Hermione was floating on air. People kept approaching her and telling her how beautiful she looked and how lucky she was to be with Viktor Krum, how they didn't even recognize her. And Viktor was such a gentleman. He was happy to share her attention with her friends, Harry and Draco both claiming dances themselves while he sipped his punch and watched, talking with Susan or Parvati and Padma. Poor Parv looked miserable, as Ron was an abysmal date.
When Neville approached, bashful Neville who had bloomed over the summer into a handsome young man, Hermione told Ron he should dance with his sister.
"Sod off," said the grumpy boy.
Ginny rolled her eyes and sat beside Harry instead.
"Er, Hermione?" Neville's voice wavered and almost cracked. "Would you, er, maybe like to dance? If it's alright?" He added the last hurriedly as he glanced over at Viktor.
"Of course. Do you mind, Viktor? Neville is a friend," she said.
Viktor, who had seemed tense since he returned with their first drinks, but was slowly settling back into himself, nodded. So Hermione placed one of her hands in Neville's much larger one and he led her onto the floor.
His other hand was the lightest touch at her waist. "You really look beautiful tonight, Hermione," he whispered. Then his eyes widened. "Not that- I mean, you're always pretty. Just, tonight, everyone can see it." He was steadfastly not looking at her face, color high on his cheeks.
"Thank you, Neville," she murmured. He spun her deftly and, when his hand returned to her waist, it was a little more firm. As the song ended, she leaned up to hug him. "You're a wonderful dancer."
A soft cough sounded beside them and she and Neville jumped apart as though they'd been caught doing something. A sly half quirk was on Professor Riddle's lips. He was beyond handsome in his black dress robes, emerald tie, silver vest. Hermione swallowed and returned his smile, cheeks flushing. "May I cut in, Mr. Longbottom? Miss Granger promised me a dance before my chaperone shift ends."
She had done no such thing, but did not gain say him as Neville politely excused himself and Professor Riddle's long, tapered fingers wrapped around her own. He pulled her in closer to how Viktor had held her, a far cry from Neville's careful distance, and the other hand was just a touch lower than her waist, curling around the soft curve of her hip, thumb against the top of the bone through her gown. This was the closest she had ever been to him and his scent encircled her so she became heady with it. Clean, sweetly spiced like cinnamon, something earthy like sandalwood underneath it all.
"You're all the buzz in the castle now, Hermione," he said after a short silence before the song kicked up.
She shrugged as best she could while in his arms, the hand on his bicep a fluttering thing. "It's all the makeup and the dress," she insisted.
The hand at her side left suddenly, her skin there oddly cool. The professor turned her chin toward him, curling along her jaw. Once she met his eyes, it returned to its previous place. "Nonsense. They've all just been blind. You've become a pretty young woman."
Hermione's heart was pounding her throat and she was sure he could see it. His dark eyes bored into hers and she suddenly realized they were blue. The darkest, deepest sapphire of the Mediterranean at night. She'd seen the sea somewhere, though she could not remember ever having been to Greece or Rome or Egypt. Her red lips parted to deny the compliment, but Professor Riddle swept in again first.
"You're as beautiful as you are brilliant, sweetheart, just accept it." There was something both sibilant and commanding to the words, and she nodded, blinking to pull herself out of the haze of his scent and his drowning eyes. The smile returned to his face, his teeth flashing white in his face. The rest of their dance passed with his unyielding hands on her, guiding her effortlessly. When it ended, he swept into a bow over her hand, lips just brushing the back of it to skirt propriety, jolting her core. "Thank you for the dance, Hermione."
She stood on the floor alone, watching him walk away, until a touch at her elbow pulled her back into the present. Viktor stared curiously don at her. "Are you alright, Her-me-own-ee?"
"Yes," she said unsteadily. "I just got a touch lightheaded from all the spinning. I didn't expect Professor Riddle to ask." Her date nodded and escorted her back to their table so she could sip her drink and gain her footing once more. Then they danced again, a bit more closely than before, Viktor's thumb stroking her side through the thin material of her gown.
Between songs, he hesitated to take her hand again and instead studied her face. "Her-me-own-ee," he hesitated. "Vould you care to go into the gardens?"
With Viktor's gentlemanly attention and the aftermath of Professor Riddle's unexpected touch, she nodded. Outside the Entrance Hall was an enchanting rose garden, with pockets of shadow away from the fairies lighting up the world around them.
Viktor's fingers twined with her own, pulling her into his side. "Headmaster Karkarov is unhappy with me," he said at last.
"What?" Surprise flitted across her expression. Viktor was clearly a favorite of the brooding man. "Why?"
They halted after a turn around a fountain and she could see him waffling indecisively. "He- he does not like that you are muggleborn." At the the hurt flickering across her eyes, he said hurriedly, "I do not care, Her-me-own-ee." Viktor took both of her hands in his and drew her from the main path. "You are beautiful and good and smart." The back of his knuckles skimmed across her cheek. "I vould very much like to take you out to Hogsmeade the next time ve are able. And perhaps find time to see one another around the castle?"
At the rise in his voice, she nodded. "Yes," she murmured. It felt so wonderful to know this boy, this man really, liked her regardless of her blood status. He didn't just want her on his arm for the night, but genuinely desired her company and admired her. They had not gotten to talk nearly enough, and she relished the idea of a date in Hogsmeade away from his exciteable fans. His hand cupped her jaw and she saw his eyes lingering on her lips after she'd said the word, then darting back to meet her own gaze curiously.
Hermione slid closer, laying her free hand on his shoulder, and he took the invitation slowly, so she had ample time to pull away. As his gaze was firmly fixed on her lips and her eyes fluttered shut, it was no real surprise when his warm mouth planted over hers. His lips were gentle at first, and the masculine scent of his aftershave permeated the air. When her hand stroked up to the soft grain of his short hair, Viktor tugged her body against his and his tongue swept against the seam of her lips. She parted them with uncertainty, then made a little sound as his tongue stroked hers.
The world around them swam away in the sweet press of his mouth and warm touches on his waist, her hips, her neck, never deviating to a place of danger, but delicious all the same.
The rest of the holiday break passed in a whirl and soon the second task was upon them.
While Viktor made sure to spend time with her, the lead up to the day found him tired. It didn't help that Ron had been an utter prat the entire time and was now steadily refusing to speak to her, saying she was a traitor and if she wanted to show her true colors, she should just go and snog 'Vicky.'
Draco, who had more reason than the redhead to be loyal to Cedric, worked with Harry to act as a buffer between the two. "Really, Weasel, she's still cheering Ced on. How is she a traitor?"
Ron blazed crimson and muttered something under his breath that Hermione was sure wasn't flattering to anyone.
"Yeah, Ron," Harry piped in. "Besides, didn't you ask Fleur Delacour to be your date?"
"What?" Hermione had yet to hear the story of how her friend, besotted by the beauty of the Beauxbaton Champion, had dreamily strode up to Fleur and mangled words together so badly it wasn't even clear exactly what he was asking. Harry regaled her while she and Draco practically fell out of their seats from laughter.
Thus was the time between the Yule Ball and the Second Task probably the best she'd had in her fifteen year life.