- Rating:
- PG-13
- House:
- Astronomy Tower
- Ships:
- Hermione Granger/Viktor Krum
- Characters:
- Hermione Granger Viktor Krum
- Genres:
- Romance Drama
- Era:
- In the nineteen years between the last chapter of
- Spoilers:
- Goblet of Fire Deadly Hallows (Through Ch. 36)
- Stats:
-
Published: 07/01/2011Updated: 07/01/2011Words: 7,644Chapters: 1Hits: 257
At the Start of Whatever
SwissMiss
- Story Summary:
- Viktor Krum has just moved into the most expensive block of Muggle real estate in London, and Hermione Granger wants to find out why. Viktor/Hermione, oneshot.
Chapter 01
- Posted:
- 07/01/2011
- Hits:
- 197
At the Start of Whatever
"Mummy, Hugo's
exploded his toy chest again." Rose stood in the doorway of the
bathroom, where Hermione was putting the finishing touches on her
lips. She'd never made time to learn any cosmetic charms; she hardly
wore make-up outside of special occasions, anyway.
"Is
he okay?" Hermione asked as she dabbed two spots of gloss onto
her lower lip. Her younger child's bursts of uncontrolled magic were
a routine occurrence ever since Ron had moved out eight months
earlier.
"I guess so. He's hiding in the closet."
Hermione took one last look at her reflection. Her curly hair
was much more manageable since she'd cut it short following Rose's
birth five-and-a-half years ago: she simply didn't have time to fuss
with it. Tonight, she'd pinned the ends up at the back and left
several corkscrews hanging over her forehead and at her temples. A
smidge of mascara and silvery eyeshadow made her eyes pop and sparkle
a bit. She was no fashion plate, but at least she could pass for not
being an overworked single mother of two pre-school-aged children, in
the right light. And anyway, she didn't need to impress anyone. It
would just be a few old friends, Viktor had said. Cocktails at One
Hyde Park called for evening wear, though, and it was fun to dress up
once in a while. She could certainly use a bit of fun.
She
took Rose's hand and walked down the hall to the children's room.
"You look like a mermaid, Mummy," Rose said, tentatively
reaching out to feel Hermione's shimmery blue gown.
"I
feel like one, too, all trussed up," Hermione grumbled. She'd
found the dress in a consignment shop and bought it on a crazy whim;
it wasn't her at all, with the plunging neckline and bare shoulders.
She felt like she was going to fall out of it at any moment, and had
to walk stiffly to make sure that everything stayed in place. Still,
it was glamorous and fun and she wouldn't have many chances to wear
it. It wasn't really appropriate for a wedding, which was about the
only occasion she had to wear formal wear any more. The last one had
been Neville and Hannah's, two years ago. It seemed like everyone she
knew was finally married off now. Just in time for her own marriage
to fall apart.
"Hugo, sweetie, it's all right,"
Hermione said soothingly when she entered the disaster area. Building
blocks, vehicles, dinosaurs, books, and train tracks covered the bed
and half the floor. "Come help Mummy clean up a bit before Daddy
gets here." She flicked her wand here and there, sending the
spilled toys back to their proper places. "I'm not angry; I just
haven't time right now."
Rose pointed a finger at a
wooden train engine. "Leviosa!"
Hermione
snuck a look at her out of the corner of her eye. The train didn't
budge.
"It works sometimes," Rose said with a
shrug.
"Five years old and doing wandless magic
already," Hermione sighed. "I don't know what they're going
to do with you at Hogwarts."
She directed one last
roaring brontosaurus back into the toy chest at the foot of Hugo's
bed, then went over and opened the closet. Putting her hands on her
hips, she squinted down at the little boy in mock strictness. "And
you, my little warlock."
"Sorry, Mummy," Hugo
piped up.
"Never mind, it happens to all of us,"
Hermione said, and knelt down to take his hand. "Kisses, gently
now, I have on all this silly make-up." She put her cheek
against his.
"You smell 'ummy," he said.
Hermione
smiled. "I hope that's good. Come on out, Daddy will have to
help you clean up the rest before bed. I was supposed to be at Uncle
Harry and Aunt Ginny's about five minutes ago."
"But
Daddy isn't here yet!" Rose protested anxiously. "You said
you wouldn't go until he got here."
"I won't, don't
worry. Let's get your pyjamas on."
By the time both
children were dressed for bed and had their teeth brushed, Hermione
was fifteen minutes late and trying to keep her temper in check. She
had to remind herself not to take out her frustration at Ron on the
children. She was just about to Floo Ginny that they would have to go
ahead without her when a muffled WHOOSH from the fireplace downstairs
announced someone's arrival, followed by Ron's voice calling out,
"Hey, where is everyone?"
"Daddy!" Rose
and Hugo squealed and rushed out.
When Hermione got to the
living room, she found Ron lying on the floor trying to fend off the
tackles from his two overexcited children.
"Thank you
for coming, Ron," Hermione said stiffly, trying to remain
polite. "I really have to get--"
Ron looked up at
her, his big grin freezing as he took in what she was wearing.
"Wait-- Wait, Rosey, hold on."
He gently placed his
daughter on the floor and slid out from underneath Hugo.
"What
in Merlin's name..." He gawked as he stood up and fully took in
Hermione's outfit. "You can't -- I mean-- Blimey, you said it
was just you and Harry and Ginny popping by old Krum's housewarming.
You didn't mention it was going to be you popping out of the cake!"
"Ron!" Hermione glanced down at two sets of big
eyes and ears and reminded herself to remain calm. "That's
completely uncalled for," she said in a steadily modulated tone.
"This is a classic couture creation and entirely appropriate for
the evening. I consulted with both Fleur and Ginny, and they said it
was perfect. You wouldn't be reacting this way if it were Fleur
wearing it, I'm sure."
"Fleur's not my--" Ron
stopped and swallowed. Hermione silently dared him to continue. "What
I mean is, Fleur's Fleur and you're..." He gestured up and down,
then gave it up, realizing he was only digging himself in deeper.
"Never mind. Well, have a ball," he said, avoiding her eye.
"I know we will. Right, troops?" He scooped up both
children, one in each arm.
"Don't get them wound up,
Ron, I've already got them ready for bed. Just read them a story and
--"
"Bed?!" Ron looked at Rose and Hugo,
pretending to be shocked. "Who said anything about bed? We're
going to have a party of our own, aren't we?"
"Yay!"
both children cheered.
"Ron, they need to go to bed.
It's already eight-fifteen." Hermione tried to keep the edge out
of her voice.
"I've got Animal Crackers, Canary Creams,
and Peppermint Pops," he went on, talking only to the children.
"I want a lion!" Hugo cried, and then let out a
high-pitched roar that sounded more like a hyena.
Rose sat up
straighter in Ron's arm and chattered on, "Ooh, I know, Daddy,
do like you did that time and eat half a Canary Cream and an elephant
at the same time!"
"No sweets! Ron, you're here to
babysit, not to --" Hermione felt the familiar wave of numb
frustration that she always got when Ron ignored her.
"Say
bye-bye to Mummy," Ron said with mixed measures of forcefulness
and cheer, already heading upstairs.
"Bye, Mummy! Good
night!" the children chorused.
"Ron, I swear, if
they're not in bed and sleeping when I get back--"
"Give
my regards to Krum..." Ron said over his shoulder, adding in a
low voice that Hermione just barely caught, "...the stinking old
vulture."
Hermione was left standing alone in the living
room, fighting the urge to run back up the stairs, snatch the
squealing, giggling children away from Ron, and send a Bat-Bogey Hex
and maybe a few canaries after him to chase him back out the Floo.
She wouldn't actually do it, of course. She'd hate herself
afterwards, and she'd be the one left to deal with the wailing
children and the ruined evening. As usual.
The only choice
left was to let go of her need to control and just pretend everything
would be fine when she returned: the children sound asleep in their
own beds, the house no less tidy than it was now, and no cranky sugar
hangovers to deal with tomorrow.
Hermione took a deep breath
and checked that everything was still in place, including her wand
tucked inside her waistband. Poking her in the ribs, it was an extra
reminder to stand straight and not move too quickly. She composed a
mental apology to Harry and Ginny that wouldn't make her sound like
an overbearing shrew, while still placing the blame firmly on Ron for
her tardiness, then took a pinch of Floo powder and threw it into the
grate. "The Thicket!"
======
Hermione
tripped out of the Potters' fireplace, just managing to catch herself
on her three-inch heels before she lost her balance over a stuffed
hippogriff lying before the hearth.
"Whoops!" Ginny
dashed over and Vanished the toy with a swirl of her wand. "Sorry,
Hermione. Gosh, you look divine!" she gushed, kissing Hermione
warmly on both cheeks. "That blue is perfect for you. Sorry Ron
was late. We lost track of time over the new Flyte and Barker
catalogue."
"That's all right," Hermione
replied automatically, her excuses evaporating along with her anger
at being held up. So it hadn't been entirely Ron's fault. She felt
contrite and petty now. On the other hand, Ron could have said
something. Looking back at the scene now, she guessed he had simply
been trying to get through the encounter with a minimum of exchange
between the two of them. Which had probably been the wisest course,
all things considered, given their history.
"You... look
amazing, too," she told Ginny. And she did. It was hard to
believe she'd had three children: her waist in her skin-tight red
robes was still as trim as it had been when she was seventeen, her
breasts if anything bigger and firmer. Her long hair, twisted up in a
complicated coif, was as smooth and shiny as if it had never been
yanked and tangled by sticky, snotty fingers. Next to her, Hermione
felt old and dumpy, and just a bit ridiculous.
"You
clean up all right," Harry said to Hermione as he came in. He
also looked impossibly dashing and well put-together, his endearingly
contagious grin wiping away some of Hermione's insecurity. "Ron
get there all right?"
"I told her, Harry,"
Ginny said, slipping in under his arm for a cuddle. "They sent
me the catalogue early to review for Quidditch Illustrated,"
she explained to Hermione. "There's this brilliant--"
"I
don't think Hermione's interested in the newest racing brooms,"
Harry said with a chuckle. "Maybe we should get going, as long
as Molly's got the rascals quiet. She's reading them from Beedle."
"Ugh, we should hide that book the next time she comes
over. I swear it gives them nightmares!" Ginny rolled her eyes.
"Unless you wanted to pop up and say hello?" Harry
offered Hermione.
She shook her head. Her former
mother-in-law couldn't leave the topic of her and Ron alone. "I
don't want to bother them, if they're already settled. Bedtime is
sacred."
Ginny laughed. "It's when the fun begins!"
She giggled up at Harry, who gave her a squeeze and a quick kiss.
Looking over at Hermione from under his fringe, Harry cleared
his throat. "Erm, right... let's just be on our way, then, shall
we? Still all right to Apparate to the upside-down tree?"
"Yes, please," Hermione said. She loved Harry, and
by extension Ginny, but being around so much happiness and domestic
bliss was hard to take sometimes. A moment later, Hermione blinked
out.
======
The
upside-down tree wasn't the most auspicious location to begin what
was supposed to be an evening surrounded by glamour and opulence. A
huge, weeping beech tree whose hanging branches formed a nearly
perfect private cupola, it hid from view anything beneath it. It also
smelled more than faintly of piss, and despite the Muggle-repelling
charms, Hermione had heard of wizards and witches startling
half-drunk bums and strung-out junkies out of their stupor when they
arrived at the secluded Apparition point. For the most part, no
Obliviations or interventions by the Office of Misinformation were
necessary, however; the sudden appearances, when reported to Muggle
authorities, were generally put down to imagination or flat-out
hallucination.
Tonight, the three friends were luckily not
confronted by any such scene, and they slipped out into the park
proper without anyone noticing them.
It was a short walk to
the brand-new luxury development next to the Mandarin Oriental in
Knightsbridge. The evening was cool, and Hermione pulled her wrap
closer around her shoulders, shivering more due to nervousness than
the actual temperature.
She hadn't seen Viktor since Bill and
Fleur's wedding. After Harry defeated Voldemort, Krum landed on a
list of undesirables and was denied re-entry to the country, due to
his association as a student at Durmstrang with the convicted Death
Eater, Igor Karkaroff. There was also the unfortunate incident during
the Triwizard Tournament when he had cast the Cruciatus Curse on
Cedric Diggory. Never mind that Karkaroff had disassociated himself
from the Death Eaters before becoming Headmaster of Durmstrang, and
then been killed by them as a traitor during the second war. Nor that
Viktor had been under the Imperius when he attacked Diggory. The
backlash and suspicion against anyone who had even the most tenuous
ties to Lord Voldemort, the Death Eaters, or Pius Thicknesse's
administration was hard to overcome; even now, thirteen years later.
Still, Hermione had kept occasional tabs on Viktor through
the press and word of mouth. She knew that he hadn't let the British
prejudice put a crimp in his style or his career, and continued to
play professional Quidditch for the Bulgarian National team as well
as the Vratsa Vultures. Wise investments, well-placed endorsements,
and savvy betting had increased his fortune to rival that of the
Malfoys, and apparently the British Ministry saw that as reason
enough to relax their visa requirements in Viktor's favor now.
She
wasn't expecting anything particular to come of seeing him tonight;
he probably had a gorgeous girlfriend, and flew in circles Hermione
was neither interested in, nor could ever be a part of. Still, he had
been her first real, serious crush (Lockhart didn't count; she had
only been twelve, and she had never entertained any thoughts of
actually dating him), her first kiss that went farther than a peck on
the lips, and the first time she'd been confronted with the
possibility of losing her virginity. Nothing happened in the end, but
Hermione wasn't so naive as to think that his suggestion that she
visit him in Bulgaria the summer following the Triwizard Tournament,
when she was fifteen, was merely an invitation to see the Varna
Necropolis and learn how to make yogurt. In the end, she was too
scared to go through with it, and their owl correspondence died off
quickly. Viktor was not a man of the written word. Still, she often
looked back fondly on her brief flirt with him, and was curious and
excited to see what he was like now.
As they approached South
Carriage Drive, the distinctively elegant, warm orange facade of the
Oriental dominated the streetscape across from the park. Next to it,
the boxy glass-and-girder modern construction of One Hyde Park
appeared comparatively mundane. It was difficult to believe that the
relatively unassuming row of four low-rise buildings comprised 'the
most desirable address on the planet' for the super-rich (if a
certain Muggle publication were to be believed).
Hermione was
also interested to find out why Viktor had chosen such a pretentious
- and Muggle - location to be his British base of operations. Due to
the concentrated electromagnetic fields running through the building,
it was impossible to connect to the Floo network; thus the need to
arrive in the manner they had. That was the reason most wizards chose
to live in their own enclaves, away from the electro-smog that
permeated most Muggle settlements.
The lobby was flashy and
overstated - garish, really - and the so-called security measures
nothing that any average wizard couldn't easily have bypassed.
Hermione was going to mention it to Harry, until the lift stopped and
they stepped out directly into Viktor's entry hall. The decor
screamed Muggle opulence, with mirrors, dark wood, marble, and
brocaded fabrics everywhere. What caught Hermione's attention first,
however, was the slight buzz of the Dark detection field as they
passed over the threshhold, along with a subtle whiff of sulphur and
anise, the telltale traces of protection warding.
There was
no time to analyze Viktor's security measures further, however, as a
tall, strikingly beautiful blonde with high cheekbones and a Slavic
slant to her eyes approached them. Hermione felt inexplicably drawn
to her. There was something fascinating about her that Hermione
couldn't quite put her finger on.
"Mr Potter," she
greeted Harry in lightly accented English, and then turned to Ginny.
"And this must be your wife. It's a pleasure. My name is Vesna.
Viktor has asked me to help play hostess for him this evening. And
you are?" She turned her perfectly straight white teeth toward
Hermione.
"Hermione Granger," Hermione answered, at
the same time as Harry said, "This is Hermione Weasley."
There was an awkward moment, during which Harry mumbled an
apology and Hermione felt her cheeks go red.
"Hermione
Granger," she said firmly, accepting Vesna's outstretched hand.
Vesna's perfectly shaped eyebrows went up slightly. "Oh,
you are the Hermione."
She flicked her gaze up
and down once, then smiled graciously and asked if any of them had a
cloak or wrap she could take care of for them. Demurring, the three
of them were expertly shuffled into the adjacent reception room so
that Vesna could greet the next arrivals. Hermione wondered what she
had meant by the remark. Had Viktor mentioned her? She shook off the
thought. Vesna had probably just seen her name on a guest list, and
found it unusual.
Ginny grabbed Hermione's elbow and hissed,
"I think she's part Veela or something. Did you feel that?
Weird. Fleur never had that effect on me. Wonder if she's Viktor's
thing."
"Lucky bloke, if so," Harry said.
Ginny slapped him lightly on the arm. "I'm only saying, Gin,"
he protested with a laugh.
Hermione thought it was fairly
clear that Vesna was, indeed, Viktor's 'thing'. That was one box
ticked off, anyway.
She was expecting an intimate gathering
of perhaps a dozen close acquaintances, but what they now walked into
looked more like a Ministry Christmas party, albeit one in much more
well-heeled surroundings than the level three staff room. The
panoramic, floor-to-ceiling windows gave a truly spectacular view of
the glittering London lights, and the chandeliers would have been at
home in any ballroom. There was a low drone of important
conversation, punctuated by well-modulated chuckles and the clinking
of expensive crystal champagne glasses.
Hermione didn't
recognize anyone right off the bat, but Ginny started pointing out
various movers and shakers from the world of Quidditch. "Maybe I
can corner Fidelovich and see what he has to say about those rumours
he's going to buy the Goblins."
"No, you're not,"
Harry said, pulling her closer. "No work tonight. Viktor didn't
invite these people here to have their lives investigated." He
did a double-take as a tall, thin wizard disappeared behind a
planter. "Although... Did that look anything like Magruder
Tuttleswitch to you? We've been wanting to ask him some questions
about a suspicious shop in one of his buildings..."
"No
work tonight, Harry," Ginny teased.
"And speaking
of Veela..." Hermione muttered as a familiar blonde head emerged
from the crowd, followed by an equally familiar red one.
"'Arry!
Geeny!" Fleur effused, kissing her sister- and brother-in-law on
the cheek. "'Ow wonderful to see you! And you as well,
'Ermione." Hermione wanted to ask whether Fleur could tell if
Vesna was part-Veela, but dismissed it as rude. And anyway, it was
none of her business what the background of Viktor's girlfriend was.
While Harry and Bill slapped each other on the back and
exchanged news, Fleur rounded on Hermione and Ginny. "Thees...."
She gestured at Ginny's red robes with her half-full champagne glass.
"Did we not agree you would wear ze cream?"
"You
suggested it, but I felt like more pizzazz tonight," Ginny
replied, flipping the skirt back and forth. The two sisters-in-law
had come to an understanding of sorts: Fleur continued to tell Ginny
what to do, and Ginny cheerfully ignored her.
Fleur turned to
Hermione. "And zis blue... did I not tell you it would be
perfect?"
"It looks fantastic," Ginny agreed.
"Very sexy. I like what you've done with your hair, too."
"Next time, let me come over an hour early and help you
with your make-up," Fleur said, brushing lightly at Hermione's
cheek. "Rouge is so difficult to apply correctly."
"I haven't used any," Hermione said, exchanging a
look with Ginny. It was best just to let Fleur have her say and get
it over with.
"I 'ave some poudre, if you
want..." Fleur suggested.
Hermione was saved from having
to answer by the arrival of their host. For some reason, Hermione's
stomach clenched nervously at the sight. Viktor was a commanding
presence in his Muggle black-tie tuxedo coupled with fur-lined outer
robes. Everyone else seemed small and pale in comparison, even the
lanky Bill and his stunning wife. Viktor had let his hair grow out a
bit, and it jutted out rough and thick over his forehead. Hermione
wondered in a random flash what it felt like.
"Hello,"
he said. It was clear even through that one word that his English had
improved drastically since his visit to Hogwarts so long ago,
although he still spoke with a distinctly foreign rhythm. "I am
pleased you could all come tonight," he said, rather stiffly.
"Hermione..." He addressed her first, pronouncing her name
perfectly as he took her hand and locked eyes with her, then
whispered a kiss across the back of her hand. It could have been mere
politeness, or a flirt, and the ambiguity confused and excited
Hermione. But Viktor greeted Fleur and Ginny in the same manner, and
Hermione was embarrassed at thinking he might have meant something by
it. He had Vesna, after all!
Viktor made some brief small
talk with Bill and Harry, and then turned to Hermione. "You and
I. We will dance later. Like the Yule Ball." He then nodded once
and excused himself to move on to the next group of guests.
Everyone looked at her once Viktor left. "What was that
about?" Ginny asked, while Harry commented, "That was
strange."
"I have no idea," Hermione said. She
hoped there was no dancing. It was all she could do to stand and walk
straight in the unfamiliar heels. She vowed to make herself scarce if
they started setting up a dance floor.
"Ooh, yes, later
we will dance," Fleur said, shimmying up suggestively against
her husband. "You are a much better danseur than that
boy... What was 'is name?" She looked at Hermione, wrinkling up
her perfect little nose in question.
"Who?"
"You
know, ze boy 'oo I was made to dance with at ze Yule Ball! I suppose
he had a good fashion sense, but he was un danseur terrible.
He did not know what to do wiz 'is hands."
Hermione
couldn't for the life of her recall the name of Fleur's date.
"Roger Davies," Harry supplied, to Hermione's
surprise.
Fleur gave him a grateful smile. "Yes, Roger.
He had nice 'air, as well, but a very plain face." She caressed
Bill's rugged cheek.
Bill laughed, a throaty sound, and
nipped playfully at Fleur's neck.
Hermione squirmed inside.
"I think I'll just go see about some champagne," she said
brightly.
"I'll come with you," Ginny volunteered.
"Ugh, awkward," she said, once they were out of earshot.
"Bill's forty, for Merlin's sake."
"I guess
it's nice they're still in love," Hermione said, trying to be
generous.
"Yes, but there's a time and a place. I'm just
afraid they're still going to be at it like rabbits when they're
eighty." She gave an exaggerated shudder.
It didn't take
them long to find the bar, which was being worked by a dark, stocky
wizard who didn't speak any English.
"Viktor's really
gone all out with this do," Ginny said, once they had secured
three flutes of bubbly. "He seems to have become quite the
entrepreneur. Lots of pies he's got his fingers in. I think he's
trying to impress someone. Or a lot of someones."
Hermione
made a noncommital sound. "All the more strange he invited us.
Well, me, anyway," she amended. "You and Harry are
important enough, with your Quidditch connections and Harry being
Harry."
"You're important," Ginny insisted.
"You were part of Harry's team, after all. And Viktor can always
use a friend like you in the Ministry."
Hermione
chuckled wryly. "I hardly think Viktor will need any favors from
the MuLO." Hermione had been offered the directorship of the
Muggle Liaison Office right out of school. She knew she owed the
appointment to Arthur and Kingsley, but she was good at her job, and
it helped that she was fluent in both wizard and Muggle culture.
"Well, there may be another reason as well," Ginny
suggested slyly. "I don't know, but that was quite a look he
gave you back there. And the invitation to dance. I'd say it was more
like a command. He's a man who knows what he wants, Hermione. You
might have a bit of a situation on your hands." She grinned.
Hermione shook her head, slightly annoyed that Ginny was even
bringing it up. "We haven't seen each other in over ten years. I
hardly think he's been carrying a torch for me in secret all this
time. Even so, he's got some image of me as a fifteen-year-old in his
head. I'm a thirty-one-year-old single mother with a nine-to-five job
and saggy tits. He has Veela and professional athletes to choose
from."
Ginny broke out laughing. "You're selling
yourself short, Hermione. You've still got a good set there."
Hermione gave Ginny a withering look.
"Anyway,
maybe he doesn't care about looks. Not that you don't look good,"
Ginny hastened to point out, "but maybe he's been pining for
your brains all these years."
"Thanks for the vote
of confidence, Ginny, but I only came here to relax and have a night
to myself. I'm not in the market for a man. I've got my kids, and my
career, and that's all I need or want."
"We'll
see," Ginny said with a mischievous grin. She took a sip from
her glass and made an appreciative sound. "This stuff is good.
Viktor is definitely out to impress. I'd better get this to Harry
before it warms up."
"You go ahead," Hermione
said, noting that Fleur and Bill were still with Harry. She was
feeling a bit of a fifth wheel. "I'm going to slip out onto the
balcony for some air."
Ginny looked sympathetic. "Harry
and I will join you, as soon as we can get away from the lovebirds."
It was dark now, and the night air drifting over from the
park was damp and chilly. Hermione cast a warming charm on her wrap
and pulled it closer about her shoulders. It really was a good view,
if you liked cities. There were tiny white fairy lights in the trees
lining the paths of the park across the street, and she could even
see the fountain in the lake lit up with its nightly display of
colored lights, shifting from turquoise to pink to sunset orange. To
the left, down the street past the Mandarin Oriental, the dome on
Harrod's roof was outlined in yellow lights against the dark blue
sky.
She meant what she'd told Ginny: she didn't need - or
want - a man in her life. The break from Ron had been horrible, but
not because she missed having him around. It was the admission of her
failure, of the emotional damage her children might suffer, that
pained her. All in all, though, she was personally more at ease with
herself, and was more loving and generous toward Rose and Hugo
without the stress of having to deal with Ron, or suppress her
knee-jerk reactions to many of his behaviours. She knew the blame lay
mostly with her that things had got so bad between them. She'd tried,
for the sake of the children, but things were truly healthier for
everyone this way. She nipped at her champagne and watched the
traffic creeping along beneath her.
After quite a while, the
door open behind her, briefly allowing the dull buzz of party sounds
to override the traffic noise. She turned around with a half-smile on
her face, expecting Ginny and Harry.
"Viktor!" she
exclaimed, momentarily flustered. She touched her hair
self-consciously.
Viktor's angular features broke into a warm
smile. "I have been looking for you. You are not having a good
time?"
"Oh, no, it's not that!" Hermione
assured him. "I'm just enjoying the view. A bit selfish of me, I
know. I so seldom have time to myself."
"Yes, you
are Mama Bear," Viktor said as he slid into place against the
railing next to her. "You must take care of your cubs." His
eyes held hers.
Hermione smiled, trying to suppress the way
her heart rate was increasing. She was really on the best way to
embarrassing herself royally! "Yes, I suppose I must. So... you
know I have two children?"
"Yes. Rose and Hugo. You
and Ronald Weasley were married, soon after the war ended."
Hermione wasn't sure what to make of the fact that he had
obviously kept tabs on her, just as she had on him. Well, her name
still made the Prophet from time to time. He wouldn't necessarily
have had to go to any special lengths. "We're divorced now,"
she blurted out.
"I heard. I'm sorry."
Hermione
nodded and looked out over the park. "Me too. I wish it had
worked out. But it didn't." She smiled suddenly then, and turned
halfway around to gesture toward the building. Better move on to a
more impersonal topic. "You have a lovely flat here. Lovely--
what am I saying? It's fantastic! The location, the decor...
everything." She cringed at herself. She sounded like she was
gushing.
"It is adequate," Viktor said with a
modest shrug. "It is important for business."
"It's
interesting that you chose such a ... well, a Muggle location,"
Hermione said. "Do you do much business with Muggles, then?"
"Nye. Not yet."
"But you want
to?"
"Hermione--" Hermione's stomach clenched
again at the way her name now rolled smoothly off his tongue. He made
it sound like the wind rumbling over the ocean. "What is the
British wizarding population?"
"I'm sorry?"
Hermione didn't understand the question.
"Numbers. You
are good at numbers."
"Oh, erm..." She thought
quickly. She should know this. "About thirteen thousand, by most
recent estimates."
Viktor nodded in appreciation. "Da.
Now, tell me where the money is. Who has the money?"
"Well,
the Malfoys are still very well off, even if they've been less showy
since the war. The Parkinsons. Hortensia Klump. Erm..." She
tried to recall more names from the society pages.
"Da.
You are correct. Some more, too. We can name them. It will not take
long. Also the goblins. Very rich, but difficult to do business with.
Very difficult, especially for outsiders. But think. You are a smart
woman. I can buy the Daily Prophet from Parkinson." Viktor
snapped his fingers. "Like that. It does not gain me much money.
Influence, maybe. Okay. Now Parkinson has cash. Needs to invest.
Where does he go? He can buy property from Malfoy, if he will sell.
He sold much, in the last ten years. Now, he has not much to sell.
But maybe Parkinson can buy something because he is an old friend.
Now what? Malfoy has cash. Needs to invest. He comes to me, wants to
buy the Prophet. You see the problem?"
"Yes,"
Hermione said, nodding eagerly. "It's all the same money. There
are so few wizards with good, solid holdings, there's no room for
expansion. You're all just cycling the money amongst yourselves."
Viktor winked and pointed at her. "Da. Unless we
find new resources, new technology, new markets. No new influx of
capital is possible. Wizards are not much interested in technology,
inventions. Can you get rich making a new spell? Nye. George
does well for himself. He is an exception. Maybe I do business with
him. New broom? Better sport, more fun, no money. The market is too
small."
"But the Muggles," Hermione jumped in.
"They're discovering lots of new resources, inventing new
technologies every day. And there are many more of them."
"See? I said you are a smart woman. I will do business
with Muggles. I have many friends already in Russia, Ukraine. They
told me to buy property here. They have flats here too. We are
neighbors, we do business. I am one of them. I am still a wizard,
too. I play Quidditch, is fun. But I get older." He tapped his
shoulder. "Maybe in ten years I will be too old, too slow. The
wizard population does not grow. Sometimes, it shrinks. I am a
Seeker. You understand? I seek. I look. I see opportunity. It is
there, at the corner of my eye. I grab it, even if it is out of
bounds. You understand?"
"Absolutely. It's very
forward-looking, very well thought out."
Viktor
shrugged, but it there was pride shining through the apparent
modesty. "But this is enough with business. All my life is
business. You came for fun. Me too. In there it is business."
Viktor indicated the room where all the guests were. "Out here
it is fun. I am happy you are here."
"Me too,"
Hermione said, having lost some of her nervousness in the course of
their conversation. "I was interested to see how you'd done for
yourself. I must say I'm impressed. I'm happy for you. And Vesna is
lovely," she forced herself to say.
"You did well,
too. Good children. Good work. Good ..." He made a vague gesture
that encompassed her from head to toe. "You grew up well. Good."
He nodded.
Hermione looked down, trying to hide an
embarrassed smile. The nervousness was returning. Viktor was
difficult for her to read. "Thank you. Um... you too. And your
English," she went on, seizing on another impersonal topic.
"Your English has improved so much."
"I
practiced. Especially your name, I practiced."
"My
name?"
"I said it wrong before, when we were young.
I apologize. It is an unusual name for my tongue. But a beautiful
name. I wanted to say it properly. I listened to radio announcements
from the British Wizarding Wireless. I repeated your name until I
said it correctly. Vesna helped me. She is very good at English. But
I will be better. You will teach me."
Well, that
explained Vesna's comment about her name. Still, Hermione was taken
aback, and a bit affronted. It was one thing to 'demand' a dance,
quite another to assume she would teach him English. "Viktor, I
have a full-time job..." she began, trying to be polite.
"I
do not mean to hire you. You see, I am not good at explaining my
meaning." He shook his head, frustrated at himself. "We
will talk. We will be friends. In this way, I will learn. You
understand?"
"Yes," Hermione agreed, relaxing.
"That would be nice. Whenever you're in town. We could have
lunch."
"Da, lunch," he muttered. Now
it was Viktor's turn to look down.
Hermione was startled at
the apparently sudden change in his demeanour. "Viktor? Is
something wrong?" She laid her fingertips lightly on his
forearm.
He shook his head. "No. You are right. When I
make business in England, we will have lunch." Viktor pushed
himself away from the railing and snapped his fingers, then held out
his hand. "Now, Hermione Granger. I am asking you. Will you do
me the honour of one dance?"
From somewhere
indeterminate, the faint strains of a song began to play, a waltz
that Hermione didn't recognize. She squirmed. She didn't want to
dance, especially not in front of all those strangers and VIPs. She
looked through the window.
"But no one's dancing,"
Hermione said. "Anyway, I'm not really--"
"Please.
One time. You do not recognize the song? It is the one they played to
open the Yule Ball. It is sentimental of me, I know. Maybe we will
not have the chance again. The first time I came to England, it made
my horizons broad. I started seeing things in a new way. I did not
know there was another way, other than the Durmstrang way. Now, I am
coming back. It is another new start. Both times, I dance with you.
It is a good-luck charm, a superstition." He dropped his hand.
"It is foolish, I am sorry."
"No!"
Hermione protested, touched. "No, not at all. It's..." She
wanted to say 'romantic', but that would be reading too much into it.
"...poetic," she decided. "And I would be honoured to
dance with you. But only out here, please, where no one is watching.
I've forgotten how it goes." She took a step closer to Viktor
and smiled up at him shyly.
Viktor snapped his fingers to
Vanish her champagne glass, then very formally took one of her hands
in his and bowed to her, as he had when they opened the Yule Ball as
one of the four champion couples. Hermione flashed back to that
moment of herself as a fifteen-year-old, her heart fluttering at the
honour of being Viktor's date and a bit awestruck at his foreignness
and celebrity. The hand on her waist now was certain, though, the
face looking down at her that of a man who had seen the world.
Up
close, Hermione could see that he had fine lines around his eyes, and
his hawk-like nose was maybe a bit more crooked than she remembered.
He smelled like forests, hearthfire, and amber. And dammit, she
couldn't deny that she was reacting to him. It was probably partially
the memories, but part of it was new. She was flattered by the
attentions from this powerful, virile wizard. And, it must be said,
it had been a very long time since she'd been held in a man's arms
like this.
"You remember, Hermione," Viktor said in
his deep voice.
She felt the blood rush to her head, caught
in her thoughts. "Remember? Oh, the dance. Not really. Physical
memory, I suppose." She had to remind herself that he was taken,
not get carried away. "You're still a good dancer," she
said as he dipped her over the edge of the balcony. She tipped her
face up and laughed, hoping to chase away the butterflies in her
stomach, and felt a cool mist touch her skin. "Oh, it's
raining."
Viktor pulled her back under the overhang,
where it was dry. She stopped moving her feet, but Viktor wouldn't
end the dance yet and pulled her closer. "The music is not
over," he said. "I will cast a drying charm if you wish. It
is very beautiful, though. It is like diamonds in your hair."
Hermione looked up at Viktor and saw that his fringe, too,
was dusted with tiny sparkling droplets. Their eyes met, and Hermione
could tell that he was about to kiss her. She had a moment of panic
as a myriad thoughts shot through her mind. She wasn't prepared for
this, but it seemed so right.
Before anything more could
happen, though, the door opened. Hermione, startled, turned around.
Her heart dropped to see Vesna staring at them, and she jumped away
from Viktor.
"Viktor, there you are," Vesna said,
rather coolly, it seemed to Hermione. "You are neglecting your
guests."
"I will be there soon. Please." His
voice sounded rough.
Vesna nodded and went back inside, but
not without giving Hermione a glance that was more curious than
offended.
Hermione was mortified. "Oh no, Viktor. I'm
sorry. I'll go explain to her."
"Explain?"
"About this. About us, dancing. She shouldn't get the
wrong idea. I mean-- I don't want you to have any trouble with her,
because she saw us together. I'll tell her it was completely
innocent."
Viktor frowned and clenched his fist. "I
do not understand why it matters what Vesna thinks."
Now
it was Hermione's turn to be confused. "Isn't she your
girlfriend?"
Viktor's face took on an incredulous
expression, and then he burst out in a full-throated laugh. "No,"
he said. "Vesna is my assistant. She works for me."
"But
she's--"
"Very beautiful, yes. Like Fleur, she is
part Veela. She is very useful in negotiations. But you do not need
to worry. She does not like men. You understand? She prefers other
females. Or maybe you do need to worry." Viktor's eyes crinkled
with mirth.
Hermione laughed now as well. That explained why
she and Ginny had felt the slight attraction of the Veela charm. "And
all this time, I thought... Oh, Viktor, I'm sorry."
"No,
Hermione, I am sorry. I should have explained." He moved closer
again, but was careful not to touch her. "Is this why you are so
... formal?"
Hermione sighed. "In part." She
looked up at him again, searching in his dark eyes for understanding.
"Viktor, I didn't come here tonight to rekindle anything. I
don't even really know you, to be honest. We were kids when we met.
At least I was. I had fun with you, but it was all too much for me
then, and I don't know, it might be now, too. You're rich, and
famous, and have a high-powered lifestyle with the crème de la
crème in sports and business. I don't fit into that. And, as
you said, my children have to come first."
"I did
not know what will happen when you came here tonight either,"
Viktor said. "I invited everyone I know in England. Maybe too
many." He shrugged and smiled. "But then I saw you, and I
thought, here is a woman I want to know. Maybe you do not make money
for me or make me important contacts. This is not important. When we
met, you were the only person who did not care how well I play
Quidditch, or whether I win the Tournament. Maybe, you are the only
person now who does not care how much money I have. Maybe I am
thinking too much about money. Always business, always seeking. You
understand? Maybe I saw you and remembered what it is like to just
talk. Hold hands."
He delicately picked up one of
Hermione's hands in his and rubbed his thumb across the back. A
thrill zinged through her body. She looked up at him, and this time
she didn't back away when he leaned down to touch his lips to hers.
They kissed each other tentatively, then tenderly. Hermione's head
swirled, her emotions in turmoil. She couldn't get involved -- she
hardly knew him -- she wasn't doing anything wrong -- it was just a
kiss -- and it felt so good. When it ended, she pressed her cheek
against his.
"You have guests," she whispered.
A
chuckle rumbled through his chest. "I should not have invited so
many."
"They are rather a lot." Hermione
pulled back to look up at him, fretting. "Viktor, I don't know.
What is this? What are we doing?"
"I think we are
kissing."
Hermione laughed. "Yes, that's right. And
it was a very good kiss."
"Very good."
Hermione's stomach tingled and her heart beat even faster at
the look he gave her.
"And now?" she asked.
"Now
we will go inside, and I will make all the right people feel
important. You will go talk to Ginny. She is watching us." He
cocked his head toward the window, where Hermione caught Ginny
turning away, pretending to laugh at something Harry was saying.
Hermione shook her head at her friend. "And then?"
"I will be here all week. Maybe tomorrow, we will have
lunch." He raised his eyebrows, questioning.
Hermione
smiled. "Yes, I'd like that. And then, maybe, some day, we can
finish our dance."
"Da," agreed Viktor.
"You and I, we will dance again."
The End
Author's
notes: This was written for
hp_spring_fling 2011.
The title is from "The
Flood" by Take That. The requester's prompts were:
Happy ends, new love, not yet established relationships, fluff,
humor, bantering, well written smut, One Hyde Park, a diamond tiara,
and the lyrics from "The Flood" by Take
That. I didn't get any smut in, and I took a bit of liberty with the
diamond tiara. ;) Beta reader: En En Chan from PI.
I don't know anything about London other than what I read in the internet, so I hope the details I've described are physically possible. The French is my own, but I'm not a native speaker, so I hope I got that right too. The Bulgarian is from Google translate, which is like asking a three-year-old to proofread your term paper, but I don't know any Bulgarians. Still, how wrong can you go with 'yes' and 'no'? I got my figures for the wizarding population from this post by inverarity: http://fanfiction.mugglenet.com/forum/showthread.php?t=30941 and this one at Red Hen Publications: http://www.redhen-publications.com/WizPopulation.html