"Albania? Again?"

Hermione snapped the heavy book shut and looked up at Viktor.

"It's nothing. Just some light reading."

He stared pointedly down at the huge leather-bound tome, but she refused to rise to his bait and explain herself. With a sigh, he sat down beside her, turning his body to face hers before placing a hand on the cover of the book. It took everything in her not to push it off.

"Is always Albania. Every time, you have different answer why." He peered at her, leaning closer and gazing at her face. She could see the frustration there, but she could also see the moment when his eyes softened and his expression shifted to one of deep concern.

"Hermione. What is wrong?"

Suddenly, her hands felt very interesting. Staring at them intently, she tried to come up with some sort of excuse. The boys would not appreciate her sharing anything about their investigation with Viktor: especially Ron, who she was only just now starting to consider forgiving.

Viktor gently laid his hand over hers. The touch grounded her in a way she loved and resented. The strong fingers, the warm callused palm: all of it anchored her and reassured her and part of her hated that. She shouldn't need that.

But one glance up at his face, full of confusion and concern and affection, undid the knot of resistance in her.

She could trust him. She could trust him with anything.

Even this.

And she was so tired of trying to save her friends and the house elves and solve mysteries and go to classes all by herself. Oh, Harry tried to help, she knew. But he had other worries. And Ron was a good sounding board for ideas, but he wasn't particularly interested in doing actual work, even when he didn't think that her ideas and her priorities were stupid. Which he usually did.

Hermione gathered her resolve before flipping her hand over and lacing her fingers with Viktor's.

Maybe she didn't have to do this all alone, after all.

"If I tell you this, you can't breathe a word of it to anyone. Ever."

His brows knitted together, giving him that vaguely neanderthal look that people made fun of when they thought he wasn't around to hear them.

"What is wrong?"

"Your word, Viktor. Please."

He sighed, squeezing her hand lightly.

"Ok. You have my word. I will keep your secret."

Hermione looked back down at their hands, marveling for a moment at how much bigger his was compared to hers.

"There's something going on in Albania. Something...sinister. And I'm trying to find out what."

Whatever he'd been expecting, it apparently hadn't been that.

"How you know?"

Gathering her thoughts, she tried to condense months of mysteries into a few brief sentences.

"My first year at Hogwarts, the Defense professor, Professor Quirrell, was possessed by the spirit of You-Know-Who-"

"What?!" Viktor interrupted, his eyes wide and his expression so startled it nearly made her laugh.

"Oh yes. Harry said you could see You-Know-Who's face in the back of his head and everything."

At this, Viktor shook his head violently and muttered something very rude in Bulgarian. At least, she assumed it was rude, for his cheeks flushed a little in embarrassment, as they always did when she caught him swearing.

"So, anyways. That all happened after Professor Quirrell went on a trip to Albania. Now, three years later, and a witch working for the Triwizard Tournament goes missing in Albania and is never heard from again. Nobody is even looking for her. And then Harry's name gets entered into the tournament."

"And you think something is in Albania. Something evil."

"Exactly."

"Then, why the book?"

"What? What do you mean, why the book? Where else would I find information on Albania?"

Viktor chuckled softly, though his expression was still dark and concerned, his dark eyes solemn and his mouth pressed into a thin line.

"If I am evil wizard, hiding in Albania, I will not hide in this book. I will hide away from witch and wizards who can find me."

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. "I know that. But where else can I look?! I'm stuck here in the castle all year; it's not like I can fly out to Albania and start asking if anyone's seen a dark wizard around."

He grew still, his eyes squinting a little as he considered her problem.

"I think I can help. Maybe. May take time. You trust me to do this, ok?"

"Trust you to do what?"

"Albania is neighbor with Bulgaria. Have connections you do not. Might be able to get news from there. Much newer than what is in your book."

That...hadn't actually crossed her mind before.

Sometimes, she really doubted she was the brightest witch of her age.

"That would be...that would be lovely, Viktor. Thank you."

Pushing aside her giant book on Eastern European Wizarding Settlements, she prepared to finish the rest of her holiday assignments. But not before placing a lingering kiss on the corner of Viktor's mouth.

Well, maybe two lingering kisses.

=/=/=

In all her years at Hogwarts, Hermione could honestly say that she'd never, ever, ever wanted one of her holiday breaks to be longer.

Until now.

The final week of the holidays had been a whirlwind of laughter, giggling, and stolen kisses. With her stubborn avoidance of Ron—and, by extension, Harry—she was driven instead into the company of Ginny, Neville, and Viktor.

Mostly Viktor, if she was being honest.

They'd frequently studied in the library. Somewhat. In between daydreams and shared confidences and the occasional snog session.

Hermione hadn't spent much of her life wondering what a relationship should feel like, and yet, when she stopped to think about it, she still felt surprised. After all, Ginny's relationships were all heat and broom closets. Harry's were one-sided looks of longing and heartbreak. Her grandparents had been casually, coolly distant with each other. Her own parents, while deeply in love, fought like cats and dogs, their otherwise calm lives punctuated with the occasional vicious argument.

No. Her relationship with Viktor didn't feel at all like she'd expected it to. It was just…easy. Honestly, she'd found that spending time with Viktor felt a lot like spending time with Harry or Ginny. If she also wanted to kiss Harry or Ginny.

Or sit on Harry or Ginny's lap.

Or doodle their names together when she let her brain wander.

Or…

She cut off that train of thought and impatiently shoved her quill into its ink pot. There was a neat little puddle of ink on her parchment where the quill had hovered several seconds too long, entirely ruining the essay she'd been working on.

Oh well. She'd wanted to expand on the pre-Roman uses of henbane, anyways.

While rooting around in her bag for a fresh sheet of parchment, she felt someone sit down in the seat next to her.

It was about time Viktor joined her for breakfast. He'd been promising to for days and days, but so far didn't have...what, the guts? The time? The inclination?

Whipping up with a grin, she felt the smile quickly slide off her face.

It was just Harry.

And Ronald.

"Come on Mione, you'd think you weren't happy to see us." Ron said with somewhat forced cheer.

He'd been trying to pretend that the Yule Ball hadn't happened for the last week entirely. As if she'd just forget his humiliating and hurtful words, his abominable behavior, his jealousy and spite. Not that she'd given him any opportunities to apologize. Or planned to.

But still.

It was the principle of the matter.

"What is it?" she snapped, scooping up her ruined essay and roughly shoving it in her bag.

"We wanted to talk to you," Harry started.

Oh, she was sure they did.

After all, she owed them forgiveness, after all, right?

As. If.

"I'm listening," she bit out, turning her glare onto Ron, who at least had the decency to look sheepish.

"We saw something weird, the night of the Yule Ball. On the map."

"Well? What did you see?" Her voice was frosty with ire, but she could admit she was intrigued. Damn her curiosity.

"Barty Crouch in Moody's office. He kept pacing back and forth." Ron said.

"I suppose that's a little odd."

"What's odd, is that Crouch wasn't at the Yule Ball. Percy came instead. I had to listen to him talk for ages," Harry said, leaning closer.

"Now that is weird. Why would he come to the castle but not attend the Yule Ball?"

"That's what we thought, too." Ron started loading his plate with bacon and eggs. "Sounds bloody suspicious, if you ask me. What was he looking for in there?"

"He must be hiding something. Why else would he send Percy and pretend he was sick?" Harry chimed in.

"He mustn't've wanted anyone to know he was here."

The gears in Hermione's brain began to whir. This was a mystery. A real, solvable, local mystery. Which was exactly what she needed after spinning her wheels on the Bertha Jorkins Albania problem for literal months with almost nothing to show for it.

A nasty, dreadful, terrifying thought entered her brain.

"Harry." She paused, almost afraid to say anything out loud.

Harry and Ron looked up from their breakfasts expectantly. They'd obviously counted on her solving this problem, which felt...nice. And awful. And wonderful. And annoying. All at once.

"Harry," she began again. "What if Crouch if is the one who entered your name in the tournament? He's a powerful wizard, who was aware of all the precautions ahead of time. He was in the perfect spot to make sure your name came out of that goblet."

Harry's brow furrowed.

"He was...weirdly insistent. When my name was drawn. Snape wanted them to throw me out entirely, but Crouch said I had to stay in the tournament."

"Huh," Ron chimed in, pausing for a long moment to swallow down a gulp of pumpkin juice. "Never thought I'd agree with Snape about anything."

The boys chuckled, but there wasn't much humor to it. The fact of the matter was that Harry was stuck. Stuck in a terrible, horrible, deadly situation that was only going to get worse. While the boys liked to pretend that the tournament was all fun and games, the Hungarian Horntail model that zoomed around Harry's room trying to light anything and everything on fire was a stark (if somewhat humorous) reminder that the first-the easy- task had been dragons.

She wasn't the only one who was afraid for Harry's safety.

"Well, we obviously need to find out more about Crouch." Hermione suggested.

"I'll write to Lupin," Harry said, already reaching into his bag for his quill and parchment.

If only he took such initiative on other matters. Like that stupid egg.

The sound of mass giggling at the Hufflepuff table grabbed their attention. Glancing around, she tried to figure out what the fuss was about. She'd almost given it up as just another one of those girly conversations she never quite understood when she finally caught sight of what had sent the girls into fits of girlish laughter.

Viktor was in the entrance hall, waving his wand to clean up something he'd tracked in.

And all he was wearing was a tight sleeveless shirt and a pair of running shorts.

Hermione thought her heart might have skipped a beat.

"Oh look. It's your boyfriend," Ron said dryly. "Showing off for the ladies, I suppose. Bloody wanker." The last bit was said under his breath, but still drew a tremendous scowl from Hermione and an exaggerated eye-roll from Harry.

"I bet he was swimming in the Black Lake again. I swear, the whole Champions' Dorm is going to smell like pond scum soon." With a wrinkle of his nose, Harry reached for another slice of bacon.

"The Black Lake!? What would he be doing in there?" And why did Harry know about this and not her?

"Guess he doesn't tell you everything after all," Ron chuckled darkly. Oh how she wished she could slap that smirk right off his face.

"Oh...stuff it." Hermione growled, grabbing her bag and aggressively wrestling it over her shoulder.

Determined to reach Viktor before he left without having breakfast with her (again), she strode through the Great Hall as quickly as her legs would take her without bursting into a run and making some god awful scene.

If she'd stopped to think about it for longer than a moment, briskly marching right past the giggling Hufflepuffs with her hair flying behind her and a scowl on her face was hardly the way to go about things circumspectly.

But her thoughts were more singularly focused on her boyfriend, who had by then caught sight of her and had paused in the entrance hall watching her approach.

"Hermione," Viktor greeted her with a small smile and a stiff bow, his eyes flicking to the Hufflepuff table when the giggles erupted to unambiguous levels.

"Viktor. What have you been doing?"

Her nose wrinkled without her permission. Harry was right: he did smell rather like pond scum.

With a sheepish quirk of his lips, Viktor did his best to keep himself from shrugging.

"Swimming," he finally answered.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well that's rather obvious," she began, reaching forward to pluck a clump of green algae from his hair and quickly flicking it onto the ground. "But why? It's the middle of winter."

As if to emphasize her point, the doors to the entrance hall opened and Professor McGonagall swept in amidst a burst of freezing cold air and swirling snow. Her brow arched-for surely seeing her star student next to an older boy in nothing but his underclothes, smelling intensely of rotting vegetal matter and sulfur had peaked both her curiosity and her ire.

Hermione quickly grabbed Viktor's hand and began dragging him up the stairs before her professor could suggest that they had picked an incredibly poor spot for their tête-à-tête.

"Hermione," he protested, beginning to drag his not-insubstantial feet. When she glanced behind her to scowl him into submission, he continued. "You are upset. Why?"

"Why are you swimming in the lake when it's freezing out?" She countered, unwilling to plumb the depths of why she was actually irritated.

By now they were beginning to gather the attention of other students, a sure way to ensure Viktor never answered her question.

Sighing, Viktor gripped her hand tighter and quietly led her the rest of the way to the Champions' Dorm. After she gave a quick, sharp, not at all uncomfortable nod, he murmured the password-acta non verba- and the painting-a giggling hag complete with hairy nose wart-swung open to admit the two of them.

"Don't get caught, dearies!" the hag cackled, waggling her bushy eyebrows and giving her cauldron a particularly suggestive stir.

"I hate that painting," Viktor murmured once the portrait swung shut.

With a sigh, he dropped her hand and briskly walked over towards his room, gesturing towards the common couches with a quick "one minute" before he disappeared behind his door.

Hermione tried to make herself comfortable on the worn leather sofa, but the knowledge that the two of them might be the only ones here made her squirm in anxious discomfort. She was just contemplating whether to busy her hands by making tea when Viktor's door opened again and he emerged much more formally dressed in slacks and a thick woolen jumper.

They sat across from each other on the little brown sofa for a long minute before Viktor once again broke the silence. "Hermione. Why are you upset?

"I'm not upset," she interrupted sharply.

A long pause. Viktor simply looked at her, his eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"Have I done something wrong?"

Heaving a sigh, Hermione tried to reign in her feelings. Finding out the Viktor was keeping secrets, even ones as potentially inconsequential as daily swims in the lake, and that he still wasn't following through on his promise to sit with her at the Gryffindor table at meals...well, it left her more than out of sorts.

"Why are you swimming in the lake? And why didn't you tell me? I had to find out from Harry."

"Is quidditch training season. Swimming is good exercise."

Oh how she wanted to take his response at face value, and yet, there was a caginess to his expression and he wasn't entirely meeting her eyes.

He was lying. She was sure of it.

"I don't believe you."

"Ok."

"OK?! That's all you have to say?"

Was she blowing this out of proportion?

Maybe.

But Viktor was sitting right next to her and outright lying and he wasn't even sheepish about it.

As if sensing that she was itching for a fight, Viktor shifted in his seat until their knees touched. Bending down slightly, he caught her gaze in his, his eyes dark and serious.

"Is for Tournament. Please. Do not ask more."

That...made sense. And yet, she found that she still couldn't let it go. The irritation she'd been feeling since Harry and Ron sat next to her at breakfast was crawling under her skin, just itching to get out.

"Why? Because I'm friends with Harry? And you don't want him to win?"

Viktor's expression was flat. Unamused.

"Yes. Potter is your friend. I am your boyfriend. Do not want to put you in middle."

"So you think that I'd, what, go blabbing your secrets to Harry so I can help him win?"

The fact that that is precisely what she'd do made something inside her belly twist sharply.

"Potter needs to win or lose by himself. But I think this is not why you are mad at me."

"Oh you don't, do you? And just why do you think I'm upset?"

"I don't know. That is why I ask."

Her building ire stuttered for a moment at his open, curious, worried expression.

She sighed, feeling like the wind had been let out from her sails.

"Why don't you want to eat meals with me?"

Viktor seemed to look anywhere but at her.

"Are you...embarrassed of me?" Her voice came out small, unsure, timid even. Which only served to make her angrier.

"No, not embarrassed." Viktor quickly jumped in, reaching forward to grasp her hand and locking his eyes on her face.

"Than what? You keep promising to eat with me but then you don't."

Staring at their joined hands for a long moment, it took every ounce of her own (currently limited) self-control to give him the time he needed to formulate a response.

"Is not you. Is Gryffindors."

"What?!"

"They are...very loud. And I...like spending meals with friends."

"But the Gryffindors would love to be your friends!"

"But Durmstrang friends already are!" he bit out.

Oh.

Well now she felt sheepish.

She forgot sometimes, that Viktor was a stranger in the castle. And living in the Champions' Dorm and not on the Durmstrang ship with his friends and classmates must be tiresome and lonely and isolating. And here she was asking him to isolate himself further by giving up his mealtimes too.

"I hadn't thought of it that way."

Viktor's only response was a quiet hmm.

"I'm sorry, Viktor. I just." Pausing for a moment, she tried to gather her scattered thoughts. "I just want to spend more time with you, and I wanted you to meet my friends."

His hand squeezed hers, the palm roughened with thick calluses feeling just shy of sandpaper on her skin.

"Would like you to meet my friends too. And eat with me."

His face clearly said that the was trying to make his request sound like a joke.

And Hermione was having none of it.

After all, no one would ever proclaim Hermione Granger a coward.

And so it was that on the first day of the new term, Hermione Granger marched right over to the Slytherin table, plopped her bag down next to Viktor, squeezed in between him and a Durmstrang boy she'd never met, and began aggressively buttering a piece of toast.

Viktor smiled and passed her the orange marmalade.

If any of the Slytherins objected, they wisely saved their comments until they were alone.

A/N: A big thank you for everyone's patience waiting for this chapter. The last couple of months have been a whirlwind and every time I had a moment to write I never seemed to know what to write. Thankfully, I've got the next chapter all planned out, so hopefully you'll be seeing it much quicker this time. See you soon!