The towering walls of the hall were draped with richly embroidered tapestries, where snow-capped mountains loomed over cozy villages adorned with twinkling lights. Wreaths crafted from pine boughs and holly berries hung from every available surface, infusing the air with the fresh scent of evergreen.

At the center of the hall stood a majestic Yule tree, its branches laden with sparkling ornaments and shimmering garlands woven from enchanted ivy. Beneath the tree, a carpet of soft white snowflakes blanketed the floor.

Tables were adorned with intricate centerpieces crafted from seasonal foliage and blooming poinsettias, their vibrant colors contrasting against the deep green of the pine branches. Candles flickered in ornate holders carved with ancient runes, casting a warm and inviting glow throughout the hall.

Mischievous Domovoi danced among the decorations, while graceful Rusalki wove ribbons of moonlight through the air. High above, a troupe of Firebirds soared through the rafters, their iridescent feathers catching the light and casting shimmering reflections upon the walls.

"Absolutely perfect!" said Madam Krum. The witch weaved her arm in Viktor's. Her dress, made from richly woven fabrics in hues of deep red and forest green, flowed gracefully around her form as she scrutinized every detail of the hall.

"It is quite lovely, Mother." Viktor agreed.

Professor Ivanov walked in and extended his slim hand to Viktor's father. "Rayko, friend!"

"Ivanov!" Rayko's hand engulfed the Director's. "How are you friend?"

"I am as well as I can be for 150!" The old wizard turned his attention to the rest of the Krums. "Anelia, you look radiant!" The director took the witch's hand and kissed it. "Viktor, Alexei." He took Viktor and his brother's hand for a handshake.

"Director," Viktor greeted, "I hope things are going well."

"Couldn't be better!" Director Ivanov motioned for the family to the main hall. "We have an excellent team and we are making excellent breakthroughs. Miss Granger, our new…"

Granger? Viktor's brows furrowed. Surely not. Viktor blinked and continued to listen. "...with the foal unicorn. She's truly exceptional!"

Anelia's perfectly sculpted brows lifted. "Is this Grain-ger British?"

"Yes."

"Ah, as in the Grain-ger?"

"Why yes! The very one!" The Director continued to sing her praises as they entered the hall.

The matriarch hummed and tapped her index finger to her chin. "How interesting."

Alexei, who had been oddly quiet, finally spoke up, a devilish smirk on his face. "Oh yes, quite so." He tilted his head to look at Viktor. "Don't you think so Vik?"

Viktor's brows furrowed into deep lines as he scowled at his brother. It had been years since they last wrote to each other, and much longer since they had actually seen each other.

The Director excused himself and moments later he introduced them.

In a sea of whites and reds, she still managed to stand out. Her hair was still wild like in 1994, though she seemed to be able to tame it into a long braid that swept along her shoulder. Her dress was much like the others, yet on her, it was different.

Or at least Viktor was sure that it was her. Her back was facing them as she scurried out of the hall.

A strangled chuckle, barely audible but distinct in the silence, snagged Viktor's ear, pulling his gaze from the retreading witch. "Never seen a witch leave that fast when you are in the room."

Viktor couldn't tear his gaze away from Hermione after setting his sights on her. Her white and red dress flowed around her like liquid fire, highlighting the graceful curve of her back and long legs. Intricate red roses, meticulously embroidered in silk, bloomed across the witch's shoulders, their delicate petals almost shimmering in the light.

A single braid, valiantly attempting to hold sway, cascaded down her back, but playful brown curls, like mischievous sprites, peeked free, creating a halo of sun-kissed wisps.

The warm light caught in her brown eyes, making them sparkle like polished amber. Viktor wondered if the sun ever came out in the Institute. Surely not. How could it? When her eyes colored the landscapes better than the sun ever could.

A faint blush painted her cheeks from the rakia she was drinking mirroring the pink of her plump lips.

The rest of the night Viktor couldn't shake off the feeling that Miss Granger was indeed avoiding him. Viktor sought comfort in the fact that it seemed like she was avoiding his whole family. For every step they took, she took two in different directions.

The more she ran away, the more he wanted to chase her. She was like a snitch, darting around the room, and much like a snitch her shine was impossible to miss among a room full of lights.

Much to Viktor's dismay, his chase came to an end. Director Ivanov was reluctantly dragging her through the crowd. The old wizard's face was plastered with smiles and that bright eye look he got when they helped a creature. The curly-haired witch, though, looked anywhere but at them.

"What did you do to the witch, Viktor?" His mother hissed in his ear.

His brows furrowed. "Nothing."

"That surely doesn't look like nothing." Alexei wiggled his prominent dark brows at his brother.

"I haven't seen her in years, and we stopped writing to each other a year before Voldemort's rise."

His mother shivered. "Poor girl."

"More like brilliant!" Alexei raised his tumbler as said such approached. "She helped defeat one of Britain's most dangerous wizards. There's nothing to pity her mother."

Anelia's lips quirked up and her eyes sparkled with something that didn't sit right with Viktor.

"Miss Granger, dear, I'd like to introduce you to the Krums!" The director stirred the witch to stand in front of Viktor, his brother, and his mother. "Oh, it seems like Rayko is not here at the moment. What a shame." The old wizard stroked his beard, "no matter, you will meet him later."

"This is Anelia Krum."

"Hello, Madam Krum," Hermione bowed her head and her brown eyes landed on the matriarch's. "My name is Hermione Granger."

"You speak Bulgarian Miss Granger?" Anelia asked.

Hermione's pink lips quirked up. "I try." Her eyes were still on Viktor's mother.

"Beauty illuminated by talent." Alexei stepped forward and took her hand into his. He bowed and kissed her knuckles. "Alexei Krum."

She tilted her head to the side and smiled. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Pleasure is all mine to meet both a beautiful and heroic witch." Alexei's light brown eyes connected with hers and he kissed her hand again. Her eyes searched the younger Krum's face before her smolted eyes landed on Viktor's.

"Hi." Her eyes scanned their surroundings and her eyebrows creased.

Viktor's lips twitched. Her brows still folded the same way they did all those years ago. "Her-my-oh-knee, hello." The Seeker stepped forward and swept her hand into his large calloused one. He placed a tentative kiss before letting it go.

"You know Miss Granger Viktor?" asked a confused-looking Ivanov.

"Yes, we met some years ago at Hogwarts," Viktor answered.

"Ah! Yes of course! For the Triwizard tournament." The old wizard shook his head. His brows knitted together. "Why didn't you tell me you knew Viktor, Miss Granger?"

"Oh well, that was years ago." She explained and avoided Viktor's inquisitive gaze.

The Director hummed and went on to boast about all of Hermione's great achievements with the orphaned unicorn, and her genius work analyzing the substance the poachers used as well as the cryptic spells.

At some point, Viktor's father joined his family and the old wizard was all too happy to retell Hermione's findings. "I'm telling you, Rayko, she's going to revolutionize and turn the world on its head!"

"She already did," quipped Viktor.

Her eyes snapped to his, they softened, and he was reminded of that bushy-haired girl with an outspoken passion for elf rights.

"Oh my, yes, yes," the old wizard stroked his beard. "I tell you this old age is getting to me." He finished with a cackle.

The Krum patriarch laughed and placed a big hand on the Director. "Your old age only fails you when it suits you, my friend." He moved to stand between the two magizoologists. "Now Miss Grain-in-ger, why don't you accompany me to talk to some members of the Ministry."

The British witch straightened her back and instantly became another person. Rayko offered the witch the crook of his elbow and they marched towards the throng of pretentious Ministry members.

Viktor spent most of his time signing autographs and answering the same mind-numbingly boring questions. His eyes would occasionally travel to the British witch, who'd be animatedly talking to a Ministry member or some bored, rich pureblood wizard with too much time on his hands.

The director clancked a glass, bringing the room to silence. He thanked everyone for attending and making gracious donations to the Institute. He once again talked about Hermione's great efforts and how her contributions were surely going to help many other creatures that were rescued from poachers.

Right before dinner, a wave of rich music washed over the room as the orchestra launched into their performance. Viktor's father reached for his wife's hand, kissed it, and pulled her into the dance floor.

A sigh escaped Viktor's lips as his eyes scanned the crowd for a dance partner. A pair of brilliant blue eyes met his eyes, and the blond witch smiled prettily, her red lips quirked up before settling into a smirk.

His feet moved out of their own accord as he saw his brother move towards Hermione. Her lovely brown eyes stayed on Alexei until she finally noticed Viktor approaching. She looked to the side and started to walk away, but Viktor was faster.

He was in front of her as she tried to dash the other way. "Her-my-oh-knee."

"Krum."

Viktor snickered. "Krum?" He took a step closer. She wasn't running away anymore. He was done chasing. "Vhy not Viktor?" The English words felt heavy on his tongue, but he didn't care.

Her fingers fiddled with a loose thread on her braid. "It's been a long time," she replied in English.

The song sputtered its last notes, and Viktor reached for the witch's hand. He intertwined his fingers through her soft, delicate ones, and brought her knuckles to his lips. "It has been." His gaze settled on hers, and he leaned forward, his voice dropping a notch, "Dance vith me."

He waited for what seemed like an eternity. As much as he wanted to dance with her, he would not force her. He would walk away with his tail between his legs, but he would never take her options away from her.

The song ended and Viktor bowed his head. He turned to look for the blond witch. He took a step forward before Hermione's hand reached for his and she pulled them towards the dance floor.

A broad grin split his face as he let Hermione lead them away. As the first notes of a slow waltz filled the air, Viktor's calloused hand hesitantly reached out and found its place on Hermione's slender waist. A shiver ran down his spine as their fingers brushed. She met his gaze, but her eyes darted to the floor.

He leaned forward and the scent of jasmine from Hermione's hair filled his nose. "Wot's vrong?"

With each gentle sway, her gaze remained stubbornly fixed on the floor. He closed the distance, his hand finding hers, his touch a whisper against her skin. His thumb gently traced the lines of her fingers. Her shoulders jolted upwards before settling back down.

"What are you doing?!

His brow furrowed, creating deep wrinkles across his forehead. "Dancing?"

"No!" She hissed, her eyes traveled to their locked hand and she quirked an eyebrow. "This! What are people doing to say?!

"They vill say how lucky I am to be dancing with such a vonderful and brilliant vitch."

She huffed, "Have you got no shame!?"

His thumb unconsciously began to trace small circles on the back of her hand as his mind raced, frantically trying to piece together what he had done wrong.

She tried to pry her hand away, her posture stiffened and her shoulders rose defensively. "What is your wife going to think?"

"My wife?" He asked dumbfounded.

"Yes! Your wife!"

The music surged, and with a flourish, he twirled her, her dress billowing like a colorful cloud around them. His fingers, warm and calloused, tightened around her waist, drawing her impossibly close. His lips, a feather-light caress against the shell of her ear, whispered, "I don't have a vife."

"Wait, I thought..." she stammered, but Viktor didn't let her finish.

He dipped her low, his hand grazing her back as he brought her back up, eyes locking with hers. He smiled faintly, his words barely audible but his eyes twinkled as they met hers. "I am not married. Nor have I ever been married."

His hand, firm yet gentle, cupped her waist, pulling her closer until their chests brushed. "Oh," she breathed out. "I thought you were engaged."

His dark brows furrowed. "Gossip. Though Milana vas my girlfriend, I never proposed to her."

The lines in her forehead relaxed and the tension in her body eased. "I see."

"Wot about you?"

"Me?"Hermione's body relaxed against his, the tension from earlier dissipating with each step and spin they did, their movements flowed seamlessly together now.

"Da. Do you have someone?"

"No," she replied in Bulgarian. "I'm not seeing anyone."

His dark gaze snagged on hers and he noticed the light that danced in her brown eyes. Viktor smiled and as her smile met his, his heart did a little pirouette in his chest. "That's good," he said in low, hushed Bulgarian.

Her eyes searched his, "what is?"

"Your Bulgarian," he smirked and twirled her again.

She quirked up an eyebrow and playfully rolled her eyes. "You haven't stepped on my feet this time."

"Many things have changed since."

"Like?" Hermione asked, looking at his dark eyes.

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, playful register. "I have gotten much practice." He spoke slowly, each word deliberate, "I am much better at many things ."

Her cheeks flushed a faint pink, her gaze flitting away for a moment before she met his eyes with a coy, "Oh, really?" Her brown eyes moved to his lips, "Practice does make perfect."

Viktor laughed, and multiple heads turned their way. "That it does, plus I'm not a nervous, fumbling seventeen-year-old anymore who couldn't speak more than tvo vords of English."

Hermione chuckled, "You were nervous?"

"Of course! Vho vouldn't?"

She tilted her head to the side, "because of the tournament?"

He nodded, "No." He squeezed her hand and met her gaze, "I was nervous because of you."

"Me?" Her brows knitted together and she returned the gesture, her delicate fingers squeezing his.

"Yes, because of you." He smiled remembering the way his heart had beat wildly against his chest when he saw her come down the stairs. "I vas with the most beautiful vitch in the vhole school."

A pretty flush stained her cheeks. "You don't mean that," she said in English.

"I do." He uttered softly in English. He let go of her hand and intertwined their fingers. He stared into her eyes, "even now, you're the most beautiful vitch in the room," he confided in a hushed Bulgarian. "I know that tonight I will talk to the moon. It vill tell me about the sun and I vill tell it about you."

"Viktor," she murmured looking at his lips again, "I–"

A deafening roar ripped through the air, the force of an explosion sent a shockwave through the hall that made the chandeliers shiver violently.

Viktor's instincts kicked in before his mind could catch up. He lunged for Hermione, his hand wrapping around her arm as a second blast hit. He cast a hasty shield around them and prayed it would hold.

The second blast wasn't just louder, it felt like a physical blow against his weak shield, knocking them off their feet and sending debris raining down. The heat of the explosion washed over them in a searing wave. Smoke choked his lungs, acrid and thick. He stumbled, vision blurry. He tried l to make sense of the now destroyed room but tears stung his eyes from the smoke. The first scream ripped through the smoke-filled air, followed by another, and another.

The coppery taste of fear filled his mouth, mingling with the acrid bite of smoke. He blinked and saw Hermione beside him, her hair dusted with gray, her eyes wide with worry and panic.

He squinted through the smoke, searching for his family. His heart was a frantic drum against his ribs.

His wand moved to cast the intricate pattern of a vision-clearing spell. As the magic settled, his vision sharpened, cutting through the dust and chaos. Relief washed over him as he spotted them - his brother's ugly gold robes, his father's broad frame, and a protective shield around his mother's pale form. A deep shaky breath escaped him. "Thank Marzanna," he breathed out.

He reached for Hermione and cast the same spell over her eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, thanks to you," she replied. She swallowed and pushed the stray hairs that covered her face out of the way. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm–"

"Viktor you're bleeding!" She quickly grabbed her wand and pointed it to his right shoulder,

"It's just a scratch."

Hermione shook her head, liberating more curls. "Let me, it'll only take a second."

"Her-my-oh-knee," he grabbed her hand, "It's really fine," he was going to continue protesting but the desperation in her eyes churned with a desperate plea, tugged at his heart. There was so much urgency, so much raw desperation in her shaky hands that he couldn't ignore it.

She sighed in relief and ran her fingertips over his healed shoulder. "All done." She squared her shoulders and scanned the crowd. "Go with your family."

"Come vith me."

"I can't. I'm going to see who needs help," she cocked her head to the left, where pained screams were filling the room. She transfigured her now dirtied, ripped dress into a pair of slacks and her heels into Muggle shoes. Her once square, shiny black bag transformed into a purple satchel.

Viktor clenched his jaw, he didn't want to leave her, but he needed to check on his mother. "I'll meet you in 10 minutes, I just need to check on my mother."

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes like it had not 5 minutes ago. "Go," she ushered him with her hand.

She moved with the practiced and measured steps of someone who knew how to maneuver through debris and chaos. She wasn't new to this–to destruction, bloodied bodies, desperate pained screams. A wave of nausea washed over Viktor as he saw the way she moved, a cold realization dawning - this wasn't stoicism, it was numbness.

With his wand in hand, Viktor walked to his family. The Yule tree was ripped from its base. It crashed to the ground in a splintering chaos of wood and ornaments. Crystal shards from the shattered chandeliers glittered like malevolent stars amidst the swirling smoke and dust that choked the air.

"Vicktor!" Alenia cried out as she quickly stood up from a makeshift chair. "Are you alright my dear boy?" Viktor's mother fussed over her son, her hands cupping his bearded face and traveling to his shoulders.

"I am well mother." The seeker sighed as his mother ran diagnostic spells on him. "Are you all alright?"

"Your father hurt his leg!" Alenia, now done fretting over her oldest son, rushed over to her husband.

"I told you I am fine dear." Rakya patted his leg, "it's a flesh wound." His wife's face creased with worry as the Krum patriarch stood up. "A wound you already healed."

"How about you Alexei?"

"Well besides my robes being utterly destroyed, I am well." The younger Krum dusted off a dark smudge on his shoulder. "I was away from the blast zone."

"If everyone is alright, we need to get to work." Viktor's father pulled out his wand and a projected map of the Institute floated in the air. "We need to figure out where the runes were weakened."

As the eldest Krum was giving directions to his sons, the Director limped forward. His robes like everyone else's were covered with dirt and blood. "Director, are you okay?" Asked Alexei.

The old man sighed and rubbed his leg and hip. "As well as one can be. We are trying to make sense of what happened."

"You were attacked." Stated Rakya.

The professor furrowed his brows almost to the point where the two white bushy eyebrows almost touched. "I don't understand. Your runes should have held up."

Rakya clenched his jaw hard. "They should have." His magic radiated off him in powerful waves.

"Nothing that can't be fixed." The old wizard placed a hand on the broad wizard. "Everyone is alright- a bit shaken, but alright."

Now that the dust had settled Viktor realized that the hall was nearly empty, except for the Institute workers who were checking up on one another.

Hermione was talking to a woman with red hair and a burly wizard with dried blood on the collar of his shirt.

"You should evacuate the premise while me and my team rework the runes, as a safety precaution."

The old wizard looked at the cracked ceiling that looked like it would be blown away with the lightest breeze. "You know that we can't do that."

Viktor scowled. "It's not safe to remain here, not until we are sure that the runes will hold and there are no more threats. I will go ahead and contact the Aurors, but until they have cleared the area it's not safe to stay here, Director."

"You are right, Which is why you should take your mother home and rest," Ivanov commented. "I will wait for the Aurors."

"That's an excellent idea. Viktor, Alexei, take your mother home and inform Vlad that he needs to assemble a team right away."

Viktor watched as Hermione, her brows furrowed in concentration, rummaged through the depths of her beaded bag. With a triumphant smile, she retrieved a stack of parchment, its edges worn with use, and handed them to a nervous-looking boy.

The Deputy Director barked orders as his team scurried out of the hall. An older witch joined Hermione, rolls of parchments spilled from her arms as she motioned to the exit.

Reaching the doorway, Hermione paused, her hand hovering on the knob. Then, she pivoted, a warm smile crinkling the corners of her eyes as she silently mouthed her farewell to Viktor.

The last echoes of the commotion faded into hushed whispers. With a sigh of relief, the Director and Deputy Director finished delegating tasks to their weary staff. Viktor's father, however, stood with a furrowed brow, his gaze fixed on his sons. "Viktor go to the manor and gather the runes. Alexei get in contact with Vlad and assemble the team."


Viktor's boots echoed on the cold stone floor as he hurried down the twisting stairs to the repository. The flickering torchlights cast long shadows across the walls.

He reached the bottom, and he instantly felt the hum of dormant magic. His fingers traced the intricate carvings of a protection rune slab, its smooth surface cool against his palm. With a deep breath, he selected a dozen of the necessary, Ingwaz, Algiz, Dagaz, Ehiwaz, and Urus runes.

With the coined-sized stones in his pocket, he bolted upstairs. His brother was explaining the details of the attack, the places where the runes had been weakened, and their father's plan.

As they were about to finalize the last details of their plan, a gust of wind swept through the room, carrying with it the ethereal glow of Raykas' patronus. Dread settled in the pit of his stomach as the majestic eagle hovered in the middle of the room. "The Institute is under attack. Need Runes."

"Let's apparate next to the service entrance," instructed Dimitrov.

With a soft pop, they apparated to the back of the Institute. Viktor stumbled forward as black smoke evaded his sight and nose. His ears were instantly overwhelmed by the crackling of spells and the shouting of curses. He barely had time to register the scene before a crimson bolt of light streaked towards him. With a reflexive twist, he narrowly avoided the curse, the heat singeing his ear. "Fuck!"

Viktor's gaze darted across the chaotic scene. The Bulgarian Aurors with their crimson robes emblazoned with silver wings deflected curses with shields, and launched counter-attacks against a group of black-clad wizards with creature's severed heads.

"Sick fucks," fumed Alexei. He whipped his wand upwards, and a jet of crackling red light streaked toward a wizard wearing a griffin's head.

They sprinted down the corridor. The Krum siblings worked in perfect harmony. Viktor ducked and twisted, his wand blurring as he parried a curse aimed at his chest. Alexei unleashed a fiery jet from his wand, momentarily stunning their attacker.

Bursting through the double doors, they tumbled into the vast hall. An auror greeted them and escorted them to an area where the Krum patriarch was waiting with the Director.

"I'm glad you made it." Rakya marched in front of his sons and placed a hand on each of their shoulders.

The auror that escorted them, stepped forward, "We are going to begin evacuations," he took a sharp, impatient breath, and turned to the Director, "We have given you enough time to secure your creatures."

Viktor handed the runes to his father. "You haven't secured the parameter?"

A faint twitch played at the raven-haired Auror's temple. "No," he bit out. He crossed his arms tightly across his chest, "We have been waiting for the staff to secure the creatures. But apparently, they have decided that they are not going to leave. We will work inside out and secure the area that way."

The Seeker didn't know why he even bothered, but his frantic gaze swept across the throng. Young witches and wizards, who looked like they had graduated, their eyes wide and fearful, clutched wands in trembling hands.

"Where's the rest of your staff?" inquired Alexei, his gaze scanning the crowd, likely in search of the same curly-haired witch.

"This is everyone who will be evacuating." His gaze, usually bright and confident, dimmed as he looked around the room.

A venomous scowl twisted his features, "you can't be serious Director."

The old wizard's eyes clouded with sadness, but he still offered the scowling Bulgarian a smile. "I cannot force them to leave." He squared his shoulders and addressed the Auror, "You may begin evacuations," he then turned to Rayko, "I will help you set up the runes." He brought out a wooden box out of his pocket, with the tip of the wand the box expanded to its original size. "I have everyone's wand signatures here."

Viktor clenched his fits and the image of Hermione's composure to the attack swirled in his mind. There was no fucking way he was going to let her face these sick fucks alone. "Where is she?" he demanded.

The Director smiled and informed Viktor that Hermione was with the newest unicorn foal in the stables at the back of the Institute. "With the wards and runes down you should be able to go directly there."

His fingers brushed against the smooth, cool surface of the miniature Firebolt nestled in his pocket. He took out his wand and pointed it to the miniature broom, " Engorgio ." The tiny broom shimmered and pulsed before rapidly expanding.

"I take it I don't have a shot with her then?" Alexei joked.

"No."

Alexei's laugh filled the tense space. "Get going then," he cocked his head to the side, "go get your English rose."

With a practiced leap, Viktor landed astride his broomstick, the familiar feel of the polished wood instantly grounding him. His fingers curled around the smooth grip and turned his head toward his father's voice.

"Be careful Viktor."

"I will."

Viktor pushed off, the wind whipping through his hair as the Firebolt surged forward. He maneuvered through the chaotic halls, deftly avoiding fallen debris. He sharply turned left, his thighs gripping the broom tightly as his body leaned close to the floor. Viktor then soared above the Institute, the wind singing in his ears as he climbed higher.

An inky darkness suffocated the Institute, but the first rays of sunlight speared through the jagged peaks of the mountains. He spotted the stables and with a sharp turn, he dove downwards, the stables growing larger with each beat of his heart. A bolt of green flashed from within and the muscles in his forearms bulged as he tightened his grip on the broom.

Just inches above the grass, Viktor wrenched his broom upwards. He slowly and carefully circled the stables. His mouth went dry. Two wizards with unicorn heads were crutched, hiding behind a table. One of the wizards stood up and shot a Glacius attack. The spell missed and the stall's wood froze.

He landed and cast a Disillusionment on himself. He crouched low and with measured steps walked to the opposite side of the attackers. With a deep breath he peered through one of the windows. Hermione was crouching beside a sleeping unicorn. The attackers launched a set of attacks and Viktor jolted upwards. The wood splintered around Hermione and bounced off her shield. She took a steady breath and shot a Stupefy , the spell missed but it made the two masked wizards coward behind the table.

Viktor's wand swirled, tracing intricate patterns in the air. A rock at his feet pulsed with magic, its form shimmering and shifting before solidifying into a miniature Chinese Fireball. It swooped from the window and landed gently in front of the witch.

She jerked back, her eyebrows knitted together as she scrutinized the dragon. Her hands reached out, cradling the small dragon with a gentle touch. Her gaze scanned the stable windows until her brown eyes landed on Viktor. A wave of relief washed over Hermione's face, and her eyes softened. She turned to him and Viktor saw red. There was an ugly slash on her right forearm.

He had the urge to pulverize the wizards' faces to the ground. She had been through so much and now these motherfuckers were here and they hurt her.

The Seeker's head snapped sideways, eyes narrowed on the attackers. A single, sharp movement of his finger sliced through the air. The curly-haired witch nodded and poised herself to attack, her wand held ready.

Viktor ghosted around the stable. He materialized behind the attackers, their backs turned, vulnerable. Hermione launched another Stupify and a Confringo. The stray spell bounced off the table, and wisps of smoke danced off the wooden surface.

"Shit!" One of the attackers said.

"I'm so done with this bitch," the other wizard spewed as he unleashed a Diffendo . The spell landed but it defected off Hermione's shield. "When I get my hands on her–"

Range burned in Viktor's veins, he pointed his wand to the back of the wizard, and in a heartbeat, he shouted, " Depulso !"

The wizard flew forward, his torso slammed into the table and his face smashed against the wall with a bone-cracking thud.

"Fuck!" The other wizard yelled, he swiftly turned around, and the tip of his wand glowed with an ominous green.

Hermione reacted like a coiled spring, and sent an Arresto Momentum, she walked from behind the stall and with her wand held high cast a Flipendo. The man hurled backward like a rag doll, limbs flailing as his body slammed against the wall.

The witch sagged against the wall and sighed.

Viktor rushed to the witch, his hands reached for her. He'd only meant to support her weight, but his arms snaked around her form. She leaned her weight against his chest.

Viktor gulped, "Her-my-oh-knee, are you okay?"

She sighed. "Yes, just very tired." She sounded so exhausted. Viktor tightened his hold on her frame. His hand traveled to the back of her neck and let his hand rest there as he pulled her back.

He took out his wand, and as she had done, he healed her bleeding forearm. "Are you hurt anyvhere else?"

She shook her head and Viktor scowled. His eyes began to roam her body. "Oh sorry, um, no I'm fine."

"You need rest. The Aurors are still vorking on securing the area. Once they have secured it, you can come back for the unicorn."

She shook her head. "I can't leave Bluey!"

Viktor furrowed his eyebrows. Hermione's eyes were glued to the sleeping unicorn. Ah, right. "He vill be okay."

Hermione bit her lip and clenched her fists in Viktor's robes. "No! You don't understand, he is not well and the attack startled him!" Her eyes became glossy and she blinked twice. A tremor ran through her voice, "I can't leave him."

Viktor smiled and looked at the sleeping unicorn. "Then you both come vith me."

Her eyes snapped to his face, "Wh-what do you mean?"

He gently squeezed her nape before letting her go. He stood up and nervously rubbed the back of his own neck. "To my house."

The magizooliogist's eyebrows shot up. "Your house?"

"Yes." Viktor wasn't entirely sure why he was so nervous. He was just inviting an old friend and her, er unicorn to rest at his house. That was it. He swallowed and felt his palms grow clammy. "To rest," he clarified.

"But where would Bluey stay?"

Viktor smiled. Of course, she would be worried about the unicorn, rather than her reputation. "I have stables."

Hermione strode and bent down to where the unicorn was still sleeping. She petted its head, "he doesn't do well with other creatures." She almost sounded like a mother explaining why her son misbehaved.

He walked over and offered his hand to her. She grabbed it and he pulled her up. "No vorries, I only have horses."

A bright smile lifted the corners of her mouth and Viktor's heart fluttered. "Didn't take you as a horse-kind of wizard."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Vot did you take me for?"

She stepped closer and peered up at him, "broom-kind of wizard." She smiled mischievously at him. "I hear you are okay flying."

He snickered. Okay? No witch had ever said he was 'okay' at anything, much less flying. "Okay? Just okay?"

She hummed, still smiling at him. "Just okay."

"Ha! I am very good at flying," he met her warm eyes and took a step closer, bridging their distance. " I did tell you right," he stepped even closer, "I am very good at many things." Her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. He cocked his head to the side, "Or is your memory failing you already, Her-my-oh-knee?"

Her mouth went slack and an indigent expression washed over her face. "My memory is perfectly fine!"

He grinned. "Doesn't look like it."

She straightened her back and poked his chest, "my memory is perfectly fine!"

As much as Viktor wanted to continue bantering with the witch, the bags under her eyes screamed at him to get her into bed. Not his bed. A bed in his house. Far away from his own bed. "Ve shall see." With his thumb, he tried to clean a smudge of her cheek. "Let's get you to a bed."

A knowing smile played on her lips, mirrored by a single, arched eyebrow. "So forward, Mr Krum."

His cheeks burned, a blush creeping up his neck. He coughed, brought his hand to his mouth, and thanked Perun for not having listened to his mother's insistent nagging about his 'outlandish appearance.' "Maybe later."

He wasn't sure why he had said that. Well, he did. She was fantastic, beautiful, and intelligent, any wizard would be lucky to have her. But the moment the words left his mouth he wished there was a lake he could go jump into. To his salvation, Hermione laughed. And oh, how that was the best sound he had heard in a long time.

"Relax, I'm joking! I did hear the 'a'," she said with a light tone and smile.

A joke? That's good. Actually quite excellent, that joke. He cleared his throat and smoothed the front of his robes. "Those jokes of yours vill get you in trouble." Viktor's voice dipped low. He tried to make his point by setting his dark eyes on her. She, unlike others, met his gaze head-on, and the way her sugar-brown eyes twinkled at him almost with anticipation, sent a shiver down his spine. "Nov let's get you both out of here."

For the next few minutes, Viktor and Hermione discussed how they were going to take the unicorn. Apparition was out of the question, as the creature was too big and something in Hermione's tense expression at the mention of it instantly discarded that idea.

They finally agreed on a broom trailer attached with an undetectable extension charm to make the trailer small enough to be towed by a broom but big enough to transport a unicorn. Hermione also suggested adding a feather-light charm.

While Viktor worked on transfiguring the wooden trailer, Hermione ran diagnostic spells on the unicorn and for good measure cast a sleeping spell. She slowly transferred the creature and added a multitude of cushioning charms.

"Ready?" Viktor called out. He cast warming charms over them. She rubbed her hands together and thanked him.

Hermione bit her lip and bounced on the balls of her feet. Viktor quirked a questioning eyebrow at the witch.

"Her-my-oh-knee?"

She inhaled a deep breath, but it didn't help ease the nauseous look on her face. "Yes. Just…give me a second." However, it seemed that fate was working against her. A loud explosion shook the floor, raddling the trailer.

Viktor jumped on his feet and withdrew his wand. Hermione joined him and strode to stand next to him and the broom. "Let's go," she commanded. She double-checked everything and then she awkwardly fumbled to mount the broom. If the situation wasn't so serious, Viktor would have snickered. This witch had the grace of a giant. "Those are Ana's traps. She set them up once she took the creatures."

In one fluid motion, Viktor straddled the broom. His arms snaked around Hermione's slender waist and his hands rested on her white knuckles. "Ve can not fly if you choke the broom."

"Sorry."

"Her-my-oh-knee," he said softly against her ear. His fingers ran along her tense hands, "let go."

"So I'll fall? No, thank you. Dying on a piece of wood that shouldn't be able to fly is not on my top ways to die."

Viktor chuckled, mostly at the ridiculous idea that he would ever let her fall. "I vill never let you fall," he earnestly promised. "Let go, I haff you."

The witch finally eased her deathly hold on the broom and her shoulders sagged. "If you drop me, I swear I will come back and hunt you."

The Seeker laughed, "then I vill have beautiful vitch flying with me."

Hermione whipped her head around, her long braid smacking Viktor's face. "That's not funny Viktor!"

"It is." He brought the British witch flushed with his chest, his thick thighs braced hers as he kicked off. "Mm, I can see it nov, you vith me playing Quidditch." He flew slow and low until he adjusted to the weight of the trailer.

"No thank you! I'm not a fan of getting concussions."

"Those are the best parts." He wiggled his eyebrows and he let go of one hand to point to his crooked nose. "And the broken noses. It's part of the charm."

Hermione hummed. "It will make you very popular then."

Viktor leaned closer, his chin hovered over her shoulder, "I only care if it vorks vith certain vitches."

She turned her head the other way and it was then she finally noticed. "We are flying!"

"Da. Ve have been for a vhile."

Her head pivoted more to try to look behind them, but her body wobbled and she snapped her head to the front. The chokehold on the broom returned and they dipped down. Viktor's hand found hers, "relax. Your unicorn is okay."

"Bluey. His name is Bluey," she replied defensively.

The corners of his lips quirked up. "Bluey is fine."

Hermione relaxed, her head settled on Viktor's chest. "Thank you for doing this. You didn't have to."

"True." Hermione snickered and Viktor continued, "I vanted to," he stopped and wondered if it was prudent to continue, he didn't want to push her boundaries. After a minute, he said fuck it. You don't win by playing it safe. "I didn't vant you to slip through my fingers again."

Instead of a reply, Hermione snuggled against his chest. The warmth of her body seeped into his and to Viktor's delight, she stayed like that the rest of the way. He forced himself to focus on the broom, the trailer, the weather, anything to take his mind off the soft curve of her arse pressing against his cock.

Once they arrived at Viktor's cottage. He adjusted his wards and runes to allow her to come and go as she pleased. While he was working on that, Hermione settled Bluey in stalls next to his horses. After two hours, he thought about picking her up and tossing her onto the bed.

When she finally relented, satisfied that Bluey had settled in, Viktor escorted her inside.

As she stood in front of the sunbathed door, Viktor took her soft hand into his, clicked his heels, and bowed. He stared into her honey-brown eyes and kissed her knuckles.

"Rest vell, Miss Grain-in-ger."

"You too, Mr Krum."