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Chapter Text

Viktor Krum had considered the idea of returning home. He had his position in the national team there, he had offers for dozens of jobs too, but he couldn't help but feel guilty for even considering it.

Ever since his time in the tri-wizard tournament, he had felt tied to this place, to these people. So when the war began, he was there. He fought the courtyard where he once flirted with young girls, his childhood memories forever haunted by the war. After the war, it seemed like there was nothing left so he returned to Bulgaria in hopes for normality but only found isolation. Viktor was a changed man, and he needed change.

When the International wizarding council announced the reopening of the Quidditch World Cup, the teams from his two hearts reached out and offered a try out. Bulgaria was first but he wasn't the same player they needed so he didn't make it, leaving England to his last resort.

As he arrived at the apparition point, he found himself in company. The man next to him was about the same height, his ash brown hair freshly cut. As Viktor sized him up, the man looked at him in awe.

"You, You're-," He stuttered before taking a deep breath and puffing his chest a bit. "I'm Oliver Wood. Used to play for Puddlemere."

"I am Viktor Krum. I played for Bulgarian National Team." Viktor replied, extending his hand with a smile. "You went to school at Hogwarts, yes?"

"Yes I did. I was a Gryffindor." Oliver replied, firmly grasping his hand before shaking it a bit too long.

"So you are the Oliver Wood then. Harry spoke very highly of you and your quidditch skills."

"Well hopefully you won't be disappointed then. Nothing worse than taking a piss at what the savior of the wizarding world says about you."

"It is not me you should worry about disappointing." Viktor chuckled and led Oliver down to the pitch. "It's them."

Once down on the pitch, Viktor couldn't help but noticed the small glances between him and his new friend. He could feel Oliver's eyes on him as he changed for his tryout and felt his cockiness grow as he lightly flexed his muscles. Growing up in the spotlight he was used to always having eyes on him, but Oliver made him feel different. The small glances weren't just between teammates, it felt almost like it was more than that. The only word that he could find to describe it was интимен.

He joined the other seekers during the tryouts and found the process routine to a regular practice back home with the Bulgarians. He moved through the motions of the exercises with ease, adding flair and expertise wherever he could. Just before they were allowed to break for water, the group was tasked with a race to do a lap of the stadium at top speed to see who was the fastest. Viktor looked at his competition and as he did not see the face of The Chosen One, he knew he would win.

He took off down the field, leaving his competition in the dust. Viktor swung low as he passed the other groups, drawing the eye of the other recruiters up to him. He knew how to get a crowd going and he used that to his advantage. He knew he could make the team and wanted to do his best to make it despite his fame.

He landed by his bag and carefully leaned his broom against the wall. He pulled out his water bottle and sipped it as he watched the keeper trials that had resumed above. The chasers took their turns trying to score on the different keepers, of the seven shots he saw sent his new friends way, not a single one went in. He followed Oliver as he moved to a different post, ready to take on more. Viktor watched as a quaffle was launched towards Oliver's post, another keeper in a yellow sweater swerved towards Oliver and caused the shot to go in.

A verbal fight quickly broke out and the players flew down to the grass of the pitch. Krum made his way over to Wood as he saw the two men get close. The other man pulled back his fist and launched it forward, meeting nothing but air. Viktor held his friend tightly to his chest, taking deep breaths to help his friend control his.

"You didn't have to do that." Oliver panted, pulling from his friends arms. "I could've taken a little Puff like Zacharias Smith."

"A Puff? What British slang is that?" Viktor chuckled.

"It was his Hogwarts house, he was in Hufflepuff."

"Ah, I mostly stayed with the Gryffendoors and the Slytheriens." He strained through his accent.

A whistle blew and players started taking back to the skies as tryouts started up again. Viktor gave his friend a kind smile and a nod before taking back up to the sky himself.

-

Once tryouts were done, a few of the guys brought up the idea of going to a near by wizarding pub on the outskirts of Puddletown. The lot of them going carried their quidditch bags to the apparation point before whisking away to the back of the pub. It was a small brick building but once they moved inside, Viktor noticed an enlargement charm had been placed to make it spacious for all its patrons.

The group moved to the front corner of the pub by a large window, pulling chairs and tables together to make enough room for them all. Two of the men made their way over to the bar while the rest of them settled. Viktor sat his bag on the space next to him on the bench, claiming it. He watched as Oliver made his way over to the table and scanned for an open seat. With a quick nod, he slid his bag to the ground.

"Thanks." Oliver said softly as he slid past the others to the now free spot on the bench.

"No problem. I thought it would be better for you to be away from the Puff." He chuckled as the butterbeer was passed down the table.

The conversation flowed like Butterbeer, smooth and full of stories. The men shared stories from quidditch games growing up, flirts with broom bunnies and skirted ever so lightly around the war. Soon the sweet, silky drink turns to stronger spirits as other patrons leave and they occupy the space. The lingering music turns up as the lights go down and suddenly a clear corner of the room turns into a dance floor. Krum leans on the bar, listening to the ice clink against his glass as he swirled it in rhythm to the song.

Amongst the bodies in the crowd was Oliver. With a handful of drinks in him, inhibitions were lost to the wind as he jumped around, bopping his head off rhythm. Krum chuckled to himself at the sight of his new friend; someone who was once a nervous wreck, then a skillful keeper and now, a dancing buffoon. Somehow, as much as Krum tried to keep his interest spread across the group, always found his sight drifting back to the Scottish brunet.

"You ought to let your feet follow your eyes at this point." A snickering voice joked from Krum's left. The blonde that messed with Oliver's tryout was leaning against the bar with a glass of water.

"You're the Puff, Zachiaras." Krum noted dully. "You aren't joining in in the festivities?"

"I did for a bit but I try not to drink to much these days, easier to sleep that way." The blond replied, the unspoken truth lingering in the air.

"Some would say the opposite."

"Like you?"

"I think I'll take your advice." Viktor replied, avoiding the impeding uncomfortable conversation and striding towards the group of bouncing bodies.

It wasn't that he didn't want to talk about the war. The memories plague his dreams and most likely many others that fought on either side. But all there was to say was already said, and said again and again. Some days it felt like the stories were no longer his; they were some fable from the past, told over firepits and modified to the crowd's fit.

Once lost in the crowd, Viktor let his body move to the music. It wasn't anything he necessarily could remember but he shouted along in mimicry of the men around him. Time passed slower in the crowd, songs lasting an eternity as they enjoyed the pure bliss of the moment. His arm brushed up against a person next to him and as he turned, he was face to face with Oliver. He attempted to say something but Oliver just shook his head as the music was too loud to hear anything, so they danced.

A familiar muggle song came on which allowed Viktor to sing at ease. A guilty pleasure of his was old muggle songs, and Brown Eyed Girl by Van Morrison fit right in that category. It was once a song he had reserved for Hermione, humming it to himself during their study dates as long as he could before she shushed him. He now found another meaning as Oliver joined in, and his smile extended to his amber eyes. A feeling he recognized was back and he couldn't find anything wrong with it, интимност.

The night slowly died down, men Apparating and Flooing home after a long day of work and play. The two men made their way back over to the table, collecting their bags. Well rather, Viktor collecting both their bags as Oliver took a break to spew in the bathroom. Once he came out, his eyes hung heavy over his amber eyes, his skin hiding a green tinge.

"Alright mate," Oliver slurred slightly. "I better Apparate home. I'll see you next week for try outs."

"I don't think that is the best idea." Viktor sighed as he pulled the straps of their bags over his shoulder. "Why don't you Floo home with me? Better not to risk splinching yourself."

"I think you ought to buy me supper before you take me home."

"I'll remember that for next time." Viktor joked back as he walked them towards the fireplace before taking a handful of powder and going home in a puff of green smoke.

The two stumbled out of the fireplace and into Viktor Krum's new flat in Muggle London. It was a simple one bedroom with everything he needed and nothing more. Before he could be a gracious host, he heard a small dry heave from his intoxicated friend. He pointed Oliver towards the door in the hallway and watched him scurry into the room, shutting the door behind him.

Viktor set Oliver's bag down next to the couch before heading into his room. He quickly changed into an old Bulgarian band t-shirt and some joggers. With his own bag stowed away, he accioed some spare blankets and pillows from a closet and set up Oliver's spot on the couch. With no movement coming from the bathroom, he padded softly down the hallway into his kitchen to pour a glass of water. With a quick knock, he let himself into the bathroom to find a sleeping Oliver over his toilet. He sighed and set the glass aside to lift the man over to the couch before tucking him in. A fleeting idea crossed his mind and he wasn't sure if it was the Firewhisky or not but he bent down and pressed a light kiss to Oliver's forehead before going to bed himself.

Chapter Text

Morning came with a bang for Oliver as pans clattered in the kitchen. The bright midday sun shone into the living room he did not recognize. He sat up a bit too quickly for his headache but needed to find his wand, find where the noise was coming from. But just as he gripped his wand, an apron clad Viktor Krum waltzed down the hallway, stirring a bowl of something.

"Good, you're awake. I've got a pepper up potion for you and I'm making waffles. Would you like some?" Krum said with a smile.

"I'll take both." Oliver groaned as he swung his legs to the ground, noticing he was in the same clothes as the day before.

"There are towels and some spare clothes for you in the bathroom. Take a shower, you stink." Krum called as he walked back into the kitchen.

Oliver was in no place to argue as he agreed, he did smell. He peeled himself off the couch before dragging over to the bathroom and starting up the shower. The hot water felt good against his skin as it melted away the grime of the practice and the stickiness of his hangover. It wasn't until he was changing into the fresh clothes that he realized. He was in the apartment of The Viktor Krum, in His clothes and about to eat His food. Oliver wasn't one to be awestruck, bloody hell he had taught half a dozen professional quidditch players everything they knew about the game, but this was a whole other thing.

Oliver carefully made his way out of the kitchen to see Krum sitting on the cleaned up couch with a plate full of waffles, laughing at whatever he was now watching on the TV. He went into the kitchen to find a tall stack of waffles, along with some fresh fruit, whip cream and syrup. He made himself a plate and joined Krum, taking the arm chair rather than the spare space on the couch. The two watched the show in silence, smiling at the occasional silly joke on the American sitcom. Finally, as Oliver finished his plate, he decided to ask the question.

"So, what exactly happened last night?"

"Well, you definitely outdrank a few people, out danced all of us too. You then tried to Apparate home but I stopped you before you injured yourself or got lost." Krum smirked reminiscent of the night before.

"Well, I didn't say anything too stupid did I?" Oliver asked hopefully.

"Well I wasn't with you the entire night but you only made one kind of silly comment to me."

"And what was that?" Oliver winces.

"When I was trying to convince you to not Apparate home, you made a joke about making me take you out to dinner before bringing you home."

"Well that's not that bad." Oliver shrugged, trying to avoid the warming blush creeping up his neck. "I should probably get back to my own flat though. I've got to check on Miss Courtney."

"Who's that?"

"My owl." Oliver laughed, gathering his things and making his way towards the fireplace.

"Well maybe I can meet her sometime?" Krum asked sheepishly. "But I'm no cheap date. You'll have to take me out before bringing me home."

"Was that a joke?" Oliver asked, gripping a fistful of Floo powder.

"Maybe. That's for you to decide." Krum gets out just as Oliver calls for his flat and is brought back to his place in a wave of green flames.