January: Home Again

When Viktor and Hermione returned home from Christmas in Bulgaria there was a stack of post waiting for them. Viktor sorted it into two piles while Hermione made tea. She handed him a cup and he handed her the letters. They retired to the parlor to read their mail. After a few minutes, Viktor said, "Ah, we should do this."

"What?" Hermione asked.

"Quidditch Illustrated wants to do a cover story on us."

She arched an eyebrow at him.

"I know," he said. "But this is an opportunity to present ourselves in a different light from the one Witch Weekly always casts."

Hermione let out a soft snort. "What makes you think it will be different?"

"The Quidditch community loves us," Viktor said.

She quirked her lips at him. "What sort of article?"

"Quidditch's new power couple at home."

Hermione laughed. "Power couple? They actually called us that?"

"What else would you call us?" Viktor said.

She raised her eyebrows. "Well…I mean…" She shook her head. "At home though?"

He handed her the letter. "They want to do a formal cover but then with more casual shots inside. I think this would be good. It will let us be…how do you say it? Regular for people."

"Normalized," Hermione said. "You think if people see us at home they'll be less likely to call me a slag in letters to Witch Weekly." She let out a soft snort. "I think that's highly optimistic."

"Perhaps, but it would also be good for me to be seen as…"

"Less foreign?" Hermione guessed.

He nodded. "That would be good, I think."

She sighed. "Fine. If it matters that much to you, write them, and tell them we'll do it."

He smiled. "Thank you. You will not regret this."

"If you say so." She waved him away. He hurried off to find a quill and ink.

xXx

A few days later, Hermione found herself in a photographer's studio off Diagon Alley back in the blood red dress she'd worn to the International Quidditch Association gala. Viktor stood beside her in his navy dress robes. The photographer had them each hold their awards magically floating just above their palms. He had them stand in various poses. Before agreeing to let the article run, Hermione had insisted on right of refusal for the photographs. Quidditch Illustrated had agreed and so they had proceeded. While the main photographer changed film, Viktor and Hermione took a break.

He whispered in her ear, "The slit in that dress is driving me mad and I didn't get to take it off you properly last time." She suppressed a giggle. He kissed her bare shoulder. "Why won't all these people go away?"

"They work here," she said, smiling.

"Ah, a pity," he murmured against her ear.

"That's got it," the photographer called. They resumed going through the requested poses.

An hour later, they Apparated back to Viktor's flat. "I'm glad that's over," Hermione said.

"Yes," Viktor said, reaching for her. He scooped her up and started for the bedroom. She laughed.

xXx

Two days later at noon, they were in the kitchen making lunch. Viktor was frying bacon for sandwiches and Hermione was magically slicing apples. There was a knock on the door. "I'll get it," he said. "Watch the bacon."

She was pulling the cooked slices from the pan when she heard Viktor talking to someone. As she assembled the sandwiches, Viktor appeared at the bar between the kitchen and the parlor. From the doorway to the hallway she heard the click of a camera and her eyes widened at Viktor. He smiled apologetically.

"Hello," the photographer said. "Remember me? I'm Paul. We met at the studio the other day."

"Hello," Hermione said turning around. She glanced back at Viktor.

"Is something wrong?" Paul asked.

"You just took my picture," Hermione said.

"Yes. I couldn't help it. That's just the sort of thing we want."

Hermione frowned at Viktor. "A little warning would've been nice."

"No, no," Paul said. "I didn't want warning. I wanted the truth." He smiled at her. "And the truth is, the great war hero eats bacon sandwiches that she makes herself just like everyone else. And she does it barefoot in jeans and a flannel shirt." He nodded. "That's compelling stuff."

"Is it though?" Hermione said grimly. "Besides, this article wasn't meant to be about the war."

"And it won't be." Paul set his camera down on the kitchen counter. "Look, I know you've been treated shabbily by the press for a while now. You both have, but I'm not interested in gotcha journalism and neither are our readers. They like Quidditch and they like Quidditch players and they like to see them as regular people not just as amazing athletes flying around on brooms most people can't afford and couldn't stay on if they could afford them."

"I'm not a Quidditch player," Hermione said. "You should be taking pictures of Viktor at home. He cooked the bacon anyway. There's your truth. I was just cutting up apples."

Paul nodded. "Oh, I will be taking pictures of Mr. Krum but I hear you. Still that Quidditch Pitch Cushion has been a wonderful addition to the game. Our readers care about the safety of the players and you've made the game loads safer. Besides, Miss Granger, everyone knows who you are. You're news no matter what you're doing."

"Even when I'm putting together a bacon sandwich," she scoffed.

"Especially then, at least for this kind of article."

She sighed. "Fine. Would you like some lunch?"

Paul grinned broadly. "That'd be grand."

Hermione flicked her wand and the rest of the bread and bacon assembled into sandwiches, which she set on a tray with the apple slices, and took it to the table, while Viktor got pumpkin juice for everyone. They all took their seats. Paul asked about Viktor's charity work and Viktor was happy to explain all about it. Hermione sat quietly picking at her sandwich. Eventually, she excused herself and went out on to the balcony to smoke a cigarette and continue reading the book she'd been enjoying earlier. She had her toes up on the balcony railing and was scrunched down in the chair with her braid over her shoulder when she heard the camera click again. She sighed and sat up.

"You don't have to do that," Paul said.

"I thought you and Viktor were talking."

"We were. He went to the lav. I thought I'd see what you were doing."

"I'm just reading."

"I can see that."

"But you took a photo anyway," Hermione said scowling.

"Because presumably you read at home on the balcony a lot."

"Why a lot? Maybe this is the first time I've ever done this," she protested.

"It's January," Paul said. "It hardly seems like the time of year you'd suddenly chose to read outside."

"I cast a warming charm," she said.

He stepped toward her and into the charm. "Impressive."

She snorted. "Anyone can cast a warming charm."

"Not one this complex." He touched the hand rail of the balcony. "The railing is warm enough for bare feet but the air is cool enough to be in jeans and a flannel shirt."

She frowned at him.

"You have the lean look of a power user, and since I've been here, you've effortlessly cast charms that most people would never bother with. You use magic constantly, subconsciously, no wonder you were such an asset to Harry Potter."

Hermione stood.

Paul held up his palms. "Don't misunderstand me. None of that is going in the article. This is about Quidditch, not the war, not the Golden Trio. It was just an observation. I'm sorry. I'm a little bit in awe being around you. It's making me talk too much."

"Don't be ridiculous," she snapped. "You've got one of the greatest Quidditch players in the last century in there. Go be in awe of him."

Paul nodded. "Of course. I'm sorry."

She glared at him and picked up her book again.

Paul spent the rest of the day with them, chatting about their lives, mostly with Viktor, occasionally snapping a photo, but in general being pleasant and easy to be around. He didn't mention the war or the Golden Trio again.

In the end, Hermione approved the article and the photos, most of which were blissfully of Viktor: trimming a broom, reading, running along the Thames, but the ones of her in the kitchen and reading on the balcony made it in as well, along with a shot of the two of them playfully chatting while the main photographer changed film. The article was about their lives now, only a cursory reference was made to her role in the war, or his former team, other than that everything was current and that pleased her immensely.