Viktor Krumlov (vityas) wrote in snitchers, @ 2017-09-29 21:13:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | char: fleur weasley, char: viktor krum |
Who: Fleur Weasley and Viktor Krum
Where: Diagon Alley, then St. Albans
What: Two old friends talk about their lives, recent newspapers, discuss Fleur’s plot to get her sister back, and Viktor’s concern about Dementors
When: Tuesday, September 26 (backdated)
Rating: Low
Status: Complete
"Lunch, Viktor," Jimmy called out from the back room. With a nod, Viktor stepped from behind the counter, walking as quickly as the braces would allow to the front door. His boss whistled. "Looking good, Krumlov. You'll be catching that Snitch soon." Viktor's shoulders stiffened when he heard it but he gave Kimmel a quick nod and stepped out into the Alley. He was still recovering from a night in which he hadn't slept and he rubbed his eyes as he hit the sidewalk, dodging a low-flying owl on its way to the Post Office.
He'd sent Fleur an owl that morning because the talk of Dementors worried him, for more reasons than one. Viktor believed that the Ministry would solve the problem, now that it had been revealed. But he also wanted protection and he believed that Fleur was one of the most competent witches he knew. They had battled before as allies and, he thought, he would fight for her again if she asked.
Making his way to Sugarplum's Sweets Shop, he took a window seat to wait for her. A copy of Witch Weekly rested on the table. He resisted the urge to flip through it. Garbage was best left alone.
When Fleur stepped out from the inn on Diagon Alley she shivered and cursed under her breath for, yet again, falling for the deceptively warm looking sunshine. She would never get used to how soon the cool weather descended on England, having been spoiled by the pleasantly warm autumns common in the south of France.
As she walked down the street Fleur's eyes lingered on various storefronts while the memories tied to each one fought for control. Her fingers reached up to clutch at the pale blue scarf as though the chill had settled through her clothing and not the insecurities threatening to swallow her whole. Catching sight of Viktor Krum in the window immediately relaxed Fleur and a luminous smile bloomed across her face.
"Viktor!" The purr of his name, warm and full of comfort, stopped the table nearest to her as though she'd rendered them silent by her speech. Fleur paid no mind, instead opening her arms wide."Mon ami, it 'as been too long."
He smiled, though there were shadows under his eyes, and hugged her back.
"Yes. This is true." He disengaged from her and stood back, so that he could take a good look at his friend. As always, she was perfection on the outside but there were tiny details that told him things were not quite right. Her scarf was looser than she normally wore it, as if she had tugged at it once too often. The warmth in her voice, however, was genuine and he was glad that he had years of experience in hearing those veela tones.
"Come. Sit. I will buy you coffee." His eyes swept across her again. "Or sweet thing?" Viktor himself loved candy shops--the sheer variety of what they had in English stores never failed to amaze him and even now, it was enough to distract him from Fleur, his gaze sneaking away to a large display of floating candy floss clouds.
Even without Quidditch Viktor felt impossibly solid and strong; he could easily crush with his arms should he wish it. Getting lost in his embrace, the very scent of the Bulgarian, made her feel as though the last couple of years had been peeled back and this was a simple meeting of two friends eager to gossip about their lives. Except it wasn't. While pulling back her blue eyes searched Viktor's face and noted the shadows under his eyes (that surely matched her own) while she chewed nervously on her slightly chapped bottom lip.
Much like herself Viktor seemed to have been fraying at the edges, and a shiver passed through her body at the thought of the unflappable Viktor Krum starting to show signs of wear.
"Oo, mas oui!" Fleur squeezed his arm softly while looping hers through his left. "I 'ave not been 'ere since-" the smile suddenly faded, recalling eagerly picking out a small toffee and caramel cake for Bill; they'd rowed the night before and Fleur felt immensely guilty to have seen the face of the man she so loved to look so sad. "Well, ce n'est important. I would love a tea, I think, and a pastry." She shot a sly grin toward Viktor while leading him to the counter.
"This place needs vodka," he said. Thankfully his accent was so thick that it sounded as if he'd said "water" as they stepped up the counter. The woman serving glanced at the two of them. She was wearing a large pair of glasses perched on her nose and she looked down at the copy of Witch Weekly she was reading, then at Viktor, then back to the magazine, and then at Fleur. Her fingers tugged her glasses up high on her nose as she peered at them both and her eyes grew wide.
"Oh Merlin..." she breathed.
"We want tea," Viktor glowered. "And one-" He pointed to the glass case without even attempting the English. "Coffee. Black." Trying to ignore the fact that the woman was now staring open-mouthed at Fleur, he muttered a graceless "Please," followed by a "We sit over there" as he slammed a couple Galleons out of his pocket and on the counter.
"Oh, no, Mr. Krum," Her voice was small and high like a gasping little girl. "We wouldn't think of charging."
"You will take money." He tensed, wanting to walk away quickly but knowing that the braces on his legs would make this more of a scene. He settled for instead looking over at Fleur.
Fleur pressed the back of her hand against her lips to stiffle a little giggle; Viktor certainly hadn't changed and that fact alone made her want to cry from relief. The world could have gone to complete hell but Viktor - stony, rock-like - would remain the same no matter how hard life tried to erode him down.
Of course the girl would gawk at the famed Viktor Krum standing in a sweet shop with a mysterious woman on his arm. Fleur resisted the urge to roll her eyes and instead leaned forward just enough to get in the girl's personal space the way an old friend eagerly leans closer during conversation.
"Please do take it," Fleur smiled softly, picking up the coin and gently reaching out to press the coin in the girl's hand. "We absolutely insist, keep it and buy yourself something nice, oui?" Her eyes lingered on the clerk's dull brown hair. "I think a silver head band would look beautiful." These tactics came so easily to Fleur: they had won her so many arguments and cleared the way when others acted difficultly.
Viktor relaxed as Fleur stepped in, diffusing the situation as only she could. It was something that he thought others didn't see in her--the ability to use her beauty not only as weapon, but as kindness. The girl responded in kind, touching her hair as if she saw herself differently. As he sat back down, he noticed that the clerk was shyly examining herself in the reflection of the pastry case.
"I have missed you," he said. "I did not think you would come to England."
He left the sentence there as either an opening or a closing. He would not push her on her marriage to Bill. He was quite sure, judging by the looks that followed them, that the world had done that.
Flashing yet another warm smile, Fleur walked lightly back to the table while heads turned in her wake - an unfortunate side effect of using Veela Charm - and she slid gracefully into her seat with flushed cheeks; using those Charms always raised her body temperature. Too much Charm work and she would burn. Full Veela could use harness the power of fire in their hands, but this ability was unique only to them. Fleur knew, though she'd never witnessed it herself, some with Veela blood had burned themselves alive or inflicted irreparable damage to their internal organs from too much Charm.
"I didn't think I would either," She confessed with a down turn of her lips while absent-mindedly playing with her wedding ring. "But Viktor, I at the very least I 'ave to save my sister."
At the very least. He noted those words and also the fact that her fingers were slipping around her ring.
"Yes. This is true." Viktor frowned. Just then the tea was set in front of him. He felt the waitress brush his shoulder and flinched, feeling surlier by the moment. He waited until after she had left to set the tea in front of Fleur and take back the coffee for himself. The smell of tea reminded him of the night before and he relaxed a little. Glancing over his shoulder, he flicked his wand quickly, then murmured, "Muffliato."
"What will you do for her?" he asked. "Do you have plan?"
The waitress' body language hadn't gone unnoticed and Fleur giggled softly once more, wanting to lightly tease her friend about the advance though felt his unease shouldn't be prodded at further.
"Merci," Now she focused on swirling the tea with the accompanying spoon instead of fiddling with her ring. Fleur had not noticed these little habits of keeping her hands busy that had developed since Bill left, though she curiously noticed the needless movement from time to time. "Hmm, you will think it ees stupid." The frown deepened. "Everyone else seems to think so." Her voice bit bitterly.
"No. I will not." Viktor knew Fleur and while she was stubborn, he thought that she was rarely stupid. "I have question for you but this is first." He took a long drink of his coffee, savoring the bitterness on his tongue. But the smell of tea kept wafting over and he rather wished he'd ordered that. "Tell me."
Fleur shook the spoon against the side of her cup before lifting it to her lips without drinking. The heat burned the delicate pink skin but she didn't pull it away; for several long moments she said nothing, sitting motionless like a beautiful painting.
"I'm going to offer Lucius a trade: myself for my sister." Only Fleur's eyes moved, holding Viktor's dark gaze.
He considered this.
"Why is this stupid idea?" Viktor asked finally, keeping her gaze.
Removing the cup from her lips - now very red - Fleur shrugged simply. "They think, ah, I do not know. They think I can not do it? That he may not accept the offer? It has not been fully explained beyond a simple 'you can't'." Her nose scrunched in annoyance. "And perhaps they are right, but I must try." She tore off a piece of the puffed, flakey pastry. "What do you think?" Because if anyone would understand strategy and a win/loss risk it would be Viktor.
"I think that I do not know this man," he said bluntly. Viktor took another sip of his coffee, adding, "Do you? This is first thing I want to know."
He held up a finger before she could speak. "Wait. I have more to say." Viktor took his time thinking about the words before he spoke them. "You can do this. I have no doubt. What do you want. This is question I also want answer."
Eager to defend her strategy (if she could even call it such a thing), Fleur opened her mouth to immediately tear into the type of man Lucius Malfoy really is. The words died in her mouth as Viktor pressed on.
He believed she could do it. Happiness swelled inside Fleur like a balloon. All she needed was to hear those words.
"What do I want?" The floating feeling faded away. "I... my sister." Fleur stated simply once more, unable to meet Viktor's eyes lest he see the ruins of her life hidden behind the blue.
"Yes, yes, this I know." He dismissed that motivation with a curt wave, not because he wasn't sure of Fleur but because he wanted to get to the heart of her plan.
Viktor paused a moment, tapping his wand again to be sure the wand was working and then reconsidered. While it was reasonable enough that they would ward a conversation between them, he decided not to take further chances.
Standing, he offered her his hand. "Come. We go to place of quiet. I do not like to talk of this here."
* * *
A short discussion had provoked the decision to Apparate. He had let Fleur choose the destination. It was her plan and she had lived with a cursebreaker long enough that Viktor thought she must have learned a few secrets. After a moment to catch his breath, he allowed himself to finish the thoughts he had started.
"What I mean to say is after he have you, what then." It was not an accusation but a simple curiosity. Fleur wanted to do this and Viktor wondered whether it was escape after the fact that she hoped for or if she had other ideas.
Fleur hadn't expected to leave so suddenly, though it was no matter. While the gesture to purchase refreshments had been very kind she no longer felt hungry. Following the discussion to apparate, Fleur paused and found it difficult to find one place: they were all places Bill knew.
Finally, she settled on a spot recalling where she and her husband enjoyed riding bikes alongside a decidely lonely country road somewhere slightly past St. Albans. She enjoyed it for the hills and winding road leading to a large pond time had forgotten tucked behind the property line of a sea of wheat.
The first thing she noticed was the smell: warm, dry and airy. I'm out contained all those lazy summer days of bike riding and skinny-dipping. Secondly was the way the sun shone through the swaying arms of wheat, suspending little dust particles for fractions of a second.
"I will escape." And it was the truth for the simple fact Fleur believed this would be the outcome. "If I kill him in the process that is fine, but I will escape once I know my sister is no longer in danger." A sudden thought occurred to her. "Do you think I am to seduce him?" Her pretty features twisted in disgust. "I would die before I let such a thing. I'll burn myself and him with me."
"No. Why would you do this?" Viktor shrugged. She still wore her wedding ring.
He took a few steps into the grass. The smell of wheat and sunshine reminded him of rare sunny days in Plovdiv. He reached down, twining a piece of chaff around his finger and yanking on it. There had been times in his childhood when his parents had recalled times so bad that they had eaten the grass itself. That memory turned his thoughts sour and he let the chaff fall from his hands, fluttering to the ground.
"How does he keep Disciples, I wonder," Viktor mused. "Do you have plan of escape? You have not had much time."
"Because Bill-" Fleur cut herself off, cheeks red once more though this time from embarrassment. She let the wind and the wheat carry off Bill's name and whatever explanation that would have been offered. Instead she watched Viktor pluck at the wheat, curious to know what facts he mulled over inside his head.
"No," The weight of just how woefully unprepared she had been pressed down upon her chest. No wonder Bill had reacted so poorly: she might as well have said she planned on ingesting a poison while trying to brew up an antidote. "I... There is no plan." Fleur hung her blond head shamefully.
"We make one." Viktor had no doubt that Fleur was capable of doing exactly what she planned. The lack of a plan didn't concern him but it honored him that she would include him in it.
The wind blew in his eyes suddenly and he blinked it away. "I do not hate Ministry. Understand? I am no rebel." He wanted Fleur to know that this was done for friendship. He planned to claim no false allegiance. But he also would help her to do what needed to be done.
"Your sister is safe for time. They watch him now. Hermione give her this." He frowned. "How to find what you need to find." The obvious answer was Hermione herself but Viktor was afraid to take that path. He had begun a letter to her several times since his conversations with Kevin but had not yet determined what to say. By all accounts, she was a different woman. He was afraid to find out how.
At first Viktor's offer to help didn't register, it was only after he clearly outlined his stance on the Ministry did she look up and nod, daring to not speak. Whatever Viktor felt toward the government his help was worth more than gold in her opinion.
"Oui-yes." Truthfully there had been point in time Fleur agreed with the rebels, she even thought of offering support if only to honor Harry's memory. Except after giving birth she wanted nothing more than to cocoon herself and her new baby away from the horrors of the world. All the fire and spirit turned inward and cast shadows on the images she'd rather stay let in the dark. "Hermione. Bill said to speak with her, perhaps. 'Ave you?" Fleur treated the question gently, unsure of his involvement.
He shook his head.
"No. I can get letter to her but I do not write." Viktor's foot dug into the earth, his leg brace clinking with the force of it. "I do not know what to say. But I will do this thing."
He hesitated. "Why you ask this?"
Fleur considered him curiously; of all the men she'd ever known Viktor had never seemed the type to hesitate in doing what he wanted. She'd been aware of Viktor and Hermione's brief encounters though had lost track of their status over the years.
"I just... remember you were fond of her." Fleur replied delicately, now stepping beside Viktor to pluck at the strands of wheat. "Bill said," she closed her eyes with a wince, upset she couldn't manage to not speak about her husband. Pathetic. "I should speak to her. Draco too, perhaps."
"That was long time ago. Hard to keep feelings when you are far apart," Viktor shrugged. "She always feel for Ron. I know this even then." He scrunched his nose a little, not quite understanding the appeal. There was no bitterness in him about the loss--they had shared a dance and affection. Childhood dreams were best left just that and there was a tiny part of him that dreamt of other things.
"I ask her when I write," he said. "If you think this will help. But I do not know Draco."
Viktor paused. He'd seen her wince after she'd spoken Bill's name and he almost asked her about it. But he decided to keep his peace. If Fleur wished to talk about it, she would.
"What do you think? When do you do this thing?" His toe ground into the dirt as he asked the question, thinking about Dementors and Kevin and wondering whether that dark magic had anything to do with Lucius. It didn't seem feasible but then again, neither did a dementor attack, not in the way in which it seemed to be occurring. He felt relieved that he himself had not experienced an attack.
There was no point in exploring the connection between Viktor and Hermione. Childhood romances often rarely panned out: if they had she would have married Corin Dupond: the classmate Fleur had been interested in before laying eyes on Bill. Instead, she twisted a stem of wheat through her delicate fingers.
"Draco. Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy's son." If one could even consider them family given the fact Lucius had apparently created wards around his home that nearly killed Draco. Fleur's stomach turned at the thought; how could anyone harm their own child? Even being so far from her own was more difficult than she realized. "'E would know, non? Or at least understand."
Yet another part of the plan she hadn't considered. How had the even thought this was a good idea? "I- well, soon." It was vague enough to buy Fleur time. "Why? Doyou 'ave a plan?"
"No," he said. "Not yet. Was thinking of other thing."
Viktor scratched the back of his neck, his eyes drooping a little. He felt weary, despite his enthusiasm for Fleur's plan. Long nights were beginning to wear on him. He nodded at her, then pointed to the road ahead. "We walk for time. I do not get much sleep last night." His feet began to move one in front of the other, a slow motion with the braces, but at least it was forcing him to remain alert.
"Dementors," he said. "I want to ask you about this. First for personal reason but now I am wondering if he has any knowing of them. Malfoy."
Truthfully, Fleur was happy to take a stroll; she'd not been here with Bill since before Victoire had been born and while the land looked completely untouched by time curiousity tugged at her legs. Ever polite, Fleur matched her pace to her friend's, careful to not make him feel uncomfortable or as though he slowed her down. To occupy the time between steps Fleur let her fingers graze over the wheat or pluck at a leaf from a low hanging branch.
At least he is alive. Even if Viktor wasn't the same as before it was better than the alternative.
"Oui, I heard of the attaques. I saw the paper. I would not doubt it for a second that man has something to do with it." The frown melted into a look of concern. "Did it... Did you have an encounter?" There was no graceful way to ask something so intimate.
"No." He shook his head. "A...friend."
Viktor's walk stuttered a little, then he caught himself.
"I worry," he said. His brow furrowed as he said it. He would not have said it to most people but then, Fleur was nothing like the people who strolled so carelessly through his life. He believed that she would respect his concern, not shame him for it.
He looked over at her, casting the same sidelong look she'd given him. "You?"
That hesitant pause in Viktor's voice hadn't gone unnoticed. The Bulgarian was a proud and strong man, he wouldn't appreciate dissection of events he clearly did not feel comfortable with. Fleur nodded her blonde head, careful to keep her expression neutral. When - or if - he ever wanted to discuss the attack she would listen.
"I do too. It feels as though we achieved nothing from You-Know-Who's defeat." She raised her hands to press against the sides of her face miserably. "What 'ave we done but find 'Arry dead and Dementors freely roaming?"
He sighed deeply. "Heroes die young."
Viktor had long since resigned himself to the state of the world. In his mind, the government was an entity over which the individual had no control. He had been reared in Durmstrang, after all, by a headmaster who he half expected to appear by Malfoy's side at any moment. His childhood was ruled by fear and the better part of him expected no less now that he was an adult.
"So you join rebels," he said. Strangely he had not connected Fleur's plan to rescue her sister in that light before. There were acts of political rebellion, yes, but there was also personal necessity. Viktor had thought that Fleur's motivations were purely the latter. Now he was not sure.
"No," A small shake of her head. "I do not want to be involved. I want my sister and my life back. If... that does not include Bill I suppose that is that." Her expression remained stony, if only to keep the overwhelming sense of loss at bay. Talking about it so matter-of-factly made the situation seem as though it were happening to someone else.
"Yes. That is that." Viktor agreed. "You do not need Bill. Not for this." He decided it was better not to lead her down that road, however. Her face had gone so cold that she seemed to have turned into another person altogether.
"Back to Dementors," he said, seeking to distract her. "My friend, he has these dreams once. Do you think they come back?" There had been no evidence of it the night that Kevin and Viktor had spoken but they'd been in his flat. Viktor kept it warded as he had learned at Durmstrang--he did not believe that it would keep the creatures out but he hoped that it would at least dissuade them.
Somewhere through the coldness that radiated like a microwave Fleur silently agreed: she did not need Bill. Not for this or really anything. She could do just fine without him, it wasn't as though there were a shortage of suitors or she wasn't capable of caring for her daughter. If it came down to it surely she could simply move in the same callous manner as her husband.
The air seemed to warm a touch and the edges of Fleur's face soften once more while pondering the question. "I believe so, yes. From my experience a Dementor will continue to attack whenever it can find a source."
"This is true," but he sounded like he desperately did not want it to be. "These attacks. They have not come to person twice, yes? Perhaps this is different."
He stopped, pausing to lean on a stone fence near their path. He would need to return to his job soon but he was hoping that Fleur knew something he did not.
"They will continue to draw from the same source, so I don't see why they can not do the same." Though the idea made Fleur sick to even think about.
"Disgusting," Viktor was shaking his head. "They have not come to me yet. I do not know why this is so." He frowned. "Perhaps I look at journals, newspaper. See if there is pattern. I do not want them to catch me."
"Is it true they attack when their victims are asleep?" She recalled hearing of people complain about nightmares too real too be simple dreams. "They must be weak if to attack when the victim is asleep, but how to ward them when we are so vulnerable I do not know."
"Yes, I think this too," he agreed. Exhaustion was starting to make itself known again and he rubbed his eyes. Viktor wondered whether he dare sleep for a while. "You think it matter how well you are sleeping?"
He wasn't sure if he was expressing the thought well. "If you do have to have dreams for Dementors to come, why not use potion to stop dreams?" Viktor was sure there was a hole in his logic but as tired as he felt, he didn't know what it was.
"Perhaps? Though does anyone sleep well anymore?" She certainly wasn't, and by the shadows under Viktor's eyes he hadn't either. "I'm not sure if you need to dream to have an attack, but rather to be vulnerable. Besides, the risk of addiction to the potions would be too high." Suddenly, Fleur rounded on her friend looking serious. "Viktor, what are you planning?"
His shoulders slumped. "Nothing." Glancing up at the sky, he added, "I do not like to worry so much about friends. I want to do...something. Dementors are not good thing to be wandering free through country. Especially for children."
Viktor frowned, thinking now of Fleur's safety. "You have Patronus spell, yes?"
Fleur wanted to reach out to comfort her friend, but instead her hand dropped to her side with a tired jerk. She too knew the crushing feeling of wanting to do something.
"Mas oui; it is a dove." Though she doubted the ability to cast anything corporeal these days. "Et toi?"
"It is a fox," he said. "It has been long time since it was needed." Viktor, however, had no doubt that he could cast one. That was, assuming that a Dementor could break through the wards on his flat. He was confident in the skills he'd learned at Durmstrang--perhaps, too much so.
He almost asked Fleur if she had tried to cast it recently but looked again at the way she was standing and realized it would be a cruel question.
Of all the possible patronouses Fleur never expected the Bulgarian's to be a fox; she'd have imagined a great bear, an ox or perhaps a majestic eagle. Her lips quirked in a brief smile before sliding back in a serious expression.
"Why you look like that?" Viktor scowled as he saw her smile.
Again the smile appeared on Fleur's face though she tried her best to fight it. "Ah, no reason, Viktor, just talk of patronouses makes me very 'appy." At least it was a partial truth. Looking up and down the dusty road wistfully, Fleur felt as though she might actually be able to cast a patronous. Despite everything awful in the world being here simply made her feel so much better.
"So," she slid her hands into the pocket of the light jacket. "What now?"
"I have to be back to work soon." He said, not believing her about her lack of reason. "Jimmy, he bring sneakoscopes today." Viktor let out a long sigh. "I think he has contact that finds them on back of broom." He rubbed his eyes. There was a long day ahead of him still and he'd had little sleep.
He wanted to ask her about her husband. There was something about Fleur that worried him, even beyond her plans. It was a sadness that he had not seen before and he wondered if it was all because of her sister. But he decided not to ask, at least not at that moment.
"When do you see Lucius?" he asked, not quite wanting to let that go.
"Oh," the smile faded once more. She was sad for their time to end, having not realized just how much she'd missed Viktor. It was yet another indication of just how much things had changed for all of them. Fleur peered curiously at her friend's constant eye rubbing and frowned deeper; not even the coffee had seemed to work on him.
Fleur shruged her shoulders as though they were discussing the weather and not a potentially suicidal mission. "Soon." It was vague enough but not so far out of the way she could talk herself out of it before she realized how shoddy the plan really is.
"You will take care," he said. He hoped that she would. Resting a hand on her shoulder just for a moment, he added, "And you will let me know before you do this thing. I will worry." Viktor wondered to himself if he could be of any use if Fleur was taken or if, he could at the very least, find others who would be.
"I will," Tears threatened to well up in Fleur's eyes as was so common these days. "and you take care too; everything is so unsteady." She rested her hand on top of Viktor's for a brief moment, squeezed, and with a small pop apparated the pair back to Diagon Alley.