Work Text:
- Ominous music plays -
Viktor Krum, pureblood, superstar, self made old money rich boy, is not happy. He stands on what remains of the deck of a speedboat, his hands on his hips, the bare skin of his back browning nicely. So many moles he has, and they're all greedily drinking up sunlight. They're in the shape of a racing broom, stretching from right shoulder to left hip. That's how his parents knew what he would grow up to be.
But back to his problem. His father's speedboat is buckled, scrunched up like a can of muggle soft drink, and stuck halfway through the boulder it hit at full speed. It's a miracle he's found anywhere to stand.
- Ominous music continues to play -
The young man he's standing over, blinks assymetrically, and groans. "I plead extenuating circumstances."
"Being shot with an arrow does not excuse you from wrecking my father's boat, Yuri. I'm sending Karkaroff a bill."
"Good luck." The one so named, attempts to sit up, but his hand slips in a pool of blood, and an expletive escapes his lips, causing his best friend to shriek and leap back, unwittingly dodging a flying arrow and almost tripping off the back of the boat.
"Language! My ears are delicate!"
- Ominous music plays LOUDER -
Yuri, halfway through ripping an arrow out of the meat just below his sternum, narrows his eyes and glances toward the distant green shore. What he sees lurking there leaves no time for any sophisticated action.
"Cука блять!"
"Ah!" Automatically clapping his hands to his ears, Viktor leaps away from his vulgar friend even more, right off the boat, evading the arrow aimed for his head. It flys past harmlessly, hitting and shattering on the rock, it's pieces scattering across the deck.
- Ominous music slinks away, embarassed -