A Visit To Bulgaria

Chapter 6: In Which Hermione is Discovered

After he left her that afternoon, Hermione stood still for a very long time, caressed by the intermittent breezes. She felt frozen, rooted to the spot, not able to move. All that she had said to reassure herself on the plane a few weeks ago seemed like the foolish prattling of a child. She couldn't ignore it any longer. They couldn't be just friends anymore, nor could they ever be again. Something had been broken, some sort of barrier in her mind. She found it very hard even to think coherently. The ground swayed a little below her.

"'ermione? Are you feeling badly?" It was Anastasia.

"Oh...only a little tired, is all..."

"'ermione..." Anastasia paused uncomfortably. "I 'ope zat you do not think less of me for Alexei..."

"I know only what Viktor has told me. Anastasia, you may love him, but perhaps he doesn't feel the same..."

"Whatever could you mean?"

"Viktor tells me he is somewhat of a...well, he is rather irresponsible, if you know what I mean..."

"But Alexei and I...'ave something more than 'e had with ze others..."

"Just be careful, Anastasia. Viktor cares about you more than you know. The last thing he wants is for you to get hurt."

In the shade of the castle, with the sun no longer flaming her hair, Anastasia looked very much like a petulant child. Hermione realized then that she didn't understand things like others did. For Anastasia, life was a huge whirlwind of flowers and songs and love and happiness and sunlight, and the bad things of the world seemed to pass her by. <>

"'ermione...Veektor 'as told you zat ze Ball is tomorrow, n'est-ce pas?"

"Yes, he did tell me that..."

"Eef you would like I can come to your room a leetle early and perhaps 'elp you with your dress and hair and such things..."

Hermione smiled. Anastasia might be simple, but she was also endearing and cheery, and a delight to talk to. "I would be more than happy. How does five o'clock sound?"

"Of course. I will bring all my things. But now I 'ave to go to Alexei. 'e will be wondering where I 'ave gone."

Hermione nodded and watched Anastasia go down the flower-lined path back to the gardens. The blooms seemed to have lost their luster slightly.

* * * * *

At dinner, the tension between the four simmered below the surface as they all made polite conversation about trifles. Hermione wasn't sure how much longer she could sit here and chatter insipidly when she knew that the two boys would like nothing better than to jump across the tables and punch each other senseless. She didn't really appreciate being dragged into this quarrel. As far as she was concerned, she was entirely uninvolved in whatever Anastasia might choose to do. For that matter, Viktor should be too. However, he seemed to be rather overprotective of his sister, and in this instance, Hermione couldn't fathom why. Even if Poliakoff was irresponsible, he and Viktor had been the closest of friends for many years. And Poliakoff's comment of that afternoon had unnerved her slightly. He had said that Viktor spent almost all his time with Hermione, and his tone was rather jealous. What Hermione was truly afraid of was that Poliakoff was conducting this relationship with Anastasia only to make Viktor feel bad about perhaps not spending as much time with him as he would have liked.

<>

Well, after all, she was Hermione Granger, and life had never been what she had expected ever since she had received her first Hogwarts letter. She had always been one to take charge, to assess a situation and do something about it, so she put down her fork on the edge of the porcelain plate with a slight clink and gazed around at the other three she was dining with.

"You can't keep this up forever, you know. You all have got to stop acting like children." Viktor gave her a surprised look. "Yes, you too. All of you. This really is starting to get on my nerves. I think all of us could be very happy if only we weren't so suspicious of each other."

"But Herm-own-ninny, this is my sister and I think I can have some say as to - "

"No. That's not the point at all. The point is that Anastasia is quite old enough to use her own discretion. She's her own person and not just your sister. After all, I'm Anastasia's age. Don't you think I'm mature enough to decide what is and isn't good for me?"

This silenced him. Then Poliakoff spoke up.

"Viktor, you have known me for many, many years. I would never do anything to...compromise Stasi. Do you not trust me?"

"Alexei, I trust you in all matters, you know that..."

"Then trust me, please, in this matter. I know how much you care for Stasi. And I know that if I ever did anything to make her unhappy, I would lose the closest friend I have ever had. That is not a risk I am willing to take."

Viktor eyed Poliakoff a little uncertainly. Hermione could tell that he was on the edge of giving in, and nudged Anastasia's foot a little under the table. It was time for her to speak up.

"I agree with 'ermione. I am old enough to make my own decisions. But I am still, and always will be, your sister. You should not worry about zat."

Viktor chewed thoughtfully for a minute, swallowed, and shrugged a little. "Vell, Stasi, you know that I vont for you to be happy, and if Alexei is vot vill do that...I suppose I vill have to be content vith that."

Alexei and Anastasia smiled, and Hermione let out a sigh of relief. The tension had eased slightly, but she could still sense that it was there.

* * * * *

Later that night, Hermione drew out a few sheets of parchment and a quill and wrote some long-overdue letters to Harry and Ron. She felt a little guilty for not corresponding regularly with them, but she didn't know what to say to them. The time flew by here like it was riding on the wings of a phoenix. Yet every day was also deliciously slow, beautifully paced, and sometimes she wanted to cry with the beauty of it all. Here she was safe, away from Voldemort and all her troubles and cares. Here she had friends, intrigue, love, and most of all, carefree happiness, a sort of happiness she had rarely known since receiving her first Hogwarts letter.

Dear Harry,

I have received both your and Ron's owls. I can't suppose you're enjoying yourself over at the Dursleys, but it won't last forever and next year we'll be sixth years...amazing thought, isn't it? I am having a lovely time here in Durmstrang but of course it would be even better if you and Ron were here. I miss all of you so very much. Do continue to write me, I love getting owls from you and please pardon me if I am a little slow in responding, as my days here are rather busy.

Hermione

Dear Ron,

Her quill hesitated over the paper. What could she say to Ron? There was such a tension between them that she didn't know what to write. It was the kind of very uncomfortable tension that arises when two very good friends realize that there's something that's impeding them from being close. And she knew what that something was.

I miss you greatly and the others as well. Say hello to all of your family, especially Ginny, for me. I simply cannot wait to return to Britain and to all of you. I am of course enjoying myself at Durmstrang though. I hope you are well.

Hermione

As she read the second letter over, she winced a little. It sounded very fake and patronizing, but she didn't have anything else to say, so there really wasn't any point in writing another one. She realized that with all the frustrations this afternoon over Anastasia and Alexei that she had completely forgotten that the Midsummer Ball was the day after tomorrow. Not that she really needed to fret about it, for after all, she had prepared excellently as usual. Her dress robes hung ready in the closet and her accessories in a small box in the dresser. Yet still a pervading sense of worry clouded her thoughts until she slipped into slumber.

* * * * *

The next day, dawn was slow in coming, and the sun only broke through the clouds briefly. The plain on which Durmstrang was situated was dotted here and there with patches of sunlight when Hermione rose from bed and sleepily made her way down the hall to the swirling staircases. As she stumbled down the steps to the Great Hall, her mind was filled with fragments of dreams she'd had the night before, strange incoherent dreams that all ran together into a confused mess.

She focused her mind on just putting one foot in front of the other. The mists clouding her brain had to clear soon. Yet before she had even finished that thought, she heard steps on the spiral behind her. She knew it was him. While sometimes she thought it odd how well they had gotten to know each other in so little time, in another way she could understand it completely. She and Viktor were very much alike: both intellectuals, both famous, both somewhat...sensitive, and very protective of their own.

"Herm-own-ninny? Did you sleep well?"

"Not at all, unfortunately, I had the oddest dreams all night. Dreams about Durmstrang surrounded by people on broomsticks, and you and I standing out under an overhang hiding from them. Or maybe we were fighting them." She rubbed her forehead. "I don't...it's getting harder to remember."

He shrugged. "I do not think that you haff to vorry about the safety of Durmstrang." And she also heard what he didn't say...<>

Suddenly, a huge crowd of girls, all dressed in identical pastel blue robes, swept down upon the pair. Or rather, upon Viktor.

"Could I get your autograph?"

"Did you see me at your Quidditch practice yesterday?"

"I think that you should start a line of men's wear!"

"Like my new Lipcolor Charms?"

One girl seemed to have used a Lash Lengthening Charm, though not at all well - her eyelashes were about six inches long, and looked very painful. She was frantically shouting reversal charms at her wand.

"Remember me? I'm the one that was in the fifty-sixth row, seventy-first seat, at the Quidditch Cup?"

"Oh, I love how you do those Wronski Feints!"

Viktor, who had apparently had enough, raised his wand and fairly shouted above the babble, "Arretez-vous!"

The gaggle of about twenty or so girls froze in place, their mouths still open. "What was that?" exclaimed Hermione.

"A little French spell Stasi taught me. It's come in handy." He continued down the stairs, and she hurried to catch up to him.

"It's not...permanent?"

"It vears off in about five minutes. Enough time to get away. I am sorry about the students. They are...overanxious to learn of my social life."

"I have the same problem at Hogwarts, it's nothing to worry about. I think I showed it to you once - Witch Weekly had so many columns about my supposed love life that it became a regular feature. 'Everybody's Favorite Tart' I believe it was called."

"You showed me that one in fourth year vere she insulted you...that foul woman, Rita Skeeter..."

"She was an unregistered Animagus and kept popping up wherever I went. Remember that water beetle you pulled out of my hair after the second task? That was her, you really should have squashed it or something."

"I think she just got out of Azkaban for that. In Bulgaria ve don't haff registered Animagi, so they are alvays all over the place. I am training for the very same thing."

"Really? What sort of animal would you be?"

"Actually, it vos Madam Vulchanov who suggested that I assume the form of a hawk. She says that the hawks haff Wronski Feints of their own, and that it vood be the creature I vood be most comfortable in."

"That's quite fitting to you...I'm thinking of trying it after I graduate from Hogwarts, perhaps a cat, McGonagall says they're awful useful and - "

She was broken off by a pale, breathless Anastasia shoving a sheet of parchment in her face. Hermione took the page and skimmed over it. It was an article for Witch Weekly, and her eyes widened when she read the heading, "Hermione Granger Discovered on Top-Secret Vacation to Bulgaria". She leaned against the wall for support and began to read aloud to Viktor, her voice shaking slightly.

"Hermione Granger, the longtime friend of famous young wizard Harry Potter, and infamous in her own right for the scandals of her fourth year, has been discovered by Witch Weekly reporters in Bulgaria. Now, why would she be spending time in Bulgaria, of all places? One reason...Viktor Krum, the international Quidditch champion, in his second year of postgraduate studies at Durmstrang Academy. Our very own informant Pansy Parkinson, of Hogwarts' Slytherin House, reports that Miss Granger has been seen often in the company of Mr. Krum and that she plans to accompany him to the Durmstrang Midsummer Ball. In Miss Parkinson's own words, 'I think she really quite fancies him, and of course the whole wizarding world knows he's head-over-heels for her. I don't see why, because she's awfully ugly, and only gets as pretty as she looks with all sorts of Hair Charms and Makeup Charms; in reality she's so dull no lad in his right mind would look at her twice.'

Hermione gaped at the paper. Anastasia had had the tact to leave, and to her surprise Viktor didn't look angry at all, only a little defeated. He crumpled the paper and let it fall to the floor. "I knew that they vood find you eventually."

"How...how did Pansy find out that I was going with you to the Midsummer Ball? We were in that broom closet and you put up the charm..."

"She probably saw you carrying your dress robes back from Zagorlo and concluded that you vere coming vith me."

Hermione rubbed her temples, sighed heavily, and started back up the stairs again. "I'm going back to bed, Viktor. I'm sorry, but this is just too much for this early in the morning.

He nodded and looked more resigned than ever. "I vill come see you in a few hours."

"Yes, yes, please do...don't think I'm distancing you, Viktor, I'm just so nervous about the Ball tomorrow, and I don't want Pansy ruining it for the both of us, and..."

"You vish everybody vood just leave you alone."

"How did you - "

"It is a very familiar feeling for me. Sleep well, Herm-own-ninny." And then he was gone.

* * * * *

As soon as she reached her bed, she fell into a deep, restful sleep, peppered here and there with beautiful pastoral dreams of golden fields and meadows full of flowers. It was many hours before she was woken by a gentle rapping on her door.

"Herm-own-ninny? It is four o'clock in the afternoon..."

She bolted up out of bed. She couldn't believe that she'd slept for almost seven hours. Feeling more than ridiculous, she threw on a bathrobe over her nightgown and answered the door, sure that she looked awful. "I'm sorry, Viktor. I...I really did sleep that long?"

"Indeed you did...are you feeling all right, Herm-own-ninny?"

"Much better, so much better. I had so many beautiful dreams I can hardly remember them all."

"That's good news. I saved you some food from lunch."

"Oh!" She took from his hand the small picnic basket he was holding. "Thank you so much." Her hunger had begun to knaw on her insides. She hadn't eaten since the last night. "Please, come in, eat with me, I'm sure there's enough for the both of us."

He accepted her invitation, and they passed the rest of the afternoon, into the early evening, with a leisurely early dinner, Hermione much cheered by her sleep and her dreams. The time passed like it had stolen the god Hermes' wings, effortlessly, without any notice on her part. Outside, the sunset gradually came, turning the green and gold valley into a blazing riot of colors. Even the snowcapped peaks had a rosy glow to them. As darkness spread her crimson cloak, they were still nibbling on leftovers, talking, and laughing. When the first pinpoint stars appeared, she was shocked at how quickly time had passed, but Viktor urged her not to worry and told her only to sleep well, and be ready for the morrow.

She gladly complied, and as she lay down to bed, had a wonderful feeling of relieved tension and at the same time, a sort of happy apprehension for the events of the following night.