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“Kiss, kiss, kiss!” the crowd cheered as Bill Weasley swirled the new Mrs. Fleur Weasley around the dance floor. Lively music filled the tent pitched in the sprawling field beside The Burrow.
The groom gave in to the chants happily, dipping his bride low in his arms and pressing a lingering kiss that Fleur reciprocated with muffled giggles against his mouth.
“Isn’t it romantic?” Hermione swooned as she sipped on the champagne flute—her second of the night—and leaned over to Ron. She pulled her gaze away from the newly married couple to look at the man who sat beside her at one of the reception tables.
The attention on him pulled Ron from some mindless reverie as he looked at her with surprised eyes. “Hmm? Oh yeah, proper romantic.”
Hermione bit the insides of her cheeks with furrowed brows at Ron’s disinterest. “I just mean that it’s nice to have a bit of hopefulness in the midst of all of this, you know? Finding something beautiful and bright when everything else feels dreadful and sad.”
“That’s a nice view, Hermione. Real hopeful,” Ron said with a genuine nod, tapping his hand on hers for added emphasis. He gave her a small smile, one that tended to flutter her stomach more than it used to in years past, before setting his attention back on the doily at the center of the table and letting his mind wander once again.
She’d hoped to maybe dance with him at the wedding. There wasn’t a reason for it—at least not one that Hermione was ready to address yet— other than that it might be nice to lose herself in the romance for a bit like Bill and Fleur were. They all deserved a break. Everyone knew that the war held all of them by a thread while placing a pair of scissors just within Voldemort’s reach. It was only a matter of time before both sides would be forced to confront each other once and for all.
Holding onto a moment of sunshine in all that gloominess didn’t feel too unreasonable to Hermione with that in mind. Her eyes lingered on Ron, hoping he might change his focus or feel inspired in some way by her musings, but his hand started fidgeting with the doily at the center of the table. He picked at it in a way that she’d grown accustomed to throughout the years, letting the frayed material represent his nerves and wandering thoughts.
With a resigned sigh, Hermione finished off her champagne and rested her chin in her hands as she scanned over the crowd of wedding guests, who laughed, danced, and drank their way across the dance floor. At least they seemed to be finding the silver lining.
“Slanchitse, did no one tell you that you must be merry at a wedding?” The voice came from someone behind her who leaned down to speak beside her ear. His voice was lower than she remembered it, but the name—Little Sunshine—was an unmistakable one that could have only come from one person.
Hermione swiveled in her seat to see Viktor Krum crouched to her right. She half-expected to see the sheepish smile she remembered from Fourth Year, but was instead met with a gentle yet roguish grin. “Hello, you! What a pleasant surprise.” She sprang to her feet as she greeted him, with Viktor following suit. His hand rested on her forearm as he leaned in to press a kiss on either cheek.
“I could say the same. I wasn’t sure if you’d be here given the rumblings of things,” Viktor said, rubbing her upper arm fondly once before taking a step back.
“Ah, yes. The rumblings,” she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth as she nodded in acknowledgment, letting herself linger briefly on the rumblings that plagued her world before giving him a thoughtful smile. “Well, we have to find something to hold onto. Weddings help.”
“Weddings help. As does dancing,” Viktor noted as he surveyed the dance floor before turning his attention back to her.
She felt a small flutter pass through her stomach as his gaze lingered on her. In their youth, Hermione would often squirm under Viktor’s uninterrupted eye contact. She was at an age where being perceived by the opposite gender was both a blessing and a curse to her self-esteem. Now, however? “Perhaps you could show me how dancing helps. If you’re not otherwise occupied, of course.”
“I’d be honored to,” he replied, earning a soft scoff from behind Hermione that caught his attention. Viktor peered around her briefly to glance at Ron and then back to her. “So long as you are not also occupied, of course.”
Hermione looked behind her to see a frown tugging at Ron’s features while he plucked earnestly at the poor doily that now was more reminiscent of tattered yarn. Given his proximity, he’d no doubt heard the entirety of their conversation. If she thought on it hard enough, she could hear a version of Ron from some years back ranting about Viktor Krum for an entire school term.
It was mildly amusing to her to know that he was likely on the verge of sulking over that unreciprocated animosity, but feeling jealous or annoyed felt like a better headspace for Ron to be in instead of letting his thoughts spiral about aspects of the impending war, so she obliged Viktor’s request by extending a hand to him. “All yours.”
Ever the gentleman she remembered, Viktor took her hand and guided her graciously to the dance floor as the musicians started on a whimsical Tchaikovsky waltz.
“How very familiar,” Hermione said with a chuckle as she clasped her hand with Viktor’s while resting the other on his shoulder, getting fond flashbacks to the Yule Ball.
“Yes, but different in some ways too, I would hope,” he said as his hand slid down to rest on the small of her back, taking up a much more intimate residence. The placement led to a heated flush to stain her cheeks as she nodded.
Hermione set her shoulders back for a more composed posture and allowed herself to be led by Viktor in concentric circles as the other couples on the floor rotated in sync with them. Her mind fell blissfully quiet, focusing solely on the heat of Viktor’s hand on her lower back and the consistent ebb of the three-four time within the music.
She had half expected them to dance in comfortable silence. They hadn’t spoken much during their short-lived infatuation during school and assumed that would also be the case now. Viktor, however, seemed keen on disproving her assumptions.
“It’s impressive what you’ve done,” he noted as they glided around.
Her head tilted to the side fractionally in inquiry. “What might that be?”
“Well—” he started, using a turn to bring her in closer to him. “—not many people could get lovelier in such a short amount of time, and yet you’ve managed to do so.”
Hermione tucked her face briefly into her shoulder to hide the smile that spread across her face before giving him a playfully challenging look. “Careful, Viktor. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to flirt with me.”
“I feel like ‘charm’ may work as well, but language barriers are a tricky thing, so I’ll trust your judgment.” His smile returned, this time accompanied by a wink that sent a wobble to Hermione’s knees.
She had wanted a break from it all with one night to take in a deep breath and not worry about waiting for shoes to drop or floors to fall out beneath them. With a content sigh, Hermione allowed herself to step closer to Viktor, her arm folding in with their proximity as her worries slipped away. Instead of dwelling on the war, she focused on being a girl in a pretty dress who was being whisked around by a boy who found her to be lovely.
It was fascinating to see this glimpse of Viktor. The last few years had been more than kind to him. His hair had grown and his face had become far more defined. Beyond that, several years of playing professional Quidditch had been notably beneficial to his physique. It may have been fueled by the two glasses of champagne, but Hermione had made a mental note about just how rigid his biceps were as they danced.
The song ended far too soon. Viktor had just begun a story about how he’d been forced to take dance lessons for the entirety of the fall term in preparation for the Yule Ball when the groups around them moved off the floor to mill around the reception.
Viktor released the hold he had on her back and took a step back, giving her a small bow of gratitude for the dance. He kept her hand in his as she reciprocated the bow.
“Slanchitse,” he said as he smoothed his thumbs across her knuckles, “I don’t feel that one dance is enough time to catch up properly. Would you like to go somewhere quieter?”
It was fleeting, but Hermione watched as Viktor’s eyes dropped briefly to her lips as he spoke. As a result, the first sentence that came to mind inexplicably tumbled out of her mouth. “I can’t get involved with anything serious right now.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized just how incredibly presumptuous it was to interpret his motives that way, causing her to cover her mouth while an embarrassed laugh escaped to diffuse the moment.
Viktor’s brows raised in surprise at the statement before morphing into a smirk. “That’s alright. I’d just like to know more about how the last few years have treated you.” He brought her knuckles to his lips and kissed them gently. “It can be casual.”
Hermione was quick to blame the champagne once again because she could have sworn there an unspoken conversation happening between the two of them. If she was understanding him correctly, casual could be nice. “Casual. Alright,” she agreed with whatever collectedness she could muster despite the buzzing excitement in her belly.
“Come find me in a few minutes. I would like to get some fresh air and I would enjoy the company,” he said with one more departing bow. She didn’t miss how his eyes trailed slowly down her body—head to toe and back again—with the hint of a smile before moving into the crowd.
Hermione watched him as he disappeared before letting her composed mask fall and replace itself with something closer to frazzled anticipation. Her excitement had burned through some of the alcohol in her system—which seemed like sound enough logic in her mind—so she quickly made her way to the decorative display of celebratory champagne flutes and reached for a glass.
As she sipped, she ran through potential outcomes of what “casually catching up” with Viktor could look like. It would be nice to see what the years had brought to him. Although, she’d be lying if she didn’t have at least half of an idea. She had always kept a passive eye on the man who held her first kiss and made her feel seen and desired when she was first discovering what those things meant in her adolescence.
A few minutes later, Hermione inconspicuously made her way to the tent flap and peeked her head out. Viktor stood just to the side of the opening, one hand tucked into his pocket as he surveyed the warm summer night. When she stepped further outside, he smiled warmly and extended an arm to her. Hermione looped her arm into his and allowed him to lead them down the small path that surrounded the wedding tent on the Weasley’s property.
“How long will you be in England?” Hermione asked as they began their walk along the perimeter.
Viktor shook his head slightly. “Only for tonight, unfortunately. We still have an additional month left of the season, and I could only get away for one evening.”
“That must be hard to step away while in the height of things,” Hermione mused.
His hand came to rest over the top of hers on his arm. “It can be, but having this night away has already proven itself to be more than worth it.”
Hermione found herself grateful for the darkness of the night to hide the blush that crept onto her cheeks. She remembered his carefully crafted flirtations and poetic speech from the last time she had seen him but always attributed her swooning over it to having a silly crush. Perhaps Viktor truly was that charming.
“What about you, slanchitse? Are you well? Have you been taking care of yourself?” He asked as they walked to a large willow tree near the tent. They were close enough that the noises of the party were muted murmurs but far enough that the light didn’t pollute the stars.
“I find my opportunities,” she said honestly as she slipped her arm out from his and moved a few feet beyond the tree canopy to look up at the night sky. There was barely a sliver of the moon visible, making the stars glitter fantastically against the black backdrop. “I make time. Usually in secret,” she said with a laugh. “Tucking away to read a book while others are working, baking in the early hours of the morning…”
She trailed off, feeling the urge to get lost in that train of thought of stolen moments to keep herself grounded. Thankfully, Viktor’s voice broke her from that.
”Finding secret moments like that are important,” he mused as he stepped behind her.
Hermione could feel the warmth of his presence, but kept her eyes trained on the constellations above her. She hummed in agreement. “I’ve never told anyone that before,” she admitted quietly. “Promise you won’t go telling the others in there my secrets.”
Viktor laughed, low and melodic, as he stepped even closer to her. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Maybe you could tell me a secret in exchange,” Hermione suggested teasingly. “That way I know you won’t share mine.”
”Ah, that would be fair. Wouldn’t it?” Yet another step forward. This time, Viktor’s hands reached out and connected with her body. His fingers traced faintly up and down her arms leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.
Hermione’s breaths grew shallow at his proximity to her back. “Make it a good one, Viktor.” Her voice felt hoarse with the anticipation of what was unfolding between them. Unconsciously, she leaned against him until his chest was flush to her.
He spoke after a long moment of consideration on her request. “I wasn’t very brave when I knew you last,” Viktor admitted no louder than a whisper into the curve of her neck. He lingered there briefly, possibly in a state of indecision, before pressing several gentle kisses along her neck.
Her eyes fluttered shut at the contact, bottom lip pulling between her teeth to cope with the arousal of the moment. “Is that so? You were a champion then, Viktor. That’s fairly brave in my book.”
“Thank you for thinking so.” He chuckled against her neck and let his hands slide down her sides until they rested against her hips. “But with a little more bravery, I would have shared far more than secrets under the stars with you.”
A low fire stoked itself within Hermione at the words. Viktor had a funny way of effortlessly making her feel seen and desired. How could she not lean into that? She turned in his grasp to face him, head angled up slightly to account for their height difference. “Perhaps you could show me some of that bravery now?”
Viktor smiled at that and raised a hand to cup her face while the other wrapped around her waist. “Anything for you, my slanchitse.” With a few careful steps, he guided her toward the trunk of the willow tree and pressed her against it, shielding them from the view of the party.
This was not where Hermione imagined finding herself in the midst of the wedding, but as she looked up at Viktor’s face and took in the flicker of excitement behind his eyes, she couldn’t help but embrace the unexpected detour to her evening. Hermione’s hands slid up Viktor’s chest and settled at the base of his neck.
The silence between them settled for a few moments before he finally leaned in, pressing his lips to hers with careful hesitancy. The moment she reciprocated, Hermione felt him deepen it considerably, embuing it with the effortless chemistry that seemed to always be present between them.
She’d shared one kiss prior with Viktor, but it had been nothing compared to this. Where their last one had been timid and a stolen moment in parting as he left Hogwarts three springs prior, this one was confident and heated. Viktor kissed like a man keen on making the most of an opportunity, regardless of how fleeting it may be.
Hermione brought her hands down to wrap around the lapels of his suit jacket and pulled him closer, letting her mouth fall open to his inquiring tongue while he pressed further still, crowding into her space. As he did, Viktor’s leg slotted between hers to remove any unnecessary distance between them.
Viktor seemed determined to kiss her breathless, and at his current pace, he was well on his way to accomplishing that. Hermione had to pull away after a minute, head spinning from the dizziness of Viktor’s hand carefully massaging her waist while he kissed her. Once she pulled away, his mouth found a different spot to occupy. His lips blazed a hungry path down her neck, forcing a shaky breath from Hermione as he sucked and nipped along the tender skin.
“I would devour you here and now if you’d let me, Hermione,” he confessed against her skin. “I’d love nothing more than to appreciate every inch of you.”
The charm dripped from his words, flipping her stomach in an overwhelming way that had her rocking her hips experimentally against the thigh nestled between her own. “Viktor—” she whimpered out as he bit into her neck.
“Whatever you need, love,” he offered willingly. “Let me give it to you.” Hermione felt the muscles of his thigh tighten as he spoke, giving her a solid surface roll her core against. The motion of it bubbled up a feeling of warmth and pleasure that she hadn’t anticipated, resulting in a breathy moan.
There was something so passionate about the entire ordeal. The touch of his hands and lips on her body had all but emptied every thought in her brain, leaving her to let feelings drive her.
Hermione’s hand threaded into the short hair at the back of Viktor’s head to hold him in place against her neck while he moved his thigh in time with her rolling hips. She nodded her head fervently and pulled him up to kiss him fiercely in an attempt to stifle the feelings that swelled within her stomach. “I’d like that—” she breathed out against his mouth. “I just don’t know what I want.”
Viktor pulled back fractionally and let his gaze flit between Hermione’s eyes and mouth before nodding. “Can I touch you, slanchitse?” His hand moved down her side and along her thigh until he reached the hem of her dress. Slowly, he began to push it up as he waited for her agreement.
Someone else’s hands had never been between her thighs before. Twisting her fingers inside herself well into the night had been one of the things that Hermione would do in her stolen away moments, which seemed to happen further and further apart the closer they got to all-out war. The idea of having someone else doing it for her drew out a soft moan of anticipation. “Yes. Please.”
Her dress veiled his hand as it moved along the bare skin of her thigh. The pads of his fingers were slightly rough, likely from his years of handling a broomstick, while his seeker skills gave him nimble movements that raised a shiver across her skin as his hand slipped between her legs.
Hermione’s breath hitched as he traced over the gusset of her knickers. Her eyes grew wide, realizing the dampness there that Viktor was undoubtedly feeling. As if confirming the thought, Viktor groaned softly and dropped his head to rest against her clavicle. “If we had more time…” he trailed off as his fingers tucked beneath the elastic, wasting no time in removing the barrier between him and her damp heat.
His forefinger swirled against her clit in a maddening way that dropped her jaw into a silent moan. “Another time, maybe,” Hermione finally managed to say with an air of hope in her voice. As she spoke, she shifted her hips in an attempt to get his fingers to press into her.
“I’ll remember that.” Viktor lifted his head and gave her a knee-buckling smile before kissing her urgently.
Hermione melted into him, wrapping her arms securely around his shoulders as he thrust his fingers into her earnestly. She could only imagine what type of experience Viktor had to be able to make her feel so electrified—so good—in such an efficient manner.
His fingers curved within her, brushing skillfully against her front wall in a way that made her head fall back against the tree trunk with a desperate moan. “Just like that, oh my gods.”
To aid his thrusts, Viktor’s thumb pressed against her clit and swiped at it rhythmically, each pass creating an unbearably pleasurable tightness in her stomach.
“Oh fuck,” he muttered with faint concern in his voice, pulling her attention.
“What’s the—” her words broke off into a moan as he brushed a significantly sensitive spot within her. “What’s the matter?”
“The wedding,” he noted, glancing beyond the tree with a furrowed brow and then back at her. “It looks like some people are moving outside.”
“The wedding?” The haziness that had settled over her mind from her impending climax had cast the wedding far from her thoughts. When it clicked, her eyes grew wide in panic at them being discovered while indisposed. “The wedding! Oh no, we can’t—”
Viktor cut her off with a searing kiss. “Shh, shh. It’s alright. Keep your voice down and we’ll be okay. Can you do that for me, slanchitse?”
If it meant she could keep his fingers inside her for a bit longer, Hermione was willing to try her best. “I’ll manage.”
“That’s my girl,” he crooned before pressing his lips to hers once again. Hermione used his mouth to muffle her moans while his pacing increased tenfold. Despite the faster speed, his technique never faltered, driving into her with a debilitating precision that left her seeing stars.
It only took a few more seconds of that level of undivided attention to bring her to the brink of her pleasure. Hermione clawed at his chest in anticipation while whimpers filled his mouth between swipes of her tongue.
“I’ve got you,” he promised against her mouth. Viktor’s free hand wrapped around her waist and held her close to him as his thumb gave her the last bit of stimulation she needed to send her over the edge with a cry into his mouth.
Viktor kissed her hungrily to catch all of the pleasure that radiated out of her, slowing to something tender and careful as the tremors of her orgasm subsided into a gentle warmth across her body.
Once it settled, Hermione let out a winded laugh and leaned back against the tree to catch her breath. “Give me a moment to get my barrings, and I can—”
He simply chuckled and shook his head to cut her off. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Hermione blushed at his selflessness but realized that it tracked based on all she’d experienced of him through their interactions. “Only if you’re sure,” she replied sheepishly as she adjusted her hair, which felt considerably unkempt after her unexpected tryst.
Viktor scourgified his hand clean and then reached out to help smooth her hair back into place with a look of fondness in his expression that made her stomach flip like his words had earlier in the night. Once it was back in place, he kissed her forehead and stroked her cheek gently with his thumb. “Radiant as ever.”
Viktor took a step back and extended his arm to guide her back to the tent just as he had led her away from it. She stole a glance up at him and noticed the same glint of a smile playing across his face that she was also harboring, just two cats who’d gotten the cream under the hidden cover of the night sky.
As they stood outside the tent flaps they had exited from no more than thirty minutes prior, Hermione found herself lingering beside Viktor in the warm nighttime air, not quite ready to end the little moment of sunshine that he had unexpectedly given to her.
He briefly peeked inside the tent to take a look at the crowd within before giving Hermione his attention and taking her hand in his. “You are welcome to come to Bulgaria sometime if you’d ever like to catch up again.”
“I’d like that,” she said as her cheeks flushed from his double entendre.
He brought her knuckles up to his mouth to gently kiss them, but at the last second, he lowered her hand just slightly and stole a kiss from her lips instead. “So wonderful to see you again, slanchitse. May it not be as long between visits next time.”
With that, he ducked into the tent, leaving Hermione to brace herself against the taut canvas with a swirling head and a giggle on her lips.
After giving herself another minute to collect herself, she returned inside to the wedding and locked eyes on a group across the tent to nestle in with. On her way to join them, Hermione passively caught sight of Harry staring at the landscape just outside of the tent with a crease in his brow. There was a distant look within his gaze, one that Hermione recognized as the one he’d adopt when trying to make sense of something.
For a fleeting moment, she wondered if Harry had seen something in the shadows of the night but willed away the concern in favor of holding onto the moment of sunshine she had been granted for a little while longer.