Special thanks to reviewer Heliosion, who pushed this story to the 1,000 review mark!

Shadow Cub: If you're not a fan of Viktor, you might want to just skim the last scene…

chaosglory626, HiPotAndNews: Jen and Luna aren't quite ready to be a couple yet; the first isn't exactly comfortable with romance rather than just sex, and the second… well, for that one you'll have to wait till next time. Their relationship was supposed to have already started, but with the way this story is writing itself, it's been pushed back to year 5.

Tom Sentou Riddle: Because of you, I just spent the past two days proofreading the earliest chapters of this story and even completely rewrote large chunks of chapters 3 and 4. What is so ironic about this is that when looking at the flashback that was the reason you complained in the first place, I couldn't think of a way to better integrate it into the rest of the chapter.

Poll's still up for anyone who hasn't voted yet. Also, does anyone think I should add Viktor or Cedric to this story's character filter?

Disclaimer: Did Beauxbatons and Durmstrang traipse throughout Hogwarts without a care in the world and not invite the British students onto their own "grounds"? If so, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whoever else she sold the rights to.

Chapter 31
Tentative Trust

Jen slipped her head into the lioness's domain. "Madam Pomfrey? Are you in?"

"Office!" the nurse's voice rang from behind the wooden door to said room. "Go ahead and take a seat!" She made her way to the bed nearest the exit, balancing herself on the edge of the mattress and trying her hardest to ignore the room's sharp bleach smell for the half-minute the older woman needed to finish whatever she was doing and enter the hospital wing proper. "Ah, Miss Black. Is it the first of the month already?"

"It is. Any chance we can skip straight to the eye exam?" she pled.

Pomfrey shook her head and huffed. "I still don't understand why you are so averse to a simple checkup."

"Maybe because I'm perfectly fine and it's a waste of my time?"

"You may think you're invincible, but it's my responsibility to make sure hard-headed teenagers like yourself aren't ignoring any potential problems," the nurse snapped back, though resignation tinged her voice. They had been having this same argument since the end of the Slytherin Task, and neither of them was willing to yield her position.

And unless I want her to hex me in the back and scan my body while I'm unconscious… again… I have to let the shrew do what she wants. Pomfrey, four; me, bloody zero. "Fine, fine. Just get the damn thing over with already."

"You are so lucky you aren't my child, or you'd have soap suds pouring from your mouth for a full year." The woman whipped her wand out of a pocket and locked the door. While Jen's – for the moment, at least – most hated enemy was otherwise occupied, she gripped the magic racing up her spine and cut it off from the nerves in her arms. Her back immediately started to grow uncomfortably warm, and a steady tattoo beat on the inside of her skull.

Without a magical core, her body was meant to channel magic, not contain it.

"Let's examine you physically first," the nurse said unhurriedly, waving her stick in an elaborate dance. The diagnostic spell slithered over the Ravenclaw like a thousand centipedes, and she took no pains to mask her shudder. After a moment, the magic leapt back to Pomfrey's wand. "Your heart rate is a tad elevated—"

"Whyever could that be, I wonder."

"—but other wise you are no more unhealthy now than last month."

Random spots along her body began sending strange sensations of heat and cold, touch and numbness, and Jen immediately let a trickle of power slide back down her arms and out her hands. The last thing she needed was for a section of her spinal cord to burn out while in Pomfrey's presence. "'No more unhealthy', I like that. Such an oblique way of saying, 'Well, I guess you were right, after all,' without giving me the chance for an 'I told you so' moment. You wouldn't happen to have been in Slytherin house once upon a time, would you?"

"Oh, good heavens, no. I'm actually a Beauxbatons alumna." Pomfrey's mouth crinkled in what Jen presumed was supposed to be a winning smile. "My parents felt I desperately needed to improve my manners."

"I sure hope they got their gold back. It didn't do a thing for your bedside manner."

"You'd be surprised. Used to be smart-mouthed brats would leave my infirmary in worse shape than when they'd entered." The nurse aimed the willow shaft at her again. "Any charmed objects or spells on your clothing?"

Jen shook her head, and a wave of magic stretched from the wandtip to sweep down her entire frame. The spell, its job now done, detached from the focus and reformed itself into a sphere with a tremulous border. Barely withholding a sigh, she let the magic trapped inside her tissues finally pour out; another long moment was spent repairing the minor damage her subterfuge had inflicted on her nerves.

She would be so glad when she no longer had to return here on a regular basis.

Pomfrey examined the results of her spell with a frown. "This instability in your core still bothers me. You're sure you aren't having any problems with your classwork?"

"No, just like the last three times you've asked me that question." Ever since her 'magical exhaustion' following the wandless duel, the meddling nurse had been far too interested in her magical state. The first time Pomfrey inquired, she had simply refused to answer and tried to leave, leading the woman to stun her and perform a 'standard, non-invasive' examination anyway.

Apparently, adolescent witches and wizards did not possess the right to refuse treatment of their own volition.

This would not normally be such a problem, but since she did not store magic in her body, any scan of her core would interpret her as being magically exhausted. Pomfrey had been incensed that she was not 'properly focused on her own well-being', and what could have been a one-time occurrence instead became yet another part of her monthly eye exam. Forcibly holding back the energy gushing through her was the only reliable way she had come up with to beat the test; she had considered a simple runic 'battery' of sorts, but the nurse had warned her that if there was even a hint of trickery, she would have to undergo the diagnostics naked, which would not trouble her one whit, and unconscious, which was a bit more of a problem.

The 'I might have overexerted myself yesterday' excuse would not fly now that Pomfrey had found a spell to visualize her core and check for potential damage to it rather than simply reading the volume of magic currently in her body. Her current strategy to protect her secrets was serviceable but not perfect, as proven by the fluttering edges of the simulation.

The nurse thought for a moment before reluctantly shrugging. "It's possible this is your core's natural state. The random fluctuations could explain your sensitivity to magic, at least, and even your violent reaction to ingested potions. I never thought I would see someone vomit up an antiemetic before you showed up." Jen grimaced; intentionally purging the potions the concerned nurse had shoved down her gullet to hide that they were totally ineffective had not been a pleasant experience. "Still, there's no reason not to remain cautious for the time being."

"Which means… what, exactly?"

"We'll continue with this scan for the next couple of months, and if – if – the results are unchanged by the time you finish your potion regimen, you won't have to keep coming by next year."

She laughed and clapped her hands once. "Oh, thank the Baron! I thought you'd never let me go!"

"Don't get too excited," Pomfrey warned, cutting off Jen's celebrations. "If your core becomes more unstable or you start experiencing issues, I'll send you to St. Mungo's no matter how much you complain about it."

The girl sighed and nodded once but did not protest further. Two, maybe three checkups were all that stood between her and freedom. "So, can we finally get to the point of all this?"

"Perhaps if you griped less, we would finish earlier," retorted the nurse. "Have you observed any changes in your vision since last time?"

"Yes! A couple of weeks ago, I actually noticed a difference when my eyes were open as opposed to being closed. The light's gotten brighter since."

"That is marvelous news. Take your blindfold off so I can examine them."

Jen hesitated for a moment; only Cissy during her most recent weekend trip home and she herself through her scrying mirror had seen what her eyes looked like now that they were not rough and totally white. Not like I have much of a choice, though, she reminded herself as she unwound the cotton strip wrapped around her head. Even without that barrier, her world remained dark; the numbing charm on her eyes that negated the burning of the scar-reducing potion also shut down what little vision she had regained. Brushing her fringe out of the way, she calmly faced the older woman.

Pomfrey did not seem to consider anything amiss as she leaned in with her wand alight for a closer look. "Well, you certainly will not want for attention from the boys once they can see your eyes. I can already tell that they will be quite beautiful."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey." She bit her lower lip in a moment of false nervousness that did not go unnoticed. Now that she had the nurse's undivided attention, she continued, "There are far worse things I could have inherited from my mother, I suppose."

The matron frowned for a moment before her face went cold as she finally figured out the hint. Jen barely resisted shaking her head in disappointment; she was displeased but not unsurprised at the negative reaction her words had garnered. It was not a secret she could maintain indefinitely, and she needed to know what the average person's immediate response would be. Just as she prepared to remove the past few seconds from Pomfrey's memory, the woman flushed in wild anger and snarled, "Well, that explains a few things. James Potter, you son of a bitch…"

Then again, I wasn't planning for an outcome quite this bad. She muttered, "I knew I should have just kept my mouth shut."

"Oh no, dearie," Pomfrey exclaimed, reaching over to grab her hands. "I'm not mad at you; you had absolutely no say about any of this, nor do you have anything to be ashamed of. Do you understand me? Nothing. At. All. Your father, on the other hand, will answer for quite a bit if I ever get my hands on him."

Jen gaped a bit at the sudden show of support, especially considering how she was only a moment away from mucking about in the mediwitch's mind. She could count the number of times she had actually felt guilty about her actions on two hands with fingers left over, but this was rapidly becoming one of them. "So I guess I shouldn't worry about my potion being replaced with a fast-acting poison or something like that, right?"

"Of course not. Even if that weren't illegal, unethical, and immoral in the first place, I would never punish a child for her parents' actions." Pomfrey pulled a vial from her pocket and slipped it into Jen's hand. "Poison-free, I promise."

Both females took a moment to regain their equilibria; once calm, the nurse continued briskly, "Since you've already regained enough vision to distinguish light from dark, I want you to spend twenty or thirty minutes each morning before you apply the potions just letting your retinas readjust to seeing once more. The rest of the day, however, you may want to keep your blindfold on. The potion you're taking is, after all, melting the scars off your cornea; I would rather not test what it would do if a foreign object found its way into your eye, nor do I think you want to know, either. I'll give you a vision test next time, and if Professor Snape's prediction is correct, you should be fully recovered by early July at the very latest and more likely late June."

"That will be wonderful," Jen commented as she replaced the fabric. Standing from the bed, she paused for a second before asking, "Madam Pomfrey? Could you, maybe, keep what you learned today a secret?"

"You know it will come out eventually."

"I know, but… I would really like to finish a full year here before I start dragging skeletons out of the closet."

The nurse hesitated for a heartbeat before sighing softly. "You have my word. No one will hear it from me."

Stella Zabini dropped her cloak to the ground carelessly after Apparating into her quiet home, sure that the house-elves she inherited from her most recently deceased husband would see to it. The British cattle she was forced to deal with in the Wizengamot were an arrogant, loutish bunch, and right now she wanted nothing more than to take a nice, warm bath and spend a little time with her daughters.

"I wondered when you'd finally return."

She whirled about to face the intruder standing in the darkened doorway leading to the den. A loose black cloak hid the speaker's appearance and even gender, though the soft, gravelly voice made her think it was a man. She mentally enticed him to come closer to her so she could drain him dry, but something – Occlumency, most likely – repulsed her efforts. Disappointed that her first tactic had failed, she demanded in a shrill voice, "Why have you broken into my home? I should call the DMLE!"

"Yes, I'm sure they would be more than pleased to search this place considering the many men who 'mysteriously' perished once you got your hooks into them."

"Accidents," she denied immediately. "Tragic and unusual, I'll admit, but accidents nonetheless."

A chuckle drifted from the figure's hood. "Oh, I'm sure they were accidents; their deaths were due to your carelessness rather than any active malice. Self-control is too much to expect from a succubus."

Her eyes widened. How did this snack know?!

"Surprised? I don't see why; it isn't like you went to any trouble to hide it. Your son had the same bad habit."

"You…" she snarled.

"Yes, me. Do you really think I would leave a newly-awakened incubus to prey on a castle full of schoolchildren once I learned of his presence? I would never be able to look my brothers- and sisters-in-arms in the eyes again."

Stella felt a sliver of icy fear slide down her spine and quench the fires of rage burning in her belly. There was only one possible explanation for how this unknown man had uncovered all her secrets, who he was referring to as his comrades: he was a Cacciatore.

The Order of Hunters, despite all her precautions, had found her at last.

The silence was deafening as she stared down the murderer, her left hand slowly creeping towards the pocket that held her wand. The Hunter, perhaps dismissing her as a threat because she was out of arms' reach, did not move from his relaxed stance. Her fingers touched wood, and she whipped her wand out to point at his heart. At that exact moment, the fireplace in the den flared to life and illuminated the room.

She realized now that the house was too quiet.

Four small figures floated limply in the air behind him, silhouetted by the firelight. Teresa hung next to her eldest sister Eloisa on his left while the twins, Adelina and Saveria, were to his right. Around each delicate neck spun a flat ring of pink magic, and Stella knew with terrible certainty that even if she managed to avenge Blaise's death, this monster would take the rest of her children with him out of pure spite.

"Drop it," he ordered lazily, his voice positively dripping with cruel humor.

She had no choice but to comply, and her wand inexplicably rolled across the room to rest at his feet. Unarmed, defenseless, she stared at his hostages before asking helplessly, "What do you want?"

"What do I want? You and your brood dead, for starters." She flinched minutely, and her panicked heart raced faster as Teresa, her baby, drifted closer to him. A gloved hand reached out from a slit in the side of his cloak to caress the toddler's cheek. "Unfortunately, circumstances don't always let us have what we want. You speak too effectively in defense of magical creatures for you to pay the full price for your crimes just yet. That said, succubi cannot be permitted to regain a foothold in this country.

"So, as distasteful as I find the thought of treating a beast like yourself like a real person, I offer a… compromise."

For the first time since the Hunter had revealed himself, Stella's hopes rose. She was a politician, and deals were her bread and butter. "What kind of compromise?"

"First, you will not take another lover. Explain it to the masses however you wish if you feel you must. Continue fighting for the rights of sentient creatures, though you will not propose or even support motions that seek to grant greater rights to your species. Abide by these rules, and you can remain in Britain unmolested.

"Your children, too, may live, but never again in this country. You will send them back to Italy, and they will stay there. If I ever see them on these shores again, I will kill them and leave their heads here for you to find."

She took the audacious demand in stride; hagglers always started at an extreme, knowing they would eventually meet in the middle. "You drive a hard bargain, signore, but that is far too stringent. As you yourself say, I have done much good during my time in Britain; surely that balances the harm I have dealt to relatively few? I'll accept staying single and not suggesting changes to the laws concerning my brethren. My little girls haven't done anything wrong, however, so they should be under no restrictions, though I will endeavor to teach them how to feed upon their partners safely and with an eye for causing as few deaths as possible. What say you to that?"

"You wish to propose a counter-offer?" She barely kept from rolling her eyes; surely this stupid human knew how bargaining worked. "Very well…"

She smiled beatifically.

"…but it will cost you." The sharp ring around her youngest daughter's throat began to hum ominously and slowly shrank. Two finger-widths of space between magic and skin. One. Touching…

"Stop! Don't hurt her!"

The spell halted but did not retreat, and a few beads of blood ran down Teresa's bronze skin before the wound could seal itself. "Allow me to be blunt, Zabini. I do not negotiate. I do not make deals. Your choice is simple: take my offer or watch your children die before joining them yourself. You have three seconds. Two—"

"I'll do it!" she screamed.

A smile was obvious in his evil voice. "You'll do what?"

"I'll send the girls to my parents in Florence and tell them never to come here again. I won't take another lover. I'll do everything I can to deny my people rights in this country. Just don't hurt my babies!"

He inclined his head. "It should not need to be said, but you will also tell no one of this conversation. Understood?"

"Yes, yes, no one will know! Please!"

"Then we have an accord." Four bodies flew into her, pink sparkles trailing from around their necks, and she flung her arms out to gather her children to her. "You have until sundown tomorrow to remove them from this land; should you not, or should you violate the terms of our agreement, the outcome will be… unfortunate. For you. Pray we do not meet again." With a sharp crack, the Hunter was gone.

Stella rested her head against those of her collected daughters and wept in relief. Tomorrow would be a time for strategy, a time for departures.

Tonight, she was just glad she had not lost another child.

Jen vanished the conjured leathers clothing her and restored the plain cloak to it's former fur-lined state before returning it to its hook. She knew her threats had been more than a little heavy-handed, but she had to be sure Lady Zabini thought she was truly a member of the Order of Hunters. A group dedicated to genocide would not give their foes a single inch, so neither could she.

Just the other week, Tracey had brought up the valid concern that the eldest Zabini daughter was already eleven years old and set to enter Hogwarts next year. Under ordinary circumstances this would not concern her – the girl would not awaken to her predatory nature until after Jen had already graduated – but she found herself feeling protective of the current first-year Slytherins and Ravenclaws she had brought together this year just as she had been the younger Candyland employees. Succubi were a different danger than bobbies, but the drive to protect was the same.

Damn her maternal instincts.

She stepped across the landing into the communal showers for this floor of Ravenclaw Tower and turned the hot water on full. In ten minutes, if that, she had neutralized a threat to 'her kids', intimidated a mover-and-shaker in the government, and hadn't even had to grievously injure anyone in the process. Well, not physically, anyway. There were worse ways to spend a Thursday evening.

Fraulein Eberhardt,

This will likely be my final request of you, and it is one that should be simple to complete. I have a teenaged cousin who has expressed an interest in learning the Dark Arts, which, due to its… dubious legality… in Britain, is not a field he can easily find information on.

When his dilemma was brought to my attention, my mind immediately went to you. I know from various sources that you reached the top tier on last year's Competency exams, and were, in fact, one of Germany's highest scorers in the subject. Therefore, I would very much appreciate it if you would forward copies of your notes to me, preferably already in English so I can avoid using the translation charm myself and having the notes in my own handwriting should the wrong person see them.

Other than that, I wish you well in the Final Task. Even if you are in last place in terms of points, it does not sound like that will matter once everyone has entered the field of battle. Move quickly enough, and you may well take the Cup.

Bloggs-Whitaker

Kneeling at his Master's feet, Barty licked his lips nervously. "My Lord, may I ask You a question?"

"You already have," the high voice hissed silkily, trailing into a quiet chuckle. "But yes, my faithful servant, you may ask. What troubles you so?"

"It is about Potter, my Lord." His grip tightened on His wand, and the former Hufflepuff hurriedly continued, "Why must we wait until the end of the last Triwizard Task? I could easily steal him away from Hogwarts now, even under the old fool's nose. You would have Your body back much faster then."

A tiny hand stretched out and lightly patted his arm. "Ah, I understand. You are correct in that I wish to return to my former glory as quickly as possible, but there are three obstacles that stand in the way of your suggestion. First, so long as the boy is inside the castle's walls, neither Portkey nor Apparation will pull him away unless done by Dumbledore himself. Second, even if you did find some way around the wards, it would certainly reveal your subterfuge, and it is not impossible that the old man would stop you from leaving. I need someone to provide me with the potion necessary to maintain this body, or were you planning to leave me to my own devices? Have you tired of caring for your master so soon?"

"Of course not, my Lord! My only desire is to serve You always."

That cold voice laughed, and Barty flushed with embarrassment. "You make your intentions obvious, my precious servant. It is a mystery how you deceived your father for so long prior to my fall. Nevertheless, I said there were three reasons, did I not? The third, and most important, reason you may not steal Potter away is that I do not know how the ritual and the Goblet of Fire would interact, nor am I eager to find out."

"Master?"

"The Goblet is utterly draconian when it comes to punishment; any form of noncompliance with the trials set forth is enough for the champions to be disqualified. Late to a Task? They lose their magic. Suffer a crippling injury that prevents them from competing? They lose their magic. Even – and pay attention to this, Barty – even being kidnapped has historically been sufficient for them to lose their magic.

"Under ordinary circumstances, I would not care. Potter would be long dead by the time that became an issue. Unfortunately, nothing to do with that boy is ever ordinary. When I create a new body with his blood, there is a chance, however small, that the binding laid upon his magic by the Goblet will be transferred to me rather than ending with him. With that in mind, he must be allowed to complete the Tournament lest I be reduced to a squib."

"That will never happen, my Master! I will do everything in my power to make sure Your plan comes to fruition," Barty vowed. His glorious Lord, nothing more than a pitiful squib? Such a thing could not be allowed to come to pass! "Do You wish me to get rid of the other competitors during the Task so Potter can win unopposed?"

The Dark Lord hummed thoughtfully to Himself before replying, "…No, I think not. I wish to use the Potter brat's blood in my reincorporation, but his performance has been lackluster at best. To tell the truth, I must profess myself disappointed. Ease his path, but do not turn it to certain victory. If he wins, I will take his blood and display his corpse as my campaign flag, but should he not be good enough to succeed even with your assistance, there is little point in hobbling myself by integrating his inadequacy into my new body. I will simply use the blood of the victor, the most talented young magical the Goblet can provide me, and then rid myself of that scarred thorn in my side."

Viktor peered into the courtyard that led out of the castle, both relieved and disappointed that Jen Black was not out there for his eyes to immediately be drawn to. Over the past six weeks, he had been astounded at how often they were in the same area, for every time they were, he inevitably spent a few seconds longer than necessary just watching her.

And every moment his gaze rested on her, his desire for her – despite the age difference, the media's reaction if his thoughts were found out, and her status as nobility in this country – burned hotter and hotter.

Shouldering his way through the mass of students milling about after an afternoon exam, he eventually made it outside and onto the, if not really uncrowded, at least more open grounds. He had just spent nine hours studying non-stop for his Charms Proficiency exam, and he was far too frustrated to deal with fawning fans. All he wanted right now was a cold shower, a large meal, and an early night.

The moment his feet hit the grass, his eyes turned of their own accord towards the raven-haired young woman – girl, he reminded himself sternly – who had been plaguing his mind so often. She was standing on the banks of Hogwarts's lake and speaking to a fourth-year boy with sandy-blond hair. Viktor felt a stirring in his breast, a beast with sharp claws and sharper fangs demanding to be let out to savage everyone else after the object of his affection.

He blinked. Am I… jealous? That she is spending time with someone her own age? Truly? I am more mature than that, and it is not as if she is mine, anyway.

Shaking his head to throw off such foolish thoughts, he saw the other boy stomp off, and the green-eyed monster settled down. She turned to him with a smile and approached with quick but unhurried steps. "Viktor! How are you doing today?"

"As vell as can be expected," he replied with a casual roll of his shoulders. "Studying for exams. You?"

"It turns out that being the only one in the Tower not revising is just as stressful as preparing. I've taken to wandering around the castle, just going wherever my feet led me." She waved one hand at the water. "Today that meant the lake, apparently."

"I see." He steeled himself and continued, "Your boyfriend did not look happy. Did you two haff a fight?"

"Boyfriend?" Jen snorted in condescending dismissal. "Only in his dreams. Macmillan considers himself Merlin's gift to witches; he can't understand that there are girls who aren't lured in by his so-called charm." With a huff, she waved the conversation away. "It's not important."

"If it has upset you, it is important." An idea sprang to his mind; it would anger Karkaroff to no end, but recently anything and everything could set the Highmaster off. So much for my thoughts of a relaxing evening. "I haff some butterbeers on de ship if you vish to talk about it. It vould be more private dan out here."

She snickered, and immediately he saw the flaw in his phrasing. "My, my, so forward. Planning to carry me off to your cabin and have your wicked way with me, were you?"

"Not at all! I just—"

"I'm joking, Viktor. I know what you were saying." Drawing her wand, she twisted it in a small circle. When the crowd simultaneously turned their faces away from the pair, he realized what she had done and could not help but be impressed. Diminishing or eliminating wand movements, something he had noticed about her spells several times before now, was a seventh-year skill; he could not imagine how much more difficult it would be to then learn to cast an avoidance charm with the wrong motion.

In fact… during our duel, she used different movements than what is taught for all her spells. That would partly explain why I could never predict what she would do next.

Their trip to the Durmstrang ship was mostly silent; the main disadvantage of avoidance charms was that they were incredibly easy to break from the inside. Anything that would draw attention, even slightly raised voices, would shatter the spell. After a few minutes, though, he slipped his arm out of her grasp and waved a hand up the gangplank. "After you."

"If I'm not terribly mistaken, Hogwarts students aren't allowed on here or in the Beauxbatons carriage," Jen mused idly as she nevertheless made her way up. The moment her foot hit the deck, she looked at him over one shoulder with a small smirk. "I feel like I'm claiming virgin land."

"Vun of dese days, your mouth vill get you into trouble," he muttered, though his low tone did not hide his words from her if her chuckle was any indication.

Due to his status as a world-class athlete and then Durmstrang's senior champion, Karkaroff had done everything the bigoted Highmaster could think of to stay in his good graces. To that end, he had been given what used to be the first mate's cabin; while not as large as the captain's compartment, it was still spacious and private. "Very impressive," Jen commented as she sat on the end of his wide bed and propped herself up with her arms, one bobbing foot drawing his attention to milky legs. He could not help but notice that the skirt laying demurely over her crossed thighs looked just a little shorter than was entirely appropriate for a schoolgirl. "Any chance I can get that drink?"

He shook himself from his reverie and pulled a pair of bottles from the icebox. While he used his wand to remove the cap, she simply thumbed the metal disc off in a smooth motion he had never seen outside taverns. "Nice trick. Vhere did you learn it?"

"Thanks," she replied after taking a long swig of butterbeer. "When I was younger, I knew a couple of bartenders who taught me a thing or two. Opening beers, juggling bottles, mixing drinks… I make a fantastic highball, if I do say so myself."

"So, you are a noble who not only dances like a princess, but fights like a tiger and serves drinks, too?" He sat in the chair in front of his desk, grinning at the mental image of the young woman – girl! – twirling in her ball gown behind a bar. "Vhat an interesting life you must haff had as a jild."

Jen giggled. "It was, at that. If you want to know the truth, I didn't…" She trailed off before shaking her head with a halting laugh. "Sorry about that, just reminiscing. Feel free to ignore me."

"I vant to know," he replied, leaning forwards in restrained curiosity. "If you are villing to tell me, dat is."

She hesitated, her face and her body revealing nothing, before finally she relaxed marginally and tilted her head slightly. "I could be, I suppose. So long as it never left this room."

"Of course."

"While a witch taught me magic for several years, neither of us knew that I was actually nobility. It wasn't until last summer when Sirius, the Head of my House, tracked me down that I found out." She shrugged, which, considering how she was positioned on his bed, did very distracting things to her chest. "My aunts did their best to give me all the skills a woman of my station should already have in the short time they've had, but that doesn't change the fact that I can do quite a few things a 'polite high-society girl' shouldn't be able to."

Viktor had already learned that Jen only enrolled in her school this year, but the idea she had grown up without knowing anything about her family was a disconcerting one; he could not begin to imagine a life like hers. He had always had his parents and his older brother around, even when he hadn't necessarily wanted them there. "I am sorry."

"Sorry? Whatever for?"

His brow crinkled in confusion. "For bringing up such bad memories, of course."

She smiled sultrily as she slipped off the foot of his bed and set her bottle on the floor. "Oh, you are a gallant one. My very own Bulgarian knight. The Blacks discovering me was a turning point in my life, certainly, but rather than moan about how hard my life was yesterday, I prefer to think about how much better I have it today." She sashayed forwards and dropped into his lap. Shocked yet aroused, he half-heartedly tried to push her off, but then her lips met his, her tongue met his, and his arms draped themselves around her waist of their own accord.

The young woman pulled away, and he opened his mouth to complain when her hot breath met his ear. The beast in his chest rumbled in approval. "Not to mention, there are several pleasant skills I picked up that I never would have had I not had the childhood I did. Let me show you what I mean…"

Jen buried her face deeper into the broad chest it rested on with an annoyed sigh. Her distress was not due to their recent exertions – Viktor was as talented a lover as he was a fighter or flyer – but rather how they had gotten there. She had been working on reverse engineering the mental 'come hither' Lady Zabini had tried to use on her, and two weeks ago she thought she had finally succeeded. Naturally, she had to try it out on someone; why not a man she would actually enjoy spending additional time with?

It would have been perfect… if I hadn't specifically been trying to weaken it enough that it did nothing more than draw my target's attention rather than putting him or her into a lust-fueled haze. If I wanted to do that, I could have just manipulated Viktor's emotions directly.

And what was with my giving him details about my childhood, sanitized though they were? He didn't need to know that I wasn't raised a Black! Bloody hell, leading people to assume Cissy or Arcturus simply kept me out of the public eye has been part of my plan all along, and I just spill it with the slightest prompting? What am I, some stupid schoolgirl with a crush?!

Oh, bloody buggering bollocks no! I do not fancy Viktor! Yes, he's attractive, and yes, he's a damn good shag, but I don't have feelings for him!

…Do I?

"Stop dat."

She exhaled harshly and twisted a bit to face him. "Stop what?"

"You are a dinker. Now dat ve aren't just doing, you're dinking about it and vhy ve shouldn't haff done it at all."

"Well, excuse me for considering the consequences of sleeping with an international Quidditch star."

A rough finger tracing random designs on one fleshy globe of her rump brought a faint grin to her face, and a second brushed a lock of hair from in front of her face. It was a good thing she had vanished her blindfold to her dorm before actively seducing him. "And I haff to face de consequences of sleeping vith a fourteen-year-old girl. Who has de vorse dilemma?"

Ah, that is a problem. "Remember tonight fondly but never speak of it to anyone?"

"Da, dat sounds like a good plan." Now that that was settled, they both relaxed, Viktor drawing her closer to his side. "If anyding, I am surprised you are not more distressed dan dis."

"As you could probably tell, it's not like this was my first time. I lost my virginity when I was…" six "…twelve." At his shocked jerk, she elaborated, "Nothing bad, I just got to enjoy puberty earlier than most. I may be fourteen, almost fifteen in age, but I'm closer to sixteen or seventeen from a developmental standpoint. Anyway, I've had sex periodically since then, so it's not unfamiliar to me. First time with a celebrity, I'll admit, but as satisfying as you were, it doesn't change the mechanics."

They were silent for several minutes, just enjoying the afterglow, before he spoke again. "Your plan to stay silent is a good vun, but I do not like dat I vill not see you again. I haff never met anyvun kite like you."

"Oh, I'm sure we'll see each other again. There's still a few days until the last Task, and then the feast the night before you leave." She snickered as his face shifted into a frown. "I know what you mean, though. I don't like it, either."

"Mmm… perhaps ve could exjange letters occasionally? It is a long vay from Bulgaria to Britain, but de goblins run an international post service dat does not rely on owls."

"Or I could send my familiar; he's faster and has greater endurance than any mere post-owl." This alone would not change the fact that their liaison would end tonight, but… "I took your advice, by the way. About the Dark Arts class."

"Oh?"

She hummed in affirmation. "Yeah. I'll study the material I sent for over the summer and this upcoming year, and if everything goes as planned, I'm going to be on the Continent next July to take the Competency exam."

His chest vibrating with his quiet laughter, he gave her waist a squeeze. "Since de International Confederation of Vizards is in jarge of administering de exams, you can take it in any affiliated country. I might even know somevun who has a flat you can stay in so you do not haff to sleep in a hostel…"

"That almost sounded like a proposition," she commented slyly. A rake of her fingernails caused the flesh of his abdomen to shiver. "Want to try again?"

"Fine. Miss Black, vould you be villing to spend a few nights vith me in Sofia next summer?"

Smiling, she slid fully atop him and ground herself against his rapidly rehardening rod. "I would be delighted, Mister Krum."

Some of you I'm sure have already figured out what Jen and Pomfrey were discussing, but please keep it to yourselves. For those of you who haven't, don't worry about it; I'll do an actual reveal fairly early in the summer before fifth year.

Yes, Rowling's dreaded "monster in the chest" has made an appearance! Of course, the socially-competent Viktor recognizes it for what it really is. Also, that last scene wrote itself without any say on my part, so no jumping down my throat about it.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to have a quick chat with my muse…

Silently Watches out.