The Prophecy

CHAPTER SEVEN

Hermione didn't sleep well at all. Their "goodnight" had been awkward and abrupt, and she hadn't hidden her feelings very well. Viktor knew that she was upset, that she wanted to go to the meeting with him. She didn't want him to leave her, but he was her only link with the world she had left behind, and she resented him for being able to so easily go back and forth between them. It was that fact which she had inadvertently made known, and which had caused his hasty exit. She had spent the rest of the night regretting her words.

She knew that he would bring her whatever news he could about her parents, and that was comforting. Anything more substantial than a few empty reassurances would help her sleep and stop agonizing over the things Professor Dumbledore had said...and the things he hadn't. Hermione tried in vain not to overanalyze his abrupt manner. She wanted to avoid being disappointed with the outcome of the meeting, though she knew that nothing would satisfy except for the knowledge that her parents had been returned safely. It was nearly morning, while she was still tossing and turning from one side to the other, when she heard a soft rap on the door.

"Come in," she barely heard herself say. A dark head peered around the heavy wooden door. It was Viktor, wanting to see her before he left for the meeting.

"I hope that I did not vake you, Hermione," he whispered. He looked so distrustful and shy that it simultaneously made her want to giggle and take him in her arms.

"You didn't. Come in, I wasn't able to sleep much anyway..." She propped herself up on her elbows and nervously smoothed her wild hair. I'm so glad it's too dark in this room for him to notice my bed-head, she thought to herself. But Viktor didn't notice her actions. He wasn't meeting her eyes at all. He sat nervously on the edge of the bed and grabbed her hands in his, playing with her small fingers.

"Hermione, I vont you to know that as soon as I haff any information..."

She squeezed his hand gently.

"Viktor, I'm not going to lie to you. I'm upset that Dumbledore will not allow me travel with you, but I understand why. And I trust you. You wouldn't lie to me," she said, hating herself for the questioning tone, but unable to stop it from slipping out.

Viktor was finding it very hard to express his feelings. He wanted to make her understand that he would give his most precious possession to anyone who had any helpful information about her parents. But he couldn't, and it made him feel helpless. He was determined to get more answers at the meeting and give her some glimmer of hope.

"My great grandmother is already busy in the kitchen. She assured me that she vould not disturb you if you do not vish it, but do go down for breakfast, alright?" He finally looked up at her, and her heart wrenched when she saw the sad, dull look in his eyes.

The sun was slowly rising, making the room appear glowing in soft orange shades. She wished that she could say something to him that would make him smile for her, but could think of nothing to make up for the pain, frustration, and hurt that she knew she was causing him. Not knowing what else to do, she leaned in and kissed his lips softly, trying to convey with that gentle pressure how grateful she was for all that he had done for her, and how sorry she was for not appreciating it the previous evening. It succeeded where no words could have. It made him smile, indeed. Widely.

"Get some more rest if you can, Hermione, then please haff something to eat. And if you haff not already done so, you must look at books here in the room. I vill be back...as soon as I can." He hesitated to put a time frame on his return; he wasn't sure himself when he would be back.

Professor Dumbledore had not given him too many details. He knew when and where, and that was all. As much as he didn't want to leave her side, he knew that there was no more time for goodbyes. Viktor leaned in and kissed her back, though his was tinged with desperation. Not wanting to prolong the moment, he stood up quickly and left the room. Hermione heard a soft pop a few moments later and knew that Viktor has apparated. She lay back down on the mattress and closed her eyes, wanting to preserve the memory of his lips touching hers. With that thought, she fell asleep.

She awoke a few hours later feeling much more rested, and decided that she needed some breakfast before looking at the books, as Viktor had suggested. She smiled at just how well he knew her. If this had been a truly social visit, she would have stayed up the entire first night exploring the treasures in her room. She dressed quickly, washed up, pulled her hair into an unruly ponytail, and went downstairs to the kitchen.

Ada was busying around the kitchen making what looked like loafs of bread and buns. She smiled warmly at Hermione, who smiled back. She was such a wonderful woman, Hermione thought.

"Dobre dien, Hermione," she said.

"Good morning, Ada. Sorry I slept so late," Hermione replied blushingly.

"Oh dear, don't apologize! Viktor told me you didn't sleep half the night, so I knew that you would rest this morning. There is no sin in being lazy sometimes," she smirked.

Hermione felt a bit better, but those buns smelled so sweet and wonderful that she couldn't help herself, and picked one up.

"Please help yourself. Where are my manners?" She summoned a plate of cheese and butter with one swift swoosh with her wand. Hermione sat down. There was a teakettle hovering over the teacup right beside her.

"Tea? Or would you like to try some Turkish coffee instead? It's quite strong, so I'm not sure if you would like it..."

"I wouldn't mind trying your coffee. Viktor mentioned something about it back at Hogwarts, when he tried ours." Another kettle zoomed from the stove and poured the dark, rich liquid into the cup.

"Milk? Sugar?" Ada asked.

"Both, please," Hermione answered.

She tried to eat her food as quickly as possible. She didn't want to bother Ada with her presence. Even with all the kindness shown to her, Hermione still felt a bit like an intruder in this house. She didn't like to be waited on, even though Ada was no house elf and took pride in her baking and serving of others.

It was almost like Ada was reading her mind. "Now, Hermione, get that thought out of your pretty head," she scolded, still bustling around the kitchen. "It shows all over your face. You are family. My great grandson thinks quite highly of you, and what is good enough for him is good enough for me!" she finished, setting another hot loaf of bread on the table.

Hermione shot her a questioning glance. How did she know I was thinking that? Are my emotions really that obvious? Or maybe Ada knows occlumency? She knew from Viktor's stories that Ada was a great fortuneteller and a very powerful witch. It wouldn't be surprising to know that she had other magical skills.

Hermione's thoughts were soon answered.

"Hermione, I certainly don't want to hold anything back from you. I know things that many others of my kind could never dream of. I see things, hear things...you might call me crazy, but I am a witch, after all, and so are you." Ada began, sitting down opposite Hermione and patting her hand lightly.

"If you wish, I can read your future, as well. Viktor doesn't want me to do that, he thinks it will scare you away." She let out a small giggle.

Hermione thought about that. She remembered telling Viktor back at Hogwarts that she wanted to have her palm read, but now that she had the opportunity in front of her she was a bit skeptical. Or maybe she was scared, she admitted to herself silently.

A thought struck her. She could ask Ada about her parents! About whether they were all right, at least, and possibly where they could be found. Then she wouldn't have to rely on secondhand accounts - and censored ones, at that. Before she could formulate the words, another thought occurred to her, this one much darker. What if Ada didn't have good news? What if she found out that her parents were being tortured, or worse: what if they were dead? The thought was too horrible to contemplate. Maybe no news was good news, after all?

Ada was waiting patiently for a response. Hermione was flustered, unsure of her decision. Ada finally took pity on her and broke the silence.

"Hermione, I know what you would ask if you allowed me to do a reading for you. I don't want to upset you in any way, or give you false hope, so why don't you think about it and let me know. I am here if you need me, even if it is just for talk."

"I would like that. To talk, I mean," Hermione said. Ada looked delighted, and Hermione couldn't help but smile at her. "How about you tell me something about Viktor that I don't already know?" she said in a lighter tone, in an attempt to extract herself from the bleak place that she had found herself in.

Ada grinned and settled more comfortable in her chair.

"Viktor is quite an interesting young man. He appears to be quiet and sulky to most who know him; he strong, silent, and brooding, and has an unusual talent for Quidditch. But that is hardly something that you don't know, I think. You, and the rest of the world, have already seen that." Hermione nodded, a smile quirking the corners of her mouth.

"But what very few people know is that once he allows someone to get to know him - which is very rare, I might add - he is the most warm, caring, and charming young man you'll ever meet. He will only open his heart to those he feels see him for what he is and what he will become, and he does not enter into friendships lightly. He would willingly give up the fame, money, Quidditch, for love. I know that that sounds absurd, especially to one as young as yourself, but that is the truth of my great grandson." The pride in her voice was unmistakable. "Noble and kind, with a heart of gold, always doing the right thing, caring more about others than himself. But you already know that side of him as well, if I'm not mistaken?"

Ada looked up at Hermione, who was beginning to blush profusely.

Ada continued.

"I am glad Viktor has stepped up to such a challenge. I do not mean the World Cup or the Triwizard Championship, of course. This is a different challenge, one that contains equal excitement and danger, but a greater possibility of failure. Fear and doubt will always be clamoring at his back, trying to wrench him from the course that he has set for himself."

Hermione noticed the subtle shift in Ada's person as she made this pronouncement. Her voice had become deeper and more resonating; her body was quivering with energy. The air was nearly crackling with the magic flowing in and around them. The hairs on Hermione's arms stood on end, and she knew that the expression she wore was one of awe...and fear.

"His is the greatest challenge in the world: that of Love. Love is the most overwhelming magical force ever discovered. Too few know of its power, that it can and will prevail against evil. Too few know that such old magick still exists, and that is why it is ignored. Yes, people fall in love one another, and genuinely, but only once in hundreds of years does a love occur between two people that can define and shape the future for all mankind. Viktor knows this love, accepts it, and has already set upon the path that his destiny dictates."

Hermione was having trouble comprehending what Viktor's great grandmother was saying. Doubt and fear were warring in her mind. What Ada had described was a different entity altogether than what existed between herself and Viktor. While the love that she held for him sometimes did feel preordained, she feared that it was not as powerful as either of them believed it was. The weight of expectation was on her shoulders, and it was a heavy burden to bear. She was scared, and part of her wanted to inquire further, wanted know about more than her parents. She wanted to know about Harry's future, and Ron's...and her own. A steadily growing part of her wanted to know how her life with Viktor would unfold.

But there would be another time and place for this to be revealed.

Hermione spent most of the day helping Ada with her chores. After a light lunch, she retired to her room to examine those wonderful books. Surrounded by the wisdom of wizards past and present, she felt at peace. It was an indescribable feeling, which no one other than Viktor had ever understood. He shared her love of knowledge, and that was one of the many things that had attracted her to him. She lost track of time as she leafed through one tome after the other. Most were written in Bulgarian, some in Russian, and she found a few in English as well.

Most she had read already, but there were a handful that she set aside, to ask Viktor if she could borrow them. She wondered if he would have the time to help her translate some of the foreign texts. Her brow furrowed at the orange light slanting through her window. Dusk was steadily approaching, with no imminent sign of Viktor's return.

After returning to the kitchen for a bit of dinner, the little bit of doubt in her mind had steadily grown in intensity to a fully formed panic. It was dark already, and still there was no word from Viktor. She was so worried that she could hardly force herself to chew and swallow her food. All of the things that she could have said differently to him cycled through her head, accompanied by all the recriminations that he had been too kind to impart upon her. Ada, too, seemed ill at ease, and that caused Hermione the most worry of all. Though she tried not to, she obviously thought of the worst.

Was he still at the meeting? Had they gotten a lead and pursued it? Had something horrible happened? In desperation, she asked Ada if she could contact the Weasley's, hoping for some information. Regretfully, Ada had to refuse.

"Hermione, those were Dumbledore's orders. No contact, just in case someone intercepted your call or owl. I'm sorry, child," she apologized, looking quite distraught. Hermione knew about the restriction, but she had hoped. She felt guilty for asking, and for making Ada feel sad for her. Not wanting to upset her or add to the somber mood, she poured herself a cup of chamomile tea and went back to her room.

She sat on the bed, placed the tea on the table beside the bed, and started to cry. She hadn't done so since the night her parents had been abducted. It was a relief to set the emotions free, though the liberation was bittersweet. She didn't even hear the pop downstairs that signaled that someone has just apparated in the lobby of the house, and she didn't hear the raindrop now hitting the window of her room.

A storm was brewing. Ada had always said to Viktor that sudden storms after a beautiful day were not a good omen.

Thankfully, Hermione did not know all of his great grandmothers superstitions. As the thunder rolled in the distant mountains, she continued her tearful, lonely vigil.

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