Disclaimer: I don't own HP :)

A/N: Hey guys! I'm down to the last week of school. Commencement is next Thursday night! Our robes are red... ew. Anyway, I've been pretty busy lately. Writing my senior thesis, making sure I'm not failing any classes, teaching small children French, handing out invitations to grad parties. It's been fun, but I really look forward to the mindless hours I can spend at the computer, working on my stories. :)

To answer some questions... someone asked if I had a plot for the story. Haha, yes, I do. It's very vague - more like an outline, if anything - and I just follow my notes and let the situations develop. Like, I have a clear picture of the end chapter already laid out. I think it's easier and more fun to fill in the blanks as I write - it feels more natural, less forced. And to another who asked for more Hr/R... it definately coming!! :):)

Thanks for reading this, everyone. I really appreciate all of you. Enjoy!!

She wavered for a moment, her legs rigid beneath her, waiting for the wobbly sickness to pass. Feeling a hand press lightly on her shoulder, Hermione slowly opened her eyes. She blinked tightly against the bright, brilliant sunshine that seemed to pervade her vision from all around. She went to shield her face, but found that the quickness of the movement rocked her body and made the nauseous unbalance return.

Ron steadied her with both hands now. Their portkey had given them a rough ride and no one in the trio was really sure of their footing at the moment. He looked to Seamus with questions practically written across his face.

"Where are we?" Hermione's unusually strong voice rang out and echoed through the room, surprising Ron.

"Home," Seamus answered simply. He grimaced against the light, turning his back on his friends.

"Why is it so damned bright?" Ron wanted to know.

"No blinds," the other man replied.

"Where are we?" Hermione outright demanded this time, annoyed that her question had been ignored. Seamus had been testy with her ever since he showed up at Grimmauld Place and she was quickly losing her patience. The blinding sunlight and Seamus' sarcastic repose did not improve her mood.

"I'm not exactly sure," Seamus rubbed at his eyes. Glancing about, he observed tanned sandalwood furniture and clean open spaces. The whole place smelled earthy – like fresh, green plants and warmed wood. There was also a trace of sharp salt, which puzzled him.

"What do you mean?" Hermione gaped at him, her vision returning slowly. She snapped her head back and forth – her stomach rolling, but her mind racing – and found nothing recognizable. This irritated her as well.

Seamus shrugged and was genuinely baffled. "I was never told where I was taking you – I guess I didn't think about it. Viktor just handed me the portkey and sent me on my way. Never said a word about it."

"Shouldn't we have the right to know where we are?" Ron frowned.

Seamus wheeled around to face him. "It's a hideaway," he spat disdainfully; "no one should know where you are. If we went around telling everyone where you sleep at night, it kind of defeats the purpose of keeping you here at all." The anger in his words was not really meant for the pair, but Seamus felt his resolve fading rapidly.

"They don't trust that we'll keep our mouths shut, is that it?" Ron challenged, his face darkening.

"Of course not!" Seamus bit.

Before Ron had the chance to retaliate, Hermione shocked them both by interjecting in a remarkably calm voice.

"It's really that serious," she looked up to Seamus with fear that was only suppressed by morbid curiosity. "Viktor wouldn't even tell you, and if you don't even get to know, then… this… thing is larger than I thought. There are so many secrets now."

The brief, melancholy speech rendered both men incapable of remembering their hot words. Seamus was the first to move, whispering, "There have always been secrets.

"Viktor puts your safety above a lot of other things. The Shop found you out twice already and they are obviously not going to let you slip away. They know now about Ron and could possibly use that against us if they wanted to. No one wants to take that risk, even if it is just Ron."

He threw a grim grin to him and Ron answered by rolling his eyes, but relaxing his stance some. "That's all very well and good," Ron drawled, "we're all for the heroics and saving lives and keeping Viktor's conscience intact. But when do we get to go back to Lawrence? See our families again?"

"Not for a very long time, I'm guessing," Seamus replied evenly, tensing. He was absolutely sure about his words and did not want to waste time arguing it out with Ron. He was not in the mood, to say the least.

"Very specific!" Ron exclaimed, not bothering to hide the sarcasm and contempt rushing through him.

"Alright," Seamus shouted, all previous traces of ease erasing themselves from his hardened face, "how about I come get you when we've finally killed every last bloody traitor the Shop has? That suit your time frame, Weasley?"

Ron advanced, snarling. "Not exactly, Finnigan, seeing as how it'll probably take the next ten years to earn the chance to hold a wand to the bastards' throats. This is only judging on the progress you and Viktor have made so far, of course! What happened at the flat was only an example of your… superior skills."

"At least I'm not wallowing about in my basement all day," Seamus rose to the challenge, baring his teeth. Color rose in his neck quickly. "At least I'm out there trying."

"You know I'd be out there the second Viktor asked me to," Ron seethed, smarting horrifically from the jab. His fists curled forcefully into themselves. All Seamus had to do was make the first move and Ron would wallop him.

"And you know he never would," Seamus replied harshly, "not after your mistakes. Why do you think he assigned you to her?" He thrust his hand in Hermione's direction. She stood quietly, as if she were stone. She wanted to know.

"Because I'm qualified!" Ron burst, his eyebrows raised in question, "And you said I was first on her contact list!"

"Bullshit!" Seamus bellowed, a smile twisting across his contorted mouth. "He didn't want you ruining another assignment. He didn't know which department to stick you in without completely shattering your accreditations! So he put you in charge of babysitting. That's all you were capable of. No one could mess up watching after a coma patient, though you nearly proved us all wrong."

Hermione winced at the brutal truth, but to Ron the words only fueled the anger that boiled in his chest. It was an old suspicion of his confirmed – the question of his worth, his competency revealed publically – and he hated Seamus for that. Especially for announcing it in front of the one person he thought he would never live up to. Rage unleashed itself and Ron vaguely felt it tearing through his very core as he launched himself at Seamus.

Seamus, surprised at his actions, was taken off guard. He had no intention of driving Ron to madness, but he couldn't stop himself. He was knocked sideways by a smart blow to the face. In a moment, he felt Ron kick his knees out beneath him. Seamus crumbled to the floor, not able to say anything.

Hermione watched the intense skirmish unfold before her with wide, astonished eyes. Her body would not move. "Boys!" she shouted over the cacophony of grunts and cursing. Of course they did not stop and she could not stop them. She was still overcome by the animosity the two friends had displayed.

The fight was violent – more so than the subject called for. Seamus pulled Ron to his feet by the front of his shirt and landed a punch on his ear. As the blood began to flow, Ron dizzily began swiping anywhere his fists could land. He managed to knock the air of his counterpart and they tumbled to the floor. Seamus gained the advantage by rolling on top quickly, but Ron soon threw him to the side and kneed him in the chest. They rolled and shouted bloody murder, the balance of power shifting chaotically. Eventually they clambered to their feet again and Ron sent Seamus reeling into a wall. Seamus wiped the blood from his nose and used the fist to throw off Ron's claw-like fingers reaching for his neck.

Seamus was thick with disciplined muscle, but Ron had been trained as an Auror, too. Ron had been taught early on by four older brothers how to fight dirty, but Seamus had been actively training for years. Neither had an advantage. However, Ron seemed to glow under the sheen of sweat. His training came back quickly – how to tuck the thumb into the palm when forming a fist meant for punching, how to bring down an elbow to the center of a sternum, how to expect a hit and roll away. He was awkward and clumsy – giving Seamus what seemed an upper hand – but the sheer force behind the blows was unnerving. When the men could no longer muster the burning energy necessary for quick ducks and dives and punches, they resorted to bearlike squeezes and elbows and furious threats.

When the blood began to pool seriously and the screams of pain became extremely real and frustrated, Hermione interjected again. Her fright had multiplied to such an extent that her own hurt cries could not remain in her throat. "Stop!" her voice had reached its limits and filled the room with shrill, panicked shrieking. "Both you, stop it this instant! You're going to kill each other! Stop!"

Ron froze and it only took Seamus a few moments to realize that her hoarse screaming was bordering on pure fear. Shame poured through them, feeling foolish that they should have to be reproved by Hermione like schoolboys. They backed away while eyeing each other savagely. The room fell eerily silent, the tenseness humming all around them. Ron placed himself far from Hermione and felt embarrassment rippling down his back.

"Better," Hermione whispered. She took a few haggard, limping steps forward so that she would stand between the two men, discourage another fight. Her hands were perched on her hips shakily, assuming the position of authority.

No one spoke again for awhile. Seamus wiped at his blackened eye, trying to keep himself from wincing. Ron spat blood into the corner. They leered across the expanse, but neither dared incite another brawl. The adrenaline had vanished and the only things remaining now were memories of sore words thrumming in their ears.

"Now," Hermione began again, her voice wavering. "That's all settled. Perhaps you ought to leave, Seamus." She faced him, her eyes pleading for him to get away. Nothing good could come of further conversation.

Seamus nodded curtly, straightening his stained collar with stiff, bruised hands. "Yes," he replied in a low growl. "I should."

Ron glared at him, not trusting himself with words. Vengeance was the only thought in his mind and it ached through his body warmly. It replaced the sting of his wounds with short spasms of anger.

"However," Seamus added in a businesslike tone, only regarding Hermione, "there are some things I need to go over with you before I go."

"I'm extraneous," Ron bit sharply. Without looking for the confirmation in Seamus' watery eyes, he turned to stalk from the room. He had no idea where the next room would take him, but it would take him away and that was all he needed.

Seamus sensed the abhorrence that seemed to radiate from Hermione's very being and did not hold it against her. He knew the whole argument had reflected very badly upon him – knowing exactly where Ron's weak spots were and aiming directly for them. He hadn't meant to, but there was no way of conveying his thoughts to Hermione now, even if he knew how to put them into words.

So, he continued with business. "Neither of you are to write to anyone – not even to the Order. You won't receive any mail in return. If we need to get in touch with you, Viktor will appear in person."

"And if we want to get in touch with you?" her demeanor was icy.

"That won't be possible," Seamus shook his head, ignoring the cricks in his neck, empathy stinging at his chest. "You aren't allowed to communicate with anyone until Viktor says it's alright."

Hermione sighed sadly, angrily. "I don't understand this – any of it! It's positively ludicrous."

"It's a Head official order. No one can change it but Viktor Krum himself. I wish I could though, truly."

"It seems so over the top!"

"He's gone to greater lengths," Seamus replied flippantly. "Look at Neville."

The sour look on her face did not recede. She did not speak, too infuriated with her inability to understand her situation.

Seamus' eyes darted about as his body weakened. He wouldn't leave until he was asked again – he didn't want to be rude – but the silence was buzzing in his pulsing head. He needed to sit down. The air was thick with dust – a sure sign the place had been abandoned some time ago – and it only added to the dreamlike quality of the room. Seamus felt himself sway, relaxing.

"Is there anything else?" Hermione' surly growl interrupted his revere.

Seamus snapped to attention, clearing is aching throat. "Yes, there's only a few more… suggestions."

"Restrictions, you mean."

He sighed, letting his bruised shoulders slump. "Please don't go outside after dark. There's a town some fifty miles away, but don't visit it unless you need help and Viktor doesn't appear. I don't believe this will ever occur, so refrain from traveling. Limit your time outdoors to only a few hours at a time. Don't answer the door if it sounds – it should never do that."

"But what if it does?" Hermione's face was angry and helpless. "How do we let you know? At least back at Ron's place we had friends – protectors."

"Viktor will know everything that goes on here," Seamus' voice was assuring. "Don't ask me how, but he'll keep you safe – that's a promise."

"I don't want it," she replied, turning away with her arms folded against her chest. "I'd rather put my life at risk to be able to see my family again. I've been gone for so long already, Seamus. My parents celebrated my birthday alone for four years now, still bought me presents that I have yet to open. They have no idea where I am – and now I'm safe and not allowed to tell them?" She wheeled back to face him, tears pricking her eyes. "I can barely remember what they look like anymore. Memories begin to fade the moment they're over. I can't stay here forever."

"You won't," Seamus answered, guilt searing deep in his heart.

Hermione moved towards the door Ron had left through.

"Bullshit."

--

The paper had grown soft with repeated folding and creasing. It was browned and aged and small in the palm of Viktor's broad, rough hands. His back hunched as he heaved a great sigh, feeling the worn edge dig into his fingers.

Viktor stood in front of the vast expanse of fireplace in his dim office. It lined the back wall, engulfing it in intricate brickwork and marbled mantle. The fire was large and vibrant – the only source of light in the entire room. His fingers deftly opened the note again, as he had doing all afternoon – opening and closing the last trace of Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. He was entirely sure in his decision to hide them, but hesitant to dispose of the records. It was something that had to be done and something that was final.

Viktor's slanting eyes crawled desperately over the tiny, perfect print:

Abandoned Villa

Costa De La Muerte, Spain

Untraceable – 7 years

Finally, Viktor crumpled the note and offered it to the hungry, enticing flames. As the paper left his hand, he felt fear spread through him. He wished he had read it again, scared that he had missed the spelling and doomed the couple to an entire life of separation. The hearth spit out its acceptance in a loud crackle and burst of young, blue licks of fire. A sense of dreary conclusiveness filled him. He would let the fire burn for several hours, before collecting the ash and separating it forever. No one would ever know.

The door behind him opened and closed sometime later. Viktor took his time turning to face his guest. What was done was done – no going back. He was no surprised to find Seamus scowling on the other side of his desk.

"Finnigan," Viktor tilted his head in brief welcome.

"Krum," Seamus' voice was clipped.

"That's quite a shiner you've got," he was cool, passive. "And that's a nasty split lip."

Seamus flinched as his fingers flew up to confirm the sickly bruise that hovered above his eye. He did not speak, but flushed.

"Mind telling me how you go it?" One of his thick eyebrows raised in mild curiosity.

"Not especially," Seamus growled.

Viktor began assembling himself again – squaring his shoulders, ruffling uninterestedly through the cluttered paperwork on his desk, humming. "No matter," he replied, "I already know." He took a seat.

Seamus followed suit. "How?" he demanded, an edge pervading his voice. His fingers instinctively curled themselves over the armrests of the chair.

"I'm not quite sure I'm at liberty to entertain you with that information. You didn't want to share with me. It's only fair."

"Knock it off," Seamus snapped at Viktor's coy jab. "Tell me."

Viktor shrugged, his eyes trained on the pages in front of him. "Gus saw everything."

"Gus?" Seamus sounded more confused than nasty. "The dog…?"

Viktor nodded in affirmation quietly.

"But…" Seamus stuttered, "I thought that… that you were Gus. I saw you transform – how can that be?"

"Oh, I was Gus quite often – on lunch breaks, holidays, on lonely nights. Dogs are very warm creatures."

"But," Seamus seemed to be completely flabbergasted. "…How? I've never heard of such a thing."

"Simple," Viktor's voice was frustratingly light, "the dog is a portal. Yes, he's still an animal, but think of him more as a… host. He lets us in his mind and body whenever we need to. I can manipulate his thoughts, actions, even physical being whenever I want. Not that I do – rarely at best – I like letting him act like the mutt he is. I choose to listen and watch."

Seamus was quiet for a while, thinking hard. He was baffled, but had long ago accepted the fact that many of the things Viktor did were inexplicable, but necessary. Using a dog as a one-way mirror into the private lives of his friends was not too far gone.

"Whose watching them now? A special task force?" he was shaky and irritable.

"Someone I trust," Viktor was firm. It was clear that he would say nothing else on the matter.

Seamus rolled his eyes. "I feel incompetent," he told Viktor. "They blame me, you know, for having no idea where they are. I couldn't tell them, so automatically it's my fault! I acted like a bloody fool in front of Hermione, fighting like I was still a teenager." He pressed his hands to his temples. "I can't even be trusted to know who is ensuring their very safety – do you know how humiliating that is? How much it's taking me not to scream?"

Viktor sat calmly and waited as Seamus' breath grew less harsh. He folded his arms and leaned slightly over his desk. "Perhaps you should take a few weeks off, Finnigan." He shook his head as if he was disappointed. "I don't want to offer it – not now – but I can't afford not to. You've been acting sporadic recently – hot and cold – and it's quite alarming. I want to know you're fit to do your job to its fullest, especially after what's happened."

"I'm not leaving," Seamus hissed in reply. That's all he could muster civilly.

"I'm not exactly offering anymore," Viktor flared at him. "Now, I'm ordering."

"You can't!" Seamus bellowed, lurching halfway out of his seat. "You can't."

"Two weeks, minimum," Viktor commanded, his features set gravelly.

"I'm the best goddamn agent you have," he snarled. "You should be assigning me to a bigger case, not taking me out of the picture completely. You're only jeopardizing yourself."

"Two weeks," Viktor repeated. "And then I've got a mission for you. It can wait fourteen days."

"Hell, why just a mission?" Seamus cried, flinging his arms out wildly, "Why not launch a whole attack? That's the only way things get done, anyway! The Shop can do it, why not us? Then I'll take a fucking vacation!"

"I've been seriously considering it," Viktor replied smoothly. Seamus froze, eyes wide. "However, it cannot be done until I've confirmed that all my agents are ready. The ambush The Shop launched yesterday was ill thought-out and understaffed. I won't put any of my employees in that kind of silly, preventable danger."

"What?" Seamus whispered, dropping his arms limply to his sides.

"You're going to get what you want, Finnigan," Viktor glanced up at him calmly. "You just have to be patient for a while. Now get out of my office."

A/N: Did you like it?? I hope so.

To clear up any confusion about Gus and Viktor - the dog wasn't Viktor. The dog was a dog, only he opened himself for the use of Viktor and his 'special friend.' Ron finding him wasn't a coincidence. And to those who may be confused as to why Viktor is scared of burning the location of Ron and Hermione, though he has access to them anytime he wants... I figure that you have to program a portkey with an exact, specific place in mind. You have to know the address to go to the destination - like Floo powder, you know? Haha okay.

Have a great rest of the week, everyone!

Katie