Rating:
PG-13
House:
Astronomy Tower
Characters:
Hermione Granger Viktor Krum
Genres:
General Romance
Era:
Multiple Eras
Stats:
Published: 06/09/2003
Updated: 11/20/2003
Words: 224,686
Chapters: 100
Hits: 71,003

Past Present

Miss Yetigoosecreature

Story Summary:
Hermione, Harry, and Ron visit Viktor Krum in Bulgaria and discover there's a lot more to Viktor's past than they could have imagined.

Chapter 11

Chapter Summary:
Oy, the grit! And some ribbing. Short chapter. Very short.
Posted:
06/15/2003
Hits:
738
Author's Note:
Uploading...uploading... lots of uploading. Thought I would knock of formatting and chaptering several at once.

"You sure you're okay?' Hermione asked for the sixth time. All she had gotten out of him the first five times was an unconvincing "Fine."

"Except for the never ending grit in my teeth, I am fine. The medivizards said so," Viktor replied impatiently, grinding his teeth with a look of distaste.

Hermione gasped in mock horror, "Viktor Krum actually consulting a medical professional! Did something vital fall off after you left the field?" Viktor laughed in spite of himself. "And the moody Slavic man even laughs! Are you sure you didn't hurt your head?"

"I am not so moody vhen ve vin. Besides, the rest of the team threatened to kill me themselves if I did not let them look at me."

Ron poked Viktor in the shoulder, "France! Imagine that! You're going to be playing France, not Ireland. Ole Aidan must still be a bit scrambled, he wasn't in the game. Team Bulgaria gonna come tuck you in tonight, make sure you get a good night's sleep, Viktor?"

"Do not give them any ideas!" Viktor snapped back irritably. He hadn't particularly liked his teammates ganging up on him and insisting he let the medical team take a look at him. The last thing they wanted was for him to discover an injury in the final.

"I wouldn't mind having Ivanova tuck me in though," Ron went on dreamily. Hermione rolled her eyes, but Viktor gave Ron a look that would have withered all of Professor Sprout's greenhouses. "Uh oh, that's the 'positively murderous' look. Duly noted. No more wiseacre comments about your teammates. Protective of each other, aren't you?"

Viktor softened as he answered, "Yes. They're all you've got vhen you travel, particularly if you are not old enough for Apparating, the floo network is spotty, and cultivating contacts everywhere you might play to turn every spare bit of rubbish into portkeys is impractical. Ivanova is pretty enough. But she is bossy. Very. Bossy. She could tuck you in permanently. And she is at least ten years older than I am." He said the last as though that settled things, turned more contemplative, and shook a lingering bit of sand out of a fold in his robe.

"Viktor?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Why did you hesitate just before you grabbed the snitch?"

Viktor stopped walking. He turned on his heel and looked at Harry. "I thought I saw somevone I recognized. In the stands. But it could not haff been. Not there. Just my eyes playing tricks," Viktor said thoughtfully. Harry doubted very much that Viktor's eyes ever played tricks on him, but he bit his tongue. "Early game tomorrow. I need some rest," Viktor said wearily, as they trudged toward the inn. Already a pale moon was showing in the early evening sky.

"Party tomorrow if ve vin," Viktor called back idly. "Pack your dress robes." He chuckled, low and barely audible. "And your hair potion." Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Viktor cut him off with a dry, "And your freckle remover. Ivanova doesn't like freckle faces. She likes dark, moody Slavic men. At least, her husband is vone." Harry and Hermione snickered, hands over their mouths.