Chapter 93 - Preparations
Upon returning from the Malfoys and sharing the latest bit of news, Ron instantly said exactly what had been milling through Harry's head for the past hour or so – after the initial shock of exams being dumped on him was over:
''Hermione will kill you for having the opportunity to take your O.W.L.s whereas she is denied that dream.''
''She can have my dreams,'' Harry scoffed. ''What in Merlin's name is Lucius even trying to accomplish with this?'' With a groan, he slumped down on the sofa. He couldn't decide whether it was a curse or a blessing that Voldemort hadn't returned home yet. On one hand, he'd love the opportunity to distract himself from the sudden onload of stress he'd received by talking about one of the million other topics that interested his partner. On the other, Harry wasn't entirely sure whether Voldemort would let him, having harped on and on about expecting good O.W.L. results when Harry was still in Hogwarts. This was one of those moments in which Harry wished he'd not picked an overbearing Dark Lord as a partner – a thought that lasted indeed no longer than a single annoyed moment before the teen felt bad for even thinking he could be together with anyone else.
With a grin that did not predict much good, his godfather slung an arm around Harry's shoulder. ''Pretty sure it is something along the lines of sucking up to your dear tutor, who happens to be his boss and likes throwing painful curses around.''
He skilfully ignored Sirius' jabs. Ever since his godfather had agreed to not actively try to put a wedge in their relationship, he'd taken the more passive approach of pointing out the Dark Lord's flaws wherever possible - as if Harry wasn't acutely aware of those – in a last vain hope that Harry might suddenly change his mind and seek happiness elsewhere.
''It could be a small part of it,'' the teen admitted a tad reluctantly. ''Though I doubt it's his main motivation. As strange as you may find this, the Malfoys seem to care a great deal about my education. Shortly after being taken in, Lucius wanted to have a whole discussion about my grades, methods to improve them and the like. Not that I took his advice very much to heart…'' Lucius' urging to focus only on the subjects he'd take his O.W.L.s in, putting both Necromancy and Healing on a backburner had not exactly worked out in third term. ''At least I don't have to take the exams alone,'' he said, trying to find a bright spot. Then, he side-eyed Ron. ''What about you?''
A short, startled laugh crushed Harry's already miniscule hopes. ''I could probably do a half-decent practical Charms or DADA exam, but that's it. I didn't study anything relevant since landing here. Heck, after all the warding Sir Crouch taught me recently, my mind is whirling with freaking Runes, not five years of transfiguration theory. I'm not taking exams as long as no-one is forcing me into it. You said yourself that you see little point in taking them right now and only will do so out of a sense of duty. Why would I? So that if we can ever go outside again, I can impress mum and dad with grades given by Death Eaters? That'll go over well, I'm sure.''
''Alright, alright,'' Harry agreed with a grumble.
''I'll help you with revision of course,'' Ron tried to cheer him up. ''If you need anyone to practise with. Or just to check whether you list all ticklish varieties of turnips without forgetting one.''
Ron's offer was indeed invaluable over the next few days, in which Harry got to do little else than burying his nose in familiar schoolbooks procured by Lucius. Only 'Dark Arts Defence – Basics for Beginners' lay ignored in a corner. The worthless theory book did not contain anything of value, so Harry was banking on the knowledge he'd gathered over the past years from both better books and better teachers. Apart from that one, Harry made sure to memorise all he could, having absolutely no idea which spells would be asked about in any given subject. It helped only marginally that the first week of exams covered most of the courses he liked, for while it eased some of the tension of not having enough time, it also meant he'd have to retain the knowledge of the more difficult subjects like Potions and History of Magic even longer.
Voldemort approved of Harry's newfound zealousness, which Harry silently called 'desperation' instead. Not that his partner was of much use in helping with exam prep. Besides being far too busy to spend hours patiently going over theory Harry only needed to memorise, Voldemort showed very little understanding for the amount of revision people needed who did not happen to have the same eidetic memory as he did. Sirius was on the opposite end of the spectrum, clearly not wanting Harry to truly study, bragging instead about knowing a hundred and one ways to cheat. When Harry made clear he had no interest in doing so, his godfather kept muttering about bad influences.
Without his best friend's support, Harry wasn't quite sure how he would have made it through the week if he were entirely honest. Yet despite Ron's best efforts in attempting to motivate him, something still lacked. Whenever Harry's brain felt like it was overheating and turning into putty from the sheer amount of cramming, his friend could only sympathetically shrug and tell him not to give up hope. It was a shame that Hermione wasn't here to miraculously sort the chaos with organised summaries and colourful notes. The more days passed, the more convinced Harry became that it was only due to her that he'd made it through Hogwarts by more than the skin of his teeth.
The Malfoys had not agreed to contact Hermione about the O. , which he'd asked about as soon as possible. His new family insisted that the lack of contact was for 'the girl's own safety', a very flimsy excuse considering their clear distaste for Muggle-borns. Harry had considered getting his partner involved, then had thought better of it when recalling Voldemort's open dislike for Hermione. He'd been the one to send her away, after all.
Of course, he wouldn't be Harry James Potter if he'd just lie down and roll over for the decisions of others. Through no small amount of trickery and bribery, he'd borrowed one of Draco's owls (should it have come as a surprise that his brother owned three? Probably not) last Wednesday morning after another shared breakfast at Malfoy Manor and sent it on its way to Bulgaria.
XxX
''Ninny? Vho's owl vas that?'' Viktor groggily asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. ''Lumos!''
Grimacing as light flooded the room, Hermione checked whether she'd properly closed the curtains again. Breathing easier when determining she had, she turned the envelope over in her hands. It was plain, without even an address or name scribbled on it. ''I don't know,'' she answered honestly, although a sinking feeling in her stomach told her that the writer could not be entirely unfamiliar. Only a handful of people would know her location after all. It couldn't have been meant for Viktor either: after she'd finally let the bird in that had noisily been tapping on the window, it had very clearly perched itself on her shoulder and stuck out its claw, leaving no mistake as to the addressee. ''I think- I think it might be from Ron. Or Harry.''
With a rustling of sheets, Viktor hopped out of bed, now fully awake. ''Are they vell?''
''I'll probably know after getting a chance to read it,'' she chuckled, slapping him with the envelope. He could be so impatient sometimes.
They both held still when hearing a different noise, a creaking on the other side of the house. Had they been so loud? Had the owl woken up Viktor's parents? Cursing under her breath, Hermione gave her boyfriend a quick peck on the lips. ''I'll tell you what I can in the morning,'' she promised. ''Don't want you to get in trouble.''
Without any further ado, she made sure to slip out quickly and hurried to the guest room next door as silently as possible, holding in a giggle when practically jumping into bed and drawing the covers over herself. Not a few seconds later, the door opened with a squeak, likely Viktor's mother peering in to check whether she was in her own bed. She didn't make a habit of sneaking into Viktor's bed – in fact, she only dared after waking from nightmares and today had been merely the third time in the past weeks, but of course this night an owl had to peck on the old, rattling glass panes… It was a shame that they couldn't live in Viktor's apartment, but hiding another person in a rental with a nosy landlord was much more difficult than his family-owned house, so he'd temporarily moved back in with his parents for her.
Needing to know what had almost caused them to get caught in the indecent act of sleeping in the same bed, she impatiently waited a few minutes until sure everyone was asleep again, then turned on the oil lamp on the nightstand and withdrew the letter, which was clearly written in Harrys familiar scrawl.
Dear 'M,
we know we're not supposed to be writing – life-threatening danger and all that. We'd never have survived your wrath withholding this news though: there's a chance to take the O.W.L.s despite all the madness going on right now. Or rather, I have to take them, R doesn't feel like it and you maybe could? I'd likely owe at least three people favours for the following decade but am willing to take that risk. All that happened was my fault and I know that having to break off our education was probably the hardest blow for you. In case you're interested, we've attached the schedule.
Awaiting your answer soon. – like, seriously soon, Charms theory is on Monday and we don't even quite know yet how to get you back to our side of the continent. Don't worry about it though, we'll figure something out if you say yes.
Take care,
two thirds of a trio.
Speechless, Hermione read the short letter over time and time again, a whole lot of conflicting feelings welling up. It was a testimony of self-control that she first attempted to grasp the full meaning of Harry's letter before even casting a glance at the mentioned schedule, which did not look like she'd expected. Theory on weekdays and practical exams on weekends revealed that Harry wasn't returning to Hogwarts for this. That begged the question who'd be administering the exams or how official any of this was. Not that it took away from the mixture of excitement and nerves this news caused. The timing was impossible – It was currently 3am on Friday, and if they were first waiting for her reply, she couldn't expect to leave before Sunday morning. Earliest.
Not that there was really much of a choice to make. This was a chance at normalcy, of redeeming herself by showing that she had not wasted all those years trying to get on top of her class. To learn as much as humanly possible. It may only count for her own peace of mind, or for Harry to ease his feeling of owing her something, but now the opportunity had been presented on a silver platter, Hermione needed to take it.
Turning back to the letter for a last read-through, her stomach coiled at seeing the heartfelt signature. Two thirds… Even without being offered this chance, the wish to see them again burned strongly, to discuss all she'd learned while away. Yet, the harsh words from the Dark Lord still held her in their grasp.
'Leave mypartner out of this for as long as you cannot find sincerity.'
'He deserves better. He will receive better'
She had done her utmost to become better after finally understanding what had been meant. Would it be enough? Was anything ever enough? The bookshelves filled to the brim with every tome on dark magic that Viktor had enthusiastically brought her over the past month said one thing, her doubt – in herself most of all - another.
Unsurprisingly, sleep did not come anymore that night, and she excused herself from breakfast as soon as possible the following morning, earning odd looks from Mr and Mrs Krum, especially when Viktor got the hint and hurried after her. ''And?'' he tensely asked, a frown marring his brow.
How she wished to honour Viktor's sincere trust. To tell him everything. For the thousandth time, Hermione needed to dance around the details, hating herself for each omission, each twisted word. That he didn't think less of her for it made it so much worse. ''It was from Harry and Ron. They're inviting me back. For a fortnight to be exact. I can't tell you where exactly, or what for, or whom else I'll be meeting,'' she confessed in one single rush of words.
If this irritated him, Viktor didn't show it, nodding slowly. ''They should visit here first,'' he announced then, startling her.
''Ah- I don't think-''
''Ninny,'' he spoke in that same low tone. ''I need to make sure this is no trap. If your friends want you to return after you vent so far as to hide all the vay out here, they need to make a trip first so I can know you will be safely escorted to England. I vent to great lengths to assure my parents' silence. Telling them now that you can hop back and forth vill not go over vell. Please give me some peace of mind in return.''
''I will ask,'' she agreed. With how patient her boyfriend had been, this was the least she could do. ''If they can't though- I'll still leave,'' she warned, then. ''I have to.''
Viktor did not answer vocally this time, hugging her so tight that her face was pressed in the hollow of his throat. It was minutes later that he released her. ''I saw that owl still sitting in our garden earlier. I'll go fetch it.'' That appeared to be the last thing he had to say about it, striding away with a pace that was a tad stiffer than usual.
XxX
Dear 2/3rd
For mortal danger lurking around the corner, you should really work on your code.
I lean to saying yes, on the condition that further details are discussed face-to-face here. I also happen to need a personal ride home. This entire weekend, the house will be empty apart from the best dancer at the Yule Ball.
Awaiting your answer excitedly.
1/3rd
Both relieved and nervous about the given reply that had arrived in the very early hours of Sunday morning, Harry and Ron exchanged smiles, sleep forgotten. ''Seems like we're heading to Bulgaria today then. Somehow. I at least have the address, that's a good start, isn't it? And an invisibility cloak.'' It was less than a shred of a plan, but hey, optimism was worth a shot sometimes. Maybe they should have thought this through before receiving Hermione's reply instead of leaving plans to last-minute improvisation as usual. ''Any ideas how to get there within the next-'' he checked the time, which did nothing for his nerves, ''-seventeen hours? Would like to get a good night's rest before tomorrow's exam if possible.''
''Since we neither have brooms nor Polyjuice with which we could reach a fireplace connected to the Floo… That leaves err, Portkeys or Side-along apparition with an adult? We could ask Sir Crouch to create a Portkey, I've seen him make some before.''
''Last time I used a one made by Barty, I ended up almost getting speared by a random tree as the aim had been off, and that was to a location right across the Channel, not a country at the edge of Eastern Europe. But you're absolutely right about a Portkey being our best bet.'' He was silent for a while, mulling with displeasure over what that meant. He'd hoped for his partner to find out when it was too late, not beg for his aid in orchestrating this with the very real possibility of being thwarted hanging over his head. With time running out however, the truth could not be denied: ''So far, Voldemort is the only person I know of who can make accurate international Portkeys. It wouldn't do to get arrested because we landed two streets away from our intended destination. It's a shame that the Trace would be picked up if I tried to apparate us anywhere. Makes it kind of a useless skill to have right now.'' Besides, the only person he knew of who could apparate across such distances was also Voldemort. A Portkey would be better suited, as he didn't think it would be a smart idea for his partner to barge into Viktor's house as well.
''Still can't get over the fact that you actually learned how to apparate already. Can you side-apparate too? Or go long distances?''
''I did not have the opportunity to try out either. So far, I've only apparated within this dimension, a few rooms at most,'' Harry admitted. ''For that alone, it wouldn't be an option, as this is not the right moment to test my limits. If you're interested in learning how to apparate, ask Barty, he's the one who taught me. Admittedly, the only reason why I managed was because of already having done so accidentally when I was like six years old. Remembering how that felt was what gave me enough of a push to get over my insecurities.''
''Maybe I will ask. Could be used as a bit of a break between learning all I can about defensive magic.''
Speaking of breaks, his own had already been long enough. As Voldemort had not come home tonight at all, Harry only expected him around breakfast. With the thought of sleep out of the window after Hermione's message, he unwillingly pulled his transfiguration textbook closer and leafed through the stack of chapter summaries he'd attempted to create last evening. He hadn't quite succeeded in whittling the book down to its essentials, as some 'summaries' had ended up being longer than the actual chapters whenever Harry felt it necessary to add clarifications in order to memorise the why and how better, or thought of Voldemort's lectures with vital additional information.
Only when his back was aching and Ron had nodded off again, lying on one sleeve that was slowly being covered in drool, did a drift of familiar magic at last bring a valid reason to pause. By the time Voldemort walked through the door, it was pleasantly caressing his skin.
''Hey,'' he smiled, taking off his glasses for a moment to rub his tired eyes. ''You were gone for long.'' With legs that prickled all over with pins and needles, the teen stood, content to stumble into his partner's arms and nestle there for a moment. His gaze already rested on pale lips he'd been aching to claim since their last separation.
Before he could follow up on it, Voldemort made an announcement that greatly dropped his mood:
''Dumbledore has taken the Locket.''
The air of calm that Harry had attempted to wrap himself in was wiped away, leaving him vulnerable. All thoughts of alleviating his stress by seducing the Dark Lord unfortunately postponed, he asked: ''This soon?'' A hint of panic seeped into his tone. It was too soon, wasn't it? Ron and Sirius hadn't moved to their new place yet, the exams would start tomorrow and he'd just invited Hermione to join them… The last thing Harry needed was for Professor Dumbledore to show up on their doorstep. With Voldemort's idea to actually guide the old man to their house (not into their dimension, but still far too close to Harry's liking), he could not justify having anyone here who might be endangered by it.
The other did not appear as worried as Harry was, casually removing his outer robe and draping it across the back of his designated chair at the head of the dining table Harry had been studying at. He threw a small, disdainful look at Ron as another snore cut through the air. Taking a seat and summoning both the pot of coffee that was mostly empty now and the cup Harry had been using, he spoke: ''We knew it could be any day now. Severus could not pretend to brew an antidote any longer. Do keep your thoughts straight and don't lose confidence: this was merely his first step, one of two finite conditions. Without the locket, he could not move the way he wanted, yet neither can he without being certain of where to go.''
It all sounded a bit like a game of chess to Harry. He wasn't very fond of chess with living people, ever since a slightly more literal game like that had landed Ron in the hospital wing. Unconcerned, his partner heated up the coffee until steam rose from the cup, placing his lips on the exact same spot Harry's had been earlier, taking a sip. ''Dumbledore thinks he knows me… I shall play into the image he has created of me, keeping Severus at an arm's length until he's proven his loyalty enough. I'll only allow my follower to reveal our location at a time that suits us. It's not hard to believe that a Death Eater whom I've supposedly taken back into my ranks so late due to suspecting him to be a spy would not be permitted to instantly know of either my regular residence or where I keep my prisoners. The Carrows have been at Hogwarts for only a fortnight… I instructed Severus to feed the old fool false information on how they are watching him, testing him to ensure he truly belongs at my side.''
Something about it still didn't sit well with Harry. ''From your perspective, I can see how holding him off is a good plan. It's disconcerting to see Dumbledore so passive though. I know, I know, he does not believe you will kill me. But he was willing to torture Nagini mere days after capturing her, surely he must consider that you won't be gentle in your quest to figure out why I survived that night. Or how long you'd see value in keeping Ron and Hermione alive. Would he truly not hurry to find other solutions instead of waiting for Snape to get the needed intel, now he has his hands on the Locket with which he wants to make this trade?'' He could really not see the Weasleys sitting idly by with Ron in possibly lethal danger either. What if they knocked on Dumbledore's door every single day to pressure the old man? Mrs Weasley could be terrifying.
This concern too, did nothing to throw Voldemort off balance. ''As much as Dumbledore puts up an emotional front – regardless of how much he may actually feel emotional about it, he is also pragmatic. For all his flaws, the old man is certainly not known for rushing into battle. He waited months to show you memories after having gathered them just so he could create what appeared to him as the 'perfect moment'. Severus' will deliver the information he needs in time. Searching for other sources just to make haste could lead to unreliable accounts, Dumbledore knows this and rather trusts those already in his grasp. Aware that his hands are tied, I'm certain that he is putting futile speculations off his mind and concentrating on what lies before him. Do remember, this is also the first time he thinks to have an actual functional Horcrux at his hands to study since Nagini escaped. With the way I enchanted the substitute locket, it will take far longer to realise it does not hold my soul than he has time. It is bound to keep his mind occupied while we prepare out trap.''
This logical explanation did not influence the way Harry felt about it. The simmering betrayal and hurt. Meanwhile, he was acutely aware of how few of his own schemes had ever worked out as intended. It left little room for the absolute confidence Voldemort had.
The other bristled when noticing Harry's whirling insecurities. ''I've dealt with the fool for much longer than you've been alive. I'd appreciate some trust in my ability to unweave his patterns,'' Voldemort spoke, narrowing his eyes so only a slit of red was visible. ''Do you not believe in me, darling?''
Such an unfair question. Of course Harry believed. In his own way – a way very distinct from how those who'd been branded with a snake and a skull bent their own will to please their Lord – Harry worshipped this man and all he stood for. It was his own self-doubt that was rearing its head now, the coil of worry in the pit of his stomach not meant as an affront to his lover's skills.
''It's difficult to imagine all going to plan whenever I'm involved,'' he candidly admitted.
''Ah, your insistence at improvisation being key plays a role in this, I imagine?''
''You know me too well,'' Harry answered, a breathless chuckle slipping past his lips. He became astoundingly aware of his partner's gaze when Voldemort shifted all attention to him, no longer distracted by either stray thoughts or fatigue. The cup was set down on its saucer with a soft 'clink'.
''Indeed I do. Which brings us to why you have so far not asked me about Granger.''
Harry stiffened at the sudden change of subject, an accusation hanging in the air somewhere. ''I was just getting to that,'' he replied, knowing it was useless to deny a thing when all means of reaching Hermione lay in Harry's ability to convince his partner to pave the way with his outmatched ability to bend even space to his whims. ''How long have you known that I wrote her?''
Voldemort shook his head briefly. ''That would be the wrong question to ask. I have known that you would wish to write her ever since hearing about the O.W.L.s. It was a simple matter to find out when you did, then. Your only way of communication would have been through owl. After Lucius and Narcissa refused your request to formally invite Granger – which my loyal subject naturally informed me about – only Draco, Barty or Black could have provided you with an owl on such short notice. Barty would have asked me first and Black could not have brought you one without my right hand finding out. That left Draco, who very much wishes to remain in my good graces.''
''Little rat,'' Harry mumbled, although without any venom. What should his brother have done when asked a direct question by the Dark Lord? Lie in Voldemort's face and ruin his own future to keep a petty secret that would have come out sooner rather than later? ''You could have just asked me about it, would have saved me from having to dance around it for days,'' he grumbled.
''I grew fond of the stumbling way you dance.''
Voldemort was wearing an absolutely infuriating, lazy smirk that made Harry wish to jump and strangle it out of him. The arrogant air that wafted off his lover was just- just-
The snarl building up in the back of his throat was muffled when Voldemort leaned forward to catch his wrist and pulled Harry into his lap, effectively silencing any further complaints with a dazzling kiss. Pouring his frustration into it, Harry's right hand slid to the back of Voldemort's head to hold them locked in place, fervently promising himself not to let go until he'd be breathless enough not to care about his partner's comment. Voldemort's tendency to teasingly pull away at the last moment was not going to happen this time. Nails that carded through his black strands gripped painfully tight in response, leaving Harry gasping.
Both stilled, the open invitation clear the moment it was offered. To avoid crossing boundaries again, which had backfired more than once, Harry waited, tightly balling all of his patience together as his parted lips rested against Voldemort's. Even their most intense kisses, the ones that had left cascades of stars flowing in his veins for hours - had been chaste in the strictest sense. Apart from infrequent quick kisses on the tip of his tongue or a sharp bite to make Harry retreat, their locking lips had been a far cry from the snogging some couples openly displayed in the Gryffindor common room.
Another snore interrupted the moment, and the tightness of Harry's grip turned out to be an illusion when his partner easily broke it. Not that he could gather his wits to protest. A nauseous second later, they were alone in their bedroom, Harry finding himself firmly pressed against the door, pinned in place by naught but a single hand that angled his chin so he was forced to look up into Voldemort's hungry stare.
The Dark Lord did not move apart from an occasional flexing of the fingers that held Harry's jaw, but the teen could feel the tension growing, his partner testing both of their patience. Pure magic manifested and trailed his skin where Voldemort himself would not. ''Do you need me to beg for it?'' Harry rasped, getting far too frustrated after a minute of only being scrutinized while Voldemort's magic grew heavier with each breath. The fingers loosened and slid lower, closing around his throat instead.
''Would your pride allow for it?''
The way the whisper dripped with desire made it difficult to keep thinking straight. ''If it gets me what I want, maybe,'' he offered. ''Would it?''
''You want so much, my dear. Far too much.''
Harry made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat. One would think that wishing to be stripped naked by the man he'd pledged eternity to wouldn't be too much to ask. ''I'll be humble today,'' he shot back with a grin. ''Just a kiss. A good one.''
A thin eyebrow arched mockingly. ''Is that a daring suggestion that they've been lacking previously?''
''In one aspect,'' he retorted, not about to grovel and fan Voldemort's ego even more. ''If you want to prove all of your skill, then-''
Finishing the argument was both impossible and unnecessary. Harry hardly noticed the painful way his head was slammed back against the wood of the door as Voldemort let go of the careful control he'd employed before. Dry lips met his once again, accompanied by a familiar rush of magic wherever their skin touched – his face was aflame, his throat burned, and Harry desperately wrapped his arms around the other, hanging on for dear life. A wholly different heat suddenly rushed downward when Voldemort shifted their weight, wrapped an arm tightly around Harry's waist and used the distraction to at last plunder Harry's mouth in full.
Any semblance of coherent thought evaporated as he came apart, unable to concentrate on anything but the demanding kiss, gasping for air whenever allowed while Voldemort plunged his tongue in again and again, ever deeper as if he were trying to claim Harry's throat this way as a substitute of what was to follow. He groaned loudly, pulling the both of them tighter, delighted when Voldemort for once did not stop, merely slowing down to more thoroughly lick every inch of the offered mouth until Harry felt his jaw go numb. It recovered minimally when the kiss broke and Voldemort attacked the side of his neck instead, biting and sucking until the skin pulsated as much as his painful erection did, trapped as it was in his robes. Lips locked together again and Harry tried to reciprocate to the best of his inexperienced abilities, attempting to imitate the movements he enjoyed most, scraping his teeth across the surface of the invading tongue and pushing back. A sharp tugging surprised him, and Harry harshly sucked back in response. When Voldemort released a guttural moan, a moment of clarity made him repeat the motion, starting to swallow as much of his partner's tongue as possible until choking.
It was hard to tell the passing of time, wrapped up as they were in each other's pleasure. At some point, his hands found bare skin where silk robes had loosened as a result of their passionate movements, and they both only realised after their lips reluctantly separated once again that Voldemort's knee was pressed firmly in between Harry's parted, quivering thighs. The feel of heady, dizzy laziness that was prone to follow quiet nights alone in his dorm with the curtains shut tight should really not have come as a surprise, although it was certainly embarrassing. Merlin, had Voldemort noticed…?
~You're a dangerous thing.~ Puffs of cold breath eased the series of painful spots on his neck and shoulder. The older man closed his eyes and inhaled a shuddering breath. ~Your smell…~
Harry wisely stayed silent, very much trying to fight the urge to close his eyes and drift off to sleep. With a hint of shame, he withdrew his hands, even though he'd have loved to explore Voldemort's skin more thoroughly. At least he now understood why his partner had been as reluctant to kiss him this way as he had been about any other intimate contact. Had both their reactions been predicted? Had Voldemort's been the same as his own? Their link had melded together to a point where he couldn't be sure anymore. Hands balled into fists to avoid doing something stupid when the mere thought engulfed his mind.
''Why did you indulge this time?'' he asked instead, refusing to meet Voldemort's eyes. At least until he'd be able to clean up his own mess – in the futile hope the other hadn't noticed to what extent Harry had been affected exactly. ''You made very clear before that... well.'' He cleared his throat. It didn't help that Voldemort hadn't moved his leg away, which was sadly remedied a moment later.
''We discussed hard boundaries'' the other replied, taking a step back to readjust his robes. It was admirable how quickly he recovered and clad himself in a dignified air. With a few practised tugs at the fabric, he managed to look just as regal as before, no evidence left to suggest he'd been caught up in devouring Harry minutes before. ''Until our last talk about it, you did not quite show to agree with my wishes, claiming waiting did not matter. Always trying to get closer and convince me to abandon my stance on it. You'd have gladly let me take you a multitude of times had I not put a stop to it, so I wanted to ensure you would not get ideas in your head again. Over the past weeks, you have at last shown the maturity and understanding I have been needing to see. Had you responded by expecting more than a kiss, I'd have refused you altogether.''
He'd still gotten far more than he'd bargained for, but Harry could see where his partner was coming from. Even in the delirium of their interweaving minds and magic, Harry was rather sure he'd have stopped Voldemort if it had gone much further. Surprisingly. The strength - or desire – to do so had previously been lacking.
''So, this was not an attempt to completely distract me from the topic we brought up before?'' he asked, trying not to sound accusing.
''I doubt I'd have been able to keep you occupied for a whole day like this – unfortunately, so no.'' He sat at the edge of the bed, crossing his legs and leaning back on his hands while unabashedly looking Harry over as the teen tried to mend the mess he was in best as possible without being too obvious about just how soiled he was, focusing on wiping the sweat off his brow. ''You invited Granger to return, against anyone's wished but your own. It's not unexpected, and I do not entirely disagree.''
Although Harry would really have wanted to quickly slip into the bathroom to clean up instead of resuming their talk like this, the comment threw him off enough to stay. ''You don't? I was under the impression that you would be against Hermione and I talking again.''
''That is not mutually exclusive. Also, I was against her continued influence before she left, stuck in righteousness about good and evil. It'll be interesting to see whether her beliefs will have shifted during the past month. Agreeing to invite her here is also not exactly about her acquiring the O.W.L.s in this case, but a simple matter of weighing advantages. Granger is the kind of person who would keep up enough with the study material that she could take these exams without having to repeat a year the instant the charges against her will be dropped, be that in three or thirty years. Instead, it is about owing favours and gaining a positive image. She will make more of an effort to listen to you now she knows that even across distance, she is in your thoughts. In extension, she will have to show some amount of civility and deference in order to get what she wants. It had to come from you, however. Had I instructed the Malfoys to write her or invited her personally, she would have seen it as either a trap or restrictive enough not to consider the offer. That you clearly did it without my knowledge – which Weasley will confirm – also goes to show that unlike her previous assumption, I do not control you.''
''Or so you say, while explaining how I did everything according to your wishes in the end,'' Harry sighed, exasperated.
''I am trying for some honesty, here,'' Voldemort chided calmly. ''It would have been easy to keep up the pretence and make you give me a thousand promises in return for allowing my followers to grade her tests when she shows up. You were prepared to be indebted to me, were you not? I am sparing you that effort.''
Letting go of the lingering resentment he felt for having been tricked was hard regardless. Harry tried to concentrate on the fact that in the end, they apparently both got what they wanted. ''She did insist on speaking to me, first,'' Harry declared, deciding to put his foot down about this.
''I'll come along, in that case,'' his partner instantly said with thinly veiled belligerence, tone not leaving room for arguments. That tone had stopped working on Harry a while ago.
''No,'' he refused. ''You already cut our time short before without telling me. I hardly got to discuss everything in private with Hermione as I wanted. As I believe she wanted too. I have made clear before that you cannot dictate whom I speak to. Even beside the fact that Viktor would freak out over either you showing up there as yourself or as a member of the press he's refused to talk to before, it's not necessary.'' Harry was clearly hitting nerves, ruby eye spitting fire at the dismissal. ''It's not that I would not want you to be there, generally'' he clarified, because Harry got the feeling that this anger was once again rooted in the infuriating necessity to hide as much as possible. ''I'm not going to ignore you for the sake of Hermione's feelings about our relationship, whether she changed her mind or not. This is about needing to see where she and I stand after all that has happened. Please, it'd hate for that to break us apart in any way.''
''As if Granger could break us apart,'' Voldemort scoffed, rising to his feet. The tension between them broke. ''You're being ridiculous again. Go wash up, I have a Portkey to prepare.''
Feeling a bit lighter and allowing himself to finally analyse that kiss in peace, Harry fled to the bathroom to take care of his problem – the daydreams creating a second problem to deal with before he dared emerge again. When flinging the door open again though, scrubbed clean and having tamed his hair as much as humanly possible, his partner was leaning against the opposite wall, looking as if he'd never left. ''Already done?'' Harry stammered.
Voldemort hummed. ''I'm not a novice. You only needed a single two-way Portkey. More importantly, did you have a good, long shower?'' he asked, taking a step towards Harry, hands gripping his shoulders possessively.
Curious what had brought this on – and not deeming the question worth an answer, since his partner clearly had noticed just how much he'd affected Harry – he allowed Voldemort to steer him towards the balcony at the end of the corridor. Leaning against the balustrade to bask in the warm sun, he asked: ''I thought you'd wait for me downstairs. Is something wrong?''
''Both Barty and Black just arrived. I'd hoped for a quieter spot to talk, that is all. I would like a moment more of your time now we are both home. I do appreciate seeing how seriously you are tackling this new task at hand, yet it has severely cut into your availability recently. There's been something I've been wishing to inquire your thoughts on: the recent nature of our shared dreams.''
Propping an elbow on the balustrade, Harry stared into the bright garden below. It was true that despite sleeping together most nights, their typical dreams had been few and far between. Instead, they'd ended up dreaming of each other's memories far more often than being aware. The first time they'd experienced this phenomenon, after the Ostara Ball in Malfoy Manor, it had been a novelty Harry had welcomed due to its intensity. Now, he admitted these were not his favourite type of dreams. '' ''The way it changed? I don't mind it too much,'' he settled on saying. ''I dislike that it takes shared time away, but on the other hand, we do have the ability to see each other during the day as well. I thus hadn't thought much of it. Have you figured out what causes it?''
''Our link is influenced by physical closeness,'' Voldemort explained. ''Not only our emotions get tangled occasionally.'' To make a point, he grabbed Harry's free hand, causing an instant buzzing as their magic tried to wrap around the other's. At the same time, the man's feelings echoed even clearer in Harry's mind than before. He was… disgruntled. ''Knowing the cause has not yet led me to find a solution. I much preferred when I could speak to you at night as well.''
''Why, are you missing me otherwise, even when I'm lying in your arms?'' Harry grinned, pleased when receiving a glare in return.
''You clearly need more education than you have hours in a day for, that is all,'' Voldemort bit back.
It was a very obvious lie, which widened Harry's grin further. ''You can't use that excuse anymore if I get good grades in the upcoming exams. Although I have to admit that I wouldn't mind if our dreams would be shared as before again. If you find a way and need my cooperation, don't worry about me putting up a fight against it. Dreaming of your past is less interesting than talking to you.''
''Good. I'll have a look in various libraries to research possible solutions. It will have to wait until Dumbledore is out of the picture, however. On top of my other duties, keeping an eye on his movements and preparing to keep a step ahead with our plans is taking a significant amount of my time.''
''How far are you along?'' They'd discussed parts of Voldemort's plan thoroughly, yet there'd also been a few details in which his partner had been frustratingly vague.
''Both the house and the dimensional wards have been prepared. I will merely need to activate the spells shortly before allowing Severus to relay my location. As for our guests, the second bubble dimension will be finished four days from now, so they can relocate and not cause any interference during our negotiation with Dumbledore. Apart from preparations here, I've bypassed the wards of his future retirement home and will use the coming week to ready a comfortable spot, from which I can regularly harvest enough hair for Polyjuice. I'm still lacking a definite candidate to act the part. My first choice is Bartemius, as he both has the experience to successfully pose as an enemy for a prolonged period of time and has been around the old fool long enough to believably mimic him. However, my right hand has many other duties, so if there's the possibility of using another, that'd be preferable.''
''I'm not volunteering,''
Voldemort grimaced, looking disgusted at the idea of Harry posing as the old Headmaster. ''I wasn't asking. It would be crime towards humanity to have you change into any other body.''
''A crime against you, you mean.''
''High treason,'' his partner affirmed, amused. Cold fingers were already travelling their way up Harry's spine again and brushing against the back of his neck, where the hairs raised at the icy touch. ''It would be treason as well to deny me another kiss before you leave.''
Harry considered doing just that, if only to see to what lengths Voldemort would go to get what he desired, but the thought of a repetition from earlier was too tempting to risk losing with a bluff. ''I wouldn't want to commit a crime now, would I, my Lord?''
The animalistic growl he got in return told him it had been the right decision.
They didn't even leave the balcony.
''Harry!''
Still disorientated from the Portkey that had just transported him to the other side of Europe, the teen took a moment to steady himself. Having been so thoroughly devoured that a second shower had been in order did not help in grappling for balance.
He'd landed in a small hallway, with a staircase to the right and a singular door to the left, through which Hermione rushed towards him. Harry wasted no time in hugging her tightly.
''Missed you,'' he muttered into a face full of dark, bushy hair.
''I you too,'' she replied, sounding a bit choked up. ''Where's Ron?''
''Impatiently waiting for your arrival at home. He wanted to join me, of course, but a certain someone said there was 'no need' for a whole entourage.''
She faltered. ''He knows, then?'' As she took a step back and regarded him, her eyes hushed over Harry's neck, unruly hair not long enough to fully cover the fresh bruises left by sharp teeth. Maybe he should have applied a healing spell before coming here… A tinge of pink coloured Hermione's cheeks when she pointedly looked strictly at his face again.
''I had to let him know, he's the only one who could get me here on such short notice. And although it was technically Lucius who organised my being able to take my O.W.L.s, all examiners are Vol-'' he caught himself just in time, unsure whether Viktor was within hearing range, ''-my partner's acquaintances. Had he not agreed and instructed them instead to not let you partake in the exams, it would have been for naught. I told him about me inviting you earlier today. He was less surprised than I had thought he would be.'' Less mad too, going by the amount of snogging he'd received, which he did not voice aloud.
''So these are really… mock-exams, then, in a way?'' she asked, sounding a tad disappointed.
''Well, no,'' he clarified. ''As a member of the Hogwarts Board of Governors, Lucius got his hands on copies of the actual Ministry-approved tests. Due to tight schedules and to not give us an advantage by communicating with people within Hogwarts, which Draco will surely do, the practical exams will be adapted a bit but still test us in similar spells as the Ministry examiners would have.''
''The tests themselves being valid does not mean they'll be recognised though, does it? The Ministry decides on that and well… The only reason we haven't bene expelled from Hogwarts is because they don't know where we are. Surely, Fudge isn't going to give green light to grade tests mysteriously signed under our names.''
Harry chuckled at the idea of Fudge's stunned face when handed an exam signed by the burglars he was having his Aurors searching the country for. ''I know, we committed multiple felonies directly against the current Ministry and did more damage than any of us could pay off in a lifetime. The thing is, the charges on us being erased is tied directly to the government being toppled, or at least restructured in a way that people we know are technically on top. For any academic achievements to be recognised, we can neither be on the run anymore, nor in prison. This all comes down to the only one being able to have us pardoned being my partner, once he takes charge. Since he has agreed to recognise the results of these exams, these tests will be approved As soon as we are not considered criminals anymore, basically. Two birds in one stone. So you see, that's why it doesn't matter that we aren't taking them at Hogwarts. They will still considered 'real' O. . All of the examiners are also current teachers at Hogwarts,'' he added, not sure if that would make it more appealing.
''Truly? I didn't know he had multiple of his followers stationed in Hogwarts'' she asked, eyebrows rising to her hairline. ''I only knew about Professor Snape.''
''Him and the two newest staff additions. One replaced Umbridge as Defence teacher – apparently the curse won't have time to set in with only a few weeks being left, and the other took over from Binns. My partner decided that after several generations of students snoring through his lectures, it was time to finally sack him, so Snape took care of that with the support of the School Board.''
Hermione considered his words, while finally leading him further into the house. While by no means small, it was still not as gigantic as he'd expected, considering it was the home of an international star Quidditch player. Maybe Harry had gotten too used to lavish mansions and manors. ''Are you hungry?'' his friend asked. ''I haven't had the chance to eat yet myself.''
He was about to decline the offer to be given any food or drink, hoping to get back to England as soon as possible, when his rumbling stomach reminded Harry that he hadn't actually had breakfast either, only a small snack in between studying. With a knowing smile, Hermione went into the open kitchen and returned with a tray of strangely shaped fried dough and jam. ''Here, I came to love this over the past weeks. Mekitsas,'' she explained as they sat down on a quilt-covered seating space built into the window alcove.
''Will Viktor not be joining us?''
''He is reading in the garden,'' she explained ''Wanted to give us some privacy. He knows… enough not to ask too many questions,'' Hermione said, the corners of her lips tilting down. ''I am starting to understand why you left us none the wiser for so long. Seeing Viktor both happy to have me here while also concerned for my well-being is heart-breaking when I know that I can't – I can't tell him anything. Not without risking him getting pulled into such a mess…'' She pressed her lips together, concentrating on smearing jam on the dough for far too long. ''I lasted two days,'' she ground out at last, releasing a humourless chuckle. ''Two days before I felt the incessant need to get away from the lies I spun around myself to keep him safe. A useless feeling, as I had nowhere else to go. No-one else to talk to. I don't know how you did it.''
''Having been followed by deadly violence and looming fate for three years prior kept me very aware of how much there was at stake,'' he nonchalantly stated. ''And I wasn't wrong either. The moment you guys got involved meant the end.''
''It's not that dramatic,'' she countered, leaning over to stomp his arm. ''We would have had to leave Hogwarts one way or the other. With how it played out, at least we know for sure that Umbridge had no chance to return… and that none of us landed in Azkaban is a significant plus.'' He didn't respond, not entirely sure how to react to Hermione's attempt at having one of their regular talks as if nothing had changed. It was easy with Ron, who'd attempted to take everything in stride best he could from the moment he'd waken up to Voldemort's face. Hermione had instead been suspicious, thrown accusations – reactions for which Harry didn't blame her since he'd expected much worse, but his friend distancing himself still hurt when shown in such stark contrast to the acceptance he received from Ron.
''I'm sorry that we didn't really get to talk everything over before you had to leave,'' he said, still unsure where they stood now. ''A lot happened since you left too. O.W.L.s aside, I hope we can also use the time to just… talk. There's one thing I need to get out of the way first though.'' He gave her a critical look. ''You told him he doesn't deserve me? Really?''
She winced slightly, but when meeting his eyes, only a displeased frown was visible, not even the slightest bit of the guilt he'd been hoping for. ''Did he tell you the circumstances in which I told him that?'' she asked. ''Or was that conveniently left out?''
For the first time since Voldemort had relayed her words, the anger he felt about it faltered. ''What do you mean?''
''He woke me in the night, only to assault my mind. Ripped at my memories, fished all my thoughts out with what felt like white-hot hooks. It was much worse than Umbridge's blood quill Harry, and you threw her to the wolves for what she did.''
He clenched his right hand, even though he had never suffered detentions for long enough after receiving his new arm that it had scarred again. ''How would you know?'' he dully asked. ''You never pissed off Umbridge so much that she used it on you. How would you compare the two?''
Legilimency by Voldemort felt horrid, but the splitting headache that lasted a few minutes at most did not hold a candle to hours and hours of being forced to carve into his own skin for Umbridge's sick pleasure at seeing him hurt.
''How would you?'' she demanded to now. ''If he never-'' she broke off, a look of horror dawning on her. ''He used that on you as well?''
Bewildered, he replied: ''We weren't always this close, 'Mione. We considered each other enemies for years. We weren't even technically friends since after last Christmas. Voldemort didn't own a Pensieve until very recently and doesn't trust verbal accounts to be told accurately. He used Legilimency on lots of people, especially those he doesn't trust.''
''But you can block it, can't you? Snape taught you Occlumency-''
''I can block it now I no longer need to, very helpful indeed,'' he scoffed. Then, both irritation and resentment faded when confronted with just how worried she was for him now. ''I'm sorry he used it on you. It was neither right to invade your privacy, nor for him to hurt you through it. I doubt it was meant as a personal attack to punish you rather than get your view on everything that happened, but that doesn't make it right. However, neither were your words to him after. You don't know anything about our relationship, you can't assume whether he's good enough for me or not. That is my decision.''
With what clearly was a tremendous amount of effort, Hermione replied: ''I made assumptions, based on whom I thought he was. I couldn't wrap my head around you falling for him of all people. Until a few weeks ago, I never thought he existed as more than the shadow of a threat. You seem to forget that we didn't all have two years of contact with the literal Dark Lord who resurrected from the realm of the dead.''
''He wasn't in the realm of the dead,'' Harry corrected. ''His spirit didn't leave this plane, that was how he could regain a body in the first place.''
She only lightly shook her head at his words. ''Be that as it may, I was scared out of my mind when he appeared in the Ministry… and instantly left a corpse behind. I'm grateful that he healed Ron of course, and that we were kept out of prison due to the shelter he gave, but I still can't quite understand how he and you- well.'' She made an aggravated gesture. ''How two people with such vastly different ideals ended up on the same side, let alone ended up together.''
''I told you all that happened,'' Harry frowned. ''As best I could.''
''None of it was very satisfactory in explaining the why, only the how.''
''And that is why you can't trust me anymore,'' he concluded softly, a truth he'd not wanted to see revealing itself. ''Why you don't consider us friends anymore.'' She hadn't told him in so many words, but he could see it in the wariness with which she had regarded him, the tilt of her tone that she used when addressing him, one she usually had reserved for Slytherins who'd been unpleasant to them for years.
''You did break my trust,'' she affirmed softly. ''But I have done and said things to you that friends shouldn't either. Being sorry for it doesn't change that. I do want you to be my friend, Harry. Again. Still. More so than when I left England. I've made efforts to understand where you're coming from, if that makes it any better. To understand dark magic and all it entails as well, which Viktor enthusiastically helped me with. I've done little else than discuss new books I've read with him. Surely this does not come as a shock to you as you're the one who made this point in the first place, but there are so many books available here that are outright banned from being sold in Britain…''
''I'd say 'I told you so buuuuut-''
She finally laughed openly. ''That's my line, you can't steal my favourite line from me!''
''I stole the heart of a Dark Lord, little else I can't now,'' he grinned back. ''So... are we… okay?''
I took a while to receive an answer again, and it wasn't what he wanted to hear, ''I don't know yet,'' she confessed with a returned note of sadness. ''I feel like I understand you better now. Why you decided that following him was a good choice to make. Yet I'm still very uncomfortable by the fact that you can see past all the committed atrocities. All his crimes, for the sake of love. He is vicious.''
As if Harry didn't know that. It was such a typical comment that Harry didn't know why he'd always worried more about Ron's black-and-white views than Hermione's.
''Yep, that is one of his prevalent character traits,'' he agreed. At her stunned look, Harry couldn't help but wish that he could use Legilimency, to burn all the sides of Voldemort he'd uncovered in her mind's eye without having to painstakingly explain that human beings were three-dimensional. ''Does it surprise you that I do not have an apology ready to defend my rosy view?'' he challenged. ''He did not enchant me to make me love him, Hermione. I'm very aware of his cruelty, of the reality that I want to spend my life with a man who craves the blood of other people on his hands. I'm simply refusing to reduce him to only that, not when I also have come to know how deeply he cares. Not after everything he's given me. Acceptance, freedom, a connection beyond my wildest imagination.''
''And you still think you can change him,'' she dully spoke.
''It depends,'' Harry confessed. ''If someone has two destructive behaviours to deal with a situation, is it really change if that person is pushed to only use the lesser of the two? I'll never be able to stop him from killing people, I will have to live with that. But the target? The method? That I can guide him in when he opens up to me in advance.''
''I'd be inclined to warn you about how that's a dangerous path to walk, but danger only ever encourages you, doesn't it?'' Hermione scoffed. ''I'm worried about you. For your health and safety. That is my main concern when it comes to whom you chose to get involved with. Although…'' her expression changed into a slightly comical grimace. ''I have to admit that I'd never in a million years had expected to witness you casually discuss poetry and history with the Dark Lord. I'm really very grateful that you are giving me a chance to be in your life again, and considering that he did indeed show to care for you, I'll hold back on being... how did you put it? Judgy.''
''I appreciate that.'' It meant a lot, coming from Hermione, and he was determined to show that most of her worries were unfounded. ''So, is there anything specific you still want to ask about the O.W.L.s? Or would you like to get some news updates?''
As it turned out, Hermione had been quite cut off in this corner of the world, at least regarding what was happening in West-Europe. For obvious reasons, Viktor's parents were only subscribed to the Bulgarian national newspaper, which hardly covered each detail of internal affairs or scandals of different Ministries. Suddenly subscribing to other papers after years for Hermione's sake could have come across as suspicious, so she'd had very little information of the going-ons in Britain. The only pieces of relevant news that had made it over here had been the break-in at the Department of Mysteries with Fudge's questionable response to it, the appearance of the Minister's Undersecretary registering as a were-wolf and a surge of scandalous stories about the treatment of Squibs, in what appeared to be a direct response to Fleur's campaign in the newspapers she ran. Harry tried to fill in the gaps and give details wherever possible, including Sirius' recent contact with Professor Lupin and – most importantly – what Dumbledore had been up to.
The confirmation of Harry's fears, which Hermione had attempted to sweep under the rug before, made her grow quiet. Apparently seeing a memory of Dumbledore's confession to Snape was finally enough to make her realise that Harry's fears did not only stem from a baseless paranoia induced by Voldemort's words alone. He'd still been afraid that the old Headmaster wishing to save her and Ron from the Dark Lord's clutches might weigh heavily enough to keep defending Dumbledore's actions, but Hermione did no such thing. Instead, she abruptly rose to her feet.
''I'll fetch my bags. There's plenty of study to be done still, we can't waste all day talking. Could you call Viktor for me? Don't worry about going outside, the backyard has privacy wards all over it.'' Just as he was about to do so, his friend hesitated and turned around instead of marching out, hugging him tightly once more. ''I'm sorry,'' she whispered. ''For all your burdens. For not taking you seriously. For not being enough.''
''Mione, it's okay,'' he tried to reassure her, but she only shook her head and ran off upstairs. Sighing deeply when hit with heavily conflicting feelings, he went to get Viktor, whom he was rather glad to see after all this time. About a year had passed since their goodbye.
Viktor hadn't changed a bit in that year, shaking Harry's hand with brusque friendliness. ''Good to see you safe. You lot got into quite a mess. Can't complain too much about having Ninny around all the time now, but it pains me to see her so scared about being discovered all the time,'' he spoke, straight to the point.
''I wish it were different too. About the scaredness, I mean. I'm pretty much in the same situation. Glad to be around people I love, but it sucks that I can't step outside without risking arrest.'' According to Hermione, she'd only told Viktor the very basic truths about having to hide from the Ministry after illegally breaking in to stop Umbridge. Nonetheless, Harry thought it would be good to inform her boyfriend of one more fact: ''Some people with good intentions think we're being held captive against our will and are insisting on saving us. They have no idea 'Mione is out here, but keep an eye out just in case, okay? I told her about it already, but it's probably good if you know about it as well. Of course, she'll be completely safe with us in the coming two weeks,'' he hastened to add when Viktor's expression fell. ''But afterwards, when she returns here, you should maybe up the security level.''
''I'll inform my parents to add some measures if ve can,'' Viktor agreed. Then, he looked Harry over. ''You haven't been keeping up vith Quidditch training, have you?'' he bluntly observed. Why did Viktor even notice? Hadn't he been too busy looking at Hermione during fourth year to notice any changes in physique on Harry? Or was it that obvious?
''Didn't really have the chance,'' he defended, a tad self-conscious. ''Due to toxic attitudes and far too many responsibilities to handle all at once, I had to quit the team last year, and right now I don't even have a broom. I had to leave mine at Hogwarts when fleeing.''
''That's no good,'' the other replied, shaking his head. ''There are more ways to keep in shape than flying, Harry. Form vat I heard, you vould be good enough to make it professionally if you vanted to. As a Seeker, you've got to keep that agility to always have an edge.''
''Getting in shape was just a side-effect of flying for me though,'' Harry shrugged it off. ''And Quidditch only offered me a way to fly regularly. So. without a broom, it's kind of a moot point for me.''
Viktor gave him another critical look. ''Hmm… maybe… vait here.'' They hadn't even made it back to the house before the older teen jogged off again, then went into a shed at the edge of the property. A few minutes later, he emerged with a broom in hand, mounting it to cross the way back within only seconds. It was still miraculous to Harry how much Viktor's stance changed from being on the ground to being in the air – even if only hovering a few feet above the grass, he suddenly changed into the epitome of poise and grace. When Krum jumped off, he held out the handle to Harry, who almost did a double-take when seeing the label on the sleek wood.
''A Nimbus 2000,'' he breathed in awe.
''Heard it was your first,'' Viktor grinned. ''I hav a bit of a bad habit of collecting too many brooms. I've got two of this model and vouldn't mind lending it to you for the time being. Of course, I'll club you in the head vith it if you don't bring Ninny back safely exactly two weeks from now.''
How exactly Viktor would accomplish that half a continent away was left to the imagination, but as Harry had no intentions of forcing Hermione to stay in Britain, he only beamed at the other and thanked him profoundly. ''I'll treasure it,'' he promised. ''And bring it back well-cared for. I'll make sure to get my hands on another broom-polishing kit.''
''Do that. I'd still like to fly against you one day.''
''Challenge accepted.''
Amicably and – on Harry's side – brimming with excitement, they both headed inside, where Hermione was already waiting impatiently. It had clearly hit in full that the O.W.L.s would start tomorrow, for she had a charms book in one hand and a quill in the other. ''I just realised how little time is left,'' she spoke with her usual amount of distress on days before tests. ''Vicky, tell your parents I'm sorry for breaking up so suddenly. If possible, I'll get them a gift to make up for it.'' She gave her boyfriend a brief kiss, which did not wipe the frown from his face.
''Be careful,'' he stressed. ''I love you.''
''I love you too,'' she beamed. ''I'll be fine. Back in no time.''
While happy for them, the easy exchange of love declarations that came so naturally to the couple sent a strange stinging through Harry's heart. Envy, he noted with discomfort.
Angry at himself for feeling this way but failing not to, Harry tried to not have the goodbyes be drawn out too long. ''Grab a hold of this,'' he told Hermione, holding out the quill that Voldemort had enchanted into a two-way Portkey. He'd thought to suggest simply using his glasses for the way back, but his partner had wished to leave the house soon after having something to eat to meet with a few of his followers. Stumbling into a Death Eater meeting or the like with Hermione wouldn't exactly go over well for either side. At least it gave them a bit more time before she would be confronted with Voldemort again. Harry just hoped his friend would keep her word about not being so judgemental and that Voldemort kept his anger in check.
If so, they might all survive these exams relatively unscathed.
AN: These two just can't keep their wandering hand off each other, can they? 😉 Next chapter, we'll finally get to the O.W.L.s, plus maybe see a bit of what Voldemort has been up to.
Viktor's nickname 'Ninny' comes from when he couldn't pronounce her name and botched it up as Hermy-own-ninny 😉 I thought it sounded cute.
Btw, I beg you guys for some suspension of disbelief when it comes to the letter exchanges ^^'' In reality, it would have taken an owl 60 hours or 2,5 days of non-stop flight for a one-way trip from Riddle manor to Viktor's house, but I simply do not have that time lol, so I made it like a 1,5 to 2 day trip one way instead. (Canonically, owls are crazy fast too though. At the start of GoF, Hedwig flew back AND forth to Sirius' hiding spot 'somewhere in the tropics' within 11 days, which would also only be possible when flying non-stop at top speed.)
Please read and review!
xx GeMerope.