"What promise?": I only made a few promises last book, so if you can't figure out which it was, I guess you'll just have to wait to see how it all goes, won't you?

"Does Voldemort not know he's a black wizard?": He knows he can use black magic, but no, he doesn't know all the details like Jen does. Part of that is him being much like Dumbledore in believing that the Dark and Light Powers are just myths, but Nyarlathotep also takes a much more hands-off approach than the other Powers do, so he doesn't have any proof that the Powers are real. And he said he would be gone for eighteen months at most. Not one is saying he won't find out what he needs to know before then.

And in a similar vein…

"Why is the white wizard moving against Jen and not Voldemort?": It could be said that since Jen knows the truth of her nature while Voldemort is not, she is a greater threat. It could also be said that since Voldemort has yet to learn of the war between Light and Dark Powers, he is protected by the terms of the Pact just as the newly inducted white witch was in Ascendant. The more worrying reason, though, is that whereas Voldemort has set himself up as an enemy of the common people, Jen's actions make her look like a hero. That status, combined with her future political power, means that if she introduces the common wizard to the dark side of the Powers' pantheon, particularly to her own patron, some people could be swayed to worshipping Death. More worshippers means more people he could send Jen to who would be willing to serve him, and that means more black mages to fight against the Light Powers and their avatars. It's why the Light Power was worried that "this girl is in a position to restore the forgotten practices".

Isa Lumitus: I didn't realize until you mentioned it that the gold figure last chapter could be compared to Scion, so no, it wasn't a Worm reference. This is another (and bigger) asshole.

A little more interlude-y than normal, but several people have asked time and time again for a certain character to make a reappearance; this chapter is for them. And, you know, plot development stuff or something.

Disclaimer: Did Viktor Krum show up at Bill and Fleur's wedding to introduce Harry to the symbol of the Deathly Hallows, even though there was really no reason for Fleur to invite someone we have no indication she knew outside of being another Triwizard champion to such a personal event? If so, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whomever else she sold the rights to.


Chapter 2
We'll Always Have Sofia

Pulling his eyes away from one clock, Viktor Krum instead glanced through the window at the receiving room of the travel agency. The letter her raven had delivered said that she would be here on the thirtieth at eleven sharp, didn't it? He resisted the urge to pull the letter, well-worn from the constant unfolding and refolding it had gone through in the last month, from his pocket. Partly it was because by now he could recite it word for word, but it was also partly because he still clearly remembered how Petar had laughed upon learning how much he looked at it.

And that his laughter had only gotten louder when Viktor tried to defend himself.

He was allowed to be eager to see her, though! Throughout the last year, he had only exchanged a few letters with the young woman he was waiting so impatiently for – not that he begrudged her the long delays, not while she was going through her Competency year – and today was the first time he would again be able to lay eyes on her. He knew the way he was acting was unusual, some might even say disturbing, but… Well, he had given dating other women a chance after he returned to Bulgaria, slept with most of them, even at one point shared his bed with identical triplets. None of them intrigued him anything close to the same as the girl who first courted him through combat.

The hands of the clocks around him shifted ahead to mark the top of the hour, and a crowd of people popped into existence. Rather than try to barge into the room where they stood, however, he hung back. There was only one exit, and at the Customs agents' commands, the visitors were already forming themselves into a line so they and their bags could be checked before officially entering the country. All he had to do was keep an eye on the line, and—

And there she was.

In the middle of the line stood a dark-haired girl, a rucksack thrown over her shoulder and casually dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt that declared her a fan of some English band or another. Looking at her somewhat impartially, or at the very least from a distance, it was hard to remember that she had yet to turn sixteen. Someone who did not know her would assume she was in her very late teens, something Viktor was immensely thankful for; people would not give him grief for courting someone his own age, and since some of his friends suspected that he had already slept with her, it was important that she could convince anyone who wondered about it that she had been over the age of consent at the time. It would probably come out eventually, all bad news did, but the longer he could delay it, the better. People – understandably! – took a dim view of an eighteen-year-old man having sex with a fourteen-year-old girl, even if she had been the one to initiate it.

His feet were well into their tapping when the young woman left the line, purple eyes sliding over the crowd as though searching for someone. If that were not his cue, he didn't know what was. "Miss? Are you vaiting for somevun?" he asked, leaving his place against the wall and walking towards her.

Jen Black looked at him with suspicion written all over her face, not that he could blame her. "Thank you for your concern, but—" Her eyes shot wide when he was still a good distance away from her, and then her smile grew to the same size. "Viktor!"

If he wanted to wonder how she had seen through the flawless glamour he had cast upon himself, it would have to wait; Jen had dropped her bag to the ground and leapt at him, crashing into his stout frame and wrapping her arms around his neck. It was a far more demonstrative show of affection than he had expected, but that did not stop him from sliding his own hands over her hips to her back. "I almost didn't recognize you," she said as she rested her cheek on his chest and looked up at him.

And wasn't that an arousing sight? Shaking himself from that line of observation before something embarrassing happened, he shrugged and answered, "It is an essential skill for anyvun in my position. I am more surprised you could see drough it as easily as you did. And how did you do dat, anyvay?"

"A girl's got to have some secrets." She winked at him and, when he replied to her joke with an unimpressed look, pulled herself up to kiss his lips softly, and then with rising passion. By the time she finally pulled away, he had quite forgotten what they were talking about. Cocking her head in that curious, birdlike way she had, she stared at nothing for a moment. "I knew I had forgotten to do something," she eventually muttered.

"Vhat?"

"Learn Bulgarian."

Ah. Yes, that would be a bit of a problem. Although a substantial minority of the population knew at least some English, it was still a minority. "You vouldn't happen to speak Russian, vould you?" he joked. If so, she would find a far larger number of people she could speak with.

Her voice was flat as she answered, "No. I am bilingual, but unless we're secretly headed to Haiti, I doubt fluency in Creole will do me much good."

"No, probably not. Oh, vell," he said, the solution obvious, "I know it vill not be de most convenient ding for you, but I can tell you vhatever it is you vant to understand. And your exam vill be in English, anyvay, so it is not as dough you vill be at a disadvantage dere."

"Except that would just be a burden on you to have to translate for me all the time. I'm sure there's a better solution. It's just a matter of finding it." She frowned in thought for a moment, and when she looked up again, one of her eyebrows was raised in silent question. "Viktor, do you trust me?"

It was never a good sign when a request was prefaced by that particular statement. "Trust you how?"

"Just relax," she said with a smile and a roll of her eyes. Those same eyes closed, and she hastily added, "Oh, and just so you know: this might itch a little."

Itch? Maybe his own grasp of English was not as good as he thought it was, either. He couldn't think of a single reason why— What. Without. Transform. Matricide. Eggplant, thirsty, yesteryear, rapid, deleterious, snifffactualliverwursttakennoxioussimpleelongated—

"The hell?" he snapped, his words returning after their sudden absence. That was without a doubt the strangest experience he had ever had. It was as if he had been unable to think; not because his actual thoughts had stopped, but more like the words he had always framed them in were missing, leaving him without a way to make sense of his own mind.

"Now you see why I didn't try to explain what it was I wanted to do," Jen said quietly, giving him a hesitant smile. He just stared at her in shocked disbelief. She had just said she only knew English and Creole, but what poured out from between her lips now was perfect Bulgarian, and more, she spoke it with the exact same accent he had. "There really is no good way to describe it."

"Jen, did you just…?"

"Borrow your knowledge of your mother tongue and duplicate it wholesale in my own mind?" She shrugged sheepishly. "It's an… unconventional application of mind-reading, to be sure, but that is no reason not to use it. It sure would have made learning Creole easier, that's for sure, not that she would have let me in," she added with a purse of her lips.

There was only one part of her statement that really caught his attention. "Mind-reading?"

"Of course," she agreed, as if what she had just done was perfectly normal for her. Seeing his wary expression, she huffed. "My aunt and I use it all the time to share secrets we would rather no one else know just yet. Have no fear, I know exactly what I'm doing."

That admission really made him more worried rather than less. "Just… don't read my mind again, please. Or my friends' or family's," he amended as he pulled his way out of their embrace. He had not even known that was possible, and the knowledge that someone, even this woman, could be peeking into his head without him having a clue was incredibly disturbing.

Standing alone again, Jen looked him up and down, an unreadable expression on her face, before walking over to her dropped bag. She did not seem to be offended by his actions, something he was thankful for as he had not stopped to consider just how his rejection could have been taken before doing it, but considering her family's purported political leanings, that she could mask her true emotions was not much of a stretch. Probably better that they move on, both physically and in their conversation, as fast as possible. He stretched out his hand to her, and she laid her own on top of it.

A crack signaled their Disapparation, and then the walls of his living room appeared around them. "Well, this is it," he said, not having anything better to introduce the modest flat with. "I don't spend a lot of time here, actually, generally just the weeks before our home pitch matches. The rest of the time, we're off in some other town sleeping in our team bus, and during the off-season I normally go to the countryside, at least for a while." He shrugged. "I grew up there, so it's nice to head back home."

"That does explain why it seems so spartan," she agreed. He did not have much in the way of decoration on the walls, only a few photographs of his friends from Túzha and Durmstrang or of past and present teammates, and there were not many pieces of furniture, either. There had never been any reason for it, not when he lived alone. "It's still cleaner than the stereotypical bachelor's pad, though, so thank you."

"I can't really take the credit for that," he admitted. "There's an excellent cleaning service based in this district, so I rent a house-elf for fifteen minutes every Tuesday afternoon to keep everything tidy. It really is well worth the price."

She nodded in understanding and began exploring what little there was to his place. It did not take her long; all that was there was the living room, a kitchenette that saw occasional use, a bathroom, and a single bedroom. The thoughtful hum she made when she discovered that made him start worrying. Had he presumed too much? They had discussed this toward the end of his stay at Hogwarts, but that did not mean circumstances could not have changed since then. "You don't have friends spend the night here often, do you?" she asked, turning to face him with a knowing expression. "Or perhaps you do, but they are a very specific type of friend?

"Regardless," she continued without giving him an opportunity to embarrass himself, "I have to wonder: since I am not nearly so rude a guest as to kick you out of your own bed, where do you plan for me to sleep?"

No, she was giving him that opportunity, after all. Waving his hand weakly at the king-sized bed, the bedroom expanded enough that it did not look crowded, he said, "We could always share, if you didn't mind. It isn't as though it lacks in space."

"Why, Mister Krum, that almost sounded like a proposition." And with that statement, the same words he remembered from over a year previously, his doubts were washed away. She dropped her rucksack onto the floor and propped one hand on her hip, a crafty smile beginning to peek out. "Want to try again?"

Stepping forward, he wrapped his left arm around her waist to pull her close and buried the fingers of his right hand into her thick hair. Her eyes rolled up to watch him while she rubbed her cheek against his palm. "Jen, I want you to stay right next to me. I want to go to sleep with you lying on top of me." He bent down and kissed her with all his passion; he was not a man skilled with words, so instead he let his actions tell her what he felt. "I want to make love to you until you can barely walk the next day." The kiss this time was sweet, gentle. Yes, he wanted to slake his lust upon her, but sex was not all he was interested in. "And then I want to wake with you curled up in my arms. Sleep in my bed, Jennifer."

Jen panted in his arms, her eyes closed. "I don't remember you being quite this suave the last time we saw each other," she said, her voice breathy. The pink tip of her tongue darted out to run over her lips. "You've been practicing while I was gone. If this is the result, I most heartily approve."

He answered that statement with an unseen smile, and his left hand slipped underneath her shirt to slowly run up her spine. "Wait," she suddenly said, opening her eyes and frowning. "Before we do anything, you deserve to know something. I'm currently in a relationship, but she does know that I was coming here this summer and that the history you and I share is far from innocent."

'She'? "You have a girlfriend?" he asked, which she confirmed with a nod. Well, things were about to become either very awkward or very interesting. "And you told her about us?"

She shook her head. "I didn't tell her who you were, but she noticed enough details to put all the pieces together. I did, however, explain how important it was that the details stayed a secret."

That was certainly a relief, he decided with a sigh. "And she is agreeable with you sleeping with someone else?"

"Agreeable… might be a bit strong," she eventually admitted. "It would be better to say that she understands that the situation is complicated. But since my… hmm… appetite has already caused problems between us, I felt you needed to know about this before anything happened."

"You care a great deal for her, don't you?" he wondered out loud.

She looked away and whispered, "Yes."

A sigh escaped his lips, and he leaned his head down to rest his forehead against hers. "I have already made my opinion clear, but this is your decision. If you want to, I am more than willing to share my bed with you. If you feel it would put too much strain on your romance, I can spend a few days sleeping on the sofa. I don't have to worry about taking a Competency exam," he said when she pulled back and opened her mouth to interrupt, "and as I have no practices to attend, I can lose a few nights of sleep with little consequence. You do not have that luxury."

Sucking on her lip for a moment, Jen's mouth twitched in a weak smile. "I've already said that she knows about this. I'm not going to rub it in her face when I get back, and I've done my best not to bring it up around her, but… There are aspects of my life that she doesn't have to contend with in her own. This is, or might be, related to one of them."

Despite her hinting around the subject, he knew what she was talking about, or at least he thought he did. She was almost old enough to begin receiving marriage offers, and while he and presumably her girlfriend could marry for love, she was nobility, and their rules of marriage were a little different and much more stringent. Jen would be expected to pick her husband in light of who would best elevate her House's status in society.

The formal courting process in Bulgaria could and did take years, and he would be surprised if it were much different in Britain. In the process of finding a spouse, most future ladies slept with a few of their favorite suitors. This was according to a classmate who was a branch member of a minor House, and furthermore he had explained that not only did it serve a practical purpose – a sexually compatible couple would obviously have a greater chance of producing children – but it was sometimes the only influence a noblewoman might have in the final decision. Some betrothal contracts still included virginity clauses, but those were less and less common as the years went on. If Jen continued with her romantic relationship, it would be difficult to stay monogamous while still fulfilling her duties to her family.

He all too easily found himself sympathizing with this mystery girl's displeasure.

Jen shook her head with a sigh. "And I even told myself that I wouldn't stress myself out over this. We already had our plans before she and I got together. If she gets upset, it will be my problem, not yours."

"But are you sure?" he pressed. "I told you, I don't mind if our plans have to change."

"I'm not sure one way or another," she answered with a sad laugh.


A short woman opened the door to the women's lavatory and ushered Jen into the hallway beyond.

"Welcome to the Ministerial Testing Center," the witch said, her plain skirt and cardigan melting into official-looking robes the instant she passed over the threshold. A tug pulled the key out of the lock and shut the door, and then she gestured for Jen to follow, the pair sweeping down the corridor past many identical and unmarked doors to the sole one in sight that stood out. "Just to make sure, you are Jennifer Black, from Britain, here to take the International Competency Exam for the subject of Offensive Magic and the Dark Arts, yes?"

Jen let her eyes wander the hallway they had just walked down for a moment. She had wondered why the Bulgarian ministry would not conduct their examinations in the ministry building proper, but then she met her guide in an otherwise unremarkable restaurant in the Muggle world. If one could reach this place from a variety of doorways scattered all across the country, she could see why the government would want it separated somewhat. "That is correct."

"Very well. Before we begin, I need to inform you that the examiner scheduled to administer the practical portion of your exam had a family emergency, and her replacement needs a few days to return from his vacation. Therefore, your practical exam will take place on Thursday morning rather than this afternoon. Will that be a problem?"

If it were, would you really care?, Jen wondered to herself. The woman's voice was absolutely lifeless; if it were not for her ability to feel other people's magical cores, she would be tempted to double-check that she was not dealing with an incredibly advanced golem. It was a good thing that she already had plans to spend a few days in Bulgaria, though she would need to call the travel agency and reschedule her return portkey. "It's fine."

The older witch gave her a plastic smile and finally opened the door, revealing a small room with twelve tables facing a desk at the front of the room. "Most students who wish to take additional Competencies do so immediately after the school year ends, so you've managed to avoid the rush by scheduling this late." Drawing her wand and giving it a wave, the woman caused one of the desk's drawers to unlock itself and a thick sheaf of paper to fly onto the middle table in the front row. A trio of quills and an ink bottle soon joined it.

Jen sat down in one of the two seats at that table while the other witch pulled a large hourglass out of another drawer, one far too small for the timepiece to rest inside without magical aid. "You will have two hours in which to complete this exam. Even though there is no one else in the room, it is our policy that all examinees will still be proctored to prevent anyone from cheating by any means. You may begin… now."

She flipped the test over at the same time the hourglass turned upside down. Only a hundred questions, she noted; that was shorter than her OWL theoretical exams, but considering the subject matter, she would bet that the questions were going to be harder to compensate for the extra time.

Question 1, she read to herself, quietly thankful that this test was still being administered in English despite her demonstrating her newfound proficiency in Bulgarian, A) Name the four primary humors and B) give one spell that would be enhanced through harmonization for each.

Her eyebrows rose to her hairline. They had to be opening up with an easy question to give the test-takers some false confidence. Quickly linking the beetle-to-button transfiguration, glamours, the basic shield charm, and the sticking charm to bile, blood, phlegm, and feces, respectively, she moved on to the next. Question 2, On which three sapient species does the Caligo Ambaginis curse have no effect?

A smile formed on her face as her quill danced on the page. That expression stayed there for the rest of the two hours.


"So?" Viktor asked when the door of the flat opened, not looking up as he turned the kebapcheta he had on the grill pan on top of the stove. "How do you think it went?"

"Odd," Jen decided after a moment. "But odd in a good way. What are you making?"

"You'll see. Table's outside." The girl settled in one of the two chairs he had set up on the balcony – it and the table itself were transfigured, though the tableware thankfully was not – and he charmed the dishes he had been working on for the last hour to follow him as he walked out to join her. "It's been a while since I've done much cooking, so you'll have to forgive me if it didn't turn out exactly how I wanted it."

The girl smiled even as the food drifted to the table, not at all disappointed by the simple fare: just a shopska salad, a bowl of cold tarator appropriate for the hot summer sun, and the sausages. Filling her plate and bowl, she gave an appreciative hum after the first couple of bites. "So you did well, then?" he asked a few minutes later.

"I think so. It was just the theory portion today; some issues came up that prevented me from doing the practical this afternoon." Swallowing another bite of meat, she asked, "What do you think it says about me that even though the Dark Arts written exam was much more difficult than most of the tests I took at Hogwarts, at the same time it was also far more interesting?"

"It says that you love a challenge." Waiting until she had put a spoonful of tarator in her mouth, he added, "And that you are a terrible person."

Jen spluttered at that remark, and he laughed despite her glare; the expression lost much of its gravity when she had white soup dripping down her chin. Rather than immediately reply, she dabbed her face dry for a moment. "Thank you, Viktor, for that sterling comment on my character. You sure know how to sweet-talk a girl."

"What can I say? Like all skills, it comes with practice."

"And if that's what you consider charm, it's no wonder you've had such trouble finding a girlfriend." She shook her head with a huff and arranged her face into something just a little too exaggerated to be true sorrow. "To think that you would say such cruel, hurtful things. Now I feel absolutely awful."

Forcing himself to frown, he said in a beseeching voice, "Oh, Jen, I am ever so sorry. It was never my intention to harm such a delicate flower." The girl could not hold back her laughter at that comment. "What can I possibly do to make it up to you?"

"I don't know. After that big of an insult, it would have to be something extremely impressive."

If that wasn't the perfect segue into his surprise, he did not know what was. "As it just so happens," he said, getting up from the table and walking back to the kitchen, "I may have just the thing." When he came back, he opened the envelope and pulled out the two cream-colored cards inside, writing in gold ink on one side explaining what they were. "I believe you said you wanted to see Ruslan i Lyudmila last night?"

Her eyes sparkled as she grabbed for the opera tickets. "I can't accuse you of not listening to me, can I? That was just an idle comment." Looking up at him, she pointed out, "These are for tonight's performance at the National Theater."

"Yes, they are." He figured no matter how her exam went today, this present would be appreciated. If she thought she did well, as she had, it would be celebratory; if she were worried, it would take her mind off the test. "Why do you sound like that's a problem?"

"Viktor, I came here expecting to take an exam, and the clothes I brought reflect that. Not even the nicest outfit I have with me would be appropriate for a high-fashion opera."

"Good," he said with a relieved smile.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What did you do?"

"I did nothing." Enjoying the irritation that flashed across her face at his unhelpful brevity, he waited a moment before he continued, "You remember Anastasiya, yes? You met her yesterday."

"You mean when your teammates Flooed over while we were in the middle of sex and laughed at our embarrassment for a solid ten minutes? How could I forget?" Her voice softened. "You said she was the Keeper, right? Tall, dark, very pretty, originally from Slovakia?"

"Romania, but yes. She's wanted to meet you ever since she discovered I had 'found' someone, and I called her and told her what I had planned. She is a dab hand at transfiguration, so she went out to find something that would fit you while I got the tickets." Seeing her unsure expression, he explained, "She likes you, even with the unconventional introduction, and was quite eager to help."

"She saw enough of me, and paid enough attention, that she could whip up a mannequin on demand?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "That is a little odd, you have to admit. I suppose it's better than her digging through my clothes, though. When does she plan on bringing it over?"

"She dropped it off shortly before you came back. She wouldn't let me see it, but she said it's hanging in the closet."

Jen frowned. "How? I was only gone for a couple of hours. If it's something nice enough for tonight, I would think it would take longer than that for her to get everything together. When I was getting fitted for my Yule ball dress, I was there for almost four hours." He just smiled, and her face revealed when she had put the pieces together. "That's why you were already awake when I got up this morning."

"Maybe, maybe not. Go and change; if you don't like it, we still have time to get it re-tailored or find something else."

She eyed him suspiciously for a few seconds more before standing, and he listened intently once she was out of sight. There was, sadly, no squeal of delight, but neither did she immediately come out wearing a frown. Five minutes passed uneventfully, leaving him progressively more impatient and worried. What was taking so long?

"Viktor? Can you come over here?"

Jen did not sound distressed; maybe she just needed help with a zipper or something. He was halfway across the living room when she stepped out from the short hallway, and he staggered to a halt. All he could do was stare.

She smirked at his expression and walked closer, the ankle-length black dress making the swaying of her hips almost hypnotic. A flash of white caught his eye as her left leg slipped through the slit in the side of the dress, the fabric parting until it revealed nearly the entire length of her thigh. Each step made the dress shimmer, and the shine matched the silver-and-sapphire earrings – the earrings he had given her! – that dangled just above her collarbones. Jen fluttered her eyelashes to call attention to the pale blue of her eyelids. The only hint of some color other than black and blue was the red heart dangling from her choker and the darker lipstick on her smirk.

Heels clicking lightly on the floor, she came almost to within arms' reach. "I take it you approve?" she asked in a smoky voice.

"Oh, my," he whispered. Reaching out to try to grab her waist and pull her to him, he was surprised when she backed away. "Jen?"

The girl laughed. "As good as I'm sure this dress would look lying on your floor, it might get a little too wrinkled to wear to the performance tonight."

Damn. If it weren't for the reservations he had made at the Shahzadeh Restaurant, he would seriously consider rearranging their plans for the evening. Dinner after rather than before, somewhere there was music and dancing that would let him show off the gorgeous young woman who would be adorning his arm. "Are you sure?"

Chuckling again, Jen turned around and sashayed back into the bedroom. "Don't worry," she called out, "it's not like you won't get to unwrap your present soon enough. You just need a little patience!"

Patience. With her looking like that. Right. Viktor sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands. A few hours sitting at the theater would be long enough for their dinners to settle, wouldn't it? Maybe they could still have that dancing, after all.


Perhaps that wasn't such a good idea, Viktor thought to himself later that night. The dancing he and Jen had done at the club they visited had left him keyed up and excited, and while the much more private dance they shared once they got home had relaxed him somewhat, he was still unable to quiet his mind and go to sleep.

Jen shifted and flung her right leg over his before burrowing her face back in his chest. She clearly did not have that same problem.

With little else to do, he found himself playing with her hair, and looking down at her, he found himself wondering about the lone piece of jewelry she still had on. Her dress did now rest on the floor, and her earrings had been banished to the dresser, but that black choker remained. What made it so strange was that it did not fit the rest of her style. It was a simple thing, and to him it looked more like costume jewelry than anything else.

Maybe, he speculated, its value was sentimental rather than material; a gift from her girlfriend? Rubbing the band left him even more confused. The pendant itself was nothing special, but the strap it hung from felt like unusually slippery leather. He had never encountered anything quite like it, and he eyed the silhouette of the girl sleeping half on top of him speculatively.

Surely she wouldn't mind if he took it off her for the night.

His fingers followed the curve of her neck, and while they found a hard lump, it was no buckle or snap, just a flat, hard disc. Some strange kind of lock? Carefully shifting the choker around so as not to wake her, he squinted in the dim light coming in through the window to no avail. He just could not make out any details.

With a sigh, he reached out with his left hand and felt around blindly until his fingers found the handle of his wand where it sat on his end table. He had never really tried casting with his off hand, but the single jab for Lumos was simple enough. A small speck of light shined from the tip of the wand onto the black stone fastened to the band. His breath caught in his lungs as his eyes traced the design etched onto it in gold: a circle inside a triangle, both bisected by a vertical line. He knew that shape; all European wizards did. It was all but burned into their cultural memory.

Why did Jen bear the mark of Grindelwald?

The light, dim though it was, made Jen frown, and after a moment she opened her mouth in a wide yawn. "Go back to sleep."

Viktor grimaced. He had not wanted to wake her, but now that she was, he was going to get some answers. "What is this?"

"Wha?"

A shake of her shoulders, far less gentle than he would otherwise be, forced her eyes open. "Jen. Why are you wearing this?" He poked the choker for emphasis.

That seemed to finish waking her, for her eyes were far clearer now than they had been a second ago. "It's not important."

"You wear the mark of a monster who slaughtered thousands of innocent people. It is important, and I think I deserve to know."

A moment passed, then two. Finally, Jen rolled off from on top of him to stare up at the ceiling. "It isn't Grindelwald's mark."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's really not. Do you know anything about the Old Ways?" she asked before he could say anything. Staring at her, he slowly shook his head. "Maybe they're called something else here. The veneration of a pantheon of fourteen gods, seven light and seven dark. Does any of this sound familiar?"

"Vaguely." Someone a couple of years ahead of him at Durmstrang had been expelled for… something, he couldn't remember what exactly, but he thought the boy's defense had involved the right to practice his religion. He was in his second year at the time, and this had not sounded important enough to pay much attention to.

Jen tapped the stone. "One of them is Death, and this symbol has been associated with him for centuries. I don't know why Grindelwald decided to repurpose it for his own ends; maybe he was trying to equate himself with Death or thought he was Death's earthly incarnation. I don't know. All I do know is that it has a much greater meaning than one man's hatred."

Okay. On the one hand, Viktor was quite relieved that the woman he had fallen so hard for was not a supporter of total extermination of all people not exactly like her, but on the other… "Why do you wear Death's mark, then?"

The hesitation now was longer that before. Was she going to answer or not? A solid minute passed in silence before Jen sat up in the bed. "Because I worship him," she bit out, "just as members of my family have for generation upon generation. It's an important tradition, one we've upheld even when we have to hide it because some people are irrationally fearful of what we do in our own lives or assume that we're irredeemably evil because one madman co-opted the sign of our faith."

Just like you did just now. The statement remained unvoiced but still hung thick in the air. Not knowing what else to do, he reached out for her, but she stood before his arm was halfway and snatched up her wand. A twirl conjured a short robe that she quickly wrapped around herself. "Jen, I'm sorr—"

"I'm not dealing with this right now," she snapped, cutting off his apology. "We can talk about it tomorrow. Maybe. Good night."

He watched her stomp out of the bedroom and dropped his head back down onto the pillow with a groan. What was that curious English phrase? He had stuck his foot in his mouth? This certainly qualified. Even knowing that there was no way he could have predicted her reaction, this argument was still going to make things between them far less comfortable in the near future.

Standing up, he walked over to the doorway and peered out into the living room to find Jen lying on the couch, face turned toward the cushions and a conjured pillow under her head. He walked back to the bed and flopped down on it, one thick fist burying itself in his own pillow. That couch was not a comfortable place to sleep, which meant she was still going to be cranky when she woke up.

Tomorrow morning was looking uglier and uglier.


Jen looked up at Viktor, once again hiding behind his glamour, and wrapped her arms around him in a farewell hug. Her terror at his discovery of the Resurrection Stone and her indignation at his accusation had mostly faded by the next morning, and considering she had no idea when she would again have the chance to experience Sofia, she had forced down the last few dregs of temper and resolved to enjoy herself. The obvious sincerity of his apology hadn't hurt matters, either.

His arms squeezed back, and reluctant though he seemed to be about it, he eventually pulled away. "I wish you didn't have to go," he muttered, his voice almost lost in the cacophony of the travel office.

"I know," she said softly. "I somewhat wish I didn't, either. But I need to head back home."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it."

She smiled and raised her hand to lay it gently against his cheek. Even with the fight her third night here, she had enjoyed her six days in Bulgaria. Some of that was her confidence about her exam – her proctor for the practical portion had been quite enthusiastic regarding her display – but most of it was because she really did like spending time with Viktor. Even with all the lies she had to keep straight to hide her origins, she still felt like she could relax a little more around him than she could around most people. Tracey, of course, was an exception because the Slytherin already knew so many of her secrets, and Luna…

A cold hand gripped her heart as that realization set it. In some ways, being around Viktor felt much the same as being around Luna. There were obvious differences, too, such as Viktor being much more open about his protectiveness and taking more of a lead, but some of that could be attributed to gender roles and the expectations that were part of a heterosexual relationship as opposed to the murkier rules of her and Luna's own pairing. But how she felt about Viktor compared to Luna?

Baron protect her, she might just be falling in love with him, too.

Swallowing faintly, she schooled her expression to give no hints of the disconcerting – or, if she were being honest, terrifying – possibilities running through her head. "No, you don't have to like it, but it doesn't make it any less true." And wasn't that an ironic answer! "Besides, it isn't like I'm going to disappear. I'm sure we'll see each other again at some point. We just don't know when."

"No, we don't." He placed his hand on her shoulder and slowly ran it down and up her arm, but before they could say anything more, the clock behind them began chiming. Her portkey back to Britain was about to depart.

She gave him a weak smile and stepped backwards. "Goodbye, Viktor."

"Goodbye, Jen." Her hand fell upon the metal circle the rest of the people were already holding. He opened his mouth to say something else, but then the clock struck three, and his words were lost to the whirling air.


The real reason Jen showed off her skills with Legilimency? I got tired of writing Viktor's accent midway through that first scene. And the Shahzadeh Restaurant is not mine, unfortunately; I'm just borrowing it from Rakeesh's absolutely incredible story A Long Journey Home.

Silently Watches out.