V2

Every Hero has Her Downfall

"I got an 'F'?"

"I'm sorry, Leigh Ann, but your thesis was wrong." Rear Admiral Lucas Boyle glared at me over his small, circular glasses. "Very wrong. I'm rather disappointed with you. If this were your sister's work, we wouldn't be in this mess."

I clutched the paper to me, almost tearing it in my anger. I'd worked so hard on it, detailing nine was more magical than seven in the composition of complex number charts. "My sister isn't here though, sir. I am, and if you'd care to explain to me exactly how my thesis was wrong—"

The insufferable man, instead of helping me, dropped a very, very large tome in my hands and pushed me to get out of his office. The book was "The New Theory of Numberology". "As you can see, I am obviously very busy. Read chapters one through two-hundred-and-sixty-four. Good day, Second Lieutenant."

I turned around to try and reason with him but he slammed the door in my face! I gritted my teeth, let the angriest screech I could manage come from my throat, and threw the book on the ground.

I never get F's, I thought kicking the wall of the temporary teaching lodge. Ever! Merlin, how much I hated Arithmancy! It should have been easy. I'd taken up to Calculus three with my no-maj classes but it was so different from Arithmancy that it completely threw me for a loop and went straight over my head.

"Second Lieutenant!" came a very loud, very familiar, very obnoxious voice. I groaned and turned around to see Professor Plum storming down the hall towards me. Oh Merlin. I tried to run the other way but he grabbed my arm before I could get around the corner. "You are coming with me. You still owe me kitchen duty!"

Worst…day…ever!

Viktor Krum
Viktor looked out the porthole of his Dark Arts classroom, just to get away from the lessons for one moment. The drone of the monotone Russian teacher made this class one of his most boring, even though he was technically the best at the Dark Arts. He wasn't half bad at the defense half either.

Outside, he saw what appeared to be the Marines practicing advanced Transfiguration in the deep snow. He had to admit that all of those American Academy students were very well trained, almost to the point of being as good as the Durmstrang students.

Something coming out of a lodge caught his eyes. The large, obnoxious teacher, Professor Plum, was pulling who looked to be Leigh Ann by the arm. She was bitterly pulling against him. He sat her down in front of what Viktor knew to be the kitchens. He used his wand to hit her over the head, turning her clothes into a kitchen wench's, making a large barrel of potatoes appear in front of her.

He must have magically bonded her to the chair because she couldn't get up. She took out a potato and started attacking it manually with a peeler. All of this in the 20 degree air, with a foot of snow.

Ivann, next to him, suddenly hit him over the head. "Viktor, I'm talking to you!"

He shook out of the trance that had revolved around Leigh Anna Marie. "I am sorry, Ivann. I cannot concentrate today."

Ivann looked out the window, then hit Viktor over the head. "Her again? Really, Viktor, she's already rejected you more than once!"

"I know, but she is someone I just cannot understand!"

His best friend grabbed his arm picked him up from his seat. "She's not in your league, or even above it! How low can you get, Viktor, really!"

Viktor glared at his best friend for a few moments before sighing and picking up his Arithmancy book. They were having that class out in the woods, and to get to it, he had to pass right by her. "She is in a league all her own."

"If she can't see that you're the best thing that could ever happen to her, then she doesn't deserve you."

Augh, but I want her! he thought bitterly, squeezing the book. At this point it was insulting and degrading. He and the rest of the class passed by the Marines training; some of the Durmstrang men started shouting to the few women who were working out with the men.

"Hey, Gogil, you're barking up the wrong skirt! She isn't your type!" Ivann called to Erik, who was desperately trying to flirt with the few girls.

"A man's got to try, right?" he asked back, still eyeing them with interest.

They were about to walk past Leigh Ann until he stepped on something. He bent down to pick it up, seeing that Leigh Ann's name was on the top. Her handwriting was slightly messy. Well, maybe more than 'slightly.' And he noticed that there was a large 'F' written in red up at the top. The Arithmancy thesis wasn't all that bad. Not good, but not bad, either.

Viktor had to suck up his courage before he walked up to her. She had finished half the tub of potatoes, though another one had popped up next to her and she got even more red in the face, using the peeler to stab the potato multiple times. He was almost afraid to give the paper back back.

"Leahn," he said hesitantly, wishing that he wasn't the cause of that little glare. He handed out the paper, worried that she was still angry about their last encounter. She'd never let him defend himself. She was always pushing him away.

She snatched the paper from him, blushing deeply. "Thank you."

"Vhat ees eet?" he asked with a horribly thick accent. Ivann was up ahead, waving at him to come along, but Viktor shooed his friend away. He knew the lesson they were on. He'd be fine.

She smirked in a belittling way. "It's an 'F.'"

"Vhat it means?"

"It means that I pretty much stink at Arithmancy. Do you mind, I'm tryin' to finish my punishment in peace."

He tilted his head in confusion. She was great at Transfiguration and Charms, what was wrong with her Arithmancy? And why was she in trouble when she should have been preparing for the Second Task in the next few days?

She sighed and sat down her potato peeler, rubbing her temples. "I got in trouble for talkin' back to a teacher. Any more questions? I need to get back to work!"

Since when did Leigh Ann get in trouble for talking back? It must have been that Plum man. "I oonderstand Arithmancy. I can heelp."

"I don't need help," she said quickly, not able to meet his eyes. "I-I can pass Arithmancy, it won't be hard. I just need to study more."

"Vhen?" he asked angrily, clutching his book a little too hard. "No time!"

"Well I'm sorry that you seem to have time to talk to me, then," she growled, finally looking at him. It was a glare, though. "I don't have time to have a study session. If you would like to know my schedule, after this I have Magical Politics, and then after that I have to go look for a rare herb that only appears when there is a blanket of snow on the ground and a full moon is in the air. Now, if you don't mind, I have potatoes to peel."

LLL

He was in the library with an Arithmancy book the next day, ready to help me. I felt like an ass. He glanced up at me as I walked by and his eyes flickered to the chair next to him. I looked around for any wandering eyes or cameras but saw nothing. He'd proven time and time again that he wasn't like McLaggen, he wasn't like the other men. He didn't have a reason to set up some kind of romantic photo-op to muck my name in the papers.

I sighed and sat down next to him, bookbag in hand. I grabbed out my Arithmancy notepad and pen and sat there diligently, raising my eyebrow to him. I could tell that he was holding back a smile.

Since his English wasn't that great, I noticed that he had a few things written out on a notepad. His handwriting was nice and, even though some of the words were misspelled, I felt grateful to him and ashamed of myself for how horrid I'd been.

He pointed to the first item on his list. It read: Do you know Divination? I nodded. He then pointed to the third item. And you understand calculus? I nodded again, wondering what Divination had anything to do with Arithmancy. He pointed to the fourth bullet point he'd made: Arithmancy is like Divination, but substitute the tools for numbers.

Strangely, I'd never thought about that. I'd done fine in Divination although I didn't have the sight. It was more memorizing what shapes the tea dregs could form and the star formations which I'd already learned in Astronomy. I'd only taken one semester of it because why would I need more of it? That's what I said about Arithmancy, too, and it was biting me in the ass.

"I'm great at math," I sighed, looking over my thesis and my homework and the study guide for the next test, "but I suck at this. Numbers have one meanin'. It's like computer code, it isn't magical. It serves a functional purpose and that's it."

"That is you probleem," he said simply, staring at me with a serious expression. I loved his deep chocolate eyes and it made me blush when I realized that I was staring right back at him. "Eet is more."

He was actually very, very intelligent. When he couldn't voice something in English he hunched down over a sheet of parchment and quilled it out in his pretty calligraphy. My handwriting looked like chicken scratch in comparison. He spent most of the afternoon through dinner helping me with my study guide and making Arithmancy look like counting rather than some complex paranormal activity.

"So you assign a number to each letter up to nine rather than eight," I thought out loud, copying his handwriting and adding my own understanding of what he'd just taught me. "That makes so much more sense than using the octal base! Why doesn't Lucas teach it this way?" He shrugged his shoulders and smirked that cute, tight-lipped smile at me. "What did you call it?"

"Decimal."

I ran a hand through my hair and stared down at the page as I leaned back. I hadn't felt so stress free in such a long time. Understanding one of the hardest classes I'd ever taken really lifted all of the weight from my shoulders. "It was that simple all along? God, Viktor, I could kiss you right now."

He froze next to me and I realized my mistake. When I looked at him I saw that he was stiff and there was a tick in his jaw, like he was angry.

"I'm sorry, that came out wrong." I reached out my hand and touched his. He acted like he'd pull it away but I was glad that he left it there. His hand was so much larger than mine that I had to reach a little further in order to squeeze his hand. It made my heart warm to be able to just touch him and not expect anything. "I've been such a...pardon my French, I've been such a bitch to you and I don't deserve your help or your friendship. But...I can try to be good enough to deserve it."

He grasped my hand and gently ran his thumb over my knuckles. It made me blush slightly. His hand engulfed mine and it was very warm and kind of intimate with the way he was looking at me. "Priyatel," he said, obviously something in Bulgarian. His low, husky voice did something to my insides. "Friend."