Viktor

On Monday morning, Viktor and his classmates started their day with a similar routine to the one they had back in Norway.

Every morning, they were to get up and run. After their run, they had an early breakfast on the ship. Viktor wondered how Karkaroff convinced Dumbledore to allow his students an early breakfast given the wizard seemed to enjoy having meals with the students.

Their classes were much the same as back home. The only exception was dueling, which now took place in an empty room in the castle. Their dueling professor Hansen had insisted that they needed a sizeable space to practice dueling with their staffs.

For the first class of their last year, Professor Hansen had them practice offensive spells.

Staff dueling was Viktor's least favorite class.

With a sigh, he trudged towards the dueling arena, his staff slung over his shoulder. The arena was already bustling with activity, students pairing up and practicing their spells. Viktor spotted his partner, a lanky boy named Ivan, and rolled his eyes. Ivan was no better at dueling than he was, and their sessions usually ended in a flurry of misfired spells and bruised egos.

As they approached their designated dueling area, Professor Hansen's booming voice echoed across the arena. "Remember, gentlemen," he instructed, "Staff dueling emphasizes physicality, agility, and close-quarters combat. The staff serves as an extension of your body."

Despite Viktor's nod, he knew all too well that he would never excel on land. He raised his staff, feeling its weight in his hands. Ivan mimicked his stance.

"On my mark," Hansen said, raising his wand. "Three... two... one..."

With a flick of his wand, Hansen started the duel. Viktor and Ivan lunged at each other, their staffs clashing in a shower of sparks. Viktor tried to remember Hansen's instructions, but his awkward foot placement threw him off balance. His spells sailed wide, and Ivan's jabs landed with increasing frequency.

Viktor gritted his teeth and focused on his stance, adjusting his feet and grip on his staff.

Fuck being agile.

He didn't and probably would never be agile on land, but something he had was brute strength.

Ivan swung his staff and hit Viktor on the shins, causing him to stumble. The lanky teen saw his chance and went to strike Viktor's stomach.

Viktor rolled but still got hit with the tip of Ivan's staff.

As Ivan lunged, Viktor met his attack with a resounding clash of staffs. The air crackled with energy as their magical forces collided, sending ripples of power through the arena.

With a grunt, Viktor pushed back, his strength overwhelming Ivan's. He sent Ivan stumbling backward, creating an opening for a swift strike. He unleashed a powerful spell, a bolt of crimson energy that rocketed toward Ivan. Ivan attempted to deflect it, but his hastily cast shield proved no match for Viktor's concentrated power.

The spell struck Ivan squarely in the chest, sending him crashing backward. He groaned, his staff clattering to the ground.

Ivan ran and snatched his staff from the ground and retaliated with a flurry of spells.

Viktor brought his staff parallel with his arm, bringing forward a hasty shield.

His opponent delivered a series of rapid but incarnate spells and jabs.

Viktor growled in frustration. He tried to side-step, but he was too slow. Ivan hit him square in the ribs with a spell that was meant for his legs.

The boy looked exhausted. He tried to launch another set of attacks but only sent out weak spells.

But Ivan, despite his lack of raw power, possessed an agility that Viktor could only envy. He evaded Viktor's follow-up attack, his staff twirling like a blur in his hands. He landed a series of quick jabs, each blow stinging Viktor's arms and disrupting his concentration.

Viktor growled in frustration. He needed to turn this around, to use his strength to his advantage. He studied Ivan's movements, searching for a pattern, a weakness to exploit.

As Ivan launched another flurry of attacks, Viktor saw his opportunity. Ivan's movements, while quick, were predictable. He anticipated the next jab, stepping aside and using Ivan's momentum against him. Ivan stumbled forward, his staff momentarily out of position.

Viktor seized the moment, lashing out with a powerful sweep. Ivan tried to deflect it, but his reaction was a split-second too late. The staff struck him squarely in the side, sending him skidding across the arena.

"All right, that's enough!" Barked Hansen in Norwegian. "Krum. Kowalski. You two still duel like shit." The professor sighed in irritation. "Krum, you can't only rely on brute strength. You have to dodge and move quickly. If you had dueled someone with some resemblance of accuracy, you would have lost. And you, Kowalski, you can't let your opponent shove you around the area like a rag doll."

After everyone got their feedback, Hansen dismissed them.

On their way to the ship, they spotted a group of girls huddled together in a corner, their hushed whispers punctuated by bursts of muffled giggles. As Viktor drew closer, their giggles grew louder, morphing into a chorus of high-pitched squeals.

Viktor's eyebrows furrowed in annoyance.

One day.

He had one day of peace before the group of screaming banshees ruined his peace.

"That was fast." Commented Oleg as he tapped his wand to his ear.

Viktor turned away, pretending not to notice the screaming fans.

"Smile and wave, boys." Vlad winked at the girls. "It's going to be quite the year, isn't it, Vik?"

His lips formed a tight line, and his face contorted into a deeper scowl.

He took long strides toward the ship. The sooner he was there, the sooner he could get rid of the screaming.

Dinner had been a calmer event. He looked at Dumbledore and thanked the wizard for his presence in calming the banshees. Now that he sat down, Viktor realized that the only difference instead of a group of witches screaming was hundreds of eyes looking at him and failing to whisper.

He just had to eat, and then he could leave. Thirty minutes and he would be back in his cabin, in the blissful quiet.

All he could hear from the snake's table was their excitement at playing Quidditch with him. But then again, it wasn't just the snakes, the birds, the beaver and the lions all did the same thing.

All except one.

Viktor looked at the lion's table and lo-and-behold, everyone was looking at him. The annoying redheads and what Viktor assumed were their other siblings gawked at him. The younger redhead boy met his eyes and for a second he thought he would faint with the face he made. He choked on his food and quickly grabbed a cup of what Viktor assumed was pumpkin juice.

Why was it that out of the hundreds of stares, she was the only one not looking at him?

The cubs stared at Viktor with high brows.

The redhead boy pointed his food-filled fork at the seeker and said something that Viktor was sure was his name.

Miss Granger turned around, her curls bouncing on her head. She rolled her eyes at the redhead and pushed his hand down. She said something to him, which caused the boy to shake his head at her in disagreement.

When she finally turned to look at Viktor, all she did was give him a small weak smile and immediately got back to her conversation with Potter and an awkward-looking boy who slouched over the table, as if that would make him smaller.

"I do believe she is defending you again, brother." Alexei mocked.

"Again?" asked Vlad.

"Oh, yes." Alexei had a wicked grin. "You see, Miss Grain-in-ger, came to my brother's defense yesterday."

Vlad hummed and looked at the witch in question. "Little lion is quite interesting, isn't she?"

"She bought us candy." Commented Oleg as he was about to eat a chunk of meat.

Vlad laughed, causing the surrounding students and, therefore, Karkaroff to gawk at him. "She's very unexpected."

"She is. It's nice." Though his face still had the same angry look as always, the softness in his voice turned his brother's and his friend's heads.

After finishing his food, Viktor made his way to the ship.

Tuesday and Wednesday mornings had gone much like Monday, except the Great Hall was buzzing with excitement more than the previous nights.

Wednesday was the start of the new classes.

He shouldn't have been as thrilled to take Runecrafting. Professor Sigurd was a pain in the arse to work with. But this was a great opportunity to work with other students. If his memory served him right, all the Hogwarts students taking the class were crows.

A few minutes before the end of dinner, everyone looked at him expectantly. It seemed that if they stared at him long enough, he would lead them to the Quidditch pitch.

Dumbledore got up from his seat and wished everyone good luck in their classes. He reminded the students that this was a wonderful opportunity to build everlasting ties and foster friendships. Viktor and almost all the Durmstrang students snickered at the sentiment. He couldn't fathom Karkaroff telling them to make friends, but then again, everything about Hogwarts was different.

The Hogwarts students messily got up and rushed to the doors. The lions seemed to be the most boisterous out of the four houses, while the snakes reminded Viktor more of home.

Viktor sighed as the weight of eyes from outside the Hall bore into him.

The witches from Beauxbatons floated out of the room like rehearsed ballerinas.

Viktor, Oleg, and Vladimir took the head of the group and they marched out of the Great Hall.

As they were walking to their designated classes, hushed whispers turned into gasps of surprise when Viktor made his way to one of the towers on the north side of the castle.

He caught sight of a bunch of brown curls rushing excitedly up the damned moving stairs.

Her steps were light and purposeful as she sauntered to their class. He couldn't help the smile that ghosted his lips as he watched her. He doubted anyone had ever been excited to see Sigurd.

He then remembered the way the wizard had looked at her, and he scowled. He couldn't identify what that predatory look was.

The rune crafting classroom boasted a spacious layout with tall, arched windows casting a soft daylight glow on the worn, oak-paneled walls. The class was smaller than Viktor would have thought.

Four tables with four chairs sat in the middle of the room. Empty shelves adorned the walls, while a towering blackboard at the front displayed runic symbols.

The blue Hogwarts students occupied two of the four tables and the Beauxbatons.

Out of the corner of his eye, Viktor saw Miss Granger standing in the corner. Her gaze shifted between the occupied tables to the empty ones. She sighed and dropped her things on the table.

Should he sit by her? Would she think that he's stalking her?

He looked over at his fellow Durmstrang students and saw their faces flash with a predatory interest. Before he knew it, his feet carried him to stand next to the table.

"I sit here?"

Her eyes connected with his, and she smiled so candidly that his heart almost skipped a beat.

"Yes! Please!" She ushered to the seat next to her.

As he sat down, Alexei and Oleg, unsurprisingly, joined him.

Before they could exchange greetings, Professor Sigurd marched in. He introduced the course and his expectations. He explained that the class was primarily going to be completed in groups.

Viktor lost interest in the old wizard as he continued to talk. Instead, he focused on the way his skin hummed. He looked at an ecstatic Miss Granger. Her eyes twinkled like stars and the humming in his skin urged him to touch her.

For the first time in his life, Viktor wondered what he looked like in someone's eyes.

That thought alone impelled him back to reality. Uncertainty crawled into his skin, weaving its web of doubt and fear.

His jaw clenched so tightly that his teeth audibly scraped against one another. This wasn't him. This wasn't the wizard he knew himself to be. He had never allowed the opinion of a witch to rile him so, to consume his thoughts and actions.

It was the bond, that insidious tether linking him to her. It was a venomous vine, slowly wrapping around him, constricting his sense of self. He felt like a puppet, his actions dictated by the whims and emotions of magic.

Rage burned in his chest, hotter and brighter with each passing second. He had been weak; he had allowed himself to be swayed. His responsibilities, once his sole focus, had faded into the background, replaced by an obsession with the witch and the bond.

And he hated it. He loathed the dependence, the weakness, the loss of control. He had to break free, to reclaim his life. He was here for the tournament and to keep an eye on Karkaroff.

His eyes narrowed into slits, the realization of his negligence igniting a spark of irritability within him. With a deep breath, he drew himself upright, his spine straightening like a steel rod. He focused on the ground beneath his feet, feeling the solidity of the earth re-anchor him in the present moment.

He channeled his magic, a potent stream of energy flowing from his core. He aimed it at the tether and visualized it hardening into an icy sculpture. Yet, the tether remained unyielding, mockingly flexible defiance against his will.

Frustration gnawed at him. He poured more magic into the attempt, pushing his limits, but the tether merely shimmered, its form unwavering.

He dared to peek at the witch next to him again, and again he found her eyes shining like the moon.

He reminded himself that maybe the moon is beautiful because it's far, a loveliness wizards should not venture to.

Hermione

Hermione had always taken pride in her concentration skills, which at the moment were nowhere in sight. She gripped her quill harder, willing her brain to focus. It felt like there was a myriad of tiny butterflies dancing across her flesh, making it nearly impossible to concentrate on what the professor was saying.

A part of her brain, the annoying part, screamed at her to look at the slouching Bulgarian next to her.

But she'll be damned if she lost.

She managed not to look at him for half of the class. At some point, much to her dismay, her treacherous eyes glimpsed at the muscular seeker next to her. After losing the battle with the strange pull, her gaze settled on Krum's nose with its crooked ridge. If she had to guess, it probably got its shape from one too many bludgers to the face. Her eyes followed his long, dark lashes. Why did boys always have the prettiest lashes?

A faint, ethereal blue glow emanated before Hermione, as Dimitrov, with precise wand movements, hummed an incantation under his breath while tapping his wand to his ear. Catching her gaze, he offered a nod before redirecting his attention to the professor.

Hermione looked at the Krums and saw that they paid no attention to whatever their friend was doing. The younger Krum, was what Hermione learned from years of studying next to Ron, was staring at a specific point, but not being attentive.

Alexei's face was a softer copy of his brother's. He sported the same thick, dark brows, but his eyes were a lighter shade of brown. His nose, too, wasn't as intense as his brother's. But maybe that had to do more with the fact that his nose didn't look like someone had broken it before. Yet the biggest difference was that the younger wizard smiled.

She suddenly snapped and narrowed her eyes down to her hands. The warm, tickling sensation had transformed into something utterly different. She extended her hands and the soft butterfly touches turned into tiny prickling needles. She swallowed in relief; well at least that's what she told herself, as the tether weakened.

Hermione scrutinized Krum's face, searching for any hint of emotion, something to let her know he was affected too, but all she found was a mask of neutrality, almost borderline boredom.

A painful tightness formed in her throat. Why did she ever think they had a moment? He was just being nice. She must have appeared utterly stupid, clinging onto him like a desperate, complete fool. She shut her eyes and wanted the earth to swallow her.

Freed from the insistent tug vying for her attention, Hermione refocused on the professor, committing herself wholeheartedly to the lesson. The remainder of the class whisked by as she dedicatedly directed her gaze solely at the board and her parchment.

For a second when class concluded, Hermione wondered if Krum would bid her goodnight, but that thought was squashed as all the Durmstrang students got up, gave a slight bow, and swiftly exited the class.

Hermione strode to the Gryffindor Tower. As she crossed a courtyard, she heard voices coming from the Quidditch pitch. She stopped and scanned the crowd for a head of messy black hair.

Emerging from the crowd, Harry's disappointed face came into view. He wasn't the only one cast in dismay; it seemed as if the entire group, save for the twins, shared the same bad news.

Ronald's face reminded Hermione of a child who had just got a toy taken away.

She waved at Harry, and he offered her a small smile.

"Hey, Hermione."

"Hi, Harry." she greeted. "I'd ask how practice went, but guessing from your faces, I'll say not great."

Harry sighed and pushed up his glasses. "Yeah, well imagine someone telling you, you're going to play quidditch with the world's best seeker and then you get there and he's not there!"

Hermione scrunched her nose. "Except no one said he would be there."

"How does that make sense? He's a professional quidditch player!"

Hermione placed her hand on Harry's shoulder. Though it was his fault for assuming that Krum would be there, something tore at her heart, seeing Harry disappointed.

"Well, it's because he is already a professional," she tried to comfort Harry. "It doesn't make sense that he'd play with a bunch of rowdy students. Plus, this is his last year, so it makes more sense for him to take a class that would help with his NEWTS. He can't be a Quidditch player all his life. "

"Right. That makes sense." he dumped shoulders with her. "you're pretty smart," he said to her. "Has anyone told you?"

She laughed, relishing the way his eyes sparkled when he smiled. "Only a couple of times."

For the rest of the way, Harry asked her about her class, to which she said it was fine. She doubted Harry cared about the intricacies and fascinating allure of rune crafting. She thought about mentioning Krum but decided against it. There was no point in letting him know now.

Harry weaved his hands in the air as he explained how surprised he had been when he saw the dainty students of Beauxbatons be so aggressive in the air against the students from Durmstrang. "You should have seen them Mione, they looked like fairies in the air. Lethal, deadly fairies."

He went to inform Hermione that to promote school unity, each team from Hogwarts would have at least one student from each of the sister schools. He talked about a talented but flirty, blonde Russian keeper, whom Hermione instantly assumed was Svoboda.

Hermione let Harry talk her ear off about Quidditch. She felt she at least owed him that as an apology for not being present over the last few days.

A while later, the rest of the Gryffindors trickled into the common room. Having been paying attention to Harry, Hermione missed when the couple came in and stood behind her.

She turned around to see George smirking devilishly at her. "I've come," he said the last word slowly, letting it hang in the air for a second. "To see you, Granger." Hermione's face instantly flushed and she dashed to her room.

She barely saw Angelina hit him in the chest and say, "You bloody idiot!" as she turned the corner for the stairs.

The rest of the week passed quietly. Hermione diligently spent all her free time cooped up in the library, trying to get ahead in her classes. Time in the Great Hall was divided between Lacey and her friends. She had been expecting the couple to say something to her, but by Merlin's small mercies, they hadn't.

Or at least, that's what she thought until Harry lumbered onto the sofa opposite her in the common room. His shoulders were tense, and he kept wiping his palms on the sides of his thighs.

"Hey," he said while shifting around in his seat.

Hermione eyed Harry curiously. "Hi."

His eyes flitted nervously, darting between Hermione, her book, and the other students. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

A wave of irritation washed over her. "Harry." She snapped her book close. "What is it?"

He cleared his throat, and his hands fidgeted incessantly, nervously picking at his clothes. "Well."

"Well, what?" Hermione prompted.

"Right. Er, um." Harry stammered.

Hermione squinted her eyes at her friend. "Harry, what is it?"

"It's just that..." he stammered again, his voice barely a whisper, his cheeks burning red.

The air crackled with Hermione's impatience. This was getting old. "That?"

"That, if you, um, you know." His cheeks grew redder by the second.

Hermione tapped her foot impatiently. "No! I don't know! Because you're not making any sense!"

He finally made eye contact, and he looked like he was about to explode. He quickly avoided her eyes again.

"Harry enough! Out with it!"

He inhaled sharply and looked at her face. "Did y-you." He stopped and Hermione's irritation twisted her face. With one last breath he finished, "Did you and George have-have, did you sleep together?"

"What?!" she yelled and covered his mouth with her hands. Her eyes widened in horror, her mouth agape, a silent scream of mortification trapped within her.

Harry looked like he shared her sentiment because his ears were scarlet and he looked like he was seconds from passing out.

For a second, Hermione's intrusive thoughts begged her to take her book and hit him in the head with it. Then she would jump into The Black Lake and live at the bottom of the lake. She'd befriend the giant squid and together, they would taunt students.

Hermione's head darted around the room, her eyes scanning every corner to see if anyone had heard. Father Luck smiled at her because the common room was mostly empty. Dread crept into her bones as she met Harry's green eyes.

"Wh-what did–" Yeah, no, she wasn't about to repeat what he said. Hermione's mind swirled with a thousand scenarios about how to answer. Half of those were ways she could permanently disappear and never have to bear the weight of her shame. "No, Harry, I didn't!"

"Then why is Angelina asking if you're okay?"

"Wait, what? How did you get from that to-to me and George?"

Harry looked down at his shoes and scratched the back of his neck. "I didn't mean to, I swear. But I overheard them talking about," he cleared his throat, "a closet and you yesterday."

Okay, maybe it wasn't too late. She could still whack Harry with it. Even with his seeker reflexes, he was still looking down. His eyes snapped up at the fire and he turned to look at her. Not now then.

"And then today she pulled me over and asked if you were okay. And I kind of put two and two together."

Her fingers itched for the book now. "That's not putting two and two together! That's jumping from 0 to 100!"

Harry looked offended. "What else could it have been?!"

It was just centimeters away.

"Not what you were thinking!" But she wasn't about to air her perverted laundry, or in her case, her stained knickers to him.

"It's not my fault! You've been acting like they are dementors and George looks like he's undressing you with his eyes every time he looks at you!" His eyes scanned the room and he lowered his voice. He waved his hand over his face. "And then Angelina has this worried expression on her face when she sees you."

Beads of sweat formed on her forehead as she frantically tried to get herself out of this conversation. There was always the book.

"And then today she comes after practice and asks if she could talk to you."

"What the hell Harry!" she swatted his arm with the book. "Why couldn't you have just said that?"

He rubbed the spot where Hermione hit him. "I don't know." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn't know if I should be defending your honor or something."

Her mind raced, a frantic jumble of thoughts and emotions. While it was extremely archaic to fret over a woman's sexuality, it was also nice to have someone ready to stand up for her.

Hermione reached over and hugged Harry. "That's very sweet of you, Harry."

He hugged her back and melted into the hug. Hermione had found out that Harry loved physical affection after the attack in the World Cup.

"So, um, do you want to talk about it?"

Hermione peeled herself away, "No."

"Thank Merlin!" Harry gave her an awkward smile. "So we–"

"We never had this conversation," Hermione remarked, standing up.

One of the many things Hermione loved about Harry was how easily they could move on from things. Something that she and Ron constantly struggled with.

Harry stood up and grabbed her elbows. "But seriously, Mione, I want you to know that I wouldn't think twice about coming to your defense."

"Thank, I know."

"I was a bit disappointed to find out that there were no knights in the wizarding world." He commented light-heartedly. "I always wanted to be one."

"Being the boy who lived isn't enough for you?" She joked.

"No, knights, get all the girls." He laughed, which caused her to laugh. "You should go talk to Angelina. She's been waiting for you in the courtyard by the Charms classroom."

"Harry! She's been waiting this whole time?"

"Yeah, my bad." He looked apologetically.

A part of her wanted to face the confrontation and get it over with. She couldn't keep on avoiding them the whole year, especially since they lived together. Still, a part of her clung to the outlandish notion that living with the giant squid at the bottom of the lake was a better idea.

"I should go."

He nodded and right as she was about to walk away from arm's reach; he grabbed her hand. "Always."

That word sparked her bravery. She squeezed his hand and made her way to the courtyard before her courage ran out.

As Hermione spotted Angelina sitting on a bench, the spark within her flickered and died. The courage that had just ignited moments ago fled like a startled bird. Seeing her, the older witch stood and offered Hermione a kind smile, but it did little to dispel the sudden chill that had settled over her.

Angelina offered a hesitant "Hey," her brow furrowed in concern.

"Um, hello." Hermione tugged at the sleeves of her robe.

The older witch offered a warm and reassuring smile and ushered Hermione to sit next to her.

Hermione sat down and felt like she needed to keep her distance. She was afraid her body would betray her and her shame would poke its ugly head in.

The older witch's smile faltered, a flicker of sadness crossing her eyes.

A pang of guilt washed over Hermione as she observed Angelina's smile fade. She scooted closer and gave her a small smile.

"You don't have to force yourself." Angelina sputtered.

Hermione's shame melted away, revealing a layer of guilt that weighed heavily on her heart. She had been so selfish that she hadn't noticed Angelina's feelings.

"I'm sorry," Hermione apologized.

Angelina turned to face Hermione. Her eyes were friendly and warm. "No, Hermione, you shouldn't have to apologize."

"I–"

"Please let me apologize to you," she sighed. "I, we, me, and George got caught up in the moment, in the magic."

Hermione looked at the witch and couldn't help but blush at the memory, at the way her skin lit up with magic. Angelina smiled at Hermione's tinted cheeks. "Was it your first time?"

My first time being a degenerate, yes, Hermione thought. The weight of the embarrassment and shame felt like a mountain pressing down on her chest, making it difficult to breathe.

Angelina inched closer and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"It's okay, you know, there's nothing to be ashamed of. It's perfectly normal," reassured Angelina.

Hermione's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and a startled gasp escaped her lips. "It's not normal!" Hermione belted.

"Hermione, I know it can be scary, but it's natural."

"Being a degenerate pervert isn't normal!" she shouted.

Anger flickered in Angelina's eyes. "What we do is not wrong!" she snapped.

"We? Hermione jolted up. "I'm talking about me!" she placed her hand on her chest. " I was the one that—I'm the degenerate!"

Angelina rose to her feet and stood taller than Hermione. "Wait, what are you talking about?"

Hermione's heart thudded in her chest and her face felt like it was burning. She never thought that she would have to confess to her depravities. Where was that damned book?

Angelina's brows knit together, and she closed their distance. "Hermione, what are you talking about?"

There was a softness in the older witch's eyes that made Hermione feel safe. Angelina placed her calloused hand on Hermione's shoulder and gave her a light reassuring squeeze.

She took a steady breath and bit her lip. She tried to find the right words, but none were coming to mind. Better just get it over with. "I interrupted your moment together, and I got carried away and stayed like a pervert!" Her gaze dropped to the floor. "I got so into the moment that I-I didn't realize that–"

Angelina laughed, and she threw her head back. Hermione's brows squished together, looking incredulously at the witch.

The taller witch rushed forward, engulfing the stunned Hermione in a warm embrace. "You had us so worried!" She let go and grabbed her hand, leading her to the bench again. "Was that what was making you uncomfortable?"

Too embarrassed to speak, Hermione nodded. Angelina laughed again, and Hermione blushed, feeling foolish.

"Oh, Granger, if we didn't want you there, we would have stopped." She said with a smirk. "It was nice having you." Her voice dropped a little and Hermione's face grew a little hotter.

"It was?" She asked in a shaky voice.

"Yes. Your magic was a delightful addition."

"My magic?"

Angelina hummed and crossed her legs. "You felt my and George's magic, right?

She shivered at the memory. "Yes."

"Well, when wizards and witches are enjoying themselves, if they add a little touch of magic, it makes things more interesting, more intense." She wiggled her eyebrows.

Hermione's body sagged with relief as the weight of her shame lifted from her shoulders. Knowing it had been magic that compelled her to stay eased her nerves. It was always easy to accept things, knowing magic was involved.

The realization of how much she didn't know sparked a thrill within Hermione. Her heart pounded with a mixture of nervous anticipation and exhilarating excitement.

"Is that why I felt like I was being pulled in?"

"Mhm."

Hermione scrunched her brows. "But wouldn't other people detect it as well?"

Angelina snickered. "I see why they call you the brightest witch of her age. And yes, they do, which is why we tend to stay in areas patrolled by Filch. Kinda feel bad for the guy."

"You said my magic was a nice addition, but I didn't let out my magic."

"Well, not intentionally, but since you were aroused, it mingled with the magic that was already in the air." Heat crept up Hermione's neck, staining her face a rosy red.

Angelina continued, "I have a theory that it enhances endorphins and oxytocin. But don't mention that to George or he'll make fun of you for making funny words up."

Hermione giggled at the thought of explaining hormones to wizards. Though she loved this world, she missed science. Once she tried to explain how plant cells worked to Neville and he looked at her like she was speaking another language.

"And that's partially why doing that is frowned upon by purebloods."

Hermione looked from her hands to Angelina.

"It lowers everyone's inhibitions, making them prone to 'indecent behavior,' which is a bunch of shite. But purebloods always get their knickers in a twist about sex."

"Well, if it lowers your inhibitions, isn't that dangerous?"

"It's only dangerous when you can't control your magic. Which is why you had us worried. We thought that it had been too intense for you."

It had been too intense, but not magically— that felt amazing. "What happens when you lose control of your magic?"

"You get a nasty kickback. It's like overfilling a balloon." With her wand, she illustrated a balloon popping and sending a miniature George flying into a wall. "It leaves you in a sort of magical stun. You'll have your magic, but it will feel a bit off. Listen, Hermione if you do ever try it, make sure it's with someone who you trust and wouldn't take advantage of you."

Hermione snorted. Who would ever want to try that with bookworm Granger? If she hadn't walked in by accident, they would have never paid attention to her.

Angelina got up and slapped her hands to her thighs. "We should get going. It's almost curfew."

Hermione's mind whirled with questions as they walked to the common room. If it had such a negative effect, why risk your magic for it?

Angelina glanced at the night sky and stretched her arms. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. I honestly didn't even know what was happening." She blushed again and looked away. "I just know it felt good."

Angelina laughed. "If you do want to try, let me or George know. I'm sure he's dying to try again."

Hermione surprised herself by nodding. She should have rejected the offer, but a part of her wanted to explore that magic again.