𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎. fred weasley

𝚒𝚟. 𝚘𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚒𝚌𝚞𝚖 𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚜𝚒𝚜

✦✧✦

     Viktor looks at Cress, eyebrows furrowed and eyes blank. Cress stares back, her own eyes watering in an attempt to keep them open. She is sitting criss-cross on her bed and Viktor is standing across from her, all miniature and still. Cress hates him. A lot. For the past twenty minutes, Cress has been engaged in a very serious staring contest, and she is becoming very irritated because she hasn't won once. Not once. And she's like ninety percent sure the little thing is mocking her because of it.

     He may look all innocent and brooding and handsome, but Cress knows better. Underneath that exterior is a little tiny demon just waiting to end her life one staring match at a time. Here she thought that it was some cute action figure thing that she could give her best friend in apology for him not going to the Quidditch World Cup, but it turns out tiny Viktor is a mastermind who likes to watch people suffer.

     Now, sure, Cress may be crazy, but still. Viktor Krum is out to kill her and she's certain of that. Especially when she blinks (again) and the action figure looks at her, not exactly gloating but somehow still smug. The little shat.

     "I'll have you know," Cress points a finger in Viktor's face, "that I am a champion when it comes to staring contests."

     Viktor gives her a deadpan look that asks, "If you're so good, how did I manage to beat you fifteen times? In a row?" and yeah, Cress wants to murder the tiny Quidditch player. She officially regrets wasting seventeen Galleons on the stupid arsehole because he is the worst and she was going to take her thumb and index finger and ring his neck. Viktor continues giving her this smug look that still manages to remain blank and Cress inches her fingers closer to him, ready to strike.

     And then her door is slammed open.

     In hindsight, Cress thinks she probably should have heard the pounding footsteps heading towards her room, considering Cedric weighs about eight hundred pounds ("It's muscle, Cress. Muscle!), but she's going to blame her lack of attention on the nasty little git Viktor because basically everything remotely bad or embarrassing that happens to her from now on is his fault.

     Cedric stares at Cress for a long moment, then shifts his gaze over to tiny Viktor. Then back to Cress. She can feel the judgment from her bed, and okay, sure her predicament may be slightly odd, but seriously Cedric, let her live. Even Viktor is sending her brother a glare that might seem neutral to outside people, but because Cress has gotten to know the action figure on a personal level, she knows he's not amused either.

     (Honestly, that whole statement is probably saying something about her mental state - seriously, who gets to know a tiny Quidditch player, one that can't even talk, on a personal level? - but Cress is literally past the point of giving a fuck.)