Past Present

"Quidditch practice get rained out?" Viktor asked when he saw it was Harry in the door.

"Yeah. Ron is finishing up his homework. Silencing charms. Kept making his chicken squawk that much louder all through class, so McGonagall gave him some practice. Hermione is up there trying to get him straightened out on how to do it. They'll be down in twenty minutes. How are you?" he asked awkwardly.

"Depends. How awful do I look these days?"

"Considerably less awful than a week ago," Harry grinned.

"I will take it, but you still cannot hug me. Come for a walk with me," Viktor said abruptly.

"Walk?" Harry asked, puzzled, his eye falling on the bulky splint still on Viktor's left knee.

"More of a hop in my case, but come on. Just down the hall. I am tired of these four walls. Pomfrey is in the greenhouse." Viktor slid out of bed and coasted from bed to bed, supporting himself and keeping his left leg up off the floor, then braced against the wall instead, and made his way to the door. He had obviously done it before, the movements were well practiced. "I need to talk to you."

"How come I never like it when you say that?" Harry replied uneasily.

"Because I never say anything pleasant after that. I promise one of these days I will catch you off guard and tell you something completely, unarguably happy after saying 'I need to talk to you'. Maybe this is, a little. Harry, you know how you told me that no one will tell you anything until they haff to?" Viktor asked, concentrating on his slow progress down the hall and the floor below.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"I promise I will, if I find anything out. I do not think it is fair. You had to find out what little you know about your parents far too late. Voldemort too. I do not think it is right to blindfold you and expect you to be happy about it. Seems like everyone else here knows more about you than you do. Dumbledore wants me to help him figure something out first, then we really get down to business. Maybe I can find out something too. Harry, I ... I can ... maybe someday I can help you remember. This is my limit, turn around," Viktor added absently, crossing the hall and starting back in the opposite direction.

"Help me remember? What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Later. Not now. Do not get your hopes up that I can do it right now, I haff to learn how to control it. But let me just say this. The body remembers what the mind does not, sometimes. You had a whole year with them, Harry, a year you cannot remember. It is always there, what the body remembers. And it can be brought back. Harry, remember what I told you I was good at?" Viktor never looked up from the floor. He was going considerably slower by this time.

"Memory..." Harry whispered. "What you said that night on the porch, and that night with Karkaroff, about forcing him to relive ..."

"Supposedly, it can be controlled. I can pick and choose if I haff some idea what I am looking for. No one ever bothered to teach me, though. Hermione says she has read about it. No big surprise there. Turns out it is a late emerging talent. When you lose control of it, it usually goes for the one that is most deeply buried. People only bury their nightmares that deep, Harry. Real or imagined. Nothing more terrifying than what comes from your own mind," Viktor muttered. It was obvious he was getting tired. "Right now, I am a real horror show, Harry," he said bleakly.

"Horror show?" Harry said.

"Know how I found out I could do it? I got angry at my charms teacher when I was fifteen. He was a regular Snape, only worse. He was an equal opportunity hater. I think he hated me a little extra because Karkaroff treated me differently. Determined to teach me I was nothing special I guess. A real winner. Called Alexei, Elena and I out for cheating on an exam when we did not. We broke our backs studying for that test, and he was convinced we cheated. Was determined to make us take it again and give us half marks at best. We even offered to take veritaserum. Called Elena a liar and a slacker. Next thing I know, he is on the floor, screaming. Turns out he had once been attacked by a lethifold. Nearly died. And he remembered it. I made him remember it. Over and over. That feeling of nearly suffocating. The dark. Only a thousand times worse. Alexei went and got the nearest adult. Unfortunately that was Karkaroff. And he figured out it was me doing it. Elena was already out in the hall, sobbing, Alexei had run to get someone, I was still standing there with my mouth hanging open. Karkaroff shoved me off into the hall, it stopped, and the professor promptly resigned that afternoon. Karkaroff had me looked at. I can do it on command, but it is spotty. And generally ugly. Really ugly, Harry. I do not want to try it with you and end up giving you that night, only worse," Viktor said, shaking his head. They had made it back to the cot and he sat on the edge. He didn't specify what night, but Harry knew what he was talking about. The night he had gotten that scar.

"Can you do the pleasant ones, then?" Harry asked in a shaky voice.

"Managed it twice. With Alexei. But I drug up some bad ones too, while trying it. Luckily Alexei is not the type to haff too many bad things buried. He has pleasant dreams, does not haff too many horrors in his past. Like I said, Harry. Maybe someday. Maybe Dumbledore will know someone who can help. If that talent can be shaped better than Karkaroff would haff done. Harry, I know it is not much, but it is all I haff to offer right now At least I haff not let it get away from me in the last couple of years."

"If you can't control it, exactly, why was Karkaroff after you so hot and heavy, then, if you don't mind my asking?" Harry asked, sitting on the edge of the cot next to Viktor.

"It is rare. Rare is valuable. I bet he knew I could be trained. And what difference would it make, if all he wanted it for was to intimidate people? Threaten most people with their own worst memories, they tend to fold. Nothing worse than your own mind, Harry. Very useful for interrogation and intimidation. Show them a slice of what they wish to forget and promise to show them more. And it is not the only thing I can do. There are other things. Things I will not go into now. Hermione knows," Viktor said, as though that was all that really mattered.

"Letters?" Harry asked, curious how much more Hermione might know than he did.

"Mostly. The great thing about letters is, you can be braver. Easier to talk to a sheet of parchment than a face. And she has been more patient than I had a right to expect, waiting for me to tell her everything I needed to. Speaking of letters, would you take this to Baramir?" He handed Harry a sealed piece of parchment, with 'Nikolas and Anya Krum' written on the outside in Viktor's neat script. "Not much I could tell them, but at least they know I am in one piece when I write," Viktor said.

"It's more of a case of you not concentrating, Ron," came Hermione's voice from the hall.

"I tell you, I got a defective chicken," Ron said defensively. "Oy, Harry," Ron poked his head around the door jamb, "rain's let up. We're having a shortened practice. Coming?"

"Yeah, let me run by and send an owl first, and I'll be right there," Harry said, getting up and making way for Hermione to take his seat. "Bye, Viktor. Thanks," he added.

"Bye, Viktor!" Ron called, already out in the hall.

"So. How did it go?" Hermione asked, putting her hands on her knees.

"He knows nearly all you know by now. All that really matters to him, I guess. I did not tell him about the demonstration. I am hoping that one stays between you and me."

"You didn't have to tell me that. I admire the fact that you did. Told him all you had to tell me, did you?" Hermione asked, looking up at him.

"No," Viktor said plainly.

"What do you mean, no?" she asked in an exasperated voice. "Wasn't that the entire point of my trying to get him down here by himself for once? So you could talk to him?"

"I do not recall telling him I loved him. I am fond enough of him, but I do not think I am going to be calling him Sokrovishte any time soon," Viktor said with a grin.

"You! When does that brace come off?" Hermione said, pointing to the bulky wrapping around his knee.

"Maybe middle of next week. Sooner than expected. Not soon enough," Viktor sighed.

"So you won't be dancing for a while. Still sore? Too sore to be hugged, for example?" Hermione asked mischievously.

"I might bear up under your attentions if you take it easy," he laughed softly under his breath. She gave him a quick hug around the neck and a peck on the lips. "Any luck in the library?"

"No more than you've had in the infirmary. I can't find a thing that seems to fit what you and I remember the Guardian saying. I give up," she said, frustrated, and leaned her head into his shoulder.

"Do not do that. Then I will," he said draping an arm around her shoulders, as Madame Pomfrey came bustling back in from the greenhouse, her wicker basket full of herbs.

"You haven't been up have you?" she called as she walked by.

"Up? And leave this fascinating room? I might miss something!" Viktor answered.

"Don't come crying to me then, when you end up hurting your knee worse, hopping around like that," Madame Pomfrey scolded, shaking her head. "Still, you are a lot tougher than I gave you credit for. Fooled me with that arm. Those ribs ought to be letting up soon as well. We might get you out of here in three weeks time, total, if you would behave yourself."

"Oh, you know you will miss me. And the dogs. The dogs especially," Viktor added.

"Speaking of which, where are they?" Hermione asked. She hadn't noticed that Ivan and Natasha were not in the room.

"Hagrid did me the favor of taking them out with him and Fang. They get restless too. No one offers to take me for a walk, though," Viktor smiled.

"I would, but I don't think I could carry you. Fairly sure your feet would drag. Take a rain check?" Hermione said.

"Take a what?"

"Rain check. Sort of a voucher, so you can pick up something you already paid for later. Means 'would you agree to do it later?', in this case, when you are able," Hermione explained.

"I most certainly would. I still owe you something for your birthday, you know," he said softly.

"I'll take a nice lunch by ourselves next Hogsmeade weekend. You should be able to limp around by then," she said brightly.

"Done. That mean you do not want the present I brought too?" he laughed. She only smiled and blushed in reply.