Title: Fade Away

Author: AishiteSubete

Rating: T

Summary: Hermion has rejected Viktor for Ron. Even after the defeat of Voldemort, Viktor is still coping with his feelings of loss and despair. Prompt: "disappear."

Viktor's POV

I fiddled with Snitch-shaped necklace I wore, sitting in a booth at the Leaky Cauldron. It had been years-countless years, as far as I was concerned-since the defeat of You-Know-Who, and this old pub still relaxed me even more than a nice fly around the London skyline did. I never knew why this was, though-it wasn't as though I spent too much time here. I had only been here once in my entire life-to be quite frank with myself, I barely remember the day I had first visited the Leaky Cauldron.

Then she walked in the door, and I remembered.

It was Hermione Granger-well, Hermione Weasley, now. I felt my hands unconsciously tighten around the glass of firewhiskey I had been steadily drinking all night. Hermione was the girl who had brought me to the Leaky Cauldron the first time. It was the year of the Triwizard Tournament, on our Christmas holiday, that I had learned about this pub was because of her.

I saw her sitting in the booth with her husband (I thought the word with such malice that I was taken aback) and the Potter couple-Harry and Ginny. It surprised me to see Potter with the Weasley girl, since the last time I had seen him, he was with that Patil lady. I suppose things change after so many year.

Yes, they do, I thought as I looked at Hermione. She looked even lovelier than she had years ago, and I felt my heart sear with envy and jealousy. Why did that Weasely wretch get to be the man lucky enough to be with her? I had so much more than he-I was a professional Quidditch player. I made millions of Galleons a year, and I could provide for her much better than Weasely-I wasn't some intern at the Auror office. I internally scoffed as I watched her touch his shoulder intimately, and I watched him lean his forehead against hers as they laughed at a joke that Potter had just told.

In one split second, her eyes met mine. They flashed with recognition and heartbreak. I watched her breath hitch, and I duly noted that I had done the same thing. In a flash, I stood from my seat, threw some Galleons and Sickles on the table, and dashed out the door, telling a little waiter witch I passed that I had left my payment at the table. As I passed the large window looking into the pub, I saw Hermione rise from her seat, and dash after me.

She cornered me in a dark alley-a shortcut to Knockturn Alley, to be precise-and grabbed the long scarf I had been wearing. "Oi!" I grunted as I braced myself against the side of a building. "What the bloody hell?"

"Why did you run out like that?" Hermione whispered. "You took one look at me, and you left. Why?"

I bit my lip, staring her down, trying not to lose my balance; even after all these years, she still made me weak in the knees. "Because," I began lamely, "I still love you."

Hermione looked at me with a look of what appeared to be surprise and disbelief. "What...?" She placed her hands on either side of my face; it felt so good, a touch I missed. "Viktor...why didn't you just-just tell me?"

Then she leaned in, her lips meeting my with fervor. She was sweeter than any candy from Honeydukes, sweeter than absolutely anything I had ever tasted. But then it hit me how bittersweet the moment was as I stood there, stunned, as she claimed my lips as her own. She was unfaithful. This was...it was adultery. I shoved her away from me. I couldn't do it.

Her eyes burned with anger, hurt, and outrage, as she looked at me in surprise. "Viktor...why?" It was the second time she had asked me that today. I couldn't answer her; so I ran. I ran as far away from her as I could. Now, I didn't even care if I faded into nothing.

I just didn't care anymore.

Hermione POV

I met up with Viktor Krum, my foreign Hogwarts sweetheart last night.

Well, things didn't go as well as I had expected-or wanted-them to. I had expected him to accept me with open arms, to embrace me like he used to when we were teenagers. I had never expected him to tell me that he loved me, then turn and run. It was uncharacteristic of him, and it wasn't what I had wanted from him, either.

"Hermione." I watched as my husband, Ron Weasely, walked into the kitchen, entirely engrossed in the copy of the Daily Prophet he was reading. "Did you hear about the news?"

"What news, love?" I inquired gently as he took a seat, still staring at the printed paper. He quickly removed it from his face, and passed it over the breakfast food to me.

"About Viktor Krum," he said as I took it from him. My heart stopped beating for a second, and I stopped breathing. On the front page, above a picture of the famous Quidditch player zooming in the skies at the latest World Cup, was the headline "Viktor Krum: Dead." I stared at it, aghast, as I continued reading it. It was a suicide; he had been killed with the Avada Kedavra curse-experts had discovered that the curse was fired from his own wand. On his bedside table, close to where he had committed the act, laid a single piece of paper, with two words scrawled on it in frantic handwriting: "I'm sorry."

He knew I would understand what it meant.