Chapter 5: Trapped

The strain between Cedric and Viktor's relationship reaches its climax.

The weather had turned for the worst by the time Cedric stepped out of the woods, an hour or two past noon. Yet by the dimness of his surroundings, it was difficult to say that it was actually daytime. Overhead, thick undulating clouds spanned from horizon to horizon, blurring the outlines of the mountains and melting them and the sky itself into a dome of murky grey. Chunks of heavy, wet snow pelted him, drenching him from head to toe. He was beginning to lose the feeling from his fingers and toes, and his teeth clattered from the chill.

More than once he was reminded of how bad an idea it was to fashion cloaks out of blankets and table linens. Piles and piles of cloth were tied around his neck like an oversized cape that made him look like a kid playing at being a superhero. When he set out shortly after noon to hunt, it made him warm. The sky was a bright blue then, with streaks of white and barely a somber cloud in sight. Back then, he could not help but feel a bit smug at his resourcefulness. But now he cursed it. Wet, it was heavy, and already twice he stepped on them, sending him sprawled deep in inches of snow.

The chill was seeping into his bones as he waded through frozen ground to the cabin. Everything was not in vain, though. He took consolation at the game that hung limply in his hand: a squirrel and a fox.

He stepped onto the ruined deck of the house and pushed the door open. His cloak landed with a wet slop against the floor as he untied it around his neck. The fire was high and warm in the fireplace, and in a few strides, he was kneeling in front of it, hands clasping each other as he breathed warm air between them.

Why is it quiet?

He had left the cabin to the sound of the slither of paper against paper as Viktor relentlessly flipped through the pages of the books that lay neatly stacked on the shelves. The books themselves rose in a pile on the desk, but Viktor was nowhere to be found.

His eyes darted around the cabin, ears prickling for any sound. Viktor was physically strong even without a wand.

Wand clutched, he whispered, "Homenum Revelio." A thud and a muffled "Ow!" came from upstairs.

Cedric slowly and quietly ascended the stairs. The second-story landing opened to a carpeted living room with a couch and a lot of throw pillows. To his left was a wide corridor that led to the bedrooms. He heard a shuffling in one of the rooms to his right, and carefully walked towards it with his wand raised.

"Step out, or I will stun you."

A silence followed. He grew more restless, then. What is he planning to do?

"I will not ask again, Krum. If you don't-"

The door clicked open and Viktor stepped out, a blanket draped over his shoulders. Sweat shone faintly on the nape of his neck, and Viktor himself was panting slightly. He was clutching at the sheet with one hand, obviously trying to hide his wound. Or something else?

"What were you doing in there?" Asked Cedric.

Viktor's unbandaged eye was half-shut in loathing veiled as disinterest. Face expressionless, his real emotions apparent with his clenched fist holding onto the sheet. He only stared at the end of Cedric's wand pointed squarely at his chest.

"What were you doing in there?" Cedric repeated, trying not to buckle under the piercing gaze of the other.

Viktor sighed, opened the door and took a step back. "See for yourself," he said, sounding almost bored.

The room was spacious, well-furnished and airy. It must have looked elegant and posh, yet the years had left the Victorian wallpaper peeling, the wood panelling rotting. Some of the windows were already broken, letting in the chilly gusts from outside.

A canopy hung above a huge bed frame in the middle of the room, its flimsy drapery tied around the poles. Its moth-eaten mattress, however, was leaning on a wall, a few feet away from its designated position.

Cabinets stood empty of their drawers, their contents upended and discarded in heaps all across the floor: vases and bowls, books and diaries, thin wooden sticks, porcelain cups and pieces of cloth. Even the desk at the foot of the bed had been dismantled.

Viktor had slipped quietly into the room.

"Did you do this?"

There was no response.

Cedric pointed his wand back again towards Viktor. He was beginning to lose his temper, and he was growing tired of the petty games the other was playing. Why would anyone act like this if they were innocent?

"What. Were. You. Doing. Here?" A couple of red sparks flew out of Cedric's wand.

Viktor gritted his teeth but answered. "Nothing. I vos bored and I wanted to explore the house. Is that a crime, Diggory?"

Cedric's eyes narrowed into slits. He waved his wand towards the blanket Viktor was huddling under. "What are you hiding underneath?"

"I am naked underneath this. Or do you want a peek?" He chided drily.

With a flick of his wrist, Cedric sent the blanket sliding off Viktor's shoulders. He had worn pants, Cedric saw, but his sweater was too frayed and torn to be able to bring any warmth. His chest, a map of purple and red bruises, glistened with sweat. Viktor looked indignant at the sudden intrusion, but stood his ground and silently scowled down at him. His hands were clenched tightly into fists; in his right, he held a piece of stick.

Cedric extended his palm and signalled for Viktor to hand over the piece of wood. At first, he thought it was a shard of a wand, but it was too smooth and straight to be a broken fragment of anything. A dark point was at one end, a soft, blunt stub at the other; too dull to be used as a weapon.

"What is this?" Cedric asked.

"It's…a quill. Except it does not need an ink."

Cedric's eyebrows rose incredulously, prompting Viktor to explain himself further. Momentarily forgetting the anger he felt, Viktor grabbed a discarded diary from the floor and tore a page, then handed it to him.

"You can write vid it. You don't need to dip it in ink. Try it. It's magical." He took a step forward, and Cedric hastily raised his wand again. The look of anger replaced itself back on Viktor's face.

"Why do you need this?"

"As a gift, from me to you. Your company has afforded me nothing but happiness and joy. So sweet and so gracious that I long to be away from it." He picked up the blanket from the floor and stormed out the door.

"We're not done, Viktor-" Cedric bumped face first into Viktor's back.

"Vot did I ever do to you to make you mistrust me so much?"

"What?"

"You're so certain in your judgment of me, but you don't even know me," said Viktor, his back still on him.

"I know enough to make me wary. And wise."

"Wisdom, is that vot you call it?"

Viktor turned then to face him, and in the older man's eyes, he saw something that roused his guilt. Pain.

"Has it ever occurred to you that I had as much cause to doubt you, back in that graveyard? Yet I chose to take you vid me. You vouldn't be standing here, Diggory, if I had only been wise."

Viktor limped down the stairs, leaving him to stand on his own in the dark hallway. The splinters of the broken stick dug into his palm, but his mind could not register the pain yet. He let the pieces fall through his fingers, then ran after Viktor.

"Take us back, then. Right now," he shouted. "Prove me wrong, once and for all." He took Viktor's wand out of his pocket and strode down the stairs. The older man had seated himself on the couch with a resigned, almost pouty look on his face.

Cedric thrust the opposite end of the wand towards him. "Take it and get us out of here. You're clearly well enough to be chucking drawers and lifting mattresses."

Viktor's gaze lingered on the wand for a long time, but he did not take it. "I can't."

"What do you mean you can't? You hate me so much it must feel good to be finally able to show me how wrong I am."

Viktor chuckled without humor. "For someone famous for being kind, you sure always seem to see the worst in people."

Blind faith and kindness are two very different things. He would have said it out loud, but he was growing tired of all the verbal sparring they were putting themselves in. The wand remained extended towards Viktor.

Still, he did not take it. "I cannot apparate out of here."

"What?"

"Ve are not in Scotland anymore. The Cup took us very far from Hogvarts."

"But you told me-"

"I lied."

Viktor said it in a whisper, but the words rang loudly enough in Cedric's ears.

Is this a trick?

Quickly pulling back his outstretched hand, he sat down the couch opposite and studied Viktor's face for any hint of mischief. "You apparated us here," he said testily.

"Yes. And I'm still trying to understand how that came to be. I did not lie to you when I said that I do not know this place." Cedric raised an eyebrow in disbelief and Viktor hastily added, "My guess is the Cup took us to England. And I think ve are still in England right now. Have you taken Apparation Classes?"

The question seemed so out of the blue that Cedric got distracted from his anger. He shook his head.

"There are physical limitations to apparition. From the graveyard, this place vos near enough to apparate to. And so we did. But travelling back to Hogsmeade means cross-country apparation, and that can be lethal."

The room felt colder and heavier, then, as if the roof had suddenly collapsed and crushed them both under a heavy slab of ice and snow. There was nothing but the sound of his heart ramming in his chest. He had to walk away and lean on the mantelpiece for support. The fire did nothing to warm his insides.

Viktor said, "But I have an idea. Just give me time-"

"Incarcerous." Strings of rope came spurting out of Cedric's wand and tied themselves around Viktor's wrists, ankles and thighs.

Viktor hissed sharply as the rope cut tight against his skin. He fell down sideways on the couch, twitching like a fish out of water. "Vot the hell, Diggory! Let me out of this, I am not a Death Eater!"

"Your lie makes it very difficult for me to believe that," he replied coolly, not turning to face Viktor, worried that his face might betray the look of panic rattling him.

They were trapped. He had exhausted all other options he could think of. Trekking in the snow will freeze them to death. Creating a portkey was far too complicated. Once he had even thought of attacking a muggle just so that the Ministry can send aurors to him, and then he'll explain his peculiar predicament and hope that they see the sense in it. It was too far-fetched, as even game was difficult to find in the forest. His faith he placed on Viktor and Viktor alone, for how else could he hope to go back to Hogwarts?

"You were so good at making me feel bad that I almost gave you your wand. Would you have erased my memory then?"

"But I did not take it vhen I could have," Viktor replied firmly. "I am not your enemy, Cedric. Just let me out of this then let's look for a way together."

"Why did you lie then?" he rounded on Viktor and resumed his seat. "You could have told me from the very beginning. And we even made a deal!" He said, his voice full of reproach.

He watched as Viktor fumbled with his words, and almost laughed when the older man said, "Just trust me." Viktor looked like he was going to say more, but decided against it.

"Do you even realize what your lie cost you?" He approached Viktor and with a harsh swipe removed the blanket draped over his shoulder, exposing the wound. It was not the same dull pink it was a day before. Now, it was more reddish, moist with what seemed like blood and water. "I don't have a powerful healing potion anymore, and you're still not fully healed. And you've been gallivanting and tossing things!"

He sighed, frustrated and confused. He was more convinced now that Viktor was not all he claimed to be, yet still unsure if being a Death Eater was one of those. Admittedly, the other had the chance to do worse things than obliviating his memories. And if Viktor was lying about being unable to apparate, he had more to suffer for staying here longer.

It makes absolutely no sense.

"Who are you, Viktor?"