A/N: Apologies are due, I believe, for this late chapter. I know it's been over a month, and I know I'm guilty, but real life got in the way for a while and then I got attacked by vicious plot bunnies. I really am sorry though! To make up for it I added an extra scene that increased the length of the chapter by two thousand words, so there's that to look forward to :D
Thank you for your patience, and once again I do apologise for the delay.
The arrival of the morning post shook the Gryffindors from their sleepy stupor. The entire house, first to third years included, had celebrated Harry's victory from the moment he was discharged from the infirmary till the crack of dawn. To Hermione's knowledge some of them were pulling an all-nighter. She herself wasn't one to stay up late on a school night, but for Harry's sake she made an exception. He hasn't been this happy since he was selected by the Goblet, so she couldn't help but grin and lift her Butterbeer in salutation as he was lifted by the twins and paraded around the common room to the cheers of a crowd that have previously hurled insults and false accusations his way.
She was also still worried about Viktor, but that she kept to herself. The last she saw of him he was being moved from the infirmary to rest in his own dormitory on board his school's ship, mumbling still in his sleep about dress robes of all things mixed with who-knows-what in his native tongue. Whatever it was it didn't seem to please Karkaroff too much, for on his way out he shot a particularly nasty look at Ron and Hermione huddled near Harry's bed.
The trio exchanged looks. Harry shrugged when all inquisitive eyes turned to him.
"Don't worry about him, Harry," said George. "He's probably still crying over you almost beating his precious Dumb Krum."
"Don't call him that," said Hermione before she could stop himself.
"Oh of course you'll want to defend your stupid boyfriend," said Ron derisively, sitting on Harry's other side with his arms crossed. "Can't stand seeing a scratch on him, can you?"
"He's not my boyfriend!" she said hotly, clenching her fists by her side. "And he's not stupid, you are!"
Hermione's never one to call people stupid, not unless if angered enough, but with that final blow Ron just managed to push her past the point of 'angered enough'. He's done nothing but shoot her accusatory looks and snide comments since her return from Viktor's side, and she tried her best to ignore him for Harry's sake but she's only human and Ronald Weasley had a way of pushing all her buttons at once with a single word or phrase.
"And how do you know he's smart?" he challenged. "Krum's great on a broom and all, but he's as thick as they come. Everyone who knows anything about Quidditch knows that. Besides," he scoffed, turning to Harry, "catching a Snitch isn't that hard. Harry does it all the time and he doesn't get enough for it."
Harry squirmed uncomfortably. "I'd really rather not deal with any more fame than necessary..."
"You don't even know him, Ron!" she shot back stubbornly. "These are all things you've read about him in fan magazines. Have you ever actually talked to him or assessed his performance as a wizard and a student?"
"Of course not. I'm not one to get all nice and cozy with my best mate's enemy just because he happens to be a celebrity. I know where my loyalties lie."
"Enemy?!" she half-shrieked, springing to her feet to glare scathingly down at him. "How about you get your head out of your arse for once and think before you speak! Weren't you the one fawning over him just before the Quidditch World Cup, calling him a god and an artist and all that nonsense?"
"She does have a point, little brother," interjected Fred, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "You were very much in love, if I remember correctly. Very emotional, too. It was quite a touching sight, nearly brought tears to my eyes…"
Ron's head snapped towards his older brother, his face bright red and his glare more prominent. "You stay out of this."
"Make me!"
George was between them just as Ron stood on his feet to meet the challenge. "As much as I'd like to start betting on the winner- my money's obviously on you, Freddie. –our champion here is getting very upset, and rightfully so. We're supposed to be celebrating his almost-victory."
"Oh, um, I-" Harry faltered at being the center of attention again, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "Really guys, that's not necessary–"
George waved him off, grinning. "Not another word, mate. You focus on healing that cut and don't worry about anything else. Big brother George is here to save the day."
And he did just that by ushering them all out of the infirmary and towards the common room where he got them too busy decorating to start fighting again. Hermione and Ron avoided each other throughout the night and seemed to have come to a silent, mutual agreement just before breakfast this morning to put the incident behind them and to pretend that it never happened.
Better this than weeks of the silent treatment, I suppose… she thought with a sigh, leaning her cheek on her palm and drawing circles in her cold porridge with her spoon. Her eyes drifted towards the Slytherin table when the first half of the breakfast hour passed. It was nearly full but Viktor's place was still empty. She frowned at the sight. He can't still be asleep. It was only a sprained ankle. He should've been up and about hours ago.
Unless… did Charlie lie to her, to ease her worries? She shook her head. He wouldn't do that to her, and even if he did she'd know. She saw Viktor with her own eyes and he was fine. He was hallucinating and a little disoriented, but otherwise fine.
An irritated hoot startled her out of her thoughts. A beautiful striped owl stood next to her plate. Hermione assumed that she must've landed too gracefully to announce her presence as the other owls normally do by spilling things over. She blinked sleepily at the owl, trying to recognise her, and it's probably the work of her sleep-deprived mind but she could've sworn the thing was actually staring haughtily down her beak at her.
"Krum!" gasped Ron.
Hermione's head snapped towards the Slytherin table, searching frantically for the tall lean figure. "Where?"
Ginny nudged her, biting back a knowing, albeit sleepy grin. "The owl, Hermione. It's from Krum."
Oh. Oh.
Hermione blushed, clearing her throat and looking at no one but the owl. "I see."
It was then she saw the crest with Cyrillic letters hanging from the owl's breast. The owl placed her talon on Hermione's hand just as she was about to untie the letter. Hermione sighed tiredly then retrieved the letter with her free hand. She didn't have the energy to question it. Too many strange things were happening and the day had only just begun.
"Well, aren't you a perfect little lady," crooned Ginny, stroking the owl's wing. The bird looked highly offended by the gesture.
The letter wasn't from Viktor reassuring her that's he's alright, as she had secretly hoped. It was from a person she's never even thought of.
"D-Daughter!" she sputtered, turning an even brighter shade of pink at reading just the first word. "Honestly, how does she–! We've never even met, how could she just assume that… that I'm just…ugh!"
Ginny's attention was quickly on Hermione again. She leaned away from the owl to look over Hermione's shoulder. "Who's it from?"
"His mother!"
"What!" This time it was Harry, nearly choking on his cereal. "How do you know Krum's mother?"
"I don't, I've never even met the woman and she's already addressing me as her daughter!"
Hermione crumpled the letter in her hands with a growl, and for a moment contemplated burning it. It's bad enough that she's got to deal with the son's obsessive doting on a daily basis, but now it appears that his entire family is hell bent on hounding her when she's already stressed as it is with this dilemma on top of her schoolwork and with the usual task of keeping her best friend alive for another school year.
"What did she want?" asked Ginny after a while when she was sure that Hermione had finally managed to control her breathing.
Hermione opened her mouth to declare that she doesn't know and doesn't care and never wants to know, but then clamped it shut. What if something had happened to Viktor during the night and his mother was only updating her on his condition? Or worse yet, what if he needed her?
With a defeated sigh she unfurled the letter and smoothed it down on the table. It read:
Daughter,
I am happy that my son found his mate early in life, but I'm also beginning to worry that your presence at the games might cost him his life. I'm not angry at you, sweetheart, nor am I blaming you for his injuries but the truth is you distracted him from his task. While he did come in first place despite that blunder he was still at risk, and as his mate I'm sure you'll understand and even agree with me when I say that it's best if you skip attending the remaining two tasks. They will only get more difficult and dangerous from here, and I know that Viktor's safety is far more important to you than attending some silly game.
Now tell me, how is my son treating you? I keep asking him about you but he's ignoring my letters, so when I read of his injuries I took it upon myself to contact you instead. I have no doubt in my heart that he's being the perfect gentleman I raised him to be but sometimes men, especially the overprotective type such as my husband and my son, can come off a little too strongly to those they love most so if he ever steps out of line please let me know.
If you don't mind me saying, I've asked around and heard many wonderful things about you and your adventures with Harry Potter. Needless to say, I'm so very happy to have you as my son's mate and I can hardly wait to meet you. Don't tell Viktor I said this, but the truth is I've always wanted a daughter. I already consider you my own and I hope that one day you will find it in your heart to call me Mama.
Sincerely,
Carolina Krum.
P.S. I understand that, having had a Muggle upbringing, you're likely unaware of our ways and customs. I will teach you everything when the time comes, but for the mean time I placed an order for an English guidebook that will help you with your relationship with my son. I will send it to you as soon as I receive it. I hope that it proves to be as helpful to you as it was with me when I was engaged to my husband. Would you also like to learn Bulgarian? You don't need to, I suppose, as everyone in the house can speak English to a certain degree, but it would be easier for you later when you graduate and move with Viktor to Bulgaria. Owl me your answer and I will send you the necessary material.
For once Hermione was speechless. She gaped at the letter, wondering what it is that she's done to her mother as a child to earn this rather cruel and unusual punishment. Ginny was still leaning over her shoulder, her hazel eyes skimming fast over the neat curves of Carolina Krum's words and gradually widening with disbelief.
Harry reached over the table and grasped her wrist to give her a hard shake. "Hermione. Hermione, breathe!"
She sucked in a quick long gulp of air when she realised that she's been holding her breath since she started reading the letter, then coughed at the sudden attack on her stinging lungs. Ron snatched the letter she dropped in her coughing fit and skimmed over it.
His face blanched, and for once in a long time he and Hermione were on the same page. "They're mental, the whole lot of them!" he absently passed it to Harry, staring at Hermione with alarm. "You can't go to Bulgaria with Krum, Hermione, you've got to do something about this! We can talk to McGonagall or Dumbledore or report him to the bloody Ministry or–"
"Ron, let her breathe first!" Ginny snapped at him, patting Hermione's back. "And it's not exactly illegal for his mother to owl her, just… weird."
"I don't care what it is! I'm telling you he's up to something and now he's got his mother involved. I don't like this and I don't trust him one bit."
"I don't think he knows his mother sent this," said Harry next to him, returning the letter to Hermione. "She said something about customs. Maybe this is just one of them?"
Hermione finally found her voice, however hoarse and shaky it was. "Is it a pureblood tradition of some kind, then?"
Ginny shrugged. "Don't look at me. I come from a family of traitors, remember? I wouldn't know."
"Maybe it's a Bulgarian custom?" suggested Harry.
"I still think we should talk to someone about this!" said Ron. "I say Dumbledore. Harry?"
Harry opened his mouth but Ginny beat him to it. "And what exactly is Dumbledore going to do about this? I'm pretty sure he's got bigger things to worry about than some weird Bulgarian mother thousands of miles away, such as who the bloody hell put Harry's name in the Goblet of Fire!"
"It could be Krum, or Karkaroff!"
"Why would either one of them put Harry's name in?"
"Obviously to get him killed, Ginny! Karkaroff is a Death Eater and Krum wants Hermione to himself."
"Karkaroff I can understand, but Krum? It doesn't make any sense. Harry's not after Hermione, so he wouldn't be a threat to him."
Harry nodded in agreement. "She's like a sister to me."
"Yea, well, he still doesn't know that," said Ron stubbornly. He then turned to Hermione. "What do you say, Hermione? We'll explain everything to Dumbledore and show him the letter."
Hermione took a deep breath, staring down at the letter again. The prospect of getting a powerful wizard such as Dumbledore involved was tempting, but Ginny was right. Dumbledore's got too much on his plate as it is and doesn't need to burden himself any further with something she could easily take care of herself.
She folded the letter and stuffed it in her pocket, then grabbed her bag and got up from the table.
"Where are you going?" asked Ron, frowning.
"Ginny's right, Ron," she said with a sigh. "I can't get Dumbledore involved. I have to take care of this on my own."
"How?"
"I'll talk to Viktor."
She left before he could shout his protests after her. She knew Ron meant well, but she needed whatever energy she had left to properly handle her conversation with Viktor and whatever state he might be in at the moment.
She found him running laps around the lake to the rather loud instructions of Karkaroff. The Death-Eater-turned-headmaster had conjured up a chair and a table with a tray of tea and biscuits that he appeared to have forgotten about in his frenzy to train Viktor to an inch of his life, who was flushed and practically drenched in sweat. He didn't complain or show his exhaustion, though, but continued jogging around the perimeter of the murky lake with his face set in a determined scowl.
Hermione was going to slowly back out of the scene and return later but then Viktor saw her. His eyes widened and then a large, happy grin lit his features. He ran past a bellowing Karkaroff and barrelled straight into her, knocking the wind out of her lungs and nearly throwing them both to the ground.
"Hermione, you are here! You come because you miss me, yes? I miss you too, always. Karkaroff will not allow me to do anything, but is ok because you find me now and I am happy!"
He was talking so fast she was barely able to decipher a few English-sounding words. Her face was pressed against his chest but she somehow knew that he had an elated expression plastered on his face. She was immensely relieved that for the moment he couldn't see her stunned and blushing madly.
She could still hear Karkaroff shouting from the distance. He kept switching from English to Bulgarian. She didn't need to be familiar with the man to know that that can't be a good sign.
"It was the worst day of my life," Viktor declared, either unaware or uncaring of Karkaroff shouting at him from the lake. "I thought Karkaroff will never let me see you again." He then tightened his arms around her and lifted her in the air and spun them around in a circle.
"No Viktor, put me down!" she squealed, pushing at his chest. He released her immediately but didn't seem deterred by her just yet. She took a moment to straighten herself. "We need to talk."
"Viktor, I demand that you come back here this instant!" Karkaroff shouted from near the lake, looking mad and on the verge of tearing his hear out of his scalp.
If Viktor heard Karkaroff at all he didn't show it. He continued smiling lovingly at Hermione instead. She almost pitied the man, but then he turned his murderous glare at her and she couldn't help but flinch. "Perhaps I should come another time…"
The face Viktor made gave her the impression that he just witnessed a tragedy. "No, this is perfect time! Please don't go. I missed you so much."
She fought down another blush at the bold confession. Focus, Hermione! You're upset with him.
"Viktor!" Karkaroff growled between his teeth, his wand hand twitching and his eyes blazing with fury as he pointed a bony finger at the ground before his feet. "Come. Here."
Viktor grasped her hand and the next thing she knew they were running at full speed towards the castle.
"Viktor, no– what- what are you doing?" she squeaked in horror, glancing over her shoulders at a raging Karkaroff and stumbling after Viktor in an attempt to match his faster, longer leaps. Karkaroff's curses were gradually starting to fade behind them, but Viktor grip on her hand only tightened.
"We are running, of course," he said simply, barely even panting.
She glowered at his back. If only she'd agreed to go jogging with her mother during the summer holidays!
They stopped when they neared the entrance of the library, now both winded and leaning against the wall gasping for air.
"What were you thinking?" she shrilled, rounding on him fast when she finally managed to ease her racing heart. "Viktor, you must back and apologise to your headmaster! You'll be in so much trouble if you don't."
Viktor gave her a dismissive wave. "No. Don't care about Karkaroff."
"You will when he deals with you later!"
He shrugged.
She made a frustrated sound, then crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall, glaring at a spot on the ground. "You're stubborn for the stupidest reasons sometimes."
"Wanting to see my mate is not stupid reason. Karkaroff will forget."
"You know he won't!" she said crossly. "And stop using that word!"
"Ok. Igor will forget."
"Word, Viktor, not name." She shook her head. "That's not important right now, anyway." She muttered, then reached into her pocket and pulled out his mother's letter. "I got this just before seeing you."
He unfurled the letter and started reading it. The jubilant expression on his face melted into a deep frown.
"I don't know what you told her," she began, studying his face still glued to the letter, "but this is not… this is too much, Viktor. It's too soon, and very… very overwhelming."
She cursed herself for giving in to her anger and going straight for him instead of practicing her speech first as she normally does. He was expecting some kind of an explanation and she found it difficult to express her thoughts on the matter without revealing her true feelings towards him and potentially breaking his heart.
A tiny, dark thought unexpectedly crept into her mind. What would it really be like, for one to break a Veela's heart? Would it be like a heart attack? Will there be blood, or will he just drop dead on the spot? Will flames engulf him? The female Veela seem to have some kind of affinity with fire...
She shivered. She shoved the thoughts aside. She didn't want to ponder on them anymore than necessary.
"All I'm trying to say is that I need some space to process all this," she said. "And I understand that your mother means well, but her letter… to be honest with you it felt a little stifling, and I just can't handle this right now on top of everything else. Don't get me wrong, she sounds like a kind woman, but I just… I can't–"
He cut her off by heaving a dejected sigh. She was surprised to see that he appeared rather ashamed with his mother's conduct. Hermione was expecting him to come to her defence in a heartbeat, maybe even throw a few hurtful words her way.
He folded the letter and passed it back to her. "I know. I am sorry, Hermione. My mother, she… she's very…" he was gesturing wildly with his hands, struggling with his search for the right word. Hermione suddenly remembered that she hasn't given him his books yet. "She likes to control people. Me." Again he sighed. "You don't worry no more, ok? I will speak to her. I will fix it." He then took both her hands in his and brought them to his lips. "I am sorry she upset you. She is writing to you because I am not. I will tell her to stop."
She averted her eyes and quickly slipped her hands from his. "And– and why don't you write to her?"
"She… how you say? Nags. She nags too much, everyday."
"Viktor!"
"Is true!"
"She's still your mother! She was clearly worried about you fighting that dragon and you haven't even bothered telling her that you're alright. You know what, I changed my mind. I will talk to her about… about this letter." She narrowed her eyes at him when he tried to protest. "You, sir, will apologise for making her worry all this time, and then you'll tell her that you love her and that she's a fantastic mother and you will not mention this letter she sent to me. At all. Do I have your word?"
"Hermione, I don't want to!" he whined.
She bit back a smile at his pout. "I don't care what you want, you will write to your mother this instant." She then grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the library and to the closest empty desk, ignoring his pleadings and complaints all the way. She sat him down and presented him with a clean sheet of parchment and her spare quill. She then took the seat facing his to write her own letter. For a while he did nothing but stare at her with an utterly miserable, shattered look on his face.
It could've worked. She would've probably caved if she was some other girl rather than Hermione Jean Granger, the very same witch that was solely responsible for making her friends submit their homework on time.
"Don't bother. It won't work with me. The faster you write your letter the sooner I'll let you go."
He groaned, but took the spare quill anyway. "I don't want you to let me go. I want to stay with you forever, even when you make me sad. Now you are torturing me but maybe I am crazy because I still want to be with you. Why you do this?"
This time she actually smiled at her paper as she dipped her own quill in ink. She wondered if Ron or the press or any other Quidditch fanatic knew of this incredibly melodramatic side of Viktor Krum.
She was in her room helping Ginny with a Charms essay when she received a reply from Viktor's mother.
"That was fast," commented Ginny as she let the same snooty striped owl in, this time carrying a small package with her. "Didn't you send you reply just after breakfast?"
"I did," replied Hermione, feeling more unsettled than impressed.
She had sent a fairly lengthy reply just this morning, and while it didn't explicitly state that she had zero interest in pursuing a relationship with Viktor at any point in her life, she was still very clear about maintaining her distance for the time being. She also mentioned that they weren't exactly 'official' just yet, nor was there any kind of 'courting' taking place because right now Hermione's utmost priority is her schoolwork. She also said that she simply can't skip attending the remaining two tasks of the tournament because Harry is also competing and he needs her now more than ever. She was careful with her wording but she was still fuelled by her frustration at the rather demanding and slightly condescending letter. She wasn't sure if she's quite ready to read her reply just yet.
The owl gave a disgruntled hoot, pulling Hermione out of her thoughts. "Oh, I'm sorry! You poor thing must be exhausted from all the flying you did today. You can spend the night at the owlery if you want. There's plenty of space available and the other owls are all very friendly."
The owl looked revolted by the prospect, despite her wet and ruffled state. She shoved the talon carrying the letter at Hermione, and once freed of both letter and package, she quickly flew to the window and tapped her beak against the glass. Ginny snorted but moved to open the window. The owl was out before she could push it open all the way.
"Let me find out she's got her own palace in Bulgaria…" said Ginny with an amused smile as she watched the owl fly a good distance before closing the window and joining Hermione on her bed. "I'm going to assume that the package is the book she was talking about. Which one would you like to open first?"
"The letter, I suppose," she muttered, placing the package on Ginny's lap. "You unwrap the package."
Hermione heard the wrapper getting torn to pieces next to het but the letter in her hands momentarily snubbed her curiosity of the book. It was infinitely shorter than the previous letter but much more horrifying to the eyes and mind, and this time she didn't even have to address Hermione as her daughter to have that affect on her.
Why not? The sex is great.
Hermione tore the letter to pieces, her face beet red and her eyes brimming with angry, embarrassed tears. She then swiftly set the remains on fire, her wand shaking in her hand as she glared hard at the flames dying in the bowl she transfigured. Ginny was quiet on the bed behind her, but Hermione could tell from the faint blush on her cheeks that she managed to read the letter just before it got destroyed.
"The sex is great!" Hermione repeated hysterically, now pacing before Ginny, her expression as wild as her hair. "That's all she could say to me, after everything I told her? I'm only fourteen, and her son is barely legal, she shouldn't be encouraging this… this…" she made an angry sound, feeling her face getting redder with the mere thought. "Oh, I should've let Viktor talk to her! That woman is impossible!"
Ginny was quiet for a while, thoughtful. "How does she know?"
"Ginny!"
"I'm serious! Think about it."
"I don't want to!"
"Not that," she said, rolling her eyes. "Krum's half-Veela, yea? According to Fleur those are rare on their own, and according to the many books you've read full male Veela don't exist, so that would make his mother a full Veela and his father a wizard."
Hermione stopped her frantic pacing. "I don't understand. What does that have to do with anything?"
She shrugged. "Nothing really. I'm just curious, I suppose, as to how she'd know that the, urm, the…" again she blushed. She quickly cleared her throat. "That it's great since she's only been with wizards before."
Hermione thought about that for a moment. Truly, how does she know?
She shook her head. She was probably just trying to get Hermione to change her mind.
"I don't know, Ginny," she sighed, flopping down on the bed next to her. "Maybe she's been with a man who was at least partly Veela before she met Viktor's father, or maybe she's just bluffing."
"It's possible," agreed Ginny. "But whatever you may think of her now, you've got to admit that she's got a wicked sense of humour."
"Why do you say that?"
Ginny showed her the book she unwrapped. The cover had a picture of a little boy and a girl cuddling a golden retriever. Puppy Training: an Essential Guide, the title read.
A/N: Karkaroff is going to need a vacation after this, somewhere sunny and tropical and as far away from these pesky lovestruck teenagers as possible... Anyway, I hope you enjoyed that :D