Aboard the Durmstrang ship, everything was tense. No one spoke as they waited in two straight lines for the moment when the ship would break the surface of the lake outside of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the students would make their entrance.

Viktor had his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his fur-lined robes as stood next to his headmaster, Igor Karkaroff, directly in front of the stairs leading up to the deck. Strangely, he felt the same way that he always did before a Quidditch match: his heart was pounding in his chest, but he was intent on his goal—and that goal was victory. He had prepared himself, mentally and physically, over the past few weeks for this new challenge that had arisen. He knew that he would have to be the best of his school to be chosen for the Tournament, and he was determined to be just that.

At last, they heard the noise of the ship surfacing on the lake, and within minutes, they had all been shown across a damp lawn—along with the students of Beaxbatons—to an enormous, looming castle with hundreds of golden squares of light that were the windows of the tall towers and wide halls of Hogwarts. Compared to Durmstrang castle, Hogwarts was enormous, and when they had entered the front doors, it was revealed to be much more elaborate and spacious, with its high, cathedral-like ceilings, carved stone pillars, and the moving portraits that lined the walls.

In a few minutes, an unshaven, irritable looking man in a moth-eaten waistcoat, followed by a scruffy cat, opened the door to let the Beauxbatons students inside a large room adjacent to the Entrance Hall. Looking through the doors as the young ladies in blue passed through them, Viktor could see a brightly-lit hall lined with long tables, with students in black robes sitting on the benches. A higher table was against the far wall, where, he assumed, sat the teachers and staff of Hogwarts, and above the tables floated hundreds of lit candles.

Then it was their turn to enter. Viktor waited outside with Karkaroff while the others entered, performing their magic in front of the Hogwarts students, and then marched inside, staring resolutely ahead, up at the staff table. He heard just what he expected: excited whisperings amongst the students as he stalked past, but he pretended to be oblivious. He and the other Durmstrangs chose to sit at a table where all of the students' robes were lined with green, and had a serpent embroidered onto the front. The moment he sat down, a boy with white-blonde hair and a pale face leaned towards him, his hand outstretched.

"You must be Viktor Krum," he said, as Viktor shook his hand with a nod. Something about his voice made him sound as though he thought himself superior to everyone around him. "My name is Malfoy. Draco Malfoy—"

But anything else he was planning on saying was cut off as Albus Dumbledore began to speak words of welcome to his guests. Viktor, only half listening, took a moment to look around him. The plates and goblets seemed to be made of gold, and there were five richly colored tapestries hanging from the walls: one of a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a serpent, and the largest one, of all four animals on a single shield, like a coat of arms. But the most amazing thing about the Great Hall was the ceiling. For a moment, Viktor thought that it was open to the sky, but then realized that it was enchanted to look like exactly like the sky outside. The effect seemed to make the hall seem even larger than it already was.

Viktor returned his attention to the front of the room when he noticed four men carrying a large object beneath a purple velvet cloth in front of the staff table. Then the cloth was removed, revealing an enormous, roughly hewn wooden goblet. Dumbledore placed his hand against the wood.

"The Goblet of Fire," he said, now stepping forward. "Anyone wishing to submit themselves for the tournament needs merely to write their name upon a piece of parchment and throw it in the flame before this hour on Thursday next. Do not do so lightly; if chosen, there's no turning back. As from this moment, the Triwizard Tournament has begun."

So this was the thing that would judge who was the most worthy to enter the legendary tournament. Viktor stared at it, sizing it up as though it were another Quidditch opponent, and he didn't even notice that the plates and dishes before him were suddenly filled with food until the boy, Draco Malfoy, asked him if he was going to have any steak-and-kidney pudding. Viktor shook his head, and then began serving himself nearly everything that he could reach other than the revolting-looking pudding, although he was so lost in thought that he barely tasted any of it.

Malfoy attempted several times to engage him in conversation, talking of important people that his father knew, and how he had almost been sent to Durmstrang himself, but gave up due to the fact that Viktor mainly communicated in grunts.

After the feast was ended, and the plates were magically cleared away, Viktor and his fellow Durmstrangs stood and made their way through the sea of black-clad students to the doors. Right when they had reached the Entrance Hall, however, Karkaroff stopped abruptly, causing Viktor to nearly run into him. Peering around his headmaster's shoulder, Viktor saw three Hogwarts students, at whom, apparently, Karkaroff had been staring. The people in line had begun complaining, when a voice behind them growled, "Yes, that's Harry Potter."

Karkaroff turned to face the man who had spoken, but Viktor continued to watch the three students. A boy with glasses and jet-black hair, from under which a lightning-shaped scar was just visible, stood in the middle. It had been he, Harry Potter, at whom Karkaroff had been so startled to see, but Viktor's attention was caught by a girl standing beside him. She had wavy, light-brown hair and brown eyes, and, Viktor thought, was rather pretty. He noticed that the robes of the three students were lined with scarlet, rather than green, and had golden lions embroidered on the fronts.

Although there was bustling movement and conversation all around him, Viktor barely noticed any of it. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was about this girl that made her so attractive. No, it was more than just attraction. Her face was so bright, and the way her eyes sparkled...it was enchanting. He would have continued to watch her, but at that moment, their eyes met, and he looked quickly away. A few seconds later, Karkaroff, his hand on Viktor's shoulder, and they swept past the three students. Viktor passed so close to the girl that their sleeves brushed against each other, but he didn't dare to look at her again.

Later that night, as Viktor lay awake in the slightly uncomfortable bed in his own, private quarters on the ship, his thoughts returned to the pretty girl he had seen outside the Great Hall. He almost wished he had found the time to say something to her; she had looked so warm and full of life. He would have to find out her name….

* * *

     The next morning came, bringing with it dark thunderclouds and heavy rainfall. Viktor, who had been kept awake nearly all night by thoughts of what would lie ahead, submitting his name for the Tournament, and what he would do if he was chosen, had gotten up early, and was now pacing up and down his small, dim room. He tried to work off some of his restless energy by walking back and forth, by doing pushups, and then by just lying on his bed staring at the ceiling, but nothing seemed to help. Finally, a knock on his door told him that it was time to return to Hogwarts Castle. He grabbed a quill and a slip of parchment, and hurriedly wrote Viktor Krum- Durmstrang before walking out and joining the rest of his fellow students on the deck of the ship.

     When they reached Great Hall for breakfast, the students mulling around began staring openly at Viktor.

     "It's him!" he heard them whisper. "Look! It's Viktor Krum!"

     He also heard several badly-stifled giggles, but he ignored them all. He wolfed down his food, eager to be the first from his school to submit his name to the Goblet of Fire. Then, the door to the Great Hall opened again, and Viktor looked to see the pretty girl he had seen the night before enter, again walking next to Harry Potter and the other boy. He paused, looking over the top of his partly raised goblet, and watched the three of them sitting down at the table opposite his. Now that he had more time to look at her, he realized that she was very young; she couldn't have been older than sixteen.

     That doesn't matter, he thought, and he decided that he would have to ask one of the other students with the same red lining on their robes what her name was.

     The opportunity came much sooner than he had anticipated, when there was a tap on his shoulder, and a high-pitched "Excuse me..." from behind him.

     Viktor turned to see a very small boy with mousy-colored hair standing there, holding a piece of parchment and a quill in his quaking hands.

     "Excuse me...Mister Krum..." he said, excitement and nervousness reflected in his wide eyes. Viktor noticed, with a slight jolt in his stomach, the lion on the front of his scarlet-lined robes.  "I was w-wondering if...if you could sign this for me. My dad loves sports, and he'd be really pleased that I met you, Mister Krum..."

     Viktor nodded, and then stood, towering over the boy. He took the quill and parchment, and signed his name in slanted writing, before handing them back.

     "Vot is your name?" he asked.

     "Collin...C-collin Creevy, sir."

     "Collin, vould you tell me something?" When the boy nodded, he continued, pointing at Harry Potter. "That boy over there...vith the black hair and glasses. Who is that?"

     "Oh," said Collin, looking, if possible, even more excited. "That's Harry Potter, a friend of mine. He's in my house...Gryffindor." He pointed to the lion on his chest.

     "And who are the boy and girl sitting next to him? His friends?"

     "Oh them. They're always with him. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger."

     Viktor's brain jammed. What was her name? That was the question that he was dying to ask, because he felt sure he had misheard Collin, and didn't know how he would ever talk to her if he couldn't even pronounce her name.  He was certain it had been the most beautiful name he had ever heard, but...Collin had said it so quickly.

     "Thank you," was all he could manage.

     "Thank you, sir," said Collin, and then he darted away through the crowd.

     Viktor did not sit down to finish his food, but walked away down the row between the tables, out of the Great Hall, and began wandering the corridors, not paying any attention to where he was going.

     Hermyown? he thought to himself, trying to figure out what the boy Collin had said. Hermanee? Hermowine? Out of all the different things he could come up with, none of them sounded remotely correct, or nearly pretty enough. He felt like such an idiot, and knew that she would wholeheartedly agree with him if he tried to call her something awful like Herm-ninny.

     Throughout the morning, while Viktor wandered the halls, whiling away the time before he could submit his name for the Tournament, more than a few people came up to him to get his autograph, to tell him that they were his biggest fan, to giggle at him, or, in the case of one very odd girl, to pester him about such bizzare creatures that supposedly ran rampant in Bulgaria as the Blibbering Humdinger, or the Wrakspurt. By the time she had finally left him alone, Viktor had decided that if all of the students at Hogwarts were as ridiculous as the ones he had met, then perhaps he didn't want to talk to the girl with the unpronouncable name, after all.

         *           *            *

'Fight! Fight! Fight!'

     The sounds of some kind of commotion were erupting from inside the Great Hall, where the Goblet was kept.  Viktor stood outside the door for several seconds, feeling the pounding of his heart against his ribs, trying to focus. After taking a deep breath, he placed his hand on the door, and swung it open.

     Before him, he saw the Goblet--the first obstacle he had overcome in order to regain what he had lost by failing to win the World Cup.

     Bulgaria...the losers...

     The phrase again echoed in his mind, but he pushed it aside—it would not be the same this time.  Scowling at the Goblet, he marched forwards.  The crowd of students, who had been shouting moments before, were silent, and they parted in front of him.  Viktor thought that this was strange since this was the first time that the students hadn't swarmed him when they noticed him, but he put them out of his mind as he stalked forward.  He stepped through the smoky age-line, and at last came to the wooden cup, reached up, and dropped the parchment into the blue flames.

     And it was done.  Now all he had to do was wait. He took another deep breath to calm himself, and then he turned to walk away. As he did this, his gaze dropped to someone sitting on one of the benches. It was her.  The pretty Gryffindor girl with the impossible name.  Their eyes met, and in the moment before he turned away from her and began walking back out of the Hall, he saw her give him a slight smile, with curiosity filling her eyes.

     They had only looked into each other's eyes for a second, but he suddenly felt a fire brighter and hotter than the flame in the Goblet burning inside his chest.  Now that he had seen her more closely, he could see that she was not pretty—she was beautiful.  But she was also different, somehow, from all the others, and it took him all the way until he had gotten back to his ship that he realized why.

     While everyone else had been standing, cheering on the fight, she had been sitting on the bench, a book in her lap. Though this was a small thing, to Viktor it was all the difference in the world. She couldn't possibly be a ridiculous fool like so many of the rest of them, and now he knew again that, whether or not he knew her name, he had to speak to her.

     The first part of the tournament passed very quickly. Viktor had been exhilarated when he had been chosen as the Durmstrang champion, and even the strange circumstance of Harry Potter as the fourth Triwizard Champion could not dampen his spirits.  Three weeks later, Viktor had come away from the First Task—and his harrowing battle with the dragon—nearly unscathed, and head and shoulders in front of the rest.

     He hadn't dared hope that he would be able to remain unnoticed by the Hogwarts students during his stay at their school, especially after being selected as champion, but he didn't think it would be this bad.  He glanced behind him just as he turned a corner, and caught a glimpse of five or six girls following him in what they must have thought was an inconspicuous manner.  As he sped up, trying to escape them, he heard a loud giggle.

     This wasn't the first time he had caught groups of girls following him, and he was sure it wouldn't be the last.  Viktor rolled his eyes and decided that he would just have to ignore them.  Maybe some people, like perhaps the other Hogwarts champion, Cedric Diggory, would have liked the attention, but he would really rather have been left alone by everyone.  Or at least, almost everyone.

     The Gryffindor girl who had captured his attention several days before seemed to be the only one in the castle who didn't ever notice him. She was so different from any other girl he had ever met. She wasn't like those foolish girls who stalked him wherever he went, who were so air-headed that they hardly seemed to notice anything besides him.  But neither was she cunning like Simone, who had made him want her by just the way she looked at him. She just ignored him, and something about her indifference mesmerized him.

     After several more inquiries, Viktor had found out that she was her fourth year, which meant that she was either fourteen or fifteen.  She was also supposedly the best in her class at every subject, and spent much of the time in the library.

     And so, Viktor had taken to wandering around the library, or sitting in the corner with a stack of books, just to watch her.

     *          *          *

Hermione took a deep breath of the crisp November air as she passed a row of windows that someone had left open.  To her, there was nothing more refreshing in the world than enjoying a cool Saturday morning in late fall when the last leaves were falling off of the trees, and especially when she could enjoy it on the way to the library.

     Of course, she was awfully stressed at the moment, and that marred the pleasant experience somewhat.  She and Harry were lucky enough that they had been able to find a way to combine his flying prowess with her spell-working know-how to allow him to scrape past that dragon, but she'd barely been given a second to breathe before he'd opened that blasted shrieking egg.  She still had no idea what that was all about.  Being outsmarted by an egg—now that was frustrating.  And she didn't even want to keep trying to figure out how Harry's name had come out of the Goblet of Fire in the first place.

     Hermione let out a sigh as she walked through the library doors.  At the moment, she had way too many more immediate concerns to occupy her to keep worrying about Harry's tournament.  She had finished all of her regular homework early, of course, but she still had those three extra-credit essays that she had decided to take on just in case she missed a point or two on one of the required assignments.  Ron had told her she was "mental," as usual, but she preferred to think of herself as well-prepared.  She had responded by telling him that he'd regret not doing the essays when he missed points or even an entire assignment, as he was probably going to do sooner or later.  Ron had just shrugged.

     Well, Ron could be as careless as he liked with his studies, but it wouldn't keep her from trying to get the best grades that she possibly could.  She dumped her books onto her favorite table in the corner.  It wasn't really just her favorite table anymore; it seemed to be her table by unspoken agreement across the entire student body.  She did most likely use the library twice as much as any of the other students, so why shouldn't she get her own table?  She smiled as she ran her hand over the familiar wood, and then sat down, pulling sheets of parchment, a quill, and ink out of her bag.  Oh, how she loved these smells.  She closed her eyes for a moment just to bask in the heavenly aromas before getting to work on her research and essay-writing.

     Sometime later—she never failed to lose track of the hours while she was in her library—Hermione noticed someone standing beside a bookshelf near her table.  Of course they had a right to be there, but whoever it was had been standing in that one spot for a very, very long time, and things like that easily irritated her while she was studying.  She glanced up from her work and met eyes with none other than Viktor Krum.  Yes, he had been watching her.  She gave him a terse smile out of politeness at the same moment that he looked away from her, but when she turned back to her parchment, she found had completely lost her train of thought.  The only thing that registered in her mind as she stared at the blank part of her parchment was the memory of that evening a few days before the champion selection.  She remembered that strange, fluttering feeling she had experienced when he had looked at her then, and how she hadn't been able to hold back a small smile.  What had come over her?

     With her head still lowered, she watched as Krum retreated to the opposite side of the alcove, which wasn't very far away, carrying a small stack of books.  It was probably a coincidence, but he had oriented himself so that he faced her but she couldn't keep an eye on him without noticeably turning her head.  She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, trying not to grind her teeth in aggravation, and directed all of her focus back toward her History of Magic essay.  She was having a terrible time concentrating, however.  Every time she would finally start getting something meaningful accomplished, she would get side-tracked by that memory again.  She didn't think she'd ever seen that look in a boy's eyes before, at least not directed at her.  He looked…bemused?  Was that the right word?  But at the same time he had been smiling, even if just barely.

     Ron's right, you are mental, she thought to herself.  He's Viktor Krum, for the love of Merlin.  He's not paying attention to you, so stop coming up with these crazy fantasies.

     Hermione's eyes widened, and then she smacked her forehead when she realized that she had actually been writing her thoughts down right on her essay.  She must have been more stressed than she realized.

     "You idiot," she muttered, blushing, as she took out her wand and used it to erase his name from the paper.  When she was finished, she looked down at the still half-empty sheet, and shook her head.

     She looked up at the clock, and she frowned.  Had she really been here for over five hours?  This stupid essay was definitely taking way too long.  Sighing and rubbing a hand over her eyes, she stood to pack up her books and parchment, and then shot one more look over at Krum before swinging her heavy bag over her shoulder.  He wasn't looking at her, but she had the strange feeling that he had been only a split-second earlier.  Shaking her head again to get rid of those ridiculous thoughts, she marched back towards the entrance.

     *          *          *

Viktor lowered his book and frowned as he watched the Gryffindor girl leave the library with a frustrated look on her face.  God, but she was beautiful.  He had dreamed about her the night before.  He couldn't recall anything specific, but he did remember seeing her face, and he thought they might have been talking.  He had planned on approaching her today, as he had nearly every day for the past two weeks, and yet here was another opportunity ruined by his cowardice.  He was too shy to confront her while she was in the company of Harry Potter or her red-haired friend, and didn't want risk being overheard while his British fan club was hiding between the bookshelves.  Miraculously, they hadn't found him in the library today, but he still hadn't been able to muster up the courage to talk to her.

He left the library less than two minutes later, as irritated as she had looked.

* * *

     On a frigid day in late November, Professor Karkaroff had approached Viktor with news that both excited and terrified him. On Christmas evening, a ball would be held in honor of the Triwizard Tournament and the four champions. Not only would he have to ask a girl to come with him, but, being one of those champions, would have to dance in front of everyone else with that girl.

     He knew immediately who he wanted to ask, but it was how he would find the guts to ask her that worried him.  He had made a habit of going to the library to watch her, and every time he had seen her there he had wanted so badly to talk to her.  But sometimes she would go with Harry Potter and her red-haired friend, or sometimes his fanclub would be there, peering at him from behind a bookshelf.  And the rest of the times, he simply hadn't been able to pluck up the courage.  She was so pretty that even the thought of approaching her would get him tongue-tied.  He almost thought it would be easier to approach her if she was with a group, because then there would be other people to look at too, but…he couldn't ask her out with everyone else standing there.

     At last, though, Viktor decided that he needed to hurry and ask her before someone else did, if they hadn't already.  So he had come up with a scheme to ensure that they would be out of earshot of anyone else when he asked her out.  He had located an obscure book in the most remote section of the library, and had decided to ask her to lead him to it. Then, when he was sure they were alone, he would just suck it up and ask her.


     Viktor arrived early to the library on the day two weeks before the Yule Ball.  He had done a very minor relaxation charm on himself just to keep the jittery feeling in his nerves to a minimum.  He knew that he was going to have to ask Hermione to the ball today, because he had pointed her out to his best mate, Bjorn Lundin, at breakfast and told him that she was the one he wanted to take.  Like the good friend he was, Bjorn had immediately begun teasing him about how young she was, but then had dared Viktor to ask her before returning to the ship, and Viktor hadn't been able to find a way to  back out of it without seeming like a coward.  So after standing in Hermione's empty alcove for a moment, he made a rash decision and sat at her usual table with a few books.  If she came in at the time she usually did on this day of the week, he would have about twenty minutes to wait.

     Sure enough, she walked in right on schedule, and Viktor steeled himself for the most horrendously nerve-wracking experience of his life.

     *          *          *

     What in the name of all that's holy was he doing at her table?

     Hermione had stopped dead in her tracks as she turned the corner entering her favorite part of the library because Viktor Krum had done the unthinkable.  He actually had the gall to sit at her table, facing in the direction that she always entered from, almost as if he had been waiting for her to come.

     Don't be ridiculous, she thought.  Of course he wouldn't know that the table was practically reserved for her, but still, he had been in there enough times to know that it was the table she always, always used.  And of course he wouldn't be waiting for her.  That was just absurd.

     She thought about sitting at another table, but somehow she just knew that she wouldn't be able to focus if she did.  It was silly, but she was just so used to that table….

     So, she approached Viktor Krum.

     "Do you mind if I sit here?" she asked, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice as she gestured to the chair opposite him.

     "Not at all," he said, glancing quickly up at her and then back to his book, his dark eyes looking oddly tentative beneath thick, surly eyebrows.  She didn't think she'd ever heard him speak before.  His voice was very deep and thickly accented.

     "Thanks."  She sat down and dumped her books across every unoccupied inch of the table, selected one, and in a few minutes had become so absorbed in her reading that she nearly forgot that she wasn't alone.  She was almost half-way through the reading assignment when the sound of his voice suddenly made her jump.

     "Excuse me, Miss…Granger, isn't it?"

     She looked up at him, raising an eyebrow when he somehow knew her name, but she just nodded.  Krum shifted in his chair, seeming to avoid her eyes.

     "I…I haff seen you much here.  You must be…" he glanced in her direction, "…qvite a studious type."

     "Yes, I like studying," she said shortly, turning back to her book.  "But mostly I've just been very busy."

     There was a short pause, but Hermione found herself reading the same line of the text over and over again while she waited for him to say something else to her.  She heard him shift in his seat again, and she looked back up when he spoke.

     "I haff been noticing that you help many others vith studies.  You seem to be…a very brilliant vitch."  She saw his cheeks go red at the same time she felt her own face getting hot.  She was about to object to his over-ambitious compliment but he continued quickly, seeming to grow even more nervous when he saw her blushing.  "I am sorry if I am…distracting you," he said quietly.

     Hermione sat back in her chair, utterly baffled by his strange behavior.  It wasn't as if she had never made a boy nervous, but before it had only been because some boys just found smart people intimidating.  It had nothing to do with the often-overlooked fact that she was actually a girl.  But this seemed different, somehow.  He could talk to her, but he would hardly look at her.

     "No, you're not distracting me," she said, even if it wasn't technically true.  Ordinarily she would have found any interruption to be terribly annoying, but, although the whole situation was rather odd, she was more than a little bit curious to see where he was going with this.

     He met her eyes sheepishly.  "Vell, I vos just vondering, Hermy-own, if—"

     Hermione tried very hard to stifle a giggle when she heard his terrible mispronunciation, but did a very bad job of it.  Looking completely mortified, Viktor grimaced and said something that sounded like a curse in Bulgarian.

     "Forgiff me, please," he said in a desperate voice while his ears burned with embarrassment.  "My English is uzhasen, is terrible, I'm sorry."

     "It's alright," she said, still trying not to laugh.  "You aren't the first one, believe me.  I know it's a difficult name."

     "But is very pretty von," he said, looking very contrite as he gazed up at her with his head bowed.

     Hermione felt her face turn pink.  She was beginning to get that fluttery feeling again.  "Thank you," she said quietly, and one corner of his mouth pulled up slightly in a nervous smile as they sat looking at each other for a moment.  Then Hermione cleared her throat.  "So what did you need, Mr. Krum?"

     He frowned slightly.  "Viktor," he corrected.  "Please call me Viktor."

     "Okay…Viktor, then."

     "Yes.  Vell, I…I vanted to ask you if you could…help me find a book."

     "Oh."  Strangely, Hermione found herself to be a little disappointed.  She didn't know what she had been expecting, but this seemed like a rather mundane thing for him to get so nervous about.  "What do you need help finding?"

     "Archaic Incantations."

     She looked up at the ceiling, her lips moving to form the words, but not speaking them out loud, and then she stood up.

     "It should be right here," she said, turning to the bookcase behind her, and she began walking along it, running her finger down the spines of the old books. Viktor got up and stood behind her as she muttered to herself.  She found herself getting distracted by how close together they stood, but then there was a sudden outburst of giggles from the other side of the bookshelf.  She heard a huff from Viktor, but she decided to ignore the ridiculous groupies.

     "Or...it could be over this way... Come on," she said, and she began to walk down the aisle toward the deserted end of the library.

     Viktor followed her, and just as he passed the group of girls, Hermione heard the loudest giggle yet, and then the sound of seven pairs of feet scampering towards the exit.  She looked at Viktor over her shoulder and saw him shaking his head, his hands buried in the pockets of his robe.  She smiled slightly as she turned away.

     Eventually they reached the aisle where the book was shelved, and she located it fairly quickly, pulled it off of the shelf, and held it out to him.

     "Here you are, Mr. Kru…er, I mean Viktor," she said with a small smile. "Archaic Incantations."

     Viktor hesitated, and then reached out and took the book, but did not take his eyes from her face.

     "Actually… I vonder if I could ask you something else as vell..."

     "Oh," she said, slightly confused. "Okay..."

     "I am sorry if I am being…a bother.  It's just…vell…that I haff been meaning to speak to you for…a few days.  Ah, no for a few veeks."  His ears went even redder, if that was possible, and he looked quickly down at his book.

     And that blasted fluttering was back.  Multiplied tenfold.

     "You see," he continued, "I…I saw you on the night I vos putting my name in the Goblet, you vere sitting there by it—"

     "I remember," she interjected.

     "Da, yes, vell I…I vos thinking that…forgiff me for being forvard, but I vos thinking that...you vere a very beautiful girl."

     He looked a terribly nervous, but he steadily held her gaze, and the look in his eyes was very sincere.  Hermione, on the other hand, was feeling light-headed and somewhat dazed.  Very deer-in-the-headlights, having every intention to bolt...if she could only find a way to make her feet move.

     "You've lost me," she mumbled under her breath.

     "Sorry?" he asked, but she just shook her head, putting her hand the bookshelf to steady herself.  "Vell, anyvay, then I vos coming here and I could see that you vere also a very smart girl, like I haff said.  And so, vell vot I really vanted to ask you is that…is if you vould like to….like to accompany me to the Yule Ball?  I vould be very much honored."

     Hermione's eyes widened.  The ball?  He wanted her to go the ball with him?  It had to be the most absurd joke she had ever heard in her life.  She opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to latch onto a word, but that incessant fluttering was making it nearly impossible to think, let alone speak.  Viktor's face fell after a few seconds of this, and he held up a hand.

     "I see, perhaps you already haff another.  I should haff known to ask you sooner."  He glanced away from her, looking disappointed.

     "Oh…no," she finally managed to stammer, though her voice was infernally squeaky.  "I don't have a date yet."

     "Vell I could understand if you vanted to go with someone else…."
     
     She was shaking her head before he finished speaking.  "No, I don't.  Or…what I mean is…yes.  Yes, I-I'd love to go with you…Viktor."

     Viktor's eyes lit up, and a smile spread across his face, instantly warming his harsh, aquiline features and revealing a face that was surprisingly charming.  "Really?  You vould?"

     This was the first genuinely happy smile she had seen on his face, and the fact that it was directed at her kicked the fluttering to an even more insane speed, causing her to lose the ability to speak again, so she just nodded.  His smile turned into a huge grin, and he caught up her hand and kissed it, making her blush all over again.
     
     "Thank you," he said enthusiastically, still holding onto her hand.  "Thank you very much, you make me very happy.  Shall I vill meet you near to the castle enter before the ball begins?" he said.

     It took a moment for her to decipher his butchered grammar, and when she tried to answer in the affirmative, it came out sounding more like a giggle.  Viktor swallowed hard, still grinning, and then he dropped her hand and clicked his heels together, making a deep bow.

     "Very good," he said.  "I vill be eagerly avaiting."  He was about to leave, but then he grabbed her hand and kissed it again.  "Until then, Her-my-ninny."  He spun on his heel and left the library with an obvious spring in his step.

     Hermione stood there, awestruck and dumbfounded, with a giddy smile on her face, but as the seconds passed, her euphoria started to fade away.

     And it left her terrified.

     A ball?  A ball with dancing in a ridiculously fancy dress?  And with a boy?  What on earth had she been thinking?  And…going to the ball with one of the champions meant that she would be put directly in the spotlight.  In the spotlight with the likes of Fleur Delacour and Cedric Diggory.

     How could you be such an idiot? she thought, although screaming it out loud was what she had wanted to do.  Still in a bit of a daze, she walked back to her books and slowly packed them up, and then left the library, her thoughts feeling like a terribly jumbled mess.

     *          *          *

Karkaroff was waiting for Viktor when he arrived back on the ship.  Viktor knew immediately that the look on his face meant, "Come to my study," and meant it without room for excuses.

     "Vhere haff you been, Viktor?" Karkaroff demanded the moment he closed the door behind them.  The headmaster's thin, bearded face was like hoar-frost.

     "I vos…finding somevon to take to the ball," he said, almost making it sound like a question.

     "Did you ask that girl that Lundin told me you vould?"

     Viktor blinked.  "Bjorn told you?"

     "Not qvite villingly," Karkaroff said with a half-sneer on his face.  "Now vos this the girl you asked?  The Muggle-born who is alvays vith Harry Potter?"

     Again, Viktor blinked in surprise.  Not that it mattered very much to him, but she seemed so brilliant that it hadn't even crossed his mind that Hermione might be Muggle-born.  But rather than convey any of these thoughts, Viktor simply said, "Yes."

      A dark look crossed his headmaster's face.  "I varned you about this before the ball, Viktor," Karkaroff growled.  "Slytherin House is the only von of the four that remains pure.  The others are filled vith all sorts of…other types of vizards and vitches, such as this vide-eyed little fawn."  Viktor opened his mouth to speak but Karkaroff cut him off with a raised voice.  "But also, she is friends vith Potter, you know this, and he is currently the closest behind you in the tournament.  That little Delilah vill be trying to vheedle strategies out of you so she can pass on to Potter."

     "Ve vill not speak of the tournament, Her-my-nee and I."

     Karkaroff straightened to his full height.  He was the only person who could actually tower over Viktor.  "Take care that you do not.  And, since you are so determined to stay vith her, a vord of advice: be careful that you don't…vound her sensibilities.  The little girl is bound to haff many."  Viktor felt his ears go red at the suggestive tone in Karkaroff's voice, but he held his headmaster's nearly-smiling gaze.  Then, after just a moment longer, he unexpectedly reached behind him and pushed open the door, and Viktor stalked out of the room.

     *          *          *

Minutes later, Hermione stepped through the portrait hole of Gryffindor tower, her heavy book-bag slung over her shoulder.  She still hadn't quite believed any of it, that she was going to the Yule Ball with someone...a boy...and not just any boy, but Viktor Krum.  She was almost panicking.  Why on earth had she accepted him?  She shook her head to clear her thoughts, and then looked around the Common Room for someone she could talk to.  Not Harry or Ron: they would never stop making fun of her if she told them. Then she saw a red-haired girl sitting by the fire with three other students, and, dropping her bag on the floor where she stood, hurried over to her.

     "Ginny," she said, tapping her on the shoulder. "Could I talk to you?"
     
     "Yeah, sure," Ginny said, looking at her.

     "Er...in private?" Hermione added, because all of Ginny's friends were staring up at her.

     "Oh...yeah. C'mon, my dormitory's empty."

     They walked up the girl's staircase, into the second door on the right hand side, and both sat on Ginny's bunk.

     "So what's up?" Ginny asked, and when all Hermione did was take several deep breaths, she said, "What's the matter? You look like...like-"

     "Like I just got asked to the Yule Ball by Viktor Krum?" Hermione finished for her.

     "Yeah," Ginny said with a laugh, but then she froze, her mouth open. "Did you?" she asked, sounding shocked.

     Hermione looked at her and nodded.

     "What did you say?" she asked in a hushed voice.

     "I...I think I said yes."

     Ginny stared at her for several seconds. "You don't sound very thrilled..."

     "Thrilled?" Hermione said incredulously. "Why should I be thrilled? I..." She stood up and began pacing up and down in front of the bunk. "God, what was I thinking?"

     "Well at least you didn't turn him down. Then I'd just be laughing at you."

     "I should have!" Hermione said a little hotly. "I can't go to the ball with him!"

     "Do you have a dress?"

     "Don't be silly, of course I do."

     "Then why can't you go?"

     "I...oh I don't know...I can't dance, I...I'm just not the type," she said in desperation, sitting back down on the bed, resting her forehead on her hands. "I mean, look at that Delacour girl, and Diggory...Cho and Davies aren't bad looking either...I'm just not—"

     "Hermione, would you let me help you get ready for the ball?" Ginny asked suddenly.

     "Would you?" Hermione asked, clutching at the offer like a lifeline.

     Ginny grinned.

     "'Course I will," she said. "Just be here early, and I'll make you the prettiest girl at the ball."

     Hermione raised her eyebrows, but then laughed, shaking her head.  "I doubt that, but...but thanks anyways, Ginny."


That night, Hermione went to sleep feeling a bit better about the whole situation, and was actually a little excited that she would be going to the Ball with Viktor Krum.

* * *

"Remember that you and the other champions vill be leading the opening valtz in front of the other schools, Viktor.  Take care not to embarrass me."

     Viktor contemplated Karkaroff's words throughout Christmas day as he was preparing for the ball, and along his walk up to the castle.  He wasn't very nervous about embarrassing his school or his headmaster—he had spoken with Hermione several times since asking her to the ball and was absolutely convinced that she was the most beautiful and intelligent girl he had ever met.  No, what had him on edge tonight was his fear that he would do something stupid and embarrass her in front of the schools.  He had been furiously going through the opening waltz over and over in his private quarters on the ship, and so he was sure he had it down by now, but there were so many other idiotic things he was prone to doing…like pronouncing her beautiful name more horribly than if he had been trying to butcher it.  He had practiced saying it while he was still in his room on the ship while he made last-minute adjustments to his crimson, militaristic uniform and buckled on the fur-lined cape, but he never could seem to get it quite right.

     Viktor finally made it to the entrance of the castle with his fellow Durmstrang's, many of whom immediately left the group to join their dates.  He had wanted to beat Hermione to the entrance hall, which he had done, but rather than giving him more time to calm his nerves as he had hoped it would, it only increased his anticipation.  All of the girls around him were wearing beautiful dresses and had elegantly-styled hair, and the mere thought of seeing Hermione dressed similarly was enough to make his heart start pounding.

     He kept a surly expression on his face so that he didn't seem as nervous as he really was, and in a minute or so, the Hogwarts champion, Cedric Diggory, approached him with a pretty Asian girl holding onto his arm.  He and Diggory shook hands, and then Diggory introduced him to the girl, Cho Chang. Viktor nodded in a slight bow to her, and then Diggory said:

     "So, Krum, did you," he did a little sarcastic cough, "manage to find anyone among those girls who've been following you around to come with you?"

     Viktor smiled slightly, and was about to explain, but then he glanced up at the wide stairway.

     And he did a double take.

     He knew her the moment their eyes met.  She was a stranger, but familiar.  Impossible, but real.  She was a dream of an angel gliding down the staircase, dressed all in delicate light blue and lavender that clung to her curves and tiny waist, with her light brown hair pulled back in an elegant knot and the loose strands flowing over her shoulder in soft curls.  Her beautiful, honey-colored eyes sought him out in the crowd, and her glossy lips curved in a delicate smile that was just for him.

     Viktor muttered his apology to Diggory, and quickly approached her as she reached the bottom stair.  Despite the boisterous crowd around them, she might have been the only other human being in the room but him for all he knew.  He couldn't take his eyes from her angelic face.  He wanted to say something to her, but, being too awestruck to speak, merely snapped his heels together and bowed.   She glanced down for a moment, one corner of her mouth pulling up in a timidly sweet smile that warmed every place in his heart.  He offered her his arm, and she placed her small hand around it, letting out a nervous but excited little giggle that seemed to express her feelings more perfectly than anyone ever could have with words.

     Viktor had never had a prouder moment in his life than when he, out of all the young men in the room, was the one to have the privilege of leading Hermione into the ballroom before the cheering crowd.  But it was another kind of pride from the way he felt when winning a Quidditch match.  He couldn't quite place his finger on the difference, but he was certain of one thing: he was more elated at that moment than he had ever been before.

     When they reached the dance floor, Viktor, still feeling a little bewildered by how beautiful Hermione looked, turned to her with a bashful smile, and took her delicate hand, placing his other around on her back. She too looked a little shy as she put hers on his shoulder.  The music started a moment later, and Viktor, thanking his lucky stars that he had decided to practice so much, eagerly took the lead.  She made his heart pound with the way she never took her smiling eyes away from his, even when he took her by the waist and lifted her off the ground, spinning around while holding her up in the air.  She blushed a little when her feet reached the floor again.  Viktor continued as they twirled effortlessly around the room, completely lost in her eyes as though all the world was gone.  

     Viktor had barely noticed, but by this time, the dance floor was filled with couples dancing in unison.  Then, all of the sudden, a much more energetic and raucous strain of music blasted out the dreamy waltz, and with a single roar, the graceful dancers had become a jumping, pulsing crowd, like the audience at a rock concert or partiers at a night club, and Viktor eagerly joined in.

     For a few moments, as he moved to the music, punching the air with his fist, Viktor didn't notice that Hermione was not dancing or jumping at all. When he turned to her again, he saw that she was just glancing around her, looking nervous.

     "Come on, Herm-own-ninny!" he said, not even making an attempt to pronounce her name correctly.  He grabbed her hand and spun her around quickly, first one way, and then back.  She laughed, briefly covering her face with her hands in an embarrassed sort of way, and then seemed to loosen up a bit.  Soon she and Viktor were dancing and laughing and having the time of their lives.

     *          *          *

Hermione couldn't possibly imagine a more perfect evening.

     She had never met anyone quite like Viktor, who made her feel so comfortable and confident while being so relaxed, or who could make her feel like she was beautiful just by the look in his dark eyes and by the way he held her hand while they danced.  Of course, he was the only guy she'd ever met who actually treated her like a young lady instead of a walking encyclopedia.  It was an incredible feeling, like every time he took her hand to twirl her around he swept her off her feet.

     But, even though they were having so much fun, both of them were soon tired out, and so at the end of the song, Viktor led Hermione by the hand through the other dancers, out to the tables that had been set up for the feast.

     "I vill go get drinks, shall I?" he asked, and then he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.

     She stood there for a moment, watching him walk away, and then, letting out another, giddy and very un-Hermione-ish giggle, spun around in a circle. After taking a deep breath, she looked around her, and to her surprise, saw Harry, Ron, and  Padma  Patil sitting a table nearby, watching her. She grinned, and then went and sat next to Harry.

     "Hot, isn't it?" she asked, as he smiled back at her in an unnervingly knowing way.  "Viktor's gone to get drinks. Would you care to join us?"

     Harry looked about ready to accept, but Ron said,

     "No we would not care to join you and Viktor."

     Hermione raised an eyebrow as Ron crossed his arms and turned away, looking sulky. She glanced at Harry, who shrugged, looking a little confused himself.

     "What's got your wand in a knot?"

     "He's a Durmstrang," said Ron with disgust, as though that fact instantly made his point obvious.  "You're...You're fraternizing with the enemy, you are."

     "The enemy?" said Hermione hotly. "Who was it wanting his autograph? And...besides, the whole point of the Tournament is...international, magical cooperation. To make friends."

     "Ron, I haven't got a problem with Krum-" started Harry, who had noticed that more than a few people had started watching them, but Ron cut him off.

     "I think Vicky's got a bit more than friendship on his mind," he spat.

     "Don't call him Vicky!" Hermione practically shouted, but when she had just gotten up to storm across the dance floor, he called out,

     "They get scary when they get older!"

     Hermione turned around, staring at him agape like a fish out of water, her face burning with anger and embarrassment.  She wanted to scream at Ron.  How dare he say something like that?  But there were too many people everywhere, staring at the pair of them, too many people listening and adding to her humiliation, and the words flitted around in her mind, just out of reach.  Clamping her mouth shut against a sob, she spun on her heel and practically fled across the room and out the doors.


     *          *          *

Viktor had made his way to the table at the back of the hall, and grabbed two goblets of foaming butterbeer, but when he reached the spot where he had left her, Viktor frowned, looking around for her.

     "Vare is Herm-own-ninny?" he asked, half to himself.

     "No idea." Hermione's red-haired friend looked up at him. "Lost her, have you?"

     His expression soured with annoyance. "Vell, if you see her, tell her I haff drinks."  

     Viktor moved through the crowd of dancers, trying to spot Hermione amongst them.  He frowned and continued out of the Great Hall into one of the adjacent courtyards, where he finally found her sitting on a the stone bench set back away from the one of the paths winding through the landscape. She had been facing away from him, and she jumped slightly when she felt him sit next to her, but she only glanced at him for a moment before turning quickly away again.  Viktor was shocked to see that her eyes were full of tears.

     "Herm-own-ninny…vot is the matter?" he asked with concern, holding out one goblet.  She looked down at it but didn't take it, and the destitute expression on her quivering lips was enough to make his heart melt.  "You…you vont me to leafe?"

     She sniffled, shaking her head, and then carefully wiped a tear from her face without smearing her makeup.  Then she sighed and took the glass of foaming butterbeer, cradling it in her hands.  "I'm sorry, Viktor.  It's stupid…."

     "No, no," he said quickly.  "It's all right."  He watched another tear slide despondently down her cheek, and then brushed it away with a gentle hand.  "May I ask vot happened?  It isn't something I haff done?"

     "No of course not," she said, taking a sip from her drink and sniffing again.  "It's just…well, Ron's being a stupid git, that's all."

      "I am sorry," he said simply.  

     "Oh it's nothing more than I should have expected.  He can be so…."  She trailed off with a sigh.  Then suddenly she kicked off her silver heels.  "These—bloody—shoes!" she exclaimed.  "Oh, I don't know how anyone can tolerate walking around on their toes for so long."

     Viktor thought she must really be upset since this was the first time he'd ever heard her curse. "Vell, ve haff a saying in Bulgaria, vsyako losho neshto idva, za da bŭde za dobro. Each bad things comes out to be for good." He gave her a sympathetic smile, and she held his gaze for a moment and then laughed a little—at herself, Viktor thought.

     They sat there in silence for several minutes, looking around at the twisting hedges where the little lights were real fairies floating through the air.  Hermione shivered.  The air was crisp and cold, as though it were about to snow, and her dress was light, and left her arms bare.  Feeling more than a little self-conscious, Viktor put his arm around her shoulders, running his hand up and down her arm. She responded to the gesture by drawing closer to him. She took another sip of her drink, set the goblet on the bench next to her, and then wrapped her arms around herself.

     "Your hands are cold," Viktor said quietly, and he took her hands in his, pressing them gently, and then he looked back up at her.  She gave him another one of those adorable little half-smiles, looking down at their entwined hands.

     "Herm-own-ninny?"

     She looked away and smiled, shaking her head slightly.

     "I told you," she said. "It's 'Her-my-oh-nee.'"

     "Vell, I can't say it like that, so you vill haff to be forgiffing me."

     She sighed, laughing a little, but didn't say anything.

     "Herm-own-ninny?" he started again.

     "Yes, Viktor?" she asked, still refraining from laughter.

     "I...I don't think...I'm not sure that I haff told you, but I think that...you look—you are—very beautiful."

     Hermione smiled, blushing and still looking down at his hands.  She loved the way he said it.  It was like she was always beautiful, whether or not she was wearing a fancy dress.

     "Thank you," she said, almost in a whisper.

     After they had finished their drinks, she felt the arm Viktor had around her waist help her up with him as he stood. He steered her up a few steps before two figures emerged from the pillar-flanked entrance to the hedges directly in front of them. Hermione was annoyed to see that it was Malfoy, with Pansy Parkinson clinging to his arm. When she saw Hermione, the grin on her face turned into a frown that spoke hate more clearly than if she had said it.

     "Krum," said Malfoy, "I didn't ex..." He froze when he saw Hermione, his jaw dropping and his eyes widening.  He goggled at her for a few seconds, while Hermione felt the heat rise in her face, but tried to stay as outwardly unconcerned as possible. "Granger! What...?"

     "Vot is..."

     But Malfoy cut across him.

     "What do you think you're doing, Krum? You asked that to the ball?" he asked, looking as disgusted as his tone was disbelieving.

     "Vot is the matter vith..."

     "You must not know what she is."

     Hermione's heart sank. Would Viktor care that her parents were Muggles? Was Durmstrang a place where Muggle-borns were treated with contempt?

     "Vot do you mean, Malfoy?" Viktor said, his eyes narrowing.

     Malfoy let out a short, mirthless laugh.

     "You didn't even ask her?" His gaze fell on Hermione, and he sneered. "She's a dirty Mudblood."

     In an instant, Viktor had grabbed the collar of Malfoy's robes and slammed him back against the pillar. Pansy shrieked, and Hermione cried "Viktor! No!"

     "How dare you!" he snarled, rage pulsing through him.

     "Let me go, you blood traitor!" Malfoy said, looking outraged, and trying to pull off the Bulgarian seeker's hands.

     Viktor whipped out his wand, and held it an inch from Malfoy's throat.

     "If you ever say that to her again, you vill haff me to answer to," he said.  But Hermione ran forwards and grabbed his wand arm.

     "Viktor, don't! You mustn't..."

     He looked down at her, and when he saw her worried face, he reluctantly released the Slytherin.  Hermione tried to pull him away, and after giving Malfoy one last furious glare, he followed.

     "I thought you had proper wizard feeling at Durmstrang!" Malfoy shouted after him.

     "Only the vons vith no human feeling!" Viktor called back, but Hermione pulled him faster towards the entrance hall.

     It wasn't until they reached the deserted Entrance Hall, and the marble staircase leading up into the rest of the castle, that Hermione stopped.

     "Viktor?"

     He turned to her, a scowl still on his face.

     "Viktor, you shouldn't have done that..."

     "He should not haff said that," he said heatedly.

     Hermione sighed, looking down and putting a hand on her arm uncomfortably.

     "He says it all the time," she said quietly, her cheeks turning faintly pink.  Viktor took her hand in his, running his thumb over her small fingers.

     "Vell he von't now if he is knowing vot is good for him," he said, though in a much softer tone.

     She paused, and then said:  "Viktor, I...you can't... I really don't care what he says."

     "I think you do," he said quietly.

     "No, I don't! He's horrible and…and selfish—"

     "Vell I care, then."

     She looked up into his face. His eyes were soft, and his expression was tender. He smiled slightly, and then raised her hands and kissed first one, and then the other.

     "Vill you be alright?" he asked, touching her face, and looking intently into her eyes.

     She felt the color rising in her cheeks again, but held his gaze.

     "Yes, Viktor, don't be silly, of course..."

     "Vell then, perhaps...von more dance, if you like?"

     "Oh...yes, I would," she said, keeping her voice natural, though he could easily tell how pleased she was from the way her eyes sparkled. Smiling, Viktor tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and then he led her into the Great Hall.

     The hall was much emptier than before, with only a few couples on the dance floor. They walked to the center of the room and, smiling, Viktor held her hand and spun her once before taking her in his arms.  His smile broadened when he saw that her cheeks were pink again.  She slid her hands onto his shoulders, biting her lip as though trying to keep from smiling too much, but when he lowered his head closer to her level, raising an eyebrow at her, she let out another giggle.  Viktor laughed too, pulling her closer while still moving to the music. Something warm bubbled up inside him where her head touched his chest.  

     "By the way," she murmured contentedly, "you look very dashing tonight."

     Viktor moved his hand to the place between her neck and shoulder, squeezing very slightly.  

     "Thank you, Herm-own-ninny."

     Her bare back felt softer than velvet beneath his palm as he slid his hand back down to her waist, and the feel of her skin made him shiver slightly.  He didn't even try to suppress his grin as he gazed about him, wondering how on earth he had managed to be the luckiest guy in the room, and how on earth he got to dance with the most beautiful, smartest, and most wonderful girl at the ball.

     "Viktor," Hermione said after a few minutes, still resting against him.

     "Hmm?"

     "The music's stopped."

     He realized she was right, although he had still been dancing slowly.  He stopped, trying not to seem embarrassed, and Hermione took a step back, looking a little sheepish herself.

     "I think you've had a bit too much butterbeer," she said, shaking a finger at him but unable to keep the laughter out of her voice.

     "Oh no, you had very much more than I did," he retorted.  "Venever I saw you, you vere holding a new glass."

     Her mouth dropped open and she swatted his arm.  "That's not true!" she said with a laugh.  "I only had...maybe...four?"

     Viktor shook his head in mock disappointment.  "Oh Hermy-own...I mean Herm-own-ninny....  You haff got to vatch this problem off yours."  He took her hand and put it around his arm to lead her away from the floor.

     Hermione let the whole thing—both his butterbeer comment and his horrible mispronunciation of her name—slide, and instead of saying anything, just leaned her head against his shoulder as they walked.  He stood up a little straighter, not able to keep a spring out of his step.  Just as they were exiting the front doors, Viktor saw a red-headed girl in a pink dress give Hermione a suggestive smile, and he heard the tiniest giggle from Hermione as they passed her.

     Viktor led her to the wide marble stairway, and he thought she seemed rather reluctant when she let go of his arm.

     "Thank you so much for…for a perfect evening, Viktor," she said sincerely, fidgeting with her hands.

     "Not at all, it vos both an honor and a pleasure to be vith you tonight."  The words sounded a little formal to him, but they made her smile nonetheless.  "Perhaps, if you like, Herm-own-ninny, ve could spend more time together again this veek?"

     She gave him one of her endearingly shy, lop-sided smiles.  "Yes, I would like that."

     She smiled when he took her hand, but then he made a bold decision, and instead of kissing her hand again, he leaned forward to press his lips to her cheek.  "Vell then, I shall see you soon.  Leka nosht, bonbonche," he breathed beside her ear, and then took a step back and bowed deeply, turned on his heel, and headed to the entrance.

     *          *          *

Hermione watched Viktor dreamily as he walked out through the doors with his headmaster and the rest of the Durmstrang students.  She had no idea what a bonbonche was, but he had said it very tenderly, and that was all that mattered.  She lifted a hand to touch the still-burning place on her cheek where he'd kissed her, smiling dazedly at the now empty doorway.  After a few more seconds, she spun around much too quickly on one foot and nearly fell over, but even making such a complete fool of herself in front of the few people remaining in the Entrance Hall couldn't wipe that ridiculous grin from her face, and with a sigh, she turned and walked up the marble stairs.

* * *

     He dreamt of Hermione in a thousand different ways that night, and every time he awoke he wondered if she was thinking about him too.

     When the morning came, Viktor was wracking his brains for an excuse to spend time with her.  But every minute that he was spending away from her was a minute wasted, in his mind, so he ended up going up the castle with no reason to be there, and just hoped that the subject wouldn't come up.

     He was getting very impatient by the time he reached the Great Hall where the Hogwarts students, and many from the other schools as well, were eating lunch.  Viktor looked around for a moment, and when he spotted her, his heart skipped a beat.  She had her wavy hair up in a sloppy bun, but he thought that she looked just as gorgeous as she was, sitting there in her school sweater and skirt, as she had on the night of the ball.  Unable to keep the nervous smile off his face, he took a deep breath and entered the room.

     *          *          *

Hermione was just taking a sip from her pumpkin juice when an unexpected hand was suddenly laid on her shoulder, making her jump and nearly choke on her drink.

     "Forgiff me!" Viktor's voice came from just behind her as she tried to hold back her sudden fit of coughing. "I'm sorry!"  

     After another drink to steady herself, Hermione turned to him, her eyes watering.  He bowed with an apologetic look on his blushing face.

     "Are you alright?" he asked.

     She nodded, coughing again, and Viktor, looking quite embarrassed, turned and walked away without saying why he had come.

     She turned back to her drink, but then after a moment she quickly drained her goblet and, before either Ron or Harry could say anything, she invented an excuse to leave the table and darted after Viktor.   She spotted his Durmstrang uniform disappearing at the end of the hallway and quickly followed.  Before she turned the corner, she stopped in her tracks. She took a deep breath, not wanting to seem too eager to see him, and casually walked around the corner.

     Viktor was facing a window, his face still pink, and scratching the back of his head with one hand. He jumped when he saw her.

     "Oh...It's you..." he said awkwardly.

     "Yes..." she said, and she couldn't keep a smile from her lips.  "Who did you expect?"

     He blushed more deeply, looking at his feet.  "I didn't mean to...to..."

     "To make me choke?" she said with a little laugh. "It's fine, Viktor. Now why did you want me?"

     At this last sentence, he hunched his shoulders and shoved his hands deep into his pockets.  "I...I just..." he stammered, before trailing off into incoherent muttering.

     Though she found his behavior quite amusing, she didn't want to prolong his discomfort, so she said, "Nevermind, I…I wanted to see you too."

     After a glance out one of the sleet-pounded windows, he looked up at her with a smile.  "I haff been thinking of you," he said.

     Hermione nodded, glancing away and then back to him.  Neither of them said anything for a moment, but then she smiled, and they both laughed awkwardly.  Viktor took her hand and they set off down the hall together, now able to talk comfortably.

     "How would you like to come to Hogsmeade with me?" Hermione asked without really thinking about it beforehand.

     "Vot is that?"

     "It's the village where the train comes in. The only all-magical settlement in Britain. It's got loads of amazing shops and things...There's a trip today at one o'clock, so you can come with me if you want to."

     "Da, I vould like to come," he said. It was the perfect excuse to spend the day with her.

     She looked at her watch.   "Actually, we should head to the Entrance Hall. They're probably lining up now."

     They walked together back the way they had came, holding hands the whole way, and, sure enough, when they reached the front doors, there was a long cue of students standing in front of them.

     "I'm going to run upstairs and change into something warmer, alright? I'll be right back."

     He nodded, but only released her hand when she had began to climb the marble stairs. When she looked back at him over her shoulder, his breath caught.

     It only took her a few minutes for her to return, wearing a long, knee-length overcoat, a cream-colored sweater, mittens, a hat, and a scarf, though by this time most of the students had left the Entrance Hall.

     The moment they walked out of the front doors, they were blasted by an icy cold wind and sleet that pierced all of their exposed skin like needles. Viktor wrapped his arm around hers, gripping her hand tightly. They huddled together as they walked down the muddy, slushy street. By the time they had reached Hogsmeade, the sleet had stopped, but they were both quite soaked, and the wind was howling.

     Hermione shouted something that he couldn't hear over the wind, but she pointed to the nearest shop, so the walked quickly towards it and took refuge inside it. It turned out to be a post office rather than a shop. Other than where the a small desk stood, from ceiling to floor there was nothing but owls on all sides. Hermione removed the scarf from her mouth, and pulled out her wand. She touched the point of it to his chest, muttered an incantation, and he immediately felt his clothes dry.

     "Thank you, moite tsvetya," he said quietly, while she did the same think to herself.

     She looked up at the unfamiliar words, stowing her wand.  "What does that mean?"

     Viktor felt his face grow hot.  "It is nothing," he mumbled, suddenly becoming very interested in an owl barely bigger than a snitch.  Hermione followed him to stand by his side, but she was staring at him rather than the owl.  He thought his ears would catch fire if they burned much hotter.

     "I can just look it up if you don't tell me," she said.

     "I do not think you could spell vot I said."  He glanced over at her, and he couldn't tell if the way her lips were pressed together meant that she was upset or that she was trying not to laugh.  It was supposed to be a joke, but even he knew it was quite a terrible one.  He stood up straight, burying his hands in his pockets and deciding that it would be better just to tell her.  "Flower. Tsvete means flower."  He looked at her, and now there was a little, amused smile on her lips.  Even without her silky dress and  elegantly styled hair, she stunned him by how unassumingly beautiful she was.  But she stunned him into speech, rather than silence.  "Tsvete," he murmured, touching the faint dimple at the corner of her mouth with his thumb.  "Isn't just any flower.  It...is beauty.  Is--"  Her beautifully brown eyes were so penetrating, and he turned quickly away from her, barely mumbling the last word.  "Pure."  He could feel her eyes on him even without looking at her.  He cursed under his breath.  "Look at you," he muttered. "How is it that you can make me say such stupid things?"

     "I don't think it's stupid," she said simply.  She took his arm, leaning her head against his shoulder.  How could he manage be so awkward and so terribly sweet at the same time?  "If you meant it, anyway."

     He huffed, obviously still embarrassed.  But he said, "Of course I do."

     Hermione let her eyes close for a moment.  "Thanks.  It means a lot to me, Viktor.  That you would think that."

     "Vell I am sure that I am not the only von thinking it.  Except I am who says it so stupid."

     "Dad's the only other person who's ever told me I'm beautiful," she said with a shrug.  "And that's different.  He's, well, Dad."

     "Then he must be the only male in Britain vith a pair of eyes in his head."

     He felt her shake her head with a quiet laugh, and then, unexpectedly, she stood up on her toes and kissed his chin, which was the highest she could reach.  The next second she was biting her lip, as if she were surprised at her own bravery.

     "Come on," she said quickly.  "Let's go to the joke shop or somewhere.  It smells in here."

     She took his hand and pulled him after her, and he followed, feeling a little dazed.

     They visited many of the shops together, and walked out of Honeyduke's Sweet Shop about an hour later, with a bag of candy each and a large, blue cotton-candy.  Viktor had insisted on buying it for her, so Hermione had insisted on sharing it.  The wind had slowed down significantly, though it was now foggy.

     "We should go to the Shrieking Shack while the weather's better," she told him.  He nodded in agreement, so she took his arm and they made their way down the muddy street, down the hill and out of the village.

     The Shrieking Shack loomed up through mist as they stepped through the cluster of trees, tall, dark, and foreboding. When they reached the high, barbed-wire fence, Hermione spoke in a hushed voice.

     "This is supposed to be the most haunted building in all of Britain. Most of the villagers stay away from it." She decided to skim over the fact that she knew its secret.

     Viktor shoved his hands deep into his pockets, contemplating the tower-like, wooden building for a moment.

     "Looks comfortable," he said.

     Hermione laughed, still holding onto his arm.  "Yes, it is one of my greatest aspirations to live there someday," she said in a sarcastically lofty voice.  Just then, the wind whistled through the trees, causing the unstable building to creak and groan.  The combination of the sounds had quite a hair-raising effect, and Hermione huddled a little closer to him.

     Viktor leaned over, putting his mouth by her ear.  "And I am sure the ghosts vould very much enjoy your company," he said quietly while her hair, blown about by the wind, tickled his face, and he caught the faintest hint of the scent of apples and cinnamon before he straightened.  He felt her shiver, although he thought it was from the cold rather than the thought of ghosts.  "Shall ve go inside somevhere?" he asked her.

     She nodded.  "How about the Three Broomsticks?  We could warm up there."

     "Alright, but…."  He closed his eyes tightly, concentrating.

     "What is it?"

     He raised one finger.  "Her...ma...ya...ni.  How vos that?"  He opened one eye, happy to see that she was smiling.

     "Very good, Viktor," she said, laughing.

     He smiled back, turning to face her and putting his hands on her arms.  "Her...Her-my-nee, I...I also very much enjoy your company.  And...vell, it vould mean...very much to me if perhaps ve could...be continuing to spend time together."

     She had glanced down at her feet with a shy smile while he spoke, but when she looked back up at him, there was a warm sparkle in her light brown eyes.  "Yes, I would like that," she said quietly.

     Viktor's smile broadened as he exhaled in relief, and after a moment he slid his hand beneath her wild hair, holding his palm against her rosy cheek, causing her to blush more deeply.  He glanced down at her pretty mouth as it perked up in a delicate smile, and he felt a sudden twinge of both desire and caution in his chest.  God, she was beautiful, but so young.  He wanted desperately to feel those perfect lips against his own, but...no, it was too soon for that.  He must be very careful with her.

     She looked down again, innocently unsuspecting of his thoughts, tilting her head against his hand, and then she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his chest.  That dazed feeling came back as he put his arms around her small body, one hand on the side of her head, holding her against him.  Despite the winter weather, Viktor couldn't remember ever feeling warmer in his life.  Yes, it was definitely a good dazed feeling.

     If it were up to Viktor, they probably would have stayed there like that for the entire day, but after a few more seconds, Hermione pulled back.

     "Shall we go?" she asked, smiling a little sheepishly.

     They walked back up the hill together with fingers intertwined, and they stopped at the Three Broomsticks for drinks and a warm place by the fire.  Viktor teased her even more about her butterbeer "addiction," but when she pointed out that he was the one drinking firewhisky, he wasn't able to come up with a decent comeback.  After that, she couldn't watch him drink without laughing.  They left the pub in high spirits, and held each other's hands the entire walk back to Hogwarts.

     Viktor stopped at the front steps of the castle, and Hermione climbed the first step before turning back to face him.

     "Thanks for coming with me, Viktor," she said, smiling.

     He took her hand and pressed his lips to her palm, eliciting an adorably shy giggle from her, and then she wrapped her arms around his neck for a moment, kissing his cheek when she pulled back.

     "It vos my own pleasure," he replied.  "I enjoyed myself very much."

     "I'll, er, see you soon?"

     "Very soon, I hope, but for now I am needing to go back to my ship.  There is another task to be von in a few weeks," he said with a wink.

     They parted after a few more words, and when Viktor was halfway across the lawn, he looked back over his shoulder.  She stood there still, on the first step, with a smile on her face.

* * *