'Ve need to talk.'
Viktor's heart plummeted into his stomach, taking a sharp left-turn and lodging somewhere in his lower intestine.
Karkaroff waved impatiently for him to come in. Viktor shuffled nervously towards him, flinching slightly when his Headmaster waved the door shut.
'Sit, Viktor,' he said, in what he must have thought to be a friendly, fatherly voice. A part of Viktor sighed; he already had a father, and Karkaroff was about as paternal as a praying mantis. Looked like one too, now that he thought about it.
'So,' said Karkaroff, stroking his beard. Viktor made a mental note to shave before meeting Hermione later.
'I haff not seen you in a vhile,' continued Karkaroff. 'You haff been running around Hogvarts, I hear? Vhy is that?'
'Is cold on ship,' muttered Viktor, then immediately cursed himself. This is Hogwarts, idiot, this is spring-time weather where you come from!
Karkaroff raised an eyebrow, but chose to let the comment pass. 'So, you are exploring school, then? Getting to know it better?'
In ways you can't begin to imagine, Viktor thought, trying to repress the urge to swing Karkaroff out the window of his cabin. The Giant Squid had looked rather hungry...
'Viktor,' said Karkaroff again, a little more impatiently. 'Who are you taking to ball?'
'Vot?' asked Viktor incredulously. He was expecting questions about Dumbledore, whom Karkaroff seemed unusually interested in, or the mad-man who taught their Defence class, or even the Tournament. Why the hell....
Oh, shit.
Viktor clenched his fists. Karkaroff was trying to set him up with someone, he just knew it. He did it all the time. 'Ve must preserve the blood-lines, Viktor, and you are close to royalty these days,', Karkaroff had told him.
Viktor was not particularly interested in royalty, girls following him because he played Quidditch, or blood-lines. The only thing he was currently interested in was his bed (which Karkaroff was sitting on), his owl (who looked ready to rip Karkaroff's hair off), and a certain frazzled fourth-year with a big smile and bigger brains.
'I know a nice girl who is a year below you,' said Karkaroff airily, as if it were of no great importance. 'Very pretty, slim, and she is distant relative of Romanovs. She votched you at Quidditch Cup, thought you vere spectacular.'
Viktor gave an almighty grunt in response. 'If I vanted vapid idiot, I could haff asked blonde-boy's friend,' he muttered to himself. Karkaroff affected not to notice.
'Or,' he said, 'you could ask that nice girl from Slytherin, the von with long black hair and cat.'
Viktor looked at him incredulously. 'You mean the one named Millicent? No, I think not, she looks like she has eaten rocks for breakfast since she vos three. She vould probably punch me in the face if I asked her, and I haff broken my nose enough times already.'
'Viktor,' growled Karkaroff, throwing his hands in the air, 'there are many pretty girls here. Hogvarts, Durmstrang, even Beauxbatons. Many know you from Quidditch. Slytherin, I think, has many pretty girls. Vot do you vant from von?'
Bushy hair, high intelligence, good sense of humour, and a name impossible to pronounce. Why? Viktor bit his tongue before he accidently let loose his plans for the ball. Deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, Viktor chose to say nothing, but let his features settle back into the scowl that normally resided there.
'Viktor,' wheedled Karkaroff, 'you must haff someone in mind.'
'Yes,' said Viktor tersely. 'I thought I vould ask Giant Squid. She is very nice and probably dances vell. Or maybe I vill take Snape, you seem to like him enough.'
Karkaroff turned an odd shade of green, pushed Viktor aside, and stomped out the door.
Viktor hovered around Grooming Your Grindylow: How To Tame Your Wilder Pets, looking around nervously for a short figure with big, brown locks.
'Viktor?'
He jumped half a kilometer into the air before he realised it was Hermione standing behind him, a bemused look on her face.
'Don't worry,' she said dryly, 'I'm not interested in your autograph.'
'You startled me,' he said brusquely, trying to retain some dignity.
'Only a little,' she smirked. 'Come on, let's go sit in the back.'
She led him to a small cubbyhole in the wall, just big enough for both of them to sit down in. They settled down, taking far too much time making space and smoothing out invisible wrinkles in their clothing. After a while, they stopped fidgeting, and stared at the empty space in front of them.
'So,' said Hermione after a while, breaking the awkward silence. 'What colour are your robes?'
'Red, dark,' said Viktor, lacing his fingers together.
'Oh,' she said. 'Okay.'
Fidget. Fidget. Damn. Where had the easy-going conversation gone?
'D'you like blue?' she asked suddenly. 'It's my favourite colour, and I have blue robes. Should I put my hair up? Oh, how tall are you, do I need to wear flats or heels? I'll have to get something for my hair.... is blue okay? Really? Because I can always charm it another colour. Heels, or flats? Should I wear my hair up or down? What do you like better? Curly or straight? Maybe I need to get my robes hemmed... oh, bother, I wasn't planning on going to the ball, I don't know what I have to do."
Viktor's eyes rose to new and perilous heights as Hermione prattled on. He had no knowledge of the things girls did to get ready for fancy events, and he wasn't quite sure he wanted to.
'You do not haff to do all that,' Viktor said after a while, Hermione finally stopping to breathe. 'You could go like this, I vould still think you look better than other girls at the dance.'
Hermione looked at him so bewilderingly that Viktor was sure he had said something wrong. He frantically backtracked, trying to figure out his offense, when she smiled at him and rested her hand lightly on his knee.
'Thank you, Viktor,' she said quietly, and his heart hammered. 'I just... I don't know a lot about dances, that's all.'
'Vell,' he said in relief, 'that is two of us, I think. I try to avoid such things. They are... loud and crazy.'
Hermione looked overwhelmingly relieved that she wasn't the only person unfamiliar with the ritualistic and awkward motions of dances.
'Well,' she said, all business again, 'we've got the robe issue sorted out, and I'll worry about my hair and shoes. Is there anything else?'
'Is there any vay to get out of this?' asked Viktor plaintively. 'I am very glad to be going vith you, but I am thinking that I do not like dances very much. Everyone smiles, and then hides knives behind their backs. I haff heard girls talk at them before.'
'I hate to be the one who shines the light on this, Viktor,' Hermione murmured, valiantly trying to smother her smirk, 'but most girls act like that the majority of the time, dances or no.'
Viktor looked horrified. 'But you are not like this, Hermy-own.' He immediately kicked himself for mangling her name again.
Hermione smiled. 'I'm not most girls,' she said, laughing.
'Thank votever God vatches over me for that,' muttered Viktor darkly. 'I haff nightmares that ve go to ball, and then you make mooing noises like other girls.'
Hermione stuffed her fist in her mouth, trying not to laugh too loudly. 'No, I promise I will not moo, Viktor. Nor will I moon, pretend I know anything about Quidditch, or ask you for your hand in marriage, or get an autograph.'
Viktor grinned, relieved. 'And I vill not... vell, I do not think I could ever do anything insulting towards you, so nevermind.' Hermione beamed at him, and Viktor felt like he had broken the record for fastest Snitch caught.
'Oh, time for dinner,' said Hermione suddenly. 'I have to go.' She squeezed Viktor's knee. 'I'll meet you here tomorrow, okay?'
'Okay,' said Viktor happily. 'Haff good time eating, I vill see you later.'
'I'm sure I'll enjoy my thrice-daily performance of Ron imitating a vacuum cleaner,' she said darkly, getting up and gathering her things. She ran off, and Viktor just shook his head.
What the hell was a vacuum cleaner?
Viktor brushed his hands nervously over his coat, checking his reflection for the umpteenth time. His mirror cursed at him, shouting something about the dangers of vanity. Viktor made a very rude gesture towards the mirror, who said something equally rude in reply before Viktor was elbowed out of the way by a classmate.
'You look very nice, Viktor,' came a coy voice. Viktor rolled his eyes into the back of his head.
'You are looking nice too, Stanka,' he said quickly, before making his way out of the room. Like an overgrown turkey buzzard.
He and Hermione had only gotten a few chances to talk between the time he had asked her and tonight, hurriedly discussing their plans; where they would meet, and so forth. It was all very cloak-and-dagger; Hermione commented that she felt like an operative of MI6. That had merely confused Viktor, but the general feeling of harassment between them was leaving both of them on edge.
Viktor looked around in a nonchalant manner. When he saw that Karkaroff was busy dressing down a student for wrinkled robes, and that everyone else was fighting for the mirror, he slipped out silently, shambling like mad to escape the ship. He made it undetected to the castle, awkwardly running up the stairs. He finally sat in a darkened corner near the entrance to the Great Hall.
Students began to emerge, first in a steady trickle, then in short bursts, and finally en masse, a sea of eager hormones surging like salmon to their spawning ground. All the while, Viktor sat in his corner. When Hermione did not emerge, he began to grow nervous. Had she forgotten? Changed her mind? Found a better date? Went with-
'Viktor?'
Viktor climbed halfway up the wall. He turned around to see Hermione swathed in shadow, looking very pale and nervous.
'I vish you vould stop stop sneaking up on me,' he grouched good-naturedly. Hermione broke into titters, a nervous grin blooming on her face.
'Sorry,' she whispered. 'I thought you would have heard me.'
'Over the stampede?' he asked, jerking a thumb over to the teeming mass of students. 'I vouldn't have heard a herd of dragons diving into castle valls over that.'
'I suppose so,' she said. She looked at her feet, her shoulders twitching.
'Are you okay?' he asked worriedly. 'You look like you haff swallowed an ashwinder egg.'
'Just kind of scared,' she said quietly. 'I've never really gotten dressed up for Hogwarts before.'
'Vell,' said Viktor slowly, cautiously. 'Come, let me see you. Your head is pretty as ever, I am sure the rest of you is fine, too.'
Hermione swallowed visibly, took a deep breath, and walked into the light.
Viktor blinked, taking her in from head to toe.
'What?' she asked nervously. 'Is it that bad? Is the colour wrong? Oh, it's my hair, isn't it? I should go and change it to-'
'I cannot believe you vere vorried, Hermy-own,' he breathed. 'You look very beautiful. Very much beautiful.'
Hermione blushed, her hands flickering over her blue robes. 'You think so?'
'I know so,' he said. 'I am pretty sure I haff seen every girl valk in already, and you are still much prettier than all of them. Much so.'
This seemed to stiffen Hermione's spine. 'You look handsome, Viktor,' she said softly. She walked over to him, brushing her hands over his chest. He hoped that she couldn't feel his heart beating like a pair of bludger bats.
'You really do,' she continued. 'And I'm glad I'm going to the ball with you.'
Viktor broke into an unabashed, boyish grin, then offered his arm. 'Let's go around the back vay,' he said. 'Ve can make ultimate grand entrance, and I can show off my beautiful partner.' Hermione flushed in a rather pleased fashion, and nodded her head.
'Let's do it, then,' she said, with more bravery than she felt.
'Into the Great Hall,' said Viktor, leading her forward.
'Into the lion's den,' she muttered. She held her head high, straightened her back, and together, they swept into the Great Hall.