Notes:
This work acts both as a standalone prequel and sequel to my main work 'Ode to lone souls'. The work in itself can be enjoyed as-is as well. If you're following the main story, this work has no spoilers to the series.
To make the work easier to understand, and because it's formed of snippets, I've attached years and months. The beginning of the story is 1992, making Viktor, 16, in Year Nine, and Tania 17, in Year Ten.
In Durmstrang headcanons I've previously explored in 'Ode to lone souls', Durmstrang students start school at seven years old, and they spend their next eleven years there, as opposed to Hogwarts.
Another note is that Durmstrang is magically enchanted so students from a variety of countries understand each other, and they would not necesarilly know that someone is from the same country as them, unless they tell one another, or if they can figure it by their name or something specific, such as this case.
1992, October
"Sorry, boys, we only have one copy of that book, and it's taken." the librarian, a full-cheeked, bright-eyed witch, stated. Viktor sighed, his Ritualistic Studies paper under a tighter and tighter deadline by the minute, while his classmate Duma simply shrugged his shoulders and went 'written in the stars, Vicky boy', pulling on his robe to get him out of the library and back to Quidditch practice.
Viktor knew, however, that Duma would copy his essay later in the week with the use of his Duplication Quill, which he had kindly 'lent' to Kopfer, only to be able afterwards to have the quill reproduce exactly what had been written with it. Kopfer may not have recognised the kindness with what it actually was, but Viktor both knew Duma and recognised the type of quill used. His father was a Quillmaker, after all, and had shown him what form of Magical Quills were both on and off the market.
He really should get other, new friends.
"Is there nothing else on the subject? At all?" he asked, pulling the sleeve of his robe away from Duma, who decided, with a scoff, that sitting and whispering in a library was not worth his time. The essay was worth half of Viktor's grade, however, and he did not feel like resitting in the winter, not this year, not when he had his tryouts for the national.
"Not when you make your essays on topics this obscure, mister Krum, no. You've probably seen yourself that Ritualistic Studies is not that popular. Take it up with your professor or the Deputy for not keeping the library stocked." she chuckled bitterly, taking another look at the title he requested. She raised her eyes towards him, and shoved a finger at the edge of her headscarf, scratching her temple before pointing to a student nearby. "Listen. Danaga there borrowed it, and she's right there. If you're in a rush, ask her if she'll lend it to you."
Viktor took back the slip on which he wrote his requested book, and crumbled it in his palm, grumbling a 'thank you' to the librarian. There were two Danagas, one a year ahead of him, one a year behind him, and considering this was Ritualistc Studies, it had to be the eldest. Viktor turned, and indeed saw Tania Danaga, sitting cross-legged and scrunched up on a chair, her face fully hidden by a curtain of dark waves of hair. Her head moved quickly as she was writing on a parchment with one hand, the other flicking between two pages. He approached her, and without her taking notice, sat opposite her, unsure how to get her attention.
There was a certain unwritten rule at Durmstrang about approaching students from upper years, even if the difference was of only one year - the rule was that you don't. And Viktor knew that himself. He knew the names of most students in his year and of upper years, up to students that graduated in the past two years. But he barely knew anyone in the years below him, unless they were on the team, and knew that they wouldn't approach him without needing something or without him first acknowledging them. And he'd never talked to either of the Danaga sisters.
"Can I help you?" She slightly raised her head from the book, and peered at him from under thick eyebrows.
Viktor looked up, quite thankful that she'd finally noticed him. However, he wasn't quite prepared to actually phrase his request, and stumbled through his words as he tried getting them out as soon as possible.
"Look, sorry for bothering, I'll make this quick. I have this essay due in a few days, and Katic said you have the only copy of that book. And…" Ah, he lost his train of thought there for a moment, which she seemed to have immediately caught onto.
"And…?" she repeated, closing the book and pulling it closer towards herself.
"And, without it I'll fail the year."
"Doesn't sound like my problem. What's your essay on?"
"On the use of Squibs in winter solstice rituals in the Rila mountains."
"Really? How come you're doing your first essay on that?"
Viktor was a bit taken aback by her sudden interest, as no one else, save for professor Moscopol, had asked him or shown any interest in what he had chosen as a topic. As he described it, however, he saw her demeanour change. She uncrossed her legs, and put one of them on the floor, her face and expression brightening. Viktor took his time examining Tania Danaga for the first time, and wondered if she was doing the same. He wondered if he brushed his hair this morning. He brushed his teeth, but he definitely forgot to put on perfume, as he did on most days. His back straightened automatically as she seemed to examine him, and he looked back at her, at her faded freckles, at her high cheekbones and dark eyes catching reddish tinges in the sunlight. When she finally pushed the book towards him, he took the occasion to lower his eyes and shift his gaze from her - there was something in her expression that was quite striking, but he could not put his finger on it.
"You're Bulgarian, then?" she asked, leaning in.
"Yeah. Viktor Krum. Thanks- thanks for this. I owe you one."
He raised himself, ready to go back to the dorms and finish his essay, only to feel a sudden weight pulling against his sleeve.
"Oi - leaving so soon? I haven't finished my own report. If you think Manu's tough, wait 'til you have him next year. Sit back down."
Viktor's first reaction was to immediately abide and sit, but he instead resisted it, and pulled his sleeve back, opening and parsing through the book. He did not want to give her the satisfaction of immediately handing it back to her, and let her stew in silence as he slowly found the chapter he needed before he leaned back and took his time in placing his chair closer to her.
The more he was in the presence of Tania, the more he understood why she wasn't mentioned that often in conversation, and he wondered if it had anything to do with his classmates being a bit fearful of what they would say reaching her ears. She was authoritative and her tone easily and casually shifted to callous notes, reminding him more of a professor than a student.
For the rest of the afternoon, he shared a table and book with her - he used a spell to make the pages in between their articles remain upright, and they both carried on, heads cocked - Tania's to the left, and Viktor's to the right, as they wrote their essays, not a single word between them for hours on end, until it was only the two of them, and Katic in one corner of the library, mumbling to herself as she continued on with her categorising. Neither of them moved much, save for cracking their fingers every now and then, not until she raised herself from the chair to stretch her back. Viktor pretended not to notice, and continued on with his homework, until a thin finger found its way onto his parchment.
"Manu won't like this part. He wants us to steer away from hypothesising as much as possible in his classes, and he'll deduct harshly for each point you have no proof of." she advised in a whisper.
A shiver ran down his spine, and Viktor hoped dearly that she could not see his face right then, not with her warm breath behind his ear, not with the full softness of her breast pressing against his arm, as she leaned over his shoulder to show him what should be expunged from his essay. He breathed in, and tried his best to remain stone faced as he turned his head towards her.
"Thanks."
"It's a really good essay, this. For a ninth year." She was so close to him, that he could almost taste her perfume, and when she moved away and straightened her back, he almost felt like leaning back in himself. "And for a Quidditch player."
Viktor's first thought was whether she thought Quidditch players were all dumb, before being reminded of the existence of Duma and other members on the two school teams that were just like him. Instead, he asked her the second thought passing through his head, as Viktor knew for a fact that he'd never seen her on the pitch and that she barely seemed to know anything about him.
"You know I play Quidditch?"
"Plum told me about one Viktor Krum."she said simply, shoving her hands in the pockets of her robe.
Plum was a tan, extremely tall fellow from Moldova, who had graduated last year, and who had been the captain of the Durmstrang 'A league' Quidditch team, also known as the Wolves, for five years consecutively, a feat unheard of for hundreds of years. Plum was the one who asked him to join the Wolves and 'promoted' him, so to say, from the B-team, the Bears, two years ago, and who taught him how to negotiate a contract when - "When, Viktor boy, not if, when!" as he used to say with a booming laugh - he would make the national team.
"When you made the A team, he said, like this-" she deepened her voice comically, and bounced at the knees, in not that shabby of an impression of his ex-Quidditch Captain. "'He's the best Seeker I've ever, ever, ever seen, and I've seen dozens, nay, more, nay, hundreds.'"
"You knew Plum?"
"Who didn't? Hard to miss 'im."
"Speaking of my name and Plum's…" Viktor finally found himself saying, watching as she packed her things. "You never told me yours."
"You already know my name, you idiot." she chuckled. "Don't play pretend with me, you're smarter than that."
1992, November
Viktor followed behind his Quidditch team, all of them with brooms in hand, ready to fly out to catch the first practical of the Alchemy class, set by the Year Eleven students. It was one of the only practical examinations that were open to students of all levels to witness, and for the past couple of years, it became a yearly tradition for students to organise themselves in groups to see the magical fireworks display. The Quidditch players usually organised themselves in smaller groups, and this time Viktor joined the players from his year group.
"You all need to come back by ten, got it?" Professor Hattab announced at the door as she passed the Quidditch group. She spoke loudly, her voice almost breaking from how many times she had to say the exact same things to hundreds of students. "Duma, Mateescu, Luc, I'm looking at you especially. Arrive even one minute later and it's detention over the weekend."
"Oh, come on, Madam professor-" Luc protested, only to have professor Hattab almost shove her wand up his nose with how fast she approached him.
"Not a minute later."
The others around him laughed at how quickly all colour faded from Luc's face, and Viktor couldn't help but laugh as well. Hattab, however, was not amused, and continued with her reproaches 'tie your shoelaces before I turn them into snakes'. 'You'd better not be hiding a single drop of anything under those robes - accio!', and to Viktor's surprise, he found himself in the line of fire as well, however his admonishment was quite pale in comparison.
"Where's your jacket? Krum, you'll catch the nastiest cold. You're not going without one."
"You'll catch up, Viktor, yeah?" Alexei Poliakoff leaned in and mumbled, to a flurry of other nods from his teammates. "Hattab'll have my head on a pyke if she finds out what I've brought."
Viktor nodded, and rushed back to his dorm to grab his jacket, running back through the now empty cafeteria. Well, almost empty. As he dashed, he saw a familiar figure laying about, legs propped against a table as about three Illumination Frogs surrounded her, croaking at regular intervals. Each croak that inflated their vocal sac produced a warm light which the figure used to read, and he recognised the figure at the peak of three bright croaks as Tania Danaga.
"Aren't you coming?" he called out, stopping his run and briskly walking towards her.
"I'm not confident on a broom." she responded, shrugging.
"What about your sister?"
"Have you ever seen Tamara? She's a flying liability if I've ever seen one."
He approached her, and looked around at the empty cafeteria. He had been part of the last leaving groups, and had barely seen a soul on his way to grab his jacket. By now, most, if not all students had already disappeared, and were on their way to the northernmost forest.
Viktor didn't know what overcame him in that moment, but years after, thinking back that moment, he was thankful to that version of himself for voicing out his thoughts.
"Do you want to come with me?"
Tania opened her mouth, and Viktor was prepared to hear a snarky remark, only to have her pick up her three Illumination Frogs, and transfigured them into small hair clips.
"I don't have a jacket. And by the time I'd get mine, I'd make you late for the show."
"Here, have mine."
They watched the fireworks on his broom, near a thicket of trees that hid them from any onlookers. Both of them sat on his broomstick across from each other, shoulder to shoulder, with Tania grasping the back of his robe to make sure she would not accidentally fall. He proposed to hold her, but she refused, at least until an enormous, dragon-shaped firework crackled loudly in front of them, and out of what must have been shock, she wobbled on the broom, and finally accepted his hand on the small of her back to help her with her balance.
"Since it's a life and death situation-" she finally acquiesced, and to his surprise, put her head against his shoulder.
He didn't complain, however, as her curls tickled his nose, as he could easily smell her perfumed neck. He didn't complain, because as they continued to watch the fireworks, her hand was not grasping his robe anymore, but was around his back, and her other hand surreptitiously slipped to his leg. Unsure what to do with his other hand, Viktor decided to mimic her, and placed his own free hand up her thigh. First a finger, then another, then another, and then his palm, which he was ready to have removed, yet the request never came.
No, instead of that, the end of the firework show put on by the final year students found them slowly inching closer to one another, until their lips met, and he found himself pulling her closer, and for the first time, asserted himself in front of her, and to her, and with her, and to his surprise, she let him pull her closer, and let him put his hand in her hair, and she grasped him tightly. Viktor knew part of it was because she was afraid of falling off the broom, as she dug her nails in his robe and half-yelped in his mouth, laughing, each time the broom made a sudden movement. But he couldn't stop himself from making it move with a flick of his knee, if only to have her hold onto him tighter and tighter, and to have her laugh with her mouth pressed against his own.
They hadn't realised how late it was, until they finally parted their heads, and Viktor raised his eyes to see the moon right above them. Whatever time it was, it was too late. They couldn't hear any fireworks, any student, anything or anyone, save for whatever nocturnal birds were flying around them. Tania must have realised the same, as she let go of him and looked around herself, and wordlessly, they changed their positions on the broomstick until she was behind him again, and he hovered over the site of the fireworks.
It was late indeed, as the Year Eleven students had even finished packing up. Viktor raised them back up, above the treelines, and decided it was time to fly towards the castle.
"We can't go back at this hour." he told her, turning his head. "They'll give us both detention, and I can't afford a single mark in my folder, not this year."
"What do you propose?"
"I don't know. I'll drop you off nearby, and I'll just go up in a tree somewhere, come back at sunrise."
"Don't be stupid."
Viktor felt her rustling behind him, and he turned his head around, watching her look for something beneath them.
"There. Go there." she pointed to a dark brown mound that was easy to miss, and Viktor narrowed his eyes, realising he was looking at a wooden roof, and recognising what it was immediately.
The groundskeeper's cabin. One of many, on account of the immense grounds that Durmstrang covered - and hopefully, an empty one. After all, the groundskeeper only spent his nights in them in times of heavy rain or snowfall, or whenever any of the herds of various magical creatures were in birthing seasons, which meant that it was most likely empty.
And it was indeed.
Soon enough, they made themselves comfortable. Since tomorrow would be a Saturday, which meant there were no morning classes and most professors would not be even visible on the weekends, Viktor decided that at least until sunrise, they could stay in the cabin, and they could sneak in the moment movement was visible in the castle. He had already taken off his shoes and made himself comfortable on one half of the bed, watching Tania idly fiddle with the cabinets.
If he woke up at sunrise, there was enough time to get back, shower, have lunch, and then arrive at the Headmaster's office to Floo to his final afternoon round of try-outs for the national team.
"Cherry jam." Tania declared out of the blue, and Viktor raised his head, only to see a jar out of the corner of his eye and thankfully catch it at the last moment. "Good Seeker. It's crystallised, but it's still nice. Water. Hm, walnuts."
While he was pondering his plan for tomorrow, Tania seemed to have discovered the pantry, and she allowed herself to open a variety of jars and glasses, smelling and tasting them freely as she proclaimed this one was pickled cabbage, that one was water, this one was plum syrup, and one was-
"Oh, this is vile." she commented after smelling it. She voiced it in a strangled tone, to Viktor's great amusement. He raised himself and sniffed it as well, only to find out it was pure alcohol. "Relocates your nose, doesn't it?"
"There's a mushroom that grows around here, I heard that if you distil it through it, it's supposed to be nice."
"I know where you heard that from… Viktor Krum, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
Viktor woke up in the morning with the headache of a lifetime. He would have preferred to keep his eyes closed and keep the darkness under his pupils for a little while longer, but a pressure on his bladder beat the banging of his temples, and he jolted out of bed, throwing the wooden door open, forgetting for a second that he was not back in his dorm.
Thankfully, the sun was still under the horizon line, and the shock of opening his eyes wasn't that bad. And he still had plenty of time to reach the dorms, at least enough to nurse his headache and face any potential consequences with a clear head and a face that was not swollen from the night of alcohol.
He went back into the groundskeeper's cabin, and saw Tania sitting on a chair, bare legs stretched outside of one of the windows as she fiddled with the buttons on her robe. He wondered if he'd woken her up, but judging by how perky her 'Morning' salute sounded, without a single note of being hungover, he figured she must have been awake for a while.
"Careful, so you don't catch a cold." he grumbled, clearing his throat. He pulled out one of the glass water bottles they'd used last night to obliterate themselves drunk, and took a healthy swig of it.
She looked at him amused, and to his surprise, actually listened and pulled her legs back inside, closing the window.
"I've put a cleaning spell on your robe and jacket there, so all the smell of this place should be gone. Here." She threw the two at him, and he realised that she wasn't fiddling with her robe but his. He threw it over his head and trousers, and sniffed it. It smelt clean, not like mud, or alcohol, or old dust, or even the powder the Year Elevens used for the fireworks.
"Thanks. Look, I can't stay here for long, I've-"
"You've got that Quidditch try-out for the team later this afternoon, I know."
Viktor stopped buttoning his robe, and looked at her, vexed. He had only told Karkaroff, and he knew for a fact the Headmaster wasn't one to gossip or talk much to other students.
"How do you know?"
"You told me last night, what, can't you remember?" she laughed, before realisation dawned on her, and she laughed even harder. Viktor, however, failed to find anything funny in her answer. "Dear me, you don't remember. Do you remember when we kissed?"
"I do."
"Do you remember when we came here?"
"I do."
"Do you remember when we got that mushroom and distilled the alcohol the groundskeeper had?"
"I do."
"And when we went to bed, and I said that if our trousers stay on by the time it's morning, then that's good?"
"I do. And then I went to sleep. And then I woke up. And my trousers stayed on."
"No." she stated, her voice now taking on a serious note. "You didn't go to sleep, that is. Then we spoke. You told me you had Quidditch try-outs for the national team today. But you forgot. And you told me you were afraid to tell your dad if they don't accept you, and asked me for advice, but by your reaction as I'm telling you this, you forgot that too. And you told me you'd like to see me again and if I let you, that you'd like to kiss me again, and that if you make the national team-..." she looked up at his face, but Viktor did not remember this either, and he shook his head. Slowly, her face dropped, and her voice got smaller. And the more she spoke, the smaller Viktor's heart got as well. "And you forgot that too. You forgot it all, didn't you?"
He crouched down, his robe only half-buttoned, in front of her, and not knowing what else to do, put his hands on her bare knees, squeezing them. He didn't remember, but he must have meant it then, and if he didn't, he surely would have meant it now. Her hands grasped his, and she licked her lips, thinking carefully about her next words. Viktor's heart was beating in his chest, wondering what else he must have said - he hoped nothing akin to a declaration of love, or worse, intentions of marrying her, or even worse, he hoped he hadn't been crass or vulgar or asked her anything he would now be ashamed of. He listened to her closely as she spoke, her voice soft, careful not to break.
"How about when I told you that I have a fatal blood malediction, Viktor, do you remember that? When I told you we wouldn't live many happy days together, you and me?" His hangover had fully gone by now, and he wondered if she was joking, only to realise that her hands were holding him tighter and tighter, knuckles white. "You forgot it all, you dummy… What am I going to do with you, Viktor?" she chuckled bitterly, putting one hand on his cheek and brushing her palm against his jaw.
Viktor lowered his eyes, embarassed that he did not remember a single thing she had told him, or that he had told her. He pressed his forehead against her knees, who were still cold, and smelt of dew from the outside. He breathed in the smell, still not knowing what to say, and instead waited for her to speak again. He wondered what his reaction had been - judging however, by her telling him again, he had a glimmer of hope that it hadn't been an awful one, because he truly did not care about that. Even if he only had one more chance to kiss her or touch her skin, he'd take it. He raised his eyes to face her, and found her face slowly changing back into one of amusement.
"I'm a bit afraid, with you, you know?" she said, a grin creeping back onto her face as she gently patted his cheek. "Say… do you remember then, did we or didn't we?"
"We didn't." he said in an assured tone, and her response to his assertion was another hearty laugh. Viktor got back up, and pressed his lips against her forehead, finishing buttoning his robe.
"A lesson here is to never get more drunk than the girl you're with."
It was Viktor's turn to laugh this time as he put on his jacket, and went to look for his broom.
"Come on, pull up your trousers and let's go." he told her, before grabbing his broomstick and shoving the empty glass bottles behind empty ones.
1993, April
"Maybe after all's said and done, maybe we'll adopt you, hm? Vitya?"
Viktor was taken aback by the nonchalance with which Tania Danaga's father spoke. Out of politeness, he nodded in agreement, taking another sip of the strawberry liquor as he watched the old man raise himself from the table, slightly buzzed, and wipe the last remains of alcohol from his grey stubble, before waddling out of the kitchen. Before he turned the corner, he advised there's some more cheese and pickles in the pantry, before the two said their goodnights to each other, and Mr. Danaga left.
And thus, Viktor Krum remained alone, in his girlfriend's family's kitchen, with the entire house asleep, save for him and one of the three family cats.
Perhaps, he thought to himself, a bit ashamed of the fact that this thought had burrowed in his head, that would be nice indeed.
There was a part of him, and not a small part, worried that after Tania died, her family would perish together with her, at least for him - after all, Kiril Danaga proclaiming in a moment of cheery drunkenness that he would love to have Viktor around did not actually mean that when his eldest daughter would finally die, he, or anyone else from her family, would still want to see him.
With a sigh, Viktor sipped the last remains of his glass, before drinking a half-glass of water and tiptoeing back to Tania's bed, followed by the same cat purring from behind his feet. By now, his eyes had adjusted to the dark, and he could clearly see the shadow of Tania's back laying on the bed.
"I told you dad'll talk your ear off if he sees you. He loves company when he comes back late from the Ministry." she mumbled half-asleep, with her head buried in the pillow.
"I was hungry, what was I supposed to do?" he asked, closing the door behind himself and slowly climbing in the bed and on top of Tania. He pulled ringlets of her hair out of her face, until he saw her cheek, and kissed it. "That's what you get for dating a Quidditch player, you know we eat like giants."
"Did he get you to drink with him too? Viktor-" she turned her head away from him and buried it deeper in the pillow, pushing his face away. But she laughed, her laugh muffled in her pillow, and he laughed as well, and embraced her tightly. As he was on the cusp of falling into a dream, slowly, he felt her dig her face out from the pillow, and felt her moving him.
"Viktor. Are you sleeping?"
"Yes. Why?"
"That night, at the cabin, when you were drunk, those months ago. Do you remember?"
"As much as I can."
"I never told you I had a blood malediction that night. I wanted you to think I did, because I didn't want to know what would have been your first reaction to it."
"I know."
He lied. He didn't. But he didn't care that she lied. Because he didn't know himself what his first reaction would have been either. And he continued holding her, until they both fell back asleep, and the only noise audible, save for their breathing, was the cat's loud purring as it climbed on the small of his back. Soon enough, the spring holiday would end and they would have to return back to Durmstrang, where they could barely do more than share a touch in a dark corridor, but now, he could feel her body against his own for as long as he felt like it, and laugh with her, and joke and love her as much as he wanted to.
He lied easily to her. He found it easy, because he had to. For example, he loved her, but could not tell her - even in the few short months of their blossoming whirlwind romance, he was used to lying about this, because when she asked him about it point blank, she herself deliberately advised him to lie. He was not allowed to love her, because she could die any day, and she did not want him hurt, but he learnt to love her and live each day with it.
This first lie about his life was before she'd brought him to her parents, before he was invited to her house, but after he had told his father he made the Bulgarian National team, and after he told him that he met a girl, but that the girl had a blood malediction that would make her die soon. His father had asked him if he loved her, and if she loved him. And concluded that if they loved each other, then all was fine with him.
"Do you love me?" she asked him, before not giving him a second to respond. "And don't say you do, because you're an idiot if you do, and we will have nothing further to talk about."
"I don't." he lied. "But when I do, I'll make sure to tell you. Do you love me?"
"Madly."