A Year Abroad (Hermione/Viktor)

The Split

Viktor sat at the bar at the post-match party. He stared into his drink as he contemplated the decision that he had made. He would never be a Durmstrang student again. His education was complete. This thought scared him. All he had ever known was a life of education. He had lived and breathed Durmstrang for years and leaving that would not be easy.

He couldn't think of Hermione. Every time her sweet face flashed in his mind, it was set in stone. He should have told her. A day or two would have been acceptable, but a whole week was too long to keep such a secret. She had done everything she could to help him, despite all of the challenges in her own life. Only a little rain and he crumbled. She was stronger than him, and he knew that. She had seen and done things that he could not imagine and it had made her tough and resilient.

Viktor was convinced that Hermione was going to be gone, with all of her things, when he eventually went home. That was why he stuck around and enjoyed the company of his team mates. But he was never having fun, not really. Because at the back of his mind, he had a worry, a deep worry, that the one person he truly cared about was going to be gone.

Hermione had stayed up as long as she could. She had cooked herself dinner, after Chigvintsev left. She ate alone and after dinner, she curled up with a book on the sofa and read until her eyes fell closed and the book slipped through her fingers.

Finally, in the early hours of the morning, Viktor apparated home. To his surprise, there were no bags by the door, none of his family heirlooms had been smashed in a fit of anger. Everything seemed as it was. When he saw her, laid out on the sofa, one arm extended to a book that had been long forgotten, he felt the air leave his lungs. He looked down at her sweet, peaceful face and felt his eyes water. She hadn't left. He had judged her too harshly. It didn't matter what she said, if she screamed that she hated him when she awoke. She waited for him all night, not going to bed. She was too good for him, he had abused the love she had for him. He hung his head in shame and went to shower and change.

Hermione awoke to the smell of cooking bacon. Viktor was in the kitchen, but he looked tired and worn.
"What time did you get in?" She asked, her voice croaky.
"Too late." He replied simply. He was ashamed.
"I waited up, but it got so late that I, well." She gestured to the sofa.
"You didn't have to stay up for me." He was being defensive. He just wanted this whole situation to go away. Hermione felt attacked, she was unsure what was going on. He should be the one apologising.

Both were silent for a minute or two, but then Hermione remembered her news that she wanted to tell Viktor.
"You will never believe what Chigvintsev told me yesterday!" She began, trying to lift the mood of the room.
"Vhat?" Viktor asked.
"I am going to Hogwarts, for the Triwizard Tournament." Viktor froze. This was not the reaction that Hermione was hoping for. Her face slowly fell as the seconds went by, silent.
"Are you being serious?" He turned, his attention leaving the bacon now.
"Yes, why wouldn't I be?" She asked, shocked.
"There is no vay you can compete." He shook his head. It was too dangerous for Hermione to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. She had already suffered from injuries, she was not fit to compete.
"Oh, so just because I have a limp I can't compete. Well I am sure I could cast you into the ground if I wanted." She was offended. She had helped defeat you-know-who and now she wasn't fit to face a few witches and wizards her age? She was deeply offended.
"I am sure you can." He replied, wanting to end the conversation.

Hermione took a moment to cool off and prepare her response.
"Well, someone has to go. Seen as you decided to leave Durmstrang and not tell anyone." Viktor sighed. He had no response.
"I am sorry." He replied, hoping that it would make it all better.
"For what? For keeping it from me? For keeping it from Chigvintsev? For then staying out all night because you didn't want to have this conversation?" Her voice rose until she was shouting, all passion and tears.
"And can you blame me?" He asked her and that was the last straw. She understood now. He needed to be on his own. He had made it obvious that, at the moment, he did not want her around. Fine, she would give him his space.