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As years went by, Hermione’s mind was significantly slower in the morning when she woke up. She used to be alert as soon as her eyes opened, ready to study, learn, think, or explore the world through her books, but she started to notice a trend for the last few months when, comfortably settled between her husbands, she would actually enjoy staying in bed, surrounded by their warmth, and appreciate the fine art of doing nothing. Snuggles and cuddles were sometimes almost as pleasant as running to the office. Such was this one morning, a lazy Sunday, the air in the house was chilly, and Hermione could not find the will to leave Ron’s embrace.
They were alone in their wide bed, only given comfort by their warm blankets, but she did not worry: Viktor often liked to practice outside in the morning, his absence was not surprising. Hermione waved her wand to attract a roll of parchment towards the bed so that she could get something to read without waking Ron up. Settling in a comfortable position, she kept reading Neville’s last essay on the connections between ecology, feminism, racism, and the inherent systemic inequalities created by the Wizarding world, while Ron curled against her side with a sleepy pur. Like a ginger cat, he rolled himself against her and fell back into a peaceful slumber.
About one hour later as the sun found its way between their light curtains, both lovers finally found the strength to get up, motivated by the desperate calls of Ron’s grumbling stomach. He covered her shoulders in tender kisses, murmured sweet nothings in her ears that she loved to hear despite their lack of logical sense, before he managed to put on his pajamas that had ended up rumpled in a corner of the room last evening.
“Hun’s not here?” Ron asked in a raspy voice.
Hermione shrugged as she put on her favorite robe. “I guess he went flying. Some of us like to get up early, you know.”
She was teasing but Ron’s funny pout as he looked at her made her chuckle. She had left the early bird team a long time ago. Sometimes she even slept in until brunch, but she would rather disappear than admit it out loud! Ron fetched his slippers under the chest where Viktor had started devouring him several hours earlier, then opened the windows to let the house breathe, as he knew Hermione liked it. But as he looked outside, there was no one to be seen in the air around the house. The skies were clear, not a single cloud, neither a handsome Quidditch champion in sight. With one look, both husband and wife shared their concern, and Hermione would have worried if she hadn’t noticed the little reminder she left herself in the corner of the room, a tiny piece of parchment that said “Don’t overthink it”. Easier said than done! She wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and opened the door of their room.
It’s only when the door opened, when they heard the noises coming from the kitchen, that Ron and Hermione remembered they had sound-proofed their bedroom for privacy purposes when Harry and his family had visited them last week, and had forgotten to uncast the spell. Viktor was not training, he was cooking, which could be a sign of deep joy, or of sad feelings. Either way their stomachs would be happy with the outcome, but they knew Viktor had a tendency to cook or bake when he felt bad.
Hermione watched as Ron trotted to their husband and raised onto his toes to kiss his pouty lips. Viktor gave him a quick peck then chased his mouth for another kiss, soft and lingering.
“Morning, my love,” he greeted in a dark tone that contrasted with his gentle words.
Hermione saw the pastry rolls on the table, under Viktor’s hands covered in flour and butter, and she shivered. Banitsas? That was bad! The more complicated and delicate the dish, the worst Viktor felt, that was a fact they had empirically learned. Focusing on his rolls of buttery carbs made him forget about his issues, and neither Ron nor Hermione liked the prospect of Viktor being in trouble. What could be the matter?
Ron started brewing tea while Hermione hugged Viktor from behind, so small she felt like a koala holding onto a tree.
“If there is anything you want to talk about with us, we are here,” she whispered, offering him a way out of an awkward sentimental conversation. She loved them more than she had ever loved anyone, she loved the balance they brought her, the stability of their little family, but she had to give herself some credit for being in a romantic relationship with two men. Emotional discussions were quite difficult to have.
Viktor let out a deep sigh as he placed his dish in the oven and started cleaning his hands. He nodded, and gestured towards the table to suggest he would explain everything once they’d be seated for breakfast, a silent language only his closest special friends could really understand.
“Anyone needs a good achillea millefolium and chamomile today?” Ron asked, kettle in hand, as a not so subtle way to ask if menstruations would influence their household’s mood.
Viktor simply shook his head up and down, a good Bulgarian ‘no’, before he remembered the British way and mumbled, shaking it left to right, “No, thank you.” Hermione silently thanked Ron for his tactful strategy and proceeded towards the pantry.
Once they were all settled and Ron had started biting in the deliciously warm and greasy banitsas, Viktor eventually spoke, his deep voice echoing against the wooden walls, his now very light accent made stronger by his nervousness.
“So… Rrita Skeeterr asked me for an interview.”
Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation at the name. “Oh!”
She opened her mouth to say everything she had to say about that unbearable old mule but she remembered Viktor’s words were not the easiest to get so she should better not cut him off. Instead she just nodded encouragingly, and brushed his big paw with her fingertips.
“Tell me how you sent her packing,” Ron chuckled with his mouth full.
Viktor took a deep breath, frowned at his plate as if the plate had said something terribly rude to him, then announced, “I will do it. I will do the interview. And I’m going to come out.”
Hermione’s eyes widened, she almost choked on her cup of tea. Despite her surprise she felt joy fill her heart in a split second. Viktor looked at her almost shyly; despite their long years spent together, he still looked for her approval. He was self-conscious and thought her much smarter than he would ever be -which was not her opinion, but that’s another story.
“But why? Why to her?” Ron asked. “She’s so... mean! She will try to...”
Viktor stroked the bridge of his nose. He did not need to doubt his decision right now, he had probably thought about it for days, hesitated before this leap of faith, he needed support, not to have the task made more difficult for him. Resisting the urge to taste the delicious food in front of her, Hermione gently took his hand.
“This is the fourth transphobic paper she writes this year,” Viktor grumbled. “And every time she gets more support, people say she should be excused because she's a poor middle-aged woman. I... I don’t want to…”
His voice broke into a trembling sigh and Hermione knew if she didn’t show her unconditional love and support in a minute he would be gone and stay alone with his gloomy thoughts. She entwined their fingers and asked,
“How do you feel about that, love?”
“I’m scared,” Viktor admitted. He who bore his name better than anyone, a champion, a winner, was not allowed to admit his flaws and weaknesses on the Quidditch field, but he was now home, surrounded by his husband and wife, he had to feel safe here more than anywhere else. “I am terrified to lose everything I worked so hard for. My career. My income. Could be a disaster. But… I’m tired. So tired of hiding and pretending.”
He looked at Ron who nodded to encourage him to go on, with tears in his eyes that might be related to his emotions, or to his appreciation for food, Hermione herself was unsure.
“I will soon be thirty-eight. This will be twenty-eight years of… camouflage,” Viktor stated with a sigh. “Nearly three decades of dissimulating spells every day, before I enter the locker room, so that the boys don’t see my actual body but what they want to see. Tree decades of not saying what’s on my mind when supporters yell terrible words at us, when guys call each other pus--”
His voice broke. He took a long swig of tea and Hermione could tell he was troubled but happy with his decision, a turmoil of emotions brewing under the surface of his not so thick skin. He looked concerned but relieved.
“I don’t want to keep pretending I’m just ‘one of the boys’ as if it had always been easy,” Viktor added, his fist nervously flexing next to his plate. “Being one of them has always been harder for me. Why should I let her write those horrible things and act like men like me being assaulted for being themselves is not an issue? It’s not okay. It’s unfair. My mother should not have taken me out in the muggle world to get my top surgery, just because some wizards in charge decided that ‘biology’ is more important than magic, when it serves their conservative purposes.”
Hermione bit her lower lip with a gaze she didn’t want so aroused. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him when he spoke this way, but she could not, because the raging activist sometimes had to wait for her turn, behind the supportive wife.
“But?” Ron asked, feeling like Viktor still held back some of his thoughts.
Viktor scratched his head. “I could… I could lose a lot. What if I were kicked out of every team? If I lost my job... “
Ron laughed softly, stuffing one more banitsa in his mouth. “Then you’d have to be our stay at home husband and cook every day, I have no problem with that!”
Hermione silently winced, this was a sensitive topic and Ron, once again, should have been more tactful. She gave Viktor a soft smile.
"You know we both earn enough for the three of us. Not entirely supporting your family wouldn't make you less of a man," she whispered.
The captain shrugged it off, embarrassed yet relieved to be read so easily. He had had to prove himself so much in the past, it had become a hard to break habit.
“Without the advertising contracts we wouldn’t have the same lifestyle,” Viktor added again, almost apologizing for picking his truth and well-being over fame and richesses.
Ron shook his head with a smile. He got up, sucked the butter off his fingers before he wrapped his arms around Viktor’s neck, gentle and caring. “We don’t need expensive holidays, we don’t need fancy stuff… we only need our husband to be the happiest version of himself. Is that something you could give us?”
Viktor simply nodded, hiding his blushing face in the crook of Ron’s neck. Hermione let out a deep sigh and nibbled on her lower lip. Oh how she could love them when they were sweet to one another! Not having to choose was her biggest luxury in life. Now she got to see them grow old together, in a loving household, almost getting mature sometimes, even though it didn’t happen fast enough for her taste.
“Are you sure you want to do this with Skeeter?” she asked once her lovebirds were done cuddling. “Maybe there could be other ways, ways that would be less harmful for you?”
Viktor seemed to think about it as he gulped down a spoonful of yogurt. He shrugged, “I’m not afraid of her. I’m afraid of ruining our life, or not being able to support my family anymore, but… I know I have many friends in high places, who will support me. My biggest fear is that, uh... what if the consequences hurt you? Your reputations, your careers?”
“You know,” Ron whispered, planting a soft kiss on his Vicky’s lips, “No need to come out, if they heard you talk so much, they would be shocked just as well.”
The champion could not help a chuckle, because Ron was absolutely right. Talking to people was not his biggest strength, which had made hiding and lying to protect himself much easier. Still now he seemed like he couldn’t take one more day of dissimulation. Restraining himself for so long brought him on the verge of explosion.
“What did Skeeter say this time?” Hermione asked. She never read that woman’s prose, and could not understand why her husbands found that funny to dissect. Her every word was infused with venom and maleficence, disguised as entertaining falseness. Or so Hermione thought. And she was certain to be right.
“She wrote that trans women are men in dresses trying to assault real women,” Viktor stated in a low, angry voice. “That sex is sex and nothing can change that.”
Ron made a face, pretending to vomit in his bowl, and for a moment both his partners felt like Hogwart students again, facing their favorite cute dork at the breakfast table.
“Well, everybody knows she only writes lies, so she just proved trans people are valid, right?” he grinned from ear to ear, eliciting a smirk from Viktor.
When the Quidditch player spoke again, his accent was thicker, determined. “I’m tired of pretending. You two are the only ones besides my family to have seen me without the dissimulation spell, I feel like I’m constantly in disguise… It's exhausting, I can't even get out of the house without a cis costume.”
“Yeah, about that,” Hermione added, nose pointed in the air, tapping her finger on her chin to pretend she was thinking, “Maybe you could use that spell on me in those moments when you’re just going out of the shower and I’m already late for work? To make yourself less tempting?”
"As if there could be a version of Vicky you would not want to touch!" Ron laughed.
Viktor gave her one of these winks that made her heart flutter, and Hermione silently agreed that holding onto his muscular frame for a quick moment in heaven was much more important than any important meeting indeed.
She remembered when, after knowing each other for a few school years and slowly getting closer, Viktor had chosen not to include Ron and her into the spell anymore. Hermione could still feel within her memories his anxiety, his loving trust. He did not look that much different, they were all surrounded by teenage boys who all changed so quickly, their voices, their statures, their skins. Viktor with or without a spell was not much of a shocking sight. What struck Hermione was the sudden vulnerability in his eyes, the insecurity. Nowadays, when he came back home and uncasted the spell, he looked just as relieved and comfortable as Hermione when she removed her bra.
“I don’t know,” Viktor eventually sighed, looking at Hermione to search for her approval. “What do you think of all this?”
It was a secret to no one that they both valued her opinion over theirs. They loved how fast she could think of details they had not even imagined. And yes, deep down, Hermione loved that validation but she also wanted them to take care of themselves.
"As your wife I'm concerned because I don't want people to hurt you. I've seen too much of your pain already," she patiently explained.
She would never forget the fear in his eyes, the strong fingers shaking against hers when he told her many years ago that he was not like other guys. He looked so guilty, ashamed, and afraid of her, so unlike the proud champion they all witnessed in the stadium! A sight that would forever break her heart.
"As an activist however, I must say I'm thrilled!" she smiled, fingers running through her own locks. "A Quidditch super star fighting for trans rights? You would make the world a better place! We could pressure the Ministry to legalize gender reassignation spells! You could campaign against bullying! What a change you would make… think about the kids who are insecure about their identity, you could become the role model they needed! You would make a difference for so many people!"
Hermione frowned, realizing she got carried away, almost more concerned about her agenda than her partner’s life-changing decision, but Viktor was giving her a tender look, as usual moved by her passionate heart.
"That's true," Ron nodded enthusiastically. "It felt so cool to learn my hero was bisexual, just like me, when we got together! It helped me a lot back then!"
Hermione couldn't help teasing him from behind her cup of tea. "Your problem was not your bisexuality but you being an annoying nerd."
"Oh, is that so?" Ron smirked back. "Are we going to war so early in the morning? As far as I remember you were an annoying nerd too!"
They both chuckled, admitting their defeat in this non-existent brawl, when Viktor took both their hands, shrugging, "I guess I have a type then!"
.
Viktor had told them he would do the interview, but to his partners’ surprise he decided at the last minute, or so he told Skeeter, that the meeting would take place on the field after a particularly epic game. As a captain, he had been magnificent today, fast and smart, and using tricks never seen before, and the moment she saw him walk to Rita in front of the whole audience, Hermione understood it was all calculated. For the last two weeks Viktor had thought about the interview, spending more time on his broom, flying over the city to ponder his next moves. And that evening, nervously sitting on the edge of her seat, watching him from the terraces next to Ron, Harry and Ginny, Hermione realized he had planned his coming-out like a winning game strategy.
Viktor walked to Skeeter after giving many gentle high fives to children in the audience, then flying fast next to his lady admirers to blow their hats away, provoking giggles and delighted squeals. Hermione had to admit he looked devilishly handsome with his rosy cheeks and sweat covered skin, and it had an effect on the journalist who nibbled the tip of her long feather with unhidden envy. That probably was part of his plan too, to lower her guard.
Hermione noticed how his handshake was slightly longer than his usual greetings, and his smile the sweetest temptation. Those flirty moves he usually kept for his loving partners. When he spoke, he voluntarily exaggerated his accent to play the part. He was not Viktor happily married to his lovers, living in England since his teenage years, he was Krum the exotic champion from Eastern Europe that every woman wanted to have, and every man wanted to be. And tonight, if everything went right, he would expand everyone's worldviews and finally live his truth in public.
"Captain Krum!" Rita beamed, feather vibrating in anticipation. "It is such an honor to talk to you after this brilliant victory! What on Earth is your secret, my dear? How are you so good at managing your team and bringing us victory?"
"Vell, Mrrs Skeeterr," Viktor replied with a pout. "Worrk and happiness make me morre perrformant, I guess."
Rita grinned, trying to remain professional despite her blushing cheeks. "Oh, I bet you have every reason to be happy with those games you win. Your leading skills are unprecedented! Every man in England would be thrilled to be you."
Viktor shrugged, tilted his head a little. "Trrue. A lot of people vould like to be me, even if it means being hated by you…"
For a second it seemed like Rita's eyes would pop from their orbits. Her cheeks turned bright red in confusion under the layers of her makeup and she stuttered, "I beg your pardon? I-I would never..."
Hermione bit her lower lip. She was anxious for Viktor but seeing Rita so confused and embarrassed was a guilty pleasure she happily indulged in. Ron took her hand, both nervous and excited. Next to them, Harry and Ginny shared their apprehension and the tension on their bench was strong.
Viktor shifted his weight from one foot to the other in a calculated move. His players were around the stadium, all eyes on him. It was impossible to tell who knew where he was going with that, and who was clueless.
"I know you don't like trransgenderr people, Mrs Skeeterr," Viktor eventually nodded. "Everrybody knows it. Good zing that my happiness and my success in the games don't depend on yourr liking me orr not."
For a minute the whole audience fell into a religious silence. Stupor clouded the thousands of minds that had attended the game and it felt as if the whole wizarding world was staring at Viktor Krum in this very moment. Which was the point indeed. Hermione and her friends held their breaths.
"What do you… are you… you're not one of those…" Rita bleated like a goat.
Viktor gave a nonchalant nod, one hand on the stick of his broom, the other on his hip, looking as cool as his reputation said he was. All of his closest friends had to admit it was a spectacular and really classy way to come out, even though they would have preferred he didn’t need to in the first place.
"No, you are not," Rita stammered as if she knew better than him. "You… I-hm… you can't be! Prove it!"
Viktor grabbed a towel on a bench and dried his neck. "I have nozing to prrove to you norr to anyone, Miss."
Whispers and low voices started being heard around the stadium. Murmurs and hurried discussions. A feeling of emergency. Here and there, a few handfuls of spectators got up and walked out of the venue, unaware of the effect they had on Hermione whose blood boiled in her veins. Skeeter looked ready to eat her quill, at the peak of her disarray. A spell would not have made her more confused. She opened her mouth, closed it, repeated her gesture a few times like a fish struggling out of water.
Viktor tried not to look concerned by the audience's reaction but behind his strong facade Hermione and Ron could see how fragile he was. His breathing pattern was not as calm as he tried to make it. The champion of their hearts would need much love and tender care tonight.
"Wait!" Skeeter added like she was roused from an impromptu nap. "If you really are what you... say you are. If you went under a sex cheating spell, then your performances must have been affected. Was the federation aware of your fraudulent actions?"
“Sex cheating spell?” Hermione repeated softly with a disgusted pout. Was that woman living under a rock?
"Nozing frraudulent herre, Miss Skeeterr," Viktor smiled. "My guys and I get rregularrly tested, zerre has never been a single case of doping in ourr team. We win wiz honorr and talent."
Ron howled a loud cheer and clapped even louder to encourage others to do the same but the atmosphere was strange in the stadium. Unusual. The very same people who sang praises to their champion a few minutes ago were now hesitant and shy. A few hands clapped. The voices were hesitant.
"What is your woman's name then?" Rita asked again, her smirk getting cruel, probably already plotting all the horrors she would write. "What should we call you?"
Hermione barely contained the shocked gasp that flew from her lips and she squeezed Ron's hand so hard her nails left small indentations in his flesh. Unimpressed by the viper in front of him, Viktor nodded calmly.
"I don't have a woman's name because I am a man."
Rita shrugged, finding back her venomous tongue. "Or so you think. But…"
"You would zink it too if you werren't so narrow-minded. Do you have actual questions about quidditch and my worrk as a captain?" Viktor replied with the infinite patience of a unicorn mother.
Rita bit her lower lip. Her eyes shone with a bitter spark. "I understand now what led you to quidditch. Riding a broom makes the perfect phallic substitute for someone with your condition."
"That bitch!" Ron growled before he turned to his wife with a sorry look. "Oh crap, no, I mean…"
"No, no, you're damn right she is!" Hermione nodded furiously. For once she would let a sexist insult slip by because the situation was painful for all of them. How dared that old mule use the very arguments that had made muggles kill so many women of their community for centuries? This was all kinds of wrong, and idiotic, and ignorant, and…
"There are children here, Mrs Skeeterr!" Viktor stated in a dry tone, losing his fake accent. "Your unprofessional attitude forces me to shorten this interview."
He then proceeded to walk calmly towards the locker rooms, looking more collected than he probably was. Hermione had to admit this interview was a fantastic move: even if Rita wrote anything but the truth in her paper, thousands of people would have seen their exchange, other journalists had taken pictures and notes, and would provide more than one version of the story. Rita's words would be useless.
Although the next weeks would be difficult for Viktor, as well as the next hour in the locker room with his team, Hermione was relieved to know he would not have to carry the weight of this burden anymore. Now people knew him better than ever and he could focus on other more important tasks than not hurting their bigoted preconcieved ideas. Oh, they would never know the real Viktor Krum like his partners knew him, of course. Some secrets would forever belong to them: his soft sides, the way he curled like a puppy to cuddle them, his praise kink, the color of his cheeks when they told him they loved him, his pride when Hermione suggested he was smart, or when his 'Rronnie' laughed at his jokes. Now, at least, even the worst opponents to queer rights would know that they had once idolized and fantasized about a transgender man, and that everything they believed in, gender wise, was a myth. Viktor was free to move forward and publicly love every aspect of himself.
As their husband was about to reach the end of the field, Hermione heard Ron start to chant, low at first then louder, "Krum, Krum, Krum…" just likehe used to the year they met him at Hogwarts. Ginny and Harry immediately joined him in solidarity, and with a nostalgic vibrato in her voice Hermione followed them too. In a few seconds, half of the audience was chanting with them, while others looked embarrassed or downright angry.
.
It was very late, or rather early the next morning, when Ron and Hermione heard the door of their home open. As usual after a game, they had come home much earlier than their husband who always had so much to do. Curled up on the couch in a tender embrace, they were both working to distract their minds from an unwelcome anxiety. They had promised each other not to smother Viktor who hated to be infantilized, yet the moment they saw him walk in, noticed the bruise and the scratch on his cheekbone, they both jumped to their feet with anguished looks.
"Love, what happened?" Hermione asked breathlessly. "You're hurt!"
"Who did this?" Ron growled.
Viktor put down his bag and broom with a sigh. He brushed his fingers under his left eye, barely winced at the touch.
"Don't worry," he reassured them. "I threw the first punch."
Hermione slowed down, an eyebrow raised, but Ron threw his arms around Viktor's neck to hold him tightly. The captain easily lifted him up in his arms to carry him to the couch, covering Ron's freckled cheeks with kisses.
"Most of my guys had good reactions, some of them were curious,” Viktor explained. He laid Ron on the couch, settled between his legs for a full body hug. “They asked awkward questions that I don’t like to hear but they were nice. Most of their questions were about my trips to the Muggles world, it was not that bad."
Hermione nodded, took a step towards them, avoiding the broom that had been left in the center of the room. She had also asked many embarrassing questions back in the days, and she had tried to apologize once she understood how hurtful they could be. Questions coming from a pack of athletes still high on adrenaline must have been quite unpleasant.
Viktor rested his cheek on Ron’s shoulder with a sad look. "One or two guys were mad at me but they just stayed silent in the corner. Only Cameron was a total jerk. The team was curious, they wanted to see me without the spell. I agreed because that's how I will present myself from now on, but I kept my underwear on. I’m not ready to shower with them, not yet. They saw my face, my throat, my chest, one said it was cool to see the real me, asked how I got a beard, another said it was unfair that my muscles were not also a spell.”
“They’re jealous,” Ron smiled. He punctuated his words with lazy kisses over Viktor’s shoulder.
“And then… Camerron started talking about my body as if I were a girl,” Viktor grunted. “Told me the things he has told every woman he’s ever wanted before, he was crude and said what he could do to my supposed body parts and… I let my fists reply, for me first, and for all the women he has harassed before."
Ron mumbled, comfortably settled under Viktor's heavy frame. "He had it coming!"
Hermione rolled her eyes. She had never been fond of all the toxic masculinity and violence behind the scenes of quidditch, she found that energy dangerous and particularly bothersome in her partners, yet she knew she had to let Viktor handle his team the way he wanted to, even though she hated that, because he knew this world better than her and how to survive in it. She could not police his behavior there, he did what he had to do to be respected.
Hermione grabbed the kettle on the stove and prepared a cup of Viktor's favorite tea. "Tell me, if you knew Cameron acted like a boar around women why didn't you do something about it sooner?"
She knew she was provocative, and she did not mind at all. Viktor gave her a shy smile, looked down then admitted with a soft sigh, "Because I was an idiot, princess. An idiot trying to get loved and accepted by his mates."
He scratched the bridge of his nose. Hermione kissed the top of his head as she set the cup down next to him.
"I'll do better," he promised as an apology.
"I know, it’s okay, you alway did what you could," Hermione assured tenderly."We all do. I'm not perfect either."
Ron pretended to choke at her words, then squeaked as she walked away, "I beg your pardon??? What was that?"
"Yes, I said it," Hermione smirked.
She snapped her fingers to turn most of the lights off, to get ready for the night, and wrapped her shawl around her shoulders.
Ron pouted, still curled up in Viktor's arms. "Hey I don't like it! It's scary! Can you go back to your "I'm the best" attitude? I don't know that person… who are you and what did you do to my wife?"
"Oh, shut up Mr Granger!" Hermioned teased with a smile, knowing they would both follow her in a minute and beg for snuggles like touch deprived kittens.
.
The next morning, tired as one can be in a state of emotional hangover, all three partners realized what Viktor had started when they saw the amount of mail piling up in their living room -the home office was not large enough to contain everything. Ron quickly felt overwhelmed by the ridiculous amount of envelopes and parchments flying all around the room, so Viktor started swiftly catching them one by one, stacking them with moves that would have made any other catcher blush, while Hermione prepared labels, boxes, and a complex classification system to sort them all.
"Here," she explained in that military tone they knew all too well --and not so
secretly enjoyed. "On the left side of the room we'll put down the fanmail, on the right all official mail. Near the window all the positive letters, and all the hate letters will get in the fire!"
"Yes, Ma'am!" Ron agreed with a solemn nod, relieved to be led.
In less than forty-five minutes, they had opened all the letters and roughly sorted them. They agreed to take a well needed break, after having had at least a dozen howlers screaming death threats at them. Hermione was worried for Viktor. She knew all too well he would bottle up his feelings and try to look invincible in front of them, but some letters received reached an unthinkable level of violence. All of this because their idol, their model of masculinity was not born with the body type they expected? It was not about his actions or his choices, but the way he was. How could people think it was their right to condone one's identity, as if their opinion mattered?
They had tea on the porch, in a nervous silence. Hermione tried to ask Viktor how he felt but he simply replied with a soft grunt. He looked devastated. Ron held his hand and stroked him with his thumb.
When they saw another rather large and tired owl landing on the porch, they both expected the worst until Viktor whispered a small “благодаря” to the bird. He grabbed the small letter attached, opened it with a frown. It was another howler, so loud it made them all take a step backwards, and their hearts jump in surprise.
“VIKTOR, SON OF MINE!” a voice said with a strong Bulgarian accent. “I AM PRROUD OF YOU! YOU ARRE BRRAVE AND STRRONG! YOU SHALL ALWAYS BE MY WINNERR!!! MAMA.”
The howler left them speechless for a long time as they let their heart rates slow down. Ms Krum’s reaction, although impressive, was heartwarming and reassuring. The future was uncertain but Viktor knew the people who mattered the most were still there for him, he wouldn’t lack support.
The moment they expected it the least, Viktor mumbled, "Thank you for being there for me." Both his partners assured that they would always be. Then they agreed that Viktor should read all his positive letters himself because their content was aimed at him after all, but they would stay close, just in case he needed company. Ron picked some purchase orders to fill for the shop, Hermione some of her own paperwork, then they all settled together in the living room, silence only broken by the comforting noises of the fireplace. Times changed, they were adults now, had jobs, led successful lives, went on romantic dates without the need to hide, and got intimate in every possible corner of their house, but in moments like these, Hermione remembered some things were constant. Like the pleasure of quietly studying together, in the same place, surrounded by friends and loved ones.
Viktor started reading his letters, fan mails and official letters alike. Hermione could not help looking up sometimes to check on him. More than once he brushed a finger under his nose and quickly blinked to chase a tear away but she pretended not to notice. His chest let out heavy sighs from time to time. He put some opened letters on a pile to save them for later, carefully folded some others, big paws almost tender. After the chaos and violence of the first batch of missives, he seemed to find some comfort in kinder words.
When he got up after a long moment of serious silence, his red rimmed eyes blinked a bit too fast. Hermione gave him a tender look.
"Anything interesting?"
"Yes," Viktor nodded. He seemed to hesitate for a second, unsure of what to do, before he decided to plop himself down on the couch next to his girl. "Three LGBTQ journals asked for interviews, I could be on their covers. And WizzFit wants me for their new inclusive campaign. It's a diversity stunt but… their price is really interesting."
"It's representation, love, it's wonderful!" Hermione grinned before she framed his face with her hands and planted a loud smooch on his nose. "You're paving the way!"
Ron left his chair to join their pile on the couch, too happy to let go of his accounting work. "Maybe it's just marketing but at least they do want you for who you are."
Viktor nodded, cheeks blushing. As usual he was torn between his need for recognition and the fear of being the center of attention for too long. To be wanted for appearing as himself, though? The idea was appealing indeed. He scooted closer so that Hermione could hug him better.
She asked, fingers running in his short hair. "What about your fans? What did they say?"
"Some of those are… a lot to take," the young Captain sighed. He pointed his wand at the pile of letters until a leaflet flew towards them. Hermione grabbed it and started to read.
The story about this young transgender teen who considered taking her own life after having to endure so much bullying, and then found a last spark of hope when she saw Viktor's unapologetic interview, felt very real and deeply personal. Hermione's fingers stopped their gentle motion over her husband's cheekbone. She silently questioned him with a look.
"There are dozens like this one," Viktor sighed. "It's heartbreaking."
"I'm certain our friends in Hogwarts would love to invite you for a speech about acceptance!" Ron assured, from where he was snuggled against Viktor's side.
His pale cheeks turned red as Viktor grunted, "A speech?"
"I hope having to talk to people will remain the worst side effect of your coming out my love," Hermione nodded. "What about the other letters?"
Krum was not certain speaking in public could be called a lesser evil but he shrugged it off. "Many happy messages from the community, everyone wants me to show up at their queer events, or at their pubs, and they swear to cheer up their champion with free beer…"
"Does the offer extend to your dear husband?" Ron asked with an interested smirk.
Hermione caught Viktor’s soft pout, the most discreet hint of jealousy in his eyes, before he added, "There were also a few marriage proposals, either because they found me attractive or because they liked how I treated Skeeterr."
"Well, that was a productive day," Hermione smiled, now used to the effect her husband had on his fanbase. "How do you feel now, love of our life?"
"... s'complicated," Viktor admitted before he buried his face on the side of her thigh to hide his feelings he had not processed yet. "I would like to stay home with you guys for a while. My safe space. Then maybe plan the next moves."
Ron ran his fingertips up and down Viktor’s toned stomach, silence only broken by the sound of their quiet breathing. “What about you, in the kitchen, baking cookies? Or buns, or… whatever? A snack making snacks.”
Viktor shook his head. He rolled onto his back with a lazy smile to look at them both. “I was thinking about taking you for a ride, ginger boy, get some fresh air, show you how fast a real player flies…”
Ron could not contain his huge grin, as always extatic to fly with Viktor. He loved the speed, the feeling of freedom, and the long hugs in the air. It was like being a teenage fanboy again, except that now the idol was his to have and to hold.
“... then we could come home to our lady, and she’d keep reading to us the book we haven’t finished yet,” the captain added with a pleading look towards her.
“Oh, is that so?” Hermione smirked. “You already know how I’ll spend my afternoon? Making decisions for me, my heart?”
Viktor took her hand, bit his lower lip, and tried his best move. “Please, Hermi-own-ninny?”
With a loud shocked gasp, Hermione removed her hand, outraged by his traitorous approach. He knew she could not resist that sweet accent he had shed a long time ago! “Oh no, you don’t get to ‘Hermi-own-ninny’ me! You’re unbelievable!”
She pinched his earlobe to try and pretend to discipline him but he and Ron were laughing so hard they almost fell from the couch, holding onto each other like two idiots in love, and Hermione knew she would eventually read to them, because she loved them more than anyone, and she loved nothing more than to read a good book.