The Same

The Same

Notes: After the lovely reception of `Just A Boy´, I have been toying with the idea of writing more Viktor Krum fic and this is one of the many ideas I´ve had surrounding him. I´m afraid it´ll lack in the dialogue from GoF because my sister has borrowed my GoF book. However, I think I can work around that, so I hope you´ll pardon me :)

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The room was very quiet.

The silence that seemed to have engulfed them was only broken by the crackling snap of the flames licking around the logs, which were burning in the fireplace. A dancing orange glow washed out from the grate.

Glancing sidelong at the two others in the room, Viktor was uncertain what stance to take with them.

Very different they were. To him and to one another.

All three were competitors.

That was the one thing that unified them, he knew.

His eyes flicked over the girl, the competitor from Beauxbatons.

She was beautiful, that was true, but her eyes...

So very cold, almost like the jagged tips of the snow-kissed mountains near his school´s own castle.

Her stance told him that any efforts of conversation would only be tolerated because he was the most famed of all of them. Her cold expression, though, suggested that she would much prefer that he did not even try to come close.

Perhaps, he thought studying her from beneath his half-closed lids, she would be a friendly person. Perhaps her Ice-Queen posture was all an elaborate mask to hide her own uncertainties and nervousness.

He was more than familiar with masking his fears.

No one would ever believe him if he told them that, before every single Quidditch match, he spent nearly twenty minutes sitting in the dressing rooms, trying to force down the nerves that still captured him.

Every time.

Even during the wild games, when he spotted the snitch or attempted to trick his opponent into believing that he had, he was often convinced that it was only a matter of time before his sweat-slicked palms caused him to lose his grip and fall.

No one believed it, when he had explained that at school.

No one believed he was anything more than one-hundred-percent confident.

Maybe that was the scenario this beautiful young woman found herself in.

Tall, stunning, she radiated confidence. Her silver-grey eyes slowly moved in his direction and scanned over him in a way that made him feel a little uncomfortable. He looked away.

It still made him uncomfortable to be watched like that.

When he was playing for the team, it was fine. He could convince himself that the spectators were watching the collective team, but on the ground, when people looked at him, stared at him, expected him to be...something more than he was...

It took a person confident in themselves to be what was expected of them.

Sullen, they had called him, petulant, sulky.

Scared senseless of large groups of people screaming his name was more accurate.

All he did was play the game that he truly loved and people...people seemed to think that they could call him by his name, grab him when he passed them in the street, pounce on him.

He didn´t like it.

However, this girl...

The way she held herself suggested that she was more than ready to deal with such attention. Attention that would no doubt be forthcoming from being one of the three Tri-Wizard competitors.

There was no way that such...collected confidence could be an act. She truly was so self-assured and she was determined that everyone would know it.

His attention drifted to the third of their number, the Hogwarts competitor.

The boy had introduced himself to both of them as soon as he had entered the quiet room. Cedric Diggory. He had insisted on shaking both their hands, although the girl had appeared rather disdainful of it.

She did, however, give Diggory a look that she had not given Viktor, the look of a girl studying potential prey.

A pang of jealously had jabbed at Viktor at that moment. He knew he wasn´t the best-looking person, but to have this girl giving him a contemptuous look, then eye the other youth as if he were the most tantalising thing she had ever seen...

It was occasions like these, he felt quite willing to trade all his skill at Quidditch just to be a little better looking.

However, Cedric made it feel impossible to be jealous of him for long.

He seemed so happy for all three of them to be the chosen ones. There was a good feel about him, like he would be a decent sport, a person who would happily shake hands with his opponent, even if he lost.

It was a feeling that Viktor had seldom got, especially in the international Quidditch League, which could be a back-stabbing place at times.

Yes, Diggory appeared to be a decent, likable individual.

He looked as nervous and excited as Viktor felt. His eyes, flecked with flickering glow from the fire, were alight with excitement and his grin looked like it was about to break free of the constraints of his face.

A boy wearing his heart upon his sleeve.

Viktor wished briefly that he had that luxury, but fame had snatched that privilege from him. He had become identified by the mask he wore and to change it now...it would take courage he knew he did not have.

To be himself, to show his fears and his anxieties, to admit that he was normal and wanted normal things...he had a feeling that it would only serve to draw more strange people to him, claiming to be in the same position, claiming to `understand´ him.

It was comforting to be able to draw the inhospitable exterior around him. It kept many of those strange people who followed him at bay, his emotionless look often dissuading people from approaching.

Yes, it made him appear cold and bitter, but it also protected him from those who would seek to use his name for their own benefit.

It had happened before.

He could not forget the hurt of finding out that his...so-called friend from childhood had suddenly come into a small fortune in exchange for some of the most humiliating tales he could recall from their joint childhoods.

`Friend´ now seemed an empty word.

So many people claimed to be his friend, but only a scant few were.

It also made matters difficult, when he did desire to befriend someone.

He wanted to say something to break the silence that they were steeped in. Diggory´s attempt to talk to the girl had fallen flat and now, now Viktor wanted to talk to the boy, to ask him about himself.

It was hard to find a subject.

Looking back into the fire, he gnawed on the inside of his lower lip.

Surely conversation wouldn´t be so difficult.

Ask him about his house, his classes, his school, if he likes Quidditch...

But, Viktor pondered, watching as a log collapsed, sending up a shower of brilliant sparks, if he wishes to talk to you, why does he not begin the conversation?

Of course, there was an easy answer to that: he saw Viktor as the famous sporting celebrity and was tongue-tied.

It was etched on his face and in the frantic way that he had shaken Viktor´s hand, a breathless and excited look on his features as he stared at Viktor, an expression that Viktor was more than familiar with.

Perhaps, in that case, Quidditch would be a subject safer left alone.

The last thing he wanted was to be the famous Viktor Krum.

He was a Tri-Wizard competitor, the same as Diggory was.

He did not want to alienate himself or the other boy by throwing that monster, fame, into the mix. Now, they were on an equal footing and Viktor did not want to separate himself from the other two.

School, then...

After all, he - Viktor - was the visitor and he was very curious about the school. How did the school work as a whole? Did the teachers keep a tight control on them? What classes were available?

Yes, school.

That was a respectable topic.

He was about to speak to Cedric Diggory, when the door of the room squealed open deafeningly behind them. He turned to see a thin young boy, probably about thirteen or fourteen, edge into the room.

Whoever he was, he looked bewildered and a little scared, his black hair standing up in all directions over a pale, thin face. Green eyes stared nervously around at them from behind round glasses.

Apparently they were not wanted back in the hall.

Viktor said nothing, not even when the Karkaroff, Bagman and some other teachers and adults filed into the room, although he was very tempted to question what was going on as the blonde French girl was.

A fourth competitor.

His brow furrowed.

Surely that had to be wrong.

Tri-wizard suggested three, so how could there be four? Had the boy cheated to put his name in the Goblet?

The boy...

Viktor had felt the colour prickling from his cheeks, a tremor of awe passing through him, when he had heard the boy´s name.

Harry Potter!

The scared, thin, anxious-looking boy, the fourth competitor, the child...

Dear Merlin...

Harry Potter.

Suddenly, Viktor felt very grateful to be blocked from view by all of the adults in the room, who seemed to be arguing loudly over the rights, wrongs, changes, plans, whys and wherefores of the competition.

He swayed on the spot, stunned.

Everyone had heard of Harry Potter.

Everyone.

How could it be possible that the person who was known as the Boy-Who-Lived and the Vanquisher of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named could look so small, so child-like, so very...normal?

He was meant to be the famed hero of the wizarding world.

He was meant to be bold and powerful and strong enough to defeat any Dark Lord.

He was not meant to be terrified by the prospect of being in a wizarding competition, even if he had cheated his way in.

Which Viktor doubted he had done anyway, staring at the fire to prevent himself from gawping at the famous Harry Potter. The fear and confusion in the boy´s face had said that much.

It was strange, he thought, slowly turning, glancing at the dark-haired teenager, who seemed to be being lectured, chastised and interrogated all at once, his expression still bewildered and uncertain.

Very strange.

The Boy-Who-Lived was...he was nothing more than a normal person with all the fears and concerns that went with it. How very like him the boy was, in an extreme that far surpassed his own situation.

Now, he was a Tri-Wizard Tournament Champion as well, if what the adults were saying was true.

Just like the three of them.

Viktor almost smiled slightly at the thought, although only internally. Seldom did his features allow for expression.

By some strange stroke of fate, they had been thrown together in the same melting pot: A beautiful, proud girl, a cheerful, good-natured boy, an International Quidditch Player and the saviour of the wizarding world.

And, just for this short time, despite having nothing in common, coming from many different backgrounds, looking nothing alike and barely being able to converse with one another in any form, they were the same.