Chapter 10

The Second Task - 1995

Staring at the Black Lake with Draco's hand clenched in his, Theo thought that he was going to vomit. Fleur Delacour had come up two minutes past without the person she had gone down to save. The beautiful French girl was distraught and Theo envied her the freedom of being able to show her emotions.

He wanted to rage and scream and throw things. He wanted to rip out Potter's heart or Krum's, whichever of them was responsible for her being under that water. They had no right to her and yet here they were, putting her in danger, time and time again.

Theo often felt numb and indifferent, but now what he felt was rage. He understood every violent action his father had ever done because in that moment,Theo knew that he was capable of murder. And it fucking terrified him, but not nearly as much as knowing Hermione was down there under the icy lake.

...

Hermione was floating. If she was dreaming, it was a bloody awful dream. Everything was black, she couldn't open her eyes, and she felt weightless. Distantly, she could feel coldness and an insistent spear of fear and rage. Something had to be horribly wrong.

Suddenly, she was aware and gasping for breath on the surface of the Black Lake, Viktor Krum in front of her looking like an overeager puppy. Godric, he had his hands on her. She felt ill as his large calloused hands were rubbing on her arms in an attempt to warm her. She barely made it onto the platform before Madam Pomfrey was wrapping a charmed blanket around her.

"Madam Pomfrey, I think I'm going to be ill," Hermione whispered.

"Of course dear, let's get you away from the press." Hermione let herself be led away and barely made it into a private area before vomiting.

Two sets of eyes watched as she disappeared and felt her discomfort as if it was their own. Only their lack of a plausible excuse and Lucius Malfoy's watchful eyes kept them from running to her.

...

Hermione gave Harry a half-hearted congratulatory hug before she allowed Madam Pomfrey to escort her to the hospital wing. The healer could find no reason for Hermione being ill, but wanted to keep her overnight for observation regardless, as no one else who had emerged from the black lake had exhibited such a strong reaction. Hermione accepted calming draughts and dreamless sleep willingly as the matron shuffled around the hospital wing cursing Dumbledore and all the other judges for allowing students to be used as treasures. Hermione found that she was so exhausted and nauseous that she could barely see straight and swiftly drifted off.

Long after midnight, two sets of soft footsteps could be heard walking into the hospital wing. Two hands stroked her sleeping cheeks. One finger played with a rogue curl and two sets of soft male lips kissed hers. The bond settled a little in their chests with the physical contact, so reluctantly, and as quietly as they could, the two boys tiptoed back out again.

...

Waking up too late for breakfast in the Great Hall the following morning, Hermione ate in the Hospital Wing. After reporting to Madam Pomfrey that she felt much better, Hermione was released. Her sense of unease had nothing to do with the horrible nausea she felt yesterday, but it pulled at her. Rather than heading up to Gryffindor Tower, she went outside, following her instincts using the pulsing source of unrest in her chest as her guide.

Hermione came around the corner of the trail that circled the Black Lake, following the pull of the bond. The closer she got to them, the better she could feel the boys' emotions. The rage deep inside her chest was not her own, but that of her two loves. They were angry, beyond angry, livid. What the bloody hell was going on? She quickened her steps, the need to get to them increasing with every breath; they had to be in danger, something had to be wrong.

"You need to stay the bloody hell away from Hermione," Hermione rounded the corner just in time to see Theo shove Viktor backwards. Hermione froze, eyes widening. She had never seen Theo anything other than calm. But now, his face was contorted with rage. "It's your fault she was under that lake, all your fault! She could have been killed!" Draco was standing behind Theo, his face equally angry, and he was making no attempts to calm the brunette boy.

Confusion writ large on his face, Viktor was speaking quickly in Bulgarian which Hermione was almost sure that neither of her boys spoke. She certainly didn't.

Theo, always full of surprises, shocked her by screaming at Viktor something that sounded like "Tya e nasha! Nashite! Shte te ubiya, ako ya dokosnesh!" The dumbfounded look on Viktor's face would have been comical if it hadn't been paired with the terror that was also there.

Viktor's hands were spread low in a conciliatory gesture; he seemed to be pleading for understanding from Draco who was standing behind Theo with his arms crossed, both of his hands clenched into fists, unmoving in his convictions. Viktor dropped to his knees and was pleading with them. Hermione realised in that moment that Viktor must be very aware who their fathers were and what affiliations that they held.

Suddenly, Theo's wand was in his hand "Enough!" Hermione screamed before he could wield it.

All three boys turned to look at her, their expressions mirror images of each other with surprise, as none of them had noticed her approach.

"That's enough!" she yelled again, her eyes narrowed as she came closer. "Viktor, stand up. This is ridiculous."

"Mia," Theo looked at her with desperation in his eyes, "You could have died and it would have been," pointing his wand menacingly at Viktor, "his fault."

"Theo! Put your wand away! I thought this–" she indicated with her hand between the three soul mates– "was a secret! You can't threaten people over me and expect it to stay that way!" Reluctantly putting his wand away, Theo hung his head at her stern words and kicked the toe of his dragonhide boot in the dirt as if he were a young boy. Hermione had to stop herself from stepping towards him and giving him an embrace to comfort him. He deserved to feel guilty. "Draco, what were you two thinking?" she asked, turning her attention to the blonde that was trying to fade into the background—as if that would ever work. "I thought that Slytherins were supposed to be cunning. This was foolish in the extreme." Draco looked away, a blush staining his cheeks.

With her boys thoroughly scolded, Hermione turned back to the older wizard, softening her expression to try and convey her apology. "Viktor, I'm so sorry that these two were acting like a pair of godless heathens. Please, can I ask you not to tell people about us? It's very new and I'm afraid that their families wouldn't approve of me." Hermione begged him to see reason with her eyes; she didn't want to obliviate him, but she would if she had to. In fact she already had her wand in her hand in her sleeve, with the spell she'd never performed before on the tip of her tongue.

"Of course, Hermy-oh-nee," Viktor agreed promptly, "I'm sorry I did not know about you and your boyfriends."

"Srodni dushi," Theo corrected.

"Srodni dushi," Viktor repeated in shock, his eyebrows nearly to his forehead. "Oh, I understand better now. I am very sorry for overstepping. I would not have done it if I had known. Soul bonds are the most honoured bond. I will keep your secrets." Looking at Draco and Theo, "You are most blessed, she is a very smart one. She will give you clever sons."

Hermione and Draco both snorted simultaneously at that and when she raised her eyebrow at him, he lowered his eyes. That's what she thought.

"Thank you for your discretion. I am sorry for any misunderstanding, but I need to go speak with these two prats in private." Viktor nodded and turned, heading back towards his ship while Hermione took hold of her Slytherins and dragged Theo and Draco off into a secluded spot nearby.

...

Once they were behind some large boulders away from the walking path that circled the lake, Hermione whirled on them.

"Horrifying! The two of you! Are you not wizards? No Muffliato? Anyone could have wandered by and heard that entire thing! What would one of the Slytherin girls do if they heard about us?! Your fathers would both be informed instantly! Are you trying to get us all killed?"

"Of-of course not-not," Theo stammered.

"Well then, I am bloody disappointed that you would act that way! It's almost as if you wanted everyone to know and that would certainly remove the problem that I pose!?" She looked angrily at Draco, whose lip was trembling; she'd never seen him so upset, but their foolish behaviour warranted a good scolding.

Draco took a deep breath and Hermione lifted an eyebrow as his explanation poured from his lips. "You can't possibly understand how terrified we were for you! We could feel the coldness of the lake through the bond. It was awful,and we couldn't go to you, we couldn't save you. We were fucking helpless, Granger, and it was all that Bulgarian fool's fault."

"Viktor didn't know about us and I've barely seen him since the Yule Ball! Neither of us knew that Dumbledore was going to stick me in that lake, but beyond that I didn't expect the two of you to act like jealous cavemen! How are we going to stay a secret for literally years if you can't control yourselves!" She whirled on Theo, "You were going to hex him!"

"I was." Theo admitted, "But so were you, I saw your wand in your hand."

"I was going to obliviate him if I had to," Hermione scolded, "I will do whatever it takes to keep us safe and together, but I expect more discretion from the two of you! You're Slytherins for goodness sake! I'd expect you to act as such."

Draco and Theo nodded their agreement, but still not meeting her eye. "Granger," Draco began, "We are sorry, I swear. It won't happen again. But please let us hold you for a bit. Yesterday was one of the worst days of our lives."

Theo finally looked up, his eyes bright with unshed tears, "And that's saying something."

"Come here," Hermione opened her arms, "You may be idiots, but you are my idiots."

She held the two of them close for a long time, rubbing their backs and putting her cheek on their heads.

"Theo, I didn't know you spoke Bulgarian?" Hermione asked at last after their bond finally felt the most settled it had been since after the Yule Ball.

"I speak eight languages," Theo answered, tilting his face to look up at her, "English obviously. Greek because my mother taught me, as it's her mother tongue. Armenian because it's a good idea to know what Thoros is yelling in advance. Russian and Bulgarian because it was very up in the air up until the week before whether I would attend Durmstrang or Hogwarts. Drake taught me French. And Blaise taught me Italian."

"What's the eighth one?"

"Scots Gaelic, but I'm really bad at it. I mean here we are literally in Scotland and I have no one fluent to practise with."

"Don't listen to him Granger, he's fully fluent, he's just worried he's mislearned the dialect."

"I only had a tutor for three weeks, Draco. That is simply not enough time to be considered fluent."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh out loud. "Theo, consider me deeply impressed. I didn't realise you were such a polyglot."

Smiling wickedly, he tugged on one of her curls, "That's the whole idea. Only Blaise, Draco and now you know the extent of it. Krum will just assume I speak Bulgarian and English. And my secret will be safe."

"You need to be more cautious with other secrets though," Hermione reminded.

"Fair enough, Hermione. I'm sorry, I really am." Theo said, "Please forgive us, and let's just try to enjoy a little time alone together. Yesterday was a nightmare." Hermione got the feeling he wasn't just talking about her being trapped under the lake, but she didn't press the matter.

She simply nodded and Draco transfigured a handkerchief in his pocket into a picnic blanket, and the three of them laid together, heads in laps, as close together as the three young people could be.

They talked and talked and it was hours more before any of them were seen back at the castle.

...

Being an international Quidditch star and TriWizard Tournament Champion had never felt so lonely, thought Viktor Krum, as he sat on a rock on the edge of the Black Lake staring at the ship from Durmstrang. He wished he could go home to Bulgaria. He missed his family. He'd really thought that maybe something real was happening between him and the beautiful brilliant Hogwarts girl who didn't particularly care about Quidditch. He had hoped that her sons would be his sons. That appeared to be impossible now. She had srodni dushi. To have two of them was horribly rare and to have two who were heirs to such fortunes, but with such fathers as they had, it was unfortunate for her indeed.

None of them were to be envied, he thought. Their future together would likely involve a great deal of pain.

He skipped a rock across the surface of the lake and as it sank, a tentacle flipped up out of the water and tossed the stone back towards the shore. Perhaps this was a poor idea of how to release the tension inside me. Being in that lake once was more than enough for a lifetime. Angering the giant squid and being pulled into the water was something he would prefer to skip. It was the end this ruinous day did not need. He stared up at the sunny Scottish sky and wished that it would rain on him. Then at least the weather would match his mood.

Suddenly he heard a feminine voice behind him, "Viktor? Are you alright?" He turned and saw the Parkinson heiress, all elegant clothes and sharp cheekbones, her hair like a raven's wing.

"Well enough, Pansy," he smiled at the Slytherin girl that he had thought was involved with the Malfoy boy, but she must not be, if Hermione was his srodna dusha.

"I was just getting some air, would you like company?" Pansy asked, nervously.

"No, thank you. I think I am not good company today, but it was kind of you to ask."

"I wanted you to know I thought you did a great job…you know…yesterday at the second task. A partial transfiguration is very difficult. I was…impressed." She smiled and Viktor was struck at how pretty she was when she was slightly off centre. Her dark almond eyes were very exotic and her skin was flawless. Such a lovely creature.

"Thank you," he smiled at her, "It feels very much like I lost yesterday, so I appreciate your kindness."

"Well, not everyone can be Harry Potter and thank Salazar for that. More than one Chosen One running around would be difficult to stomach. He alone is more than enough." She nodded to him and continued on her way along the trail.

She did have a very lovely figure, he noticed as she walked away, her hips swaying as she went. Was she flirting with him earlier? His confidence felt so damaged. He really had thought that there was something between him and Hermione and obviously there hadn't been on her end.

...

Later that evening after dinner, Viktor peeked into the library and was pleased to see that Hermione was not there. He was not quite ready to see her yet. His feelings still felt raw despite the light balm of a beautiful young woman giving him compliments.

He opened one of the books he had been reading the other day when he had been here. There were only a handful of books in Bulgarian and this history of wizardry in the British Isles was quite interesting. He wished his ability to read English was stronger. He had hoped that immersion would help him in that regard, but it did not appear to be the case. Maybe he needed an English tutor or he should talk to Headmaster Karkaroff about teaching him a translation spell.

He looked down the table and saw that one of the few people in the library was the young man who had helped Potter grow gills for the second task, what was his name?

"Longbottom?" Viktor asked, "That is your name? Correct?"

Neville looked up and blushed, "Mr…Mr Krum, how-how can I help you?"

"I wanted to say that I was very impressed with the Gillyweed that you used to help Harry Potter, very clever. Durmstrang's Herbology professor is mostly just interested in poisons, so actually helpful plants have never been taught. So far while I have been at Hogwarts, I have learned of many usages of plants that I have never heard of before. I understand that you are something of an herbology prodigy?"

"That's very kind of you," Neville seemed to gain a bit of confidence, "It is an area of some strength for me. Plants are much easier than people to understand."

Viktor could not help himself but laugh out loud at that.

The librarian shushed him with a scowl worthy of his grandmother.

"Perhaps would you be willing to do some herbology tutoring? Perhaps I could trade you some other subject? Maybe Quidditch? What would you like to learn in exchange?"

"Are you serious?" At Viktor's nod, the other wizard cleared his throat as he considered his answer before finally settling on one. "Bulgarian language," Neville answered shyly, a blush tinging his cheeks.

Viktor felt a responding blush on his own cheeks and placed his hand over the other boy's. "I could teach you that and some Bulgarian culture," Viktor whispered, "but you must call me Viktor then."

"Viktor it is then, and you simply must call me Neville."

"Consider it done."

...