A Penned Affair

Hermione walked down the bustling streets of Hogsmeade, dressed in her new robes, holding a shopping bag from Honeyduke's under one arm. There, up on the hill ahead, was the Three Broomsticks, otherwise known as the Place of Hermione Granger's Fate. She watched the other witches and wizards who lined the roads chatter, like there was nothing wrong. She supposed there was nothing wrong in their world, where they weren't living each moment wondering if their romantic lives would come to an end.

She walked up to the pub, grasping the shiny stainless steel handle of the door, taking a deep breath. She had told no one this was happening, not even Ginny. She exhaled and pulled open the door, and looked around...

No one. She began to panic. Had he lied to her? Had he tricked her? What if he forgot? What if he'd forgotten where the Three Broomsticks was, what if...

"Herm-own-ninny?"
Hermione, at the sound of the thick Bulgarian accent, nearly screamed. She whirled around and knocked into a broad chest clothed in burgundy. It was Viktor Krum, in the flesh.

"Vik-Viktor?" she exhaled. His face broke out into what she thought was a rather half-hearted smile.

"Hello, Herm-own-ninny. Vould you like to take a seat?" He pointed to an empty table. That was Viktor, right down to business. He took her hand and led her to the table he had indicated, tucked away in the corner.

This was not as wonderful as she'd thought. She had envisioned a tearful, happy reunion where they ran into each other's arms...but Viktor was a man now, nearly twenty-two. He had grown increasingly handsome, with strong features and broad, wiry muscles. The nearby tables were looking at him pointedly and unashamedly. She hated them for it, hated everyone at that moment; she wanted to scream and throw a fit and hurt something or someone and make as much chaos as was possible.

"Viktor," Hermione breathed, wavering. "I-I don't know where to start. I mean, you-you just stopped sending letters, all of a sudden, and I didn't know whether I had done something wrong, or what and then there was the war---d'you know how awful it was not to be able to talk to someone who hadn't completely lost their head? I was surrounded by panic! All I wanted was--all I wanted was..." But the thoughts weren't connecting again, and tears were welling, but Viktor just sat there, unblinking. After a moment, he looked away, rather emotionally, but his voice remained steady.

"Herm-own-ninny," he began. "There is so much I vant to answer, so much I vant to say. You know that, don't you?"

Hermione nodded, not trusting her mouth at this point.

"I told you once, and I vill say it again. If I have hurt you, I have hurt myself a thousand times over. I need you to be brave. Can you do that?"

Another nod.

"Herm-own-ninny, I-I don't know how to say this..."

She took a breath. She didn't want to hear this, didn't want to hear this, didn't want to hear this. This was the end. I-I don't know how to say this, but I don't want to see you anymore. That's what was coming, she was sure. What other explanation was there?

"My parents, Herm-own-ninny, are traditional people. They believe in certain...old country systems. They forced me to---"there was a huge breath here "---have a certain ceremony--"

Hermione wished he would stop dancing around the inevitable pain.

"They forced me to get married to a girl named Adriana. I was married three summers ago, ven you vere, ven you vere in your sixth year, I fink."

Hermione felt her world fall and crash around her feet.