Krum Do I Love?

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Hermione sat in the Great Hall, thinking. The food in front of her smelled delicious, and had a great texture as well. It really formed marvellous shapes when she shifted it around with her fork.

Her elbow rested on the table, and her head was leaning against the heel of her hand. She was too busy thinking of the Yule Ball to eat. After the huge success it had been on Yule night at her fourth year, the ball had become as essential part of Christmas. And now it was only two days away, and Hermione still didn't have anyone who wanted to go as her partner.

Last year she went with Neville Longbottom, who found himself suddenly alone, after Ginny started dating Harry. But she couldn’t go with him this year. They would draw too many venomous darts, especially from the Slytherins. During the past year, Hermione had grown taller by at least three inches, and Neville, well, hadn’t. She didn’t think she could stand even one more snide comment Malfoy would make, and she didn’t want to get expelled for cursing a fellow student. Even if he deserved it.

The year before that, Hermione went with Viktor Krum. Her first ball ever, and she went with a TriWizard champion, a Quidditch star, and a really nice guy. Hermione smiled. She really liked Viktor. The regular owl correspondence she kept with him during the last two years had made her know him as a sweet, sensitive guy, who was, unfortunately, very far away.

There was always Ron, of course. He didn’t have a date for the Yule Ball either, but Hermione couldn’t go with him. She hadn’t spoken to him for two weeks now. She was still angry with him for copying her Potions assignment word-to-word without even asking her permission. Snape obviously caught them, and was very happy to grant them with failing mark and detentions. Hermione spent two nights scrubbing armour suits instead of studying. So she couldn’t go with Ron.

Maybe she would just stay in the dormitories. She had a lot of work on the second round of the OWLs, and the NEWTs were only eighteen months away. Some quiet time with her books could prove most useful.

Still moving her fork slowly over her food, Hermione was just about to add a third tower to her mashed-potato castle when her plate suddenly disappeared. She looked at the empty space on table with wide eyes. The golden fork was still in her hand, and everyone else’s plates seemed to be in place, but hers was gone. She drew back from the table, blinking more rapidly than normal.

The moment Hermione removed her elbow from the table, something appeared on it. A huge bouquet of rare magical flowers that took up the entire space between Harry to her left and Neville to her right. It had blinking carnations, colour-changing roses, humming geraniums, and many others that Hermione didn’t know by name. Dew droplets hovered about the bouquet, sparkling in the candlelight.

Hermione had seen flowers like these before, but only in books. And such a large collection of them she had never seen, not even in a picture. She drew back in awe, gasping at the sight, unable to take her eyes off it.

"Bee-ooti-ful, aren’t they, Hermy-own-ninny?" said a creamy voice behind her back.

The familiar, and yet alien voice made Hermione’s gaze tear off the flowers, and turn back. The speech was Viktor’s, but he couldn’t... he wasn’t... he would have written to her if he was coming to Hogwarts.

Nevertheless, she recognised the skinny features, the thick black hair, and the bushy black eyebrows, with the warm, black eyes underneath them. It was Viktor Krum who stood there, smiling smugly. "They are," said Hermione, her voice sounding to her like it had travelled a great distance to get there.

"But not as bee-ooti-ful as you, Hermy-own-ninny," Viktor said with a deep voice. He looked at her, and his eyes looked even darker than she remembered.

"Did you bring them with you?" she asked astonished. She was aware of the small crowd that was beginning to form around them.

"For you. All the vay from Bulgaria," he said, ignoring the curious spectators. "I vanted to bring someffing that vill match your beauty, but I haff failed." He took her right hand and raised it to his lips. He kissed her hand gently, his mouth hovering above her fingers just close enough to send shivers along her arm, and all the way down her spine.

"I... Thank you," Hermione mumbled, trying to put some order into her thoughts. "Why didn’t you write to let me know you were coming? I would have..." she would have dressed up for him and have used make-up charms. Instead, she said, "I would have cleared time to spend with you, without school assignments."

"That is all right," Viktor assured her. "I haff things to look up in the library as vell. Ve can go there together, just like ve used to." He still held her hand, and was now kissing the inside of her palm.

Hermione drew her hand back slowly, yet determinately. Measuring her features, Viktor allowed her to take it. "So, I understand there is a Yule Ball here the day after tomorrow," he said. "Do you haff any engagements for the ball?"

"Actually, no," Hermione admitted.

"Vell," said Viktor, a triumphant smile on his lips, "Vood you like to go vith me?" He finished the question without the smile, and looked at her anxiously.

"Of course I would," Hermione said before a second had passed. Applause filled the air around them. Hermione blushed to the roots of her hair, and even Viktor, who was used to large audiences, shifted his weight uncomfortably.

"Maybe ve should go someplace else," he suggested. Hermione accepted his extended hand willingly, but then stopped, giving the bouquet an anguished look. "I vill arrange for the flowers to be moved to your dormitories," Viktor promised, smiling at Hermione’s obvious relief.

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Draco Malfoy rose to his feet as he saw Viktor Krum step into the Great Hall. Two years before, when Krum was a guest of the Slytherin house, he and Draco were on very good terms. True, they didn’t exactly stay friends afterwards; only the occasional owl on birthdays and Christmas. Still, Draco made sure he was always well informed about all the Bulgarian national team games, just in case an opportunity arose. And that opportunity seemed to have just walked into the room.

At first, Draco thought that Krum was there to visit his Slytherin friends from the Triwizard Tournament days. Then, he realised Krum was heading towards the Gryffindor table. He was going to see that know-it-all Mudblood, Hermione.

It was beyond Draco’s ability to understand what Krum found in that Mudblood. He was from a very-well respected European bloodline. His family could be traces hundreds of years back. Even without that heritage, Viktor Krum was one of the richest, most famous wizards alive, and was considered the best Quidditch Seeker in the world. Hermione didn’t even like Quidditch. She didn’t understand the game at all. Of course, not much can be expected from someone who only heard of Quidditch when she was eleven.

Krum had everything going for him. He could get practically every girl he wanted. Why would he want her anyway? True, he had his disadvantages when it came to looks. This was actually the funny thing about this couple. She was in fact very pretty and...

Draco shook the thought off his head. What was he doing thinking about a Mudblood in terms of ‘pretty’. There’s nothing wrong in revering nature’s beauty, Draco thought in an attempt to justify that odd shiver that passed through him. A Unicorn was very pretty too. That didn’t mean he was interested in a unicorn for an intimate relationship.

Was he comparing the Mudblood to a Unicorn? A Unicorn was ten times more magical than this almost muggle girl. Draco had to admit that she knew her way with spells. She was even better than he was in some areas. This was a cause for many reprimands from his father. Then again, he was much better than her with anything that had to do with the Dark Arts. A smirk spread on his face as he remembered his father teaching him how to toss a fireball. His fires were large and reached far and made his father proud.

Ignoring the fact that Krum was standing too close to the Gryffindor table, Draco began to walk towards him. He was too late, though. Before he even passed the Ravenclaw table, the world-famous Quidditch seeker walked out of the Hall, hand in hand with the pretty little Mudblood. Draco's smirk turned momentarily into a sneer, but then returned to decorate his face as he saw Ron Weasley's expression. In all his attempts to annoy the hot-tempered Redhead he did not get to see such a tormented look on his face. He only wished he had a camera.

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Many eyes followed Hermione and Krum as they left the Great Hall, but the most interested pair had to belong to Ron. True, he hadn’t exchanged a word with Hermione in two weeks (his fault she was mad), but she still was one of his two best friends. His other best friend, Harry Potter, was watching them right beside him, chewing lazily on a tremendously large piece of Yorkshire pudding.

The moment the couple was gone from sight, Harry turned back to his plate and took another huge bite of the pie.

Ron kept his gaze on the door, half-hoping that it would open, and Hermione would return, saying that this was a weird case of mistaken identity.

"Did you see how he just swept her off her feet?" Ron asked Harry absentmindedly. "Unbelievable! I thought Hermione was smarter than that.

Harry stopped chewing and looked at him with his mouth half open. "With those flowers? Are you kidding? I would have gone with him too, if he’d asked."

Ron gave looked at him the same way Snape usually observed his Gryffindor students.

"Well, maybe I wouldn’t," Harry said meekly. "But I’m sure any girl would. And anyway, he’s a friend of hers, why wouldn’t she go?"

"That wasn’t very friendly, the way he kissed her!" Ron called.

"Oh, for goodness sake, Ron," Ginny scolded. "He only kissed her hand. What do you care, anyway?"

Ron seemed as if he just woke from a dream. He moved his gaze back to the food and took his fork resolutely in his hand. "I don’t."

"Good," said Ginny.

"Good," repeated Ron.

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The night was very cold. Very few stars were visible between the heavy clouds. Victor took off his heavy wool cloak and moved even closer to Hermione. Slowly, he wrapped the dark warmth around her shoulders, keeping one hand around her when he was done. They walked like that for several minutes, not talking, making their way leisurely towards the lake.

"Aren’t you cold?" asked Hermione, her voice only barely audible.

"No. Vere I come from it is much colder," said Viktor. "This is nice autumn evening for me." His voice was deep and tender, and had a hint of humour in it. He gave Hermione’s shoulder a little squeeze, sending shivers down her spine.

"Why didn’t you write to tell me you were coming?" Hermione asked, her voice a little less dreamy.

"I didn’t know I vos." Viktor stopped, and then moved to face her. "I kept thinking about you, and than ve had a few days off... my first impulse vos to come see you, and I followed it. I’m glad I did." He put his other hand on her free arm and pulled her slightly closer to him, but still distant enough so he could look into her eyes. "I’m glad I did."

"I’m very happy to see you too, Viktor," Hermione said hesitantly. She was happy, but it seemed to her that Viktor had some serious intentions about her. Intentions she wasn’t sure she wanted to share.

His hands slid to her waist, and he pulled her even closer. Hermione felt her feet leave the ground as he lifted her easily towards him. Before she realised what was happening, they were engaged in a long, passionate kiss. It wasn’t just him kissing her. After the first shock of his warm lips encasing her mouth in a tender, inviting manner, she willingly accepted the invitation. She kissed him back, marvelling on her new discovery of liking it.

After that first kiss, came a long pause, in which they just stood and watched each other. Hermione felt like she was seeing him for the first time. The man who kissed her like that had a new aura surrounding him. He still looked the same, but to her, he was somehow different.

She drew closer to him and kissed him again, while trying to keep their eye contact. This caused her eyes to cross, so she gave up the looking part and closed her eyes, relishing the input from all her other senses. The second kiss was just as sweet and fervent as the first one, but this time he was less gentle, and she felt her head beginning to spin. Hermione felt a need to stop for air, but he seemed prepared to continue, and she didn’t want to miss any possible second of that kiss.

Their stroll never got as far as the lake. They just stood a few hundred feet from it, at the spot where they first stopped, kissing and looking at each other alternately.

After a long hour at that, they just stood there, holding each other as tightly as they could. Hermione’s ribs groaned in protest, but she wondered if he could possibly hold any her tighter. She tried to sink wholly into his chest, and could hear his heart pounding strongly against her otherwise deafened ear.

The first tiny snowflakes of the season started drifting over their heads. These were small and light flakes of white feather-like samples of the first snow. The flakes did not wet them, nor did they penetrate their collars. They just settled gently over their hair and shoulders, and Viktor and Hermione paid them no heed.

Hermione wondered if being kissed always felt like this. This was her first experience, but somehow she had a feeling that this would have been special even if she had been kissed a thousand times before. Her thoughts drifted to the most horrible person she knew. No. There was no doubt. Being kissed by Draco Malfoy would never feel like this. Feeling a bit nauseated, she brought her thoughts back to Viktor. Back to her beloved, who was holding her tight.

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Hermione stalked towards the Gryffindor tower, careful not to make any noise that would attract either Filch or Mrs. Norris. The entire castle seemed asleep. The portraits all lay sleeping in their nightgowns and not a sound could be heard except for her own creaking shoes. If a flash of brilliance, Hermione pointed her wand towards her shoes, and made their sound as muffled as cat paws. Smiling to herself, she finally reached the portrait hall. She gently shook the fat lady, who frowned at her, but let her in anyway.

Hermione crept through the portrait hall into what she assumed would be the empty common room. She started along it, going towards the girls dormitories, when suddenly she saw something move. She let out a choked scream.

Harry jumped out of the overstuffed chair he was sitting in. He was so concentrated on trying to get the spell right, he didn’t notice Hermione coming in.

"What are you doing here?" They both asked as one.

Hermione gave Harry a meaningful look, and he blushed as understanding dawned on him.

"I’m just trying to master a spell," he said after he recovered.

"What spell?" asked Hermione. She didn’t feel very sleepy, and learning a new spell seemed much more exciting.

"Oh, just something I wanted to surprise Ginny with," muttered Harry cryptically. "It doesn’t matter anyway. I don’t seem to get it right, and I don’t want to cast on her a spell that might go wrong. She’d hate me forever."

Hermione smiled. The idea of Ginny hating Harry was absurd. She thought of the stupid grin Ginny always has when Harry was around. "Maybe I can help you with the spell," she offered. This wouldn’t be the first time she helped him. "You can try it on me, and use it on Ginny only after you get it right."

"I don’t think that’s such a good idea," Harry said, and slumped back into the chair.

"Why not?" Hermione pressed. "What spell is it anyway?"

Harry pointed at his Firebolt, slanted near the fireplace. He had one of his robes hanging on it. It seemed as if the broom was wearing one of Harry’s robes. "It’s the Cinderella spell," he said. Pointing his wand at the Firebolt, he said "vulticulus cinderella".

There was a small ‘pop’ and some white smoke rose from where the Firebolt stood. Harry’s robe was gone, and instead, there was a wonderful white gown. It wasn’t simply white. It was glowing like it was made of starlight threads. Golden brocade decorated the collar and the waist. Or at least Hermione thought it was the waist. It was hard to tell, because instead of covering the broomstick, where Harry’s robes originally where, the dress was neatly laid on the floor, two feet away from its intended bearer.

"I see what you mean," said Hermione in to most serious tone she could manage. "Maybe you trying this on me isn’t such a good idea after all." She could hold back no longer, and began howling with laughter.

Harry looked deeply insulted. "I don’t see what’s so funny," he growled. "If I use this on Ginny, she’ll kill me."

"As well she should," Hermione tittered. "Maybe you should go for another spell to impress her. Try to get flowers out of the tip of your wand, or something."

"Any muggle magician can do that!" cried Harry.

"Well, she’s of a wizarding family," argues Hermione. "She wouldn’t know that." Looking at Harry’s chagrined expression, she felt sorry for him. "Oh, maybe you should make her hair glow," she came up with something closer to Harry’s original idea.

Harry’s eyes lit up. "That’s a great idea!" he said. "And if I get it wrong, the worst that can happen is that she get her hair dishevelled. I won’t be causing her... Er... indecent exposure."

Hermione giggled. "That one I would let you try on me." She stood quietly, allowing him to concentrate.

Harry pointed his wand at her. "Niteo capillus" he whispered with intention.

At once, Hermione’s hair was freed from the bands that were holding it tied in a ragged heap close to her skull. It flowed down her shoulders in wonderful waves that were a mixture of wet earth and copper threads. Her head and shoulders were enveloped in a golden glow. Her face shone in the golden light, giving the brown of her eyes a matching golden radiance. The few freckles on her nose and cheeks became distinct against the white of her skin, and her lips looked somehow darker red against the all-consuming glimmer.

Harry looked at her, his mouth open. He didn’t expect the spell to work on the very first attempt, and even if it worked, he didn’t expect it to have this stunning effect. This was such a beautiful site. She was so beautiful.

"Harry, are you all right?"

"Eh?" said Harry. He just notices that Hermione was talking to him.

Hermione reached to him and touched his forehead. "Are you all right?" she repeated. "You feel normal. Was the effect this horrible?" she reached gingerly to her head, relieved to find that she still had hair at all. "Maybe you should stick to the flowers."

"Er... No..." said Harry in a dreamy voice. "This spell will do." He shook his head to recover. "Anyway, after the flowers you got today, I can’t possibly create a bunch that will be any competition."

Hermione was abruptly reminded of the flowers waiting for her in her dormitories. She felt a sudden craving to see that bouquet again. "Well, if you don’t need me any more, I’ll go to sleep now," she said, and hurried up the stairs, not hearing Harry whisper her name.

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As they did every morning, Harry and Ron sat in the common room and waited for Hermione and Ginny to come down, so they could all walk to breakfast together. Ron and Hermione’s lengthened silent period damaged the morning euphoria somewhat, but it didn’t break the breakfast tradition.

Harry watched lovingly as Ginny went down the stairs. She was wearing a maroon robe that matched her eyes perfectly. Although the robe had seen better days, it still flowed around her curves as if it was part of her, just meant to magnify her beauty.

Harry loved everything about Ginny. He loved her red wavy hair. He loved her smell of fresh flowers. He loved the disoriented way about her before she fully woke up. He loved to talk to her. He loved to listen to her go on and on about her studies, just like Hermione did. He loved the way she looked at him when he talked...

No, actually that part he didn’t love. As a matter of fact, he found that adoring gaze disturbing. She still looked at him the same way she did when she was eleven years old and just came to Hogwarts. That look that said, "you’re the great Harry Potter. I am but your devoted slave."

This look gave him a creepy feeling. It made him feel like he was taking advantage of her under false pretence. Well, not exactly false, he was Harry Potter, but this was not how he wanted her. He wanted her love for who he was not who he was. The whole thing was just a little too confusing. It made him hesitate so much, that it took him three months just to kiss her for the first time, and he still felt restrained about kissing her. He didn’t even dream about moving further before she could look at him differently.

As an act of chivalry, Harry let Ginny and Hermione go through the portrait hole first. Then he moved one leg over the hole and that was all he was capable of doing. His gaze became transfixed on Viktor Krum holding Hermione in a passionate kiss.

"What’s wrong?" asked Ron, trying to push his way through. He managed to squeeze between Harry and the wall, and stayed there, watching the same spectacle as Harry.

"Hello, my love," said Krum once his lips were separated from Hermione’s. "I haff vaited for you here a long time."

"I’m sorry," answered Hermione, her voice lost inside Krum’s heavy robes, in which she buried her face.

Dean Thomas’ voice came from inside the common room, breaking the charm that held Harry and Ron glued to the spot. "If you two are not enjoying yourselves too much, would you please clear out of the hole and let us out?" He sounded more than slightly amused.

Moving stiffly, Harry and Ron went out and stood with Ginny beside the newly found lovebirds. "What are you two looking at?" Ginny said, her mouth twisted in half a smile. "What did you think they were doing so late last night outside the castle? Discussing muggle protection activities? HA!" Her smile was no longer implied, and had a triumphant flare.

What was he thinking last night? Harry scolded himself. He saw what time she returned. The clock was already on "Much too late to be up". The mischievous look she had didn’t just say ‘I was out, having fun with Viktor.’ It meant she really had fun. He placed a possessive arm around Ginny’s waist, pulling her closer to him, but never taking his eyes off Hermione.

"We should guard that Krum," Ron whispered in his ear. "He’s four years older than Hermione. He’s already a man, and she is just a schoolgirl. We should make sure he’s not taking advantage of her." Harry nodded in agreement. He felt better, knowing he had his eyes on Hermione only because he needed to protect her. He released his grip on Ginny’s waist, but kept his hand in position.

Ginny felt Harry’s hand grab her. Her legs nearly turned to jelly and refused to carry her weight. Luckily, Harry was holding her tight, his grip was supporting her as they walked through the halls of Hogwarts castle. She looked at him surprised. He hardly ever put a hand on her, let alone this type of masculine gesture. She usually feared he was slightly intimidated by her.

Ginny’s face went pale when she realised who this grip really belonged to. Harry’s eyes were fixed on Hermione. He could say she was his ‘friend’ from now until doomsday, there was nothing ‘friendly’ in his hungry look. Ron whispered a few words to Harry, and his hand released the pressure on he waist. Ginny found that she was again able to walk unsupported. I’m taking this rather lightly, she thought, wondering why. I guess I’ve always known.

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The five of them entered the Great Hall together. Harry, Ron and Ginny turned towards the Gryffindor table, but stopped as they noticed that Hermione and Krum were not with them.

"I haff to sit with the Slytherins, my love," Krum said, holding both of Hermione’s hands. "Please come with me, although I vill understand if you vant to sit vid your friends."

Harry wanted Krum to take Hermione for granted. It fit the old-seducer mould so much better than this thoughtful man, begging Hermione to come with him. The look on Ron’s face suggested that he wanted to place a hard punch in the middle of Krum’s considerate face.

Hermione looked from Viktor’s warm black eyes to the three red faces of her friends. "I’ll see you in class," she muttered towards them, deciding to go with Viktor. She ignored the hissing voices when she approached the Slytherin table, hoping that their respect for Viktor would extend to include her.

Viktor stirred Hermione towards two empty seats near the head of the table. He pulled one of the chairs and waited for her to sit down. Hermione hesitated. Sitting with him by the Slytherin table was bad enough. Why did he have to pick a spot next to Malfoy? Eventually, she made up her mind. Malfoy wouldn’t dare harm her while she was with Viktor. She sat down, her head raised, ready to have a lovely breakfast even if it killed her.

Unexpectedly, breakfast went quite well. Hermione was laughing with Viktor, listening to his stories about his last Wronski Feints. He had the ability to captivate everyone within earshot from him. He also made her feel very special, shooting private smiles at her in all the high-points of his stories.

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Hermione looked so happy with Krum. Harry wondered why he wasn’t happy for her. Probably it was the fact that he just didn’t feel Krum was right for his best friend. A sharp pain pierced through his heart. Why do I feel so betrayed? he asked himself. Probably because she was sitting next to Malfoy, came the answer. She was eating toast and enjoying herself, not giving her friends a second glance. So easy it was for her to switch positions.

At least Malfoy didn’t seem to have such a good time. Harry watched him spinning a piece of toast around his index finger, not touching the food on his plate. He realised that they must look very much the same. I’m nothing like him, Harry thought, and stopped spinning his own toast. He turned towards his plate and watched the food on it, as though he wanted to out-stare it. He realised he couldn’t win a non-blinking contest with an egg yolk and got up to leave.

"Wait up!" said Ron. "I’m not that hungry either." He looked towards the Slytherins table. "You think we should tell Hermione we’re going to class?"

Harry gave him a dubious look. "She looks too busy. Come on, let’s go." He pulled Ron by the sleeve of his robe. "We could use the extra time to get ready for Potions." He gave Ginny a ‘see you later’ kiss on the cheek, and they were off.

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Hermione stopped laughing at the last description of the crashed Spanish Seeker and looked around. She took her eyes off the Gryffindor table for jut one second, and now she couldn’t find Harry any more. She couldn’t see Ron either, for that matter. She suddenly lost interest in the piece of toast she was holding, and gently put it down on her plate.

"I must go to class," she told Viktor, caressing his arm.

"Than I vill come vid you," said Viktor, knowing it was impossible.

Hermione smiled. Her mind’s image of Snape’s face once he saw her go into class with Viktor was worth a good smirk. "I’ll see you after class," she promised him with an overindulgent tone.

As Malfoy was in class with her, she looked in his direction, to see if he was going as well. What was mere curiosity on her side was interpreted as an invitation. Malfoy tossed the toast in his hand onto his untouched plate, and got up. He shot commanding looks at Goyle and Crabbe and turned to leave, knowing they would follow.

The four of them did not leave the Great Hall together. Saying that would be an overstatement. They just left the Hall at the same time, keeping a safe few feet apart. They entered the Potions Dungeon the same way.