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I didn't mean to do it….No, that's a lie. I definitely meant to do it. I meant to do it so hard that I planned it out down to the instant when everything would change and a new path would open up in the tangled thicket of thorns and sunflowers called 'life'. Hermione had a machete in hand, and by Merlin was she going to use it!
The only problem - my opponent was a living, thinking person and not a 2D character from a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure book, and I couldn't make him dance to my tune like I could make ancient runes disclose their secrets, although it took just as much work sometimes to draw words out of Yuri Karkaroff's mouth. Viktor liked to yap, when he liked you. Meanwhile, even if he liked you (I flatter myself, but it's true) Yuri liked to say nothing, and simply stare. Both of these things were new to me.
Poor Viktor, he didn't deserve what I did to him. He didn't deserve it, so, I made sure to work on getting him set up with the girl he actually loved, but that would be then, first I had to steal myself away from him and force myself into the hands of another, an exceedingly delicate task, like brewing polyjuice potion, or something worse than that even, as what I intended to do could have explosive results, literally.
It was the ship, you see. I wanted it. Needed to be near it. But walking around on the shore of the Lake at all times of the day and night was not only bad for my studies, but also bad for my reputation. No one knew Viktor had a thing for me (although they should've) and no knew I had a thing for Viktor('s friend), and that they definitely should not have, but even people as stupid as Malfoy's cronies would work it out if I began prancing around the shore, serenading the ship. They'd be so crass and small minded as to believe I was serenading a boy. Imagine that.
I formed my plot the instant I arranged all the pieces and knew how things stood over on the foreign side of the Slytherin table. So maybe I hung around the library more than I needed to once I noticed a pro athlete doing the same. Maybe I shot him an encouraging glance here or there, and while I didn't need him to invite me to the Yule Ball, I did need him hooked, because it would not be the done thing for me to walk up to his friend him and ask him out. I could tell, just from looking, that that wouldn't fly (excuse my pun.)
As it so happened, Viktor's slow and steady style of attack eventually caused my target to do what I would have done in the same situation, if I had to be the wingman for Harry or Ron (luckily, I am not a man, and so I have never ever assisted them in their clownish relationships in any way) and ask me out for him.
"Viktor thinks you're cute." - the first words Yuri spoke to me. Like Viktor - a couple feet away and behind a shelf - he was forcibly occupying the library. But unlike Viktor (again, behind the shelf to my right) he not only spoke fully functional English, but also stood staring down at me from a few inches away, smirking coldly ever so slightly, emphasising the Rasputinish creep factor he shared with his father. I liked it, even aside from the fact that I was intending to use him to get to the ship.
Now, to yank the line and make sure the hook in the fish's lip was stuck deep.
"Who's Viktor?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at the magical World War Two army officer whose steel chest cavity I had been attempting to root around in ever since he stomped into the Great Hall at the side of Durmstrang's headmaster.
It was extremely difficult. I'd already broken several nails attempting to make a grab for his (presumably fleshy) heart while he was working his way through the feminine ranks of Hogwarts. Not cool, not cool at all. But for that ship I'd break all the nails and hearts I needed to.
Karkaroff's aide's chin tilted further towards the ceiling, along with his imperious Roman nose. "Hmpf. The Viktor. Viktor Krum." He didn't need to say 'you're a manipulative little wench', because his obsidian gaze said it more than adequately enough. Thank God that a man hating your guts does not preclude that same man possessing an intense desire to make you his.
"…Ooh. Well, he's rather handsome himself." I said, with a sneaky smile and a toss of my head.
A noise like a 'yes!' in some Slavic language, and a fist pump sounded from behind the bookshelves, while my actual target's eyes widened and his jaw clenched, exacerbating the attractive gauntess of his cheeks. I'm pretty sure that at that moment he was imagining lashing me with a whip.
But I could work with that. Just watch.
⚓🙂↔️⚓
"Hermy-own…Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me?"
Upon hearing that I thought he was handsome (which is when he shoved over the obscuring bookshelves to ask me to the Yule Ball, shoving his best mate aside in the process, and into a jar of ink) Viktor Krum promptly also asked me out to a bunch of other places. Little did I know what this would entail, but much pleased was I when I did understand.
"Is he…your handler?" I asked, when Viktor presented himself in the trees bordering the path to Hogsmeade, accompanied by Karkaroff's aide. At that point I didn't know what his actual name was, so I called him what everyone else did. The pair of them appeared to be a couple werewolves in vaguely human form, furry predators standing on their hind legs and staring at me from amongst a stand of spicy pines, their dark eyes like four black holes pulling in all the light.
"Who is he?" asked the celebrity. His face transformed whenever he saw me, going from hard to soft, grumpy to happy, intimidating to adorable. It hurt to see, knowing as I did that I meant to use him. Already was using him.
"Your friend."
"Huh?" Viktor turned his head to stare at his mate, and I realised he was tipsy. "Huh? Oh. Yes. He is my handler."
"No, I'm not. I'm your wrangler." Yuri shot back, in his dead voice, his equally dead eyes on me.
From there the guys descended into rapid-fire Russian.
"What?"
"Wrangler. You're an ickle baby calf, Vitya. And I'm a cowboy trying to keep you in line."
"You're an asshole, is what you are."
"Don't say such words in front of your crush. She might, like me, come to believe that you're a crass barbarian."
"…What?! I beat you!"
They began to play fight, throwing punches and grabbing each other's coats and falling about the snow drifts between the trees, falling out of my sight. I waited it out, because I no longer had the luxury of simply walking away, as I did whenever Harry and Ron got into a dispute.
"Anyway, this is nice." I said, when the three of us were escounced in Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, with myself sitting beside Viktor and more or less opposite his pal, who changed between staring at every other female in the place, staring at the tablecloth or wall, and staring at me, by this tactic ending up at the end of the hour with a bundle of names and addresses scribbled prettily on napkins with lipstick. Really, Viktor was no innocent if he was naive enough to bring a Lothario on a date with him.
"Da!…I mean, yes. It is nice." he said, grinning woozily. He really was quite cute when he smiled.
"…" said my target, looking neither gloomy nor happy, but just there. Even when a pretty woman sailed by and giggled at him, the accepted mating call of the human female, his blank expression did not change.
I sat back and thought of the ship. I could deal with an empty vessel (ha) in exchange for proximity to the ship. And, assuming my ploy didn't destroy their friendship utterly, Viktor would still be around to amuse me with his antics.
⚓🙂↔️⚓
Dragons. And for the First Task too, implying that dragons are the least extreme of the three. Hogwarts, I love you, but sometimes you frustrate me greatly. Viktor, being the darling that he is, stood up for me while the guy I was actually after flirted with Fleur (and then Rita Bloody Skeeter) by staring at them in silence. Meanwhile, he snorted at me, curled his lip, and looked away. That was still something I could work with.
"Herm-own-ninny, look, a dragon." Viktor thrust his toy Chinese Fireball or whatever at me while I was staring at his friend and Harry was yapping in my other ear.
"That's nice, sweetie," I plucked at his Durmstrang jumper, accidentally copping a feel of his muscles, which made him grin. He was tipsy again, of course. "Listen, Viktor, why is your mate such an ice queen?" I asked, keeping my gaze on Yuri, who stood with Karkaroff across the way, the man whispering into his ear in what looked like a highly uncomfortable fashion. Any second and the headmaster would approach Viktor to be creepy with him instead, and I would have to flee.
"Huh?" the Bulgarian Bonbon looked up from the tiny dragon flinging fireballs at his highly insured thumb and fingers. "Oh. Because he is Russian."
"Oh. I should have guessed."
Bullshit. Russians are volcanoes lightly sprinkled with icing sugar. But I was beginning to suspect that Viktor was a himbo.
Regardless, I found my way to the stands, where I sat with Ron, until he passed out the instant Viktor stepped onto the field. Luckily, a black booted foot kicked him off the seat and another, older body took his place. Together we would have the distinct pleasure of watching the Viktor Krum hit a dragon in the eye with a conjunctivitis curse.
"I know what you're doing," Yuri, when he did speak, spoke very softly, so you found yourself leaning in and focusing all your attention on him, excluding the rest of the world entirely. A clever trick. Even I fell for it, the roar of the crowd and the pompous voice of Ludo Bagman fading to nothing.
"And you don't like it?"
"I didn't say that."
"Some friend you are."
The Durmstranger didn't whip me verbally for that cheeky bit of hypocrisy. He did much worse, striking me with a dulcet glance from brown eyes I imagined were soulful because they were housed in a beautiful frame, the expression hitting like a volley of cannon shot from that galleon down on the Lake, blowing a hole in my chest through which water began to rush.
Dammit. Dammit!
"Dammit!" I shrieked, my cry of frustration and pique covered up by the roar of dragon and crowd both.
"He was supposed to use his flying abilities, but he drank too much and forgot, I suppose," Yuri said around some salt and vinegar crisps as a blithe commentary on the Krum-like figure dodging the enraged stamping and furious fireballs of a blinded dragon. "The Headmaster will hit someone with a switch for this later."
I was hooked. "Do tell me more. Especially about your ship. Tell me all about that. Also, what hair care products do you use to tame your curls? Your hair's so long, it must be a pain. I must know how you control it."
We enjoyed a lengthy conversation about this and that, up until Harry showed up.
"There's only one thing I swear by, but it's imported. For you it won't-" A frown briefly disturbed the placid skin between my co-conspirator's eyebrows, and then he stood up and unceremoniously kicked me, me, Hermione Granger, onto a still unconscious Ronald Weasley. It hurt, because Ron is all bones.
Screams and the exploding of wood and the whoosh of fire interrupted my consideration of Ron's gangly form, as I came to understand that a dragon had flown through the stand I had lately been sitting on. Sawdust rained down upon the arena, creating a lot of work for Madam Pomfrey. Screams changed to utterances of 'wow!' and 'cool!' once the great beast had flown off, after Harry.
"I thought you were dead." I said, after climbing to my feet, no thanks to Yuri, who was staring at Parvati by then. Luckily, there was a huge chasm in the stands that I doubted he would attempt to ford, if only because leaping and jumping around like an emo deer was an uncool Viktor thing to do, not a cool Yuri thing.
"The boat, Hermione. Think of the beautiful beautiful boat." I repeated to myself, as across the arena from me at the Judge's Panel, Igor Karkaroff gave my best friend a zero.
"Ship," muttered Yuri, the cold breeze playing coquettishly with his furs.
⚓🙂↔️⚓
The Yule Ball duly rolled (ha) around, and I, armed with Yuri's recommendation for hair control (which worked like a dream but took forever, making me wonder how much work he actually did in a day), went to meet my Nutcracker Prince Charming.
"Hermy-own, your hair looks amazing," Viktor sniffed, his face transforming into that of a randy tom's. Behind him, his bestie stared at the giggling river of passing ladies. "It smells amazing too, and oddly familiar."
I giggled.
We had to dance, slow dance, but, luckily, Durmstrang included Dance as part of its evil dark murder curriculum, and I had to do nothing but let Viktor lead.
"Haha, this is fun," he said, grinning at me as I kept an eye on the young man dancing behind his back. At least it wouldn't look weird if I danced with Yuri, since he would go on to dance with every double x chromosome haver in the Hall, and even some x y havers too.
Yes, I was beginning to regret having to hurt Viktor, but it turns out that there was a solution for that.
"I propose an exchange." Yuri rolled up his sleeves, almost getting himself blasted out of the bush we were huddling for warmth in when by so doing he revealed snake tattoos slithering up and down his forearms.
"I'm not a Death Eater, I just look like one!" he objected.
"So why do you have snake tattoos?!" I shouted, my knees on his chest, my wand in his face, snow showering down on us. Making snow angels like that in the open was a very bad idea, as sad, lonely Snape could show up at any moment.
"Because they're cool." The snakes (accompanied by butterflies and flowers...and skulls…) continued to twist up and down his forearms, moving continually. I hadn't seen a Dark Mark, only heard of them, but I knew it involved the same symbol projected by Morsmordre. Oh well, the ink in his skin was extremely expensive, if not done for free by someone who knew how to brand cult members. But since I wasn't being shot in the face with a spell, I was willing to trust.
"Hmm…true," I let him up and we returned to the bush. An extra strong bush fortified against incel potions masters. "What is this exchange you propose?" I hoped it involved a kiss.
Karkaroff's aide fired another volley of a look at me through the icy green dimness of the bush. "Vitya is in love with a girl-"
"Oh, God-"
"Not you."
"Oh…oh. Okay. Phew. I guess."
Yuri blinked, then carried on. "There are problems, but I want to get them together. Help me do that, and you can have me."
"How am I supposed to help."
"How do you think? Keep doing what you are doing. Associate with him. Let him play Prince Charming."
"So you're saying Viktor is using me to make this girl jealous?!"
"Yes. Although I'm sure he likes you too. But it's just not the same as the first love…" My companion turned his head to peer past the leaves of our shrub at nearby refuges from the cold night. Some of them were being obvious about what they contained.
"Will this deal be sealed with a kiss?"
"If you like."
A marriage of convenience with a possibly maybe Death Eater Casanova wouldn't be so bad, I thought, upon receiving my first ever kiss from the lips of an experienced older boy. I just had to know what I was getting myself into.