Viktor Krum: Over The Edge

By Rose Weasley

An Excerpt From Chapter Four

To the casual observer, Viktor Krum seemed to be living a fantasy, filled with all the extravagance money could buy. But on the inside, things were beginning to fall apart. The lingering pain from his career-ending injury continued to plague him, and like so many before him, Vikor began to self-medicate. Alcohol was his drug of choice, but there were days when it just wasn't strong enough to dull the pain. Soon he was seeking out more potent substances, which opened him up to an entirely new way of life. His party-loving friends were soon replaced with even more unscrupulous characters. Some were his suppliers, keeping him doped up and suggestible. The rest were an assortment of enablers, hoping to cash in before the well ran dry, which didn't take long once several seedy business ventures began to sour...

Chapter Four: Viktor Krum

Krum's situation, as it had been explained to Rose, was this:

The man was broke. Virtually indigent, at least according to Brooks. Whatever fortune the former sports legend may have amassed over the years was now completely gone. What was even worse, his agent warned, was that if Krum didn't find a new source of revenue soon, he'd lose what few belongings he had that hadn't yet been repossessed by the bank. This included the London flat he currently called home.

And so, in an effort to help ease his client's financial woes, Brooks had come up with the brilliant idea of selling off Krum's life story to the highest bidder. A quick exchange of personal information for cold hard cash. He'd even managed to line up a few interested parties, mostly of the tabloid variety – the kind of papers that were always lurking nearby, waiting to sink their teeth into the latest scandal. The plan would have worked too, if only Krum hadn't refused to go though with it. In fact, he'd gone so far as to threaten to fire Brooks if the man ever so much as suggested anything like it again.

"But if Krum's so opposed to some silly newspaper article, what in the world makes you think he'll agree to let Heart publish an entire book about him?"

The two were still seated at the conference table, and based on the steady stream of harassed-looking employees she'd seen filing past on their way towards the lifts, Rose knew it must be well past quitting time. And the fact that most of them were carrying umbrellas and wearing raincoats did not bode well for her walk home. Still, Rose was determined to hear Brooks out if for no other reason than to gather more ammunition for her inevitable confrontation with Heart.

"The thing you have to understand about Mr. Krum," Brooks said, "is that he's a very proud individual. And also a very private one. In the end, I just don't think he could allow himself to be –"

"Exploited?" Rose suggested.

A look of annoyance flashed across Brooks' face. "I was going to say exposed, but you can call it what you want. The fact of the matter is the man doesn't have a lot of options left. His days of playing sport are long over. He's fallen too far out of favor with the public to bring in any endorsement or sponsorship deals. And it's not like he's got a host of other marketable skills to fall back on. The only thing he was ever really good at was playing Quidditch. Without that, what has he got to offer? Frankly, it's this or nothing."

Brooks grabbed one of the empty glasses lined up along the center of the table. The instant he touched it, water began to slowly fill the cup as is being poured from an invisible pitcher. He took several large gulps before turning his attention back to Rose.

"You think I'm being cold, don't you? Talking about Mr. Krum this way?"

"No," Rose said, though in truth, the thought had crossed her mind. "I was actually wondering why you're going through all this trouble for him. I'm no expert but lawyers don't usually go out looking to find their clients jobs, do they? Plus, if he's as broke as you claim, how is it that he can afford to retain your services? Wouldn't it be simpler for you to just drop him and focus on your other clients?"

Brooks let out a snort. "Now who's being cold?"

"It's not a matter of being cold, Mr. Brooks. It's a matter of being practical. And if you plan on having any future dealing with Joseph Heart, you'd do best to keep that in mind. He's nothing if not pragmatic. So tell me, really. What's in this for you?"

Brooks took another swallow of his drink before pushing the glass back towards the spot where he'd found it. It immediately disappeared.

"I like you," he said. "Heart was right. You are a smart one."

Rose ignored the remark. At the moment, she was too mad at Heart to give a damn what he thought about her.

"You want to know the truth?" Brooks asked, leaning back in his chair. She nodded. "Okay, here's the truth. I don't have any other clients. At least not at the moment. Krum's it. The only one."

"I see..." Rose was doing her best to keep her tone neutral, but her suspicions regarding Peter Brooks were mounting quickly. "And why is that?"

"Because..." he started, but then paused, as if bracing himself for what he was about to say. "Because he's my father."

"What?" Rose didn't know what she had been expecting to come of the man's mouth, but it certainly wasn't that. "Krum's your father?"

"Well, stepfather, actually. Former stepfather, if you want really want to get technical. He married my mother when I was about three of four. She was his first wife. He was her second husband. They were only together for a couple of years, but he was always good to her. And to me, even after they split."

"And this is...what? Your way of repaying him? A debt of gratitude? Trying to get your father to sell out to the highest bidder – having him humiliated in the papers – that seems an awfully funny way of saying thank you."

Rose knew she was being harsh. She didn't know this man, or his true motives. But she couldn't help herself. Something about Brooks just rubbed her the wrong way. Not to mention her growing annoyance with Heart. Surely he had to have known about this. What was he thinking getting them mixed up in some old family drama? That wasn't like him at all.

"I wasn't trying to humiliate him," Brooks said, clearly resentful at the accusation. "I was trying to help him. I still am. But I'm not a miracle worker. The man is stubborn as hell, and I'm doing my best here. It's either this or he ends up on the streets. So what would you have me do? What would youdo?"

Brooks' arrogance and professionalism were starting to slip away. He was no longer just a lawyer looking to cut a deal for his client. He was a man, a son, desperate to help someone who had once shown him and his mother some kindness.

"Look," Rose said, trying to steer the conversation back into neutral territory. "I can appreciate what you're trying to do, but I don't see how this book idea could work. You still haven't explained how you plan to convince Mr. Krum to go along with any of this. I mean, I assume you're planning to tell the man about it at some point..."

"Of course I'd tell him. I wouldn't move ahead with it unless he was completely on board."

"And yet here you are..."

"This is different. I only came here to set up the ground rules. Like I said, Krum's a very private man. He won't agree to anything unless he knows certain details are...off limits."

"What sort of details?"

Brooks hesitated. "I'd...rather not say. I'll let him explain that, if and when the need arises."

"Alright," Rose said, letting that matter drop for the time being. "Say I sign your papers – promise to avoid any topics he's uncomfortable with. Do you really think that's enough to convince him to move forward with the book?"

Brooks didn't answer right away. After a brief crack in his façade, his lawyering instincts were kicking back into high gear and he seemed to be considering his next move.

"No," he said at last. "No, I don't think it will be enough. But I do know something that might do the trick."

"And that would be what, exactly?"

"You."

"Me?"Rose asked in surprise. "What can I do? I've never even met the man."

"Exactly." Brooks leaned forward, his hands resting on his knees. His tie had worked itself loose from its clip, swaying slightly as he spoke. "Anything I suggest to him he'll reject straight away. I pushed my luck too far already. I don't doubt he's serious when he says he'll fire me if I bring anything like this up again. Mind you, not that I'm getting paid anything for my troubles. But, if you were to suggest it, he might be willing to hear you out."

"But why me?" Rose felt like she was reliving her early conversation with Heart. Here she was once again asking why she was so essential to this ridiculous plan. What was it about her that made people think she was capable of things that were clearly beyond her abilities?

"Because you're a writer. A real one...at least that's what you shouted at me when we started this meeting." Rose didn't appreciate that minor slip-up being thrown back in her face, but she let it slide. "Think of it this way. Imagine you've been told some sleazy magazine wants to cash in on your past mistakes. You might take offense to that. Krum sure did. Now, what if instead you were told that some pretty little author was interested in writing a book about you. One that lets you tell your story to the world on your own terms. Well, that doesn't sound nearly so tawdry, now does it?"

"Pretty little author?" Rose repeated. "Now that's offensive."

"It's not meant to be, honestly. Though I won't lie, the fact that you're easy on the eyes certainly doesn't hurt matters. It's just that you're...not threatening. You've got the kind of face people can trust. Added to that the fact that you've been published, and not just in some crummy tabloid... Who knows, Krum might even be flattered you asked."

Her pretty face aside, Rose knew this man was delusional if he thought for even a second that she would be able to convince Krum to let her write a book about him. Persuading people to do things they didn't want to do was Heart's specialty, not hers. Besides, she didn't even want any part of this stupid book. How exactly was she supposed to convince Krum to go along with it when she wasn't sold on the idea herself?

Rose was just about to point all of this out to Brooks when he held up a hand, silencing her objections before she had a chance to voice them.

"I can already tell you don't agree with me, and I know this is a lot to ask, but I'm desperate here. Please. Just..." He stopped, reaching into the breast pocket of his suit and pulling out a folded piece of paper. He scribbled something on it before folding it back up and handing it to Rose. "That's the address for a local pub Krum likes to frequent. The owner's an old friend of his. He's there most nights until closing. Always sits in a little booth in the back, away from the others. Just go and meet with him. You don't even have to mention the book. Just see if you can stand the man. If you can't, we'll drop the whole thing. Pretend like I was never here. If, on the other hand, you hit it off... Well, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

So there she was once again, being strong-armed into a plan she knew was a bad idea. Why did no one believe her when she said this book deal wasn't going to work? It had seemed a rotten fit when Rose thought the idea had been Krum's. She certainly wasn't any fonder of the prospect knowing he wasn't even aware of its existence. Rose supposed she could say no, simply refuse to meet with the man, but her gut told her it would be a waste of breath. Heart would find a way of reeling her back in, one way or another.

Rose looked down at the scrap of paper. The addressed wasn't one she recognized. "Alright," she said. "One meeting. But that's all I'm agreeing to."

"Of course," Brooks said, relief and gratitude flooding his face. "That's great. Just great."

Yeah, great, Rose thought to herself.

Or, in the words of her boss, fan-fucking-tastic.

As soon as Brooks was gone, Rose gathered up her things and marched off towards Heart's office. She was all set to give the man a good telling off, but it seemed she had missed her chance. Heart had already left for the day, his door locked up tight, no lights visible through the frosted glass. She knocked anyways, just on the off chance that he might still be inside, but she was greeted only with silence.

Rose sighed, weighing her options. She could plant herself outside his door, waiting there until he returned. That way, at least, she'd be sure he wouldn't give her the slip. He'd have to come back sometime that evening. Of course, that was assuming he hadn't managed to patch things up with his wife and been allowed to return home. In that case, as it was Friday, Rose would be forced to spend the entire weekend at the office. Not exactly an appealing prospect.

She quickly scratched the idea, resigning herself to the fact that she would just have to wait until Monday to speak with him. Perhaps it was for the best. Confronting Heart while she was still so upset probably wasn't the greatest idea. His affection for her meant he cut her a lot of slack, but he was still her boss and yelling him wouldn't be the wisest of career moves. Besides, if she waited to talk with Heart until after she met with Krum, she would be able to tell her boss that she'd done everything she could but that the whole book deal just wasn't going to happen. There was no doubt in her mind that Krum would shoot the idea down just as quickly as he'd done with the tabloid tell-all. But is she went through with the meeting, spoke with Krum face-to-face, she could tell Heart that she had honestly tried but he had turned her down. Without Krum, there was no book. And with no book, there was no need for an author. Once Krum official refused to participate, Rose would be off the hook and life could return to normal.

At least that's what Rose told herself as she prepared to head home, stopping by her office on the way to collect her usual pile of unread manuscripts – which was quickly growing out of control thanks to all the recent meetings and last night's unexpected visit from Al.

When she turned the corner on to her street, she was relived to find her stoop completely empty. No one waiting on the steps for her return. There was, however, a small note taped to her front door. She grabbed it as she stepped inside. Once in, she'd quickly dropped her belongings on the table, turning on a few lights as she went, before returning her attention to the note, reading it over as she stood in the kitchen, one hip resting against the countertop.

Rosie,

I stopped by on my way home from work but I guess I missed you. Your Mum wanted me to invite you over for supper tomorrow. Hugo's finished his first round of training and she's putting together a bit of a celebration dinner for him. Nothing fancy, but you know how she can be. Hope to see you there.

Dad

Rose folded the note back up before setting it on top of one of the many piles of papers that seemed to occupy every available space in her tiny flat.

Her brother Hugo was studying to be a Healer. He'd already completed the necessary two years of post-Hogwarts schooling, and now it seemed he'd also finished the first of the three rounds of specialized training that would eventually qualify him to be a full-fledged Healer. Rose knew each round of training took about six months. She could hardly believe so much time had passed since Hugo had started his work at St. Mungo's.

St. Mungo's hadn't been his first choice when it came to his residency. Hugo had hoped to go abroad, to study at one of the wizarding hospitals in America. Rose was pretty sure this had more to do with a certain blonde-haired American he'd met while at school than because of some desire to travel the world. Still, he'd been pretty devastated when his application was denied and he'd been forced to stay behind in London. Not that there was anything wrong with St. Mungo's. It had a fine set of programs for Healers of all specialties, or so Rose had been told. Plus, staying in the country meant Hugo could go on living at home free of charge. Being a Healer-in-training was one of the few jobs that seemed to pay less than her own, so a bit of free room and board courtesy of Mum and Dad could go a long way.

With the exception of Al, Rose hadn't seem much of her family during recent months. She was just so busy. They all were. Hugo with his training, she with her job. Both of her parents still worked too. Her father had been with the Auror Department since before she was born, and her mother had recently accepted a top position at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. That had caused a bit of tension once her father figured out that her new job title meant his wife would also now technically be his boss. But he'd eventually gotten over it once he realized she wouldn't actually be in charge of telling him what to do.

"I get enough of that at home," he'd said to Rose when he thought her mother wasn't listening.

Rose glanced back down at the note.

Knowing her mother, coming over for supper meant that Rose would be expected to arrive by noon and not leave again until after tea on Sunday. This wouldn't normally be a problem. Aside from the extra work she brought home with her from the office, Rose's weekends were usually pretty open. But if she was going to spend most of Saturday and Sunday with her family, that would mean that if she wanted to meet with Krum before talking to Heart on Monday, she was going to have to go see the man tonight.

Rose felt her stomach drop. Promising Brooks she would meet with Krum at some unspecified date and time was one thing. Actually going out that very night was another thing altogether.

Rose glanced over at the clock. It was already after seven. If she was going to go, she needed to leave soon. It was bad enough she'd be meeting the man at a pub on a Friday evening like it was some sort of date. There was no way she was staying out with him past ten. Rose knew a lot of otherwise perfectly decent bars that could get very dicey that time of night, especially for a single woman. Plus, staying out with a strange man until the wee hours of the morning could definitely give off the wrong impression. This was, after all, supposed to be a business meeting.

What Rose really needed at that moment was a glass wine to calm her nerves. Unfortunately, she hadn't had the chance to replace the bottle Al had finished the night before. Rose was forced to settle for a glass of water, which she filled at the kitchen sink and carried with her into the bathroom.

Lucky for Rose, she wasn't one of those women who needed a lot of time in front of the mirror before leaving the house. In under thirty minutes, she'd managed to wash and dry her hair, tying it in a loose knot at the base of her neck, before applying a light layer of make-up – just enough to draw attention away from the smattering of freckles that dotted her nose and cheeks. There wasn't a lot of variety in her wardrobe so selecting an outfit didn't take long either. An all-purpose black dress with a modest hem seemed appropriate enough should the meeting go well and the topic turn to business. But it wasn't so formal as to make her stand out from rest of the throng heading out for a fun Friday night.

In practically no time at all, Rose was primped, dressed and out the door – a map of the city tucked under her arm.

It had taken Rose about three weeks after moving into her flat to find a good spot to Apparate in and out from. It had been a lot harder than she'd expected. People think living in a city makes it easy to move around unnoticed, seeing as there are so many people bustling about, all of them too busy with their own lives to pay much attention to what anyone else is up to. The disappearing into thin air part wasn't such a problem, but with all those people also came a lot of buildings and trucks and lorries. One false move and Rose could find herself squashed between two taxicabs or standing in front of a double-decker bus as it came speeding down the road.

As she walked, Rose scoured the map, finally locating the address Brooks had given her just as she arrived at the little alleyway that served as her perfect coming-and-going place. She noticed there was a park less than two blocks from where the map said the pub should be. Parks always made for good Apparition spots, assuming one was able to avoid rematerializing at the top of a tree.

Shoving the map into her purse, Rose closed her eyes, filled her lungs with as much air as she could manage, and spun.

Minutes later, Rose was standing in front of an old four-story brick building tucked into a narrow side street, set off from the main road. Above one of the doors hung an iron sign coated in peeling paint that marked the entrance to The Olde Friar's Pub.

The door was flanked on either side by windows that were so pitted and cracked, looking through them was like looking through a kaleidoscope only without all the pretty colors. There was a menu board resting against the wall to the right, but whatever was written there was too faded to read. Clearly the owners weren't using it to draw in the dinner crowds.

Her first impressions of the place weren't great and as Rose reached out for the doorknob, she found herself mentally preparing for what she might find on the other side.

The inside of The Olde Friar's Pub was only slightly better than the outside. At one time, it had probably been a rather respectable gathering spot for London's more wealthy gentlemen. At least the dark oak paneled walls, oversized marble fireplace, and arched windows along the back seemed to suggest some measure of wealth. But that was probably more than a century ago by now. These days, the pub was poorly lit, crammed too full of wobbly looking tables and stools, and the smell that permeated the air was an unpleasant mix of stale beer and day old sausage.

To Rose's surprise, the place was actually rather crowded, though the caliber of the cliental left something to be desired. Most of the patrons were older and looked like the sort who started drinking at noon and didn't stop until they were escorted out. The only exception was a small group of university-aged boys seated at a table near the door. They seemed to be celebrating something: a sport victory perhaps, or the end of the school term.

The main bar took up the majority of the front room. It was situated along the far wall opposite the door, and accented by a large mirror surrounded by a tarnished gold frame. The counter, complete with brew taps, stood about four feet tall and was lined with bar stools, most of which were currently occupied. The shelves behind the counter were stocked with the usually assortment of mismatched bottles, a few of them hung upside-down, the rest packed in tight along dusty shelves.

There was a second room, separated from the main area by an arched wall. It was even more dimly lit than the rest of the place. As soon as she caught sight of it, she knew it was where Krum would be. Tucked away in the corner, set off from the other patrons, just like Brooks had said he would be.

Rose debated heading straight over. From her position just inside the door, she couldn't see who might be back there. She didn't even know for sure if Krum was there that evening. She decided instead to head to the bar. She was still in desperate need of that glass of wine.

There was a single bartender on duty – an older gentlemen, probably in his seventies. Rose wondered if it was the owner Brooks had mentioned. He moved with the sort of languid pace that suggested he'd been serving drinks for longer than Rose had been alive.

"Chardonnay, please," she said when he finally made his way over to her.

The man made no reply, turning his back on Rose only to reappear several minutes later, glass in hand. He set the drink on the counter, pushing it towards her.

"Thanks," Rose muttered, picking up the glass, not all that surprised to find that the stem was sticky to the touch. The wine itself was bitter but oddly refreshing. Certainly no worse than the cheap stuff she was usually forced to drink at home.

Glass in hand, Rose placed a few coins on the bar before turning and scanning the room. There were several empty seats but no empty tables. Unless she wanted to stand while she sipped her drink, she was going to have to either make friends with one of these strangers or head to the back and see if she could find Krum.

She hadn't taken more than three steps towards the archway when she felt someone close in behind her. Before she had the chance to turn around, the person leaned in and a husky voice whispered something in her ear.

"If you aren't a Veasley, I'll eat my vand and buy this whole place another round of drinks."

She spun to face the stranger.

As it turned out, Rose could pick Viktor Krum out of a crowd. Only there wasn't any need.

He was standing right in front of her.