Past Present

"There's the prefects baths. If you promise not to drown yourself while trying to swim laps or at least let someone check on you... I suppose you could go up to one of them," Madame Pomfrey said, thumping a pillow on one of the unoccupied cots back into a satisfactory shape.

"Well, I am not taking you with me," Viktor said stubbornly. But the prospect of getting out of this room, even for an hour, was so tempting, he might have agreed to a marching band going along if he were in a more accommodating mood. All he wanted was a bath. She acted like it was swimming the English Channel.

"I'll go, Madame Pomfrey. That is, if Viktor doesn't mind me being the one to go along..." Harry began uncertainly. Viktor seized on the offer before he could finish the sentence. There was a fifteen minute delay while Madame Pomfrey rounded up the ward's ancient wheelchair and lectured on the importance of not overdoing, which Harry let go in one ear and out the other. Viktor didn't seem to be even allowing it in the first ear. They had no more than reached the edge of the steps when Viktor asked him to stop.

"What? Forget something?" Harry asked.

"No. I am getting out of this thing," Viktor said, hauling himself up by the banister.

"But Madame Pomfrey..."

"Has not thought too much about how I was going to get up the steps. Unless you want to go back and sit through another lecture on how to properly get me up and down the steps without jostling anything vital that might kill me on the spot, I suggest you park that wheelchair over in the corner and let me get up them the best I can on my own. You could be listening to the Cannons game with Ron, or in the library with Hermione, but no, you went and volunteered to accompany the cripple upstairs and make sure I do not forget how not to drown in a bath. Now seriously, what is the matter with you?" Viktor asked with just a hint of irritation in his voice. He had made it to the first landing, but turned and sat on it.

"Knew I would be grateful for the same if it were me. Going stir crazy?" Harry asked, sitting next to him.

"If you mean, am I ready to climb the walls in there, yes. I know she means well, but she is driving me batty. I half wish there would be a big epidemic so she would haff someone else to fuss over and get off my back. My mother would not even be this bad. Next landing," Viktor said, pulling himself back up and taking the stairs on one leg again.

In several stop and go spurts, they finally reached the statue of Boris the Bewildered, a befuddled looking wizard with his gloves on the wrong hands, and Harry gave the password, "pine fresh". Viktor raised an eyebrow at him and a smile curled one corner of his mouth. "What?" Harry asked.

"And just how do you know the password to the prefect bath? I do not remember you being made prefect. Oh, wait, you are in cahoots with two of them," Viktor laughed.

"Actually, Ron and Hermione didn't tell me, I found it out last year. Cedric. The egg," he reminded Viktor timidly, as Viktor tested out a few of the taps.

"Oh. I am sorry, I forgot..." Water, multicolored steam, and thick white foam were gushing into the bath by now.

"Never mind. Now what? Am I going to have to man the lifeboats or something?" Harry teased.

"I think it would be fine if you just keep me company. Preferably out of the tub," Viktor said, gingerly pulling his shirt over his head. Harry winced when he saw the purple-black bruising that had settled into the small of Viktor's back and halfway up his ribcage. Viktor sat on the edge of the bath and dangled his feet into the water. "Now come on. I cannot believe that you volunteered for this just because of the thrilling prospect of hanging out with me while I take a bath. Out with it."

"Okay. Promise you won't laugh?" Harry said nervously.

"I just had to agree to let you accompany me before I could take a bath. Like I am in a position to laugh at you..."

"How did you know Hermione liked you?" Harry asked in a rush.

"You are assuming I did."

"Didn't you?"

"Well, she agreed to go to the ball with me. That was encouraging."

"But how did you know she would say yes?"

"I did not. I took a chance and asked. Elena told me the worst thing she could do was say 'no'. Harry, if you are looking for some fantastic insight into female behavior, what is the saying? You are barking up the wrong tree?" Viktor said with some surprise. He cut off the taps and sat back down on the rim of the bath. "Is there... some girl...?"

"Cho Chang. Ravenclaw. She's the seeker on their team. Oh, sorry, I'll turn around. Let me know when you're in... Anyway, I asked her to the ball last year, but she was already going with Cedric. I think she likes me well enough, but after last year..." Harry trailed off.

"You can turn around. Well, that does complicate things," Viktor said, his voice neutral.

"And she's a year older."

"Oh my word. She would practically be robbing the cradle, I mean a whole year, someone would probably call the authorities to report a kidnapping..." Viktor began in an exaggerated tone, putting his hands on his cheeks in mock horror.

"I get it, I get it. But it's different, you being older than Hermione. You're a guy," Harry said bluntly.

"Oh, brilliant observation. And that is relevant because...?" Viktor asked.

"No one thinks twice about a girl being younger than her date. And you and Hermione both act about forty anyway. Last year... last year Fleur called me a 'little boy' when I came back into the study after my name was drawn. You probably thought I was a little twerp too," Harry said bleakly.

Viktor ducked under the water and pushed his wet hair back out of his face before answering. "Fleur probably called you something a lot nastier out of earshot. Considering she came dead last, are you going to let her opinion of you before the tournament bother you? And she was seventeen. According to you, that is practically ancient, apparently. And I haff no idea what a 'twerp' is, so I doubt I had you labeled as one," Viktor finished.

"Pipsqueak. Runt. Brat. Little kid."

"I never thought I would be so grateful for something as simple as a bath. You were kind of short, but you were just fourteen, and you got picked, same as we did. Always respect the competition," Viktor said sagely, propping his arms on the side of the bath, resting his chin on a forearm, regarding Harry. "First rule. Always respect the competition. They usually deserve being there just as much as you do, and maybe more. If it is either of those, you had better be prepared. If not, then you find yourself pleasantly over-prepared. Besides, what does it matter what anyone thinks, other than Cho? And the only way you are going to find out is to ask her. Or at least talk to her. Talk to her sometime. Maybe in Hogsmeade."

"But she's always with a pack of girls. How on earth are you ever supposed to get her alone to talk to her?" Harry asked glumly.

"Grant you, I did not haff to worry about that with Hermione," Viktor conceded.

"No. You were the one surrounded by a pack of girls ..." Harry began.

"I never had to worry about that either," came a plaintive voice from the other side of the bath. A decidedly female voice. "No one ever wanted to be my friend," it wailed, and Harry looked up into the thick spectacles of Moaning Myrtle, perched on the taps.

"Myrtle! You can't just go around spying on guys in the bath!" Harry spluttered.

"And this is...?" Viktor queried a little uneasily. He hadn't been so startled that he nearly drowned himself trying to stay modest the way Harry had the previous year when Myrtle had revealed herself, Harry noted. But then, let's be honest, Harry thought to himself, Viktor isn't exactly the scrawny plucked chicken of a boy that I am, what's he care if she sees his chest?

"Moaning Myrtle. Usually haunts the girls' toilet, but apparently she likes spying on people in the bath too. She spied on me last year." Harry muttered to Viktor.

"I told you I shut my eyes when you got in. Your friend too. You could not talk about me as though I'm not here," she sobbed accusingly. Then suddenly she brightened, and fluttered her eyelashes, "And you could introduce me to your friend, but no one ever thinks of poor Myrtle, all alone in the plumbing, not a friend to talk to," she pouted. "You promised last year that you were going to come visit me, and you haven't been down once." Sudden tears filled her eyes and she rummaged for her handkerchief.

"Myrtle, Viktor Krum. Viktor Krum, Myrtle. I'm sure Hermione told you all about her, right?" Harry said sarcastically. Dear heaven, let him say he's heard of her, or she'll wail for an hour, he thought to himself sourly.

"The broken stall, right?" Viktor asked tentatively. Myrtle brightened once more and floated around to his side of the tub.

"You're that foreign boy all the girls talked about last year, then! 'Oh, Viktor has just the dreamiest eyes, doesn't he?' and 'Do you think he would give me an autograph?' and 'Did you see him in the World Cup? He was so brave, wasn't he?'. Never a thought for poor Myrtle, I can't watch Quidditch any more," she said, her lip trembling. Harry could see that Viktor was blushing furiously now. "I heard more about you than I did about him," she jerked her head at Harry. "I saw you when you were in the lake, but part of the time it was with the shark head, and part of the time, you were a lot skinnier. Skinny boy in his swim trunks. I see you're not so skinny now," she said with more glee than Harry had seen from her since she had called him thick for not being able to figure out the egg straightaway.

"I guess not," Viktor replied blandly.

"Still with Hermione then? All the girls hated her, you know, when they found out you asked her. And some of them hate her still. I hear them, talking nasty about her in there, about how she got to visit," Myrtle said, obviously pleased with herself. "I could tell you some of the things they say, who says them," she chirped.

"Glad to hear that," Viktor said in a not very convincing tone. "Now could you kindly go away so I could get out?"

"No! I'm staying right here! You can't make me go! I'll watch what I like! If you're going to keep accusing me of spying, I might as well do it!" Myrtle said, crossing her arms defiantly. Harry felt his jaw drop in surprise. Myrtle?

"Fine then," Viktor shrugged, "I'll get out anyway," he said casually, walking closer to the edge.

"You wouldn't!" Myrtle squealed.

"Try me," Viktor said flatly, raising an eyebrow.

"You wouldn't. I'm staying here," she said, far less convincing now. Wordlessly, Viktor planted his hands on the edge of the bath and started to push up slowly. Harry couldn't move. What the hell was wrong with the two of them? Had they both lost their minds completely? When Viktor had almost straightened his arms, his waist was just below the rim of the tub. Suddenly, Myrtle let out a shriek and bolted for one of the taps opposite, at top speed, and Harry could hear her squeals traveling downward inside the pipes. He presumed she was headed back to her usual toilet. He gaped at the wall until another noise caught his attention. He looked back to the bath. Viktor was propped up on his folded elbows at the edge of the bath, his forehead resting on the floor, his shoulders shaking. The foam still came up past his waist, even this far out of the bath.

"Viktor? Are you alright?" Harry asked tentatively. "Viktor?" Then he realized what the noise was. Viktor was snickering under his breath. Then it turned into full blown laughing.

"Not ... not really," Viktor finally lifted up his head and wheezed in between gales of laughter. "That was murder on my ribs, but...but...it was worth...it was worth... the look...on her... face! You ... you...you should haff seen it Harry! Although... I...I... think you ... you looked almost as shocked!" Viktor slipped back off into the bath and leaned his back against the wall of it, laughing still.

Harry finally began to laugh and lose his breath as well. "You called her bluff! Oh... that was priceless! I'll have to visit her now! Even... even the dead ones have the hots for you, Viktor!" Harry dissolved into fresh peals of laughter.

"Oh, shut up! Now turn around so I can really get out. I am glad this thing has steps... my ribs are killing me now. Make yourself useful and toss a towel and those clean clothes over here, laughing boy!"

"Think we should tell Ron about Myrtle? I mean, he takes baths in here," Harry said, starting to regain control of himself.

"Let him do his own bluffing!" Viktor said.

"If Myrtle ever comes back. You might have permanently scared her off of spying..." Harry fought not to lose control again. Viktor hopped by him, hair still damp, dressed now. He paused in the doorway.

"We can only hope," he muttered. "Maybe I should haff invited Madame Pomfrey along. Maybe I could haff bluffed her out too. Come on, down the stairs is going to be a lot trickier than up. I am going to need a banister and a shoulder. Last thing I want is to fall down the stairs and prove Madame Pomfrey right."