Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Bulgarian Mascara	By : DeniPie Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 3295 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Bulgarian Mascara
- 1
Ok, well I’ve been contemplating a harry potter fic for some
time now and I decided to finally get it out there. For those who are following
my works, yahoo continues to deny me access to my own email account. I’m trying
to work w my internet explorer email(which sux incomprehensible amounts of ass)
so I can get a hold of yahoo and find out what’s going on and if they deleted
my account. I’m just telling this so when/if I ever actually do get my account
back I’m not gonna b welcomed by a flood of pissed off hate mail raving how I’m
so obnoxious and not responding to them. I’ve been thinking of transferring my
email host to hotmail, any reviews about that server? I am also a person who
fears and is paranoid about change, so in regard to that, this is a huge step
for me -_-. N.E.wayz, I’m done, enjoy the fic my lovlies!

Much luv

The Deni Pie

p.s. Takes place in GoF.

WARNINGS!: This contains juvenile sexuality. Not juvenile as
in immature and childish but juvenile as in underage. If you are offended by
this then you can do either 1 of 2 things.

1: Adhere to the warning and click your ‘Back/Return’ button
and find something else that you’d rather read.

2: Remember that these are FICTIONAL characters and do not
exist and simply continue reading the fic.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything relating
to it. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling.

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B u l g a r i a n M a s c a r a

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It would
appear God had an uncanny, if not slightly morbid, sense of humor. Hermione
spared the seemingly innocent lake a cynical frown. First she was a witch that
couldn’t fly and now, evidently, she was also one that refused to swim. It
couldn’t be helped really, once you thought about it. How was one supposed to
react after being given the details of the hours they spent trapped at the
bottom of a vast body of water, the same body of water inhabited by a giant
squid no less! She tried to forget it, really she had. But now every time she
came in contact with a pool larger than a rain puddle she was plagued with the
images of her immobilized body ensnared beneath the lake, bobbing helplessly
for air that would never come from the miles of aquatic oblivion above her.

Hermione
shuddered at the thought before brushing it off and continuing on. She
sincerely doubted the faculty and Dumbledore would ever put her in any fatal
danger. But of course, after Cedric, one couldn’t help the insufferable little
doubts poking at the back of the head. After that incident, Hogwarts no longer
had that ambiance of impenetrability. After that incident, the realization hit
the students like a punch to gut; they’re invincible stronghold was just a
school, just another building in the magical realm. It wasn’t a fortress ordained
by The Divine Powers that Be. It was a construction of mud, brick, and glass.
And each, as far as she knew, could be broken.

When
reminiscing of broken and dying things she couldn’t help being reminded that
she was part of neither category. And she couldn’t fight the twinge of guilt at
her ingratitude for the one that had, in all probability, ensured that fact.
No, she hadn’t been all that grateful at all. As she so recalled, she’d merely
brushed him aside to applaud and fret over her friend. Granted she had no
regrets over her worry for Harry, but she did wish she had some how handled it
better and balanced the two out. The tournament came to an end and now so did
the neighboring schools’ visit. They would depart tomorrow and so would her
chance to make amends and not feel too horrid for the summer. She could already
see the disappointment in her mother’s eyes and the knowing lecture about her
insensitivity she was sure to give her if she didn’t at least make the effort
to apologize for her tactlessness.

It was
cold, and gray, and quite bitter that afternoon. She had looked, but could find
the sun nowhere insight. It made her wonder whether or not the clouds really
were blocking it, or if it had actually vanished altogether. But that was just
silly. Tucking her thicker robes more
tightly around her, she hiked her shoulders up so her muffler covered her chin.
Her winter robes weren’t doing the trick these days. She would have to write
back for more, later though. She was sure the cold wasn’t doing anything she
would appreciate with her hair either. The few times she’d looked in the mirror
that day it was more gnarled and volumous than before, even her strongest brush
refused to go through the unkempt locks, so she gave up. All the fuss was
probably making it worse anyway. In the end she simply twisted into a sloppy
travesty of a bun and stuck a pencil through it to make it stay. Loose, static
covered tendrils, looped down her neck and some fuzzed into her face, but it
was better than the ‘before picture’ it made.

The
Durmstrang ship gradually grew and became its original massive vessel of
warlike intimidation the nearer she came. The enormous construct was still in
its dock moored in the lake, though she knew that wouldn’t be the case, come
tomorrow. She could see several Durmstrang students loitering nearby their
ship. Many were grouped around a pair engaged in some harmless wrestling,
though it looked more brutish than anything Hermione had seen. Then again she’d
never grown up with any brothers, so what did she know? Ron had probably been
the victim of many such matches, and he was more than likely a lot less of a
willing participant than these two. Approaching the small foreign flock, her
eyes skimmed the area, scouting for anyone that didn’t appear too occupied.

Her
attention settled on a thick, hulk of a boy amusedly watching the spectacle,
though he didn’t look so enraptured that he couldn’t be taken away for a
moment. She had seem him with Viktor once or twice and wondered if they were
friends. Moving towards the group until she stood at his side, she put a
confident hand on his shoulder to get his attention. “I beg your pardon, but
you wouldn’t have happen to seen Viktor about, have you?”

His eyes
flickered to her briefly before he turned to her at the question. He glanced
down at her with the same amusement he’d shown to the grabbling wrestlers. She
didn’t know whether he was amused at her impeccably short height or the almost
commanding voice with which she’d spoken to him.

“Kak, Vie sapruga Viktor, da?” He chuckled, his eyes
laughing at her.

Hermione
blinked, taken aback by the unrecognizable language tumbling out of his mouth.
“Excuse me?”

“Do not tease her, Ivan.” Came a stern voice, scolding, who
she could only guess was, Ivan in front of her.

Another
young man, with rather fleshy lips she noticed, came up to the pair, frowning
reprimandingly at the mischievous boy. “My apologies, I haff seen Viktor on the
ship last time I looked.” He directed to her, gesturing towards the hull.

Hermione
nodded gratefully following where he pointed. “Thank you.”

The other
young man grabbed her elbow before she could get very far. “Vould you like me
to show you to his room?” He asked helpfully.

“Oh! Yes, I would like that very much, thank you.” Stupid,
she had been about to run off without even knowing where it was she was
supposed to go.

“Follow me.” He said curtly heading off in front of her.

Following
close behind him, she only hesitated when he stepped onto the ship. He stopped,
looking back at her pause. Quickly shaking herself of her childish paranoia she
stepped onto the boarding and continued after him. The liner was dark, dank,
and dripped in certain places. It also seemed colder in here than it did
outside. But she supposed it must not bother them much, coming from such a cold
climate and all. More students passed by them, all having the same stern faces
she’d come to associate with the Durmstrang population.

“Vatch your feet. Do not slip.”

She glanced
up at the abrupt instruction and made sure she did as he warned. They turned at
the last minute, and he did so almost mechanically, without fault, like it were
nothing more than a soldier march. As a matter of fact, that was another trait
she’d begun to notice in most students from Durmstrang. Most had a rather harsh
walk, as if gravity bore down especially hard on them. Viktor, though, appeared
most out of touch, what with his rather duckish movements. It was hard to
believe he was the same person that could possess such Godlike grace in the sky
when just maintaining his balance on land was like an unnatural feat for him.

Her guide
stopped so suddenly she had to catch herself from plowing right into him.
Regaining her footing she stepped back and noticed they’d halted in front of a
cabin door.

A large
masculine hand rose to rap his knuckles against the wood. The knocking echoed
briefly before being swallowed up by the damp and mold lining the walls.
“Viktor! Ti priyatel ist hier!” He announced.

Hermione
waited patiently, even when no response came and he frowned confusedly at the
door. He twisted the knob and it turned without hindrance. Pushing the door
open, slightly, he scanned the room, finding it empty. “He is not in his room.
Perhaps he is still on the boat. Vould you like to vait for him? I do not think
he vould mind.” He suggested opening the door wider for her.

Considering
her options and consequences in her head, she shifted a bit uncomfortably. She
didn’t want to intrude… “I do need to speak with him..” She mumbled more to
herself. “Yes, yes I think I will.” She asserted with a resolute nod. “Thank
you for all your help.”

“It is no trouble.” He waved off. “If I see him I vill tell
him you are vaiting.” He said before bidding her goodbye and going back down
the corner.

She stood
outside the room for what she could guess was a long while, simply staring with
a weary eye. It was like a place forbidden to her, the line drawn with bright
red tape. It reminded her of the scolding she received from her grandmother
when she went into her room without permission. Plus, she had never been
in a boy’s dormitory before. Well, a boy that wasn’t a relative, anyway. The
Gryffindor common room was the closest she’d ever gotten. Unconsciously taking
a deep breath, she stepped over the threshold, stopping quickly as though
expecting the quick iron fist of punishment to come raining down upon her for
breaking the unspoken rule.

Of course
she knew no such thing would really happen. But gender profiling was a hard
master to overcome. She stood in place for another long moment before
cautiously moving a few feet away from her original spot. This was not a place
familiar to her, it was not her room, or her home, so it was expected that she
would feel somewhat, even very, awkward in an area years of gender
stereotypes and role brainwashing would frown upon her being in.

After about
ten minutes of nothing but standing, her feet began to ache and her mind grew
bored with nothing to stimulate it. Finally, a varied mix of the prior
irritations overthrew her initial unease and Hermione hesitantly started to
walk around the small space. She told herself it was just to shake off the
tingle of her foot falling asleep, but she couldn’t stop her eyes from roving
around the sparse assortment of trinkets and knickknacks here and there. Either
Viktor was neurotically neat or he was simply a light packer. The room was bare
with the exception of a small bed, a nightstand and lamp, a petite dresser, and
a miniature bookshelf. No clothes haphazardly strewn about, no socks slung
carelessly off the backs of chairs, no dirty underwear hanging from the lamp,
no rubbish overflowing the bin.

The corners
of Hermione’s lips turned somewhat resentfully. Why couldn’t she have gotten
dorm mates like this? No, instead she was stuck with Parvati and Lavender. She
was stuck with useless makeup and female junk constantly littering her
side of the bathroom. She was stuck with the bras they didn’t even need yet
purchased anyway just to say they had them slopped on her side of the
room. She was stuck with every kind of hair product and spot cream smearing the
vanities and sink, and always on her side of them. And worst of all, she
was stuck with having to look at gnarled and grotesquely twisted tubes of
toothpastes laying pitifully next to the sink knobs without their caps and
gooey residues still oozing out and hardening around the openings. Lavender had
once run out of her own and tried using hers. But she had thoroughly railed the
girl to tears when she came back to find the cap off and irreconcilably lost.
The tube had been squeezed from the middle instead of the end and the paste was
already crusting around the top. She promptly demanded the other girl buy her
another or she would tell everyone what exactly it was she used to make sure
the bra she didn’t need stayed in place on her chestless body.

Once the
new tube was purchased neither spoke of it again. Though now, she would never
have to worry about Lavender, or Parvati for that matter, using her toothpaste.
It was a small, rather Pyrrhic, victory but she was outnumbered and would just
have to take whatever triumph she could get. At least they had no interest in
the rest of her things, such as her brushes and clothes. Parvati had already
proclaimed her distaste for Hermione’s modest and somewhat plain clothing, much
more preferring Lavender’s flashy, and in Hermione’s opinion garish, robes,
short tops and ever shrinking skirts. Perhaps she could somehow request the
headmaster to put up a ward against such gaudy attire and worthless teen
rubbish making it to her side of the room. It would take some incessant
petitioning backed up by well thought out essays and evidence but she could get
it done. Dumbledore was nothing if not fair.

As anyone
could predict, the books lining the small shelf caught her attention and lead
her to them like a succulent feast to a starving man. She had to kneel to see
the titles on the spines and was vastly disappointed to find it all written in
odd caricatures. Her brows furrowed in concentration, eagerly skimming through
the labels, trying to ferret out anything understandable. Finding none she gave
a disappointed sigh and rose to her feet. Crossing her arms feeling a bit jaded
by her loss; she suddenly spied another book, a bigger, much thicker one on the
nightstand.

The heading
on the front was a mix of the strange letters she’d discovered on the other
ones and English. ‘Bulgarian to English dictionary and Encyclopedia’ Her
fingertips ran over the words and then the unrecognizable signs above it. The
symbols must be Bulgarian and the English was probably the translations.

Hermione
sat down delicately on the bed, crossing her ankles, happy to have something
familiar occupy her time. The book looked worn and possessed many underlined
sentences and definitions she noticed as her thumb flipped through the pages.

Every now and then she would encounter a folded page he
obviously had wanted to save and she would find a few other pieces of paper,
most likely his scrap work, tucked between chapters.

Her moral
compass told her she shouldn’t peek at his work. It was not a big deal for Ron
or Harry or most of the school’s populace but she just didn’t think it was
right. She didn’t like sharing her work with other people and thought it
offensive when others did so. Unfortunately, since aligning with the Golden
Trio she found that her curiosity and quest for knowledge often overpowered
said moral compass. Slipping out one of the scrap papers nestled between the
pages, she was careful to avoid paper cuts and set it out on the book in front
of her.

The paper
was littered with foreign scribbles and broken English translations he had
pieced together. She was interested in the seemingly simple phrases jotted down
and tried to see if she could pronounce them herself. “It is nice to meet you.”
She started with the English definition and jumbled over the Bulgarian origin
that was thankfully spelled and re-spelled in English letters. “Pree-yah-t-no
my eh?” She reiterated self-consciously. She hated sounding stupid, which she
probably would to anyone who actually understood the language she was now
mutilating.

After
trying a few more times she gave up and simply began reading the rest of the
work. Turning it over she saw that more signs and letters were written on the
back. It only appeared to be the same paragraph written over and over, the
mistakes gradually being weeded out with every repeat. Her eyes widened as she
recognized the conversation on the page.

‘How are you?’

‘My name is Viktor.’

‘What is your name?’

‘I have often been coming into library to see you. I am
trying to get courage to ask a question. I would be honored,’ She noticed
that the word ‘honored’ had been scribbled out and replaced with ‘happy’ before
being crossed out once more and re-written as honored again when he finally
made up his mind. ‘if you would be my partner for the Yule ball.’

It was
practically their entire dialog the day he had actually asked her to the ball.
Granted the real thing had contained some other bits of English conversation
he’d probably learned in school but she couldn’t help the swell of surprise and
warmth she felt knowing that he had studied asking her to be his
date. She also took note that most of
the underline phrases in the book were other such things he had said to her.
Hermione wondered, a little haughtily, if any other girl had ever gotten a date
that went to such lengths and efforts as this. And then the arrogance melted
right out of her when she realized just how little an effort she’d made
herself.

Flipping
through the rest of the chapter in the book she didn’t even notice the door
opening.

“Hermy-own-ninny?”

Hermione
jumped, reflexively snapping the book shut at being caught. Looking up she saw
a very wet Viktor standing with his hand still on the door knob, in nothing
else but a pair of swimming trunks and a towel looped around his neck. She
quickly shook off her blush at being caught in such a compromising situation.
“I’m sorry, I was just-” She started, getting up.

“No, no it is alright. I do not mind.” He assured, holding
his hand up like one would a spooked filly. He was a somewhat embarrassed to
see her, wishing he had been given prior notice of her coming so he could at
least cast some drying and heating charms around the room. Now unfortunately,
she had to see it in all its cold, damp, leaky walled and ceiling glory. “I am
happy to see you, but how did you get here?” He questioned closing the door
behind him.

“Oh, I think he might have been a friend of yours. I never got
his name. Tall, narrow shoulders, his lips were a bit big though, if you don’t
mind me saying so.” She said, remembering having to tear her eyes away from his
jutting, fishy lips.

“Piotr.” Viktor grumbled, silently cursing the other man.
“He should haff told me you vere here. I would haff come much sooner.” He
apologized.

She shook
her head negatively. “That’s quite alright. I didn’t wait long.” She lied the
last part. “I’ll give you some privacy.” She said moving towards the door.

“No, you stay.” He ordered firmly, surprising her enough to
make her halt in her tracks. Realizing what he said may have been taken harsher
than it was meant, he quickly backtracked. “I mean to say, I vanted to ask if
you are hungry. Ve haff a toilet down the hall I vill use to change. I could
get you something to eat, or drink on my way back, yes?” They had not spent
much alone time together since the days he would follow her to the library.
Having her all to himself, and in his room no less, was an opportunity he refused
to chance. Hermione was a rather skittish girl, long silences unnerved her,
observing her made her feel awkward, and he noticed she was not exactly the
type that liked to touch, or perhaps most English girls were like that. He had
heard talk pertaining to such but he wasn’t really sure. All he knew was he had
to be careful of scaring her off.

Hermione
opened her mouth to refuse but paused and seemed to think it over. She was not
the type of girl to loose her nerve, but if she went out in the hall the temptation
to simply forget it all and make a mad dash for it to avoid the uncomfortable
moments surely to come may be overwhelming. Plus she had skipped lunch to come
here. “I would like that very much, thank you.” She replied calmly. “Maybe, if
you have anything to drink? And a scone or two would be lovely.”

Viktor
looked pleased with her acceptance and she could almost see him preening with
pride at finally being able to please her as well. “Vat is scone?” He inquired,
his eyebrows knitting together, making him look more dour and surely than
confused.

Mentally
berating her lack of foreign insight she fought to think of something else.
“Right, you wouldn’t have those, now would you? Muffins? Does your kitchen make
those?”

Years of
English classes and study gave Viktor the intellect to hold a decent
conversation, but he still had difficulty translating specific cultural items
and goods in his head. “I belieff so.” He lied, not wanting to embarrass
himself in front of her. He would just have to ask the cook if he knew what it
was she was asking for.

“If not, I’m positive I’ll eat anything you bring up.” She
added quickly. She didn’t want to sound too picky, even though her parents
always told her what a fussy eater she was.

He nodded
affirmatively. “You vill stay here, then?” He eyed her just to make sure,
gathering some clothes from the dresser before he left.

“Won’t move a muscle.” She crossed her heart though had a
feeling he didn’t understand that specific gesture.

Viktor gave
another nod and turned, once more closing the door behind him. He didn’t run exactly, but he definitely
walked faster than anyone else down the hall, making a hurried turn into a
nearby bathroom. Shoving down his trunks and toweling off as quickly as
possible his eyes unconsciously went to the sink and he braved a peek in the
mirror. He knew he wasn’t bulky, his position as seeker unspokenly forbade him
to be so, but he was taller than any boy he knew and he was toned and strong.
His large hand touched his short, thick locks of dark hair. His eyebrows were
thick too, and upon further inspection he realized the hand he was holding to
his head was overly large as well. His shoulders, feet, and hands suddenly
seemed too wide, to big for his body. Did Hermione notice too?

He frowned
and once again looked like the moody, sour young man everyone else knew him to
be. Brusquely twisting away from the mirror he threw his towel to the ground
and yanked on the clothing he’d brought with him. What did he care for looks?
He had never noticed these things before, why now? His sharp features never
bothered the flock of giggling idiots constantly following him. Then again, he
supposed his fame and status never did either. And what did he want to be
handsome for them anyway? They were squawking social vultures out for
popularity and a famous last name. Buttoning up the wrap of his shirt he
quickly thrust open the bathroom door and made his way to the kitchen,
completely forgetting his soaking clothes for the time being.

The house
elves scurried away, hurriedly cooking supper, mostly meats and what not.
Traipsing through he glanced at every dish, looking for something that she
might want. A certain dish caught his eyes and he couldn’t help but stop and
gaze at it longingly. “Bishta!” He called stopping a certain elf he recognized,
snatching him at the scruff of the neck. Quickly asking him in their language
if he could have the plate, the house elf only too happily shoved the meal to
him begging him to take it.

Viktor
steadied it in his hands and thanked him before making his way out, snagging a
carafe of one of his favorites drinks at the last minute. He wanted to get cups
also, but couldn’t risk dropping the entire dish and ruining what looked like a
delicious meal. Years and years of perfecting his balance in the sky had left
his coordination on land severely wanting, he still had no idea how he had made
it through the entire Yule night without sending both Hermione and himself
straight to the ground.

Warmth
radiated up his collar to his cheeks at the other interpretations that thought
implied. Shaking it off he stopped in front of his door, berating himself for
closing it all the way when he had no hands left to open it. For some reason he
didn’t want to call for her outright and let her see his folly, he was sure he
looked quite silly with all these things in his arms trying to balance them
like a Romanian fire juggler. Making a frustrated noise in the back of his
throat it appeared he didn’t have much of a choice. “Hermy-own-ninny?” He
called, clearing his throat. “Could you open the door? My hands are full.”

No sooner
had the words gotten past his lips then the door swung back and Hermione
quickly scanned his awkward form and smiled warmly, easily taking the plate out
of his hands. Pivoting on her heel back to the bed she looked around wondering
where he expected her to put the dish. “Viktor, where would you like this?” She
asked, tossing him a glance over her shoulder.

Shutting
the door behind him with his duckish foot he gestured to the bed she was
facing. “There is fine, I eat there myself.” He replied, coming to sit at the
end.

She wanted
to inform him of the hazards of eating in bed but shut her mouth, Ron and Harry
never listened to such good advice either, it was probably a guy thing.
Hermione followed him and sat near the pillow, placing the meal between them.
There was only one set of silverware curled in a napkin on the plate, a plate
that was definitely not made up of muffins or scones of any sort. In fact it was
something she’d never seen before and was more than she could ever eat by
herself. Several large strips of meat she supposed was beef with various
seasonings was soaking in a curious smelling sauce. She thought she detected a
faint whiff of salt, pepper, and wine.

“I am sorry, but I could not find the muffins you requested.
This is Kavarma Kebap.” Viktor explained, waiting anxiously for her acceptance
or rejection of what he brought her.

“Oh! Is this a dish from your country?” Hermione questioned,
the familiar inquisitive spark glinting in her eyes.

Viktor gave
a mental sigh of relief and nodded. “Yes, it is very good. My mother makes it
for me ven I am coming home.”

“Does she? And what is that you have?” She asked pointing to
the carafe.

“This? It is Airian, I belieff you vill enjoy it.” He said
showing her the bottle.

“Will I now? I suppose there’s one way to find out.” She
said taking the container from him. Looking into it, it was too dark to see the
exact color, but the drink looked rather opaque. Not one to be scared off by
something new, she closed her eyes and let the liquid slide down her throat.
Setting down the carafe Hermione opened her eyes, letting her tongue feel
around the remains of the drink. It was quite good; the flavor was thick,
sweet and tangy at the same time.

He watched
her carefully, waiting for any sign of displeasure or disgust. But neither
came, and he relaxed when she licked her bottom lip and looked at the flask
investigatingly. “You like it?”

Hermione
nodded and took another sip, letting the drink stay in her mouth longer this
time, trying to piece apart the various flavors. When they all seemed to slide
together she gave up and made a mental note to ask him about it later.

“I vanted to bring cups, but as you could see, my hand vere
full.” He explained apologetically.

She waved
him off and set the thermos back down between them. “I’m sure we’ll manage.
Neither of us appear to be sick so I think it’s alright to share germs just
this once.” She smiled. “Although, there is the one set of silverware problem.”
Hermione gazed down at the innocent metal gleaming back up at her, her quick
mind already formulating a solution. “Well, we have a knife and fork, so why
don’t I just cut the serving into little bite pieces.”

“Vhy don’t you let me?” Viktor offered, taking the utensils
away from her and easily slicing up the thick beef. “I apologize for the state
of my room.” He said, his attention on severing the meat below him.

Hermione
balked at that. “What ‘state’?”

“I vould haff fixed the leaks, and I could haff cast a
heating charm. I am sure this is cold for you.” He finally separated the last
piece and set the silverware down.

She scoffed
at his ridiculous notions and settled herself more comfortably on the bed remembering
the reason she had come in the first place. “Actually, Viktor, I’m the one that
came here to apologize.”

Viktor
looked up at her puzzled and waited for her to continue.

“I haven’t exactly treated you fairly these past few months,
have I?” said Hermione. “I never really thanked you properly for saving me in
the second task. Your partial Transmogrification was positively brilliant!” She
exclaimed. “It was wonderfully clever of you!”

He glanced
away shyly but was pleased to finally earn such praise from her. It meant more
to him than any Quidditch broadcaster’s winning announcement. “You haff no need
to apologize to me, Hermy-own-ninny.” He winced; sure he had mispronounced her
name once again.

A lock of
twisting hair fell from her bun as she laughed. “Well I won’t let your modesty
stop me from doing it anyway.” She picked up a piece of saturated beef and
popped it into her mouth, trying to hide her gag at the onions littering its
skin.

“Coming to see me is the only apology I vant, Hermy-own-ninny.”
He said, taking a swig of the airian.

She made
sure his eyes were well diverted before secretly wiping the onions clinging to
her next piece of meat off onto the plate. “I’m thankful you’re so forgiving.”
Tentatively sliding the beef past her lips she sighed pleasurably, much better.

The next
hour and a half passed pleasantly, and Hermione grew more and more at ease,
gradually forgetting she was alone with the opposite sex in his room. Snuggling
back against the headboard she rubbed her stomach and let Viktor have the last
bite of Kevarma Kebap. She tightened her scarf and tucked her legs beside her
while he laid against the back wall, savoring the last morsel probably more
than she had savored the entire meal. When the plate was cleaned he set it
aside, leaving only the half empty bottle of airian. She watched as he licked
his fingers clean and stifled a reprimanding comment about doing that in
public; remembering at the last minute that they were in private and it was Ron
that had a habit of sucking the food off his digits in public.

Her hand
came to her mouth to hide a wide yawn. Yes, now that she thought about it, she
most definitely tasted wine, or some sort of alcohol in the Kevarma Kebap. It
had given it a decent tang to it, though. Her eyes lazily went about the room
again, this time catching one of the leaks he was referring to. Her pupils
followed the drops as they fell from the ceiling, splashing into a little
puddle on the floor. ‘…drip…drip…drip…’

Viktor
settled back into the wall, his long legs hanging off the bed and still
managing to touch the floor. He studied her as he often liked to do, though he
had a feeling it unnerved her. For some reason English girls were uncomfortable
with long silences and anyone that simply stared or admired them. He watched
his friends do similar things that he did and most of the Hogwarts girls would
look away and blush and only try to glance at them when they thought they
weren’t looking. Girls here seemed to be very indirect with their feelings and
they were much harder to read. With Hermione it was as though he was constantly
having to dance around her, never knowing whether to keep certain feelings in
or let them out for fear of loosing her interest. It was very hard not be able
to say the things you wanted to say to the person you most wanted to hear them.

He liked
her looks, even though she paid them little attention. It was as though all
girls were beginning to look the same these days. Always trying to get their
hair immaculate and perfectly straight, trying to make their lips look
constantly wet and shiny, every one of them putting on the same makeup and
clothes. Eventually they became hard to tell apart. He knew many men liked
these girls but to Viktor, such hair was like water, it had no substance and
slid from your fingers too easily, and glossy lips looked like they were
covered in drool. Hermione, on the other hand, he had noticed instantly.
Everything about her screamed untouchable, her volumous, tousled hair made her
look like a wild thing, and the simple chapstick covering her lips made them
look like soft fleshy pillows forever tempting your own. He remembered how she
had glimpsed at him the first time he caught her attention. Her eyes seemed
bored and unimpressed. It hadn’t gotten any better when he tried to see her in
the library only to be flocked by the irritating gaggle of squawking girls. She
had outright glared at him and stormed out on many an occasion. For once he was
just a boy fighting for the attention of girl. And it was harder than beating
the Irish Quidditch team.

When he
started to take notice of her practically constant companionship of Harry
Potter he couldn’t help the sting of jealousy. And when the snooping Rita
Skeeter woman started spinning her tails he had been very much ready to beat
the boy’s face in should he admit to any of the romantic fabrications. Luckily
he had confessed to just being a friend, as Hermione had originally told him.

He was
happy that she had come to see him and finally had the time to spend with him.
Though it appeared it had come too late. He did not want to leave tomorrow,
back to his cold school where the sun shown itself so little. He wanted to stay
with her, he wanted to have many days like today with her. She began to fidget under
his gaze and he looked at her questioningly. His jaw tightened in frustration
and disappointment. He knew what would come next. She would shift about
awkwardly for a few minutes before finally asking him ‘What?’ and he would have
to look away and make up some excuse. Then more than likely she would be uneasy
enough to leave and they would part. He did not want that to happen today. He
did not want to be just another passerby in her life that she would eventually
forget, which would surely happen if she left right now. “Hermy-own-ninny?”

Hermione’s
gaze flickered up to him, grateful for the break in that horrid silence and
one-sided staring contest. “Yes?”

“Please do not be offended.” He said.

Her brow
furrowed in puzzlement at that. “Why-” And suddenly his lips were on hers.
Every muscle in her body tensed and froze as though she were on a bed of nails.
Her eyes widened in surprise and she was too shocked, her mind startled and
drawing too much of a blank to react, to make her politely push him away. And
before her brain could reappear, he very slowly pulled back, his lips lingering
on hers a moment longer.

That was
how it changed. How the once amiable, friendly, and completely unthreatening
atmosphere all too abruptly turned upside down. She was no longer having lunch
with a friend. She was in a boy’s room. Not a boy, a man’s room. She was
a young girl sitting on a bed with a man in his room. Alone. Adults always
warned you of consequences such as these, buts it’s as if you don’t truly
understand or believe them until you experience it for you own.

He was
watching her with anxiety written all over his harsh and dour face. Right now,
she could only stare back in shock. With the loss of the easy ambiance came a
change in herself as well. She supposed it was a change that was meant to come
on in later years when her body and hormones matured a bit more, but it was
just given a good hard kick to now. That change that took place in older
girls, almost women, when they stopped regarding boys as either gross or cute
things to fancy and began to see them in a new light. Where they began to see
their more, sexual, potential. And it could either scare them or intrigue them.

Unfortunately,
Hermione was too young to yet be intrigued by a paradigm shift so overwhelming.
She could tell he truly and desperately had not meant to offend her and that
erased some of the fear towards him. The age difference had never really been
so important to her as to merit caution. But now it was obvious, apparent, and
staring her right in the face. He was eighteen and she was fourteen. He was
ready for things that she was not. A good ninety percent of her was screaming
at her to politely say goodbye, wish him a safe journey, and leave.

But there
was that insufferable ten percent, that little piece of her. That was the piece
that urged her to go into the restricted section to see if, indeed, the grass
was greener on the other side of the library. It was the piece that bade her to
snatch ingredients from Professor Snape’s personal inventory for potions
forbidden to her. It was the piece that relished the dropping of jaws when she
appeared with Viktor Krum at the Yule Ball. It was the piece that refused to
allow her to leave the bed.

She
regarded him wearily, not sure what to do next. There were no books she had
read with information strictly regarding incidents such as this. Running her
tongue over the roof of her mouth, Viktor’s kiss was like a bad drink with a
good aftertaste. You were hesitant to take another sip but the curiosity over
the aftertaste had you going back for another experimental swig. Hermione would
be lying if she didn’t admit she was just as curious as she was frightened. It
would be…informative…to see what all the older girls were on about.

Taking a
deep breath to steady her nerves, she propped herself more firmly against the
headboard before leaning in and touching her lips to his.

Viktor had
to wrestle with himself not to crush her in his arms. He was surprised, but
pleasantly so. This was more than he had hoped for from her. Instead, he
grasped a fistful of updone unruly hair at the back of her head and steadied
his other hand along her jaw. She felt so small against his looming body and
large hands. He did not want to ruin this chance with her, so he went as slow
as possible, waiting for her to relax into him.

He didn’t
know he had been leaning into her until he lay practically on top of her
on the bed, his weight pushing her back like erosion against a sea-cliff. He
nipped at her bottom lip, gently taking it in his mouth, letting his tongue
brush against it. Instantly he felt her stiffen and whimper in fright. Viktor
quickly pulled away, both of them panting for breath as they considered the
other. She looked like a scared snow-rabbit trapped beneath him and he was
quick to ease her fears. “I vill do nothing you are not vanting,
Hermy-own-ninny.” He assured her, beating himself up for mispronouncing her
name again. And it was such a pretty name to get wrong too. It sounded
beautiful rolling off English lips, but his own Bulgarian ones butchered it
into something harsh and queer.

For the
millionth time, Hermione wondered frantically why she wasn’t shoving him off
and making a mad dash for it. She was scared, like a child would be when
opening a door told to have monsters on the other side. But, she comforted
herself, there was no reason to not feel safe. Viktor would not hurt her. At
least she was being kissed by someone who actually cared for. It was better
than letting your hormones make you too stupid to realize you were snogging one
of the biggest jerks in Hogwarts. ‘I honestly haven’t the faintest how Pansy
does it…’ she added as a afterthought. “I know. Its just…well I’ve never
really kissed anyone before. I’m not exactly well studied in the fine arts of
snogging 101 per say.” She admitted somewhat sheepishly.

His lips
turned up in a grin. He felt honored by the confession. “Here,” he started,
lifting her hand to his shoulder. “you vill squeeze if you are not liking
something, and I vill stop.” He instructed carefully.

Hermione
decided she rather liked that approach and nodded, giving his wide shoulder an
experimental squeeze. Her other hand braced itself flat against his chest as he
leaned back down to her. It was easier this time, now that she had a way out
and wasn’t surprised when he moved his lips against hers. Closing her eyes she
lay still and allowed him to take her bottom lip without being skittish. This
time she could predict the tongue that skimmed across the flesh there and was
able to steady her fight or flight instinct. Was this what kissing was? Well,
she found the rumors about its effects to be greatly exaggerated.

Although,
her eyes did slit open in confusion when his tongue brushed across her teeth.
She opened her mouth, feeling him press urgently against her bottom row of
teeth and nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt his tongue explore the
roof of her mouth. Her fingers were eager to grip his shoulder but she fought
down the panic in her stomach and tried to relax, letting her eyes slide shut
again. That same tongue tapped her own and petted it lovingly before mapping
out the rest of her mouth around it. It did feel nice once she grew comfortable
and allowed herself to investigate the sensations he was trying to create.

When he was
satisfied with his work there, he broke the kiss only to pepper more along her
jaw. Viktor couldn’t help but wrap his arms around her, wanting to be closer,
never wanting to be apart again. His fingers tentatively unwound the scarf and
tossed it to the side, cautiously waiting for any pressure on his shoulder.
When none came he continued to trail his lips down her neck, pressing an
adoring kiss to the dip of her clavicle. One hand slid from her waist to touch
her neck, slowly tracing down to where the skin buried itself into her winter
robes. He watched his fingers move
over the soft flesh in wonder, the tip of his nail passing a small freckle at
the base of her neck. “Hermy-own-ninny..” he whispered reverently. “I vould
throw Quidditch, my school and my career all avay for more time vith you.” He
worshipped, placing another kiss on her chin.

They were
probably the most beautiful things ever said to her. She only wished she knew
what to say or how to respond to them. But Hermione was a scholar, not a
romantic. She prized intellect, not poetry, candy, and dates. Though that
didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate the value or the weight of his words all
the same. Weighing her options in her
mind, she decided on something, her fingers going to the buttons of her coat.

His eyes
followed as she shrugged out of the heavy jacket, leaning up just enough to let
it slide off her shoulders before laying back down underneath him. Viktor
swallowed nervously at the implied invitation and touched his lips to her
cheek. His hand moved down her front, feeling the soft material of her uniform.

She didn’t
know why she did it. It was bloody freezing now that she was out of the safety
of her warmer clothing. But she was becoming more comfortable with the
situation, if just a little bit. The threat of going in over her head still
hung in the air, but at least she was certain that Viktor would never coerce
her into doing anything she wasn’t ready to do. It gave her the semblance of
control over what was happening. And that was always comforting. A sudden odd
thought struck her out of the blue just then. “Were you swimming in the lake
again?” She asked.

Viktor
looked up from his place at her collarbone. “Vat?”

“The lake, was that where you came from before coming here?”
She repeated curiously.

He nodded a
confirmation. “Yes.”

Hermione
laughed at him and shook her head. “We consider this weather positively arctic.
I’d hate to know what you would define as chilly.”

His chest
rumbled in a deep chuckle. “It is not this, I assure you.” He replied nuzzling
the crook of her neck.

Well, she
wasn’t so chilly anymore. For someone who came from an absolute tundra of a
country, Viktor was quite warm. She could feel his fingers grasp the hem of her
jumper and she froze. Was this going too far? Was this too much? A short mental
debate went on before she agreed in favor and lifted her arms for him. ‘Its
alright, its alright, you can stop anytime you want to…’ She silently
hushed herself. It kept her nerves in check but she was still a little uneasy.
Hermione was surprised when he neatly folded the wool jumper in half and
reached to hang it on the back of a chair. It was definitely a check in the
‘pro’ box in her opinion. How many men folded their own clothes let
alone those of someone else?

Once he was
sure the school garb was decently balanced on the chair he went to hover over
her once more. True to his word he went very slow and carefully with her,
gently taking the time to stroke the hair away from her face and firmly knead
the knots from her arms and back. He felt her relax again and paid attention to
the grip on his shoulder as he gradually undid her tie, laying it next to the
other attire when he was done.

Those
large, calloused hands worked magic on her muscles. Hermione sighed happily as
his strong fingers massaged her spine. She was lax in his arms when he finally
stopped, his hands coming up to her oxford. She knew this was definitely too
far, she knew she should squeeze his shoulder and demand that he stop. But all
she did was close her eyes, her mind tenderly whispering ‘Calm down, calm
down…’ when she felt the buttons being released of their confines, and his
lips claim the free skin in their wake. Her chest was free of any real bust to
speak of, so unlike Parvati and Lavender she did not wear a bra when it would
serve no purpose. There was no shame in being a late bloomer. She could feel
the cold air hit her flesh like an icy truck as he parted the folds of her
shirt to reveal what only she, her mother, and God more than likely, had ever
seen before.

Viktor slid
his fingers along her bare sides, exploring the new skin he’d discovered, and
he swore he felt himself swoon. She was so soft, and so indescribable. He could
see the beginning swell of youthful breasts and circled his thump around a
hardened nipple, hearing her breath catch in her throat as he did so. Pressing
his lips against the center of her chest he felt her free hand come up to lie
at the back of his head. He was not an expert on the subject of love making,
only having done it a few times himself, but he desperately wanted to be good
for her. Desperately wanted to prove himself to her. The other girls he’d been
with were more his age and more or less knew what to expect, so his clumsy
fingers and sloppy kisses weren’t so traumatizing. Hermione, on the other hand,
was new and this could either be an experience that would leave her repulsed
with him forever, or something she remembered fondly with requests for more
come later. It was a heavy weight on his shoulders but he was determined to
make it last and pull out every move and trick he knew, heard, or read about.

She was
most assuredly nervous now. Hermione was half naked. Half naked in front of a
man. Half naked in front of a man alone in his room. Just as she was beginning
to sooth her nerves she felt a warming wetness cover her nipple, a firm tongue
laving over the little bud. She jumped in surprised, her hand instantly
squeezing his shoulder in panic.

He stopped
almost immediately and broke away from her. Her eyes were wide and apprehensive
and he quickly went to comfort her. “You are alright, Hermy-own-ninny?”

Swallowing
the thick lump in her throat she tried to steady her breath. Loosing her head
would accomplish nothing; it was like devil’s snare, panicking made it worse.
She licked her lips and wracked her brain to collect her thoughts. He hadn’t
lied when he said that he would stop whenever she asked, that knowledge was
reassuring. “I’m just a little scared I suppose.” She confessed, unable to look
him in the eye.

Firmly
taking her hand in his he gave it a consoling squeeze, mimicking what she had
given his shoulder. “I told you, I vill do nothing you are not vanting.” He
appeased, pushing himself back into a sitting position, taking her with him.

Hermione
nodded in agreement. She had heard girls sobbing in the toilet stalls after
their boyfriends broke up with them for not sleeping with them. She’d heard the
rumors the older boys spread about girls that refused to ‘go all the way.’ She
thought herself lucky that Viktor was not one of them. That he would wait so
patiently for her until she was ready. She just needed time for it all to sink
it; everything seemed to be coming at her all at once.

Viktor let
his hands fall away from her, giving her the space she wanted. He knew she did
not like to be touched when she was upset; it was a miracle she was still here
because she generally didn’t want to even be around anyone when she was upset. He could not say he fully understood her
rule of ‘needing space’ when most people would be needing comfort, but he
abided by it, not wanting to make her angry or scare her off. Her adolescent
arms were crossed over her nudity and he noticed how she shook ever so
slightly. “You tremble, Hermy-own-ninny. You are cold?” He didn’t wait for her
to reply before going to his dresser and pulling out what looked like a huge
bundle of gray and brown fur from the bottom drawer.

The quaking
was more a mixture of anxiety than cold but she was grateful when he looped the
fur blanket around her shoulders. It was warm and the hairs felt soft against
her cheek.

“Vould you like something more to drink? The airian is gone,
but they haff more in the kitchen. Vould you like me to go get more?” He offered,
not liking feeling at a loss for what to do to make her feel better.

“Yes, that would be lovely. Thank you.” She said tucking the
blanket more tightly around her.

He appeared
reluctant to leave her in the room by herself and hesitated before getting up.
“You vill stay, then? You vill not leaf vithout tell me, vill you?”

She
couldn’t deny that the thought was most appealing, but he was trying so hard to
put her at ease that she doubted she could bring herself to run away behind his
back. “I’ll be right here when you get back.” She promised.

There was
still an air of doubt about him but he seemed to accept her word and left
without argument.

Strolling
quickly back to the kitchen he reminded himself that he would have to trust
her. But she was jumpy like a cat in water when it came to such things. He
meant it when he said he would not push her to do anything she did not want to
do, but he did not want her to dismiss what they could share together so easily
either. Not only the physical aspects but a strong relationship as well. She
was so young, yes, but he could wait, and did not want to loose her over such a
little thing as an age difference.

It was
later in the day and more than half of the Durmstrang students had gone to
Hogwarts for dinner, while the others stayed on the ship to eat. Slipping into
the kitchen he snagged another bottle of airian and luckily remembered to grab
the cups too. Stopping in his tracks, he could hear someone laughing at him and
making jokes from behind. Turning around he saw his friend Piotr watching him
with amusement.

“Taking dinner to your room, this efening?” He grinned.

Viktor
rolled his eyes and grumbled back in Bulgarian. “I am taking my drink to my
room this efening.”

“Vith two cups?” Piotr eyed the charming goblets
mischievously.

“Vhy did you not come and get me vhen she came?” He asked,
still somewhat irritated with him for that little stunt.

The other
young man shrugged casually. “I did not know vhere you vere.” He answered.

“You could haff looked a harder.” Viktor bit back.

He laughed
at that. “Vell nonetheless, it vould seem that she vas not offended.” He
chuckled, playfully flicking one of the cups in his hand.

His eyes
narrowed and he glared sourly at him. “You vill stay quiet.” He growled. “I
haff no need for your foolish tongue spreading stories.”

Piotr was
not so intimidated by Viktor’s threatening figure looming over him. He would
keep his findings to himself, though he and the seeker were something of
friends he knew the other boy would make good on his warning. “Vat stories? I
only saw you getting a drink. Vat is there to tell?” He asked innocently.

Viktor gave
him one last skeptical glower before stepping around him and moving back to his
room. Walking to the door he was still weary but did not believe that his
friend would break faith with him about something he knew was so important. He
adjusted the new carafe and cups into one arm and opened the door, feeling an
enormous weight on his chest he hadn’t even known was there disappear when he
found her still seated on the bed, wrapped in his blanket with her knees drawn
to her side.

Torn from
her reverie at the creaking click of the door shutting as he returned, she
glanced up at him walking duck-footed back to the bed. Making himself
comfortable again he poured the glasses, handing the first to her. “Got tired
of swapping cooties with me, did you?” She joked taking a sip.

He chuckled
and set the bottle aside, downing his own cup. He wasn’t exactly sure what
‘cooties’ were, but he knew, whatever they were, there was no one he’d rather
swap them with than her. Cradling his goblet he watched as her naked arm peeked
from behind the curtain of fur to hold her cup. He wanted to touch her again,
but could not tell whether it was okay or not.

Hermione
followed his eyes and squirmed a bit, she knew he was thinking about what they
were doing. She cleared her throat slightly to get his attention. “I just
wanted to say that I apologize if you’re frustrated with me.” She said. “I’m
not sorry for needing time, mind you.” She added quickly. “Just sorry because I
know how hard you’re trying.”

He observed
her lips as they moved and understood, mentally translating certain words she
said. “I am not frustrated, Hermy-own-ninny. I am only happy to be vith you.”
He corrected. “I vould gladly do anything to make you more comfortable.”

A shy smile
overcame her and she looked down at her drink. His mother must be the proudest
mother in the world. Throwing back the rest of her airian down her throat, she
resolutely set it on the nightstand. She had come this far, and it wasn’t so
bad. Surely she could continue on. Right now she was probably living the dream
any girl would kill for! A wonderful foreign man caring for them and wanting
them in the way that a man wanted a woman. True, it was a little early for her
to be doing such things, but at least, the logical part of her mind said, she
had no wild hormones fogging her mind, making her irrational and keeping her
from choosing an appropriate partner. Yes, it was the most realistic choice.
“I, am very, very nervous.” She outright deadpanned.

It was a
rare thing to have her admit she was so unsure of herself. “This vill only go
as far as you allow it to go.” He promised, taking her small hands together and
devotedly pressing them to his chest.

His vow
made her somewhat more confident, but the unease in her stomach still bubbled
with caution. Her fingers flexed against him and she searched his face or any
sign of mislead, or distrust, and found none. Her nail caught on one of his
buttons and she glimpsed at it. The material of his robes was much thicker and
coarser than her own. Straightening up she let the blanket fall around her hips
as she leaned in, unbuttoning the little disks lining his front.

Viktor
moved his hands out of the way, simply observing her deft fingers smudged with
ink from a school day’s work. They skillfully slipped button for button from
their fabric nooses until his shirt hung open like a flag. She appeared
resolved but was still unable to look him in the face as she slid the rest of
the garment off his shoulders.

Sitting
back on her heels Hermione was at a loss of what else to do. What else was
intercourse supposed to involve? You kiss, remove clothing, and then of course
there’s penetration but she wasn’t quite ready for that just yet.

He noticed
her looking at him as she would a particularly hard passage in a book, trying
to take whatever else she had learned and apply it to help her understand.
“Hermy-own-ninny?” He asked wondering what was on her mind.

At that she
growled in exasperation and tossed her head away so he wouldn’t see her grit
her teeth. “Oh this is too difficult!” She exclaimed.

His brow
knitted together in confusion at her irritation. Difficult? “It is not supposed
to be difficult.”

“Well it is!” She snapped, glaring at him in annoyance. Of
course this wasn’t difficult for him, lord knows how many times he’d done it
before!

Viktor
regarded her more carefully now. Calculating the best way to approach her
temper. “It is only difficult if you make it that vay.” He said. “It is
supposed to be very simple. If you vant to touch, you touch. If you vant to
kiss, you kiss. There is no thinking.” He explained running his hand down her
arm.

Hermione
eyed him inquisitively, considering his words. Perhaps she was making
this too hard on herself. If it were supposed to be so hard then no one would
want to do it! Taking a deep breath she let her eyes rove calmly over his form.
What did she want to do? What was she comfortable with? She had always thought
he had a rather nice chest the few times she’d actually seen it. Hesitantly raising her hand, she touched her
fingers to his chest. The skin there was as sallow as the rest of him, but it
was firm and unyielding to the touch. Before her mind could talk her out of it
she closed her eyes and pressed her lips to the spot above her fingers.

His breath
quickened as she touched him and he had to stop himself from pushing her flat
on her back. She was hesitant and gentle and he couldn’t help but tangle his
fingers in her hair, the pencil keeping it up finally popping out at the
pressure, the rest of her unruly locks tumbling down her naked back. The thick
cords wrapped around his hand like miniature anacondas, tangling and refusing
to let him go.

She looked
up at the sudden explosion of hair, feeling the messy locks brush coarsely over
her skin.

Her wide
innocent eyes gazed up at him questioningly, her mouth mere centimeters from
his chest, wild tendrils coming to scratch her face. And he could take no more.
Viktor cupped her jaw and brought her up for another kiss, this one harsher,
full of barely concealed restraint. His arms twined around her back, gently
lowering her to the bed.

His lips
nipped and kissed down to her chest and this time she made herself be still as
he took a nipple into his mouth. Her fingers sunk into his coarse hair on
instinct, clenching her eyes shut to sooth her nerves. The cold attacked her
skin making her shiver against him as he suckled her, his other hand moving
tenderly over the neglected immature breast. After a few moments she grew
accustom to the odd sensations of his tongue covering her sensitive bud and
relaxed underneath him. She mused at the unrecognizable hardness pressing
firmly against her leg. His mouth left the first nipple, giving it one last
kiss before moving on to the second.

Hermione
raked her hands gently through his short locks, staring up at the ceiling,
trying to find patterns the watermarks left on the wood but unable to think
with such strange things happening to her body. She felt cold and warm all at
the same time and could do nothing but hold him closer and ride it out.

Finally he
seemed to gather himself and came up, his breath fast and unsteady against her
cheek. “I am sorry, if I haff moved too fast, Hermy-own-ninny.” He breathed. He
could feel his erection straining against his pants and desperately fought it
down, silently murmuring Quidditch statistics and game plans to himself until he
calmed.

“I’ll live. I’ve never been pawed before but I’m fairly
certain it’s not fatal.” She joked.

He was
about to respond when the muffled sound of voices echoed in the hallway. They
both stopped to listen as they grew closer.

“Viktor! Kade e ti?”

Hermione
saw him rise up to glare at the door and was fairly sure he wasn’t wishing
anything pleasant on whoever was standing outside it. A firm knock rapped
against the wood and Viktor yelled something out at whoever it was, though it
sounded like a man’s voice. The man replied harshly and she could tell Viktor
wasn’t getting any happier. The doorknob turned and Hermione gasped,
frantically trying to cover herself before anyone could come in.

“Kon da ti go natrese!” Viktor swore angrily, picking up one
of his boots from the ground and flinging it at the door. It landed with a
crash against the wood, the force of it thrusting the door shut with a loud
slam.

She jumped
at the ear shattering ruckus faintly hearing grumbling and a series of foreign
cursing on the other side of the door before it faded out as he drew away.
Waiting for her panicked heart rate to return to normal, Viktor gave the door
one last scowl before lying back down to her. “What was that all about?”

“Your Gryffindors are haffing a Quidditch practice. Nikoli
vanted me to go and I told him I did not.” He sighed into her collarbone.

“Was all that racket really necessary, then?” She inquired,
raising an eyebrow.

“Only vhen he refuses to listen.” He explained with a little
grin.

Rolling her
eyes she mumbled something about men and testosterone, but Viktor was happy to
listen to her insults so long as she continued to run her fingers through his
hair like she was. His hand brushed across her belly, his thumb unbuttoning her
skirt that had gotten twisted in their petting.

Her muscles
stiffened again but she would not cow down and bravely lifted her hips for him
to slide them off. Pushing himself up by his hands he carefully began peeling
the skirt down her legs, stepping down from the bed so he could slip it the
rest of the way off and get at her shoes and socks as well.

Watching
him untie her shoes she tried to think of safe and familiar things to take away
her nervousness. The library, oh her wonderful library. Her safe haven from
squawking girls, shallow boys, and the occasional rude professor. A place to do
homework without distraction, a place to learn new things that piqued her
curiosity. She was torn from her thoughts as her last sock snaked off her foot,
the frigid air making her toes curl in for warmth.

When he
kneeled back on the bed she noticed he had taken off his shoes and socks along
with hers. There was little hiding her from his inquiring gaze now, nothing but
a scrap of white cotton fabric to be exact.

Viktor stared
down at her, tracing the little pink heart sewn into the corner of her panties
with this index finger. His hands slid up the sides of her ribcage as he leaned
down to place a kiss in between. “You are alright, Hermy-own-ninny?” He asked
with concern. If she did not want this then he would still stop.

“I’m fine.” She nodded, allowing his fingers to hook into
the sides of her knickers and ease them down. Closing her eyes she feared she
didn’t have the nerve to watch him look over her fully naked form.

She was a
miracle in his eyes. The last piece of clothing now lay next to the rest of her
uniform and he found himself reverently wanting to kiss her feet. This was what
all that romantic literature his mother was so fond of reading was about. If he
had ever had a doubt about what they were doing before, they were dashed on the
pavement like brittle glass the moment his eyes set on her unclothed body. She
looked so small, laying innocently and bare on his bed, her hands drawn up by
her face.

He desperately
wanted to please her, to make her happy. He had heard talk of certain things
but had never actually performed them himself, though this act he wanted to do
with her. Pausing doubtfully, he didn’t want her to laugh at him or leave if he
did not do it right. Viktor thought it over and steeled his nerve as though he
were going after the snitch.

His fingers
were snaking down her tummy, stopping briefly to caress her pelvic bone, then
lower. Her hand went to his shoulder, ready to tell him to stop, not sure if
she could go through with it, but the digits just wouldn’t squeeze. Hermione
felt him trail through her dusky curls before cupping her firmly between her
thighs. She gasped, clamping her legs around the invasive hand. It was queer
and awkward at first, but when he slowly rocked the heel of his palm against
her it surprisingly began to feel good! She moved clumsily into his
hand, trying to match his rhythm but inexperience handicapped her goal. She
cried out when she felt him slip a finger into her passage and realized how wet
and slippery she was.

Viktor was
elated by the sounds she was making beneath him. She was enjoying his
attentions and even beginning to participate on her own. He worried, though,
when she was too tight for him to add another finger. That could be a problem,
but hopefully if he could pull more moisture from her, it would get easier.
Drawing his hand away from her he began to kiss his way down her front. ‘Do
not loose your nerve! Start, listen to her, and go from there.’ He coached
himself, drawing a circle round her bellybutton with his tongue.

The bed
shifted as a large weight was lifted from it and Hermione opened her eyes to
find him gone. No, not gone, just kneeling at the end of the bed, his hands
gently gripping her knees, spreading her legs apart. She blushed madly, wanting
to crawl up in a hole and die at him inspecting such an intimate place.
“Viktor, what do you think you’r-” Her reproach was cut off as all air seemed
to leave her lungs when his tongue pressed against her nether lips, delving in
the crevice and sweeping along the tender skin. “Oh, oh my…” She stuttered, her
mind a mass of jelly in her head.

From what
he could tell from her, he was doing well. Viktor felt a swell of masculine
pride at her little mewlings and whimpers. He paid close attention to which
places made her cry louder and which did not. His tongue laved over the tender
little bud peering out from its sheath, but when her thighs tried to snap shut
he decided to save that for later. Circling around the tight narrow canal of
her, he lapped at the wetness found there before diving in. She cried out and
her knees struggled against the large hands holding them apart.

“Viktor, oh Viktor no more, please…” She all but wept,
urgently pushing at his head.

He stopped
and glanced up at her from his point at the foot of the bed. Tears ran down her
face and she fought eagerly to brush them away as fast as she could. Dread
washed over his heart and he climbed back over to her, tenderly wiping her cheeks
with his overgrown fingers. Had he done something wrong? “Hermy-own-ninny, I
only vanted…I vas trying to..” He stopped, not being able to formulate his
thoughts into words when she sniffled so pitifully.

“Yes, yes I know and it was wonderful, really. Thank you.”
She breathed wrapping her arms around him and holding him tight.

Viktor
rubbed soothing circles over her naked back. “You are not hurting?”

“No, not at all.” She reassured, her tears fading and drying
against her face. Carefully hooking her ankle around his calf she could feel
that same unrelenting hardness pressing into her. Glancing down she noticed his
pants spread tight over a rigid bulge at the juncture of his thighs. Hermione ran a curious finger over the
length of it pulling away frightened when she heard him grunt in something that
sounded close to agony.

“I, I haff been trying to go slow, for you.” He explained
awkwardly.

If what he
had done to her was considered ‘slow’ she wasn’t sure she could take much more
of it. “I believe we’ve gone slow enough.” She whispered, pulling at his belt.

He looked
at her in surprise for a moment before shaking it off and nodding, rising up to
help her tug down his pants. Getting up into a kneeling position he slowly slid
his boxers down his legs, kicking them off into the rest of the clothing pile.
Risking a glimpse at her he expected her to look away blushing, but instead she
was actually up and observing him with quite a bit of interest.

Hermione
had never really seen a naked male up close in real life, and her bookworm
personality couldn’t help but be intrigued by the prospect of a new study. But
her concentration was taken away when he grabbed her shoulders and hauled her
against him for another kiss.

Gently
pressing her back into the mattress Viktor gripped her tighter. Now he could
feel her entire body flush against him, her naked skin brushing his own. He was
hard almost to the point of being painful before pulling away to gather
himself, not wanting to hurt her with his own need. Keeping a cautious eye on her for any trace of discomfort he
carefully positioned himself at her entrance.

She gasped
and clutched his arms braced on either side of her as he pushed forward. Her
walls stretched painfully to accommodate his length and she squinched her eyes
shut, willing herself to think of anything but the pain.

He had no
idea how, but he managed to still his hips and gently pet her face when he saw
it tighten in distress. “If it is hurting you, I vill stop.”

Shaking her
head negatively she urged him to continue. They’d already gone so far, it would
be silly to stop now, the rational part of her mind said. No, it was not so
bad. She could think of worse things, such as re-growing bones, or breaking
them in the first place for that matter.

Viktor
accepted her resolve and inched forward, burying his face in the crook of her
neck when it became too much. Her walls were hot and slick and squeezing him so
torturously. His tip came to press against a thin unyielding barrier and he
softly stroked her hair as he surged through it. She whimpered and cried out in
his arms and he held fast until she could grew used to him. Sniffing back tears
she threw her arms around his neck hiding her face in his shoulder.

His skin was covered in a thin sheen
of sweat as he fought not to simply drive into her. Fortunately, slowly he felt
her muscles relax and her light weeping gradually faded. After a moment he gave
an experimental push and when she did not clutch him in pain he began a slow
and easy rhythm. His mind swam with the brainless muck it had been reduced to
as he gripped her, mumbling mindless words of adoration in her hear.

Hermione grasped him in a vice-like
grip, she felt as though she were being torn in two, the lubrication had helped
but it couldn’t stop the tearing feeling the invasion was causing her. He
gasped and panted against her cheek and she could hear him whispering nonsense,
in what she guessed was his own language, to her. She had heard the first time
was never as ‘magical’ as all that romance novel rubbish made it out to be. Her
mother had admitted that as long as she had an attentive partner it wasn’t so
bad, it was no walk in the park, she warned, but it wasn’t so bad. And it would
get better with time. Though, right now, Hermione couldn’t think of a single
thing that would make any girl want a repeat of such a performance.

His arms suddenly clutched her much
too tight and she feared he was going to crush her when he cried out, his
entire body going taut as a bowstring. She felt something explode inside of her
and after a while he gradually loosened his hold, coming down from wherever it
was he had gone, leaving him breathless and trembling above her. Hermione lay
still, unsure of what to do or what was happening, but calmed down when he
rolled onto his side, gathering closely to him, still mumbling to her in
Bulgarian. She hadn’t the foggiest what he was saying, but the words where
desperate and soft, and she was beginning to feel quite tired.

Viktor held her to him, lovingly caressing
her back and looping his leg with hers, although with his height it was a bit
of an awkward feat. Everything he felt
for her just flowed through his mouth like water from a broken damn. Muttering
into her hair how he wanted to stay with her, how he adored her, how he loved
her, whispering how much she meant to him, how he would do anything, give
anything, for her. In his language he asked her to come back with him, to stay
with him too. He knew she didn’t understand what he was saying but he couldn’t
keep playing this game with her, couldn’t keep dancing around her, worrying
about telling her the wrong things, things she wasn’t ready to hear. At least
this way he could finally tell her what he wanted without worry of the
consequences.

“I don’t suppose you’d lend me that dictionary of yours, now
would you?” He heard her murmur.

“You vish to learn Balgarski?” He grinned.

“I wish to learn whether or not you’re cursing at me behind
my back.” She replied sleepily.

He laughed
and closed his arms tighter around her. “Ti viy desh za me nya?” He whispered
placing a kiss on her shoulder.

Rolling her
eyes she let whatever comment she was going to make about his rudeness go and
made herself comfortable for a short nap before she would have to leave and head
back to Hogwarts.

Tomorrow
the ship would sail, taking him back to Durmstrang, and he found that he
couldn’t just sleep it off like she apparently had no trouble doing. With a
deep sigh he lazily watched the rise and fall of her chest as she dozed off.
No, he would not give up on her. And one day, when she was ready, she wouldn’t
need a dictionary and he would be able to say all these things in English.

--------------------------------------

“Kak, Vie sapruga Viktor, da?” – What, you are Viktor’s
wife?

“Viktor! Ti priyatel ist hier!” – Viktor! Your friend
is here!

Kavarma Kebap – Ugh, best Bulgarian dish in the
world! It’s just like a loaf of beef cut into thin strips, seasoned with salt,
pepper and paprika and sautéed in its own juices, with wine and garlic, and
with chopped onions. Though unions are gross so I don’t use them.

Airian – It’s a drink that’s not only popular in
Bulgaria but most other countries as well. And no its not liquor as far as I
know. I mean, u can add liquor to it, like eggnog or something but it’s
basically yogurt, mineral water, salt, and some lemon. Its pretty thick and
sweet, but I like it too.

“Viktor! Kade e ti?” – Viktor! Where are you?

“Kon da ti go natrese!” – Bulgarian swearing. I would
give you the English translation but it doesn’t make sense in our language, I
mean as a swear it wouldn’t make sense to us. It would just be gross.

Balgarski – Bulgarian

“Ti viy desh za me nya?” – Will you marry me?
- 1
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Bulgarian Mascara

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