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Viktor frowned down at the parchment in his hand and read the letter a second time. Once again, it sent alarm bells through his mind, and he wondered if he understood it as he thought he did. The language potion his Papa had recommended he and the rest of their family take immediately upon returning home following the catastrophe of the Third Task was a good one and had granted Viktor much of the fluency for English he’d lacked during the year at Hogwarts, but a true understanding for nuance would take time to master.
As it was, though, he thought he was reading it correctly. And if so, it was time for a second opinion on the contents.
He sought out his quarry with the same single-minded focus he reserved for the snitch, knowing his Mama often lost herself in the labyrinthine corridors of their family home. It had been built by the Krums over many generations, digging down into the earth beneath its foundations and up into the stone of the mountains at its back, and now in Viktor’s lifetime, it was almost a rabbit warren. It was not as large as say Durmstrang or Hogwarts by any means, but it was plenty grand enough to house all of the extended family if needed.
And to allow one to easily hide away from any of the current residents if they felt a need for solitude, if, as now, the full family was indeed in residence and as loud and boisterous as the children attending those aforementioned schools.
It took two instances of ducking into side halls to avoid his cousins and one brief escape through a secret passage in the back of a coat closet to stay out of his great uncle’s clutches, but sooner than he might have expected, Viktor reached the out of the way office that was his Mama’s preferred sanctuary. She was staring thoughtfully at her chalkboard as a piece of chalk busily scribbled away under her scrutiny.
A brief glimpse told Viktor it was likely to be drafts of Quidditch plays, and he respectfully averted his eyes so as to avoid any cry of cheating from his family members. He was on Papa’s team for the summer visit, and Viktor had come by his competitive nature honestly.
Sure enough, as soon as she realized her son had entered the room, the chalkboard flipped itself over, revealing only her week’s calendar and to-do list. Only then did Elena Krum turn her attention to Viktor. “Yes?”
Viktor simply held out the letter to her to read, wanting her impression of Hermione’s words before he offered his own thoughts.
His mother raised her eyebrows at him, but took the letter without any further questions and began to read.
Dear Viktor,
I am so sorry, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to come visit you and your family next month as planned. I was very much looking forward to it, but, well, I’m going to be going to stay with some people – er, some friends due to everything that happened at the end of the tournament.
I don’t want to, honestly, but I’m just so worried, Victor. Harry has already been through so much, and I can’t abandon him. It’s bad enough that Professor Dumbledore doesn’t want us to write him at all this summer in case the letters are intercepted. I can’t stand the thought of not being there when he’s finally brought to – well, to where we’re all hopefully going to be. Until then, he’s alone though with his awful relatives and I just…
I hate this, Victor. I hate everything about the thought of Harry being left alone like this so much. He was so broken after the maze, and I can’t imagine this summer’s going to make it better. Probably quite the opposite, knowing what little I do about his relatives. But if Professor Dumbledore thinks it’s best, I can hardly argue with Harry’s guardian, can I? I just truly hate this. And I can’t say that to anyone else, you know? My parents don’t have the slightest idea of how bad everything has gotten in our world; they’d take me out of school for sure if they did, and then where would Harry be? And Ron is hardly the best at answering letters, so with the ban on letters to Harry… They’re boys and they’re so often idiots, but they’re my best friends. Well, my best friends aside from you now, I guess. I don’t think I’ve told you just how much your friendship matters to me, but it does, Victor. It really does.
I can only hope you’ll forgive me for cancelling our plans and that you’ll still write to me. Maybe over the winter holidays or maybe next summer we can try the visit to Bulgaria again?
I hope so. It’s nice to have the hope of something to look forward to with everything going so terribly.
I miss you. I’m sorry this letter isn’t happier or bearing better news. I hope to hear from you soon.
Sincerely,
Hermione
“Friends?” Mama asked, in English as she’d refused to speak anything else since her son took the potion. She, unlike several of his family members, was already truly fluent and had been the best of his conversation practice partners. Now though, he wished she might not be quite so conversant as to pick up on Hermione’s implications with regards to her relationship with Viktor. Or more accurately, what Hermione implied of a lack of a relationship. Viktor fought back a sigh.
He had hoped he’d made his intentions clear to his Hermione while still at her Hogwarts, but with this letter and the two others before to compare, he could no longer believe that. In his eyes, he’d been all that was blatant with his regard, and indeed, it seemed like his fellows at Durmstrang were aware, as were some of the Slytherins though they seemed unwilling to speak up, perhaps because of the likes of Malfoy and his loud opinions. Viktor had even allowed himself to kiss her, but only once, and that was a chaste thing, proper for the honorable courtship he had in mind. He would not have dared more than that even if she had been older. Perhaps the other students around them had not cared for the proprieties, even the Slytherin folk who thought themselves so much more refined than those with ‘lesser’ heritages, but Viktor knew his Hermione’s value. She deserved the utmost respect as shown by a true courtship with all that entailed.
Now he just had to convince her of that. He had hoped bringing her here to his home to meet his family would demonstrate his regard for her. His dedication too with his taking of the potion, and more, that his family supported the courtship by also imbibing so that they might more easily speak to her. If she was not coming, however…
Helplessly, he shrugged, knowing his Mama knew him well enough to read his thoughts on his face. She smiled wryly at him. “Indeed. Well, you will work on this when next you see her. Now, as to your other likely concerns…”
“Potter matters to her. But even if he did not, this seems… This seems like someone who needs a champion of his own, no? Before, when the Goblet chose him, I thought him of age like the rest of us. Small, but of age.” Viktor shuffled his feet, thinking on how explain what bothered him. “But if he wasn’t of age, then his guardian should have been able to refute the Goblet. And if that Dumbledore was his guardian all along?”
She hummed her agreement and finished the thought. “Then Potter’s guardian chose to allow his underage ward to compete in a tournament for adults.”
“Allowed it and lied to the boy about it.” Viktor scowled and rubbed his hands over his face, finally realizing the heart of his concerns. This was worse even than Karkaroff had ever been with Viktor. Sure, he had all but ordered Viktor to perform, both in tryouts for the Vultures while still in school and with the Tournament, all for the betterment of Karkaroff’s own perceived glory.
But Viktor at least had his parents to speak for him if those orders had grown all out of hand, and once he’d been of age? Well, then Karkaroff had nowhere near the control over Viktor as he might have thought he did. Sure, he had power over his student as Headmaster, but no more than that.
For this Dumbledore to have both the power of a Headmaster and of the boy’s guardian and so clearly be lying about at least one thing that Viktor had personally witness and now have both isolated and practically abandoned his ward after leaving the boy vulnerable to the horror of the end of the tournament. “If the man was responsible for Potter, he should have been responsible.”
“I agree, my Vitya, and you are right to have brought this to me. This Headmaster worries me. And that is completely aside from what Miss Granger implied about the boy’s family.” Elena read the letter again, more slowly this time. “What do you wish to do? We will support you however you need.”
Viktor felt his shoulders sag. He hadn’t doubted he would have his Mama’s support, but that didn’t make it any less of a relief to have it said aloud. “I think – I think I need to go to her, Mama. Go to her and offer my help for her friend. To at least win him free of his relatives if they are as awful as she thinks, though I do not know where I might take him after.”
“You should take him to Gringotts, Vitya. If he was judged adult enough to participate in the Tournament, he might be judged an adult in other matters.” Viktor stared at his mother, and she smiled again, this time a bit wickedly. “It would serve the headmaster right if his inaction there proved to free the boy of his guardianship, would it not?”
“Yes, yes it would,” he agreed.
Elena handed back the letter, then laid both her hands on her son’s upper arms. “Make your arrangements, my Vitya. Go to your lady and help her friend. You need to do this. For them, but also for yourself, I think. Yes, you must go.”
Ignoring the look of shock Viktor knew must be written across his face as he wondered if this might be one of his mother’s rare moments of Sight, she reached up and patted him on the cheek, then turned back to her chalkboard without another word. He watched her start to work again for only a few moments before turning and taking off back down the halls at a run.
He had a letter to send, then so many preparations to make. If all ran smoothly, he could see his Hermione in less than a week or so he hoped.
Dear Hermione,
There is much in your letter that worries me. I hope you will not mind that I come to visit you instead. I will see you soon.
Stay safe, my dear one.
Yours,
Viktor
…
He’d been right about the time it would take to make his arrangements. The Vultures coach hadn’t been thrilled Viktor was essentially taking leave so unexpectedly, but the season wouldn’t start until August aside from various summer exhibition matches and their reserve Seeker could use the time on the pitch or so Viktor had successfully argued.
Honestly, his own family had been more difficult to wrangle. They’d missed him last year during their summer visit what with the World Cup matches taking up so much of his time, and the fact that Hermione would not longer be visiting left them feeling even more cheated out of their planned amusements.
Viktor wondered how Hermione would have felt knowing she was expected to be prime entertainment for so many of his cousins. Perhaps it was for the best that they’d have time to visit without so many eyes on them.
Not that his visit would be anything likely relaxing or romantic if he was right about the danger her friend was in.
So be it.
Regardless, now, only six days after receiving her letter and two international port keys and an uncomfortable ride about the ignoble Knight Bus later, Viktor was standing in front of her house in the middle of the day, his traveling trunk beside him. It was a very nice house, he thought, though much closer to its neighbors and built in a far more linear fashion than the Krum manor house.
Now to just hope his letter had arrived in the interim and that she would not shut the door in his face. He doubted it; good manners would likely prevent that reaction if nothing else. But… but he hoped she’d be happy to see him, instead of merely tolerating his presence temporarily for the sake of manners.
He’d yet to reserve a room at any of the local wizarding hotels, but that was less because he expected to stay with her family and more because the gods only knew what might need to be done with Potter. Depending on the outcome of that, Viktor might be reserving two hotel rooms or else helping a fourteen-year-old to find an apartment of his own.
Viktor shook his head to chase the thought away. He was getting ahead of himself, and worse, he was allowing his nerves to delay his knocking on her door.
Swallowing against the sudden lump in his throat, Viktor forced himself to walk up to her front door and knock twice.
It opened to reveal that beautiful face that had so haunted his thoughts since the World Cup. Hermione blinked her lovely dark eyes at him. “Victor – you – you’re here.”
“Yes. Did you not receive my letter?” He asked, suddenly worried he’d appeared on her doorstep without any warning at all.
“No, I mean – yes, yes I did. I just…” All at once, she beamed at him, her smile lighting up her face like sunshine. Then she threw her arms around his shoulders, and Viktor wrapped his arms around her and held on tight. This was so much better than the welcome he’d hoped for. He let himself linger in the embrace a moment longer before set her back gently on her feet. She grinned up at him and started tugging him forward into the house. “Come in! Come in! Goodness, I’m not sure if – oh here. Just leave your trunk by the door. Do you know where you’re staying yet? Or –”
“Hermione,” he said, cutting off her near frantic babbling as gently as he could as she led him into a comfortable living area. She fell silent and bit her lip, blushing helplessly in a way he had to admit he enjoyed. “I don’t yet know where I am staying, no. There are things to consider, not the least of which if I will be staying someplace alone.”
“Why wouldn’t you be alone? I mean… you don’t expect me to stay in a hotel with you, do you?”
“No – no, my Hermione. Of course not. But your friend, Potter. I thought he might need to stay with me if we can get him safely away.”
Hermione sat down abruptly on the sofa as she stared at him, eyes wide. “You – you think we can get Harry away from his relatives? But Professor Dumbledore said…”
“I do think so, yes. And more I think we should.” Viktor sat himself down beside her and reached to take her hand. “I do not know your Headmaster as well as you do, Hermione, but there are things in your letter that concerned me. Especially when I considered his actions during the Tournament. I do not know why he wants Potter isolated, but I do not think there can be any good reason for leaving someone alone who has been through such terrible things. Or worse, leaving him with those who would treat him poorly as your letter seemed to indicate his relatives would. Did I understand your letter properly? I took a language potion to make sure I was more easily understood by you and your family, but I worried I still might be less than properly fluent, yes?”
“You took a language potion for me?” Hermione squeezed his hands and looked just as pleased by that fact as he’d hoped she might be. “Thank you. Though, oh, but I could always understand you, Viktor. I hope you know that.” Hermione’s face was open and honest, and Victor fought back a sigh.
“Hermione,” he said softly, careful to pronounce her name as properly as his language potion could manage. He took a deep breath, steadying himself to speak the truth of his regard for her in language as unmistakable as possible. “This past year at your Hogwarts, I was courting you. I still am courting you, and in time once we are both of age and out of school and at a place in our lives where such things will be appropriate, I hope that you will consent to be my wife.”
Her lovely brown eyes had grown wider and wider as he spoke, and she opened her mouth for what he was sure was a denial so he shook his head.
“You see, my dear one, you did not understand me as well as you thought.” Viktor shrugged. “Thus, the potion. If you choose to deny me, I would prefer it from a place of absolute understanding instead of a belief in my mere friendship.”
“I – I don’t know what to say.”
“You need not say anything as yet, Hermione.” He gave her a gentle smile, one only she and his immediate family had likely ever seen. “I already guessed it would be a long courtship at best. You need decide nothing at this moment except whether you wish me to leave once we have helped your friend, and if you do wish me to leave, whether you continue to wish to write to me.
She worried at her lip and gently tugged one hand free to rub her arm absently as she thought it over, and Viktor reminded himself to stay patient while the thoughts whirled around her busy mind. He’d had time to come to terms with the depth of his feelings for her, and while at the time, he’d thought himself transparent, it was clear his confession had caught her by surprise. He would need to allow her the time she needed, as well. “You’d still stay to help Harry, even if I – even if I don’t know what I feel right now? It’s not that I don’t like you – I do, very much. I just – I didn’t realize…” Hermione shrugged helplessly. “I’m just not used to someone wanting me at all, let alone enough to – to court me.”
Not for the first time, Viktor wondered if all the students at Hogwarts were blind to have missed what he saw so clearly right from the start. “I gathered as much by the response to your appearance at the Yule Ball, though I didn’t know agree with their astonishment.” She blinked at him and almost looked offended, so he explained. “Hermione, you were extraordinarily lovely that night, it is true. But you were not so much more lovely that you were not still so obviously Hermione. You had always been lovely to me. That night was no more or less than any other night, though you did look as if you enjoyed your pretty dress.”
“I –” Hermione blushed and fell silent, thinking it over in that busy mind he so admired. “Viktor, I like you. A great deal. I think I would like to be courted, now that I know that you are courting me, I mean. I don’t know how to go about it though, being courted, I mean.”
Viktor couldn’t help but grin so broadly his cheeks began to hurt. She hadn’t said no. She hadn’t said no. She’d give him the chance to court her properly with both of them aware and welcoming the courtship. It made him almost giddy with relief, but he kept his composure as best he could, knowing there were other issues at hand. “Mama can recommend a book, I believe. Or, once everything is handled with your friend, we can seek one out ourselves at the bookstore in Hogsmeade or perhaps Diagon Alley.” He furrowed his brow as he thought. “The Nation, too, might have suggestions. They often are called on to assist with marriage contracts if a courtship is successful. They are wise with such things. We can ask them when we take Potter if you wish?”
“I think I’d like that. Strict courtships aren’t really done on this side of things. Or if they are, they’re in specific circumstances.” Hermione shook her head, looking bemused. “You’d think someone would explain this sort of thing. Hogwarts desperately needs a Wizarding Culture class. Even some of the Halfbloods know next to nothing about this sort of thing, I’d guess.”
“We’ll learn as much as we can as we go.” Viktor squeezed her hand again, enjoying the simple fact of her there beside him within reach, despite the more fraught reason for his visit. “We’ll learn it together, yes?”
She beamed at him again, and mindful of the lack of a chaperone, he allowed himself to lean in for a single kiss, just as chaste as their first, but every bit as precious. Hermione sighed as he pulled away. “We’ll learn it together.”
Thus decided, the pair moved on to the issue of Potter’s near imprisonment with his relatives, and Viktor’s mother’s recommendation that they start with taking the boy to Gringotts. In hardly any time at all, they’d worked up a simple plan to retrieve him and then Apparate to the stationary store in Hogsmeade which Viktor thought he remembered as having an access portal to the Gringotts main London office. Hermione had been livid to realize what that odd black metal door in Scrivenshaft’s could be used for. She’d seen other students enter and exist there during Hogsmeade weekends, but none of them had ever mentioned it was a direct access to the bank. She’d muttered under her breathe for a few minutes regarding the way mundane born students were kept in the dark, and Viktor politely pretended not to hear her until she was finished and calm again. He was just glad he’d remembered the portal; trying to take Potter to Diagon Alley in the heart of wizarding London seemed like a recipe for disaster considering they were planning to essentially kidnap the boy.
But both he and Hermione doubted anyone would expect them to head farther from London before doubling back in that way through Scrivenshaft’s. At least they both hoped it would buy them enough time to reach the goblins’ sovereign territory.
That too had been something Hermione hadn’t known – that the bank functioned as a sort of embassy for the Nation. There’d been more muttering in response to that, something about ‘bins’ and ‘species-ist garbage’ and a few other words Viktor thought the language potion might have been struggling with due to British slang terminology versus the proper grammar of the English granted by the potion.
They’d left Viktor’s trunk at Hermione’s place after she placed a quick call to her parents’ office to tell the receptionist she was ‘going out with friends’ and might have dinner out and about. Viktor had wondered if her parents were normally rather blasé about Hermione’s coming and going, but he didn’t ask, not wanting to derail their departure any more than the discussion of Scrivenshaft’s had. They both had their wands and wallets tucked away, and Hermione had a messenger bag over her shoulder with some food packed inside.
“In case Harry hasn’t… I mean, he might need… He might be hungry,” she’d said, and Viktor felt anger rising a new at the thought that the slight, slim boy he’d competed against might not come by his small stature honestly.
It was a thought that fueled his focus all the way to the Mundane subdivision of Little Whinging, but there he found himself starting to falter.
The walk down the oddly identical streets was unnerving. Viktor had done well enough on the Mundane train followed by the ‘bus’ Hermione had decided was the most convenient transportation option since he did not have an image of Potter’s home to direct Apparition, but the communities they’d passed while on board had not quite had this sense of sterile uniformity. Viktor knew himself to have a decent sense of direction, but there was still the fear in the back of his mind that without a map, he might easily lose his way in such a place. Hermione had navigated the area with ease, however, despite never having visited the place before.
“I wrote him letters, and I looked up how to get here a few summers ago in hopes that maybe I could visit but Harry wasn’t allowed friends over or well… or friends at all, really. Not here,” she said, and Viktor ached for the bleakness in her voice.
If he hadn’t cared for Potter as a true friend of Hermione, the truth of the boy’s treatment at the hands of his family would have driven Viktor to sympathy at the very least. Enough sympathy, Viktor hoped, to have chosen the same course of action even without the personal stake in the matter.
“Privet Drive is the next right,” Hermione muttered, her head ducked down with her hooded jacket pulled up to hide her hair. He hadn’t told her, but Viktor hated it that way. Hated any time she felt she must make herself small, to take up less space, even for a reason such as the need to conceal her identity if Harry was more guarded than she expected him to be. Viktor wore what she’d called a ‘ball cap’ to hide a bit of his face, but the rest of the Mundane clothing he wore was likely disguise enough. He was not thought to have a close relationship with Potter despite competing against him in the Tournament. It was unlikely any magical folk would expect a famous Quidditch player so far from the pitch as Little Whinging.
An odd flicker caught Viktor’s eyes as he turned on the street, and he blinked before leaning down to wrap an arm about Hermione and whisper in her ear. “There’s someone on the other side of the street. They’re disillusioned but I saw the shape of them shift against those bushes.”
To her credit, she didn’t flinch or look toward the bush in question, she just kept walking steadily up the street toward their destination as she answered him just as quietly. “We’ll have to be quick then once we make it inside just in case. I hope they’ll mistake us for some of his horrible cousin’s friends at first.”
She was shaking slightly under Viktor’s arm and he held her a little tighter as they turned and walked quickly up the sidewalk to the front door of Number 4. Hermione knocked briskly, and while they waited for an answer, Viktor watched for the blur of a watcher across the street out of the corner of his eye. Whoever they were, they were keeping fairly still, and he hoped they would hold their post long enough for them to escape from inside the house.
Finally, what felt like an eternity later, the door opened and Potter peered out to see them, his eyes wide with shock to find Hermione standing there. Before he could say anything, she pushed forward, hissing for him to let them inside. Blinking and looking wildly from Hermione to Viktor, he stepped back to let them enter, shutting the door behind them quickly. “Hermione, what are you –”
“Harry, there’s no time. We’re getting you out of here but we have to go – now. There’s someone watching the house, but we couldn’t see who it was. They were disillusioned and –”
“I’m really leaving here?” he interrupted, clearly knowing Hermione well enough to know she might let the stress make her ramble on if he didn’t. Potter turned to Viktor, a desperate kind of hope warring with fear in his eyes. “You two, you’re here to – to take me away? Is that even allowed?”
“Who cares if it’s allowed, Harry. You should never have had to live here and you certainly shouldn’t have been left here alone with them after the Tournament. I’m sorry, I’m sorry I haven’t written. That’s part of it, why we’re here, I mean. I’ll explain everything once we’re away, but we have to hurry.” Hermione’s voice was frantic, and Viktor squeezed her arm again to comfort her.
He gave Potter what he hoped was something like an encouraging smile, then urged him, “Go. Pack everything. We will not return.”
“My trunk’s locked under the stairs. I’ll get the rest.” He turned and sprinted up to the first floor without another word, leaving Viktor and Hermione to survey the cupboard he’d indicated with its padlock on the small door. Viktor scowled at yet another sign of how wrong Potter’s life had been to this point, then unlocked the padlock with a wave of his wand and a hissed command. Hermione was the one to open the door, and she stood frozen for a moment, staring at what was inside. Viktor looked over her shoulder and felt that burning anger try to break free again at the sight of a small dirty mattress crammed into the cupboard under Potter’s trunk. There was only one reason for a mattress like that in a tiny room like this one.
Viktor took a deep breath in through his nose to steady himself, then reached in to pull the trunk from the cupboard. With another wave of his wand, the trunk and its contents were shrunk and deposited in Hermione’s bag. Viktor then slammed the door shut, not bothering to care that the padlock fell to the floor. Maybe one of the awful people who lived here would trip on it if he was lucky. It was only what they would deserve.
On the floor above, Viktor could hear things crashing as Potter threw things about, gathering whatever few possessions he had in his room. Viktor guessed no one else was in the house; they’d have come running at those crashes if not at the knock at the door. That was a relief, at least. Viktor wasn’t sure how well he’d handle meeting Potter’s relatives given how thin the boy was and with that mattress as further evidence against them.
Forcing the anger down as best he could, Viktor moved past Hermione to stand closer to the front door in hopes of gaining warning if someone approached. Above them, the crashes finally slowed and then stopped, and he heard a door slam, followed by the sound of footsteps as Potter started down the stairs.
But just then, Viktor’s ears, just as trained to listen for the whistle of a bludger as his eyes were for the movement of the snitch, caught the sudden sound of running footsteps heading up the sidewalk in their direction.
“They’re here,” Viktor snapped and reached for Hermione, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Potter!” The boy came thundering the rest of the way down the stairs at the shout, a battered backpack over one shoulder and an empty owl cage in one hand. “We’re out of time. Hold on to me, both of you. Now!”
Potter lunged forward and wrapped his free hand around Viktor’s arm, holding on tight as someone hammered at the front door. In the moment before he spun on his heel with his two passengers hanging on for dear life, the weight of the responsibility for their lives crashed over Viktor stealing his breath for the space of a heartbeat. If he was wrong about Gringotts – if the boy wasn’t allowed his freedom…
Then the door was crashing open under someone’s spell, and Viktor Apparated, the three of them disappearing before they could even see who it was that had sent the spell.
The horrible house vanished around them, and in the space between one breath and the next, Viktor knew that whatever came next, the three of them would face it together. He could not regret this rescue and so would not regret what lay ahead of them.
And by the gods and Hermione’s determination and Viktor’s own will, Potter would never return to that place.