Viktor materialized with a crack, the familiar tug of Apparition pulling him back into the rolling grounds of Hogwarts. The Scottish air, crisp and tinged with magic, filled his lungs as he steadied himself. His eyes swept over Hogwarts.
He hadn't seen the aftermath firsthand, the images in the newspaper had not done the wreckage justice. His manager had advised against coming, deeming it an unnecessary risk. "Focus on the upcoming season, Viktor," the gruff old wizard had insisted, "Your place is on the pitch, not picking up rubble."
But his manager didn't know what it was like. He didn't have his mind controlled by a manic, power-hungry wizard. A cold dread clawed at his insides. The memory of theImperius Curse. The feeling of being a puppet, every move, every word, every thought controlled by another. He could see the image in his mind's eye: the dark wizard, a snake slithering around his neck, his voice echoing from the other's lips, spitting venom.
His body wasn't his own. It was a vessel, a mere puppet controlled by a master puppeteer. Each breath, each step, each movement, was dictated by the cold, calculating mind of another. He'd been a weapon, a pawn in a game he couldn't understand, forced to perform acts he'd never dream of in his right mind.
"Mr Krum, how good of you to come." The crisp, Scottish voice broke through his thoughts. "Thank you for coming. Your assistance is most appreciated."
Professor McGonagall – now Headmistress. Even the ever-stoic Headmistress seemed a bit worse for wear. Her usually sharp robes were slightly askew, and a smudge of dirt marred her cheekbone. But her eyes, those piercing green eyes, held the same fire.
"Headmistress," Viktor nodded, bowing his head slightly. "It is good to be back. I am sorry I could not be here sooner. Ve vere fighting the last vave of Death Eaters in Bulgaria."
His voice was low and measured, betraying none of the emotions beneath the surface. Shame. Regret. A desperate need to make amends. If he had been stronger, he wouldn't have attacked Fleur. If he had been stronger maybe Diggory would have lived. If he had been stronger maybe he would have prevented so many deaths back home.
The older witch's expression softened almost imperceptibly. "Many of our allies were scattered during those final days, Mr Krum. What matters is that you're here now."
Viktor shook his head. His eyes drifted to the castle again, taking in the full extent of the damage.
"Vhere do you need me?"
McGonagall gestured towards the east wing. "The Charms corridor sustained heavy damage. Professor Flitwick could use your expertise in reinforcing the magical foundations. She pointed towards a cluster of students hauling what looked like enchanted tarpaulins. "We could use your strength with those if you don't mind getting your hands dirty."
"Of course not, Headmistress," Viktor replied, already rolling up his sleeves.
As he turned to head towards the Charms corridor, a bespectacled figure appeared in his path. Viktor nearly collided with Potter.
"Krum?" Potter stammered. "I, um, I didn't know you were coming."
Viktor straightened, studying the younger wizard. Potter looked older, wearier than he remembered. Though, if Viktor were being honest, he probably couldn't think of a time when the boy didn't look…haunted.
"Potter," he replied. "I came to help."
"Oh, er, that's good."
An awkward silence stretched between them. Viktor searched for something to say,aware of their shared history – competitors turned allies, but not quite friends. Acquaintances at best.
"Hov are you?" he finally asked, wincing internally.
Potter's shoulders relaxed slightly. "As well as can be expected, I suppose."
Viktor shook his head.
"How was it for you?" Potter asked, pushing up his glasses. "The war I mean."
Viktor studied Potter's face, noticing the faint lines of exhaustion around his eyes.
"The var in Bulgaria vas difficult," he said slowly, weighing his words. " Many vere lost. But ve fought the Death Eaters for months, they did not stop."
A muscle ticked in his jaw as he remembered the chaos, the destruction. Innocent lives were lost all because of one insane wizard.
"I'm sorry you had to go through that," Potter said quietly. "The fighting here was intense as well."
Viktor gave a curt nod, not wanting to dwell on the horrors of the war. He had had enough of that. "And nov, I vill help here."
"Thank you," Potter replied, scratching the back of his neck."That is really nice of you. Hogwarts needs all the help it can get right now."
"I vill do vot I can, I vill be vorking vith Professor Flitvick."
"That's good, he's been needing another pair of hands."
"Have you, er...have you seen Hermione around at all?" asked Potter
Viktor's eyebrows shot up. "No, I haffe not seen her," he admitted.
"Ah, well, right, I'm sure you'll see her soon. She's been busy—like always, but she's around."
Before Viktor could say anything, he noticed movement across the grounds. There she was, Hermione Granger, with her wild curls escaping her ponytail, looking as brilliant as ever.
A small smile appeared on Viktor's face.
His smile faded when he saw Ron Weasley beside her, casually draping an arm over her shoulders. Memories of newspaper clippings about their new relationship flooded his mind.
He involuntarily scowled.
Of course,they are together now. It had only taken the Weasley boy literal years to realize the type of witch Hermione was. Viktor felt an unexpected pang in his chest and quickly suppressed the emotion.
No. was hisfriendand as hisfriend, he was going to support her. Even if it meant dealing with the annoying redhead.
Potter shifted awkwardly beside him, clearly noticing where Viktor's glowering gaze had landed. The bespectacled wizard opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of whatever he was going to say.
Viktor's gaze returned to Potter. "Is Her-my-oh-knee vith Veasley?" he asked flatly.
The moment the words left his mouth, he wanted to smash his head against the wall. What an idiotic question.
Potter shifted from one foot to another."Er...well, you know..." he stammered, scrunching his nose. "Yeah, I think so, I mean yeah, they're...together. Seeing each other, I mean."
Why had he asked?
The confirmation, though expected, still stung more than Viktor cared to admit. She is afriend, he had to remind himself. Friends do not get jealous.
An excruciatingly tense moment passed between the two wizards. Potter looked as though he wanted to say something else, but seemed utterly lost for words.
Finally, Viktor broke the silence. "I should go and find Professor Flitvick," he stated brusquely. "Thank you, Potter."
Well, that didn't go very smoothly. But what else could Viktor do? Standing there Potter looked as though he wanted to tell him how great his friends were doing now that they were dating, but there was no way Viktor would willingly listen to that.
Without waiting for a response, Viktor turned and walked away. As he crossed the grounds, he glanced back at Hermione one last time.
A small, wistful smile appeared on his lips. Despite the lingering ache, he felt happy for her. She deserved happiness after everything she had been through.
Maybe they would catch up later, asfriends. For now, Viktor had work to do — work that would help him focus on restoring the castle he once called home, even if only for a short time.
Taking a deep breath, he quickened his pace toward the Charms corridor, pushing thoughts of Hermione out of his mind.
Viktor's fingers traced the spines of ancient tomes. The familiar scent of parchment and ink filled his nostrils and brought back memories of late-night study sessions and stolen glances across crowded tables. Of simpler times.
He'd always loved the Hogwarts library. It was the quietest place in the castle. Which was why he was here. Today had been so loud, the younger students hadn't stopped asking for autographs and Quidditch advice.
He closed his eyes but snapped them open as a flash of movement passed by. Bushy brown hair, a stack of books teetering precariously.
"Her-my-oh-nee?"
She whirled around, nearly dropping her tower of books. "Viktor? Viktor Krum is that you?"
"Da. Unless you knov of other Viktors."
Her brow furrowed as she continued to stare at him.
"Wh-what are you doing here?"
He moved quickly, steadying the wobbling stack.
"Here," he offered
Their fingers brushed as he took the books. Her hands were soft. Friends could still appreciate the softness of the other's hands, right?
"Thank you," Hermione said, a slight flush coloring her cheeks. "I didn't know you were here at Hogwarts."
Viktor shook his head, following her to a nearby table. "I got here in the morning. Professor McGonagall vrote for me."
"That's wonderful of you to come," Hermione said, her eyes lighting up. "We can certainly use all the help we can get."
Viktor couldn't help but notice how tired she looked. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her normally vibrant curls seemed limp and lifeless. Yet there wasstillthis spark in her, a fire in her eyes that he remembered all too well.
"How haff you been?" he asked, genuinely curious. "It has been a long time."
Hermione's smile faltered slightly. "It has, hasn't it? Well, I've been... managing, I suppose. Trying to keep busy with the restoration efforts."
Viktor shook his head.
"And you?" Hermione asked, her eyes searching his face. "How have you been?"
Viktor considered his answer carefully. How could he explain the nightmares that still plagued him? The guilt that gnawed at his insides?
"I haffe been vell."
Hermione's expression softened. "That's great Viktor."
An awkward silence fell between them. Viktor searched for something to say, anything to break the tension. Should he ask how long she and Weasley had been together? What happened after she left Fleur's party?
"So," he began, gesturing to the pile of books. "Vot are you vorking on?"
Hermione's eyes lit up, and Viktor felt a warmth spread through his the Hermione he remembered – passionate, brilliant, always eager to learn.
"Oh! Well, I've been researching ancient restoration spells," she explained, her hands moving animatedly as she spoke. "I think if we combine some of these older techniques with more modern charms, we might be able to accelerate the rebuilding process."
Viktor leaned in, genuinely intrigued. "Vot spells are you looking at?"
As Hermione launched into an explanation, Viktor found himself captivated. Not just by the subject matter, which was indeed interesting, but by her enthusiasm. The way her eyes sparkled when she talked about something she was passionate about. The slight furrow of her brow as she worked through a particularly complex idea. It was all her. Even after the years had passed by, he had never met a witch quite like her.
"...and if we can just figure out how to properly integrate the Fortification Charm with the Ancient Rune of Stability, I think we might be able to create a much stronger foundation for the castle's magical infrastructure," Hermione concluded, slightly out of breath.
"It is good idea. But vot of the potential magical interference?"
Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "Interference?"
"Vell, in my experience vith complex spell-veaving, mixing different magical traditions can sometimes create unexpected results."
He reached for one of the books, flipping it open to a diagram. "Look here," he said, pointing to an intricate series of runes. "These Ancient Norse symbols, they are powerful, yes. But they vere not meant to vork vith Latin-based incantations."
Hermione leaned in close, her brow furrowed in concentration. Viktor caught a whiff of her shampoo – something floral and light – and had to force himself to focus on the task at hand.
Friends definitely don't smell each other's hair.
Fuck, normal people didn't do that either.
"I see what you mean," Hermione said slowly. "But surely with the right calibrations."
"Maybe. But it vould take very precise calculations. One small mistake could unbalance everything."
Hermione bit her lip, a habit Viktor remembered all too well. A habit he had learned meant that she was deep in thought, and indeed,notflirting with him.
"You might be right. But I still think it's worth exploring. The potential benefits could be enormous."
Viktor smiled. Her determination was admirable, even if he thought her approach might be a bit reckless.
"You haff not changed," he said softly.
Hermione looked up at him, a mix of emotions flickering across her face. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" she asked softly.
He wanted to tell her it was one of the things he'd always admired about her. That her brilliance, both internal and external, though it had been her mind specifically, that had drawn him to her in the first place. But he couldn't say that. He couldn't say that she had one of those rare smiles that feels like a ray of sun in the winter. He couldn't say that as her friend.
"It is vho you are," he said instead. "And it vill never be a bad thing."
Hermione's cheeks flushed slightly, and she quickly looked back down at the book. "Well, um, thank you. I suppose we should get back to work then?"
Viktor shook his head, ignoring the twinge of disappointment in his chest he had no right to feel. "Da."
Viktor watched her as they worked. Watched the way her brow furrowed in concentration, the way her fingers traced the lines of ancient runes. She still possessed that same captivating energy that had drawn him to her years ago.
He noticed the way her eyelids drooped occasionally, and the slight tremor in her hand as she reached for a book. She was pushing herself too hard, he could see it.
"Her-my-oh-knee," he said gently, "Maybe ve should take a break? You look like you are about to fall asleep on this scroll."
"No, no, I'm fine," she insisted. "We need to figure this out."
But as the minutes ticked by, her resolve seemed to waver. Her body, as if with a will of its own, began to lean against his. At first, it was just a slight pressure, her shoulder brushing against his arm. But then, slowly, she seemed to melt towards him, until her head was resting against his chest, her hair tickling his chin.
Viktor froze. He could feel the warmth of her body against his, the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.
Indecent thoughts, thoughts that had no place in this library or anywhere for that matter, began to flit through his mind, a dangerous, alluring swarm. Images of her, her hair tumbling down her back, her lips parted in a silent gasp, flickered before his eyes. He banished them as quickly as they arrived, but the lingering warmth of her body, the scent of her hair, was enough to set his pulse racing.