Hermione's heart raced as Viktor's words washed over her. His gentle reassurance, his unwavering support—it was like a balm to her frayed nerves. She gazed up at him, truly seeing him for the first time since their reunion.

The light of the broom closet cast shadows across Viktor's chiseled features, accentuating the strong line of his jaw and crooked nose. Even here , his dark, obsidian eyes bore into her in a way that made her feel as though she was floating in space. Hermione's gaze traced the curve of his rather broad shoulders, his strong arms and big calloused hands.

"Thank you, Viktor. For everything."

Viktor's lips curved into a soft smile, and Hermione felt a flutter in her stomach that had nothing to do with anxiety. Here, in this dusty cramped space with brooms and mops as their only witnesses, she didn't have to be the infallible war hero. She could just be Hermione—vulnerable, imperfect, and undeniably human.

A warmth spread through her body that ended in her core. It was a feeling she hadn't experienced in so long, she had been sure it would never come back. But now, with Viktor's solid presence that warmth blossomed into something more. It was as if he was the sun after a long, harsh winter, welcoming her garden to bloom. What would those hands feel if they roamed her skin? Were his lips soft? She could find out, she just needed to lean in and…

Wait a minute. What? She furrowed her brow. Surely, she wasn't…No. it wasn't possible, right?

Her face heated as she felt her nipples tightened, but that didn't stop her gaze dropping to Viktor's lips, full and inviting. The urge to lean in, to taste him. What else could he make her forget? Her mouth went dry. He'd been so helpful, surely he would her garden.

But just as she gathered her courage, Viktor turned away. she could have sworn his cheeks were dusted pink.

"Ve should perheps return to ze celebration. I vould not vant to take advantage—"

Hermione smiled. It was cute, the way he was clearly flustered. Not only was it cute, it was endearing. His hesitation only fanned the flames of Hermione's "blossoming garden." The honorable restraint he showed, even as tension coiled between them, made her want him even more. She could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers clenched at his sides. He wanted her too—she was sure of it.

Was she really ready to take this step? It certainly wasn't ideal but that didn't matter, not when she finally felt something other than guilt.

Carpe diem, right?

She was tired of being careful, of overthinking every move. For once, she wanted to act on pure instinct and feeling.

"Viktor," she called out his name in the most seductive voice she could muster.

He turned back to her, a question in his eyes. Hermione didn't give him time to voice it. She leaned in, kneeled in front of him, and pressed her lips to his.

For a heartbeat, Viktor remained still.

Oh Merlin. What had she done?

But then, with a low groan that sent shivers down Hermione's spine, he responded. His lips moved against hers, tentative at first, then with growing hunger.

Hermione's hands found their way to Viktor's broad, hard chest. She pressed closer, desperate to get rid off any space between them. Viktor's arms encircled her waist, pulling her flush against him.

It was everything Hermione had imagined and more. Viktor's lips were soft yet demanding, coaxing responses from her she didn't know she was capable of. She gasped as his tongue traced the seam of her lips, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss further.

The world fell away, narrowing down to just the two of them in this hidden corner. Hermione's fingers tangled in Viktor's short hair, holding him close as if afraid he might disappear. His hands roamed her back, leaving trails of fire in their wake even through the fabric of her dress.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Hermione felt dizzy, her head slightly spinning. She looked up at Viktor.

"Are you sure about zis?"

The question made her stop and think. They were hiding in a broom closet at a Hogwarts. Outside, her friends and countless others were celebrating. The responsible thing would be to stop, to take a step back and think this through.

But for once in her life, Hermione didn't want to be responsible. She wanted to feel alive, to chase this spark of passion and see where it led. She wanted to throw caution to the wind. Viktor made her feel safe, desired, and understood.

"I'm sure," she said, her voice steady despite the trembling in her limbs. "I want this, Viktor. I want you."

His eyes widened a fraction before pulling her close. "You are amazing, Hermione," he whispered against her lips. "So brave, so beautiful." She had to hold back a whimper as his lips worshiped hers. He spoke her name, a low murmur that ignited her skin. It was a touch too intimate, too seductive.

Viktor's lips moved with a gentle, deliberate pace, tracing a path from Hermione's cheeks to the nape of her neck. Each kiss was soft and tender that made her crave more. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to be lost in the moment.

Hermione's lips parted eagerly as she kissed Viktor once more. She poured every ounce of her pent-up desire and need into the kiss. The sensation of his lips against hers was electrifying, making her knees weak. She clung to him tightly, her fingers digging into his back as she deepened the kiss. Viktor matched her fervor, his hands roaming more boldly now, mapping the curves of her body through her dress.

Hermione's back hit the wall of the closet, and she gasped at the cool stone against her heated skin. Viktor took advantage of her parted lips, deepening the kiss as he pressed her more firmly against the wall. Her breath hitched as the solid weight of his body pressed against her, the hardened erection nestled between her thighs sending shivers of pure, raw want to her own core. The heat of his hard chest seared into her skin. Merlin, he was so warm, so comforting.

Time lost all meaning. She didn't know whether they had been there 10 minutes or 10 hours, but that didn't matter. All that matter was the sensations Viktor was evoking in her—the scrape of his stubble against her neck as he trailed kisses down her throat, the heat of his palm as it skimmed her thigh, pushing her dress higher.

A distant part of her mind knew the risk they were taking. Anyone could walk in on them at any moment. But that thought only added to the thrill, heightening every touch, every caress.

"Viktor," she all but moaned, her voice barely recognizable to her own ears. "Please..."

Viktor's eyes darken with desire. His eyes held a raw intensity that threatened to consume her, and she could feel the heat of his gaze searing into her. Gone was the kind, gentle eyes from earlier. The thought should have terrified her, but instead her heart thundered faster, and a surge of wetness moistened her knickers.

She gulped, suddenly all too nervous.

"Stand up," he ordered, not asked.

Hermione obeyed, rising to her feet and facing him. The air between them crackled with tension, making her skin tingle.

Without a word, Viktor stepped closer, his body heat enveloping her. He moved behind her, and Hermione's breath hitched as she felt the hard length of his erection press against her back.

He was hard. He was hard for her. He wanted her, Hermione felt a blush creep up her neck as she realized how much she wanted Viktor. Her heart raced as she thought about the hard length of him pressed against her back. She couldn't believe how much she wanted him, and it scared her a little, but the fear was quickly replaced by a fierce longing.

As Viktor moved closer, she could feel his breath on her neck. She knew that she was playing with fire, but she couldn't help herself. She wanted him, and she wanted him now. The thought made her wetter still, and she couldn't help but moan softly as his erection pressed against her.

Hermione's body moved with a mind of its own, her back arching in a sinuous curve that brought the soft swell of her backside flush against the very firm evidence of Viktor's desire. The sound that escaped him was a primal groan, a symphony of need that resonated deep within her core. Encouraged by his response, she let her hips undulate in a slow, provocative circle, grinding against the rigid length of him, savoring the friction.

Viktor's hands, large and calloused, claimed her hips in a possessive grip, his fingers digging into her flesh with an feeling that bordered on pain, yet only served to stoke the fire within her. His touch was a brand, searing her skin, marking her as his. Inch by tantalizing inch, his hands charted a course down the sides of her legs.

As his exploration continued, his hands reached the hem of her dress, slipping beneath it to discover the delicate lace of her knickers.

He groaned, pushing his erection further into her arse. "Gods. You are so vet, Her-my—oh-knee." With a tenderness that sent her pulse racing even faster, Viktor's fingers began to trace the lace's edge.

"Viktor," she let out a shaky breath.

"Shh."

Viktor's hand, firm yet gentle, found the nape of her neck. His fingers, deft and sure, threaded through her thick, brown curls. With a light squeeze, he tilted her head back, exposing the delicate column of her throat. The weight of his family's ring, cool and unfamiliar against her skin pressed against her hot skin.

He leaned in, the scruff of his jaw grazing her cheek, and the world narrowed to the sensation of his lips, warm and insistent, against the shell of her ear.

"Nov I make you feel good, kitten."