Pretend It Doesn't Bother You

Tuesday morning, Hermione was eating a piece of toast and planning on cleaning out the basement where her parents' offices were when an owl carrying The Daily Prophet arrived. When she opened the window, she was surprised to see another owl with a letter. Her heart soared. Someone had written. She tossed the newspaper aside, took the letter and gave both owls a treat before sending them on their way. The letter was from Viktor: two pages telling her all about his first day of trials. He'd done well, liked the other members of the team, and had liked his chances after his meeting with the coaches. Lastly, he mentioned a new book about the Goblin Wars that he'd started reading and suggested she might like it. Hermione found some parchment and a quill and penned a response. Since she hadn't thought to ask one of the owls to stay, she'd have to take it to the owlery later. Pulling The Daily Prophet over, she surveyed the headlines. Nothing struck her as particularly interesting until she got to page six where the lead of the gossip column was a picture of her and Viktor outside Honeydukes. Over and over again Viktor smiled and wiped the whipped cream from the end of her nose before she grabbed his arm and Disapparated. Viktor had been right, she should have just stayed there. The photo made it look like she'd been caught out doing something she was ashamed of. The caption said it all: Hermione Granger seen stepping out with former flame, Viktor Krum in Hogsmeade Sunday morning. She looked at the photo more closely. Viktor's smile was playful, but she couldn't have looked more guilt ridden as they Disapparated. She sighed and closed the paper. Ron was going to see that. Her stomach clenched at the thought. They hadn't spoken since the night she'd left. Apparently, he had been serious when he'd told her he was done with her. Maybe this is what he really wanted. She ran her hand along the edge of the table. Fine. She couldn't live like that anyway. She sighed again and went down to the basement to start clearing it out.

After her parents were killed, she'd arranged to have their patient records transferred to a friend of theirs who was also a dentist. She'd also given him access to their offices to take any equipment that might interest him for his own practice. She'd given their dental hygienist a nice severance package and asked the receptionist to stay on for a few more days and call everyone with upcoming appointments before she got her own severance. After that, Hermione locked their office and used a permanent sticking charm to pin a note on the door that stated that they were forever closed due to a death. She hadn't been down there since.

Hermione unlocked the door to their offices and lit the lantern she'd brought with her. She'd had her parent's house declared entirely magical and taken off the Muggle electrical grid a couple of days after she'd moved back in. Magic and electricity didn't mix well and it was too much trouble and dangerous to try and deal with both in the same house. She opened the blinds in the front windows of the walkout basement to let in more light. Their office was largely intact. Aside from the patient files and the equipment that had been removed everything else was still there. The cabinets were full of supplies. The waiting area was still furnished. Their desks were still as they'd left them. The walls of the waiting area still had the framed posters about dental care. The patient rooms also had framed artwork on the walls, but most of them were drawings done by their younger patients. As she walked by each frame, she cast shrinking charms on them until they were just little tiles, which she tossed in an empty copier paper box that had been left on the floor. Over her mother's desk was a drawing she had done when she was around five or six. It was an endearingly bad drawing of their family done in crayon. She took it off the wall and sat on the floor holding it while she sobbed. She missed them so much. The loss seemed unbearable and overwhelming sometimes, but after awhile she pulled herself together and got up and continued cleaning. She had to keep going. Staying busy was the only thing she could think to do to get through the pain.

Clearing out the basement took all day and well into the night because it was so difficult to stay focused. Thoughts of her parents, thoughts of Ron, and thoughts of the war kept surfacing. She was consumed with guilt over her failures. She kept thinking of all the things she should have done. She should have Obliviated her parents and sent them away when they refused to go on their own. They would still be lost to her, but at least they'd be alive. She thought about the last year with Ron. Arguments they had, arguments she should have made but didn't. Maybe she should have gone to his parents and asked for help. Maybe she should have gone to Harry and Ginny. Maybe Bill or Charlie. At the time, it seemed disloyal to Ron and lame that she couldn't manage her own affairs. But with some time and distance, she wished she'd done things differently. Interspersed with thoughts of Ron and her parents there were memories of the war. They would flash fully formed in her mind, dead friends, people she'd killed, injuries she'd sustained, or worse injuries to Ron and Harry: so much dark magic, so much blood. When the thoughts threatened to overwhelm her, she took a break for tea or to go to the owlery or to just walk around the block and get fresh air. It was after midnight before she decided she was done for the night.

xXx

Wednesday morning two more owls showed up, but this time she asked the one that brought Viktor's letter to stay. As he had the day before, Viktor penned a two-page letter, mostly about his day but he also mentioned the photo in the gossip column. He thought they looked good, but he knew she didn't care for the publicity, so he hoped she was okay. She responded by writing about the challenges of clearing out her parents' old offices and concluded by saying she didn't care about the photo in the paper. That was true in the sense that she didn't care about the photo itself. She did care about what Ron thought about it and what his family and their friends thought, but she didn't see any point in burdening Viktor with all that. After all, it wasn't as if he could do anything about it. What was done, was done. She spent the rest of the day sorting through her parents' books. She didn't get very far because she kept getting distracted. She found a pint of Jameson's Irish Whiskey behind a shelf of her father's mysteries. It was almost empty, so she took it and John Mortimer's First Rumpole Omnibus and retired to the parlor sofa.

xXx

On Thursday morning, Viktor's owl showed up with a bouquet of Alstroemerias in addition to the letter. Viktor was very sweet in his concern for her having to clear out her parents' offices on her own. He offered to help if she wanted to clear out anything else and told her not to push herself too hard. She sent back a letter thanking him for his concern and confessing that she'd spent most of the previous day reading on the sofa. The rest of her day was spent in another half-hearted attempt to sort through her parents' books.

xXx

There was no letter Friday morning, and Hermione felt its absence as an acute loss, but she shook herself out of it. After all, Viktor was busy. By this point, he'd been with the team for a few days and had people to talk to and go out with. He didn't need to spend evenings alone writing letters anymore. She sighed and tossed the paper aside unread. She needed a social life too. She thought about seeing friends, but she wasn't sure how to do that. Other people generally made the social plans and she just went along. She couldn't help wondering if any of her friends would even want to talk to her since the paper implied she was cheating on Ron with Viktor. Given that the paper had routinely covered their relationship when they were recovering after the war, she had to assume Ron hadn't told anyone they broke up, or it would have appeared in the gossip column. She wondered why he hadn't said anything. After all, he was the one who sent her away. Of course, she hadn't told anyone either, but that had largely been because she'd thought he might change his mind and it was embarrassing to tell people he'd kicked her out. Maybe she could find a book on how to make new friends. She shook her head at how pathetic that seemed. In the meantime, she needed a shower. She was just about to step in when she heard a knock on the front door. She slipped on her dressing gown and grabbed her wand before going downstairs to look out the peephole in the front door.

Viktor was standing on the stoop. She smiled and cast the glamour charm to cover her scars and opened the door. "Viktor?"

He stepped inside, grinning at her. "You are looking at the new starting Seeker for Puddlemere United."

"Congratulations!" she said, hugging him. He picked her up and spun around with her, causing her to laugh.

"I have missed you," he said, closing the front door. He leaned in and kissed her. She kissed him back while frantically trying to catch up. When they'd parted ways on Sunday, she'd assumed that was pretty much it, then the letters and flowers implied perhaps it wasn't, but she hadn't really thought about it. Viktor was a professional Quidditch player. He was no longer stuck at some isolated school in Scotland because he was expected to compete in some ridiculous wizard challenge. He was out in the wider world. He had real options. Surely, he could do better than her. His mouth was more persistent and he slid his hands down to the sash of her dressing gown and began to untie it. Hermione considered that he didn't really know anyone else in England and he did just get incredible news that he clearly wanted to celebrate. It didn't mean anything. She was who he knew. She was available. As her dressing gown came open and he began to kiss his way down her body, she thought, Okay. He's sexy, smart, and kind. If he wants to hang around a bit and have a celebration shag, I'm fine with that. As his mouth reached the juncture of her thighs she realized she was more than fine with it. When she started to go weak in the knees he began working his way back up her body. She assumed they'd move upstairs but Viktor had other plans. He was still wearing all of his clothes including his coat. He dropped that to the floor and pulled his shirt over his head. She stood panting as she watched him undress. He really did have a very nice body. She was surprised when he unbuckled his belt that he didn't take off his trousers, he just unzipped them and ran a hand down her thigh.

"Ever had sex standing up?" he whispered in her ear.

Wide-eyed she shook her head.

"You're about to. Hop up."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and did as he asked. He caught her by the bum, a hand on each cheek and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He slipped inside her on the first try and she moaned as he pressed her back against the wall. She gasped as he pressed his forehead against hers. "You alright?" he asked, his voice low.

"Yes," she hissed.

It didn't take long. It was rough, but not cruel. She liked the frenzied intensity of it but was still surprised when she slipped over the edge with him. It was the closest he came to dropping her, but he managed to brace her against the wall and let her get her legs under her before he sank to his knees. Resting his hand against the wall, he looked up at her and grinned. "You are fantastic."

She laughed and pulled her dressing gown closed. "You're not so bad yourself. I was about to get in the shower. Care to join me?"

He pulled his pants up as he stood. "Lead on."

The hall bathroom upstairs had a walk-in shower without a tub. Her mother had insisted on it after a stay at a hotel in the United States. As Viktor kissed her under the spray, she could see the advantages. She kissed her way down his body. It was his turn to pant as he leaned back against the tile and watched her. After years of accommodating Ron, Viktor was fairly easy to manage and given what they'd just been up to, even easier.

"Hermione," Viktor said. "Wait. I am going to—"

She looked up at him and smiled, sliding her mouth off him. "Special occasion." She winked and resumed what she was doing.

xXx

A little while later, they were lying in what she now thought of as his room. "I have two things to ask you," he said.

She had been lightly dozing, so she pulled herself up on one elbow to look at him so she wouldn't fall asleep. "Okay."

"First, I need a place to live. Will you help me look at flats? I have some already lined up to see."

"Sure."

He smiled at her. "Thank you. Also, my cousin, Todor, has invited me to come to Amsterdam for a few weeks to stay in a house he is sharing with some friends. Would you like to join me?"

"Um," Hermione said. "That's…" she paused.

"Think about it. You do not have to decide now." His stomach growled loudly.

She chuckled and ran her hand over his belly. "Hungry?"

"Yes," he said. "Do you have any food that is not cereal cubes?"

"I have eggs and toast."

"Excellent," he said. "We will eat then."

They got dressed and headed downstairs.

While Hermione made breakfast, Viktor told her all about his week. "Training starts in a month, so we have time to do as we please before then. When should you hear about your job?"

She was surprised to hear him reference them as 'we,' he seemed to be including her in future plans as though they were in a relationship, but then maybe he was just looking for company until he started with the team. "I've probably got another two or three weeks on that."

He nodded. "Good. Plenty of time for fun then."

She set a plate of fried eggs and toast in front of him and sat down with her own. "What time are we supposed to look at flats."

"The first appointment is at ten."

Hermione looked at the clock. It was already past nine. "Where are we going?"

"Diagon Alley. Puddlemere United plays in Dorset, but I'm not one for country living."

Hermione nodded. "I know what you mean. I much prefer London. The countryside is nice, but I don't want to live there." She thought about the Burrow in all its lopsided glory. She and Ron had lived there for several months after they left the hospital. Pushing the thought away she ate her breakfast, while Viktor told her about the three flats they were going to look at. He openly discussed his budget which was considerable. Puddlemere United was paying him a lot more that the Vrasta Vultures had. Part of her wanted to tell him to just stay with her, but she knew that was ridiculous. They barely knew each other anymore and even if he did want a relationship with her, which she still couldn't really believe, it was much too soon to live together.

They finished breakfast and then Apparated to Diagon Alley and walked to the nearest apartment building. There was an estate agent there to meet them. She raised her eyebrows when she saw Hermione. "Oh my, aren't you—?"

"Yes," Hermione said with a tight smile.

"She is helping me choose a flat," Viktor said.

"Right," the agent said, bouncing back quickly. "Then let's get started."

The first flat was on the top floor of an old building. It had large rooms, big windows, and high ceilings. Hermione liked the feel of it, but it only had two bedrooms and Viktor wanted at least three, so he could have a guest room and a broom room. They moved on to the next building, which was much more modern and just outside of Diagon Alley. It was a mixed building with Muggle floors on the bottom and magical floors on top. The flat had four bedrooms, but both Viktor and Hermione felt it was a bit sterile. The last flat was back in Diagon Alley and a perfect blend of the other two. It was on the top floor of an older building, had three bedrooms, and all the charm of the first building. They both agreed it was perfect.

"When can I move in?" Viktor asked.

"As early as today if you sign the paperwork and make the deposit," the realtor said, delighted.

"Excellent. You have this paperwork?"

The realtor fished through her bag and extracted a long piece of parchment. Viktor looked at Hermione, "Will you read this with me? I want to make certain I am not missing anything with the language barrier. I speak English better than I read it."

"Of course," Hermione said, taking the parchment. They read over the contract, which was a standard year lease. Viktor signed and handed the realtor a bag of Galleons.

"Congratulations," the realtor said, all smiles, and handed him the key.

He pulled out his wand. "I am going to take some measurements." As he walked toward the back of the flat, the realtor turned toward Hermione. "You must be a very good friend if you're willing to do this on a day like today."

"What's so special about today?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Nothing I guess," the realtor said, backtracking. "I just thought with that Witch Weekly article out, you must be pretty upset. I'm sure Harry Potter is too."

"I don't get Witch Weekly," Hermione said, a sinking pit beginning to form in her stomach.

"Oh," the realtor said, looking alarmed. She grimaced. "Do you want to see it? I have it in my bag."

With trepidation, Hermione said, "I guess."

The realtor went into her bag again and handed Hermione a copy of the magazine. The cover was an old picture of her, Ron, and Harry taken sometime during late fifth or maybe early sixth year. She hadn't seen it before, but she stood between the two boys her arms over both their shoulders, Ron stooping so she could manage it. They were all laughing. The cover story was "Wild Times During the War." In smaller print beneath that the subheading was "The Secret History of the Golden Trio." It was written by Rita Skeeter. Hermione quickly scanned the article to find it was an interview with Ron and the conclusion Rita implied was that their nights in the tent were filled with wild ménage-a-trois sex. The magazine fell from her hands as Viktor was walking back into the room.

"Can you help me move?" he asked. "I would like to get it done today. I have an open Portkey."

"Yes," Hermione said tightly. "And then we should go to Amsterdam. I want out of England."

Viktor looked up from the piece of parchment he'd been scribbling measurements on. "Why? What has happened?"

"He's destroyed us," she said in a small, hollow voice. "What was he thinking?"

The realtor looked distinctly uncomfortable. "I should go. Congratulations again on the new flat," she said to Viktor, thrusting out her hand. He shook it without taking his eyes off Hermione. "I'll see myself out," the realtor said and hurried for the door.

Tears were streaming down Hermione's cheeks as Viktor reached for the magazine at her feet. He quickly scanned the article before tossing it back on the floor. "Why would he—?"

Hermione shook her head. "Don't. I can't." She covered her mouth with her hand and closed her eyes. She stood like that for a long moment before she wiped her tears with the back of her hand. "You said you wanted to move?"

"Yes. You do not mind going to Bulgaria for a bit?" Viktor said, concern etched across his features.

"That sounds perfect actually. Let's go."

He pulled a bent pen out of his back pocket. "Come outside." But when they stepped out of the lobby, there were three reporters waiting.

"Miss Granger!" They were all shouting. Photos were snapped as Viktor hurried her away. When they turned the corner of the building, he said, "We will go to the park." They Disapparated and reappeared in the copse of trees in the park where they'd gone sledding. He touched his wand to the pen and said, "Hold on."

Hermione took the other end and a moment later felt the familiar yank behind her navel. What felt like an eternity later, they landed in front of a modest white house. Viktor turned to her. "Are you all right?"

She held her stomach as a wave of nausea passed. "Yes. Wow. That was exhausting."

"Yes," Viktor said. "But I have gotten used to it. We will get water. It helps after such a long journey."

Hermione nodded and followed him to the door. Before they entered, he paused and turned back to her. "I have been living with my parents for the last year. This is their house. They do not speak English and they…" He paused and shook his head. "Come inside." He opened the door and they stepped into a small foyer. She followed him into a parlor that was decorated with furniture that seemed too fancy for the space. An older man sat reading in the corner of the room with his feet up on a velvet ottoman. He had Viktor's dark hair but it was starting to go gray. He grunted something at Viktor and Viktor grunted something back. Hermione decided she should probably learn some Bulgarian if she was going to continue dating him. A woman stepped into the parlor wiping her hands on an apron. She was all smiles until she caught sight of Hermione and then she scowled at Viktor. He turned to Hermione. "This is my mother." He said something in Bulgarian to his mother and then Hermione's name. Hermione stuck out her hand to the older woman, who looked at it as if it were covered in filth and didn't shake it. Viktor glared at his mother and said to Hermione, "That is my father over there. Come with me." He led her into the kitchen where he got them both a glass of water and then walked back into the parlor.

Hermione was surprised to find his mother following them up a narrow set of stairs. She kept up a steady stream of comments which Viktor seemed to ignore as though she weren't there. He stopped at a door and pulled out his wand and performed an elaborate unlocking spell. His mother followed them into the room. Hermione finally understood one word the older woman said and that was Nikolina, which Hermione knew to be the name of Viktor's dead fiancé. Viktor turned on his mother in a rage and the sheer force of whatever he said drove her from the room. Viktor flicked his wand and the door slammed shut behind her. He cast a locking charm and turned back to Hermione. "I am sorry."

"It's okay," Hermione said. "I didn't really understand any of that. She doesn't seem to care for me being here though, which seems odd. She doesn't even know me."

Viktor sighed. "She knows who you are."

Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"When we dated in school, Karkaroff took it upon himself to send them several letters telling them about it. They did not approve."

"Because of the age difference?"

"No." Viktor shifted uncomfortably. "They was more concerned about your blood status."

"Oh," Hermione said in a small voice.

Viktor sighed. "I am sorry. Their prejudices are not mine."

"I know that," Hermione said. He took her in his arms and she hugged him back. He bent down to kiss her. She brushed her lips softly against his, but he pressed her to deepen the kiss, sliding his hands up to cup her breasts as he did so. She pulled away. "What are you doing? We're in your parents' house."

"I do not care," he said, giving her a smoldering look.

She stepped away from him. "Well, I do. It's one thing to have the press calling me a slag. It's quite another to act like one."

His face fell. "Hermione—"

"Don't. Aren't we meant to be packing your things?"

"Of course. I am sorry." He looked sorry and somewhat embarrassed.

"It's fine. Let's just pack up and get out of here."

He nodded and pulled a trunk out of his closet. They spent the next half hour packing by casting shrinking charms on everything in the room until it all fit in the trunk. He took all the furniture as well as everything else, so the room was completely empty when they were done. Viktor closed the lid on the trunk and locked it before casting the unlocking spell on his bedroom door. His mother was standing in the hall and continued her diatribe as though it were uninterrupted while Victor cast a final shrinking charm on the trunk before picking it up and putting it in his coat pocket. Hermione followed him downstairs. They paused in the parlor where Viktor grunted something to his father who grunted back some kind of response. Viktor's mother followed them outside and made one final emphatic point while gesturing toward Hermione. Viktor continued ignoring her and pulled the bent pen out of his pocket. He tapped it with his wand before holding it out to Hermione. She grabbed the opposite end and felt the yank behind her navel. They had been in Bulgaria for less than an hour. They landed back in the copse of trees in the park. This time the nausea was too much and Hermione leaned against a tree and lost her breakfast.

"Are you all right?" Viktor asked sympathetically.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "I hate Portkeys."

He nodded. "I know, but they are the best way to go long distances."

"Do you mind if we walk back to my place so I can brush my teeth?"

"Of course not."

They walked the few blocks back to her parents' townhouse and Hermione went upstairs to freshen up.

xXx

Viktor was sitting at the kitchen table when she came back downstairs. "I need to buy so many things. I do not have parlor furniture. I do not have anything for the kitchen."

Hermione put her hands on her hips and looked around the kitchen. "My mother loved to shop," she said. "I bet I have some things you can use." She started opening cabinets. There was an extra kettle, a French press, a box with a four-place setting of dishes that had never even been opened, several extra pots and pans she knew she'd never use, and extra cleaning supplies under the sink. She went down to the basement and got a couple of boxes and began piling things into them. When she was done, Viktor had everything he'd need to make his flat livable until he had time to go shopping. He cast shrinking charms on everything and put the boxes into his coat pocket with his trunk from home. They went outside. Hermione pulled her wand to Disapparate, but he put a hand on her arm.

"Wait," Viktor said. "You know there are likely reporters waiting to see if you will come back."

Hermione lowered her wand.

"You do not have to come with me, but…"

"What?" Hermione asked.

"You need to decide how you want to handle them."

"Mostly I try not to."

Viktor smiled sympathetically. "That will not work if we are going to keep dating, besides it is a bad idea to run from them with that article out there."

"Really?" Hermione said incredulously. "It seems like all the more reason to run."

Viktor sighed. "If you run and hide, it makes it look like you are ashamed. Are you?"

She closed her eyes. She wasn't sure. It's not as though Ron had said what actually happened. No mention was made of the Poacher's Curse. The article was more of Rita speculating rather than Ron giving specifics of what actually happened between the three of them, which was one night, not the casual continuous sexual antics that Rita had implied. Rita had carefully crafted her words so she was just short of libel, so there could be no defamation suit. Of course, they would never sue anyway. After all, if questioned under Veritaserum, they couldn't lie, and while the truth wasn't their fault, it still happened. She had no interest in sharing the details and couldn't imagine Harry did either. Why Ron had ever consented to talk to Rita was beyond her. She could only imagine a great deal of alcohol was involved. She opened her eyes and looked at Viktor. "No. I'm not ashamed."

"Good," he said firmly. "And what about me? How do you feel about being seen with me?"

She squeezed his forearm. "I enjoy being with you. If people are going to stand around trying to get a picture of us then there isn't much we can do about that, is there?"

He smiled at her. "No. Not really. It is best to hold your head high and pretend it does not bother you."

She nodded. "I can do that."

He took her hand. "Good." They Disapparated and reappeared in front of his apartment building. There were reporters hanging around in hopes they'd show. Viktor squeezed her hand and they made their way toward the entrance. The reporters shouted her name and asked her questions about her relationships with Ron, Harry, and Viktor. She ignored them. Flash bulbs went off as Viktor held the door open for her and ushered her inside with his hand on the small of her back.

Once in his flat, Viktor drew out his wand and took the boxes and trunk out of his pocket and cast Engorgio on them. After that, Hermione set up the kitchen while he took his trunk back to his bedroom. Hermione finished first, so she joined him to help in the bedroom. He had almost everything put away but there were several framed prints still in his trunk.

"I think I want to put those out in the parlor. What do you think?" He asked.

Hermione put her hands on her hips and gave the room a once over. "I think it looks good." She hugged him and he kissed her cheek.

"The kitchen is all set."

"Good. Thank you." He sat down on the edge of his bed and took her hands in his. "I am very sorry about what happened at my parents' house. It was…" He shook his head trying to think of the word. "Inappropriate."

She smiled at him. "Thank you for saying so."

He sighed. "Being there makes me crazy. My father barely speaks to me because he is mad that I do not give him money, but he gambles, so he cannot be trusted with money. I support them, but only my mother can access the account." He sighed again, more heavily this time. "And my mother seems to want me to mourn Nikolina forever." He shook his head. "I loved her. I do miss her, but it has been over a year. I have to move on, but she tries to make me feel like a monster anytime I do."

Hermione took his face in her hands. "I'm so sorry."

"Do not be," he smiled at her. "You have made this move bearable."

She kissed him softly on the lips.

"Do you really want to go to Amsterdam?" Viktor asked.

"Yes. Do you already have a Portkey or do we need to get one made?"

"We'll need to apply, so it'll probably be two or three days."

Hermione gave him a knowing smile. "We'll see. Want to go to the Portkey Office? They're still open for another hour."

"All right," Viktor said.

xXx

A half an hour later, they left the Portkey Office with an empty beer bottle set to take them to Amsterdam in three hours. Viktor laughed at Hermione's satisfied smile. "I suppose being a war hero has its perks."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm no hero. I was there but Harry is the hero. I do get a certain notoriety for participation though, and yes, it does have its perks."

He smiled. "We should pack."