him off her, and yet she hadn't. She didn't know what was wrong with her or what was wrong with him. They were broken somehow and despite her best efforts, she hadn't been able to fix it. And now she'd slept with Viktor. She wasn't sure what that meant or if it meant anything in terms of her and Ron. She supposed not if she never disclosed it. She was certain Viktor wouldn't. On the other hand, there didn't seem to be a her and Ron anymore. A tear slipped down her cheek. After everything they'd been through, it was hard to imagine this was it. She wiped her face with the back of her hand and squared her shoulders. One thing Viktor had done for her was bring her life back into focus. She'd chosen him over oblivion, which meant she wasn't interested in dying. She loved Ron, but not what he'd become and not what she'd been there at the end either. She would rise. She would keep herself busy until she heard from the Ministry and if the Unspeakables didn't work out, she'd find something else. She was Hermione Granger, witch. She would not be undone by a breakup. She was stronger than that. If she had to rebuild her life from the ground up, so be it.
