Title: Passing Notes
Author: Sare Liz
Pairing: HG/VK
Series: Firebolt Ring
Disclaimer: These characters belong to JKR, and other associated sundry corporate ones.
Warning: Rated PG-13 for some double entendre and flutterings in the stomach. It's strangely contiguous with both GoF book and movie (does this count for the heresy of syncretism?). And yet, this is possibly OOC for Viktor. Not that we have a heck of a lot to go on, but I'm betting there's more than one story behind his glowering façade.
Notes: So, this is my first sojourn in this fandom. I'm so very excited. And I have no beta, yet. Perhaps this will become very clear to you as you read on. If anyone is willing to take on that heinous task, let me know.

--

Languages were horrible things. This was especially true if you were nervous and trying to start a conversation with a pretty girl. Conversations that didn't occur in Bulgarian were particularly bad. Even in Bulgarian, though, it would be very difficult. That is why, in Viktor's opinion, languages were horrible things. And spoken language was the worst.

This is why, after three days of lurking, he decided a new strategy. There was more than one way to catch the snitch, after all.

Meet me by Muggle Studies?

The scrap of parchment floated down onto her book as he passed by her table, ostensibly going into the stacks to look for something. He'd tested this out before. If he didn't linger too long, the ones who trailed him didn't get too bold.

She found him crouched down in the nook, next to but not on the squashy chair that occupied most of the space between the bookshelves. He was fingering a likely looking book. He'd never heard of the author, but the title looked promising. Pride and Prejudice.

"Um, hi," she whispered tentatively, looking uncertain.

He smiled in response. She came. She actually came. His heart nearly skipped a beat.

Viktor indicated the chair he was next to and whispered, "Vill you sit?"

Her blush was cute, and rather encouraging. When she sat, he came out of his crouch and kneeled down, sitting back on his heels.

"Ve don't haff much time," he whispered, to start.

Her expression asked her question, and he nodded in the direction they'd both come. "The other girls," he whispered. "They are a little crazy. They vill come to find me, if I take too long. I do not vant that."

"What do you want?" she asked.

"Quiet?" he asked softly, a bit of a wistful look on his face.

"Good luck," she responded, smirking.

"Not so hard, sometimes, but harder here, in the Library. They alvays find me before I get here."

"Where don't they find you?" she inquired, seeming to be genuinely interested.

"The ship. The quidditch pitch. The forest. Sometimes before lunch, or dinner they are not around, and never in the effening." It had only taken the moonstruck girls two days to learn his schedule. He'd lost the bet. Viktor didn't think it could happen in under two weeks – oh, how wrong he'd been.

"Oh," she said. The quiet that followed was filled with Viktor Marshalling His Nerve.

"Does not alvays mean being alone, this Quiet I hope for."

"Oh?"

"No. I… Vould you go flying vith me?" God, he was desperate to impress her. He had no idea why. And flying? It really was his ace card, and maybe his only card. Was it the right place to start? …But her face was draining of color. This was not good, not good at all.

"I, um. I don't fly. Er, that is, I don't fly well…"

"Oh," he said, looking around, stunned. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. "I…"

"Yes," she said suddenly, definitively, and rather loudly. "When?"

Viktor was a little disoriented, but got his bearings quickly enough. His grin was threatening to take over his entire face. "Tomorrow? In effening? Ve fly tandem, you need no skill. Is okay."

She was smiling shyly now. "Alright. Where?"

"Em…" He was trying to think of a place that wouldn't invite instant scrutiny. "Betveen stone cabin and forest? Do you know the place I intend?"

"Behind Hagrid's hut? Yes, by the pumpkins."

"Yes, there. At eight? Can you come at eight?"

She nodded, and a strand of her hair came loose from where she'd secured it at the back of her head, sliding forward only to have her tuck it behind an ear. "I have to be back in the castle by nine to make curfew."

It felt like he was already flying.

--

Tomorrow had very quickly become today, and today's tomorrow was the day, the day they would find out who the champions were to be. If he won tomorrow, it would mean that much more leverage with Karkaroff. If he won today, he'd need all the leverage he could get.

She was muggleborn. He hadn't known, not that it made such a big difference, at least, not to him. Karkaroff was a different matter, though. The white-haired boy, Malfoy, had told him gleefully all the inflammatory things that could be said about her and the group she ran with. There was something familiar about that quartet – Malfoy, Hermione, and her two friends, but he couldn't place it. There was no reason they should be familiar, anyway. It was probably just his imagination.

Malfoy wasn't his imagination, however. He was, in fact, a giant pain in the ass, and about as moonstruck as the cows that followed him around when he went running. How he wished the entire contingent hadn't been assigned to the Slytherin table. Life would be so much more interesting if he were allowed to sit with the Gryffindors. He might not have to pass notes in the library.

He'd researched the rightness of the colloquial phrase, and had toyed with the idea of simply bending over her in the library and whispering in her ear, but wondered if it might not get him kicked out by the librarian. He settled on writing it, instead.

Are we still on for tonight?

He stalked passed her as the parchment fluttered down and wandered over to the comfortable chair, this time sinking down into it. It really was nice back here. If only it afforded a decent view of Hermione studying, it might be perfect. He crossed his legs and soon was lost in thought about exactly what he should bring for their evening, and what he might say. He'd never gone out on a date before – he'd escorted girls to balls, sure, but nothing beyond what was strictly required of him.

"You look comfortable."

Her soft voice full of irony jarred him from his musings. When he looked up, he couldn't quite tell what the expression on her face meant as she was only half looking at him, half perusing books on the shelf.

"I saw you, today. Putting your name in the goblet, I mean."

Viktor cracked his neck and uncrossed his legs, stretching them out in front of the chair.

"I saw you, too."

"I know." She looked down at the floor in front of her shoes, and he thought that perhaps she was beginning to blush again. "I mean, I think a lot of people noticed that. It was very, um, deliberate, your stare. It was like you already knew where I was in the room, and like you were trying to tell me something."

"Is true. From moment I valk into hall, I know you are there. And I do say something vith my eyes," Viktor paused, and cocked his head to the side. "But maybe I say in Bulgarian, and you do not understand?"

She giggled and ducked her head again, but Viktor found that he quite liked it when she giggled. It was a far different creature from the giggling of the cows.

"Can you not guess?"

She looked back up, bit her lip, and shook her head.

"I do not know the correct vords in English, but I vill try to explain. I look at you vhen I apply to become a champion, because of old days. In old days… in old days, a champion did not get honor for himself, or even for prince alone. There vas… another."

As he spoke, she looked up, and her eyes had gone a bit wide.

"You understand now?"

"I think so."

Just then they heard the stage whisper squeal of a discontented groupie. The pack was on the move.

Viktor sprang from the chair, but before he passed her at the shelves, he stopped. Hands lightly on her shoulders, and standing just behind her, he bent his head slightly and whispered in her ear. "Vear varm clothes, okay?"

And then he was off.

--

The library covered so many ills. Sorry, Ron, can't play chess. Yes, I know it's only the first week in November, but I gave back the time-turner, and if I'm ever to get all this studying done, I can't become complacent now. So long as she was back behind the portrait before the nine fifteen curfew, everything would be fine.

She'd put her hair in a plait, donned jeans and a wool jumper and stuffed her coat and muffler into her knapsack instead of books. And she'd put on just the teeniest amount of makeup. Not that he'd see, of course. It would be dark. But still.

Running quietly through the cloister, she stopped to listen for anyone before putting on her outer layer and shrinking her bag and stuffing it in her pocket. No magic in the halls, true, but according to Hogwarts, A History, it was only possible to tell that magic had been done in a place, not necessarily who had cast the spell. Hermione stuffed her wand back into the special pocket of her jeans before walking very calmly out into the open and beginning to make her way down to Hagrid's.

She didn't see him yet, but she might be ever so slightly early. And maybe he had hidden himself somehow, or was standing in some shadow. That was possible. He seemed quite keen on avoiding detection in the library – it probably extended out here, as well.

And then there was an odd sinking feeling in her stomach as several mental cogs all clicked into place at once. How thick was she, anyway?

The sinking feeling heralded Hermione's momentary flash of insight into her own stupidity as she walked alone, in the darkness.

She whipped out her wand as she reflected that she hadn't told anyone where she'd gone and with whom. Images from the Death Eater's post-game party flashed into her mind. She could still smell the acrid smoke of burning tents, still see the shadows flickering, teasing her that someone lurked still. She could still hear the screams of the terrified Muggles, hear herself crying out Harry's name, and having her voice bounce around the space before her, useless.

There was only a bare flicker of light at Hagrid's – probably the embers of the evening's fire, and he probably wasn't in. Would there be anyone to hear the echo of her cry this time?

Clever Hermione, oh yes. Come out to meet a handsome boy at night, but it may be the death of you.

She crouched down behind a large pumpkin and pointed her wand to her brow and chanted softly, "Occula Nocturnis." Suddenly the world got much clearer. Everything was visible, save the darkest dark of the furthest shadow.

Hermione spotted him standing in the treeline, against a large spruce with a racing broom in one hand. He seemed calm, but he was squinting in her direction, as if he thought he'd seen her, but was now not certain. She quickly scanned the rest of the area to make sure he was alone. He seemed to be.

But you never knew. Holding her wand upright next to her shoulder and the pumpkin, she spun the tip in three tight circles, chanting, "Areola Malfoy."

Hermione scanned the area again, but the only figure who revealed an aura of bad faith was herself.

She calmed slightly, and willed her heartbeat to subside into normality. Amazing, what counted as bad faith. Maybe this meant she was overreacting.

She calmed slightly. This was probably innocent. It was probably nothing. Besides, he's Bulgarian and an athlete. Just because your first date is completely secret, alone, and in the middle of no-where doesn't mean he's a Death Eater. It just means we're students. And he has groupies. And a really strange headmaster.

Holding her wand at her side she stood up and strode to him, keeping her ears open just in case.

Viktor stepped away from the tree and bowed deeply, low over the broom that he'd swept horizontal as he moved.

While he was still unable to see her, she realized her eyes would look strange to him, if he was able to make them out. Quickly, she whispered, "Finite Incantatem!" and stuffed her wand back in her pocket. The world went dark.

"Good effening, my lady. You are vell?"

"Yes. Thank you. Um. And you?"

"It is a very good night. Let us valk this vay, so our voices to not disturb." He held out his arm to her and she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. Once they had walked a little ways into the line of trees, but most importantly, away from Hagrid's hut, he spoke again.

"May I ask you a question?"

"Um, sure. What do you want to know?"

"Vhy you don't fly."

It was such an innocent question, and it left Hermione switching gears she didn't know she had. This quite suddenly felt like a date again.

She glanced up at his profile, barely discernible in the low level of light. There was a little flutter in her stomach that she filed away for future pondering. That, and the fact that she was out on her first date. She would have to owl her mother tomorrow and tell her how charming he was being.

Before getting too wrapped up in her own thoughts, however, Hermione answered his question. "Oh. That. Well, the broom doesn't listen to me," she said. Thinking about the situation, Hermione began to fully relive the pathos of that first horrible incident on the broom. "And it's so awkward. I always fall off at some point. And I just… it makes me nervous."

"It is good that I am here. My broom listens to me very vell. I am not awkvard, and I vill not let you fall off. And maybe vith me, you von't be nervous?"

Nervous? Who's nervous, Hermione thought. I'm getting remedial flying lessons from Viktor Krum, who is the first guy I've met who has spotted me as a girl. What's there to be nervous about? Sure, I'm not one of those inane girls that follow him around everywhere, but for goodness sake! I do know what a Wonky Feint is! It's a good thing he's adorable, really.

She half laughed and looked down at her hand on his arm. "I know you're a good flyer. I've seen you, you know? At the finals. You're very brave. I thought so at the time."

"Be happy you did not see me close up. I vas a mess, and not very happy myself."

Her laugh was genuine this time. "Oh, but I did see you close up. When the teams came to the Top Box – I was there."

"No." The disbelief was solid in his voice. What Hermione couldn't figure, was if he was being coy or not.

"Yes. You look much better, now. You look even better when you smile, though."

He stopped their progress and looked over to her. Hermione's eyes hadn't yet fully adjusted to the darkness again, but she wasn't sure she'd be able to read the look on his face in broad daylight. It did look like he wanted to say something, though. On that much she would bet cold hard galleons.

He didn't say anything, though, and she wondered if she should have brought up the finals at all. Bulgaria did lose, after all. It was probably entirely callous of her, and he was probably thinking of how much he regretted bringing her out here even now, and wondering how he could gracefully send her back to the castle –

Hermione's quickly spiraling thoughts were interrupted when he tugged at her arm to continue their walk and broke his silence, all at once.

"I do not alvays see so many things to smile about."

Hermione was certain that the sound of her swallowing echoed in the forest. "But I've seen you smile plenty of times, and you've only been here a week."

Viktor rumbled a sort of musing assent that made the hair on the back of her arms stand up. "Vhen you are around, yes, I smile. Here is good," he said, changing topics entirely.

He placed the broom in the air and it hung there, as if by command. Then he stood back and indicated it with his free arm.

"I vould like to introduce you to my Firebolt. It vill not throw you or fail to obey you. In fact, it vants to be your friend."

Hermione giggled despite herself. She gave a little half-wave to the broom hovering in front of her and said, "Hallo."

"Good. Next."

Viktor released her arm and mounted the broom. He had one leg curled up beneath him in what she figured was the normal riding position for a racing broom, but one foot was firmly on the ground. His hands were on his thighs.

"Come. Here," he indicated his lap. Or possibly the broom. She wasn't certain.

"Um…" How on earth she was supposed to do this she had no idea. She'd never been picked first in gym. She'd probably fall over trying to get on the thing. It was too high, for one thing.

Viktor held his hands out to her, but when she put her hands in his, he shook his head and let go of her.

"No, no. Ve do this easy, okay? Stand here. Now, turn. Yes. Oh, I see problem."

He'd finally noticed that the broom was too high, and lowered it slightly. Then he took her hands in his and waited.

Facing the other way, she couldn't see what she was supposed to be doing. This was totally awkward – he was behind her, holding her hands. His leg was still sort of in the way. Where exactly was she supposed to sit, anyway? Literally on his lap? Well, that would be sort of interesting. In the end, she hopped up in front of him, but rather far away.

Hermione could already feel herself being supported by the magic of the broom, and not just the physical two-inch diameter of the wood handle. It was like sitting on a rather small feather mattress. Much more comfortable than the old Bluebottles and Cleansweeps that the school had for training purposes.

And then Hermione felt Viktor take her waist and slide her back toward him, until she was nestled quite snugly against his larger form. It was lovely and made her feel rather gooey inside, but it was sort of odd, too. She was sitting in his lap, but she wasn't. She was sitting on the broom. It was the magic of the broom supporting her. And yet, it was Viktor's legs that were directly below her bum. She could feel both, but Viktor was definitely the stronger force.

And then she realized that she hadn't breathed in a while, and decided to do so, letting it all out in a bit of a quavery sigh. She wasn't proud of that.

And then she could feel his lips against her ear. "Firebolt holds two, but ve must be close. Is okay?"

Hermione didn't really trust her voice at this point. She nodded instead.

"Okay. Now. Leg," he said, tapping the leg that was on top of his folded one. "Like mine."

She folded her leg like his and around his. Doing so, she found that the magic of the broom supported her in this position as well. Still, if she were riding for long, she'd probably be sore, without practice.

"Good. How do you feel?"

His lips were back to her ear, and his voice was soft.

"Strangely confidant," she remarked, not entirely certain if she was speaking of her broom riding skills or not.

"This is good, very good. Now. Hold broom vith both hands. Yes, now, bend," he said, brushing his fingers over her elbows. He then took the broom himself, just above her hold, with one of his hands. They were now effectively joined from ankle to shoulder, with upper arms thrown in for free. "You hold broom, I hold you and broom. No one falls off." He wrapped his free hand around her waist, and if she wasn't cleaved to him before, she certainly was now. "Is okay?"

She nodded again.

"And vhen ve fly, both legs like this leg," he said, flexing the bent thigh beneath hers.

"Okay." Hermione decided not to spend precious brain cells on the analysis of how very breathy she sounded.

"Ready?"

Hermione swallowed, and could have sworn she heard the echo. The moment her affirmative answer was out of her mouth, they were off.

In hindsight, they hadn't been going all that fast. At the time, however, she thought that perhaps she'd left her heart behind in the dark forest somewhere.

They skimmed along in silence ten feet off the ground, following the line of trees. At the lake, Viktor veered off and glided over the water, higher up.

Hermione whined.

"Close your eyes," he murmured in her ear, "And feel the vind on your face."

She did, and slowly felt herself relax into his embrace for the first time since he pulled her back on the broom. Hermione let her head loll off to the left and rest somewhere near his chin. His arm tightened, and after a while she felt a rhythmic pulse that resonated through the layers of wool.

His heartbeat, she marveled.

--

Viktor spread his cloak on the ground and cast a warming charm on it. He then set his Firebolt on the far edge and when he had turned around to offer her his hand to help her sit, she was already sitting down, looking up at him, smiling.

Just further evidence that his life never went according to plan.

He had no idea what happened when she passed the pumpkins, but it was quite clear that something had. She'd been backlit from the dim light of the castle, but there wasn't anyone else in the area – that much he'd checked on. Maybe she tripped. He wasn't going to ask, not if she didn't bring it up first, but he did wonder.

And then, having her on his broom… For this Viktor thanked the God of his parents and grandparents. He had no idea it was going to be like that. He'd had dreams like that, except with less clothing.

Which was a crazy way to think, despite what they say about English girls at home. He wanted something more than a quick tumble. He wanted to find someone. The sort of someone you're proud to take home and introduce to your parents. The sort of someone who sees who you are beyond what you do. The sort of someone who brings out the best in you. The sort of someone for whom you are her someone, too.

Of course, he also wanted a quick tumble. Or a long series of them, with her, starting now, and pray God never ending. Oh, what a beautiful image that would be. The idea was so strong, Viktor could taste it.

He wouldn't, of course. That knowledge alone acted like cold water on his libido. Oh, but temptation was there, and her name was Hermione.

Which reminded him…

"I have request for you," he murmured in the darkness, as they sat looking out over the lake.

"Yes?"

"I teach you not to be afraid vhen flying, you teach me something also?"

"What did you have in mind?"

Oh God. She has the most delightfully suspicious look. Breathe, Viktor, breathe.

"Teach me to pronounce your name correctly."

All suspicion disappeared as she threw back her head and laughed. It was a truly joyous noise. "Sure. Which bit troubles you, Hermione or Granger?"

And now it comes to it, the really embarrassing bit.

"Granger, I haff. It is your first name I cannot create."

"Hermione?" she said, her own name slipping off her tongue. "Yes, I'm still not sure what my parents were thinking with that name. I mean, who names their children after Greek demi-gods? You have no idea what sort of teasing I got in school before Hogwarts. It was terrible. I…" she trailed off.

"Anyway. Here, I'll say it slowly. Her-my-oh-nee."

It made sense in his head. Viktor muttered to himself several times, trying to get his tongue around the word, to no avail.

She said it again, slowly, and he tried again, under his breath. And again. And yet again.

"Is no good," he said, frustrated and slightly embarrassed.

"Oh, come on," she said, touching him for the first time since they'd gotten off the broom. She wrapped her arm around his and leaned closer, into his side. His heart did a little dance. "It can't be as bad as all that."

"Is bad. Is not correct. Is not how you say."

"Try me."

Viktor was having a cross-cultural moment, he was certain. Try her? Perhaps it was his high state of hormones, but he could construe only one meaning for that phrase. And he didn't rate high the possibility that he was getting propositioned so early on in their relationship. In the end, he just asked.

"Vhat do you mean, try you?"

"I mean, just, go ahead and practice with me."

This was possibly more intimidating a prospect than realizing that she'd seen him after the finals – angry, petulant, broken, bloody, and having just lost the most important endeavor in his life. How could she respect him if he couldn't pronounce her name? She'd just laugh, and then he'd be consigned to the vapid cows and slytherin sycophants for the rest of the year.

"Viktor, it's okay," she said softly.

He looked over to her and was momentarily humbled beyond words. Viktor traced the line of her cheekbone with his eyes and breathed in.

Breathing out, he uttered her name, slowly and deliberately. It came out like rich, thick honey on his tongue.

"It's beautiful," she said with an awe he didn't fully understand. He did recognize the starry look in her eyes, however. It was the same look some of his fans got when he signed something for them. For the first time, however, it was received with joy. Still…

"Is… Is not—" But he was cut off.

"Hey. It's my name. And I give you permission to pronounce it just like that, okay? That is now one of the officially recognized pronunciations."

Viktor nodded, and contemplated a smile. Oh, he really liked her.

"Say it again?"

His hand reached out to tuck a stray lock behind her ear. His fingertips lingered where his eyes had so recently traveled, and he breathed in their closeness. "Hermione," he said, knowing perfectly well that his accent was totally mucking it up, but for the first time, not caring in the least.

Viktor stayed like that for a long moment, before breaking the tension and looking out onto the lake, his gaze steadily avoiding his ship.

"Tell me about who you are, Hermione."

She laughed and rested her head on his shoulder. "What do you want to know?"

"Who are your friends? Vhat do you like? Vhere are you from?"

And he listened. Viktor listened to the oddest tales, half told and disjointed about teeth-doctors, the boy who lived, a magical house, murderers who were innocent, professors who were nasty, incompetent, or evil, dragons, basilisks, hippogryphs, trolls, giant spiders, memorizing spell books, knowledge of the dark lord, and all tinged with hope for the future.

When his watch chimed from a pocket, he found himself disappointed, which he supposed was a very good sign. He wanted to know more.

"I guess we should be getting back then?" she said, but made no indication that she'd be willing to move, or let him do so.

Viktor breathed in the moment, strangely worried that it might not occur again. What if she didn't care? What if he didn't make a good enough impression? What if she thought he was just some strange foreigner? Oh, God, what if she already had a boyfriend? All of her other friends were boys, after all. What if she didn't realize what his intentions were?

"I vould not vant you to be late. You might not trust me to be… honorable in future. You might say no to me, next time."

Viktor's heart nearly stopped when she took her head off his shoulder. But when she spoke it was very clear that she hadn't moved far.

"Are you intending to ask me out again?"

"Depends," he said, staring resolutely at the lake. "Do you already haff boyfriend?"

Hermione snorted. "If I did, this evening wouldn't have been nearly as enjoyable as it's been. No," she clarified. "I do not have a boyfriend."

He nodded, almost to himself. That would do for this evening. He didn't have the courage or the energy to try and declare his intensions just now.

He turned his head and found that Hermione was actually quite close. If he stuck out his tongue, he'd probably hit her nose. Not that he was deeply contemplating sticking out his tongue and hitting her nose, but it was better than the alternative, which was a deep desire to kiss her.

Which was a bad idea.

No kissing on the first date. His mother would skin him alive if she knew.

"Ve should go, Hermione."

"Yes," she replied, staring back at him, unmoving.

Finally he broke her gaze and rose, holding out his hand to her as well. Putting his cloak back on and mounting his broom, he held out a hand for her and this time she mounted with much greater ease, sliding herself back to nestle into him.

Viktor had to bite back the groan. Visions of cold showers shifted to a frigid late night swim in the lake, which turned into a co-ed swim in the lake, which lead back to more groans trying to leak out. He held her tight and kicked off the ground instead, guiding the broom a little faster along the other side of the lake, making up some time so she would not be late.

Hearing once more a slightly frightened whine, he bent his head to speak softly in her ear.

"Shh. Close your eyes, Hermione, and feel the vind on your face, feel how fast your body moves through the air."

Just like last time, Viktor could feel her body relax slowly, but unlike last time, it was a short trip. Before he knew it, they were at an open door near Gryffindor tower.

Stopped and hovering, Viktor had yet to move his legs, and was incredibly satisfied to hear a mue of discontent at the apparent end of their date. Still, he let go of the broom and sat up straight. He did not, however, immediately let go of his hold around her waist. He just loosened it a bit.

"Did you enjoy the effening?" he asked quietly from behind.

Hermione turned slightly one way and then the other, apparently satisfied with neither.

"Hold on," she said, and then took his bracing arm in a deathlock with both hands and swung one leg over until she was effectively sitting across his lap, ostensibly on the broom.

For a moment he couldn't breathe. It was one thing – rather a forward thing in itself – to be riding tandem on a racing broom. It was a whole other thing for him to be fully embracing her while she was facing him, and while they both happened to be sitting on a broom. The dream actually had looked something like this.

She didn't seem to be aware of his moral quandary, however.

"Okay. It's hard to talk to you if I can't see you. Anyway," she continued, her voice softening slightly. "I did enjoy the evening. Very much," she added with a smile.

Her hands were burning marks into his bicep, he was certain.

"Did you?" she asked, actually looking uncertain. Did she really not know?

"Yes," he said at last, his eyes not leaving hers. "Very much."

Her full smile was a beautiful and infectious thing. Before he knew it, she threw her arms around his neck and gave him a rather enormous hug.

"Thank you, Viktor," she whispered in his ear before she slid off the broom and bounded into the castle.

--

Viktor watched her take out her wand and wave it over a scrap of paper that she had torn off the roll she was working on. She muttered something and it was gone.

And sliding down his book was a very familiar looking scrap of paper.

Do you like Muggle Studies, or is it just the chair?

He looked up at her and she had arched an eyebrow in challenge. It was a good thing that the cows were sitting behind him today. It gave him full leave to grin at her.

She put her wand away and placed her quill carefully to the side of her work before pushing back from the table and wandering off. He gave her a moment before going in the opposite direction, then doubling back out of sight of his following.

When he came upon her she was leaning against the arm of the chair, with a book open in her hands.

He wasn't sure if what he wanted to do was proper or not, but he decided that he might as well do it anyway. They weren't in public, really, and after holding her on his broom last night, wanting to sit this close to her seemed rather tame.

Swallowing down his doubts, Viktor went straight for the chair, despite the fact that she was already half-sitting on the arm of it, and sat down. It did indeed put them rather close to each other.

"I hafe to admit," he said quietly, "It's the chair."

She looked up and over from her book and gave him a narrowed look. He really hoped that they were playing, but he got the feeling that this might be an opportunity for him to swallow his foot.

"Does that make me a bad person?" he asked.

Hermione sighed. "No. Provided that you have nothing against Muggle Studies."

"I think studying Muggles is a good idea. Right now, Hermione, I prefer to study Muggle-born. Perhaps you help me?"

Her eyes narrowed again, but there was a small smile on her face. Viktor wondered if she knew how absolutely sinful she looked.

"What sort of help were you seeking? Research assistant? Tutor? Or perhaps a partner for practical work? What form will your final examination take?"

"Field vork, definitely. A partner vould be very useful."

"Useful?"

"How do you say? Could-not-do-vithout. Indispensable. Necessary."

"I see," she said with a gamely thoughtful look on her face. "I might be able to help you. What would I get in return? It sounds like a large time commitment on my part, you see."

Something very happy twisted in his stomach.

"Vhat do you vish for?"

"Other than world peace and freedom for house elves?"

"Yes. Other than that." She wanted freedom for house elves? Had anyone ever explained the system to her?

"Well. To be perfectly honest, I… I, um," she stammered, and looked over to the shelf. "I think I might like a boyfriend."

"Really?" he asked in a surprised tone, but softened it with a little smile. "I know a good boy for you. Tall, athletic, smart, and Bulgarian."

When she looked back to him, her smile was huge, and her giggle nearly silent. "His name wouldn't happen to be Viktor, would it?" she whispered.

"Maybe," he conceded.

"I think we're agreed, then," she said, still smiling.

Viktor looked long into her eyes and took a deep breath. Her smile faded, but her eyes widened. "This is very good, Hermione." He reached up and traced the side of her face as he had the night before. "This makes me very happy. And you?"

She inhaled deeply, and let out a shaky breath. She nodded, and replied. "Yes. I think I'm really happy about this, Viktor."

"You think? I must vork harder then."

"No that's not—Well," Hermione drawled, "If you feel you must. I won't stop you from over-achieving."

They both smiled, and both spent a long moment simply in each others quiet company.

"And now, ve go study."

"Yeah," she said happily, popping off the arm of the chair and replacing the book on the lowest shelf. Viktor couldn't help but think that the view was just beautiful.

And now, his.

--

Hermione,

We have not spoken in several days. I see you around the castle, in the library, but always Harry is with you now. I do not know if it is alright for me to approach, or pass you notes, and I do not wish to do the wrong thing. I look to my partner to instruct me.

Karkaroff watches very closely now, as well. A difficult situation I wish to tell you about. Can you meet before lunch? Greenhouse 2 is empty then.

Viktor

Hermione folded up the note with a sense of relief that was palpable. She pet the owl and sent it off, shaking her head at Harry. "A note from Mum. I thought that maybe something was wrong, but…" she stopped, glanced over to the Slytherin table where a pair of intense, dark eyes were tracking her. A relieved smile broke over her face as she held his gaze and finished her comment to her friend sitting next to her.

"But everything's just fine."

--

...to be continued...