"You… look stunning, Hermy-own," She had caught him breathless, but he managed to choke out a few words of compliment.

"It's Her-my-oh-knee, Viktor," she corrected him for the millionth time, but smiled. "But thank you very much. I don't think I've ever received such a compliment from a member of the opposite sex before."

He was taken aback. "Vot? Boys in England can't notice a pretty vitch vhen they see vone? Boys here must be blind."

She blushed as he took her arm in his. "I wouldn't say that…" She trailed off and looked back at the crowd. His eyes remained focused solely on her…

He looked up at the ceiling, not quite sure how to digest the news he had just uncovered. If he had been a cynical human being, he would have immediately thought she was back on the market, but he was not. He could almost see her, her chestnut curls pulled back from her face and blanketed by a black lace veil. He could see her crying, holding her two children close to her. She would look at them and see him every single day. She would see him in them, but not just him, and that bothered Viktor greatly. He remembered attending a friend's funeral and seeing his wife destroyed by grief, holding onto his coffin as the official just stood back and looked at her with the most tremendous amount of pity he had ever seen…

He must have dozed off. It was past his usual bedtime in Bulgaria although it was still light outside. It was pitch black when he awoke, however. He wiped the corner of his mouth, and searched in the dark for his glasses. Putting them on the bedside table and retrieving his wand, he cast light into the room once again. By his watch, it was two-thirty in the morning there. Sadly, he didn't feel much like sleeping anymore and, with a quick change of clothes, headed down to the bar below.

The room was mostly empty, but the usual crowd expected at a bar at this time of night was very present. A dark-featured woman in a deep green veil was sipping at a silver goblet clenched tightly in her red fingernails at a table near the stairwell. Not far away was a large man with sand-blond hair and a great matching beard playing poker with a slighter man in deep purple robes. He strode over to the bar, not caring to look at any of the other inhabitants and sidled onto a stool… he had spent far too much time in bars in the past two days.

"Up already?" called the woman he had met earlier from a booth behind him. He turned to see her with the war hero, Neville Longbottom. Neville waved politely and Viktor returned it with a small smile. Hannah scooted out of the bar and came to her post behind the bar. "What can I get you for?"

"Just a hot chocolate, please," he replied, running a hand through his dark hair, "Time adjustment… it takes me a vhile."

"Oh, I know the feeling," Hannah laughed. "Neville and I went to Australia for our honeymoon, and I was sleeping all day and partying all night… Although I think that's the point of a honeymoon." She smiled widely at her husband who chuckled and took a long drink of his Butterbeer. Hannah served Viktor a large mug of deep brown chocolate and leaned on the bar. "Are you married, Viktor? I hope you don't mind me asking…"

"No, not married," he said, stirring the chocolate with the tip of his wand. "Never met someone I vanted to make that commitment vith."

He wasn't sure why he was so easily discussing his personal life with strangers, but it came as a little bit of a relief. It had really been bothering him as of late that he was forty-one and unmarried, and he was still feeling the need to reach out, even after talking with Ivan. He needed to say something else, perhaps to add some levity to his pitiful words, "But I've been told again and again; who needs love vhen you're a Quidditch player. The game is your lover, after all."

Neville and Hannah gave him the response he had aimed for, slight chuckling, and he relaxed a little, allowing himself to smile and give the front that he needed. Neville sunk back into the cushions a little more and absentmindedly swirled the contents of his glass in his hand, "Well, marriage isn't for everyone. And perhaps the person you're looking for is looking for you too."

I doubt it, Viktor thought, but took a sip of the cooling chocolate. He felt like he was being felt sorry for and he really didn't like it. He turned the subject, "So, Neville, yes? You are professor at Hogvarts now?"

It had been a while since he had worn his Seeker robes and it was no lie that they were a bit tight, but not in a bad way. Since he had retired, he had been able to train and build up his muscles instead of keeping his frame lean and more aerodynamic. Boots pleasantly covered in mud and grass and morale high after speaking to the International Quidditch Association Youth, he landed his broom back in Hogsmeade after the flight from the marsh. His stomach was calling out for filling and he was more than ready to answer the call. First, he would need to change into regular clothing, as he was getting more than a little attention in his current robes. After signing the bra strap of a witch not much younger than he who claimed to be at his first World Cup, he pushed into the Three Broomsticks and took the stairs to his room. He pulled a set of navy blue robes on after a quick shower and pulled on his black frames.

The hallway was empty, as was the stairwell, but the restaurant was full of people. He noticed some of the young adults from the Seeker Seminar sitting in the large booth in the corner of the room, and they tried to flag him over to sit with them. He waved curtly in their direction, but was pulled aside by the barmaid.

"Someone stopped in this afternoon that I think you would rather have lunch with than a group of kids straight out of school," Hannah said, careful not to smack him right in the face with the load of trays she was carrying.

"Really? Who?" Viktor crossed his arms playfully and looked at Hannah expectantly.

"This person is in the back room, and this person would be delighted to see you," Hannah hinted, setting a tray down in front of a young couple snogging in a booth. She flashed a toothy grin at the Quidditch star and nudged him with her free hand in the direction of the back room. "Just go."

Viktor walked into the small back room which was lined with portraits and potted plants. Sitting at a table next to an open window, the sunlight falling onto her face was—

"Hermione?"

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