A Year Abroad (Hermione/Viktor)

Exhile

Viktor awoke the next morning, wondering whether to go and check on the English girl. He was unsure if Vlad would go to her, based on what he had told Vitkor the night before, any fondness he held for the girl had been erased. He decided against the idea, not wanting to invade the girl's privacy.

He looked for her at breakfast. However, she was nowhere to be seen. Her seat had been filled by a younger student and the English group appeared to be very unaffected by her absence. He wondered, as he looked around, if anyone noticed her lack of presence. However, Aage soon answered his question by leaving the hall prematurely.

Hermione was awoken by a soft tap at the door. She wiped the sleep from her eyes as she opened it to find Aage stood on the other side. His face was that of pity and fear. He smiled down at her, but something in his eyes suggested that she had made a massive mistake. She invited him in, before dressing for the day, in her bathroom.
"You missed breakfast." Aage called to her, sitting on her bed,
"Oh, that's all right. I have no appetite at the moment, so that is not a problem." She called back to him. He huffed, feeling angry that everyone had shunned her as they had. When she reappeared, Aage looked at her with probing eyes, wishing to know what laid beneath the surface of the young girl.
"Vould you talk to me about it?" He asked in hushed words. She shook her head softly.
"Not right now. But, perhaps in the future." She attempted to save his feelings. But, the thought of anyone knowing that it was she who had killed Harry Potter was too dangerous to even think of.

They walked together and Viktor saw them as he was on his way to his quidditch training. She smiled softly at him, a kind of coherent thanks that he had not received the night before. He felt a strange warmth rise in his chest as he looked at her, walking to her class, not intimidated by the harsh whispering around her. But then again, she was Hermione Granger and she had no doubt survived things far worse than a school of hateful men. The fact that she was muggle born now appeared to be a problem to almost everyone. Fear had infected their minds and she was now seen as the enemy.

The boys appeared very divided in their reactions to Hermione. Some stared and gawked. Whereas others avoided her gaze, doing anything they could to steer clear of her attention. She was a freak, that was clear. She was different and intimidating and that was not welcome. Surprisingly enough, Luna, Neville and Cormac had been integrated into the social structure of Durmstrang. Neville had been picked up by a group of herbalists, Luna intrigued everyone with her talk of strange creatures and Cormac had been taken under the wing of some of the flyers. However, at lunch, Viktor noticed, not only was Hermione missing, but the grief stricken boy sat alone, picking at his stew, but never eating any of it. It seemed the group had broken down and half of the group were happy and the remaining seemed in the deepest pits of despair.

Classes had gone by and Hermione, once again, had found her solace in the safe haven of learning. She was leaps and bounds beyond the other students. However, her teachers found ways to accommodate for her. She could hear the boys snigger and call her names as she completed tasks it would take them a week to master. But this was not new, both boys and girls in England had made fun of her for her studious nature. However, if it weren't for her, who's to say the war would have been won? So, their juvenile bullying was pushed aside in Hermione's mind.

She was unsure why, but she couldn't be in the food hall, surrounded by all of the people. She had skipped breakfast and lunch. She knew that she should have gone to dinner, but she couldn't stand all of those hateful stares, all because of one boggart and one charm. So, instead she sought refuge in the library, where she had always found peace. At lunch, she had been alone. However, she felt someone follow her as she abandoned the idea of a meal.

Viktor watched her walk away from the food hall and he sighed, feeling ashamed that his fellow students had driven her to stop eating. He wondered, perhaps if he should run after her and ask if she would join him. But, he knew that his English was not at a standard to do so.

Seamus had noticed Hermione's absence at lunch and spotted when she walked away from the hall at dinner. He knew that the others had rather forgotten her, but Seamus was not going to let Hermione fall down this dark path. So, instead, he picked up an extra bowl of the stew and followed her. He was unsure as to where she was going, but he was going to help her, wherever she went.

Hermione sat in the foreign section of the library and tried as hard as she possibly could to mask the grumble of her stomach. However, having missed both breakfast and lunch, as well as the dinner the night before, her body was starving. Her nose perked up as she smelt a sweet stew. It was only then when she heard the quiet cursing of Seamus. He rounded the corner and found her, placing the stew on the table.
"Seamus?" Hermione asked, wondering why he was being so kind to her.
"I will not watch you starve yourself out of fear of a few idiots." He stated, pushing the spoon towards her, sitting down opposite her.
"Thank you." She replied, before delving into her stew and feeling fuller already.
"I'm not afraid." She reassured him, but he looked at her skeptically.
"Oh really? So why do you hide up here all by yourself, not eating?" He asked her. However, she could not reply. Perhaps she was afraid. She had never let idle gossip bother her. But this time, she could not help feel affected by the sniggering.

Viktor entered the library, wondering if the bushy haired girl was okay. She had not eaten in an entire day and he feared for her. He felt sick as the men betted at dinner, wondering if she would simply starve herself out of embarrassment. He knew then that he had to do something. He searched through the library and noticed books hovering through mid air in a very peculiar manner. He followed one of the volumes, until it led him to her, sat behind a stack of books taller than herself. He wanted to dash away in this moment, unsure what he could possibly say to her. But, she had caught his eye and he felt very rude to walk away now. However, when he thought of what to say, his mind went blank, all of his english eluded him and he was left stood, like a gawking fool.

Hermione looked up at Viktor Krum, who stood staring down at her, in a complete carfuffle. Hermione wondered what had gotten into him to cause him to approach her in such a way. Surely she was of no interest to him? She was a freak who had been shunned by society. She tried not the stare back at him, not wanting to make things uncomfortable, but he appeared to be in a great amount of discomfort.
"Hello, are you quite alright?" She asked and it seemed to shock him back into the moment and his cheeks turned a deep shade of burgundy, before he bowed and walked away. He had never felt that way before, so out of control. He had no way to handle the situation and this made him very uncomfortable. After that incredibly embarrassing moment, he resolved to improve his English, wanting to be able to converse with the strange girl with bright eyes and bushy hair.

Hermione could not stop thinking about that moment, in the library. His eyes were deep and concerned and his posture, despite being uniform, seemed uncomfortable. She wished she knew what had made Viktor Krum, one of the most famous men in the world, feel this way, so that she could make him feel less awkward. It only hit her once she was back at her room: the language barrier. In all of the articles that she had read about Viktor Krum with quotations, there had always been a note about translation. And why should he speak English? He had no English relatives from what she knew and he studied in Bulgarian, of course he would not speak English. And in that moment she had an idea.

Viktor had stayed awake all night, writing translations down in his diary. He would go to her in the morning, if only a sign of common decency, after embarrassing her in such a way the night before. He was mortified and he hoped that he could repair her perception of him, if nothing else. It was the weekend, so there were no classes and no need to wake as early as usual. So, Viktor walked, an hour later than usual, to the hall. However, this morning he passed it, with his diary in hand, prepared to save his pride.