To the you of 1994

by Littlechurro

Viktor Krum and Hermione Granger navigate through different challenges as they explore their new and enthralling magical bond during the Triwizard tournament. There will be contracts with demons, rebellion against pureblood customs, but nothing can compare to the magical bond they feel. If you are having problems, check it out on A03

15. Chapter Fourteen

November 22- Friday

Viktor sat at his desk. The room was silent, save for the soft rustle of parchment as he wrote a letter to Hermione. His heart thrummed in his chest.

The letter was simple, asking Hermione to confirm the time and place for their meeting in the pig's town tomorrow.

As he sealed the envelope with a dab of wax, the door to his room creaked open. Vladimir sauntered in, a smirk playing on his lips. "The security here is shite."

Viktor shook his head and scoffed, "Well it's not like they expect the students to know how to break advanced security charms."

The blonde plopped himself down on the couch. "What's this?" Vlad teased, gesturing towards the letter in Viktor's hand. "Sending love letters so late into the night? So naughty Vik."

The Seeker scowled. "It's nothing like that," he muttered, but the defensiveness in his tone betrayed him.

Vlad chuckled, shaking his head as he flopped down onto the couch. "You look ridiculous, you know. Pining after a witch like some lovesick puppy."

Viktor shot him a dark look, but there was little heat behind it. He and Vlad had been friends for so long that such teasing didn't truly offend either of them. "Just wait until it happens to you," he retorted. "Then we'll see who looks ridiculous."

Vlad laughed. "Ain't even going to deny it huh?"

"No." Why would he? He was not ashamed of his growing affection towards the British witch. "You'll understand one day."

"And I will welcome that day with open arms and a warm bed."

The Seeker scoffed.

"I will," Vlad retorted. "You know, once I have made my way around the world." A sly smile appeared on his face. "One witch at a time."

Vlad's expression turned serious as he recounted the events of Wednesday night. "Karkaroff was going to have us trail those dragon tamers," he said, his voice low. "He's desperate to get any advantage he can before the first task."

Viktor's brow furrowed. "And? Did he?"

"No," Vlad admitted with a shrug. "But it was worth a try. Karkaroff's paranoid that he will be humiliated if we, you, don't win."

The Bulgarian rolled his eyes.

"I didn't feel too good, though," Vlad continued, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I took a new potion to help with the symptoms, but it left me feeling off."

"You should be careful with those," the Bulgarian warned. "You don't know what's in them."

"I know, I know," Vlad said with a wave of his hand. "But fuck it's not like I have much of a choice, do I?"

Viktor couldn't argue with that. The curse was cruel and relentless and it left the Slovodas seeking desperate solutions, like taking fishy potions from even fishier places.

The Seeker's hands clenched tightly as Vladimir recounted Hermione and Potter's close encounter with Karkaroff in the forest.

"Karkaroff nearly caught them?" Viktor's voice was low, dangerous.

Vlad nodded, his expression grim. "They were lucky. If I hadn't been there to distract him..." He trailed off, the implication hanging heavy in the air.

Viktor's mind raced. Hermione had been in danger, and it was Potter who had put her there. The boy wonder, who seemed to attract trouble like a magnet, had no right to endanger her.

Vlad's voice broke through Viktor's thoughts. "She was amazing, though. She took care of me after I passed out. I woke up to Potter looming over me, looking like he wanted to hex my balls off." He chuckled. "She's got a good head on her shoulders."

He felt a strange mix of pride and irritation. He was glad that Hermione had been there to help, but the thought of her tending to Vlad, of her being so close to danger, made his blood boil.

"And Potter?" Viktor asked, trying to keep his voice even. "What did he have to say about all this?"

"Oh, he threatened me, of course," Vlad said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Told me not to breathe a word about seeing them. As if I would."

"Did he say why he brought Her-my-oh-knee there?"

"No," Vlad raised a blonde eyebrow, his blue eyes narrowing on his friend. "Why would he?"

Viktor's scowl deepened. Potter had no business dragging Hermione along. She was a witch for fucks sake!

"Vik," Vlad said, his tone serious. "You need to talk to her. Make her see that following Potter isn't worth the risk."

Viktor's brows furrowed.

"I can't do that, Vlad," Viktor said, his voice low. "She's not mine to warn."

Vlad scoffed. "That shouldn't stop you. You've been pining after her for weeks. Just tell her that Potter is bad news and she should stay away from him."

Viktor shook his head. "It's not that simple. She's not...she's not mine." The words tasted bitter on his tongue.

"So?" Vlad argued. "You're going to let her get mixed up Potter? Based on what Oleg has told us Boy Wonder is nothing but trouble. He's going to get her hurt, Vik. You know it."

Viktor's jaw tightened. He did know it. The thought of Hermione being caught in the crossfire again made his stomach churn. But he also knew that Hermione was fiercely independent, and she would not take kindly to him trying to dictate her choices.

"I can't," he repeated his voice firm. "It's not my place."

Vlad groaned in frustration. "Fuck, Vik, you're too damn noble for your own good. If she is going to be yours, why should it matter if you tell her or not? It's your right."

Viktor's lips quirked into a wry smile. "Since I realized that Her-my-oh-knee Gran-ger is not the type of witch to be told what to do."

His friend regarded him for a long moment, blue eyes searching. Finally, Vlad sighed and leaned back against the couch. "Fine. Have it your way."

Viktor shook his head.

Vlad grinned. "Gods know you've got your work cut out for you with that one."

The Seeker chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing. "I always liked a challenge."

The blond laughed and threw his head on the couch. He ran a hand through his golden locks. "Anyway," Vlad said, changing the subject, "it's good that Potter and Johnson know about the dragons. It levels the playing field a bit."

Viktor shook his head. "Yes," he agreed. "It does."

The tall champion strode over to Strelka, Viktor's brown hawk, perched regally over the fireplace. His keen eyes watched Viktor with an intensity that matched his owner's.

With a swift, practiced motion, he attached the letter to Strelka's leg, giving him a gentle nudge. "Can you take this to Miss Gran-ger?"

The hawk spread his wings and took flight, disappearing through the open window and into the night.

Vladimir, ever the observer, commented, a smirk playing on his lips. "You look like a lovesick puppy, Vik," he teased, his voice echoing in the quiet room. "If you keep smiling like that people might actually get used to it. It's a bit unsettling."

Viktor scowled.

"That's more like it!" The blonde cheered.

The minutes ticked by, each one stretching longer than the last. Just as Viktor's patience was wearing thin, Strelka returned, a small envelope clutched in his talons. Viktor's heart leaped into his throat as he detached the letter and dismissed the hawk with a wave of his hand.

He recognized Hermione's neat, precise handwriting immediately. With trembling hands, he broke the seal and unfolded the parchment.

The witch's reply was brief but clear. She agreed to meet him behind the main street in the town at noon. Viktor let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, a sense of relief washing over him.

Vlad, who had been watching the exchange with a curious expression, couldn't resist the opportunity to tease his friend. "So, she said yes, then?" he asked, his voice laced with amusement. "I can't believe it. Infamous, scowling, Viktor Krum, with a date. A willing date, he set up himself."

"I know," he said, his lips twitching upward.

November 23- Saturday- Morning

Viktor savored the hearty aroma of sausages and black bread as he settled across from Karkaroff in his private dining quarters aboard the ship.

"I want you to get two more sessions with Hansen today," Karkaroff growled, his beady eyes narrowing. "The first task is tomorrow, and I expect nothing less than perfection from you."

The Seeker leaned back in his chair, trying to mask his irritation. He had trained tirelessly, pushing his body to its limits. He hadn't been sleeping, hadn't flown, hadn't been practicing, hadn't seen Hermione.

Fuck Karkaroff.

He needed a break before he ended up as a crispy dragon snack. And he would be damned if he let Karkaroff stop him from seeing her.

"With respect, sir, I believe some rest would better serve me now," Viktor said, choosing his words carefully. "My mind and body need a reprieve before the challenge tomorrow."

Karkaroff's eyes flashed with displeasure, his lips curling into a sneer. "Rest? This is no time for idleness, Krum. Every moment should be spent honing your skills, ensuring Durmstrang's victory. I will not have you shame me."

Viktor suppressed a sigh, his fingers drumming lightly against the table. "I am as ready as I can be, Headmaster. Overexertion now could do more harm than good."

The Russian headmaster's eyes narrowed into slits.

"I was thinking a visit to the town would help settle my nerves," he suggested cautiously. "A change of scenery, a chance to relax before the task. I would return refreshed and focused."

Karkaroff scoffed, his brow furrowing deeply. "The town? That piece of trash?" He made a dismissive sound. "You want to go there?"

"It is the only choice, sir."

"True," his face twisted with disgust. "No red light district, no real entertainment," Karkaroff continued. "Just a few pathetic shops and one seedy bar. Hardly the kind of place a wizard to find relaxing."

Viktor's fingers tightened around his cutlery, his patience wearing thin.

"I appreciate your concern, Headmaster," Viktor said, his voice steady despite his growing irritation. "But I am not looking for...entertainment. I simply wish to clear my mind before the task."

Karkaroff snorted, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Clear your mind, you say? In that dreary little town? I doubt you'll find much to occupy yourself with."

Viktor met Karkaroff's gaze evenly, refusing to let the headmaster's mockery get to him. "I am sure I will manage, sir. A quiet walk, a change of scenery...that is all I need."

Karkaroff's lips curled into a sneer. "Suit yourself, Krum. But remember, the task tomorrow is a priority." He scoffed. "Though you hardly have any competition, I expect you to be at your best."

Viktor nodded, his expression impassive. "I understand, Headmaster."

"One more thing," Viktor said. "I was hoping you might have a dose of Polyjuice Potion I could use."

"Polyjuice? What for?"

"Personal reasons," Viktor replied, keeping his expression neutral.

The last thing he wanted was to be crowded by fans when he was out with Hermione.

The headmaster snorted derisively. "Personal reasons?" Do you really think I should spend valuable resources on your... personal affairs?" He shook his head, his lip curling.

Viktor fought to keep his temper in check. "It's not what you think. I simply wish to move about unnoticed for a few hours." He just wanted a few hours where he could be alone with Hermione, without dozens of eyes on them.

"Unnoticed?" Karkaroff scoffed. "By who? The people in that mediocre village?" He waved a dismissive hand. "That seems unnecessary."

"Still, I would appreciate the potion," Viktor pressed, his tone hardening slightly. "Just this once."

He would rather bite his tongue before he said 'please' to Karkaroff.

Karkaroff leaned back in his chair, studying Viktor with a calculating gaze. "And why should I help you? What's in it for me?"

Viktor gritted his teeth, frustration simmering. "Is keeping youy champion happy not reason enough?"

"Tsk, tsk." Karkaroff tsked, shaking his head slowly. "You're assuming I care about your personal life."

"It's a simple request," Viktor said, fighting to keep his voice level. "One that would only benefit my performance tomorrow."

"The only way to benefit your performance is to train with Hansen and if you are not doing that, then I am not interested in anything you are doing," he said with a dismissive tone. He stood up and walked to the window. "We are done here."

Through clenched teeth Viktor excused himself.

November 23- Saturday- Afternoon

Viktor made his way down the winding path from Hogwarts to the quaint village of Pigsmeade. The crisp autumn air nipped at his cheeks, but his heart raced with anticipation.

As he walked, a few curious students paused to stare, whispering amongst themselves. Viktor wished he had the damned Polyjuice Potion. But that didn't matter, today was about Hermione, and he was determined to make the most of their time together.

The cobblestone streets were alive with the bustle of students and villagers alike, their laughter and chatter mingling with the scent of freshly baked pastries. The buildings, with their slanted rooftops and colorful facades, seemed to lean in towards the narrow lanes. Ivy climbed the walls of the charming shops, and the occasional wisp of steam curled from the chimneys.

The Seeker stepped into the cool, dimly lit interior of Gringotts Wizarding Bank, the clinking of coins and the low murmur of goblin conversations echoing off the marble walls.

The goblins, with their sharp features and beady eyes, moved about with purpose, their clawed fingers clutching ledgers and quills. Viktor approached the counter, his footsteps muffled by the plush crimson carpet. The goblin behind the desk looked up, its eyes narrowing as it took in the young wizard's appearance.

"State your business," the goblin grunted.

"I wish to open an account," Viktor replied. He placed his wand and the Krumov family ring on the counter.

The goblin's eyes widened slightly at the sight of the ring, recognition flickering across its face. "Viktor Krum," it said, its tone now laced with respect. "We are honored to serve the next heir of the Krumov family."

Viktor shook his head. The goblin bustled about, preparing the necessary paperwork for Viktor to sign. As he scrawled his signature across the parchment, Viktor couldn't help but think of his father. He knew he would be alerted of this transaction, and while a part of him dreaded the inevitable lecture, another part of him just simply didn't care. This was his life, his decision. He was a grown man, he could, would make his own decisions.

With the formalities concluded, the goblin led Viktor to a private room where they would link his new English account with his personal one back in Bulgaria. The process was intricate, involving spells and incantations that wove a magical connection between the two accounts.

As the goblin worked, Viktor's thoughts drifted to Hermione. Did she have an account? Surely she did, even without a family ring, she must have been able to open an account, right? His stomach knotted at the thought of her rejecting her monthly dowry.

Finally, the goblin handed Viktor a small, enchanted key, its bow shaped like a dragon, and a stack of blank cheques. "Your account is now active, Mr. Krum," he said, his voice almost friendly. "You may access your account any time you want."

Viktor thanked the goblin and pocketed the key.

He made his way toward the village's only jewelry store. The shop was a humble establishment, to say the least, its exterior modest and unassuming. Viktor had to duck slightly to pass through the entrance, the bell above the door announcing his arrival.

The interior of the store was cramped, with glass cases displaying an array of trinkets and baubles. The jewelry was simpler than what Viktor was accustomed to seeing on his mother. In fact, he couldn't remember ever seeing her wear anything the store had to offer, yet again his mother only wore the finest dwarf-crafted pieces.

As he perused the selection, the store owner, a portly man with a bushy mustache, emerged from the back room. His eyes lit up with recognition, and his demeanor shifted from indifferent to ingratiating in an instant.

"Mr Krum, as I live and breathe!" the man exclaimed, extending a hand. "It's an honor to have you in my shop! I must say, you played a splendid game at the World Cup. A real shame about the outcome, but you did your country proud."

Viktor offered a curt nod. "Dank you."

The shopkeeper, undeterred by Viktor's reserved nature, leaned forward with a conspiratorial grin. "What can I do for you today, Mr. Krum? Are you in the market for something special?"

He cleared his throat. "I am looking for a courting gift," his gaze scanned the assortment of jewelry before him.

The shopkeeper's eyes gleamed with interest. "Ah, courting, is it? A very special occasion indeed. Let me show you some of our finest pieces."

As the man bustled about, unlocking cases and presenting various items, Viktor couldn't help but feel underwhelmed. Viktor's eyes roamed over the array of jewelry spread out before him on the velvet cloth. He was a man accustomed to making swift, decisive choices, yet here he was, hesitating.

Nothing seemed worthy of her.

The jewelry, while peculiar in its own right, lacked the grandeur and sophistication he was used to. He found himself doubting if coming here was the right decision. Surely his mother would have picked something better. That however would have required that he actually tell his mother about Hermione. But Elizaveta Krum would have made Viktor wait until she settled things for his courtship, Viktor though, was not going to wait.

With a resigned sigh, Viktor pointed to several pieces that caught his eye. "I'll take these," he said.

The shopkeeper's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "All of them, sir?" he asked, his gaze darting between the selected items and Viktor's stoic expression.

"Yes," Viktor confirmed with a nod. "All of them."

The man's surprise quickly gave way to a wide, accommodating smile. "Of course, Mr Krum! A generous choice indeed. You're going to make the lady a lucky witch!" He began to carefully wrap each piece in delicate tissue paper, his hands moving with practiced precision. "That'll be five hundred galleons, sir."

Viktor withdrew a stack of parchments the goblins had given him. "Here," he handed one to the portly wizard.

"Thank you so much, sir!"

Had he made a mistake with the total? Viktor looked over at the wizard who was grinning ear to ear as he clenched the paper. The Seeker sighed. Was he really going to give Hermione such… cheap jewels as a courting gift?

With the jewelry now securely stowed in his pocket, Viktor bid the shopkeeper a curt goodbye and stepped back out into the bustling streets.

He then made his way to the edge of the village, where the cobblestone lanes gave way to a gentle slope leading up to a hill blanketed in a patchwork of autumn leaves.

As he ascended the hill, Viktor's thoughts were a whirlwind of anticipation and doubt. What if Hermione didn't share his feelings? What if she thought the gifts was too much or too overwhelming? Gods, what if she thought they weren't enough? What if muggle courting rituals required specific gifts?

He murmured a time charm for the umpteenth time, a knot of anticipation tightening in his chest.

Then he caught sight of her, swiftly moving up the hill, Pure-blood witches simply did not run. Yet here she was, running towards him with a reckless abandon that made his heart race.

Viktor's breath caught in his throat as Hermione drew closer. She was wearing a pair of those Muggle fitted trousers that hugged her curves, and a soft, knitted shirt that clung to her figure. His eyes couldn't help but travel over her body, taking in the gentle swell of her hips and the way the fabric draped across her chest.

A flush crept up Viktor's neck as he forced himself to look away, trying to focus on her face instead of her appealing body. But even then, he couldn't help but notice the way her eyes sparkled with excitement, the way her lips curved into a bright smile.

"Viktor!"

Without warning, she launched herself into his arms. The force of her impact nearly knocked him off balance, but he held firm, wrapping his arms tightly around her. As she leaned in, her warmth surrounded him, her breath against his skin, leaving him momentarily breathless.

"You're incredibly stupid, you know that?" Hermione said.

Viktor chuckled, the sound rumbling deep within his chest. He had never been more confused and happy at the same time.

The bond ignited, coursing through Viktor's veins like a warm, pulsating energy, lighting up his soul and body. It felt as though his very being was tuned to hers. As her warmth seeped into his body, his cock quickly hardened. It was both exhilarating and slightly frightening how much her body affected him.

Heat crept up his face. This was not the time nor the place, yet his groin seemed to have a mind of its own. Hermione was so close, her scent enveloping him—a mix of parchment, ink, and something uniquely her. It was intoxicating, and he found himself drawing in a deep breath.

He should let her go, and be a proper gentleman.

Should.

But it had been a week since he last saw her, so he allowed himself this guilty pleasure.

With a gentle tug, Viktor pulled Hermione even closer, his eyes roaming over her face. Her skin was flushed from the run, and her lips parted slightly as she caught her breath. Gods, she was beautiful. There was a fierceness to her beauty, that called to something deep within him. It made him feel like he was breathing for the first time after days of endless training.

"Her-my-oh-knee, hello."

"Hello," she replied, her eyes meeting his sending his heart racing.

Stop touching her, it's not proper.

Stupidly emboldened by the surprise hug and semi-hard erection, Viktor reached out to tuck a stray curl behind her ear.

"Beautiful," he murmured, allowing himself to finally get lost in the depths of her eyes. They were a rich, chocolate brown, flecked with gold in the sunlight, and they held a world of intelligence and kindness that he found himself wanting to explore. "You are like davn, bringing light everyvhere."

Hermione's blush deepened and she glanced away. "Um, thank you."

Viktor's lips curled into a small smile. How funny was it that all it took was one hug? One hug and 17 years of pure-blood teachings flew out the window. One hug and his world was shaken so much that he didn't know if he was standing, soaring through the skies, or still wrapped in her arms.

"Vhy vhere you running?" he asked.

"I didn't want to be late," Hermione replied, her eyes flickering back to his. "Being on time is being late, in my book."

Viktor chuckled softly. She was so different from any witch he had ever known. A pure-blood witch would have been late and expected others to wait on her. But not her.

"You did not haff to run. For you I vould vait an forever if I could see your face for a minute."

"Oh." Hermione's eyes widened slightly and her lips darted. It was a look that made his heart beat even faster, a look that made him want to say more, to do more, to show her just how much she meant to him.

He held back, knowing that he needed to be careful. But he knew for her, he would brave the storm. For her, he would defy the expectations of his family and his world. For her, he would do anything and all it took was one hug.

As they stood atop the hill, the wind whipping around them, Viktor couldn't help but notice the direction from which Hermione had come. She had been running from the outskirts of town.

"Did you come from castle?" he asked.

"Ah no, I was with Harry,". Her gaze momentarily shifted to the outskirts.

A twinge of jealousy stabbed at Viktor's chest, but he pushed it aside. Potter was her friend.

Just a friend.

Viktor hesitated, unsure of whether to voice his concerns about her safety near the boy wonder. He didn't want to come across as possessive or controlling, but the idea of Hermione having been near danger - near the dragons - made his stomach twist with worry. So he bit his tongue instead.

"I see. Potter is good friend, yes?" He carefully emphasized the word 'friend.'

"Ah, yes, but I don't want to talk about Harry," Hermione said quickly. "If that's okay with you."

It was more than okay.

Hermione licked her pink, plump lips nervously. His gaze was drawn to the movement, and for a moment, his eyes lingered on her mouth.

"I-I um actually wanted to talk about us."

Viktor's heart skipped a beat. He cocked an eyebrow. "Us?" he repeated and instantly found that he liked the way that sounded.

The curly-haired witch nodded, her eyes locked onto his.

"I spoke to Ginny about... about you courting me," she admitted, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink.

"And wot did Miss Veasley say?" He asked curious as to what the redhead witch told the brunet.

Hermione's blush deepened, and she glanced away for a moment before meeting his gaze once more. "She said... she said that you asked for her blessing to court me."

"That is right," he confirmed. "That is my intention... if you vill haff me."

Hermione didn't reply immediately. Instead, she took his hand and led him towards a secluded spot under an ancient oak tree.

He was nervous, more nervous than he had ever been on the Quidditch pitch. A wave of dread hit him hard. By the Gods, was she going to reject him? That was the only explanation. She was going to let him down gently. That was the only reason why she wouldn't reply.

They sat down in the shade of the oak tree, the rustling of the leaves above them a soft counterpoint to the pounding of Viktor's heart. He kept his eyes fixed on the distant rooftops of the town, unable to bring himself to look at her. He didn't want to see the rejection in her eyes, didn't want to witness the moment when his hopes came crashing down around him. He wouldn't beg her.

No.

He probably would. And as much as he wanted to feel pathetic about it, he simply found that he couldn't.

"Viktor," she said softly, her voice cutting through the silence.

He forced himself to look at her, to meet her gaze. Her brown eyes were soft, like gentle autumn leaves, inviting and warm.

Oh, yeah, no,he was not above begging.

His heart pounded in his chest as he waited for her response.

"I'm really happy you want to be with me."

Relief flooded him, then vanished – a cold wave of dread crashing down in its place. There was a 'but' coming, he could feel it in the pit of his stomach.

"But," she continued, "I can't court you."

His heart sank. All he could manage was a strangled, "Mhm."

The world spun, his breath ripping through his lungs in ragged gasps. It felt like a Bludger to the gut, knocking the wind from him, leaving him dizzy and disoriented.

Fuck. He rather be hit by one.. or ten than hear her rejection.

Hermione squeezed his hands. "Viktor, listen to me," she implored, her eyes locked onto his. "I can't support such sexist courting traditions. And even if I wanted to, I can't. I'm not a pure-blood."

The words were a knife to his heart, each syllable twisting the blade deeper. He had never given her status much thought or importance, right until she uttered those words.

Her face flushed red, standing out against his pale complexion. He scowled, the pain and confusion bubbling to the surface. Hermione's fingertips ghosted over his creased brows.

"Viktor, I want to be with you," she said, then bit her lip." Well, get to know you better, that is. Muggles call it 'dating' – it's more casual, a chance to be around each other, it allows us to spend time together without all the pressure and expectations of pure-blood courting."

Viktor's heart sank deeper. Dating? Without the promise of marriage? The concept baffled him. Did she not want to formally be with him?

"So, you just...spend time together? No promise of union?" he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Hermione nodded. "Exactly! It's a way for people to get to know each other before deciding if they want a more serious relationship."

Viktor nodded, his scowl deepening. He didn't like how excited she seemed about the idea. "But dat is...hov do you say...cheap? Meaningless?"

"It's not cheap! Viktor," Hermione said. "It's about finding someone you're truly compatible with." She rolled her eyes. "Instead of just marrying the first pure-blooded witch your family throws your way so she can start popping out pure-blood little heirs!"

Her words stung, hitting too close to home. He didn't have enough fingers to count the times his parents had told him it was his responsibility to sire heirs. He clenched his jaw, swallowing the lump of bitterness that rose in his throat.

"At home, courtship is special," he said, his voice low and strained. "It is serious."

"I know Muggle courting is different, but that doesn't mean it's not serious," she defended. "Dating helps you discover what you truly want in a partner, rather than just going along with what your family sets up for you!"

Viktor wanted to argue, to defend the traditions that had been instilled in him since birth. But as he looked into Hermione's warm, earnest eyes, he found his resolve wavering.

"Perhaps," he conceded reluctantly. "But I do not like dis 'dating.' It seems...dishonorable. Disrespectful to a vitch's virtue."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Disrespectful? How so?"

"If you are not serious, you go from vizard to vizard, giving pieces of yourself avay until there is nothing left for your husband," Viktor explained, his accent thickening. "It cheapens relationship. The vitch should be cherished and protected not go from one person to another."

Her brown eyes flashed with anger. "See! That's exactly what I mean by sexist!" She inhaled deeply. "And it's not like that!" Her face soured and her jaw clenched. "Based on your upbringing though, it probably looks like that. But dating doesn't have to be that way at all. It's about finding someone you connect with, someone you can share everything with – mind, and um, body, sometimes."

Viktor felt his cheeks flush at her words. He shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware of how close they were sitting. But he couldn't help it, his body naturally drifted towards hers.

"So you vould...be intimate vith multiple vizards?" he asked, unable to keep his curiosity down. Did Hermione share her affections with other wizards? Would be have to compete for her attention? Did he want to?

Fuck.

Well, good thing he always played to win.

Hermione's eyes widened. "What? No, of course not! You could, but no! I mean not me! At least, not the way you're thinking." She paused, chewing on her lower lip. "Physical intimacy is...well, it's a very personal choice. Most people wait until they're in a committed, monogamous relationship before taking that step or at least until they are official." Her face broke into a smile. "But that's the beauty of dating is that you can choose!"

"Wot do you mean 'official'?

"Official as in boyfriend and girlfriend."

Viktor felt a knot forming in the pit of his stomach as Hermione explained the concept of "boyfriends and girlfriends." It seemed like such a casual, frivolous way to approach something as sacred as courtship.

"So, you spend time together, get to know one another, and then...vot? You become 'boyfriend and girlfriend'?" he asked, unable to keep the skepticism out of his voice.

Hermione nodded. "Essentially, yes. It's a way of making your romantic intentions clear without the pressure of an immediate commitment like marriage."

Viktor frowned. "But...is that not commitment?"

"Well, yes and no," Hermione replied. "You're committing to exploring the relationship further, but it's not seen as a permanent, binding arrangement, like the one you find in pure-blood courting. If things don't work out, you can simply...end it."

The very notion of just "ending" a courtship made Viktor recoil.

"That seems..." He struggled to find the right word. "Dishonorable."

"I understand how it might look like that to you," she said softly. "But in the Muggle world, it's a way to safeguard each other's feelings. By pacing ourselves and being upfront about our intentions, we prevent any misunderstandings or false hopes."

Viktor ran a hand through his hair, mulling over her words. He could see the logic in her explanation, even if it didn't quite align with his values and beliefs. Still, the idea of courting Hermione in such a casual, noncommittal way left him feeling uneasy.

"So, ve vould be...boyfriend and girlfriend?" he asked, testing the unfamiliar words on his tongue.

Hermione smiled, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly. "If that's what you want. We could start by just...dating. Going out, spending time together, getting to know each other better."

Viktor's chest tightened at the thought of being able to spend more time with Hermione, to truly get to know the brilliant, fiery witch who had captured his heart so completely. And yet, a part of him rebelled against the idea of doing so without the weight of tradition and commitment behind it.

Did she not want to be with him? Or did she think that he would want to leave her?

"And this 'dating'..." He paused, searching for the right words. "It is not serious? Not...permanent?"

Hermione squeezed his hand, her thumb tracing soothing circles over his calloused skin. "Well, it can be, if we both want it." She bit her lip and pushed a loose curl behind her ear. "If we do, then we become boyfriend and girlfriend."

The thought of courting Hermione in this casual, muggle way still scraped against him. It felt like a shortcut. A disrespect to the traditions that ran deep in his bones. He wouldn't dream of letting anything jeopardize her reputation, especially after he was gone.

And yet, as he looked into Hermione's warm, earnest eyes, he found himself wavering. This was a witch worth fighting for, worth breaking free from traditions and expectations. If this was the path he needed to take to be with her, to truly know her and earn her affection, then so be it.

"I do not like this 'dating,'" he conceded, his voice low and a touch hesitant. "But...for you, Her-my-oh-knee, I vill try."

Her face lit up with a radiant smile, and Viktor felt his heart swell. "Thank you Viktor! That's all I could have asked, that you at least tried."

He had no idea what he was getting himself into, but for the chance to be with this extraordinary witch, he was willing to take the risk.

His brow creased. "Wot about chaperones?" The last thing he needed was to offend her by spending so much time alone with her. However as the bond constantly hummed throughout his skin, he wasn't sure if he was asking for her or him.

She smiled. "We don't need them."

Viktor's eyes widened. "No chaperones?" he repeated, his voice tinged with disbelief. "But...hov your honor stay in good conditions if people know ve are together?"

Alone.

Not that he would do anything to harm her reputation, but people liked to talk. People like Skeeter.

She snorted. "People don't worry about that."

Viktor's brows shot up. She waved her hand in the hair "In the Muggle world that idea is old and sexist. People, women, can do what a man can without being judged, well to some extent, at least."

He wouldn't give in to such impure ideas, though always being alone with Hermione, no prying eyes or chaperones...it sent a thrill of excitement down his spine.

"And this is...okay?"

Hermione nodded, her expression turning more serious. "That's right. In the Muggle world, we believe in giving people the freedom to make their own decisions and own up to the consequences."

"And if the families do not approve?"

"Then you decide what's more important – their approval your happiness."

He hummed, letting the words sink in.

"Zat is..." He trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief. "It is so different from hov ve do zings." Yet here he was, doing exactly that, going against his upbringing, very possibly breaking her mother's heart and unleashing waves of disappointment.

Hermione nodded, a wistful smile playing on her lips. "I know. And I'm sure there are aspects of your traditions that seem just as strange to me."

Viktor watched Hermione closely. "In my vorld, it is normal for vizard to give monthly payment to vitch he is courting," he said, his voice steady despite the tension he felt coiling in his gut.

Hermione's eyes widened. "A dowry?" she echoed, her voice rising in pitch. "You can't be serious! You mean to say that a man must pay a woman to...to court her?"

Viktor shook his head, his expression somber. "Yes. It is a sign she vill be okay vith him."

Hermione's face flushed with anger, her eyes flashing with indignation. "But that's so sexist! "It implies that a woman's affection can be bought. That she can be bought! That she's some sort of commodity to be traded between men. For men!"

Viktor winced at her words. He had known that Hermione would not take kindly to such a tradition, but he had not expected her to be so vehemently opposed to it.

"I understand vhy you might see it zat vay. But in my culture, it is a symbol that man can make her life good. It is to honor the vitch and her family."

Hermione shook her head, her brow furrowed in frustration. "But it's not respectful, Viktor. It's demeaning. It reduces a relationship to a financial transaction, and it places the woman in a position of dependence and inferiority."

A surge of defensiveness clawed its way up Viktor's throat. He forced a deep breath into his lungs, searching for a response that wouldn't cause a rift between them. How could he let her know that the money was a way to establish that the wizard was able to provide a good life for the witch? To ensure her family that she was in good hands.

"I agree that old rules might not seem fair. But they're really important. They are very old and they a big part of vho ve are."

Hermione's expression softened slightly, though her eyes still held a spark of defiance. "Viktor, I appreciate your respect for tradition. But sometimes, tradition can hold us back. We should be striving for a future where everyone has equal opportunities, including who they choose to spend time with."

He clenched his jaw. While he tried to understand her, these were things he believed in.

Well, at least that answered the question of whether she would be okay with a dowry. He took a deep breath and met her eyes. "Ve also do gifts."

"Give. Give gifts," she corrected him with a small smile.

"Yes, during courtship, it is normal for the vizard to give the vitch gifts."

"That actually sounds lovely. Very chivalrous."

Viktor's heart warmed at her reaction, a surge of hope rising within him that some of his traditions held some appeal for her.

"That is hov it is done in my vorld, Her-my-oh-knee." He swallowed, " I hope you vant to learn more someday."

Hermione swallowed hard, her gaze locked onto his. "It sounds..." She paused, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips. "It's a bit… outdated, but it's part of who you are Viktor, and though I think it's archaic and sexist, I want to learn more about your world. More about you."

With a gentle smile, he lifted her hand to his lips, brushing a soft kiss against her knuckles.

"So ve dating nov?"

A blush warmed Hermione's cheeks as she giggled, the sound soft and delightful. "I guess this could be called our first date."

A warmth blossomed in Viktor's chest at her words, and he found himself grinning like a besotted fool.

He reached into the pocket of his robes and withdrew a small, velvet pouch. "I haff something for you, Her-my-oh-knee," he murmured, his heart pounding in his chest.

Hermione's eyes widened as he opened the pouch. A delicate silver necklace tumbled into his palm, and dangling from its chain, a single diamond winked in the sunlight.

"Viktor, it's beautiful," Hermione breathed, her fingers tracing the air above the necklace as if afraid to touch it. "But I can't accept this. It's too much."

Viktor felt a pang of disappointment, but he quickly pushed it aside.

Different customs, he told himself to ease the sting.

"Please, Her-my-oh-knee. This is my vay. You vant to learn no?"

Hermione chewed her lower lip, her brow furrowed. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she nodded. "Alright," she conceded. "I'll accept, under one condition."

He smiled. "Anything."

"You have to transfigure that diamond into a Snitch. It would be nice to have something that's…. more you and not so flashy" She finished with a radiant smile.

"A snitch?" The Seeker titled his head. "You like quidditch nov?" He asked with a lopsided smile.

"Um, no," she played with the hem of her shirt. "But I um, like something else." She glanced at him and her blush deepened before she darted her eyes away.

He smiled a wide smile that hurt his cheeks. With a soft chuckle, he nodded. "As you vish, Her-my-oh-knee."

Withdrawing his wand, Viktor focused his magic on the diamond, envisioning the intricate details of a Snitch in his mind's eye. With a few deft flicks of his wrist, the gemstone began to shift and contort, its facets rearranging themselves into the familiar shape.

When the transfiguration was complete, Viktor held the necklace, the tiny Snitch glinting in the sunlight as it fluttered its delicate wings.

"Perfect," Hermione breathed.

Without warning, she reached out and plucked the necklace from Viktor's grasp, her fingers brushing against his palm in a tantalizing caress.

She seemed to sense the shift in energy as well, her eyes growing wide and luminous as she gazed up at him. Slowly, almost reverently, she lifted the necklace and draped it around her neck, her fingers fumbling with the clasp.

"Could you...?"

Viktor swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. With trembling fingers, he reached out and gently brushed Hermione's hair aside, savoring the silken texture of her curls against his skin. Her skin was soft and warm beneath his touch, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through his veins straight to his cock.

As he leaned in to fasten the clasp, his senses were overwhelmed by the intoxicating scent of her.

He fumbled with the clasp of the necklace, his fingers clumsy and uncoordinated. The task should have been simple. It was simple, but with Hermione standing so close, her presence enveloping him like a tangible force, it felt as though he were attempting to assemble a snitch with gloved hands.

As he worked, Viktor allowed his magic to seep out, a gentle, probing tendril that reached out to caress Hermione's own magic. The bond flared to life. He could feel her magic responding in kind, a warm, pulsating energy that wrapped around his own like a silk ribbon.

The bond buzzed with vitality, pulsing and flowing with a power engulfing them. He stepped closer, his chest almost touching her back. His fingers grazed the side of her neck.

Hermione let out a soft gasp. His breath hitched in his throat as he watched her, the sight of her so affected by his touch sending a thrill of desire through him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the clasp of the necklace clicked into place. His fingers lingered on the nape of her neck for a moment longer, savoring the feel of her skin against his. Then, he withdrew his hand, taking a step back to put some much-needed distance between them.

Do not keep touching her.

I am a gentleman.

The curly-haired witch's eyes fluttered open, a look of dazed wonder in her gaze. She reached up, her fingers brushing against the Snitch where it lay against her chest. "Thank you."

Viktor swallowed hard, his voice trapped somewhere in his chest. He could only shake his head in response, his eyes locked onto hers.

For a moment, they stood there in silence. Viktor could feel the bond thrumming between them. It was intoxicating, the way their magics intertwined. He wanted more. He wanted her. He wanted to run his fingers, his tongue along the curve of her neck until they reached those delicious-looking lips.

No.

No.

You are a gentleman, Viktor. Hands to yourself.

The bond between them was too powerful. All it would take is one misstep and he would lose himself.

Hermione seemed to sense his inner turmoil, her brow furrowing slightly as she studied his face. "Viktor? Are you alright?"

He shook his head, though he was far from certain. "Yes," he replied, his voice hoarse. "I am...vell."

"Are you sure?"

Gods no.

"Da."

He watched her, his eyes tracing the gentle curve of her cheek, the soft fullness of her lips, the graceful arch of her neck. Every line of her body called out to him that he found increasingly difficult to resist.

You are not a beast, you are a gentleman.

Clearing his throat, "Ve should... go to town nov," he suggested, his voice rough with the effort it took to maintain his composure.

If he stayed here alone with this beautiful, tantalizing witch, the bond would end up pushing his already frail limits over the edge.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and luminous. "Are you sure you'll be okay with all the attention?" She crinkled her nose. "You're... well, you."

"I vill be alright," he assured her. "I am use to fev curious eyes."

"Used," she corrected.

"Used to," he parroted.

A flicker of amusement danced in Hermione's eyes, and she shook her head slightly, her curls bouncing around her face. "I suppose you're right," she conceded. "But why didn't you take a Polyjuice Potion? It would have made things so much easier for you."

Viktor's gaze dropped to the ground, his mind flashing back to the conversation he'd had with Karkaroff. "I could not get it."

"Oh. That's a pity."

Viktor shrugged. "I vill be okay " he replied, "I am vorried about you, Her-my-oh-knee," he admitted. "I do not vant people looking at you."

She offered him a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about me, " she said, brushing off his concerns with a snort. "No one in their right mind will think we're together. They'll just assume I'm a crazy fan stalking you."

Viktor's brow furrowed. The thought that she would think that didn't sit right with him.

"Her-" Viktor was about to call out to her when he noticed that she was staring off into the distance, biting that pink lip of hers.

"Actually, I have an idea for you to go unnoticed. Well as unnoticeable, as a um, bloke your size can be." Her eyes raked over his chest. "If you are okay with it of course."

.He cocked an eyebrow, beckoning her to continue.

"You can go undercover."

"Wot?"

"Unnoticed."

"Hov?" He stared at her with curious eyes as she withdrew her wand.

"A disguise."

He watched with a mixture of curiosity and amusement as Hermione pulled a small, white square from her pocket. With a flick of her wand, she divided the handkerchief into two equal parts.

"Wot are you doing, Her-my-oh-knee?"

"Making you a jumper and a baseball cap."

Viktor had no idea what a 'jumper' or a 'baseball cap' was, but he trusted Hermione. He watched in silent awe as she transfigured the first piece of fabric into a garment he had never seen before – a 'jumper,' she called it. It was a strange, Muggle contraption, with sleeves and a front opening and a hood that swung from the back.

Next, she turned her attention to the second piece of fabric, transforming it into what she referred to as a 'baseball cap.' It was a peculiar headpiece with a stiff brim and an adjustable strap at the back. Viktor had never seen anything like it in the wizarding world, but he had to admit, it was clever.

"There," Hermione said, holding up the jumper and cap with a triumphant smile. "Now you can walk around Hogsmeade without being recognized."

Viktor took the items from her, examining them. "Very good Her-my-oh-knee," he said in a low voice. "You vere very good."

Her cheeks flushed a delightful shade of pink, and she ducked her head, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "Thank you," she murmured.

His gaze lingered on her face. He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to reach out and touch her, to run his fingers through her wild, curly hair and feel its texture against his skin.

That's not what a gentleman would do.

Clearing his throat, he tore his gaze away from her and focused his attention on the jumper in his hands. "So... I put this on?" he asked, his voice sounding a bit more gruff than he had intended.

Hermione nodded, her eyes darting up to meet his before quickly flitting away again. "Yes," she said, her voice slightly breathless. "You'll need to take off your tunic first."

Viktor's heart began to pound in his chest. He knew he shouldn't be doing this – it was far too intimate, far too scandalous – but the sight of Hermione's blown pupils and the way she had unconsciously licked her lips before turning away from him made him bold. Or stupid.

With a nonchalant shrug, he reached down and pulled his tunic over his head, revealing his bare chest beneath. He heard Hermione's sharp intake of breath and couldn't help but smirk.

"Can you help me?" he asked, holding up the jumper hoping to sound clueless. It didn't make a genius to know how the garment worked, but he would rather have her 'help' him.

He knew he was playing with fire, but he couldn't seem to help himself. There was something incredibly arousing about the way Hermione's eyes widened at the sight of his bare skin, the way her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink.

"Of course," she said, her voice trembling slightly as she stepped forward. "Just... um, put your arms through the sleeves first."

Viktor did as he was told, sliding his arms into the sleeves of the jumper. He could feel the warmth of Hermione's hands through the fabric as she adjusted the garment, her fingers brushing against his stomach in a way that sent a jolt of electricity coursing through his veins.

He watched her closely, his eyes darkening with desire as he took in the lustful gaze she was trying – and failing – to hide. Her hands were shaking slightly, and he could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest with each breath she took.

"There," she said, stepping back. "You look...Muggle."

Viktor chuckled "Muggle," he repeated, his eyes locked onto hers. "I do not think I haff ever been called that before."

Hermione offered him a shy smile. "Well, there's a first time for everything," she said, her voice steadier now. "Now, let's get that cap on you."

Viktor stood still, his breath hitching as Hermione reached up to place the baseball cap on his head. Her fingers were gentle, her touch feather-light as she adjusted the brim, ensuring it sat at just the right angle. The pads of her fingers lingered on his scalp, sending shivers of delight cascading down his spine.

Her touch was electric, igniting a fire within him that he had been trying so desperately to suppress. The bond between them pulsed with a potent mix of desire and longing, urging him to claim her lips as his.

As she adjusted the cap, her fingers brushed against the tops of his ears, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Viktor. His cock, already half-hard from the feel of her hands on his body, throbbed painfully against the confines of his trousers, desperate for more of her touch.

By the Gods, he was a gentleman.

Hermione, though seemed oblivious to the effect she was having on him, her focus entirely on the task at maybe she was just pretending not to notice, even as a subtle blush tinged her cheeks with pink.

Viktor could hardly stand it. The need to feel her, to taste her, was overwhelming. He wanted to bury his hands in her wild, curly hair and pull her close, to capture those luscious lips with his own and explore the sweet recesses of her mouth.

Hermione was not like the other witches he had known – the ones who threw themselves at him because of his fame and fortune. She was different. She was special. He was 'dating' her. And he would be damned if he did anything to jeopardize the fragile bond that was forming between them.

Viktor managed to rein in his desires, focusing instead on the warmth of Hermione's hands against his skin. It was a small comfort, but it was enough to keep the beast within him at bay – for now, at least until he could go to his room, like the beast he apparently was.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Hermione stepped back to survey her handiwork. "There," she said, her voice slightly breathless. "You look...good."

Viktor's heart skipped a beat at her words. The look in her eyes – a mixture of admiration and something else, something deeper made him grin.

"You look better."

"You don't—"

"I do. You are beautiful, like a delicate and vonderful flover after vinter."

"Charmer," she admonished, though the smile on her face revealed her delight.

He took a step closer, his gaze locked onto hers. He could see the rapid fluttering of her pulse in the delicate hollow of her throat, and could hear the soft, shallow breaths that escaped her parted lips.

Slowly, deliberately, he reached out and took her hands in his, pulling them away from the hat and bringing them to his lips. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to each of her wrists, his eyes never leaving hers.

Hermione gasped at the contact. But she did not pull away. Instead, she leaned into his touch, her body swaying towards his.

Viktor sensed his magic extending toward hers.

The world around them seemed to fade into the background, leaving nothing but the two of them and the invisible thread that bound them together.

But then, reality came crashing back in. They were standing in the middle of a hill behind town. Anyone could see them, and the last thing Viktor wanted was to put Hermione's reputation at risk.

He released her hands and took a step back, breaking the spell that had momentarily ensnared them. "ve should go," he said, his voice rough with unspent desire.

Hermione nodded, her eyes still dark with need. "Yes," she agreed, "we should."

As they made their way to the town, his large hand was only centimeters away from hers. With each step, their hands brushed lightly against each other, the feathery touches igniting a cascade of sparks that tingled up his arm and down his spine. It was an effort not to reach out and capture her hand fully in his, to explore the warmth of her palm and interlace their fingers. But he held himself back. His pure-blood upbringing taught him that public displays of affection, especially among unmarried couples were an unsavory sight.

Viktor couldn't deny the thrill each time they touched, though. It was like his body instinctively sought hers. He snuck a glance at Hermione, who seemed lost in her own thoughts, her rosy cheeks matching the color of her lips.

As they walked, Hermione caught Viktor off guard by reaching for his hand. Her touch was gentle, unlike the sturdy grip he used while flying on his broom. Hermione must have noticed his surprise because she turned to him with a smile that could melt snow.

"This is what you do on dates," she whispered.

A date.

He found he quite liked the idea of dating offered a level of closeness and casual interaction that wouldn't be accepted in pure-blood circles.. He particularly relished the sensation of holding Hermione's hand, her fingers fitting snugly into his larger palm.

Walking along the cobblestone path, Viktor couldn't ignore the double-takes from people passing by. Some students even paused, giving him curious looks before moving on.

The loose jumper and baseball cap helped him blend in, avoiding the usual stares and whispers that accompanied him. In Bulgaria, wearing these clothes would have made him stand out even more, but here, it seemed like jumpers and baseball caps were common sights.

They stopped in front of a very small bookstore, Book Hog. The small shop was nearly empty, the quiet hush of pages turning and the faint scent of ink and parchment filling the air. Hermione's eyes lit up as she perused the crammed shelves.

Viktor couldn't help but admire Hermione as she moved gracefully through the shop, her Muggle pants - hugging her curves in a way that made his heart race. The soft fabric clung to the gentle swell of her hips and the delicate shape of her rear, and Viktor found himself captivated, unable to tear his eyes away.

As Hermione bent down to examine a lower shelf, Viktor's brows rose. The jeans accentuated the seductive contours of her body. He knew he should avert his gaze, that it was improper to ogle a lady in such a manner, but the pull of their bond was strong, at least that's what he told himself as he found himself.

She straightened up, a book in hand, and Viktor quickly averted his eyes, hoping she hadn't noticed his shameless admiration.

The witch then reached up for a book perched on a high shelf, the hem of her jumper lifting slightly to reveal the small of her back. Viktor clenched his teeth as he watched her stretch. Without thinking, he stepped forward, his chest grazing her back as he effortlessly retrieved the book for her, blocking her from a passing wizard. Hermione gasped softly at the close contact, but she didn't pull away, nor did she chide him for invading her space.

For a moment, they remained in that position, his hand still resting on the book as Hermione looked over her shoulder at him. Their faces were mere inches apart, and Viktor could see the flecks of gold in her chocolate-colored eyes. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, the bond, he liked to think, was the one responsible for filling his head with ideas of kissing her.

"Th-thank you."

He smirked, looking down at her flushed face. "Any time."

Viktor watched with fascination as Hermione's fingers danced over the spines of the books, occasionally pulling one out to inspect it. He found himself smiling at her love for books. He loved watching as her eyes lit up when she found a book she liked.

When Hermione finally selected a book—a tome on the history of magical runes—Viktor insisted on purchasing it for her. She protested, but he wouldn't hear of it. He wanted to do this for her. He shamefully wanted her to think of him whenever she picked up the book. Plus, this was something he could do for her that would follow customs.

At the checkout counter, Viktor instructed the shop owner to charge the book to his Gringotts account, ignoring Hermione's arguments. He accepted the neatly wrapped parcel.

"Thank you, but you didn't have to do that, you know."

"I vanted to," he replied. "Books make you happy, yes?"

She smiled. "Yes."

He returned her smile. "Then, I vill buy you many books."

Hermione's cheeks flushed. "Thank you," she uttered in a low voice. She intertwined their hands and he kissed her knuckles, thankful that he could do so while they were on a 'date.'

As they exited the shop, Hermione turned to him. "Viktor, would you mind if we stopped by Honeyduke's?"

Viktor felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips. "Anything you vish."

He trailed behind Hermione as they stepped into Honeydukes sweet shop, the scent of chocolate and sugar wafting through the air. He took in the dazzling array of confections that filled the shelves, from towering chocolate frogs to colorful jelly slugs.

Hermione's face lit up with delight, and Viktor couldn't help but be charmed by the way her eyes sparkled with childlike wonder. She tugged on his sleeve, pulling him towards a display of intricately decorated sugar quills.

"Oh, Viktor, you have to try these!" she exclaimed, her fingers gently caressing the delicate pastries. "They're simply divine."

He watched as Hermione's small hands delicately picked up one of the ornate sugar quills, her fingers tracing the intricate designs with reverence. A flush crept up his neck as he found himself transfixed by the gentle movements, his mind conjuring up images he knew he shouldn't be entertaining.

As Hermione busied herself selecting an assortment of sweets, Viktor's gaze drifted back to the sugar quills. He couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to trail those delicate pastries along Hermione's soft skin, to watch as the sugar melted on her lips.

"Viktor?"

"Da?"

"I'm going to look over here, okay?" She pointed to another section of the store.

He shook his head and watched her walk to the chocolate section.

Viktor was drawn to a nearby display of British sweets. His attention was captured by a package of "Fizzing Whizbees," their floating candies mesmerizing in their transparent container. He tentatively picked up the package, examining the label.

"Have you tried those before?" Hermione's voice called out.

"No," Viktor admitted, his brow furrowing. "Ve don't haff these in Bulgaria."

"Oh, you simply must try them! They're absolutely delightful." She reached out and gently took the package from his hands.

"You like sweets, yes?" Viktor asked, a teasing note to his voice.

Hermione's cheeks flushed a delicate pink, and she averted her gaze. "Well, yes, I suppose I do have a bit of a sweet tooth," she admitted, her fingers fidgeting with the package of Fizzing Whizbees. "It's... it's caused a bit of trouble with my parents, actually."

"Trouble? What do you mean?"

Hermione sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Well, you see, my parents are both dentists. They're very concerned about proper dental hygiene, and they've always tried to limit my sugar intake." She paused, worrying her lower lip between her teeth.

"Dentists?" he repeated. The word sounded familiar.

"Oh, well, a dentist is a teeth doctor, er, healer."

"Hov do they clean teeth vithout magic?"

"They have special tools and instruments that they use to manually remove plaque and tartar from the teeth."

Viktor cocked an eyebrow. That sounded quite bothersome

"But spells clean teeth."

"Well, yes, but it is still not quite the same," she shrugged her shoulders. "Which is why my parents don't agree to me eating sweets, even though I have never gotten a cavity."

He smiled.

"I see. Karkaroff could use dentist," Viktor casually commented as he scanned the rest of the the displays.

Viktor watched as Hermione's eyes crinkled with mirth, her laughter filling the air around them.

"I can't deny that," she said through fits of laughter.

The sound was like music to his ears.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he drank in the sight of her. Hermione's openness about her upbringing, her easy way of talking about her dentist parents, filled him with a quiet happiness.

He wanted to ask more about her parents asking more but thought it might be too soon.

"Well, I'm all done," she announced as her laughter died down. "I'll be right back, let me go pay."

Instinctively, Viktor stepped forward, placing a hand on her arm to stop her. "Allov me."

Hermione's brow furrowed, and she shook her head. "No, Viktor, I can't let you pay. It wouldn't be right."

Viktor cocked an eyebrow in confusion.

Then without another word, Hermione made her way to the counter. A second later she returned.

"Here," she said, pressing the package into his hands. "I want you to have them."

Viktor opened his mouth to protest, but Hermione raised a hand, silencing him. "No, Viktor. Let me do this for you. Please, just accept it."

"Zank you," he said, hesitating briefly before taking her hands and pressing a kiss to the inside of her palm, a gesture he knew was intimate but couldn't resist. He gently took the packages from her and shrunk them to fit them in his pocket.

Hermione beamed up at him, her smile lighting up her entire face. He wanted to reach out and touch her.

I am a gentleman.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the unmistakable sound of her stomach rumbling. He glanced down at her, horrified he had let her get hungry.

"Hungry?"

Hermione's cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink, and she let out a soft chuckle, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I suppose I am," she admitted. "I didn't realize how late it had gotten."

"Come, let us go eat," Viktor said as he led her through the exit.

Viktor's gaze swept over the village, taking in the bustling shops and the throngs of students milling about.

His eyes landed on a rather colorful tea shop across the street, its pastel-colored exterior adorned with a sign that read 'Madam Puddifoot's.' It looked inviting enough, with lace curtains framing the windows and potted plants lining the entrance. It reminded him of his mother and her visits to tea shops.

"Hov about there?" Viktor suggested, pointing towards the tea shop. "It looks... interesting."

Hermione followed his gaze. "Madam Puddifoot's?" she repeated, her brow furrowing slightly. "It's... it's very... pink."

Viktor couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction. "That is bad?"

"No, it's just..." Hermione trailed off, her eyes scanning the tea shop. "It's a bit... much for my taste. But if you'd like to try it, we can."

Viktor could sense her hesitation, and he didn't want their first meal together to be somewhere she felt uncomfortable.

"Wot about there?" He asked tilting his head to a pub called The Three Broomsticks.

A smile spread across Hermione's face. "That sounds perfect, Viktor."

Hand in hand, they approached The Three Broomsticks, its lanterns casting a welcoming glow. Stepping inside, Viktor felt instantly embraced by the cozy ambiance. The pub buzzed with chatter, glasses clinking, and the delicious scent of home-cooked meals wafting through the air.

They spotted an unoccupied table in the corner, away from curious glances. Viktor gallantly pulled out a chair for Hermione.

"Thank you, Viktor," she murmured, taking a seat.

Viktor nodded, taking the seat across from her. He picked up the menu, his eyes scanning the list of dishes.

Hermione, on the other hand, seemed right at home. She perused the menu with a confident smile, her finger tapping against the parchment as she made her selection.

"I recommend the shepherd's pie," she said, looking up at him. "It's one of their specialties."

Viktor closed his menu, deciding to follow her recommendation. "Shepherd's pie it is, then."

As they waited for their food, Viktor found himself captivated by the way Hermione's eyes sparkled in the dim light of the pub. She was so different from the pure-blood witches he had grown up with, so full of life and passion.

Their conversation flowed easily, punctuated by laughter and shared smiles. They talked about everything from their favorite books to their favorite professors. Hermione spoke animatedly about her studies, her eyes lighting up as she discussed her love for arithmancy and charms.

He found himself hanging on her every word, eager to learn more about the fascinating witch sitting across from him.

When their food arrived, they both dug iViktor watched as Hermione took her first bite, moaned and her eyes closed in delight as she savored the taste.

I am a gentleman.

"This is delicious," she said, her voice warm. "I'm glad we decided to come here."

Viktor smiled in agreement, though he was glad for her, not so much the bland food.

As they ate, Viktor felt happy. This was new for him—just enjoying a meal with someone he liked. It was different from the strict rules of pure-blood society, where everything was watched and criticized.

Here, in The Three Broomsticks, he could just be Viktor. Not the famous Quidditch player, not the heir of the Krumov family, but just a young man sharing a meal with a girl he was quickly falling for.

Watching Hermione laugh, talk, and eat, he knew he'd do anything to protect her.

Once they were done with dinner, they stepped into the late afternoon chill. Just as he was about to propose they return to the castle, Hermione's hold on his arm tightened, her fingers gripping his coat.

He followed her gaze and felt a growl of annoyance rise in his throat. There, across the street, was Rita Skeeter, her Quick-Notes Quill in hand as she scanned the crowd with a predatory gleam in her eyes.

Without a word, Hermione tugged on his arm, pulling him towards a narrow alleyway that ran alongside the pub. Viktor paused briefly, glancing at Skeeter, but Hermione's determination prevailed. He followed her into the shadowy alley, where the weak afternoon sunlight barely reached.

Their bodies were pressed together, the alleyway too narrow to accommodate any distance between them. Viktor could feel the heat of Hermione's body, the softness of her curves pressing against him in a way that made him suck in a sharp breath, but the rough brick wall behind him blocked any chance of stepping back.

I am a proper gentleman.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "This... this is not proper."

Hermione looked up at him with those brown wide eyes. "It's not about propriety, Viktor," she said, her voice steady despite their...situation. "Skeeter is like a bloodhound. If she catches even a whiff of a story, she'll hound us relentlessly. It's better if we just wait here until she moves on."

Viktor grunted in response, his gaze dropping to Hermione's lips. He could feel his body responding to her nearness, his cock hardening despite his best efforts to maintain control. He knew he should concentrate on the potential scandal Skeeter could stir up but all he could think about was the way Hermione's breath hitched when their bodies brushed against each other.

I am a gentleman.

He could feel her lovely breasts against his chest and he banged his head against the wall.

Don't think of anything. Don't think of anything.

She moved her head, trying to get a look at Skeeter and her soft breasts pressed harder into his chest. His cock twitched, pressing insistently against the confines of his trousers, and he felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him.

I am a gentleman, not a beast.

I am a gentleman, not a beast.

"I... I should go," he stammered. He grabbed Hermione's shoulders and pushed her away from him. If I stay here, I will devour you. Every inch of you.

He straightened his back gathered all the resolve he could and pushed his back away from the wall.

"Viktor, look at me," she said softly.

He did as she asked, his dark eyes meeting her brown ones.

"I don't want you to go," she whispered. "Please. "Skeeter—she—she might still be out there."

Hermione's movements were small and fidgety, as she closed in their distance, each shift of her body caused her breasts to press more firmly against him, her thighs rubbing against his in a way that was both innocent and maddeningly erotic.

By the Gods, if this was a test, just strike him now.

He was weak. He would happily face Perun than tarnish this delicious, beautiful witch.

Viktor's heart pounded in his chest, his cock throbbing with a desire that bordered on painful. He knew he should be the voice of reason, should be the one to put a stop to this dangerous game they were playing, but he found himself rooted to the spot, helpless to resist the pull of the bond and her shiny lust-filled eyes. And Gods those pink lips.

Hermione shifted her weight, her thighs brushing against his. Her intoxicating scent filled his senses. He could feel the pull of the bond calling to him.

He was a gentleman, raised to respect and protect the women in his life, but at that moment, all he wanted was to give in to the desire that coursed through his veins. He wanted to reach out and touch her, to explore the softness of her skin and the curves of her body. He wanted to claim her as his own, to lose himself in the heat of her.

No.

No.

Viktor tore his gaze away from Hermione's face and focused on the rough brick wall behind her. He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. He could feel the bond pulsing between them, urging him to explore her mouth, her neck, her body.

"I vill see," was all Viktor managed to say. He tried to move, but her small hands reached for his.

"Just-just wait a bit?" She asked, but something about her eyes, and her voice almost sounded like she was imploring him not to go.

I am a gentleman.

He tried to focus on anything but the feel of her body against his, but it was a losing battle. The bond made his skin feel like it was on fire and Hermione's touch was the only way to stop burning, which he found ironic because it was her touches that made his blood hot. His erection was noticeably obvious now. If she were to merely look down she would see how he couldn't control himself.

And then it happened.

Hermione's thigh brushed against his erection, a fleeting touch that sent the bond into a frenzy, causing his magic to escape him.

"mamka mu," (fuck) he exhaled softly.

I am a man.

She froze, her eyes going wide as she realized what she had just done. For a moment, they stood there, silent the only sound was the ragged panting of their breaths.

Viktor's instincts screamed at him to push her away, to put an end to this dangerous game before it was too late. But then Hermione did something that took his breath away. She bit her lower lip, a gesture so unbearably sexy that it made his cock throb with a need he hadn't felt, well actually never. He had never been so needy, so desperate for a few simple touches.

"Spri se (Stop)," he growled, his voice barely recognizable to his own ears.

She swallowed, her dark eyes met his and she tilted her head. "I don't understand Viktor," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. Her gaze dropped to his lips and she darted her tongue out. "What-what do you mean?"

Fuck.

Just taste her. Just once. Claim that pretty little mouth.

Viktor wasn't sure if they were his thoughts or if it was the bond. But he was finding it harder to care.

Before Viktor could respond though, Hermione's thigh brushed against his cock once more, the friction of the movement sending waves of pleasure radiating through his body. His eyes slid shut, his mind racing as he tried to think of anything, anything that would get his raging erection under control. But it was no use. Hermione's nearness, the feel of her body against his, the scent of her skin, her warm, yet cooling magic—it was all too much.

And then he felt her hands on his chest, her fingers splayed wide as she explored the contours of his muscles through the fabric of his tunic.

Viktor's control was hanging by a thread. Not only did he have to fight the urge not to move but he also had to reign in the bond.

His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a drumbeat echoing in his ears. Hermione's touch, her scent, her magic, the sound of her voice—it was all too much. His magic, usually so well-behaved, was now a wild, untamed thing, pulsing and throbbing in time with his heartbeat.

He watched, helpless, as Hermione's gaze dropped to his lips again. Her hands, which had been resting against his chest, now clenched the fabric of his tunic, her fingers curling into the material.

Then the thread snapped.

Viktor inched his hips closer to Hermione's, hoping to scare her, to warn her. A desperate part of him wanted him, pleaded that she be the logical, reasonable one. But instead of pulling away, Hermione's eyes darkened with desire, her thighs lightly bouncing against his as her hands clenched tighter around his shirt.

"Her-my-oh-knee," he growled, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the very air around them.

His hands dashed to her hips, his fingers digging into the supple flesh in a desperate attempt to find some shred of control, for he or her, he wasn't sure.

She moved again, and this time her thigh brushed against his cock so softly and sensually that it left him breathless. His self-control crumbled at that moment, and without thinking, his hand darted to the back of her neck, his fingers entwining in her hair. With a swift motion, he tilted her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze. Their eyes locked in a fierce, passionate stare as the tension between them grew intense.

"Stop," he rasped. His wild magic whirled around them, encasing them in a tempest of palpable energy.

"I—I'm not doing anything."

Her eyes were wide open, her lips slightly parted as she gasped rapidly. Viktor could see the fervor in her gaze, the raw, unfettered passion that paralleled his. The bond throbbed with renewed vigor.

The only thing that stood between him and her now was the baseball cap. The warmth of her breath caressed his lips, and her supple body melted into his.

Viktor's other hand joined the first, both now tangled in her curly brown hair as he held her in place.

"I said stop," he growled.

Hermione's fingers gracefully glided from his chest to his shoulders, then to the nape of his neck. As they traveled, they lightly scraped his skin, causing goosebumps to form. Finally, her fingers reached the brim of his baseball cap, and with a gentle tug, she lifted it from his head.

Her eyes never left his, captivating him, sneering at him in those pools of molten brown mixed with tendrils of gold.

He leaned in closer, his lips hovering over Hermione's, they so close that he could feel the warmth of her breath mingling with his own. Her breathing had become erratic.

But then he stopped.

By the gods, was he really going to kiss her in an alley like some unrefined brute? This was not the way he had been raised. He was a Krumov, heir to a proud and ancient lineage. He was supposed to be a gentleman, not a rake who took advantage of innocent young women in darkened alleyways.

He hated himself in that moment—he almost ruined her. The bond between them was powerful, yes, but it was no excuse for his lack of self-control. He had come dangerously close to compromising Hermione, and that was something he could not forgive himself for.

Viktor pulled away from Hermione, his hands shaking as he gently but firmly held her at arm's length. He maneuvered her as far as he could to the opposite side of the wall, putting much-needed distance between them, only if it were a couple of inches.

He wanted to march out of there, to storm back to the castle and lock himself away in his dormitory. But he knew he couldn't leave, not yet. If Skeeter was still around, the vile witch would surely turn this into some scandalous story that would stick to Hermione forever— ruining her reputation. The thought of Hermione's name being dragged through the mud because of his slip-up made his blood boil with fury.

Viktor drew in a deep breath, steadying himself. With practiced ease, he cast a detection spell, his wand slicing through the air. It was a straightforward spell, meant to warn him of any magical beings nearby. He waited, his senses sharpened, alert for even the faintest hint of magic or movement.

After waiting anxiously, the spell showed that Skeeter was gone. Relief washed over Viktor, but urgency replaced it. He needed to get Hermione back to the castle safely, and quickly.

Away from him.

"She's gone," he said. "Ve go back nov."

She tilted her head, a tendril of hair falling across her face. "Go back where?"

Viktor swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. "To the castle," he rasped, his voice hoarse with desire.

Hermione's expression fell, disappointment flickering in her eyes. Viktor clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he fought for control. He needed a moment, just a moment to compose himself before they ventured back into the open.

"Oh."

"Just, please, I... need a minute," he murmured, unable to meet her gaze. "Please, vait for me outside."

Hermione hesitated, her brow furrowing with concern. For a heartbeat, Viktor thought she might protest, might insist on staying by his side. But then she gave a small nod and slipped past him, disappearing from the shadowed alley.

Viktor sagged against the wall, his legs suddenly weak. He tilted his head back, his eyes sliding shut as he focused on steadying his ragged breaths. Flashes of what had nearly transpired replayed in his mind—the feel of Hermione's body pressed against his, the heat of her skin, the scent of her hair. His cock, which had softened slightly, twitched with renewed interest.

Gritting his teeth, Viktor forced himself to think of other things—Quidditch tactics, potion ingredients, Karkaroff, anything to banish the tempting images from his mind. Slowly, agonizingly, he regained control of himself, the raging beast within him subsiding to a dull throb.

When he finally emerged from the alley, Hermione was waiting for him, the baseball cap dangling from her fingers. Her cheeks were flushed, but her expression was unreadable as she held the cap out to him.

"Here," she said her voice barely above a whisper.

Viktor took the cap, his fingers brushing against hers and mumbled thanks, tugging it low over his brow. They set off towards the castle in silence, the distance between them a stark contrast to their earlier closeness. Viktor's hands were shoved deep into his pockets, his shoulders hunched as he struggled to find the words to apologize.

"Her-my-oh-knee," he began, his voice gruff. " I... I am so sorry...I lost control, I put your honor at risk. That is... unforgivable."

He risked a glance at her, bracing himself for the anger or disgust he was sure he would see in her eyes. But Hermione's expression was one of confusion, tinged with... disappointment?

Hermione frowned and shook her head gently. "Viktor, it's okay. "I... I understand."

"Ne! It is not okay," he said. "I am a gentleman, and I should haff more control. I... I am not vorthy of you and your time." He clenched his jaw, "I vould understand if you... if you do not vant to 'date'."

Hermione came to an abrupt halt, her brow furrowing as she studied him intently. "Viktor," she said slowly, "I'm not angry with you. And I certainly don't want to stop going on dates or even stop spending time with you." She reached out, her hand grasping his arm. "That's not what I meant at all. I... I'm happy that you..." her eyes darted to his groin and she blushed wildly, "that you feel that way about me."

His mind went blank, and he stared at her, unable to process her words. "You... you are?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Hermione nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Yes, Viktor," she said, her hand squeezing his arm gently. "I am."

Viktor tried to process Hermione's words as they made their way back to the castle grounds. The crisp evening air carried the scent of fallen leaves and the faint aroma of woodsmoke.

Did she really not care? Was she really okay with what had happened? The more he mulled over the words the more confused he got.

As they approached the castle gates, a few students lingered nearby, casting curious glances their way. Viktor instinctively lowered his head, his fingers tightening around the brim of his baseball cap, but Hermione paid them no attention. She led him towards a more secluded area, away from prying eyes.

His heart hammered against his ribs as if trying to escape. Each breath felt sharp, the air too thin. He wasn't sure what to expect. When she turned to face him, her eyes shone with a tenderness that took his breath away.

Before he could speak, Hermione stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a warm hug. Viktor stiffened, caught off guard by her boldness, especially after their "moment" but then he immediately melted into her touch.

"Be careful tomorrow," she murmured, her voice muffled against his chest.

His arms snaked around her small frame, pulling her closer. The bond hummed in agreement. If he were to die tomorrow, he would die a happy man, having experienced the pure bliss of Hermione.

Reluctantly, Viktor broke the hug, his hands lingering on Hermione's arms for a moment longer than necessary. Gently, he took her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles.

"I vill. Goodnight, Her-my-oh-knee."

Hermione's cheeks flushed, and she offered him a shy smile. "Goodnight, Viktor. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Da. Tomorrow."

As she turned to leave, Viktor felt a pang of longing, a desperate desire to hold onto this moment. He wanted to ask her if she would cheer for him tomorrow, but he knew it was a foolish wish. With two of her friends competing, and with the ever-present threat of Karkaroff's wrath looming over them, he couldn't ask that of her.

Just as Hermione was about to go back to the main path, she paused and turned back, her eyes glistening. Without a word, she dashed back to Viktor, wrapping her arms around him tightly, as if she never wanted to let go, causing his baseball cap to fall off his head.

Viktor held her close, his heart aching at the sight of her tears. "I vill be alright, Her-my-oh-knee," he whispered, gently stroking her hair. "I promise."

With a final squeeze, Hermione pulled away, offering him a watery smile. She reached up and cupped his cheek.

"I know," she said softly. "Just... be careful, okay?"

Viktor nodded, too choked up to say anything. He watched Hermione walk away, her figure slowly disappearing into the night. Even after she vanished from sight, he stood there, relishing the warmth of her hug and the feel of her touch lingering in his memory.