Dear Hermione

Dear Hermione,

Perhaps I am writing too soon, but I would dearly love to see you again this summer, and I want to write before the memories we had at Hogwarts start fading. For your parents, I live in a large house just outside of Pleven, and my own mother and father would love to have you over. I miss you already, and dearly await Sofia´s return with your reply.

Yours Sincerely,

Viktor Krum

The barn owl made a funny chirruping noise and looked at Hermione pleadingly, as if her and Viktor´s black eyes were the same.

"Wow," said Hermione simply, and she looked down at the parchment again.

She was sitting in her room, on top of her favourite blue-grey comforter, with her Hogwarts trunk at the foot of the bed, half unpacked. She was in the process of straightening out and hanging up her work roves when the unfamiliar, white-faced owl had tapped at her window. Cautiously, she let her in and opened the letter warily, remembering previous bad experiences in strange owl posts, and felt such a mix of emotions at its message that she could only sit down and say one word.

"Wow," she repeated, working through her feelings one emotion at a time. Worry - what if Bulgaria was terrible, what if Viktor and she had an argument? Confusion - he still wanted to see her, even after the whole Triwizard Tournament thing was over? Amusement - he could write her name, but he still couldn´t pronounce it. And then, dread - what would her parents think?

On one hand, when she had told her parents on the long trip from London to Devon all about Viktor and the Yule Ball, they seemed very pleased and impressed by the dark-haired young man. On the other hand, her father nearly ran the auto into a ditch when she told him about the Third Task and its unfortunate end. She was pretty sure her parents would not support a cross-continent journey.

Hermione thought about the situation carefully, and decided that what she needed was a calm, rational mind; someone just like her parents - but not quite.

"Antigone!" she said loudly, almost a call. She stood up quickly and left her room, leaving Sofia to ruffle her feathers and make herself a nice perch out of the desk lamp.

+X+

Hermione knocked on her older sister´s door. "Antigone?"

"Is that Glinda?" said a voice on the other side, like Hermione´s but a little lower and huskier. Without waiting for a reply, the door opened from the inside and the source of the voice appeared.

Hermione and Antigone were in general appearance and basic attitude, very alike. But their five years age difference and of course the magical-Muggle distinction made them two very different entities. Antigone would have Hermione´s bushy hair if she let it grow, but she had cut it boyishly short. Three holes were in each of her ears and she usually wore a lot of dark eyeliner and black clothes, but as she was visiting home from college, she wore a nude face and oversized fluffy red sweater.

"You just love calling me `Glinda´, don´t you?" asked Hermione jokingly. It was a nickname instantly granted to the younger when the elder heard about her magical abilities.

"Better that than `Wicked Witch of the West´," replied Antigone simply. She sat down in one of her yellow velvet armchairs and indicated for Hermione to sit in the other. "What can I do for you?"

Hermione handed the parchment to her and leaned back into the comfy chair. She noticed Elastica playing softly on Antigone´s purple stereo, and then remembered previous experiences in trying to show her sister magical papers. "Can you read it?" she asked cautiously. Antigone nodded and looked up at her younger sister with a calculated, amused look.

"Does Mistress Hermione have a gentleman suitor?" said Antigone in a mockingly high falsetto.

Hermione just grimaced and smiled, shaking her head. "I bet you know what the question I have is."

"Yes," replied Antigone stolidly. "Is Bulgaria still Communist?"

"Ha ha. You should know it hasn´t been for a few years now."

"Of course I know that. Your actual problem is getting Mum and Dad to agree, right?"

Hermione made a face and nodded as Antigone read the letter a second time. Finally, she spoke. "Do you want the good news or the bad news?"

"Both."

"This guy has fallen for you," admitted Antigone. "That´s the good news. The bad news is that there is absolutely no way that they´re going to let you go to Bulgaria to visit him. Remember when I wanted to just spend the weekend at that Welsh fellow´s house when I was sixteen? Mum looked about ready to drop a litter of kittens right there in the dining room."

Hermione remembered that dinner vividly. "Then she gave you `The Talk´ right there in the middle of the asparagus, right?"

"Right." Antigone rolled her eyes. "Basically, I rest my case." She handed the letter back to Hermione.

"Maybe if you came with me?" suggested Hermione, trying to sound off-hand.

"Nice try, `Mione, but I´m taking a week-long home break and then I´m going to Carnac with Claire and Denise."

Hermione started to scowl, but then her face turned into one of thought. "D´you think Mum and Dad would let him stay in your room?"

Looking quickly around her sister´s room painted in shades of purple and black, and undecorated save for two paintings of Lilith and Circe, Hermione decided it would probably be in Viktor´s best interest to stay home in Bulgaria.

"Well, now I´m stuck. I want to see him, but I can´t go to Bulgaria and he can´t come to England. Unless...." Hermione thought quickly. "You know, he´s been of age for a while. When you get old enough, you can get a permit to Apparate, and then you can instantly transport yourself wherever you want to go...." She bit her lip. "But it´s probably too far between Pleven and Devon."

"You know you´re just talking out loud to yourself, right?" interrupted Antigone. Suddenly, she had an idea. "Say, what if this Viktor fellow finds some way to get here for a day or two? Torquay´s got lots of hotels and stuff he can stay in."

"Oh! That´s it!" replied Hermione, getting out of the squishy chair. "I´ve got Ron´s Quidditch schedule, he´s bound to be playing in England sometime. Thanks, Tiggy!" She left the room happily.

"Does she ever even listen to me anymore?" asked Antigone to no one in particular.

+X+

"Hullo again, Sofia," greeted Hermione. The owl blinked slowly at her as the witch moved boxes of papers labelled with various Hogwarts class names until she found one neatly labelled "Other". She slid out the thick stack of parchment from the box, all of the letters, notes, and various scraps of paper she had received or penned in the past four years. She only had to go through three letters from Harry before finding Ron´s hand-written summer Quidditch schedule. With a Muggle pencil, feeling rather odd in her hand, she circled all of the Vratsa Vultures´ games, counting three. She started from the bottom.

Away against the Patonga Proudsticks, August 25. No good, that was in Africa. August 4, home against the Ballycastle Bats. Ballycastle was in Northern Ireland, which was far enough already, but they would be in Bulgaria anyway. Falmouth Falcons, away, July 7. Her heart gave a little jump.

The seventh - that was in four days. Viktor would be in Falmouth, where even if he didn´t have an Apparation license, he could easily take a train or bus to Torquay. The most it could possibly take was an hour and a half. He could come over, meet her parents, and then they could go to the Harbourside, visit Meadfoot beach, eat at Simius or No. 7, or maybe catch something at the Princess Theatre or Central Cinema. Torquay was a resort town, and now that Hermione had an out of town visitor - not to mention date - it felt like the whole town was open to her.

+X+

"Let me see the letter," Mrs. Granger said simply, and Hermione grudgingly divulged the parchment from her pocket. Her mother read it once and handed it back to her. At first, Hermione thought she would say something embarrassing along the lines of "Don´t you think this Viktor is being a bit headstrong?" but to Hermione´s surprise, she asked a more personal question.

"How does this Viktor make you feel, Hermione?" asked her mother gently as her father brought a plate of potatoes to the table.

A good question. Hermione thought about Viktor - his black eyes, his heavy brows, his dark face, and his thick accent. Then she thought of his World Cup Quidditch skills, and of the way he tackled the dragon and attempted the Transfiguration in the Tournament. Finally, she thought of the gentlemanly way he acted around Harry and her friends, even when the rumours were flying, and how he would sit in the library every day trying to find a way to ask her to the Yule Ball. Finally, she spoke.

"Viktor makes me feel like a wonderful person. He´s the kind of person that you can talk and talk to, and he listens - and understands, too. He appreciates my intelligence and respects my friends, and he actually makes me feel like a girl."

"Not to interrupt your lovely speech, `Mione," said Antigone kindly, sliding open the door and joining the family on the back porch, "but any male shouldn´t be the reason you feel female."

"Always the feminist, huh, Tiggy?" asked her father with a smile, sitting down at the table.

"What I mean is that, well, when I´m with Harry and Ron, we´re just...we don´t think about gender, really. And I try talking to the other girls in my dorm about boys and stuff, but sometimes they get so shallow I can´t stand it. Viktor makes me feel...." She cast about for words. "I´ve never felt the way I do with Viktor around anyone else."

"I understand," said another female voice at the table, and Hermione, Mr. Granger, and Antigone were surprised to see Mrs. Granger nodding. "Look, Tony," she said, speaking to her husband, "she´s not a little girl anymore. I was just two years older than he when we began dating, and you know I saw other guys before you."

Mr. Granger nodded. "Agreed." He thought for a minute, and then spoke. "Hermione, you can tell this Viktor to come into Torquay on Saturday morning, and you two can mill about in Harbourside and Town Centre, and then walk home for supper. How does that sound?"

Hermione broke into a huge grin, and in her excitement, she slid out of her chair and hugged her father and mother furiously before running inside.

"You can write the letter after dinner!" called Mr. Granger loudly, but she was gone. Mrs. Granger patted him on the arm lovingly, and Antigone just laughed.

+X+

Dear Viktor,

Good news and bad news - bad news first. My parents won´t let me go to Bulgaria. But, the good news is that, if this Quidditch schedule is right, you´re going to be in Falmouth on July seventh. I live pretty close, in a city called Torquay. How about on Saturday the eighth (assuming the game´s shorter than a day) you come over? I don´t know if you can Apparate yet, but it´s a pretty short ride by Muggle transportation between if not. Since Sofia´s got a lot of travelling to do, how about you reply only if you can´t make it? I hope to see you then.

Hermione Granger

P.S. Wear Muggle clothes.