Cannonball

Still a little bit of your taste in my mouth.
Still a little bit of you laced with my doubt.
Still a little hard to say, what's going on.

He supposed that he could say that he had always loved her. Always. It had been one of those things that you just knew. Like children knew they were supposed to love animals, or boys knew they were supposed to love brooms - from the second he had laid eyes on her he had known that he would love her. It just seemed so natural that he didn't even think about it. Yet despite this unwavering faith in his feelings, deep down a part of him had always known that the love he had for her would never be reciprocated. But he always hoped against hope that he was wrong - that one day he would wake up and his prayers would be answered. That she would love him even half as much as he loved her.

But it would never happen - ever. She was in love with someone and it wasn't with him. It would never be with him and that was a bitter pill to swallow. After investing years in the hope, no matter how vain, that she would realise that they were suited, it had never happened. Hermione Granger was off with someone else, and there was nothing that Viktor Krum could do about it apart from watch.

He sighed as he leant back against the wall of the ball room, as the music blared all around him, and watched her brush her long, brown hair out of her eyes as she clutched Ron Weasley's arm. He bit back the wave of jealousy that threatened to make him call out in protest as he watched her. Watched her smile, her laugh, her hair frame her soft, silky skin. He didn't care what Ron Weasley was - he just knew that he would never see her the way that he did. Ron would never love her the way that he did, the way he had. And try as he might, he would never know just how much Viktor wanted to hate him for that. She deserved to be seen as the beauty she was, she deserved to be loved as though the person would die without her. She deserved so much more than Ron Weasley could ever give her - because Viktor knew that there was no way that Ron would give up everything for her, not like he would. Ron had so much already - much more than it was fair for any one person to have - a large, loving family, handfuls of friends and her. How could he give up everything when he couldn't count all the blessings that had already been bestowed upon him? Only someone with nothing could give up everything - and without her, Viktor had nothing. Nothing else mattered as much as she did, and that was hard. Unbearable in fact.

He took a deep breath as he turned away from her and walked towards the stairs leading to the roof - he had to get some air. He was suffocating in there. Every time he had to look at them he felt his chest constrict as though they had a hand across his windpipe - like they were trying to kill him. And that's what this was doing, it felt like it was killing him so he needed to clear his head. Too many memories and dreams were invading his thoughts and they could only cause trouble. And he didn't want to cause her trouble...

Still a little bit of your ghost, your witness.
Still a little bit of your face, I haven't kissed.
You step a little closer to me,
So close I can't see what's going on.

He walked out and immediately felt the cold November wind brush across his cheek as the rain battered down on his head. Somehow the weather suited his mood - it was dark, and depressing and haunted - just like he was. He looked up at the sky wistfully and closed his eyes as the wind ruffled his hair and he could imagine that he was back in Bulgaria as a child, flying his broom with a smile on his face. It had been a long time since he had an excuse to have a smile on his face. Until her...

He had known all along that she had a life that he would never be a part of and that, despite her best intentions, he was sometimes little more than a tool in her pursuit of the boy she had feelings for. He had always believed that boy was Harry Potter which, in a lot of ways, he didn't really mind. If he had to choose anyone else for her then it would have been Harry. Harry was a lot like Viktor and a good person who would have looked after her like she deserved. Viktor could have lost to Harry and still have been content that she was with the right type of person, but it wasn't Harry he had lost to. It was Ron - the boy she had been so upset with on numerous occasions. The boy she spent the Yule Ball talking about, the boy she claimed was shallow and stupid and unfeeling. The boy Viktor should have realised was more than just a friend. But he didn't, he chose to ignore the evidence and, as the years progressed and her visits became more regular, he had naively believed that she was growing to love him, Viktor. That she had realised what she meant to him. That she knew they were meant to be together, the way Viktor had always known it. He had never once thought that all the visits she made to him were just a way for her to get away from Ron after an argument. Just a way to make Ron Weasley jealous and no matter how many times she denied it, it was now so obvious to Viktor that that's what she had done. She had used him, perhaps without thinking, to get back at Ron. He could see that now...he could see it so clearly. He knew that he must have seemed so convenient to her. Someone she could talk to, someone who would listen to her problems and sympathise. Someone who would look after her. A friend. Just a friend.

Yet...sometimes he knew she had felt something more for him than friendship. That she had felt their connection. That she had known that she could do better that Ron Weasley. That she realised that she would be happier with Viktor. And that's why she had kissed him that day...

He bit his lip as he opened his eyes and let the rain fall down his face as the memory of the sweet taste of her lips washed over him. He could feel it now - the way his heart had pounded, the way he was scared to close his eyes in case he would wake up, the way he held her hand as she clung to him as though her life depended on it. The way she kissed him hungrily as her hands found a way to his robes and began unfastening them. And then...the way he pulled away from her. The look on her face as she realised what she had done. The abject horror in her eyes as she began to sob about how much she loved Ron...

Stones taught me to fly,
Love taught me to lie.
Life taught me to die,
So it's not hard to fall,
When you float like a cannonball.

He ran a hand through his wet hair as he walked over to the edge of the building and sat down - letting his feet hang over the ledge. How many times had he relived that moment when something internally had stopped him from doing what he had always dreamed of? How often had he imagined the different ways it could have ended? With her saying she wanted him, with her saying she loved him. With her not saying it was a mistake...

A mistake. He'd lost count of how many times she had said that to him afterwards as though he had been the one who had made the first move. Like it had been her that had stopped things before they went too far, like he had been the one who had wanted to continue. He knew that she must have realised what she had done and was trying to pretend it hadn't happened, that she was blameless. That it was all his fault. But it couldn't end that easily for him because he knew it had happened and that's what made it so hard. It was hard knowing what it could have been like, to have all your wishes answered and then to see them being treated as though they were abhorrent. As though he was abhorrent. Love wasn't supposed to feel like that. And he supposed her love with Ron, built on the foundation of lies didn't feel like that. Because she loved Ron back - the way she said she didn't love him.

It was funny how so many different types of love existed in the world and for most of his life they had all eluded him. He supposed he should have been pleased with his lot. Maybe his heart should have been soaring because she did love him in her own way - but it wasn't soaring. It was sinking as though it was falling from the heavens because he had invested everything in the hope that it could have been different. But it wasn't different - in her own words, it was a mistake.

Still a little bit of your song, in my ear.
Still a little bit of your words, I long to hear.
You step a little closer each day,
So close that I can't say what's going on.

He groaned and closed his eyes in an effort to block out the images playing in his mind. His problem was always internalising his feelings - perhaps that had been why she had chosen someone so...rash and emotive. Ron appeared passionate while he appeared cold, serious and stoical. But appearances could be deceiving and he thought she had known that. He thought she had known him. But maybe...maybe she didn't. Maybe she never really knew how he felt and she took his retreat from her kiss as a sign of rejection instead of a sign of love. He'd known that she would have regretted it - that she would have felt bad. He'd known that she was seeing someone else as she kissed him and he couldn't let her do that to herself. Maybe that had been the second she had decided that she wanted passion and someone who would grasp the moment as opposed to someone who overanalysed their dreams to death.

He'd always done that though. Always. Right from when he had been a child and dreamt of being an Auror like his father. Then, after the nightmare ending to that dream he found that dreams never had happy endings. You always woke up and found reality was waiting on you. He had been forced to face so many harsh realities in his life that very few things phased him anymore. The reality that love really doesn't make everything good. That you can never be fast enough to escape the past and the one that changed his life - the reality that heroes don't live forever, regardless of how immortal they appear in the eyes of a small boy. That had been a hard lesson for an eleven year old to face as he watched them burn the bodies in front of him but, as he sat there in the snow afterwards with the piles of black ash still smouldering, he didn't allow himself to cry. Crying was a weakness after all and he knew that Aurors didn't cry, because his Dad had never cried, even at the end. He closed his eyes and bowed his head as he thought about that day - how he had never believed that life would be worth living again. But fate saved him when he got to Durmstrang and almost as soon as he entered his school he had a broom shoved into his hand. He felt himself smile - he was never happier than when he was on a broom. The feel of the wind pounding against you, the way you floated like a feather. The speed, the concentration, the quiet - it let you forget. It let you heal and breathe. It was one of the few things that made him feel alive. And now...it was the only thing he had left. No family, no true friends, no lover - nothing that defined a man as a man. He read in a book once that you could judge the worth of a man by the quality of friends they had and as he could count his real friends on two fingers it really didn't bode well for him. He had false glory and false friends who considered him a hero because of his sport but only Harry and Hermione knew him. Or so he thought - apparently Hermione hadn't really known him. And that hurt.

"I thought I'd find you out here."

He allowed himself to smile slightly at the sound of her voice. "I had to get some air - it was a bit busy...in there."

"We missed you in there - you missed the toast."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know it would be so soon." He turned around to look at Hermione and forced himself to smile. "Congratulations, Mrs Weasley."

She beamed as he spoke as though she had never heard herself called that before. He felt his insides constrict as he noticed, even in the dark, the glow she emitted. She was radiant in her happiness and she had never looked more beautiful.

"Thank you, Viktor. I just, I wanted to thank you so much for this, today. You more than anyone made this day happen. So thank you."

He turned away from her and let his smile fall from his face as he whispered, "I did nothing."

"You did everything. If it hadn't been for you I would never have realised how I felt and you have no idea how much you being here, after everything that's happened, means to me. Thank you so much for that. For making this day the happiest I've ever had."

He felt his insides flood with bitterness and was repulsed at himself as he spoke. "Are you thanking me for stopping you kissing me, or thanking me for not telling him that you did? Or maybe you're thanking me for not asking you why, of all the other people it could have been, why me?" He turned to her and shook his head. "You don't need to thank me, Hermione. I'm happy for you and Ron but I don't want that kind of 'thanks'. It's not that I'm not glad that you're happy - that's all I ever wanted for you but, please, please don't thank me for helping you realise what you felt about him. Because I never wanted to give you that kind of help. I would have given you anything else gladly but I would never have willingly gave that, because it may have helped you - but it did the exact opposite to me."

She opened her mouth in surprise at his words and he was surprised to find that he didn't feel guilty for saying it to her. She lowered her gaze to look at the ground. "I'm sorry, Viktor - I never thought..."

He shook his head and softened his voice. "You don't have to apologise. I'm not angry with you or anything - I'm happy for you. But...I just had to let you know. This is a new beginning for you," he said as he swung himself around from the edge and walked over beside her and tilted her head up. "This is a new beginning and I thought it important to leave the past here."

"I would like that - to leave it here."

He nodded. Of course she would be glad to leave the past here. Get rid of her guilty little secret and absolve her conscience which, he was relieved to find, that he didn't really mind. Maybe it would be a good thing for both of them.

"You have come a long way from the girl in that library six years ago, Hermione. I can still see you sitting there, your eyes rolling as the people talked as they walked past. You are almost unrecognisable now, in a good way. You seem more comfortable in your own skin - and now everyone else sees what I saw back then."

She smiled as she nodded her head. "And you haven't changed at all. You're still the same - even after everything," she whispered. "After everything that we've seen and done. You haven't changed at all. You've always been the same..."

"Well, my accent has got better I hope..."

"And you learned to say my name," she smiled. "Although it always was rather comforting to hear your natural accent.

It always reminded me that there was more to the world than Hogwarts, than war and death and everything else..."

He nodded and reached up and brushed her cheek with his hand as his fingers rested against her cheekbone for a few seconds longer than they should have. She looked up and met his eyes with hers and in that second he knew she was wondering what it would have been like. What it would have been like with him. She was wondering if she had made the right decision. If maybe she had been wrong when she had said it was a mistake. He could almost feel the air charge with electricity as she looked at him and as she leant in closer to him, as if to kiss him, he could almost see the invisibly bond that attached them together. But almost as quickly it ended as she dropped her gaze and shook her head in a silent declaration. She didn't say the words this time but the sentiment was the same, if not louder. The sentiment was that it would be a mistake and that she didn't love him like that. She loved Ron, her husband. As she had every right to.

He took the sign and didn't dispute it and leant slowly in and kissed her cheek before taking a step back from her. "You had best be getting back to your husband, Mrs Weasley. He will wonder where you are and if you've run off to Bulgaria again."

She nodded her head and gave Viktor a warm smile as she took a step away. "I would hope he would wonder but I think it's more likely that he is propped up at the bar getting plied with beer by his brothers and Harry. Are you coming down?"

He reached up and wiped the rain from his face. "I will be in soon, thank you."

She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. "I'll be looking for you. See you soon."

With that she turned and walked away, leaving him on the roof by himself.

Stones taught me to fly,
Love taught me to lie.
Life taught me to die,
So it's not hard to fall,
When you float like a cannon...

He walked back over to the ledge and sat down. Had he really expected to feel better? Had he thought it would be easier? No...no he hadn't. But he had hoped. He'd wished. He'd dreamed.

But what did that make him really? What kind of person had those dreams? He would gladly have taken her away from her husband on her wedding day if she had said the word - what did that make him? Was that love? Was it really love if it hurt like this? If it hurt just to breathe? He looked out at the night sky and reached down and picked up a stone in his hand and threw it hard through the night sky with a scream. As the stone soared he felt his own emotions react. Overwhelming guilt about what he was willing to do to Ron, regret at his own weakness and disappointment because the dream had ended in the same cruel reality it always did. The feelings threatened to overtake him and he knew it would be so easy to run away from it all. To disappear. To fall away like the stone had and just go - to be free from the burden of his guilt. But almost instantaneously the feeling left him because he knew he was stronger than that. He was better than that. He had come through harder trials in his life than a broken heart and he would come through this. He would fly through the sky and he would remember when life was really hard - when he wanted to land so badly but couldn't in case they caught him. In case he lost. In case he wasn't good enough. In case he was trapped. He wasn't that boy who had watched his dreams burn in a field in Dobrich. He had learned to roll with the punches and to fly until he found safety and peace. And he'd do that now, because he was strong. He was Viktor Krum, the youngest seeker in International Quidditch history and he had promises to keep. Promises to himself. To live. To survive.

To try and love.

He stuck his arms out at either side and stared up at the sky and saw a star streak across it, like a ball being shot from a cannon. He smiled as he whispered upwards. "Ñëåäâàù Ïúò, ìîëÿ ñå óáåæäàâà äåâîéêàòà ìå îáè÷à äà ïîäêðåïè. Àç íå èñêàì äà íàïðàâÿ òîâà îòíîâî".*

As the star disappeared he turned away from the ledge and jumped back on solid ground and mentally steeled himself for going down stairs. He couldn't really say that the day left him unscathed because it would have been a lie. He was changed and not all for the worst. The events, as hard as they had been, had gave him a focus. A goal. He didn't want to be the bitter, twisted man who spent his days floating through life - afraid to touch it and grab what he wanted in case he lost it. He wanted to feel freely, he wanted to be loved. He wanted to dream and now he had to - because he couldn't dream about her anymore. That ship had sailed and he had never really been close to it and he had only just realised that. It was always going to be someone else's and he had just deluded himself into believing otherwise.

But now he knew that he did not want to lose out next time. He was going to grow and learn from this and he would discover that love didn't always hurt - that people didn't always leave and that sometimes you had to learn to fall before you could appreciate soaring. And, as he couldn't fall any further than he was now all he had to do was what he did best - fly until things got better.

Stones taught me to fly,
Love just taught me to cry,
So come on courage!
Teach me to be shy...
'Cause it's not hard to fall...
And I don't want to scare her.
It's not hard to fall...
And I don't wanna lose.
It's not hard to grow...
When you know that you just don't know.

Don't know...

~FINI~