Note: The Bulgarian conversation is translated by Google. I am very sorry if the translation is wrong and the update is damned short.
iv.
Fourth Year was when Viktor Krum approached you.
The tall, dark-eyed Bulgarian Seeker cautiously went towards the table that you were currently occupying while you were rolling the parchment that has your already finished History of Magic essay (Five feet long, to be submitted next week).
Oh.
No fangirls today, you noted.
"Здравей," he said in Bulgarian. (Zashto- Hello.)
"Защо, здравей и на теб." you said cautiously- and in basic Bulgarian, putting down the book you were reading, Le Mortes Magicke by Æthel Marrye Vermillion. (Zashto, zdraveĭ i na teb- Why, hello to you, too.)
"Мога ли да седна тук?" Viktor replied, smiling at you as he dropped his books- you frowned at that- gently in the table. (Moga li da sedna tuk?- Can I sit here?)
"Yeah, sure." you waved your wand to levitate a few thick tomes which was in a seat right across you. "There."
"Oh," he looked away, a hint of pink in his cheeks. "I'm Viktor. Viktor Krum, from Durmstrang."
You smiled.
(Nice accent, for a Seeker from the North. Quidditch does give a lot of benefits.)
"I'm Hermione Granger."
"Nice to meet you, Hermione." his voice tasted like Honeydukes' best chocolate as he said your name.
But what surprised you was when you shook his hand, he kissed your knuckles, his lips feather-light against your skin.
"Did anyone tell you that you're beautiful, Miss Granger?" he said, his voice echoing in your skin.
You blushed and looked at him shyly.
His eyes laughed at you in a gentle way.
Unknown to you two, a pair of angry grey eyes flashed menacingly in the library's candle lights, heavy, unveiled malice particularly directed to one Viktor Krum.
xxxx