idea_of_sarcasm (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
idea_of_sarcasm) wrote2007-04-06 01:32 am
idea_of_sarcasm) wrote2007-04-06 01:32 am
Entry tags:
After All This Time Viktor/Hermione *adult*
The only thing I've written in the past few months - and it was for a smutty fic exchange. My recipient asked for a vanilla, relatively fluffy, smut fic (among a few other specifics) - and that she did get. For my reference, original post here in ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hp_springsmut - the reveals were done today, and there were quite a few good pieces this year, although not in pairings I usually read.
Title:After All This Time
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
idea_of_sarcasm
Rating: Adult
Pairing(s): Hermione/Viktor
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: She hadn't seen him in years, although it wasn't entirely by choice.
Author's Notes: Written for [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] for thehp_springsmut exchange.
"This is not my idea of a good time Ron," Hermione told him crossly, even as she leaned across the expanse of her desk to take the ticket he was insistently offering. She hadn't bothered to get up when he entered, knowing he was going to try and talk her into this. Her office at the Ministry was large enough Ron could stand unhindered, but like a man who had never quite become adjusted to his height, he stood relatively hunched over. "Why on earth you think it's a good idea to take me to the Cannons game with you is beyond my understanding."
"I don't want to go by myself, and Harry's committed to do Merlin knows what with Luna," Ron complained, giving up on looking official standing in front her desk, and flopped down on the chair in front of it. She watched him eye almost suspiciously, like he always did, the multiple stacks of parchment that lined the top of her desk. Hermione didn't think she had seen the wood of the desktop in two years, but Ron didn't have to look so appalled at the actual work she had to do.
"And," he continued, obviously holding himself back from propping his feet up, "I have to go, it's part of my job."
Having ascended the ranks quickly, Ron had managed to secure himself the position of deputy director of the department of magical games and sports after giving up on his pro Quidditch career. As far as Hermione could tell, he didn't have to do much outside of give an occasional seal of approval on a new Quidditch team starting, or the format and location of the World Cup. For all that he made the desk job out to be a chore, when he would rather be playing Quidditch, Hermione knew it was nothing in comparison to the work she had been doing for the Department of International Magic Cooperation. She liked to think she had got the job on her own merits, rather than someone who's father had greased their path at the Ministry
Leaning back in her own chair, Hermione fiddled with her quill. "Funny how that's a responsibility you never seem to delegate," she remarked dryly, running her fingers through the white feather of the writing instrument. "And what, your sister and multitude of brothers aren't interested in going?"
"They have work," Ron responded, oblivious to the pointed look she shot at her paperwork, until she coughed and indicated the multitude of papers spread across her desk. "Yes, fine, I get it – you're busy. But that's all the more reason you should come with me Hermione. You live at this bloody place, and you need to get out more. The department will survive an evening without you."
Hermione sighed, knowing she had conceded the point the moment she had taken the ticket from him. "If you had really been worried about me 'getting out'," she responded, glancing at him pointedly, "you would have come to that opera performance last month when I asked you. Instead, I had to let Perkins and his insipid wife take the tickets – although I don't think that woman knows the difference between an aria and recitative singing."
"That was different," he answered with a wave of his hand.
"How so?" Hermione raised her eyebrows, half knowing the answer even as she asked the perfect set up question
Ron grinned, even as he pushed himself to his feet, "Because I didn't want to go."
She could feel herself breaking into a smile, shaking her head in mock disgust. "And you wonder why we broke up after only a few months. I think it's astounding we lasted that long. But yes, I'm capable of being a better friend than you were ever a boyfriend. Providing of course, that you get out of my office so I can get some actual work done in order to have the time to take off to watch a silly game."
"That means you'll come?" Ron asked hopefully.
"Yes, Ronald," she rolled her eyes at his ability to state the obvious. "That means I'll come."
*************************************
"Cold?" Ron's off-hand question was filled with about as much concern as she had shown when she had asked how the Cannons were doing that year. Hermione had to wonder what was his first clue was, the chattering of her teeth, or the shivering as she huddled up against him. She didn't quite understand why the corporate seats allotted to the Ministry couldn't have been in some sort of private box.
"Just a little," she lied with a roll of her eyes, even as she drew her wand to cast a heating spell around them. Of course that act drew dirty looks from the other fans seated around them – which she didn't quite understand. Did they enjoy sitting there in the cold when they had the easy ability to warm themselves with magic? The lack of warm jackets she could understand even if she thought it was stupid, considering they wanted to show off their Cannons paraphernalia, but sitting there freezing made no sense.
Hermione tightened her jacket, pulling the neck flap up as high as it would go. "Who's playing today?" she asked as she shoved her hands into the pockets.
"The Vratsa Vultures are in town," he replied, even as the teams began to fly onto the pitch. Ron went on to explain that they were primarily the reason he was here, some deal with a meeting their general manager had requested regarding changing the regulation size of the hoops used for scoring, but Hermione had tuned him out the moment after he had mentioned the teams name.
From where they were sitting it was impossible to tell the individual faces of the players, but she knew he was there. Even she, who hadn't watched a Quidditch match since Ron's brief stint with the Kestrals, knew he played for the Vultures. It didn't take the voice over the speaker system to let her know that the infamous Viktor Krum – seeker and captain – had just taken the field.
Her hands clenched in her pockets, fisting the material, but outwardly she was calm. After all, when one looked at it logically, seeing him again shouldn't really bother her. Seeing him from afar shouldn't affect her in the slightest. Despite what her brain told her, that didn't stop her breath from catching when his face was spelled onto the board used for advertisements. It lasted only a moment, his endorsement of the new Nimbus 3000 broom, but her eyes were glued to it anyway. And it didn't stop her from tracking him as the players took their places, ready to begin the game.
"Oi, Hermione," Ron tried to get her attention, but his focus was drawn away when the match began to start.
*************************************
The majority of the match had passed in a blur. It had probably been best that the Vultures had beaten the Cannons efficiently. It hadn't been that lopsided a victory, but that was because the Bulgarian team had been too kind to rack up the score, even before the snitch had been caught. It had been a given to the rest of the team that Krum would catch the snitch before Galvin Gudgeon, the hopeless seeker for the Cannons, and they hadn't wanted to embarrass the home team.
For Hermione's part, she wouldn't have noticed if the Cannons had never scored a point. Her eyes had only been for Viktor, a fact which would have amused Ron if he had been astute enough to notice. As it was, he had just thought that she was finally discovering a love for the game of Quidditch, although why he would even contemplate that as an option after all these years was beyond her.
She hadn't seen Viktor in years. Well, tucked in a drawer at home, she had his 'famous wizard' card, but that didn't count even if she allowed herself the luxury of looking at it. Viktor had sent it to her himself as a self-deprecating joke, in one of this letters, during her first month of her searching for the horcrux's with the boys. Her correspondence with him had been a bit of a guilty pleasure, a term which simplified the risk she was taking. But it had been a luxury she and Ron had afforded themselves, on person with whom they could confide in. One person to give them a link to real life, and know they were still alive. She had chosen Viktor, knowing her parents wouldn't understand what she was doing – while Ron had kept in touch with his brother in Romania, knowing he could keep things from the rest of the family. Harry of course had had the option as well, but there had been nobody he had wanted to write to, considering he refused to endanger Ginny, and he had stopped pretending any familial affection for the Dursley's long before.
It never failed to amuse her, in a cruel kind of way, that they had managed to keep in touch through a bloody war, and two months after he had stopped writing. No warning, no explanation, just nothing. Of course she hadn't pressed the issue and tried to demand a reason, but after three of her letters had gone unanswered she had given up, pretending it didn't matter.
Which, of course, it did.
Not just because she had been rather enamored of him since the Yule Ball, despite not seeing him except in pictures since, but because through letters they had built a deeper friendship than she had with anyone save possibly Harry and Ron, and she didn't talk about half so many things with the boys. Of course he had probably humoured her during the war, keeping in touch because he felt he should, but she liked to believe it was more. It would have helped – well, not helped, but made her feel better about herself – if she had been able to pretend he had been grievously injured or killed somehow, but considering his face was splashed across most periodicals when she entered the bookstore, she didn't even have that luxury.
It had been a few years, and it wasn't like she had been pining all this time, despite her occasional thought of 'what might have been' and the fact she kept his picture. That, however, didn't make her any more eager to accompany Ron into the Vultures changing room where he was going to meet their general manager so he could placate the man by blatantly lying about a rule change to the regulation size of the hoops being considered.
"Most girls would be beating down the door to get a chance inside the hallowed area of the changing room," he muttered grumpily, still trying to convince her to come with him.
"Most blokes wouldn't be forcing the issue like this," Hermione retorted, grabbing her wand to transfigure herself a chair outside of the door. Plopping down, she motioned towards the entrance. "Now, get inside so we can go home, or I'm using the portkey without you. The lack of my presence will not hinder your ability to hold the meeting, or to catch Angelina Johnson in her knickers which we all know is your real intention since you won't let this meeting wait until after."
Ron was relegated to an annoyed, "Shut up," as he entered the building, rolling his eyes at her as he shut the door to the Vultures dressing room behind him. The security guard who was guarding the entranceway, despite discreetly pretending not to eavesdrop, cracked a smile before returning his face to its normal impassive form.
Content to wait, especially since it meant she wouldn't have to risk running into Viktor, Hermione pulled out a book she had shrunk to stick in her bag, returning it to it's normal size so she would have something to read while she waited. From experience she knew Ron would be awhile – sticking around to discuss the good old Quidditch days with the players, despite having only one professional season as a second-string player under his belt. For him, although they were all technically former colleagues, talking to the players still brought on an annoying amount of hero worship, another reason she was more than happy to maintain her post outside.
Hermione had just gotten to the best part of her book – the chapter on the intricacies of trade standards regarding French cauldrons – when the door opened and a shadow was cast over her page. Flipping it shut quickly, she shrunk it down and stuck it back in her bag, throwing the bag over her shoulders – more than willing to take advantage of whatever stroke of luck had brought Ron out of there in less than an hour.
Of course she wasn't expecting to come face to face with the Bulgarian seeker himself, seemingly struck dumb by her presence.
"Viktor!" she exclaimed, unable to come up with anything more expressive than his name.
Merlin, he looked good. He wasn't supposed to look this good. He was supposed to look older, and preferably fat, maybe a few crooked features from multiple broken bones. But if anything he looked better than his publicity images, and certainly better than he had the last time she had seen him in person. He had lost the callowness of his youth a long time ago, and his features had filled out nicely with maturity. And, like all good Quidditch players, his body was in top physical form.
Not that she was looking of course.
"Hermione," Viktor sounded as surprised to see her as she was to find him as the one coming out of the locker room. She had been under the impression the team members typically portkeyed together out of the locker room to their next game location. Hermione was slightly surprised by the way he said her name – not because it was odd, but because it was actually correct. Said in a Bulgarian accent of course, but close to correct. Apparently time apart had taught him her name in a way her patient (and not so patient) lessons in the library at Hogwarts never had.
Shaking his head, he still looked confused as much as shocked, "You come to see Quidditch? I not be expecting that. Effer. You," he paused before continuing, staring intently at her, "you not be vaiting for me?"
"No," she declared, possibly a little too adamantly. "I wasn't waiting for you. I was just waiting for someone else – a friend of mine had a meeting with your general manager. That is the only reason I am here, both for the game and now." She was very careful to clarify that point.
She could have sworn she saw disappointment cross Viktor's face, before he glanced back to the door that had closed behind him, understanding seeming to dawn. "Veasley," he almost seemed to darken at the name, which confused her. While Ron made for a horrific boyfriend, he was usually affable with other men – at least those who weren't blonde haired prats – and his name didn't usually inspire that reaction.
"He not being long," Viktor replied shortly, hefting his bag over his shoulder as he turned to go. "Meeting soon be done, and players be gone. He vill be returning soon."
Like his sudden discontinuation of the letters, his reaction made little sense to Hermione. Even if she was only a relative stranger, she deserved some polite chit-chat. At the very least a few 'how are you's?' before he made his excuses. Whatever she had done, or rather he had thought she had done, to offend him, especially this long after the fact, confused her. To her knowledge she had done nothing, and for once she was willing to demand answers so she could know at least what grudge he was carrying.
"Viktor…." she spoke his name, reaching out to grab him as he began to walk away, but was paused by the actual exit of Ron from the building.
"Your boyfriend, he being here now," Viktor replied, removing her hand from his arm gently.
Hermione was shocked by his reaction. Not so much that he assumed things about her and Ron – others had done that before, but that he seemed genuinely upset as he ground out the words. "Ron's not my boyfriend," she replied vehemently. "We are friends. That's it, friends." Not that the clarification should really mean anything. Ron seemed surprised by the exchange, but tried to not to let it infuse any awkwardness into the situation.
"Viktor, it's nice to…." He tried to get a word in edgewise, and do the polite greeting, but Viktor cut him off.
"You not be dating him?" the words came out rougher than she expected as Viktor looked back and forth between the two of them, gesturing vaguely at Ron with his hand, setting the heavy bag with his equipment down on the ground beside him as he waited for the answer.
She shook her head. "Merlin, no, of course not" Hermione replied firmly, sounding appalled – even as she completely ignored Ron's indignant, "Hey!", at her statement. "I'm not seeing Ron." Shaking her head, she added quietly, "I'm not seeing anyone." Clarifying that detail shouldn't seem so important, but she was careful to add it on anyway. It was likely nothing that mattered; even if he wasn't so seemingly annoyed with her, he was Viktor Krum, and likely had a bevy of girls warming his bed. Quidditch groupies, they were all slags she was sure.
Viktor glanced back and forth between her and Ron, the frown on his face confusing her. Ron, mercifully for once in his life, was silent. It was likely mostly due to the fact that, like her, he had no idea what was going on. Well, she at least had a partial idea. She was implying to Viktor that she was still available if he wanted her, despite the fact he really didn't deserve the time of day. But what was going on with respect to him, she was as in the dark as Ron.
Casting one last look at Ron, Viktor asked abruptly. "Vould you be liking to have dinner vith me?"
"Well, I'm afraid I have plans...." Ron began with a smirk, breaking off when Hermione stepped over and cuffed him on the arm.
"Yes, I'd like that," she replied firmly, seemingly surprising both Viktor and him with her answer.
*************************************
Hermione didn't know what she had been expecting when she had accepted his offer of dinner, but a lavish French restaurant in the middle of wizarding London certainly hadn't been it. This wasn't Viktor – at least not the Viktor she had known. When the waiter brought them their menus, she glanced around uncomfortably. People were staring, some with open curiosity, some just sneaking glances as they ate their meal. She had dealt with excessive curiosity in her lifetime – after all she had helped defeat Voldemort – but that had faded long ago, and Hermione knew that they weren't looking because of her. Well, only as an extension of the fact that she was dining with a handsome and popular Quidditch star.
Although she would have much preferred a smaller and out of the way restaurant, Hermione didn't comment, flipping open her menu with what she hoped was a serene smile. It was hard to be casual when it felt like every eye in the place was on you.
But that paranoia was broken, and replaced with a new one, when she saw a blinding flash, and heard the telltale click of the camera. She noticed Viktor smiling politely off to their right, and glanced over to see a newspaper photographer – at least she could only assume that's who it was – taking their picture, smirking when she glared at him, before he was escorted to the front door by the manager, seemingly unconcerned since he had got what he had come for.
"How do you get used to it?" she asked Viktor, turning back to him when the other man was shoved forcibly out of the restaurant. "The attention, the accolades, and most importantly – people following you around, determined to capture every moment of your life on camera."
He seemed less perturbed than she would have expected, shrugging lightly at her statement. If she hadn't known better Hermione would have thought she caught a slight gleam of satisfaction in his gaze. Why, she didn't know. She was none too excited to have the picture of the two of them splayed across every gossip rag, and she would think Viktor would be even less inclined to be happy about it, even if this was commonplace to him in a way it wasn't for her.
When the waiter departed, wine order placed, she straightened slightly in her chair. "It's been a long time," Hermione told him, stating the obvious. "I wasn't expecting to see you again – at least without it being in a broom advertisement or on a notice for the next Quidditch world cup.
Viktor looked slightly embarrassed at the mention of his publicity work, but just shrugged in response. "It be required of us, to be making ourselves available for public. But for the new Nimbus, that I be doing for the money. I buy new house, and be needing some for renovations, and the changes I be vanting made." He flipped open his own menu, glancing away from her as he examined it. Hermione stared at him for a moment, but went back to perusing her own, trying to remember her rudimentary French in order to decipher the dishes listed before her.
There was no acknowledgement of the real meaning of her statement. Hermione knew why she had made the observation, trying to prod him into mentioning why he had stopped all correspondence with her, but he hadn't taken the bait. Her mind was hardly on the food when she chose the 'suamon avec beurre blanc', the French she remembered enough to assure her that it was a safe choice, and she wouldn't be getting some odd creature served to her on a plate.
They sat silently until the waiter approached, taking their order before disappearing casually, taking the menus with him and leaving the wine. Not caring she might look like a lush, Hermione took a large sip of the glass he had poured her. She wasn't quite sure why she had agreed to this dinner. Yes, she liked Viktor, and she didn't think he had altered his personality over the years to change that. And yes, he was still as bloody handsome as ever, perhaps even more so since growing into his looks. But the downside was, he didn't seem to be paying much attention to the fact she was even there.
The Viktor she had used to know was always attentive. Hesitant, yes – not used to conversing in English, as it wasn't his native tongue – but never neglecting her or being hurtful. The man across from her had evolved from the boy that had spent countless hours with her in the library. He had grown up from the boy who had taken her to her first dance, and had been there for her through some of the worst times of her life, even if just through the written word. But against the logic of that, the man across from her was making her feel uncomfortable, and she felt like she barely knew him anymore.
Her resolve not to make an issue of it broke when he simply sat there, taking a sip of his wine and examining her, without saying a single word. "Why did you stop writing me?" she demanded, not noticing that her voice carried, and any patrons at tables in the near vicinity had stopped eating to listen, considering they had been paying attention to the drama as it was. She couldn't even blame the demand on the wine, having had only a few sips. But it was the question that had been plaguing her for a long time.
Viktor glanced around, used to attempting to keep his personal business just that – personal. Which she was rather shooting out of the water right now. "Do ve need to be discussing this ?" he asked, leaning forward to keep his words quiet. He couldn't have looked more suspicious to onlookers if he had tried.
"Yes," she replied firmly, taking another sip of the wine for courage before placing the glass carefully on the table, "we do. Because I can't just go on this evening pretending that it doesn't matter. Really Viktor, that isn't going to work for me." He seemed uncomfortable, not surprisingly, but Hermione pressed on. "Do you have any idea how much that hurt me, when you never returned any of my letters after the end of the war? Did you even take that part into consideration?" She leaned forward herself, resting her elbows on the table. "You were one of my closest friends, I depended on you in my time of need, and then…….nothing. Just, nothing. And, despite racking my brain for hours, I came up with nothing I had done wrong!"
She had at least meant to save this subject for dessert, before confronting him, but had found she couldn't pretend for even a meal that she just didn't care. She sat there, resisting the urge to lean back in her chair and cross her arms across her chest, as she watched Viktor struggle to think before he spoke. "Veasley," he finally ground out, looking at the silverware, the table, the people around them – anywhere but at her – before clarifying simply, "Ron."
Of all the things that could have confused her the most, that answer was probably the one that did it – outside of him blaming Harry. "Okay," she began, resting her hands on the table, "I'm confused. Are you blaming Ron for your inability to write me? I know he is a horrible correspondent, but I don't know what that has to do with you not continuing to send letters. Or, at least why you didn't send a bloody explanation as to why you were essentially disowning me as a friend."
Viktor sighed, seeming to deflate slightly, shaking his head as he continued. "Ron, he being the reason I do not send letters. No, that not quite be truth. I not be sending the letters because of you not be answering all of mine. How do you not be thinking that be easy for me? You not respond to letter that vas very hard for me to have sending, and pretending it did not be happening. That be vhy I not send any more."
Her hand stilled from where it had been playing with the silverware, waiting for him to reply. "What letter?" Hermione asked suspiciously – at a loss for why he had those concerns. She had read every letter she had ever received from Viktor, and treasured them all. And there had been nothing in them that she had ever tried to side-step.
Viktor began to look a little irritated, but he kept his voice soft, knowing the diners around them were watching with interest. "The one vhere I be telling you that I vould like to see you. The one vhere I be admitting that I be attracted to you still, and hoping you vould be villing to perhaps be visiting me? The one that you be ignoring, until I be hearing in the trashy news that you have started to seeing the Veasley. That vould be the one I be meaning. Your letters after that, they not say saying a thing, not even a small explanation."
Her heart stopped at his admission. "I never received any letter like that Viktor," she replied earnestly, leaning forward on the table, so her face was approaching his. "I would have never been so callous about it, at the very least." She took a deep breath, catching his eye and not looking away. "But," she began gently, taking his hand in hers without allowing him to pull away, as at this point she had nothing left to lose, "if I had received a letter like that, I would have responded....favourably."
When she had started dating Ron, short time though it was, she had done it with the impression that she had meant nothing to Viktor beyond a friend – and then later not even so much as that. Hermione could feel him start at her words, and begin to pull away, but she kept his hand grasped tightly in hers. "How could you not having read it?" she didn't know if he meant it as much, but his words were accusatory despite the volume they were delivered in.
"I don't know," she replied honestly, "really Viktor, I don't. But you know what things were like at that time. We were never in one place for more than a day or two, and took enough precautions that owl post reaching us was sketchy, even from you. And, at the end, there were a million letters coming in to the three of us. I tried to keep the personal separate from the rest, and maybe I failed – but I swear to you it wasn't on purpose."
Entwining his fingers in hers more firmly, this time with him not trying to stop her, she took a deep breath. "I would have chosen you in a moment," Hermione continued with a small smile, full of regret. "I would have been in Bulgaria the moment all my other obligations were done. You had come to mean more to me than anyone but the boys – and despite my mistake with Ron, that was in an entirely platonic fashion. I thought that would have come through in my correspondence, but maybe I didn't do an adequate job."
"I know it's been a lot of years," she continued regretfully, "maybe too many. But I'd like to find out of that still means anything."
Hermione was surprised when Viktor seemed to relax, taking his other hand and placing it over their joined ones. But when he opened his mouth to speak, he was seemingly talking to himself more than her. Neither of them noticed when the waiter came and went, deciding to come back later with their bread basket. "Maybe I have small thought vhen you not be replying that it be for the best," he said softly, examining their joined hands as he spoke. She opened her mouth to reply, but he shook his head, continuing himself.
"I perhaps be thinking that Veasley be the best for you," Viktor's words were soft as he traced a pattern over the back of her hand. "He being friends vith you since you vere both very young. That maybe playing a part. He be like family, and I not wanting to be coming in between." He paused, before continuing with a soft smile, even as his eyes stayed focused on their conjoined hands, "But then I think – to be romantic vith family? That not be healthy."
He gripped her hand tightly, but Hermione was too lost in listening to him to even consider opening her mouth to reply. "And then I be thinking, maybe I not be good, as I be taking her from her home? Friends, parents, they all be in Britain." Again, he paused before adding, "But then I be realizing – it not matter. If she vant me, I maybe move to Britain. Play for Cannons, even if they being the vorst team in the league."
"But the vorry I cannot get past," and when Viktor began this statement he smirked. And Hermione was spellbound because she didn't think she had ever seen that expression on his face, "Is that perhaps Veasley he be best for her, as he be obviously tamer man. He be…..gentle. And I," he looked up at her when he said this, "not always be so much."
Hermione melted at both his words and his intense gaze, unable to reply coherently when he raised their joined hands to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her hand as he let his tongue lightly caress her skin. "I be thinking," he was still staring intently at her, despite not speaking directly to her, "that maybe she not be ready for me. That she not know vhat I would vant from her. Because," Viktor continued, reaching out a hand to cup her cheek, "I vould be vanting to luff her. And vhen I say that, I not be meaning candlelight and roses, althought they vould be playing a part. I be meaning that I vould vant to luff her in every vay." He raised her other hand again, this time nipping at the skin with his teeth, before adding with a feral smile, "often. And, perhaps, not so gently."
Hermione was practically melting in her seat. She could tell that her knickers were damp simply from his words, and she shuddered to think what Viktor would do to her if he so much as did more than touch her hand. "She," Hermione began, embarrassed when her voice broke, and determinedly began again, "She might have been ready then, she might not have been, but I can tell you one thing Viktor," this time, she paused, casting him a smile that was anything but shy, "she is now."
Hermione couldn't help but grin when his eyes widened, looking around to locate their waiter, motioning for the cheque despite the fact their entrees has yet to arrive. He caught the other man's eye, and made the appropriate overture. He didn't hesitate until he turned back to her, raising his eyebrows in question. "I not being presumptuous?" Viktor inquired, seeming slightly nervous at her reply.
She actually took a moment before answering him, as she watched the waiter make his way to their table. For a second she worried this was out of character for her, willing to leave with a man after dinner – no, not even dinner, but three sips of wine. And, it would have gone again every instinct she had ever had, except for one small detail. It was Viktor. "No," Hermione answered him firmly as the waiter approached, bringing their cheque, "you're not being presumptuous."
*************************************
They'd apparated to her flat after leaving the restaurant, more out of necessity than anything. He was staying in a hotel in London, considering the team was sticking around the area, having a match with Puddlemere United in two days. That in itself wouldn't have been a problem, the room likely nicer than the one bedroom flat she kept near the ministry, but apparently the coach was strict about things like female visitors if he caught them – although she wasn't quite sure how Viktor being discovered not coming back to the hotel would be any better. But she couldn't be arsed to care when she could feel his presence, solid behind her, his hips almost pressing against her backside as she unlocked the door to her flat, dispensing with the lock and wards both magically and manually as fast as she could.
Pushing open the door, Hermione practically stumbled inside, his presence seeming to push her forward. "Would you like a…." she began awkwardly, breaking off when she was spun around and pressed against the wall of the entranceway, his lips pressing firmly against hers, urging her to open her mouth which she gladly did, dropping her keys and her wand to let her hands fist in the material of his suit jacket that he had worn for dinner. "I'll take that as a no," she murmured between kisses, giving up and wrapping her arms around Viktor's neck, trying to bring him closer to her. It wasn't easy, given their height differential, and she popped up onto her toes, trying to arch against him.
His hands moved from their position on her hips, sliding up and down the length of her. "Vhere being bedroom?" Viktor demanded, seemingly short of breath as he pulled back, resting his forehead against hers in an apparent attempt to steady himself.
Hermione grinned. Oh, it had been too long since she had done this. And, longer still since she had felt anything close to being swept away by feeling in the same way she was now. If only she had an inkling all those years ago, they wouldn't have had to wait. She could have been with him since the beginning. Not wasting the time in a pseudo-celibate state, and certainly not wasting that time with Ron. "Why wait for the bedroom?" she replied breathlessly, fisting her hands in his hair. At his raised eyebrows she smiled mischievously, "If I remember correctly, you wanted to 'love me' in every way possible, and perhaps not so gently. I don't think we need a bed for that."
Viktor groaned, even as he leaned his head down to nip at the skin of her neck. He braced on arm against the wall as he looked down at her. "I vould be content," he continued, sliding up slightly, and she could feel his breath warm against her ear, "to luff you outside in a Bulgarian winter." And despite the fact he was using the verb euphemistically for sex, and she knew he meant the sentiment to some extent (at least as much as one could after not seeing their partner in years), his use of 'love' was more erotic than if he had promised to fuck her six ways from Sunday, even if the meaning was the same. "But, I vould like some bit of comforting. The wall, it not be too pleasant."
"I don't want to wait," Hermione sighed, putting her hands on each side of his head and bringing him closer, placing a kiss upon his lips. "I want you to 'love me', 'fuck me', or whatever it is we're going to do here tonight as soon as possible. We've been waiting too long for this Viktor, we can do it on every surface of my flat as soon as we get the first time out of the way."
He seemed a little shocked at her words, and for all Viktor's worry about rough treatment, she realized she had to take into account that in a way he thought of her still as the more reserved teen she had been, rather than the woman she was now. Although she would have loved to have her first time be with Viktor, she had been divested of her virginity long ago – by a then fumbling Ron – and while she didn't have as much of it as some woman, she was rather fond of sex.
"You being a bit bold," he commented, even as he slid his hand under the hem of her dress, dragging it up to her hip where he let his hands rest. "Perhaps my worries, they be unfounded? Perhaps I found woman who be vanting things the way I vant them?"
"Perhaps," Hermione allowed with a smile, feeling a slight thrill despite the fact she might be getting in over her head. Her experience, while adequate, wasn't exactly varied. Forcing herself to remain confident, she slid her hand from his neck, letting a single finger trail down his front, before cupping him through his slacks, the thinner material of the suit not concealing much. "Maybe you should test the waters Mr. Krum."
Viktor arched against her hand, his voice terse, "Maybe I vill. Maybe ve vill do this the vay you suggest, as it being very convenient. But I be telling you something, you vill be vaiting a little." He smiled, grabbing her hand and raising it to his lips, as he started to lower himself to his knees. "Quidditch? It not be the only thing I like to playing. I vould like to play with you a little, yes?"
She giggled at his words, but his hands were sliding up her dress, pressing it into her waist so she was left with nothing but her skimpy knickers covering her and all thoughts of laughter started to fade. Maybe it made her a bit of a tart, but she had changed into the most risqué pair of knickers she owned – which for her was still rather conservative, but at least they were black lace – when she had apparated back to her flat to change for dinner. "Hold," Viktor's one word command startled her into awareness, and she grabbed her dress, holding it where he had positioned it as he leaned forward.
"I be finding these sexy," he chuckled, placing a kiss to the soft skin above her knickers, even as he hooked his thumbs in the waistband, pulling them down slowly, his lips trailing along with them as they descended. He dragged them down to her knees before pressing a firmer kiss to the curls at the apex of her thighs. "Spread." Again, Hermione would have obeyed his command, and she tried her hardest, but he got the point when she shot a pointed look down at her knickers still at knee height, restricting her movement. Smiling, Viktor slid them the rest of the way down her legs, helping her to step out of them, before placing his hands on the inside of her thighs and urging her legs apart. Hermione almost lost her balance, but leaned her back more firmly against the wall, bracing herself as Viktor again leaned forward, giving her a small wink that she would have missed if she wasn't looking so carefully.
His tongue lightly brushed against the delicate skin, and he slid his hand further up her thigh, sliding two fingers into her abruptly, their passage easier because she was wet already – just from talking him, looking at him, and kissing him. For all he promised to be rough, Viktor's pace was slow as he moved his fingers within her. Slow, but certainly not easy. He changed the pace just when she thought she'd become used to it, crooking his fingers within her, and she could feel the bend of his fingers press up against her inner walls.
Hermione's hands slid from her dress as she moaned softly, biting her tongue as she came, and the garment fell, covering his head from her view. His hands were all that were steadying her as she sagged against the wall. She could hear him chuckling as he slid from under her dress, and she gasped at the loss of his mouth and fingers as she shuddered.
"This playing, it not be appealing to you?" Viktor asked, and she wasn't fooled for an instant by the innocence he was trying to project with his wide-eyed look.
"Perhaps it's too appealing," she murmured, bringing her legs together slightly as she rested her hands on his shoulders. "But maybe I think you're not a man of your word. You promised me 'not so gentle', and that is all you are giving me right now."
Viktor chuckled, smoothing her dress down the front of her, as he stood, resting his hands on her hips. "You be as bossy as I be remembering," he smiled to gentle his statement, as he leaned down to kiss her, his tongue playing lazily with hers as he dragged his hands up her sides, cupping her breasts lightly as a tease before reaching up to cup her face in his hands. "I think I be changing my mind," Viktor spoke quietly, "I think maybe the rough, it vait. I think I vould prefer to luff you slowly first. I think I be liking to hear you sexy noises. Maybe I vant this to last a little more." He smiled as he brushed the hair back from her face. "Now that I haff, how you say, taken the edge off for you, maybe you liking that too?"
"I think I might be able to be convinced," Hermione replied, letting her hands drift to his front to slide the suit jacket from his shoulders, melting inside at his words. Nipping at his chin as she slid the garment off, she switched her attention to the buttons on the front of his shirt. "But you're going to have to work very hard to convince me."
Viktor didn't respond verbally to her challenge, but picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, causing her to squeak in surprise, grabbing onto the back of his shirt, still half-buttoned, to steady herself. As much as she could appreciate his strength, she felt ridiculous in that position, especially when his hand smacked her lightly on the bottom before resting there. Despite viewing their path from her upside down position, she was hardly surprised to see the lush blue carpet of her bedroom, and had already braced herself when he tossed her down on the bed, settling on top of her.
"You're overdressed," she chided, pushing his hands away as they reached for her so she could continue the work on his shirt, carefully unbuttoning it so she could push it off, tossing it in the corner where it wouldn't be needed for the rest of the night. When she reached for the buckle on his slacks, Viktor was the one to stop her attentions, raising her up so he could pull her dress over her head. "I could be saying the same thing," he told her as he drew off the garment, sending it to join his shirt. He didn't give her time to be embarrassed before he tackled her bra, undoing it (suspiciously) smoothly, leaving her bared to his gaze.
"I thinking I like this," he told her, letting his gaze rake over her as she lay back down on the bed, grateful she had had the presence of mind to clean this morning – considering half her wardrobe had been scattered on the bed and floor.
"I think," Hermione retorted, reaching for him, "that we are talking far too much. You've become much more verbose in your old age Mr. Krum. And while normally I wouldn't complain," she pulled his head down, kissing him firmly, before adding with a smile, "right now I can see the virtues in shutting up."
He shucked his own pants, kicking them off to leave them at the food of the bed, and as he crawled closer on the bed, she couldn't help but laugh softly at the look of him. He brought his face close to hers, and Hermione was sure he was going to kiss her, but his head dropped at the last moment as he lowered his head to her chest, his mouth finding her nipple as his tongue caressed it gently, a direct contrast to his hand that lid up to cup her other breast, pinching the nipple firmly, but not enough to induce real pain. Hermione moaned, fisting her hands in the sheets, knowing if she let them roam free she would try and shove his head closer.
Viktor slid his mouth down, pressing a kiss to her stomach, before sliding his hands beneath her bottom to arch her hips up slightly making easier access as he lowered his mouth to her again. This time his tongue was where his fingers had been earlier, sliding slowly in and out of her before taking her clit in his mouth, managing to elicit one of those 'sexy noises' he had been hoping for as she let out a keening cry. Hermione didn't bother to restrain herself this time, fisting her hands in his hair, trying to move him. Surprisingly, not to press him closer, but to push him away. "Please," she gasped the word, expanding so he would know what she meant, "if you do that....I won't last. And this time...prefer...you inside me?"
He smiled even as he slid up to press a kiss to her mouth – wide open in an attempt to breathe properly - and she could taste herself on his lips, something that surprisingly enough didn't bother her, even turned her on. "I thought you be haffing more self control than this," he murmured, sliding his lips away, pressing kisses to everywhere but her mouth, teasing her with the contact.
"How much self control would you have," she began, tilting her head quick enough to catch him in a proper kiss, as she slid her hands down his front, "if someone were to do this?" She fisted her hand around the length of him, pumping it slowly up and down, and despite the fact she didn't think it was possible, she could feel him getting harder under her grasp.
"Vhat happened to taking this more slowly?" He demanded in a rough voice, even as he jerked against her hand.
"I can't wait," she told him honestly, releasing him only to scratch a nail gently down his erection.
When he pushed away her hands, Hermione was disappointed, thinking he meant to go back to the slow torture of before, but he grabbed his wand to do the contraception charm before he positioned himself above her properly, bracing himself on the elbow of his free arm. She didn't have time to say a word before he slid inside her, not giving her any time to adjust, not that she needed much at that point. "Fuuuck," she hissed the drawn out curse as he pulled back, sliding forcefully back into her. Viktor for his part wasn't staying silent as well, but he was reduced to murmuring words in his native Bulgarian – at least she would assume it was Bulgarian, she could never tell the difference from Russian – in between kisses.
By that point Hermione thought she would have come right away, but she didn't, the end elusive until Vitkor reached his other hand in between them, fondling her clit at the same time as he thrust into her – and she came more violently than before, the sensations overtaking her, muffling her cry of surprise in his shoulder because they had never cast a muffliato, and she had surprisingly nosey neighbours. She felt him shudder his own release, this time saying nothing but her name as he pounded a fist once into the mattress.
"That was nice," she giggled at her understatement of the century as he pulled out of her, muttering a cleansing spell at the same time.
She could see him roll his eyes as Viktor settled beside her, drawing her into his arms. "Don't be overvhelming me vith compliments," he pointed out as she arranged herself on his chest, her head resting near his collarbone as she let her fingers play idly with the light patch of hair that covered the expanse of his skin.
"Very nice," Hermione amended, leaning up to kiss him softly before returning her head to its resting position.
How strange to be having the doubts now, in the post-coital moment, rather than before. Now, all the worries she should have addressed already were flooding her mind as they lay there in relative silence, his hand tracing the softness of her hair idly. In the end, what had really changed? They certainly weren't dating exactly, he was based in Bulgaria, she worked for the British ministry, they had effectively altered whatever relationship they had been blessed with in the past, they had never said they loved one another (although after all this time it would have been ridiculous) – despite that usually was a requisite for her to have sex….the list went on in her mind.
"You'll stay the night?" was all she asked, reaching over him to grab her wand from the bedside table, lowering the curtains magically at his murmured, "Yes," and dousing the room lights.
There was something she should be saying wasn't there? Something that would make this moment less awkward, something that would let him know how happy she was to be here like this with him? Something that let him know she didn't want it too end when he left England after the Vultures match against Puddlemere United? There was likely some perfect sentiment she was supposed to be expressing right now, but Hermione hadn't the first clue what it was. She opened her mouth a few times, trying to speak, but each time nothing came out that sounded remotely suitable. For his part, she knew Viktor hadn't drifted off to sleep yet either.
"I vould still be villing to play for the Cannons," Vitkor's voice was quiet in the darkness as his arm tightened around her, but he wasn't looking down at her when she raised her head in question, the words coming easier when they weren't face to face. "The Vultures, they be villing to trade me, if they be getting the Cannons chasers. I haff never agreed before, but now..." he broke off, pausing, and she could hear him start to breathe a little heavier before he continued, "if I be giving my vord, all we needing is the ministry approval for trading. You see, I haff this vitch I vould like to be getting to know again."
Hermione smiled despite the fact she knew he couldn't see her with the way she was facing, feeling a thrill of hope at his words. "Don't worry," she began, wondering if her happiness came through in the tone as she patted his chest, "I have an 'in' with the department, I think we'll be able to work something out."
The End
hp_springsmut - the reveals were done today, and there were quite a few good pieces this year, although not in pairings I usually read.Title:After All This Time
Author:
idea_of_sarcasmRating: Adult
Pairing(s): Hermione/Viktor
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: She hadn't seen him in years, although it wasn't entirely by choice.
Author's Notes: Written for [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] for the
hp_springsmut exchange."This is not my idea of a good time Ron," Hermione told him crossly, even as she leaned across the expanse of her desk to take the ticket he was insistently offering. She hadn't bothered to get up when he entered, knowing he was going to try and talk her into this. Her office at the Ministry was large enough Ron could stand unhindered, but like a man who had never quite become adjusted to his height, he stood relatively hunched over. "Why on earth you think it's a good idea to take me to the Cannons game with you is beyond my understanding."
"I don't want to go by myself, and Harry's committed to do Merlin knows what with Luna," Ron complained, giving up on looking official standing in front her desk, and flopped down on the chair in front of it. She watched him eye almost suspiciously, like he always did, the multiple stacks of parchment that lined the top of her desk. Hermione didn't think she had seen the wood of the desktop in two years, but Ron didn't have to look so appalled at the actual work she had to do.
"And," he continued, obviously holding himself back from propping his feet up, "I have to go, it's part of my job."
Having ascended the ranks quickly, Ron had managed to secure himself the position of deputy director of the department of magical games and sports after giving up on his pro Quidditch career. As far as Hermione could tell, he didn't have to do much outside of give an occasional seal of approval on a new Quidditch team starting, or the format and location of the World Cup. For all that he made the desk job out to be a chore, when he would rather be playing Quidditch, Hermione knew it was nothing in comparison to the work she had been doing for the Department of International Magic Cooperation. She liked to think she had got the job on her own merits, rather than someone who's father had greased their path at the Ministry
Leaning back in her own chair, Hermione fiddled with her quill. "Funny how that's a responsibility you never seem to delegate," she remarked dryly, running her fingers through the white feather of the writing instrument. "And what, your sister and multitude of brothers aren't interested in going?"
"They have work," Ron responded, oblivious to the pointed look she shot at her paperwork, until she coughed and indicated the multitude of papers spread across her desk. "Yes, fine, I get it – you're busy. But that's all the more reason you should come with me Hermione. You live at this bloody place, and you need to get out more. The department will survive an evening without you."
Hermione sighed, knowing she had conceded the point the moment she had taken the ticket from him. "If you had really been worried about me 'getting out'," she responded, glancing at him pointedly, "you would have come to that opera performance last month when I asked you. Instead, I had to let Perkins and his insipid wife take the tickets – although I don't think that woman knows the difference between an aria and recitative singing."
"That was different," he answered with a wave of his hand.
"How so?" Hermione raised her eyebrows, half knowing the answer even as she asked the perfect set up question
Ron grinned, even as he pushed himself to his feet, "Because I didn't want to go."
She could feel herself breaking into a smile, shaking her head in mock disgust. "And you wonder why we broke up after only a few months. I think it's astounding we lasted that long. But yes, I'm capable of being a better friend than you were ever a boyfriend. Providing of course, that you get out of my office so I can get some actual work done in order to have the time to take off to watch a silly game."
"That means you'll come?" Ron asked hopefully.
"Yes, Ronald," she rolled her eyes at his ability to state the obvious. "That means I'll come."
"Cold?" Ron's off-hand question was filled with about as much concern as she had shown when she had asked how the Cannons were doing that year. Hermione had to wonder what was his first clue was, the chattering of her teeth, or the shivering as she huddled up against him. She didn't quite understand why the corporate seats allotted to the Ministry couldn't have been in some sort of private box.
"Just a little," she lied with a roll of her eyes, even as she drew her wand to cast a heating spell around them. Of course that act drew dirty looks from the other fans seated around them – which she didn't quite understand. Did they enjoy sitting there in the cold when they had the easy ability to warm themselves with magic? The lack of warm jackets she could understand even if she thought it was stupid, considering they wanted to show off their Cannons paraphernalia, but sitting there freezing made no sense.
Hermione tightened her jacket, pulling the neck flap up as high as it would go. "Who's playing today?" she asked as she shoved her hands into the pockets.
"The Vratsa Vultures are in town," he replied, even as the teams began to fly onto the pitch. Ron went on to explain that they were primarily the reason he was here, some deal with a meeting their general manager had requested regarding changing the regulation size of the hoops used for scoring, but Hermione had tuned him out the moment after he had mentioned the teams name.
From where they were sitting it was impossible to tell the individual faces of the players, but she knew he was there. Even she, who hadn't watched a Quidditch match since Ron's brief stint with the Kestrals, knew he played for the Vultures. It didn't take the voice over the speaker system to let her know that the infamous Viktor Krum – seeker and captain – had just taken the field.
Her hands clenched in her pockets, fisting the material, but outwardly she was calm. After all, when one looked at it logically, seeing him again shouldn't really bother her. Seeing him from afar shouldn't affect her in the slightest. Despite what her brain told her, that didn't stop her breath from catching when his face was spelled onto the board used for advertisements. It lasted only a moment, his endorsement of the new Nimbus 3000 broom, but her eyes were glued to it anyway. And it didn't stop her from tracking him as the players took their places, ready to begin the game.
"Oi, Hermione," Ron tried to get her attention, but his focus was drawn away when the match began to start.
The majority of the match had passed in a blur. It had probably been best that the Vultures had beaten the Cannons efficiently. It hadn't been that lopsided a victory, but that was because the Bulgarian team had been too kind to rack up the score, even before the snitch had been caught. It had been a given to the rest of the team that Krum would catch the snitch before Galvin Gudgeon, the hopeless seeker for the Cannons, and they hadn't wanted to embarrass the home team.
For Hermione's part, she wouldn't have noticed if the Cannons had never scored a point. Her eyes had only been for Viktor, a fact which would have amused Ron if he had been astute enough to notice. As it was, he had just thought that she was finally discovering a love for the game of Quidditch, although why he would even contemplate that as an option after all these years was beyond her.
She hadn't seen Viktor in years. Well, tucked in a drawer at home, she had his 'famous wizard' card, but that didn't count even if she allowed herself the luxury of looking at it. Viktor had sent it to her himself as a self-deprecating joke, in one of this letters, during her first month of her searching for the horcrux's with the boys. Her correspondence with him had been a bit of a guilty pleasure, a term which simplified the risk she was taking. But it had been a luxury she and Ron had afforded themselves, on person with whom they could confide in. One person to give them a link to real life, and know they were still alive. She had chosen Viktor, knowing her parents wouldn't understand what she was doing – while Ron had kept in touch with his brother in Romania, knowing he could keep things from the rest of the family. Harry of course had had the option as well, but there had been nobody he had wanted to write to, considering he refused to endanger Ginny, and he had stopped pretending any familial affection for the Dursley's long before.
It never failed to amuse her, in a cruel kind of way, that they had managed to keep in touch through a bloody war, and two months after he had stopped writing. No warning, no explanation, just nothing. Of course she hadn't pressed the issue and tried to demand a reason, but after three of her letters had gone unanswered she had given up, pretending it didn't matter.
Which, of course, it did.
Not just because she had been rather enamored of him since the Yule Ball, despite not seeing him except in pictures since, but because through letters they had built a deeper friendship than she had with anyone save possibly Harry and Ron, and she didn't talk about half so many things with the boys. Of course he had probably humoured her during the war, keeping in touch because he felt he should, but she liked to believe it was more. It would have helped – well, not helped, but made her feel better about herself – if she had been able to pretend he had been grievously injured or killed somehow, but considering his face was splashed across most periodicals when she entered the bookstore, she didn't even have that luxury.
It had been a few years, and it wasn't like she had been pining all this time, despite her occasional thought of 'what might have been' and the fact she kept his picture. That, however, didn't make her any more eager to accompany Ron into the Vultures changing room where he was going to meet their general manager so he could placate the man by blatantly lying about a rule change to the regulation size of the hoops being considered.
"Most girls would be beating down the door to get a chance inside the hallowed area of the changing room," he muttered grumpily, still trying to convince her to come with him.
"Most blokes wouldn't be forcing the issue like this," Hermione retorted, grabbing her wand to transfigure herself a chair outside of the door. Plopping down, she motioned towards the entrance. "Now, get inside so we can go home, or I'm using the portkey without you. The lack of my presence will not hinder your ability to hold the meeting, or to catch Angelina Johnson in her knickers which we all know is your real intention since you won't let this meeting wait until after."
Ron was relegated to an annoyed, "Shut up," as he entered the building, rolling his eyes at her as he shut the door to the Vultures dressing room behind him. The security guard who was guarding the entranceway, despite discreetly pretending not to eavesdrop, cracked a smile before returning his face to its normal impassive form.
Content to wait, especially since it meant she wouldn't have to risk running into Viktor, Hermione pulled out a book she had shrunk to stick in her bag, returning it to it's normal size so she would have something to read while she waited. From experience she knew Ron would be awhile – sticking around to discuss the good old Quidditch days with the players, despite having only one professional season as a second-string player under his belt. For him, although they were all technically former colleagues, talking to the players still brought on an annoying amount of hero worship, another reason she was more than happy to maintain her post outside.
Hermione had just gotten to the best part of her book – the chapter on the intricacies of trade standards regarding French cauldrons – when the door opened and a shadow was cast over her page. Flipping it shut quickly, she shrunk it down and stuck it back in her bag, throwing the bag over her shoulders – more than willing to take advantage of whatever stroke of luck had brought Ron out of there in less than an hour.
Of course she wasn't expecting to come face to face with the Bulgarian seeker himself, seemingly struck dumb by her presence.
"Viktor!" she exclaimed, unable to come up with anything more expressive than his name.
Merlin, he looked good. He wasn't supposed to look this good. He was supposed to look older, and preferably fat, maybe a few crooked features from multiple broken bones. But if anything he looked better than his publicity images, and certainly better than he had the last time she had seen him in person. He had lost the callowness of his youth a long time ago, and his features had filled out nicely with maturity. And, like all good Quidditch players, his body was in top physical form.
Not that she was looking of course.
"Hermione," Viktor sounded as surprised to see her as she was to find him as the one coming out of the locker room. She had been under the impression the team members typically portkeyed together out of the locker room to their next game location. Hermione was slightly surprised by the way he said her name – not because it was odd, but because it was actually correct. Said in a Bulgarian accent of course, but close to correct. Apparently time apart had taught him her name in a way her patient (and not so patient) lessons in the library at Hogwarts never had.
Shaking his head, he still looked confused as much as shocked, "You come to see Quidditch? I not be expecting that. Effer. You," he paused before continuing, staring intently at her, "you not be vaiting for me?"
"No," she declared, possibly a little too adamantly. "I wasn't waiting for you. I was just waiting for someone else – a friend of mine had a meeting with your general manager. That is the only reason I am here, both for the game and now." She was very careful to clarify that point.
She could have sworn she saw disappointment cross Viktor's face, before he glanced back to the door that had closed behind him, understanding seeming to dawn. "Veasley," he almost seemed to darken at the name, which confused her. While Ron made for a horrific boyfriend, he was usually affable with other men – at least those who weren't blonde haired prats – and his name didn't usually inspire that reaction.
"He not being long," Viktor replied shortly, hefting his bag over his shoulder as he turned to go. "Meeting soon be done, and players be gone. He vill be returning soon."
Like his sudden discontinuation of the letters, his reaction made little sense to Hermione. Even if she was only a relative stranger, she deserved some polite chit-chat. At the very least a few 'how are you's?' before he made his excuses. Whatever she had done, or rather he had thought she had done, to offend him, especially this long after the fact, confused her. To her knowledge she had done nothing, and for once she was willing to demand answers so she could know at least what grudge he was carrying.
"Viktor…." she spoke his name, reaching out to grab him as he began to walk away, but was paused by the actual exit of Ron from the building.
"Your boyfriend, he being here now," Viktor replied, removing her hand from his arm gently.
Hermione was shocked by his reaction. Not so much that he assumed things about her and Ron – others had done that before, but that he seemed genuinely upset as he ground out the words. "Ron's not my boyfriend," she replied vehemently. "We are friends. That's it, friends." Not that the clarification should really mean anything. Ron seemed surprised by the exchange, but tried to not to let it infuse any awkwardness into the situation.
"Viktor, it's nice to…." He tried to get a word in edgewise, and do the polite greeting, but Viktor cut him off.
"You not be dating him?" the words came out rougher than she expected as Viktor looked back and forth between the two of them, gesturing vaguely at Ron with his hand, setting the heavy bag with his equipment down on the ground beside him as he waited for the answer.
She shook her head. "Merlin, no, of course not" Hermione replied firmly, sounding appalled – even as she completely ignored Ron's indignant, "Hey!", at her statement. "I'm not seeing Ron." Shaking her head, she added quietly, "I'm not seeing anyone." Clarifying that detail shouldn't seem so important, but she was careful to add it on anyway. It was likely nothing that mattered; even if he wasn't so seemingly annoyed with her, he was Viktor Krum, and likely had a bevy of girls warming his bed. Quidditch groupies, they were all slags she was sure.
Viktor glanced back and forth between her and Ron, the frown on his face confusing her. Ron, mercifully for once in his life, was silent. It was likely mostly due to the fact that, like her, he had no idea what was going on. Well, she at least had a partial idea. She was implying to Viktor that she was still available if he wanted her, despite the fact he really didn't deserve the time of day. But what was going on with respect to him, she was as in the dark as Ron.
Casting one last look at Ron, Viktor asked abruptly. "Vould you be liking to have dinner vith me?"
"Well, I'm afraid I have plans...." Ron began with a smirk, breaking off when Hermione stepped over and cuffed him on the arm.
"Yes, I'd like that," she replied firmly, seemingly surprising both Viktor and him with her answer.
Hermione didn't know what she had been expecting when she had accepted his offer of dinner, but a lavish French restaurant in the middle of wizarding London certainly hadn't been it. This wasn't Viktor – at least not the Viktor she had known. When the waiter brought them their menus, she glanced around uncomfortably. People were staring, some with open curiosity, some just sneaking glances as they ate their meal. She had dealt with excessive curiosity in her lifetime – after all she had helped defeat Voldemort – but that had faded long ago, and Hermione knew that they weren't looking because of her. Well, only as an extension of the fact that she was dining with a handsome and popular Quidditch star.
Although she would have much preferred a smaller and out of the way restaurant, Hermione didn't comment, flipping open her menu with what she hoped was a serene smile. It was hard to be casual when it felt like every eye in the place was on you.
But that paranoia was broken, and replaced with a new one, when she saw a blinding flash, and heard the telltale click of the camera. She noticed Viktor smiling politely off to their right, and glanced over to see a newspaper photographer – at least she could only assume that's who it was – taking their picture, smirking when she glared at him, before he was escorted to the front door by the manager, seemingly unconcerned since he had got what he had come for.
"How do you get used to it?" she asked Viktor, turning back to him when the other man was shoved forcibly out of the restaurant. "The attention, the accolades, and most importantly – people following you around, determined to capture every moment of your life on camera."
He seemed less perturbed than she would have expected, shrugging lightly at her statement. If she hadn't known better Hermione would have thought she caught a slight gleam of satisfaction in his gaze. Why, she didn't know. She was none too excited to have the picture of the two of them splayed across every gossip rag, and she would think Viktor would be even less inclined to be happy about it, even if this was commonplace to him in a way it wasn't for her.
When the waiter departed, wine order placed, she straightened slightly in her chair. "It's been a long time," Hermione told him, stating the obvious. "I wasn't expecting to see you again – at least without it being in a broom advertisement or on a notice for the next Quidditch world cup.
Viktor looked slightly embarrassed at the mention of his publicity work, but just shrugged in response. "It be required of us, to be making ourselves available for public. But for the new Nimbus, that I be doing for the money. I buy new house, and be needing some for renovations, and the changes I be vanting made." He flipped open his own menu, glancing away from her as he examined it. Hermione stared at him for a moment, but went back to perusing her own, trying to remember her rudimentary French in order to decipher the dishes listed before her.
There was no acknowledgement of the real meaning of her statement. Hermione knew why she had made the observation, trying to prod him into mentioning why he had stopped all correspondence with her, but he hadn't taken the bait. Her mind was hardly on the food when she chose the 'suamon avec beurre blanc', the French she remembered enough to assure her that it was a safe choice, and she wouldn't be getting some odd creature served to her on a plate.
They sat silently until the waiter approached, taking their order before disappearing casually, taking the menus with him and leaving the wine. Not caring she might look like a lush, Hermione took a large sip of the glass he had poured her. She wasn't quite sure why she had agreed to this dinner. Yes, she liked Viktor, and she didn't think he had altered his personality over the years to change that. And yes, he was still as bloody handsome as ever, perhaps even more so since growing into his looks. But the downside was, he didn't seem to be paying much attention to the fact she was even there.
The Viktor she had used to know was always attentive. Hesitant, yes – not used to conversing in English, as it wasn't his native tongue – but never neglecting her or being hurtful. The man across from her had evolved from the boy that had spent countless hours with her in the library. He had grown up from the boy who had taken her to her first dance, and had been there for her through some of the worst times of her life, even if just through the written word. But against the logic of that, the man across from her was making her feel uncomfortable, and she felt like she barely knew him anymore.
Her resolve not to make an issue of it broke when he simply sat there, taking a sip of his wine and examining her, without saying a single word. "Why did you stop writing me?" she demanded, not noticing that her voice carried, and any patrons at tables in the near vicinity had stopped eating to listen, considering they had been paying attention to the drama as it was. She couldn't even blame the demand on the wine, having had only a few sips. But it was the question that had been plaguing her for a long time.
Viktor glanced around, used to attempting to keep his personal business just that – personal. Which she was rather shooting out of the water right now. "Do ve need to be discussing this ?" he asked, leaning forward to keep his words quiet. He couldn't have looked more suspicious to onlookers if he had tried.
"Yes," she replied firmly, taking another sip of the wine for courage before placing the glass carefully on the table, "we do. Because I can't just go on this evening pretending that it doesn't matter. Really Viktor, that isn't going to work for me." He seemed uncomfortable, not surprisingly, but Hermione pressed on. "Do you have any idea how much that hurt me, when you never returned any of my letters after the end of the war? Did you even take that part into consideration?" She leaned forward herself, resting her elbows on the table. "You were one of my closest friends, I depended on you in my time of need, and then…….nothing. Just, nothing. And, despite racking my brain for hours, I came up with nothing I had done wrong!"
She had at least meant to save this subject for dessert, before confronting him, but had found she couldn't pretend for even a meal that she just didn't care. She sat there, resisting the urge to lean back in her chair and cross her arms across her chest, as she watched Viktor struggle to think before he spoke. "Veasley," he finally ground out, looking at the silverware, the table, the people around them – anywhere but at her – before clarifying simply, "Ron."
Of all the things that could have confused her the most, that answer was probably the one that did it – outside of him blaming Harry. "Okay," she began, resting her hands on the table, "I'm confused. Are you blaming Ron for your inability to write me? I know he is a horrible correspondent, but I don't know what that has to do with you not continuing to send letters. Or, at least why you didn't send a bloody explanation as to why you were essentially disowning me as a friend."
Viktor sighed, seeming to deflate slightly, shaking his head as he continued. "Ron, he being the reason I do not send letters. No, that not quite be truth. I not be sending the letters because of you not be answering all of mine. How do you not be thinking that be easy for me? You not respond to letter that vas very hard for me to have sending, and pretending it did not be happening. That be vhy I not send any more."
Her hand stilled from where it had been playing with the silverware, waiting for him to reply. "What letter?" Hermione asked suspiciously – at a loss for why he had those concerns. She had read every letter she had ever received from Viktor, and treasured them all. And there had been nothing in them that she had ever tried to side-step.
Viktor began to look a little irritated, but he kept his voice soft, knowing the diners around them were watching with interest. "The one vhere I be telling you that I vould like to see you. The one vhere I be admitting that I be attracted to you still, and hoping you vould be villing to perhaps be visiting me? The one that you be ignoring, until I be hearing in the trashy news that you have started to seeing the Veasley. That vould be the one I be meaning. Your letters after that, they not say saying a thing, not even a small explanation."
Her heart stopped at his admission. "I never received any letter like that Viktor," she replied earnestly, leaning forward on the table, so her face was approaching his. "I would have never been so callous about it, at the very least." She took a deep breath, catching his eye and not looking away. "But," she began gently, taking his hand in hers without allowing him to pull away, as at this point she had nothing left to lose, "if I had received a letter like that, I would have responded....favourably."
When she had started dating Ron, short time though it was, she had done it with the impression that she had meant nothing to Viktor beyond a friend – and then later not even so much as that. Hermione could feel him start at her words, and begin to pull away, but she kept his hand grasped tightly in hers. "How could you not having read it?" she didn't know if he meant it as much, but his words were accusatory despite the volume they were delivered in.
"I don't know," she replied honestly, "really Viktor, I don't. But you know what things were like at that time. We were never in one place for more than a day or two, and took enough precautions that owl post reaching us was sketchy, even from you. And, at the end, there were a million letters coming in to the three of us. I tried to keep the personal separate from the rest, and maybe I failed – but I swear to you it wasn't on purpose."
Entwining his fingers in hers more firmly, this time with him not trying to stop her, she took a deep breath. "I would have chosen you in a moment," Hermione continued with a small smile, full of regret. "I would have been in Bulgaria the moment all my other obligations were done. You had come to mean more to me than anyone but the boys – and despite my mistake with Ron, that was in an entirely platonic fashion. I thought that would have come through in my correspondence, but maybe I didn't do an adequate job."
"I know it's been a lot of years," she continued regretfully, "maybe too many. But I'd like to find out of that still means anything."
Hermione was surprised when Viktor seemed to relax, taking his other hand and placing it over their joined ones. But when he opened his mouth to speak, he was seemingly talking to himself more than her. Neither of them noticed when the waiter came and went, deciding to come back later with their bread basket. "Maybe I have small thought vhen you not be replying that it be for the best," he said softly, examining their joined hands as he spoke. She opened her mouth to reply, but he shook his head, continuing himself.
"I perhaps be thinking that Veasley be the best for you," Viktor's words were soft as he traced a pattern over the back of her hand. "He being friends vith you since you vere both very young. That maybe playing a part. He be like family, and I not wanting to be coming in between." He paused, before continuing with a soft smile, even as his eyes stayed focused on their conjoined hands, "But then I think – to be romantic vith family? That not be healthy."
He gripped her hand tightly, but Hermione was too lost in listening to him to even consider opening her mouth to reply. "And then I be thinking, maybe I not be good, as I be taking her from her home? Friends, parents, they all be in Britain." Again, he paused before adding, "But then I be realizing – it not matter. If she vant me, I maybe move to Britain. Play for Cannons, even if they being the vorst team in the league."
"But the vorry I cannot get past," and when Viktor began this statement he smirked. And Hermione was spellbound because she didn't think she had ever seen that expression on his face, "Is that perhaps Veasley he be best for her, as he be obviously tamer man. He be…..gentle. And I," he looked up at her when he said this, "not always be so much."
Hermione melted at both his words and his intense gaze, unable to reply coherently when he raised their joined hands to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her hand as he let his tongue lightly caress her skin. "I be thinking," he was still staring intently at her, despite not speaking directly to her, "that maybe she not be ready for me. That she not know vhat I would vant from her. Because," Viktor continued, reaching out a hand to cup her cheek, "I vould be vanting to luff her. And vhen I say that, I not be meaning candlelight and roses, althought they vould be playing a part. I be meaning that I vould vant to luff her in every vay." He raised her other hand again, this time nipping at the skin with his teeth, before adding with a feral smile, "often. And, perhaps, not so gently."
Hermione was practically melting in her seat. She could tell that her knickers were damp simply from his words, and she shuddered to think what Viktor would do to her if he so much as did more than touch her hand. "She," Hermione began, embarrassed when her voice broke, and determinedly began again, "She might have been ready then, she might not have been, but I can tell you one thing Viktor," this time, she paused, casting him a smile that was anything but shy, "she is now."
Hermione couldn't help but grin when his eyes widened, looking around to locate their waiter, motioning for the cheque despite the fact their entrees has yet to arrive. He caught the other man's eye, and made the appropriate overture. He didn't hesitate until he turned back to her, raising his eyebrows in question. "I not being presumptuous?" Viktor inquired, seeming slightly nervous at her reply.
She actually took a moment before answering him, as she watched the waiter make his way to their table. For a second she worried this was out of character for her, willing to leave with a man after dinner – no, not even dinner, but three sips of wine. And, it would have gone again every instinct she had ever had, except for one small detail. It was Viktor. "No," Hermione answered him firmly as the waiter approached, bringing their cheque, "you're not being presumptuous."
They'd apparated to her flat after leaving the restaurant, more out of necessity than anything. He was staying in a hotel in London, considering the team was sticking around the area, having a match with Puddlemere United in two days. That in itself wouldn't have been a problem, the room likely nicer than the one bedroom flat she kept near the ministry, but apparently the coach was strict about things like female visitors if he caught them – although she wasn't quite sure how Viktor being discovered not coming back to the hotel would be any better. But she couldn't be arsed to care when she could feel his presence, solid behind her, his hips almost pressing against her backside as she unlocked the door to her flat, dispensing with the lock and wards both magically and manually as fast as she could.
Pushing open the door, Hermione practically stumbled inside, his presence seeming to push her forward. "Would you like a…." she began awkwardly, breaking off when she was spun around and pressed against the wall of the entranceway, his lips pressing firmly against hers, urging her to open her mouth which she gladly did, dropping her keys and her wand to let her hands fist in the material of his suit jacket that he had worn for dinner. "I'll take that as a no," she murmured between kisses, giving up and wrapping her arms around Viktor's neck, trying to bring him closer to her. It wasn't easy, given their height differential, and she popped up onto her toes, trying to arch against him.
His hands moved from their position on her hips, sliding up and down the length of her. "Vhere being bedroom?" Viktor demanded, seemingly short of breath as he pulled back, resting his forehead against hers in an apparent attempt to steady himself.
Hermione grinned. Oh, it had been too long since she had done this. And, longer still since she had felt anything close to being swept away by feeling in the same way she was now. If only she had an inkling all those years ago, they wouldn't have had to wait. She could have been with him since the beginning. Not wasting the time in a pseudo-celibate state, and certainly not wasting that time with Ron. "Why wait for the bedroom?" she replied breathlessly, fisting her hands in his hair. At his raised eyebrows she smiled mischievously, "If I remember correctly, you wanted to 'love me' in every way possible, and perhaps not so gently. I don't think we need a bed for that."
Viktor groaned, even as he leaned his head down to nip at the skin of her neck. He braced on arm against the wall as he looked down at her. "I vould be content," he continued, sliding up slightly, and she could feel his breath warm against her ear, "to luff you outside in a Bulgarian winter." And despite the fact he was using the verb euphemistically for sex, and she knew he meant the sentiment to some extent (at least as much as one could after not seeing their partner in years), his use of 'love' was more erotic than if he had promised to fuck her six ways from Sunday, even if the meaning was the same. "But, I vould like some bit of comforting. The wall, it not be too pleasant."
"I don't want to wait," Hermione sighed, putting her hands on each side of his head and bringing him closer, placing a kiss upon his lips. "I want you to 'love me', 'fuck me', or whatever it is we're going to do here tonight as soon as possible. We've been waiting too long for this Viktor, we can do it on every surface of my flat as soon as we get the first time out of the way."
He seemed a little shocked at her words, and for all Viktor's worry about rough treatment, she realized she had to take into account that in a way he thought of her still as the more reserved teen she had been, rather than the woman she was now. Although she would have loved to have her first time be with Viktor, she had been divested of her virginity long ago – by a then fumbling Ron – and while she didn't have as much of it as some woman, she was rather fond of sex.
"You being a bit bold," he commented, even as he slid his hand under the hem of her dress, dragging it up to her hip where he let his hands rest. "Perhaps my worries, they be unfounded? Perhaps I found woman who be vanting things the way I vant them?"
"Perhaps," Hermione allowed with a smile, feeling a slight thrill despite the fact she might be getting in over her head. Her experience, while adequate, wasn't exactly varied. Forcing herself to remain confident, she slid her hand from his neck, letting a single finger trail down his front, before cupping him through his slacks, the thinner material of the suit not concealing much. "Maybe you should test the waters Mr. Krum."
Viktor arched against her hand, his voice terse, "Maybe I vill. Maybe ve vill do this the vay you suggest, as it being very convenient. But I be telling you something, you vill be vaiting a little." He smiled, grabbing her hand and raising it to his lips, as he started to lower himself to his knees. "Quidditch? It not be the only thing I like to playing. I vould like to play with you a little, yes?"
She giggled at his words, but his hands were sliding up her dress, pressing it into her waist so she was left with nothing but her skimpy knickers covering her and all thoughts of laughter started to fade. Maybe it made her a bit of a tart, but she had changed into the most risqué pair of knickers she owned – which for her was still rather conservative, but at least they were black lace – when she had apparated back to her flat to change for dinner. "Hold," Viktor's one word command startled her into awareness, and she grabbed her dress, holding it where he had positioned it as he leaned forward.
"I be finding these sexy," he chuckled, placing a kiss to the soft skin above her knickers, even as he hooked his thumbs in the waistband, pulling them down slowly, his lips trailing along with them as they descended. He dragged them down to her knees before pressing a firmer kiss to the curls at the apex of her thighs. "Spread." Again, Hermione would have obeyed his command, and she tried her hardest, but he got the point when she shot a pointed look down at her knickers still at knee height, restricting her movement. Smiling, Viktor slid them the rest of the way down her legs, helping her to step out of them, before placing his hands on the inside of her thighs and urging her legs apart. Hermione almost lost her balance, but leaned her back more firmly against the wall, bracing herself as Viktor again leaned forward, giving her a small wink that she would have missed if she wasn't looking so carefully.
His tongue lightly brushed against the delicate skin, and he slid his hand further up her thigh, sliding two fingers into her abruptly, their passage easier because she was wet already – just from talking him, looking at him, and kissing him. For all he promised to be rough, Viktor's pace was slow as he moved his fingers within her. Slow, but certainly not easy. He changed the pace just when she thought she'd become used to it, crooking his fingers within her, and she could feel the bend of his fingers press up against her inner walls.
Hermione's hands slid from her dress as she moaned softly, biting her tongue as she came, and the garment fell, covering his head from her view. His hands were all that were steadying her as she sagged against the wall. She could hear him chuckling as he slid from under her dress, and she gasped at the loss of his mouth and fingers as she shuddered.
"This playing, it not be appealing to you?" Viktor asked, and she wasn't fooled for an instant by the innocence he was trying to project with his wide-eyed look.
"Perhaps it's too appealing," she murmured, bringing her legs together slightly as she rested her hands on his shoulders. "But maybe I think you're not a man of your word. You promised me 'not so gentle', and that is all you are giving me right now."
Viktor chuckled, smoothing her dress down the front of her, as he stood, resting his hands on her hips. "You be as bossy as I be remembering," he smiled to gentle his statement, as he leaned down to kiss her, his tongue playing lazily with hers as he dragged his hands up her sides, cupping her breasts lightly as a tease before reaching up to cup her face in his hands. "I think I be changing my mind," Viktor spoke quietly, "I think maybe the rough, it vait. I think I vould prefer to luff you slowly first. I think I be liking to hear you sexy noises. Maybe I vant this to last a little more." He smiled as he brushed the hair back from her face. "Now that I haff, how you say, taken the edge off for you, maybe you liking that too?"
"I think I might be able to be convinced," Hermione replied, letting her hands drift to his front to slide the suit jacket from his shoulders, melting inside at his words. Nipping at his chin as she slid the garment off, she switched her attention to the buttons on the front of his shirt. "But you're going to have to work very hard to convince me."
Viktor didn't respond verbally to her challenge, but picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, causing her to squeak in surprise, grabbing onto the back of his shirt, still half-buttoned, to steady herself. As much as she could appreciate his strength, she felt ridiculous in that position, especially when his hand smacked her lightly on the bottom before resting there. Despite viewing their path from her upside down position, she was hardly surprised to see the lush blue carpet of her bedroom, and had already braced herself when he tossed her down on the bed, settling on top of her.
"You're overdressed," she chided, pushing his hands away as they reached for her so she could continue the work on his shirt, carefully unbuttoning it so she could push it off, tossing it in the corner where it wouldn't be needed for the rest of the night. When she reached for the buckle on his slacks, Viktor was the one to stop her attentions, raising her up so he could pull her dress over her head. "I could be saying the same thing," he told her as he drew off the garment, sending it to join his shirt. He didn't give her time to be embarrassed before he tackled her bra, undoing it (suspiciously) smoothly, leaving her bared to his gaze.
"I thinking I like this," he told her, letting his gaze rake over her as she lay back down on the bed, grateful she had had the presence of mind to clean this morning – considering half her wardrobe had been scattered on the bed and floor.
"I think," Hermione retorted, reaching for him, "that we are talking far too much. You've become much more verbose in your old age Mr. Krum. And while normally I wouldn't complain," she pulled his head down, kissing him firmly, before adding with a smile, "right now I can see the virtues in shutting up."
He shucked his own pants, kicking them off to leave them at the food of the bed, and as he crawled closer on the bed, she couldn't help but laugh softly at the look of him. He brought his face close to hers, and Hermione was sure he was going to kiss her, but his head dropped at the last moment as he lowered his head to her chest, his mouth finding her nipple as his tongue caressed it gently, a direct contrast to his hand that lid up to cup her other breast, pinching the nipple firmly, but not enough to induce real pain. Hermione moaned, fisting her hands in the sheets, knowing if she let them roam free she would try and shove his head closer.
Viktor slid his mouth down, pressing a kiss to her stomach, before sliding his hands beneath her bottom to arch her hips up slightly making easier access as he lowered his mouth to her again. This time his tongue was where his fingers had been earlier, sliding slowly in and out of her before taking her clit in his mouth, managing to elicit one of those 'sexy noises' he had been hoping for as she let out a keening cry. Hermione didn't bother to restrain herself this time, fisting her hands in his hair, trying to move him. Surprisingly, not to press him closer, but to push him away. "Please," she gasped the word, expanding so he would know what she meant, "if you do that....I won't last. And this time...prefer...you inside me?"
He smiled even as he slid up to press a kiss to her mouth – wide open in an attempt to breathe properly - and she could taste herself on his lips, something that surprisingly enough didn't bother her, even turned her on. "I thought you be haffing more self control than this," he murmured, sliding his lips away, pressing kisses to everywhere but her mouth, teasing her with the contact.
"How much self control would you have," she began, tilting her head quick enough to catch him in a proper kiss, as she slid her hands down his front, "if someone were to do this?" She fisted her hand around the length of him, pumping it slowly up and down, and despite the fact she didn't think it was possible, she could feel him getting harder under her grasp.
"Vhat happened to taking this more slowly?" He demanded in a rough voice, even as he jerked against her hand.
"I can't wait," she told him honestly, releasing him only to scratch a nail gently down his erection.
When he pushed away her hands, Hermione was disappointed, thinking he meant to go back to the slow torture of before, but he grabbed his wand to do the contraception charm before he positioned himself above her properly, bracing himself on the elbow of his free arm. She didn't have time to say a word before he slid inside her, not giving her any time to adjust, not that she needed much at that point. "Fuuuck," she hissed the drawn out curse as he pulled back, sliding forcefully back into her. Viktor for his part wasn't staying silent as well, but he was reduced to murmuring words in his native Bulgarian – at least she would assume it was Bulgarian, she could never tell the difference from Russian – in between kisses.
By that point Hermione thought she would have come right away, but she didn't, the end elusive until Vitkor reached his other hand in between them, fondling her clit at the same time as he thrust into her – and she came more violently than before, the sensations overtaking her, muffling her cry of surprise in his shoulder because they had never cast a muffliato, and she had surprisingly nosey neighbours. She felt him shudder his own release, this time saying nothing but her name as he pounded a fist once into the mattress.
"That was nice," she giggled at her understatement of the century as he pulled out of her, muttering a cleansing spell at the same time.
She could see him roll his eyes as Viktor settled beside her, drawing her into his arms. "Don't be overvhelming me vith compliments," he pointed out as she arranged herself on his chest, her head resting near his collarbone as she let her fingers play idly with the light patch of hair that covered the expanse of his skin.
"Very nice," Hermione amended, leaning up to kiss him softly before returning her head to its resting position.
How strange to be having the doubts now, in the post-coital moment, rather than before. Now, all the worries she should have addressed already were flooding her mind as they lay there in relative silence, his hand tracing the softness of her hair idly. In the end, what had really changed? They certainly weren't dating exactly, he was based in Bulgaria, she worked for the British ministry, they had effectively altered whatever relationship they had been blessed with in the past, they had never said they loved one another (although after all this time it would have been ridiculous) – despite that usually was a requisite for her to have sex….the list went on in her mind.
"You'll stay the night?" was all she asked, reaching over him to grab her wand from the bedside table, lowering the curtains magically at his murmured, "Yes," and dousing the room lights.
There was something she should be saying wasn't there? Something that would make this moment less awkward, something that would let him know how happy she was to be here like this with him? Something that let him know she didn't want it too end when he left England after the Vultures match against Puddlemere United? There was likely some perfect sentiment she was supposed to be expressing right now, but Hermione hadn't the first clue what it was. She opened her mouth a few times, trying to speak, but each time nothing came out that sounded remotely suitable. For his part, she knew Viktor hadn't drifted off to sleep yet either.
"I vould still be villing to play for the Cannons," Vitkor's voice was quiet in the darkness as his arm tightened around her, but he wasn't looking down at her when she raised her head in question, the words coming easier when they weren't face to face. "The Vultures, they be villing to trade me, if they be getting the Cannons chasers. I haff never agreed before, but now..." he broke off, pausing, and she could hear him start to breathe a little heavier before he continued, "if I be giving my vord, all we needing is the ministry approval for trading. You see, I haff this vitch I vould like to be getting to know again."
Hermione smiled despite the fact she knew he couldn't see her with the way she was facing, feeling a thrill of hope at his words. "Don't worry," she began, wondering if her happiness came through in the tone as she patted his chest, "I have an 'in' with the department, I think we'll be able to work something out."
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(Anonymous) 2007-04-06 10:15 am (UTC)(link)no subject
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I can only imagine Ron's response when she presses that "in" she's got.
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And I did! I loved it muchly! Sequel??
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(and I also have to comment because your icon amused me muchly - where is that quote from?)
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(Eee, it's from a RPG I was in, where Hermione was yelling at Ron about having a dream about himself and Pansy.)
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Brit
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I'm glad you liked the fic though - and as for a sequel, yeah, never really considered one although I can never say never. Maybe I'll have to settle for maybe writing Viktor and Hermione again in a different context (after all, in terms of things you enjoy, they can only reunite so many times in one 'fic universe', lol).
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that'd be cool, I'll keep my eyes open.
Brit
I love it, but...
I do have a question though, just a plot curiosity. When you say Viktor's coach doesn't like to have players bring back women to the hotels but Hermione wonders why being out all night is ok, were you hinting that Viktor has a woman waiting on him already? Perhaps a girlfriend? If so, going with the flow of your fic I think he would definitely choose Hermione. Please, satisfy the curiosity of a fan.
Thank you!
Re: I love it, but...
Your question confuses me a bit, but no - I wasn't implying that Viktor had a woman waiting on him that night. That is what you were asking? He was single, and unattached - although yes, I still think he would have chosen Hermione :-)
Re: I love it, but...
(Anonymous) 2007-04-30 01:35 am (UTC)(link)Anyway, I would be honored if you consider me a fan. I'll be watching for more fics!
Re: I love it, but...
Anyway, I would be honored if you consider me a fan. I'll be watching for more fics!
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I just loved it! ^___^
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-Ellie
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-Ellie
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