CHAPTER NINE

Bulgarian Bon Voyage

HERMIONE

“It’s hopeless,” Harry said in a defeated voice.

It was well after midnight, and Hermione, Harry, and Ron were the only Gryffindors still awake. They had spent the last half-an-hour performing various charms and enchantments on the locket but to no avail. The locket dangled benignly from Harry’s limp hand.

“Slughorn did say it was destroyed,” Ron said unhelpfully.

“We don’t know how he did it!” Harry exclaimed angrily. He socked his fist, still clenching the locket, into the arm of the chair but accomplished nothing in doing so. He pulled his hand back and massaged his aching knuckles morosely.

Hermione sighed, exhausted. “Ron’s right, Harry; it’s destroyed. That will have to be good enough for now.”

“If only there was something, some mention of Horcruxes–” Harry began fiercely.

“But there isn’t.”

“We have to know!” Harry tossed the locket to Ron, who caught it. The locket swung back and forth; Crookshanks eyed it beadily from his perch on Hermione’s lap.

“Later, yes,” Ron yawned. “Now, we need to sleep.” He got up, tugged on his too-small pajamas, and set off for the boys’ dormitories without another word.

“He’s right, Harry. You’ve been through quite an ordeal–” Hermione said reasonably, stifling a yawn herself.

Harry made a disgruntled noise.

“You need your sleep.”

“Don’t mother me, Hermione,” he said dangerously.

“I’m not!” Hermione protested, struck by his choice of words. She knew she ought to storm from the room in outrage, but found herself unable to leave him - sitting there by the fire and looking so vulnerable. “Harry, please…maybe tomorrow…you can go to the Library – read up on Horcruxes, you know,” she said soothingly.

“I thought there wasn’t any mention–” Harry said tetchily.

“Possible Horcruxes, I mean. You know - something of Ravenclaw’s, something of Gryffindor’s…” She stood up and Crookshanks wound himself around her ankles, purring loudly. “You’ll be alright?” He nodded. “Good night, Harry.”

“Good night.”

When she exited to the tower that housed the girl’s dormitories, Harry was still staring moodily into the fire.

Chapter Nine

Bulgarian Bon Voyage

Part Two

“Hermione?”

Hermione rolled over in bed, unconsciously seeking the source of the voice.

“Hermione?” the soft voice repeated. Lavender’s face swam into view. She was sitting on the edge of Hermione’s bed, looking down at her with sad brown eyes.

“Lavender, what’s wrong?” Hermione struggled to sit up, as she was still snugly wrapped in her tangle of blankets.

“I’m sorry,” and Lavender truly looked it.

“What for?” Hermione had expected that Lavender needed someone to advise her on dress robes or eye shadow colors. An apology was the last thing on her mind.

“We were never very nice to you, Parvati and me…”

Lavender sniffed loudly and Hermione understood at once; for years, Parvati and Lavender had shunted Hermione sideways, preferring to keep their friendship a two-person affair. Now that Parvati Patil was gone, Lavender was sorely regretting giving Hermione the cold shoulder.

“And now, we’ve been back three weeks and I h-haven’t h-had anyone to t-talk to! It’s so lonely, Hermione!” she lamented. “Now I know how you must have felt all these years…”

If Lavender hadn’t looked so miserable, Hermione would have set her straight. In her first year at Hogwarts, Hermione would have welcomed Lavender and Parvati’s friendship. Now, however, she was more than happy to count Harry, Ron, and Ginny among her closest friends.

“Oh, Hermione!” Lavender sniveled. “I’d be ever so grateful if you’d be my friend...!”

Despite herself, Hermione patted Lavender’s shoulder gently. “There, there.”

“E-Even if you’re d-dating R-Ronald!”

This was really going too far…

“Even if R-Ronald broke up with me – with me! – to d-date you!” Lavender choked, as though she couldn’t see a single reason why this could have come to pass.

“Lavender–” Hermione interjected, but Lavender plowed on recklessly, now having worked herself up to a full tantrum.

“Why didn’t he love me?” she demanded, her face shining with tears. “We had such a wonderful time together!” She ripped off her necklace and laid it on the bed for Hermione to see – My Sweetheart, it read.

“Erm…well…” Hermione stalled for time, desperate for a way to wheedle out of this conversation. Somewhere downstairs, she could hear rising voices and raucous laughter.

“Hermione! Come quick!” Romilda Vane burst into the room.

 

Hermione sprang to her feet and slipped a pink fuzzy bathrobe over her nightgown. “What’s gone wrong?” she asked, fearing the worst.

“No, no – don’t wear that! It’s him!”

Hermione’s first thought was that Voldemort had returned to wreak havoc in the Gryffindor Common room, but Romilda’s actions – she now bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet – didn’t seem to fit the bill.

“Viktor Krum – the Bulgarian Quidditch Seeker!”

“Here?” she asked in a strangled voice. The source of Romilda’s glee was revealed. She undoubtedly assumed that Hermione would make up with Viktor Krum, leaving Ron an eligible bachelor once more.

Lavender was obviously having similar thoughts. No longer crying, she tripped over to her bedside cabinet and began smearing make-up on her pale, tear-stained cheeks and yanked on a set of silky mauve robes. Hermione changed hastily into her school uniform – she didn’t think that the occasion of Viktor Krum’s arrival warranted dress robes.

* * * * *

Wondering vaguely what Ron would think, Hermione dashed down the stairs, smoothing her tartan skirt as she went. The scene that greeted her eyes as she entered the Common room was most unwelcome –

It seemed that the whole of Gryffindor house had gathered as if to watch a bullfight. They encircled the Common room – some jeering, others laughing  - all watching with great interest. Ron and Viktor Krum stood alone in the center of the room, glowering at each other.

“—she doesn’t want to see you!” Ron bellowed, his wand clenched tightly in his fist.

“Vell, I vont to see her!” Krum roared back. “Let Herm-own-ninny decide for herself!”

Ron jabbed a finger into Krum’s chest, “I’m warning you: stay away from her!”

Hermione slipped back into the shadowy stairwell, breathing fast. She wished she could Disapparate on the spot. Meanwhile, the conflict outside was escalating. She heard a muttered incantation followed by a crash of porcelain.

Hermione drew a deep, steadying breath and stormed out into the Common room.

“Ron – cut it out!” – Ron dropped his wand in surprise – “Viktor, no!” Viktor Krum lowered his own wand, the tip of which was beginning to smoke.

The assembled students gave a collective gasp. Ron and Viktor were momentarily startled into silence. Viktor stared at her evenly; Ron’s ears burned red.

“Tell Vicky to go, Hermione!” said Ron scathingly.

Viktor looked over at her, despairingly. “Herm-own-ninny, can I haff a vord?”

“Hermione, don’t!”

She ignored Ron and trailed Viktor out of the crowded Common room and into the corridor.

“How are you?” she asked, taking pains to make her voice as light and friendly as possible.

“I am vell. I haff joined the Order of the Phoenix. I vondered vare you vere…”

Hermione smiled awkwardly. “I am glad you came, Viktor - I’ve missed you.”

“You haff a relationship with this boy?” Viktor asked, scraping the toe of his boot across the flagstones.

“Yes, Viktor.” She felt as though she owed him more of an explanation, but could think of nothing else to say.

“Very vell,” he said heavily, a note of resignation in his voice. “I vill not forget you, Herm-own-ninny.” With that, he turned and slouched off down the corridor.

“Goodbye. Stay safe.” Hermione whispered feebly. She turned and gave the Fat Lady the password, Dies Irae.  
 

“Pity. He was a good catch,” the Fat Lady observed, eyeing Viktor greedily as she swung open to let Hermione in.

Feedback and constructive criticism are always appreciated...you can post feedback in my guestbook.