The world cup was one of the most magical things Hermione had ever seen. Even if she was a witch. There were people from all over the planet. She really wanted to talk with the witches from Salem. But she was stuck with Harry and Ron, and she knew that they needed her.

Mr. Weasley wasn't exactly the most competent person when it came to all things muggle. He loved them, and was fascinated by them, but he had a lot to learn about using them.

Hermione had managed to write a few new notes on her arm in Bulgarian without drawing too much suspicion from anyone. She wanted to have enough on her arm that if He was around it would be obvious who she was.

And at the same time, she really didn't want to scream to the world "I have a soulmate!" That would be way too chaotic. And would probably get attention from the wrong people.

The more she thought about it, she was glad that her soulmate was someone she hadn't met yet. She was even more glad that it wasn't Ron or Harry. They were her best friends, but it would have been like being soulmates with your brother.

Up in the box watching the game, Hermione marveled at the spectacle. She doodled on the back of her hand, half hoping that the strange but alluring Bulgarian would write back to her. But then the seekers dive, and she finds herself clinging to the railing, fraught with worry.

She knew, logically, that she shouldn't be as nervous as she was. They played quiditch for their jobs. They knew what they were doing. And if someone did get hurt, there was a med-witch on duty.

But she couldn't let go of the railing. And she couldn't slow her racing heart. She felt like she couldn't breathe, as if she was flying and all the wind had been sucked out of her lungs.

"Did you see that?" Ron asked her.

She nodded, seeing the Irish seeker on the ground, in what looked like a painful heap. She felt sorry for the guy, but did think that he needed to pay more attention to his surroundings instead of just his opponent.

She had to admit that Viktor Krum was the better seeker. And for some reason that made the feeling of a band around her chest relax.

"I have to learn how to do that," Harry said.

Hermione shook her head, keeping her mouth shut. She really didn't need to get in the middle of the boys and their sports. It would be a fruitless attempt.

She watched the game on her omnoculars, going as slow as she liked so that she could actually see what was going on. And then something caught her eye. It was a little flicker of Viktor's arm, barely a glimmer, but she thought she knew what it was.

She paused the video. Zooming in, she saw her handwriting on his arm. Viktor Krum was her soulmate.

Pulling out the pen from her pocket, she wrote on her arm in Bulgarian.

I see you. At least, I think it was you. You're Viktor Krum, right?

A chorus of cheers erupted from the Irish side. Hermione looked up to see that Viktor had caught the snitch. A wave of happiness and relief filled her, and his sleeves slid down his arm as he raised his hands in the air.

"Hey look, Mione. Krum writes on his arm," Ron told her. "What do you think those are?"

"Probably quiditch notes," Hermione said. She really didn't want to tell anyone that Viktor had a soulmate. Not that most people even knew that sharing writing was a thing since soulmates weren't exactly the most common thing in the world.

Ron nodded his head. It seemed like the most sensible answer. He was looking over at Fred and George who were looking very pleased with themselves for guessing the outcome of the game.

Hermione sat back down in her chair, glad to have some sort of clue as to what life might hold. But she really didn't know about how she felt about her soulmate being an international quiditch star. She didn't even really like quiditch that much.

She was about to follow the rest of them down the stairs and back to their tents. She was tired and ready to sleep, especially with the early morning she had had.

She headed towards the rickety stairs, desperately trying to focus on just the few inches in front of her instead of the distance between her and the ground. She really hated heights. They terrified her. But instead of going down the stairs like she had planned, she walked into a very muscular person.

"Excuse me," she said sheepishly. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and forced herself to look up at the person she had run into. And her jaw dropped as she realized who it was.

Viktor Krum, seeker for the Bulgarian national quiditch team was standing in front of her, blood on his face and his nose broken. She instinctively pulled out her wand.

"May I?"

He nodded. Apparently he didn't like speaking to strange witches.

"Episky."

And his nose was healed. He looked much better, even if there wasn't too much that could be done about the blood on his face. He hadn't taken care of it during the game, and it had dried so he couldn't just wipe it off. And cleaning spells didn't work as well on skin.

"Fank you," he said.

"You're welcome," Hermione said. She could feel a blush spreading over her cheeks and she knew why. But even as embarrassed as she was, she had to let him know who she was.

She pulled up the sleeve of her left arm showing their conversation. "I'm Hermione Granger."

Viktor took her hand and kissed it. "It vas very nice to be meeting you Miss Granger."

She blushed harder and headed down the stairs, stealing one last glance at the quiditch player who seemed to be stealing her heart.