He almost couldn't believe his eyes. He had not seen her for more than four years, though he had continued their friendly correspondence, sending letters at least once every month. So long it had been since he had last spoken to her, yet he could remember her voice, resounding clearer in his head than the Bulgarian accents of his own family. Whenever he received her responses his heart expanded beyond the limits of his chest, but just enough for him to inscribe every word, every flourish on its surface. He realized he had no reason to react so fervently - she had be so young when they last saw each other, had moved on since those few months he had resided at Hogwarts – but he had long resigned himself to the self-inflicted torment of what would never be.

And yet, as he reread the invitation for the fifth time, stopping to gaze at the magical wallet-sized photograph included within the card, he could not suppress the long buried "ifs" and "maybes" from springing up, like flowers from a burial mound.

He absently stroked a corner of the picture with his thumb, considering the image of the young woman, so different, yet so similar to the blossoming girl of fourteen he had met during his final year at Durmstrang.

His memory showed an intelligent girl, estranged from her peers by what seemed almost and obliviousness to normal adolescent frivolities – her nose fixed between the pages of a text most Seventh years would shun. He remembered how all he had to do was ask her what she was reading to see that sparkle in her cinnamon eyes, her wild chestnut hair practically crackling with electricity as she excitedly began a lecture that could last for hours on the subject of her interest. Some days he didn't even ask, just so he could watch her, half-hidden behind a pile of heavy tomes, eyes moving at an a pace barely fast enough to keep up with the whirring machinery of her exquisite mind.

In this portrait he saw the same eyes, the same unruly hair, complete with bouncing tendrils escaping from the ribbon at her nape – a futile attempt to tame it for the occasion – and the same wide, genuine smile lighting up her heart-shaped face. In the last few years she had gained a certain grace and confidence that was clearly visible in her glowing features, making her seem older than her eighteen years.

When he met her, he understood what she was so much more than the boys her own age, but that was also the line that had prevented more than the close companionship they now shared. Though never mentioned, it was evident from the very beginning: the Yule Ball, The Second Challenge, the late nights reading in the library - all formed an intimate friendship and obvious affection others would have considered more; but despite the indisputable maturity she presented, she was still a child then and honor would not allow him to press their relationship further.

Her graduation invitation, an event a mere two months away, gave him an opportunity to see her in person for the first time since the Triwizard Tournament. He knew it was simply another display of Destiny's sadistic mind – her letters had revealed a steady relationship with that temperamental red-haired imbecile since her sixth year – but he would go nevertheless. He would go just to see her, just to be near her for a little while.

Hermione entered the Great Hall, which had been decorated and arranged as a reception area for the recent graduates and their friends and family to mingle, free of the hot, heavy robes she had worn for the ceremony. Underneath she had worn a creamy yellow, cotton number more appropriate for the humid June day, and was happy to find the Hall dry and cool enough even to cause slight goose bumps to rise on her bare, sun-kissed shoulders.

She made a circuit around the open floor space with her parents, hugging dear friends and exchanging contact information, wishing her classmates the best of luck as they parted ways and thanking teachers for their dedication and patience over the years.

Slightly overwhelmed by the sheer emotion and palpable change that hung in the air, Hermione gradually removed herself from the main hub of activity, sidling over to the refreshment table for some water.

"You neffer vere very fond off crowds, Er-my-nee," came a deep, heavy-accented voice from behind her.

Even before she had completely turned to face him, she recognized who had spoken.

"Viktor!" Hermione cried joyously, while enveloping him in hug that would have crushed all ribs but those of the robust Bulgarian. "You came!"

He reciprocated her cephalopodan hug, with slightly less force, though with no less enthusiasm, playfully lifting her into the air and spinning her before gently setting her back on the ground. When her pealing laughter finally slowed, he replied softly "Off coss I came, Er-my-nee. Did you doubt it?"

Seeing his heavy brows furrow minutely, she was about to explain that she was simply happy to see him when two slim, freckled arms captured her in their wiry grip.

"What's this? I leave you alone for a minute and you've already moved on to a new man?" teased Ron from behind her and planting a chaste kiss to the top of her head.

"I'm sorry you had to find out like this, Ron," Hermione quipped with a mock apologetic expression on her face, "I was hoping to break it to you gently." She lightly swatted one of his hands, then covered it, lacing her fingers between her own.

"'Lo Viktor! Long time no see, eh? How's the Seeking?" Ron said extending his free hand.

Viktor received the gesture civilly, trying to hide his discomfort at the couple's open display of affection. "Hello Ron, it is good seeing you. The team does vell this season and hopes to return to the Vorld Cup this time."

"Brilliant! That's excellent news, last year was a bloody disappointment. We need some real competition." Releasing Hermione's shoulders, he clasped her faced between his hands and said, "I've got to leave soon, Charlie is meeting us at the Apparition point at 1:00. Are you sure you can't come?"

"We've been over this before, I have orientation for work scheduled next week!" Hermione explained, rolling her eyes in exasperation.

"Damn Ministry," Ron grumbled under his breath, "The just had to get you started right away. I'm sure the Department could have waited a few more weeks." Sighing, he bent down and surprised her with a heated goodbye kiss. "I'll miss you. See you when I get back."

Hermione nodded, recovering from the unexpected show, trying to steady her breathing and licking her swollen lips. When she turned from his retreating form, her cheeks stained prettily when she noticed Viktor rooted to the spot.

Clearing her throat she tried to maintain her composure. "Sorry Viktor, he normally isn't so…so forward." Viktor could read her embarrassment in her face and body language: her weight shifting from one foot to the other, bottom lip worried, while wringing her hands as if they were a wet towel.

"Do not vorry, I am celebrity, compared to my teammates you are positively demure." Viktor replied with false casualty, only his clenched fists and white knuckles belying the words he spoke. "You spoke off orientation next veek, this is the internship and International Magical Cooperation you wrote off?"

"Yes," Hermione responded eagerly, placated by Viktor's joke and the change of subject, "it starts next Monday, bright and early. And I still have to work at Flourish and Blott's if I'm going to eat."

Viktor chuckled at this. "Off coss! Ve vould not vant you to go hun-ger-y. Though I think ve both know the only thing you vill be devouring is books."

"It helps me keep my girlish figure," Hermione jested, placing her hands around her narrow waist playfully.

So far Viktor had successfully managed to remain focused on Hermione's face...of course, his eyes strayed to her neck or collar bones, merely because of its close proximity, and anyone would have noticed her bared arms. Now he could only mask the desire he felt as he let his vision imperceptibly fall upon her figure: the swell of her modest, pert breasts, not even revealed by the v-neck of her dress, narrowed to a tiny waist; the graceful flare of her hips was barely hidden by the subtle flow of the skirt, which covered her slender legs to the knee – even her smooth calves, meeting delicate ankles and sandal-clad feet, held the promise of something more and sent a flash of heat throughout his body.

All this Viktor observed with composed features in mere nanoseconds and replied without betraying his lascivious thoughts. "All the fiber I am sure. But perhaps you could relax your stringent diet for lunch von day this veek?"

"You'll be in London next week?" Hermione questioned, confusion written on her face.

"Most likely for the next few veeks, actually. I am representative off Bulgaria National for convention held by the International Association of Kvidditch. Ve are discossing certain regulations concerning brooms, players, enhancement potions and other sundry issues. It could take av-hile, though. Ve athletes are not renowned for our speedy resolutions – the last convention lasted almost two months, and that was only ofer Quaffle manufacturing standards."

Hermione's expression shifted from that of confusion to one of delight. "That's wonderful! – you being in London, that is. When will you be free? I have a half-hour lunch break beginning at 12:30."

"On Monday there is a business luncheon I must attend, but the rest off the veek I am free from 12:00 until 1:00. How is Tuesday?"

"It's a date! But now I think I'd better go, my parents are looking a bit overwhelmed." Hermione said.

That her parents appeared "overwhelmed" was an understatement: Mr. Granger was attempting to maintain a conversation with and enthusiastic Mr. Weasley about operation of televisions while Mrs. Granger was feigning attention, regularly gazing imploringly at Hermione, willing her to look in their direction.

Viktor's gut clenched painfully when Hermione said "date" because he knew she meant nothing by it. However, he had been disciplined throughout his education to keep his emotions under wraps and easily hid his discomfort. "I vill meet you at Flourish and Blott's, then ve vill decide where to eat. See you soon," he said, the last part accompanied by a brief hug.

"You got it," Hermione replied, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before returning to her parents.

The next thing Viktor was aware of was that he was in his hotel room, hand pressed against his cheek. He could only assume that his legs had acted automatically, though he was amazed that he had managed to Apparate without splinching himself. All he could remember was the intense burning sensation concentrated on his left cheek.