Chapter Text
Hermione's heart raced as Viktor leaned in closer. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, the scent of smoke and sweat mingling with the sharp tang of the burn salve she had applied. A flush crept up her neck as she fought the urge to close the distance between them, to feel his lips on hers again.
"You should rest," she murmured, unable to tear her eyes away from his slightly chapped, soft lips.
Viktor shook his head adamantly. "Ne, being vith you is better than rest." He reached for her hand, his calloused fingers intertwining with hers. "Ve need to talk, Her-my-oh-knee."
Hermione smiled, gently squeezing Viktor's hand. "No, you need to rest, Viktor. Your burn is barely healing, and well, you look awful."
He chuckled, his mouth quirking into a lopsided smile. "I knov, but vant to talk about us ."
"Not now," Hermione insisted. "You're exhausted. You're hurt. You need to sleep."
"But Her—" Viktor began, only to be cut off by Hermione.
"No, Viktor." She shook her head. "We can talk about this later when you're feeling better. Right now, you need to focus on getting some rest."
Viktor opened his mouth to protest, but Hermione raised a hand, silencing him. "Please, just rest. For me?"
He held her gaze for a long moment. Under the weight of his gaze, Hermione's heart skipped a beat. Finally, he gave a reluctant sigh. "Very vell, for you. But ve vill talk soon, da?"
Hermione offered him a small smile. "Yes, later."
"Okay, скъпа, " he conceded, bringing her hand to his lips and pressing a featherlight kiss against her knuckles.
Her skin tingled deliciously. "What did you say?"
The corner of his mouth lifted a slow and deliberate smile, that made her stomach flutter with butterflies. "It means darling."
"Oh, I um-see." She bit her lip, feeling heat flood her cheeks. Though she had never been one for nicknames, she found that she rather liked this one
Darling .
"I call you that, yes?" He tilted his head, a smirk on his face. "Is okay?"
She nodded.
"Tell me, Her-my-oh-knee."
She nodded again. "Y-yes it's okay."
Viktor scooped up her hands again and kissed her knuckles, his lips lingered there for a second.
The bond flickered. But it was as if something was blocking it, smothering it.
Hermione's brow furrowed with worry. She reached her magic towards him, but once again it felt almost brittle, lukewarm, nothing like this usual searing magic, that set her skin and soul on fire.
His eyes softened as he looked at her, his fingers gently playing with hers. But the dull drum of his magic bothered her.
"Viktor, please, you need to rest," she urged, placing her free hand on his chest. "You should be lying down, not sitting up like this."
All Viktor did was hum, his dark eyes never leaving hers, as he said, "I cannot rest, not vhen you are so close," while lovingly caressing the back of her hand with his thumb.
Hermione felt her cheeks grow warm. "Viktor, you're being ridiculous. You need to focus on getting better, not—" She paused, unsure of how to proceed. "Not on...on me."
"I do not vant to miss the beauty of your eyes. They are like a spell, one I do not vish to be free of." His eyes roamed her face, "I vould like to say I like you, but I cannot." Hermione furrowed her brow, but Viktor continued, "You fascinate me, you are art that I cannot stop looking at."
"Oh." She licked her lips and couldn't help but stare at Viktor's lips, the way they moved as he spoke, the way they curved into a smile when he looked at her. She felt herself being drawn in, unable to resist the pull between them.
Viktor's dark eyes flickered with desire as he leaned in closer, his finger lifted to her face lightly tracing the outline of her lips. Hermione's breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest as she leaned in.
She peered up at him through her lashes, her gaze locking with his. He was looking at her with a raw, primal want that made her heart leap wildly.
"Viktor," she said in a shaky breath.
"скъпа."
She wet her lips, waiting for him to lean in and capture her lips in his. But he didn't. He only stared at her with those eyes that held entire galaxies in them.
"Viktor," she called out again. His eyes darted to her lips, clenching his jaw, and he pushed himself away.
She snatched his robes. "Don't."
The Bulgarian hesitated for a moment as if fighting an internal battle. But then, with a low growl, he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers.
The kiss started slow, clumsy as if Hermione and Viktor were both trying to figure out how to fit together. But then, it grew more passionate, more urgent.
As their lips locked awkwardly, her heart raced. It was as if she was floating on air, her senses overwhelmed by the bond. She could taste the sweetness of his lips and the slight bitterness of smoke.
Their tongues met clumsily, tripping over each other and fumbling as they tried to find their rhythm. There were awkward pauses and stuttered movements as they fumbled to find a rhythm that felt comfortable for both of them. But Hermione didn't care. All she wanted was to get more of him.
They pulled back briefly, their eyes darting around in a combination of embarrassment and confusion, they both smiled before leaning in again, hoping that the second time would be better.
As their lips parted again, Viktor's tongue slowly darted across her lips, gently nudging her to open up a bit more. She hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do, but then she decided to let him take the lead. With every peck, every lick, she felt her nerves dissolve.
His tongue danced with hers, making her skin burn hotter.
Her hands roamed over his broad shoulders, feeling the muscles tense beneath her touch.
Their breaths came in ragged gasps as they lost themselves in the passion of the kiss. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced before - natural, devoted, and utterly intoxicating.
Her mind was a whirl of sensations, her thoughts consumed by the feel of Viktor's lips on hers, the taste of him, the sound of his low growl as he deepened the kiss. She felt herself being swept away, lost in the moment.
His hands found her back and hovered, almost touching her. It was torture, even with their lips locked together she wanted more, needed more of his touches. She squirmed in her seat trying to get his hands on her, Viktor though froze, his hands dropping.
"No," she gasped. "You can touch."
Viktor froze again, and she hoped that he would somehow understand— somehow would get her double meaning.
His hands slowly traveled from her arms to her back, the warmth of his palms sending tingles throughout her skin. They stayed there for a second, and Hermione nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She wanted this, wanted him to touch her. His light touches became more needy, his hands roaming over her back, pulling her closer until she could feel the heat of his body against hers. Hermione sighed, leaning into him, reveling in him .
She knew that this was wrong, that they were breaking all the rules. But she couldn't bring herself to care. It was rather strange really, she couldn't breathe, but somehow she found her breath in front of her— in Viktor .
All she wanted was to be with him, to lose herself in his arms and while the thought should have terrified her, she realized that that's exactly what she wanted. As he continued to kiss her she felt an intense wave of desire wash over her. Her body was alive with sensation, every touch sending tingles down to her cunt. She could feel herself growing more aroused by the second as she pressed herself closer to him. Her hands roamed over his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt. Her mind was filled with images of him - his strong, muscular form, the features of his face, his crooked nose, and the way his eyes seemed to hold a world just for her.
She leaned further into the kiss, her body begging for more. Her hands roamed his arms, before intertwining her hands with his.
Hermione broke the kiss, needing to catch her breath.
In that instant, everything rushed back. They were in the champion's tent, he had just faced a dragon, and he was hurt and tired. Merlin, he had just faced a dragon and here she was snogging him.
She looked at Viktor, his eyes dark with desire. She knew she should stop, that they needed to be careful, but it was so hard to resist him.
"Viktor," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You need to rest."
He looked at her, his eyes never leaving her lips. "No," he said, his voice low and husky. His smoky eyes found hers, "Dis is many better."
She swallowed, trying to resist that gravitational pull of his eyes. "Much."
He beamed at her, making his handsome face come to life. "Much."
Oh no.
Hermione had to back away and dart her eyes because if she didn't, she would surely attack his lips again.
"Viktor," she spoke again, her voice stronger this time. "You need to rest. You're still injured."
He looked at her, his gaze intense. " не. (No). I do not care about dat," he said. "Only you."
Hermione felt her heart swell at his words. She knew she should be careful, that they were taking a risk, but she couldn't help herself. She leaned in again but stopped herself. She pulled away from Viktor.
"We need to stop," she said, her voice shaking. "Madam Pomfrey could come in."
Viktor looked at her, eyes darkened. There was a tinge to his cheeks as he tried to control his breath. He hummed and studied her face like he was seeing her for the first time. "Da." He gently cupped her cheeks, "I am lucky vizard to haff you as mine , Her-my-oh-knee." His thumb caressed her cheek, and he leaned impossibly close, their lips brushing. "So lucky."
"Viktor, please," she tried again, breathlessly. The bond pulsed with fervor. "You need to lay down and rest," she tried to convince him as each word brushed against his lips. "Please."
He seemed to consider her words for a moment, his expression blank. Then, with a resigned sigh, he finally leaned back against the cot, his fingers still intertwined with hers.
Viktor pressed his lips together. "For you, скъпа ."
Hermione smiled. "Thank you."
She gently pressed her hand against Viktor's broad chest, applying just enough pressure to encourage him to recline back onto the cot.
Viktor leaned back, his eyes already half-lidded as exhaustion overtook him. Hermione watched as his breathing slowed and his body relaxed, slipping into a much-needed rest.
"Ve vill talk later, yes?"
Hermione nodded. "Yes, but now get some rest."
She couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt, she had only been thinking about herself. About her throbbing wants. She pulled her hand away, not wanting to disturb his slumber.
"Благодаря ти, скъпа" ( Thank you, darling.)
He blinked at her a couple of times before he dozed off.
There was something rather intimate about watching him fall asleep that made her heart flutter.
With a flick of her wand, she cast a cooling charm over the burn.
Viktor's hand remained entwined with hers, his grip surprisingly strong even sleeping. Hermione studied his face, committing every detail to memory.
He was handsome.
And he was her boyfriend.
Impulsively, she leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, her lips lingering for a heartbeat before she reluctantly pulled away.
With a wistful sigh, she turned her attention to the other side of the tent.
She approached Harry's cot. He looked so peaceful asleep, not like the tense, scared boy from before the task. A smile tugged at her lips – he was safe for now .
Gently, Hermione brushed a stray lock of hair from Harry's forehead.
Though she had been terrified for his safety, Hermione couldn't help but feel proud of Harry's bravery and strength.
Hermione stepped out of the tent, her brow creased with a frown.
Just beyond the flap, Ginny and Slovoda were locked in a heated discussion, their voices rising and falling in an agitated back-and-forth.
Slovoda's handsome smirk spread across his face as he fired back at Ginny.
"No, Miss Veas-ley you're vrong," Slovoda said. "The Vratsa Vultures are the best Quidditch team in European League."
Ginny's eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms. "That's bollocks! The Appleby Arrows are way better. Their Chasers are unbeatable."
Slovoda laughed and shook his head. "You say that because you're British." He cocked his head to the side as he peered down at the redhead. "The Vultures have von three championships in a rov. Wot haff the Arrovs done?"
Ginny opened her mouth to retort but stopped when she noticed Hermione approaching them. Slovoda's gaze followed Ginny's, and a playful smirk spread even further across his face.
"Ah, Miss Grain-ger," he purred. "Hov is our champion doing?"
Hermione felt her cheeks flush. "He's...fine," she managed. "Just resting."
Ginny arched an eyebrow, her lips curling into a mischievous grin. "Is that so? And how do you know?"
Hermione's blush deepened, and she averted her gaze, suddenly finding the ground very interesting.
"Well, you know, I assume, that's all."
"Breaking rules to visit your boyfriend , are we?" Ginny teased, her eyes sparkling with delight.
Hermione's head snapped up, her eyes wide, caught by surprise. "Boyfriend?" Her face turned a brilliant shade of red. He was her boyfriend, but the word felt like it was real, and she just realized she hadn't processed that Viktor was indeed her boyfriend. "I mean...we...just..." She trailed off, flustered.
Ginny's eyebrows lifted in surprise, her gaze darting to Slovoda before returning to the curly-haired witch. The Russian mirrored Ginny's reaction.
"Wait, seriously?" Ginny asked slowly. "You're not having me on, are you?"
Hermione nodded shyly. Ginny and Slovoda's eyes settled on her. She felt the weight of their curious gazes. Nervously, she toyed with the delicate chain, the tiny golden Snitch swaying gently.
"I...well, no," Hermione stammered.
Ginny's gaze repeatedly flicked to the necklace resting on Hermione's neck, her eyebrows furrowing.
Slovoda's handsome features shifted into a devilish grin, and he pulled back his sleeve to reveal a black and white bracelet. He pointed his wand to it and a stone flew to his hand. He weaved three patterns with his wand and the stone transformed into a gleaming Quaffle pendant on a sturdy chain.
"For you, Miss Veas-ley," he said, his voice low and smooth. "Better than snitch, no?"
Ginny's eyes widened, and she hesitated for a moment before accepting the necklace. Her fingers brushed against Slovoda's as she took it, and Hermione swore she saw a faint blush creep across the redhead's cheeks.
"Thank you," Ginny murmured, her gaze flicking up to meet Slovoda's.
The tall Russian's smile widened, and he leaned closer to Ginny, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "The pleasure is all mine Miss Vea-sley," Slovoda purred.
He took a step back and gave a slight bow.
"Vell, ladies, I must be off," Slovoda hummed.
He turned to Hermione, taking her hand in his and bringing it to his lips. "Miss Grain-ger, I hope to see you later."
Slovoda released her hand, and he shifted his attention to Ginny, reaching for her hand as well.
Ginny's eyes narrowed, and she swiftly pulled her hand away, her lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't think so," she hissed.
Slovoda chuckled. "Ah, Miss Veas-ley, always so feisty." He made another attempt to grasp her hand, but Ginny was quicker, her balled fist swinging up in a swift motion.
Hermione's eyes widened as Slovoda deftly caught Ginny's hand, his fingers wrapping around her wrist. He pulled her closer, his face mere inches from hers, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Nov, nov," Slovoda purred, "is that any vay to treat a guest?" Without warning, he brought Ginny's hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to her knuckles. " Miss ."
The redhead's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Hermione was sure she was going to hex him. But instead, she snatched her hand away, her face flushed.
"Don't call me that," Ginny snapped, her voice sharp. "And keep your grimy hands to yourself, Slovoda." She rubbed her hand, her freckled face a lovely shade of pink as she looked away from him. "By Merlin's beard you're insufferable," she spat.
Slovoda merely grinned. "Perhaps, but you seem to find me...fun, no?" He winked at the redhead.
Ginny scoffed. "Merlin no!" She crossed her arms and glared at him. "Don't you have someone else to pester?"
"I do," he agreed. He smiled, the corner of his eyes crinkling, "but you are my favorite."
The redhead rolled her eyes.
"If I was your favorite you'd let me win," Ginny huffed, crossing her arms defiantly.
Slovoda's smile only widened, his striking blue eyes twinkled. "And vhere is the fun in that?" he purred, leaning in closer to Ginny. "If I did that, I could not vatch you fly or see your hair come to life in the vind." He paused, his gaze sweeping over Ginny's form. "And besides you vould not like an easy vin."
Hermione felt a flush creep up her neck. She shifted her weight, suddenly feeling like an intruder in their private moment.
Ginny's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Hermione thought she might hex the Durmstrang student this time. But instead, the redhead let out a frustrated huff and rolled her eyes. "You're impossible," she muttered. Hermione narrowed her eyes as she examined her friend's ghost of a smile.
Slovoda chuckled. "Yes." He winked at the redhead. Hermione's brow furrowed, why wasn't Ginny hexing him?
He flashed a dazzling smile and cocked his head to the side. "I am afraid I must go." The blonde gave a slight bow again, his gaze lingering on the redhead for a moment longer. "Do not miss me too much, okay? I vill not sleep if you do."
Ginny rolled her eyes, but Hermione caught the faint blush that crept across her cheeks. "Goodbye, Slovoda."
He turned and strode away.
"What was that all about?" Hermione asked.
Ginny shrugged, tossing the Quaffle from hand to hand. "Beats me. He's always been a bit of an odd one."
Hermione hummed. "Are you guys friends?"
"No."
"Are you sure? It looked like you guys were quite friendly ."
The redhead snorted. "Yeah, I'm sure. He's an annoying git."I don't know how anyone can be friends with him. Merlin, that bloke is infuriating."
She flashed Hermione a mischievous grin. "But enough about Slovoda, tell me about you and Krum."
"What about us?"
"Well, for starters, you can tell me how you two lovebirds ended up together. Last time we talked you weren't even sure if he liked you and here you are now, Viktor Krum's girlfriend." Ginny linked her arm through Hermione's, steering them towards the stands. "I want all the juicy details," she said wiggling her brows.
Hermione bit her lip, trying to suppress a smile. "There's not much to tell, really. We went on a date to Hogsmeade yesterday," she admitted. "And...well, he asked me to be his girlfriend today. Well, I guess more like told, I suppose."
"You suppose?" Ginny raised an eyebrow. "And you're okay with that? Him telling you, not asking you."
The curly-haired witch licked her lips, a slight furrow forming. Why had she been okay with it? "I think so?"
"So you like being told not asked," Ginny's smile turned wicked, "kinky Granger."
Hermione whipped her head around, utterly mortified. "Ginny!"
"What? It's true."
"No! It is certainly not true!"
Ginny laughed. "Sure it's not." Ginny's lips curved into a soft smile. "Well, if he makes you happy, then that's all that matters." Her smile faltered slightly, and she averted her gaze.
"Ginny?"
"Yeah?"
"Is everything okay?"
Ginny shrugged, her expression guarded. "It's fine, I guess."
Hermione studied her friend's face, sensing there was more she wasn't saying. "You know you can talk to me, right? If something's bothering you..."
Ginny sighed, her shoulders slumping. "It's just...I don't know if Dean and I are really working out, you know? The bond is still there, but it feels stale like we are just there for the sake of being there. "
Hermione reached out and gave Ginny's arm a gentle squeeze. "Oh, Ginny."
Ginny managed a small smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm sure it'll all work out, one way or another. Anyway, enough about that. How's Harry?"
"Harry is okay. Madam Pomfrey set his break and he's sleeping."
"And Krum?"
"He's okay as well. He is exhausted and burned" Hermione scoffed. "I pretty much had to force him to let me tend to his injury."
"Oh, you had to force him, did you? My, my Granger, getting a bit handsy are we?" Ginny wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and elbowed Hermione playfully.
"What! No." The curly-haired witch suddenly felt her face flush.
Ginny hummed. "So you are telling me you didn't touch him?"
Hermione felt the flush creep up her neck. "No! It's not like that at all! It's just that you know, he wouldn't let me. He was so stubborn and kept refusing my help." She shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "But I finally got him to agree."
Ginny's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Oh, I bet you did." She nudged Hermione's side. "And just how did you manage to convince the great, stoic, Viktor Krum, hmm?"
Hermione felt her cheeks grow even warmer. "Ginny! I didn't - it wasn't like that." She huffed, glancing away. "I just...talked to him, that's all."
"Uh-huh, sure." Ginny grinned impishly. "I bet you 'talked' to him real good. A real heart-to-heart... or should I say, lip-to-lip?"
Hermione's head whipped back, eyes wide. "Ginny!"
Ginny laughed, throwing an arm around Hermione's shoulders. "Relax, I'm just teasing." She wiggled her eyebrows. "Though the way you two look at each other, I'm surprised you haven't snogged senseless already."
Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Ginny cut her off with a wink. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me." She squeezed Hermione's shoulder affectionately. "I'm happy for you, really."
Hermione let out a huff, but a small smile tugged at her lips. "Thanks, Ginny." Hermione toyed with the hem of her sweater. "He tried to be strong, but he was in so much pain. The bond too, felt...weak."
"The bond felt weak? That's not too surprising, really. Krum just poured a ton of magic into that task. Keeping all those transfigurations going must have been magically exhausting. That's why the bond felt weak. He used a lot of magic and since the bond works off magic, there was little left of his magic for the bond to use."
"I suppose that makes sense. I just...I couldn't help but worry, you know?" She sighed, her gaze drifting towards the tent.
Ginny offered her a reassuring smile. "No, I see what you mean. But once his magic is replenished he should be back to normal. Just give it some time."
"You're right," Hermione said with a sigh.
As they climbed the steps to the stands, the champions emerged from the Tent. The roar of the crowd grew louder with each step, cheers and chants echoing across the stadium.
Hogwarts students were a wild mass of scarlet and gold, their voices raised for Angelina. Across the way, the Beauxbatons students looked elegant in their pale blue uniforms, their eyes sparkling with excitement as they cheered for Delacour.
Ginny tugged at Hermione's sleeve. "Come on, this way."
They navigated through the crowded stands and settled into empty seats near the front. A hush fell over the stadium as Mr Bagman strode to the center of the arena. He raised his wand to his throat, amplifying his voice.
"Ladies and gentlemen, witches and wizards!" he bellowed. "It is my great honor to announce the results of the first task of the Triwizard Tournament!"
The air thrummed with energy, and Hermione felt her heart hammering. Bagman grinned, soaking in the adulation of the crowd. The silence hung heavy, anticipation palpable. "In fourth place, with thirty-eight points, is Harry Potter of Hogwarts!"
Hermione's heart dropped. Last place? But he worked so hard.
Polite clapping and some cheers echoed but were quickly drowned out by Slytherin laughter. "In third place, with forty-two points, is Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons!"
The Beauxbatons students erupted in cheers. "And now, we have a tie for first place! With forty-five points each, Viktor Krum of Durmstrang and Angelina Johnson of Hogwarts!"
The stadium erupted in cheers. Hermione's heart swelled with pride as Viktor accepted the praise with a simple shake of his head.
Hermione watched Headmaster Karkaroff's face twist with fury, his eyes narrowing dangerously as they fixed on Angelina. A vein throbbed visibly in his temple as he leaned forward, his eyes burning with barely restrained fury. It looked as though he might leap over the railing and assault the Hogwarts champion.
Her breath hitched.
Professor Dumbledore's hand gently landed on the Russian headmaster's shoulder. Karkaroff inhaled sharply, shrugging off the older wizard's touch with a jerk.
Ginny's ecstatic cheers jolted Hermione back to reality. The fiery Gryffindor was on her feet, whooping and hollering for their house champions. Hermione joined the chorus of jubilation.
The champions retreated into the tent as Mr Bagman thanked everyone for their attendance. The crowd began to disperse towards the castle.
Ginny tugged at Hermione's sleeve to join the throng of Gryffindors gathering outside the champion's tent. "Ginny, I think I'm going to head back to the castle," Hermione said, her eyes on the tent entrance.
The last two people she wanted to see were inside the tent. She didn't want to ruin her good mood by having to share a space with the Russian Headmaster or Skeeter.
Ginny turned, brow furrowed. "What? Don't you want to see Harry and Krum?"
"I do, but I'm sure they'll both be busy getting interviewed by Skeeter. I'd rather not intrude... or see her if possible."
Ginny nodded, "Alright if you're sure. I'll go with you," she said with a smile.
"You don't have to."
"Nah, it's alright, I'll see them both later anyway."
As they neared the castle, Ginny suddenly stopped, her eyes widening as she spotted Dean. With a quick apology and a promise to catch up later, she ran to join him.
The common room was already a boisterous celebration even without the champions, filled with laughter, cheers, and clinking butterbeer bottles.
Hermione wondered if a similar party was happening on the Durmstrang ship for Viktor. Would they be cheery or would they still be a serious bunch?
Hermione was so lost in thought that she didn't notice Ron until he was standing right next to her.
"Hermione, can we talk?" he asked, his voice hesitant.
Anger suddenly flared in her chest.
"I don't know, Ron," she said, her voice tight. "Are you sure you want to be seen talking to a whore like me?"
Ron flinched, his face falling. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I was an arse. I never should have said those things to you."
Hermione's eyes narrowed as she stared at Ron, her chest heaving with a mixture of anger and hurt.
"Sorry isn't going to cut it this time, Ron," she said, her voice trembling. "Do you have any idea how much those words hurt me? How they made me feel?"
Ron opened his mouth, but Hermione held up a hand, stopping him. She needed to get this out.
"We're supposed to be best friends, but you turned on me so quickly, all because of some stupid rumors." Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away furiously. "I would never do things like that. I thought you knew me better. But even if I did, you or for that fact anyone, wouldn't have the right to judge me, criticize me for my decisions! For things I do with my body."
Ron's face crumpled. "I do know you, Hermione. That's why I feel so bloody awful about it. I just-ugh! I mean, I wasn't thinking." He inhaled, and his blue eyes met hers. "When I heard people saying you and Harry," he grunted and ran a hand through his hair. "And then you know you the stuff with you and George and how you were...you know...I lost it. The idea of you two together just drove me mental."
Hermione's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why would that bother you so much? Unless..." Her eyes widened as realization struck her. "Ron, are you...jealous of George?"
"What! Don't be daft! Why would I be jealous because of you?"" He hissed, clenched his jaw, and took another deep breath. "No! Look, I'm really sorry, okay? I was a bloody git, and you didn't deserve any of that shite. Can you please forgive me?"
Hermione worried her lower lip, her anger slowly deflating as she took in Ron's regretful expression. Could she forgive him?
"Mione, please . I miss you and Harry," he confessed. "It's not the same without you two."
He missed her?
He continued, "Don't you want to be friends again?"
He really did look like he was sorry. As hurt as she was, she knew holding onto her rage wouldn't do any good. Ron did have a tendency to speak without thinking when he was angry. His blue eyes softened and he gave her a shaky smile. Even as hurt as she was, it wouldn't change the fact that he was still one of the only people here who bothered giving her the time of day. He was still her friend. He just made a mistake. Plus, Harry missed him. She missed him. She needed to forgive him for Harry's sake. With a weary sigh, she gave the smallest of nods.
"Okay, fine, I forgive you," she said softly. "But it's going to take some time to move past this, Ron. You really hurt me."
Relief washed over Ron's features. "I know, and I'll spend as long as it takes making it up to you, I swear!"
He reached out as if to hug her but thought better of it and dropped his arms to his sides. An awkward silence filled the space between them.
"I should...I need to go," Hermione said finally, unable to bear the weight of Ron's searching, expectant gaze a moment longer.
As she turned and hurried away, she could feel his eyes burning into her back. Her mind was a tangled mess of conflicting thoughts and emotions - anger, hurt, confusion...and the faintest stirrings of something that felt unsettlingly like hope.
Ron was her friend. Even if he made a mistake, he was sorry.
He cared for her.
Hermione hurried up the stairs towards her dormitory.
There, lying on her neatly made bed, was a crisp envelope bearing the Hogwarts seal. Hermione's heart skipped a beat as she scooped it up, instantly recognizing the looping handwriting that spelled out her name - Dumbledore's unmistakable penmanship.
A cold knot of apprehension twisted in Hermione's gut as she stared at the crisp envelope lying on her bed. She tried to rip it open, but the thick parchment refused to open. Hermione pressed the tip of her wand against the seal, whispering a quiet Alohomora . The envelope obediently split open.
Miss Granger,
Please report to my office at your earliest convenience. The password is "Fizzing Whizbee."
Regards,
Professor Albus Dumbledore
Hermione stared at the letter, her brow furrowed in confusion. She set the crisp parchment on her bed and started changing out of her uniform.
What could the headmaster possibly want to discuss with her?
By the time Hermione walked down the staircase into the common room the room had grown more… rowdy. Students bounced from one group to another, laughing and talking excitedly as they celebrated Harry and Angelina. Tables were filled with snacks and pitchers of pumpkin juice, and banners with both champions' names hung on the walls.
Her eyes were immediately drawn to the center of the crowd, where Harry and Angelina stood together, passing around a large goblet that Hermione seriously doubted was filled with butterbeer. Angelina had her arm draped around Harry's shoulder. She said something that made the group burst into laughter, though Hermione couldn't quite catch what it was.
Harry looked happy, his unruly black hair even messier than usual. Despite just having faced a dragon he appeared radiant, his cheeks flushed with a rosy glow and his green eyes shining with a glassy, almost euphoric gleam. An infectious smile stretched across his face.
As Hermione made her way across the raucous common room towards the portrait hole, a hand suddenly reached out and gently grasped her wrist, the touch tickled her skin. She spun around, her curls whipping across her face, to find Fred grinning at her mischievously.
"And where do you think you're going, Granger?" The strong scent of firewhisky wafted off his breath, a sly smile on his lips as he leaned too close, his tall figure towering over her. He pressed his arm against the wall beside her, trapping her in place, his presence suddenly overwhelming in the small space. She could feel the heat radiating off him, his breath brushed against her loose curls. The bond stirred beneath her skin, making her squirm under his playful gaze.
Fred's eyes flicked to the delicate golden necklace resting against Hermione's collarbone. For a moment, something dark and primal flashed across his face, but he quickly hid it with his familiar, mischievous grin.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" he murmured, reaching out to grasp the small snitch pendant dangling from the chain. His thumb brushed against Hermione's skin as he lifted the necklace, sending an unwanted shiver racing down her spine.
Hermione's cheeks turned red. Up close, the strong smell of firewhisky on Fred's breath was overwhelming, making her head spin. "Is that from your new boyfriend, Granger?" he teased, but instead of his normal nonchalant tone his voice was low and bitter.
She blinked at him, the smell stinging her nose. "Fred, are you drunk?" Hermione asked, leaning back against the wall to put some space between them.
Rather than answer, he simply let out a bark of laughter that was just a touch too loud. "Me? Drunk?" Fred scoffed, shaking his head in mock offense. His hand dropped from her necklace, but he made no move to back away, effectively pinning her against the cool stone again. "I'll have you know, my sweet Granger, that I can hold my firewhisky better than anyone in this bloody castle."
Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that there was something off-- different beneath that playful facade—something darker that made the hair on the back of her neck prickle. This wasn't the Fred she knew, but then again did she really know him?
"So," he drawled, that infuriatingly smug grin still plastered across his face, "I'll ask you again... where you off to in such a hurry?"
Hermione bristled at his arrogant tone, but the bond stirred restlessly beneath her skin.
Fred's grin widened as he looked her up and down slowly. "Ain't it a bit late to be sneaking off Granger?" His brown eyes sparkled as they browsed her face. "Meeting someone?"
"Actually yes. Professor Dumbledore asked to see me." She stepped to the side, clenching the letter.
The tall ginger ticked his tongue. "Is that so?" He stepped in front of her, blocking her path again, and leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low tone.
"Yes! That's exactly so!"
Fred's grin only widened at her heated response. He leaned back, arms crossed over his chest as he looked her up and down slowly. "Alright, alright. No need to get your knickers in a twist, Granger."
Hermione rolled her eyes and straightened her spine her grip tightening around Dumbledore's letter. "You're going to make me late Fred, please move."
Fred's gaze dropped to the parchment clenched in her fist, and he arched an eyebrow curiously. Before Hermione could react, he snatched the letter from her grasp with quick, deft fingers.
"Hey!" She reached for it instinctively, but Fred easily held it just out of her reach, using his height advantage to dangle the letter overhead tauntingly.
She tried to snatch it again but suddenly became aware that her chest almost touched his, so instead she glared at him.
"'Miss Granger, please report to my office,'" Fred read aloud in a poor imitation of Dumbledore's dignified tone. He tsked, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "Always the teacher's pet, aren't you?"
Heat flooded Hermione's cheeks. She hated that incessant accusation—the implication that she was some sort of insufferable know-it-all who only cared about following rules and currying favor with professors. Clenching her fists, Hermione glared up at the infuriatingly smug grin on Fred's face.
"Give that back," she demanded, her voice low and tight with restrained anger.
Fred's grin widened a fraction as he met her furious gaze, clearly enjoying getting such a rise out of her. He took a step closer, crowding into her personal space until his chest was just inches from hers. The thick, smoky scent of firewhisky surrounded Hermione, making her head swim.
"You know, Granger..." Fred drawled, his voice dropping to a lower timbre that made something in Hermione's stomach twist. "Sometimes I think you need to learn how to relax and have a bit of fun."
He let the letter dangle tantalizingly in front of her face. Hermione snatched for it again, but Fred easily pulled it away with a soft chuckle. "Come on now, live a little. I'm sure old Dumbledore can wait."
His gaze raked over her in a way that made Hermione's skin prickle with awareness. There was something dark and heated lurking in those whiskey-brown eyes. Fred's tongue darted out to wet his lips slowly, and Hermione found her eyes following the movement against her will.
Her brows furrowed as she wildly shook her head.
"Unless..." A wicked grin curved Fred's lips as he leaned in even closer, his warm breath ghosting over Hermione's cheek. "You want to go find a closet."
A scandalized flush crept up Hermione's neck. She opened her mouth to deliver a scathing retort, but the words caught in her throat as Fred reached out with his free hand. His calloused fingertips grazed her jaw, tilting her chin up to meet his darkly amused gaze.
"I had no idea you were such a naughty girl, Granger," Fred murmured, his voice pitched low. "Gotta say, I'm impressed."
Hermione tried to pull back, to put some distance between them, but she found herself frozen in place—caught in the smoldering heat of Fred's gaze. Her pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out the raucous celebration still unfolding around them. The bond hummed restlessly beneath her skin, thrumming in time with her pounding heart.
Her breath caught in her throat as his closeness enveloped her senses. The heat of his body, the spicy notes of his cologne, the roughness of his voice - it all combined into a dizzying swirl that made her head spin. She could feel her heartbeat pounding in her ears as he pulled back just enough to meet her widened gaze.
But then a pair of obsidian eyes were staring at her. She clenched her jaw tight. He was playing with her.
" Enough of your games! I'm not interested, Fred. Now, if you'll excuse me—"
"Aw, come on, Granger," Fred cajoled, his hand reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, but Hermione swatted his hand away."You're always so serious. Lighten up a bit, yeah? I promise I can show you a good time."
She violently jerked away. "I said, I'm not interested," she hissed. She reached for her necklace, while her other hand went for her wand. "Now move!"
But the ginger didn't move, his eyes lingered on the tiny snitch before he clenched his jaw.
Hermione was sure the alcohol was messing with his brain. It was the only explanation for this newfound interest in making fun of her.
He'd never shown any real interest in her. Whenever they talked, it was to tease her about being a bookworm or being too uptight. He had never really looked at her either.
Well, that was until now. The look he was giving her made her feel like he was actually looking at her. It was almost the same look Viktor gave her.
She scoffed.
How utterly ridiculous.
"Professor Dumbledore is waiting, and I need to go." She demanded, her hand hoisted over her wand.
Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the smoldering look vanished from Fred's face. He grinned cheekily and took a step back.
Fred held up his hands in a placating gesture, a lopsided grin spreading across his face. "Just think about it, yeah?" Fred said lightly.
Think about what? Being the butt of his jokes?
"No, thank you." She smoothed over her shirt. "Enough with your games, you're making me late."
He stepped aside, allowing Hermione to pass. "But the offer still stands, you know, if you ever change your mind."
"Highly unlikely, I--"
Before she could finish, he had already turned and slipped back into the crowd of celebrating students, disappearing from sight.
What in Godric's name was that?
Fred Weasley didn't give her those looks, he gave them to other witches all the time, but never to her.
What game was he playing? Was this part of a sick bet to see if she would fawn all over him?
She was Hermione Granger, bookish 'a teacher's pet,' just as he put it and Fred Weasley did not pay attention to witches like her. She ground her teeth but pushed her anger aside.
Shaking her head firmly, Hermione smoothed her hands over her clothes once again and straightened her shoulders.
Hermione hurried through the castle corridors.
What did the headmaster want to discuss? Was it about Harry? They hadn't broken any rules. Maybe it was about her studies? Her thoughts spiraled with worry as she approached the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office. Taking a deep breath, she said, "Fizzing Whizbee," and the stone guardian moved aside, revealing the spiral staircase. Steadying her nerves, Hermione stepped onto the stairs, holding the envelope tightly.
Dumbledore's voice filled the room, clear and welcoming, as he greeted Hermione. Seated behind his large oak desk, he gestured towards the plush armchair opposite him.
"Please, have a seat."
Hermione crossed the room, her steps softened by the ornate rug beneath her feet. She sat on the edge of the chair, her back straight.
With a wave of his wand, a dish of lemon sherbets materialized on his desk. "Lemon sherbet, Miss Granger?"
Hermione eyed the candy, her brow furrowing slightly. "No, thank you, sir."
A small smile played on Dumbledore's lips. "Very well." He popped one of the sweets into his mouth, savoring it for a moment before continuing. "I must say, the first task of the Triwizard Tournament was quite spectacular, don't you think so?"
No.
"The champions showcased such remarkable skill and courage in facing those fearsome dragons."
Hermione shifted in her seat, images of the day's events flashing through her mind—the roars of the rightfully furious beasts, the jets of flame, the narrow escapes, Viktor and Angelina's seared skin. Her gaze drifted to the window. "Yes, they were...very brave."
"Indeed." Dumbledore's voice carried a note of pride. "Miss Johnson and Mr Krum displayed exceptional magical prowess, while Miss Delacour and Mr Potter demonstrated remarkable resourcefulness and tenacity." He leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "I have no doubt that the remainder of the tournament will be equally thrilling, filled with challenges that will push the limits of our champions' abilities."
Hermione's eyes snapped back to Dumbledore, her lips pressing into a thin line. She remained silent, her fingers digging into the armrests as a familiar unease coiled in her stomach.
Dumbledore studied her for a moment, his expression softening. "You seem troubled, Miss Granger. Is there something on your mind?"
Hermione swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. Should she share her worries? Would the headmaster even care?
Probably not judging by the enthusiasm in his voice.
So instead, she shook her head, forcing a tight smile. "No, sir. I'm just...looking forward to seeing how the tournament unfolds."
Dumbledore's gaze held hers for a long moment as if he could see straight through her mask. But then he nodded, the twinkle returning to his eyes. "As are we all, Miss Granger. As are we all."
"I do apologize for the late call, but it is the only time I have available," Dumbledore began, his blue eyes studying her over his half-moon spectacles. "You're probably wondering why I've called you here so late in the evening."
"Yes sir."
He leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "You know, of course, that our guests from Durmstrang come from a rich cultural tradition, filled with magic as ancient as their homelands."
Hermione nodded eagerly.
"Next Saturday," Dumbledore continued, "our friends from the north will be observing a sacred festival known as the Dziady. A time-honored tradition that celebrates the bonds between the living and the dead, and honors the spirits of their ancestors."
" A festival sir?"
"That's right." He offered the young witch a small smile. "During this festival, the Durmstrang students will partake in rituals and ceremonies that have been passed down through generations, each steeped in the rich heritage of their respective homelands."
Hermione's eyes widened, her mind already filling with questions about these rituals and the magic behind them.
"It is my belief, Miss Granger, that as a representative of Hogwarts, you would benefit greatly from participating in the Dziady festivities alongside our guests." He spread his hands in a welcoming gesture. "An opportunity to immerse yourself in their traditions, to learn and experience firsthand the diverse tapestry of our world's magical cultures that you would otherwise not be able to experience given your lineage."
Hermione's breath caught in her throat. Excitement bubbled up in the pit of her stomach. This was a chance to not only learn more about magic—but to experience it.
"I understand this is a significant undertaking," Dumbledore went on, his voice taking on a softer tone. "And one that should not be approached lightly. The Dziady is a sacred observance, and those who participate must do so with an open mind and a reverence for the traditions they are about to witness."
He fixed her with a piercing gaze. "This is a decision that must be made of your own volition, Miss Granger. I will not impose this upon you, nor will I think any less of you should you decline."
Hermione swallowed hard, her mind racing with thoughts and feelings. On one hand, the chance to learn about such an ancient and mystical tradition was a dream come true.
But on the other hand, she felt out of place. Taking part in rituals that were so sacred and different from what she knew was unsettling. What if she didn't fit in? What if she made a mistake and outed herself even more?
As if sensing her inner turmoil, Dumbledore's voice cut through the silence once more. "Take your time, Miss Granger. This is a decision that should not be rushed." He rose from his chair, signaling the end of their meeting. "When you have reached a conclusion, you need only inform me and Professor Sigurd, as he is heading the festival. The choice is yours, and yours alone. Do keep in mind that the festival is this Saturday."
Hermione drew in a slow, steadying breath as Dumbledore's words settled over her. Her initial apprehension melted away, replaced by a familiar thirst for knowledge that burned bright.
This was a unique opportunity—a chance to go beyond Hogwarts and explore the rich world of wizarding traditions from around the globe.
A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. For too long, her world had been confined to the walls of this ancient castle and the comfort of her studies. But now, a door was opening, inviting her to explore the vast world beyond.
"I would be honored, sir," she said at last, her voice firm.
"Excellent, Miss Granger. I had a feeling you would embrace this opportunity wholeheartedly." He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers once more. "Now, as for the logistics..."
Hermione listened intently as the Headmaster outlined her involvement. The Dziady festival usually lasted several days, but because they had lessons, it would be held on Saturday night. She would be expected to participate fully in the rituals and ceremonies alongside the Durmstrang students.
"You must understand, Miss Granger, that some of these traditions may challenge your perceptions and push the boundaries of what you consider... acceptable and rightful magic," he explained, hinting at his disapproval of such practices.
"The beliefs and practices of our northern brethren are steeped in ancient lore, intertwined with the very fabric of nature itself. You may bear witness to rituals that seem strange, even unsettling, to your modern, Muggle sensibilities."
Hermione's brow furrowed slightly, but she gave a firm nod of understanding. "I will keep an open mind, Professor. My goal is to observe and learn, not to judge or impose my own beliefs."
He gestured toward the door. "Very well, do let Professor Sigurd know of your intentions to join the festival. You may return to your dormitory. I'm sure your friends are eager to celebrate the day's triumphs."
Hermione rose from her seat, clutching the strap of her bag tightly. "Thank you, Professor."
As she turned to leave, Dumbledore's voice stopped her. "Oh, and Miss Granger?" She glanced back at him. "Do try to enjoy the Tournament. Events like these are meant to be savored."
Hermione forced another smile, then hurried from the office.