Viktor Victorious

Phoenix Song, Chapter Sixteen : Viktor Victorious

DISCLAIMER : The characters and many of the situations described in this story are the property of the incomparable J.K. Rowling. I make no money from this story, which exists as a work of tribute.

I owe the coherence and comprehensibility of this story to the tireless efforts of my two betas, LAxo and WriterMerrin. Thank you!

Severus regarded his reflection with a grim expression. Any hope that he might not look as bad as he felt was immediately dashed. Letting the warm water run, he scrubbed roughly at his face with a wet flannel, willing away the gritty feel of his eye sockets and the dark circles that showed below them; sleep had proved an evasive bedfellow. Every time he had closed his eyes, he had relived...in agonising detail...his encounter under the mistletoe with Hermione Granger. With his eyes open, his brain had churned over Draco's idiotic behaviour, Dumbledore's inexplicable actions, and the probable consequences of the promises he himself had made on both of their behalves. His life was falling apart.

Why had Draco chosen this year of all years to finally strike out at some form of independence? Why did he no longer trust his Head of House? Why hadn't Draco noticed that the Dark Lord's treatment of the Malfoys senior didn't precisely bode well for his own safety?

Severus turned off the tap and buried his face in a towel.

The collateral damage from Draco's last plan had only barely been contained; Katie Bell had had a lucky escape. Merlin alone knew how many others would be endangered by Draco's continued attempts to murder Albus Dumbledore.

Dumbledore.

Severus sighed and threaded the towel back over the rail.

Dumbledore was losing it. There was no other explanation for his reaction to the news about Jocelyn Smith. While the old man irritated Severus beyond measure, there was a real affection in their relationship. Severus couldn't bear to watch him falter. He couldn't bear the idea that Dumbledore was dying. And Severus absolutely positively didn't want to be the one to kill him. It wasn't fair. Certainly the choice before him wasn't fair: kill Dumbledore, help Draco kill Dumbledore, or die.

Ye gods, given the probable consequences of carrying through on the double promise he had made, dying looked like a pretty good option.

Except.

Except here he was. And he didn't want to die.

Since when? he wondered, examining his reflection curiously. When had that changed? His life had been in danger for years...from the Dark Lord, from the Aurors, from suspicious Order members, from the sharp fragments of Longbottom's cauldrons...he hadn't cared. Perhaps it was the difference between having a chance of survival and certain death. Perhaps, he thought suddenly, leaning towards his reflection and scowling with intense self-loathing, it's Hermione Granger?

He didn't know what was worse: the thoughts engendered by the abortive kiss, or those triggered by the way she flinched afterwards.

Severus groaned.

Merlin, but he'd been tempted to let her kiss him. The details came rushing back...the deep blue of her dress, the inch of scar along her collar bone, the way her curls hung dishevelled around her neck. The curve of her bare shoulder, the soft protrusion of her lower lip, the smudge of her eyelashes against her cheek. Her smell.

Severus swallowed and gripped the edges of the wash basin tightly. The warm flush of arousal made him slightly nauseous. He'd never imagined himself to be the kind of man who lusted after his students. He didn't want to be. Gods, if Minerva knew, she'd have his balls. Albus...Albus would smile understandingly and suggest that to have known such desire and resisted it made him a better man. But for Minerva, the thought itself would be a crime. And Severus was inclined to side with Minerva on this one.

Hermione hadn't looked like a student, but that didn't help. Quite the contrary. Her outfit had forced Severus to recognise the important qualitative difference between inspiring fear in the student body at large and watching a beautiful woman cringe from him with physical fear. It awoke an old nightmare.

His father, Tobias Snape, had been a boor and a bully. He feared book learning and things that he couldn't immediately understand, magic first and foremost. His son, Severus, had inherited his temper along with his nose. Yet while Severus was by no means a kind man, he had quickly realised that inflicting physical pain on those smaller and weaker than him brought him no pleasure. Severus had channelled his cruel streak, his unhappy childhood, his acerbic sense of humour and a cutting intelligence into a path fundamentally opposed to that of his father. His chosen weapon was his sharp-edged tongue; he despised those who resorted to brute force, and he flaunted his intellectual superiority. He also took a vindictive pleasure in secretly being a better man than the so-called nice, friendly people around him.

Severus' reverie was broken by the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat. He lifted his head to glare at the mirror.

"Excuse me, sir," remarked the mirror apologetically, "but Lady Florinda has arrived in the sitting room and would like a word."

Severus growled in response, a low animalistic noise, but spun on his heel and left the bathroom. He strode into his sitting room and approached a portrait that hung on the wall beside the fireplace.

"Lady Florinda," he said, in a passable imitation of politeness and giving a slight bow of his head.

"Buongiorno, Signore," the Lady curtseyed. "Alcuni studenti sono già partiti dalla stanza communale, stanno per arrivare nel Suo ufficio."

Severus glanced at the clock. He was late. The vast majority of students were returning home for Christmas, and the Slytherins were to Floo from his office. Within seconds, he had donned his teaching robes. Pausing only to thank Lady Florinda and Accio his coffee from the breakfast spread laid out on the table, he left the room. As a consequence, it was not until the afternoon that he found Hermione's letter.

When he saw it, he froze; the familiar loops of her handwriting were immediately recognisable. He sat down, rolling the scroll between thumb and forefinger for several minutes before breaking the seal and rolling it flat.

Dear Professor Snape,

London, WC2N 4LH

Severus re-read the message several times. He had the impression that Hermione had chosen her words carefully. Absentmindedly, he brushed the tip of one finger over the words "important to me." What was she trying to do, offer him absolution?

"You're a fool, Severus Snape," he said aloud before folding the paper neatly in half and tucking it into his breast pocket. "A fool," he added, pushing himself to his feet, "with work to do."

Though Severus had most of the end-of-term exams left to grade, he decided to spend several hours restocking the infirmary shelves instead. Sometimes, the contemplative abstractions and physical pleasures of brewing were the only sane solution.

Severus detoured via Spinner's End to pick up some appropriate Muggle clothing, but still made it to Covent Garden with plenty of time to spare. Hermione was early, too, and from where he stood, Disillusioned, outside the window, he watched her choose a table with an unobstructed view of the room and divest herself of coat, hat, scarf and gloves. London wasn't as cold as Hogwarts, but the weather was unpleasant nonetheless. Hermione looked nervous. She was fidgeting with the sugar packets that lay on the table, and her eyes flickered between the passing pedestrians and the occupants of the cafe. When her face lit up with recognition, Severus turned. A cab had just pulled up, and the distinctive profile of Viktor Krum was clearly visible through the rear window. Hermione slipped out of the cafe to greet him. Dressed only in her jeans and a sweater, she bounced from one foot to the other and tucked her hands under her armpits to keep warm as Krum paid the driver. Two sports bags emerged from the cab before he did, closely followed, however, by the man himself.

"Herm-own-ninny!" he cried, throwing out both arms in an exuberant welcome.

"Viktor!" she laughed back, eagerly tumbling into his embrace.

To Severus' disgust, Krum lifted her into the air and spun her around. It was, he decided, going to be a long evening. Hermione grabbed the smaller of Krum's bags, and the two of them hurried into the warm and inviting interior of the cafe. Severus stepped back into the shadow of a nearby doorway and removed his Disillusionment charm before he followed them in.

Hermione and Krum had managed to stash his bags behind one of the seats and mostly out of the way.

"You look wunnerful," said Krum to Hermione as Severus approached.

Hermione flushed slightly and looked pleased. Severus scowled.

"Professor Snape!" Hermione leapt up from the seat she had only just occupied, her blush...if anything...deepened. Krum turned in the middle of removing his coat, the faintest hint of surprise registering on his face. "Viktor, you remember Professor Snape, don't you?"

"Of course," Krum replied smoothly, holding out his hand. "It is a pleasure to be seeing you again, Professor."

Snape shook the extended hand and inclined his head politely. "Granger," he remarked coolly, by way of returning her greeting. She gave him a tight, awkward smile.

"You two sit down," she suggested, speaking a little too quickly as a consequence of her anxiety. "I'll get some coffee. What do you want?"

"I vill haff a cappuccino, let me give you some money," replied Krum.

"No need, um, Professor?"

"A double espresso, thank you."

That earned him a hint of a more genuine smile. "For real?" she asked. He raised one eyebrow imperiously and tucked his hair back behind one ear. "I should have guessed," she commented over her shoulder, as she threaded her way to the counter.

Severus turned his attention to Krum. He was wearing expensive-looking Muggle clothes with designer labels. He had removed his coat to reveal a cashmere sweater that he wore over an open-collared shirt. Severus, in contrast, kept his duffle coat on despite the warmth of the coffee shop. The protective layers of the dark wool functioned similarly to his teaching robes and conferred a comforting illusion of authority.

"I voz surprised to see you, Professor. I hadn't realised you were the person Hermione"...he mangled the pronunciation slightly..."vanted me to meet."

Severus had no desire to make small talk, and he shot a glance at Hermione, who was placing their order, before responding. "Indeed," he replied noncommittally, squelching several rude responses that came to mind and casting around for something polite to say. "What brings you to England at this time of year?"

An anticipatory smirk curled the corner of Krum's mouth. "Vell," he replied in a conspiratorial tone, "primarily it voz the opportunity to see Hermione. I voz also lucky enough to arrange some Quidditch meetings, and therefore my travel expenses vill be paid."

No sign of the jealous surge Severus felt registered on his face. "Indeed," he replied once again, his tone as even as ever. It made sense. Hermione and Krum might officially have broken up, but according to her accounting of events, the sex itself had only begun after that point. It should have been no surprise that Krum viewed an invitation to stay at her house as a resumption of such activities.

For the next minute or so, no-one said anything.

"Hermione must haff a high opinion of you," Krum remarked, breaking the silence. "She voz very insistent that we meet."

Severus couldn't help wondering if her opinion remained as high as it had prior to Slughorn's party. "This meeting was my idea." The emphasis he gave implied that Hermione's opinion was irrelevant. Krum looked taken aback, but any response was interrupted by Hermione's return.

"Espresso, cappuccino, hot chocolate," she recited, transferring each drink from the tray she was holding to the table. She slid the tray onto a nearby ledge and sat down, watching Severus curiously.

He paused, the tiny cup halfway to his lips, and shot her an interrogative look.

"No sugar?" she asked, the mischievous glint in her eye belying the bland innocence of her tone.

He waited until she lifted her drink to her mouth before deigning to reply. "I think, Granger, you will find that I'm sweet enough already." The splutter of laughter was sufficient response, and Severus felt a little wriggle of happiness in the depth of his stomach. Yet his sense of duty reasserted itself immediately. Making Hermione laugh is not the point of this meeting, he reminded himself sharply. Swallowing his coffee in one mouthful, he replaced the cup on his saucer and turned towards Krum. Utilising the table for cover, Severus slipped his wand surreptitiously into his hand and cast a non-verbal Muffliato. Only then did he speak.

"What do you know about the current political situation?" he asked.

Before replying, Krum glanced at Hermione, who had turned immediately serious. "More than you might imagine." He shrugged. "Karkaroff told me quite a bit about the previous war, and I voz at Hogwarts when the Headmaster announced the return of He-Who-You-Do-Not-Name. Since then, I haff kept up with general events, and Hermione has told me quite a bit. I haff heard of the Order of the Phoenix." He paused for a second, his heavy brows creased together. "Vy do you ask?"

Severus gave the young man before him a long look before responding. "You are aware that Karkaroff was a member of the Death Eaters during the first war?"

"Yes."

"As I was, too."

Krum looked wary at the turn the conversation had taken, but not surprised by the information. "Yes," he said again.

"I still am," continued Severus. This knowledge did shock Krum. His eyes widened slightly and flickered across to Hermione. "I am also a member of the Order of the Phoenix. I work as a double agent." He raised one finger to forestall the question Krum had opened his mouth to ask. "I have told you this because recently, both of my masters have expressed an interest in you."...Krum's mouth shut with an audible snap..."I do not believe you to be in any immediate danger. The Dark Lord is seeking contacts in Eastern Europe, and your name was mentioned. During the Triwizard Tournament, you made a very favourable impression on several children from Death Eater families. The only stigma against you is the very public dalliance you pursued with a Muggle-born witch. As far as the Dark Lord knows, however, the affair was short lived."

As Severus spoke, Krum's colour deepened alarmingly and he clenched both hands into fists. "I vill never become a Death Eater!" he burst out, his accent thickened by his anger. "You can tell your Dark Lord that I find his methods horrible and the anti-Muggle propaganda of his followers repulsive!"

Hermione reached out and slipped one hand onto Krum's lap, squeezing his thigh gently. She shot him a reassuring smile, calming him slightly. The admiration with which she responded to his comments twisted Severus' stomach.

"I shall do no such thing," he snarled. "I shall tell the Dark Lord that you were flattered to have attracted his attention, that you admire his politics, and that although you are contractually bound to Quidditch engagements in Bulgaria and don't have the freedom of movement that you would like, you hope to be kept informed of events. I will tell him that you will be happy to offer any help that you can. Furthermore, Krum, I will expect you to make a sizeable donation to the anti-Muggle cause."

The muscles in Krum's jaw twitched, and he leant forward with anger. "You are not listening to me, Professor. My grandfather voz killed by Grindelvald...do you vant to know vy? Because he married a Muggle-born vitch! That's vy! Her life voz saved by the resistance, and she voz smuggled away. Those people are heroes to me. I vould never, never join a group like the Death Eaters!"

"You idiot boy," Severus hissed. "I'm not asking you to join the Death Eaters."

Hermione's eyes darted from one man to the other. The conversation was not going well, and her concern was evident in the sharp angle at which she held her upper body. "Viktor," she murmured, her hand still resting on his thigh. "Hear him out."

"Vot are you asking, then, Professor?" His tone and expression were belligerent. He placed his large hand over Hermione's smaller one, trapping it against his leg and threading his fingers through hers.

Severus took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose. "The Ministry of Magic is almost certain to fall under the control of the Dark Lord sometime during the next twelve months. If and when that happens, we can expect the enactment of vicious anti-Muggle legislation." He paused. Krum regarded him mulishly, his black brows gathered into a scowl. The penny hadn't yet dropped. "Some British Muggle-borns may need an escape route," continued Severus in the tone of one explaining things to an idiot. "Ideally, they would contact a well-connected foreign wizard who could travel throughout Europe without attracting suspicion."

Finally, comprehension dawned. As the expression on Krum's face lightened, Hermione beamed at him, reaching out with her free hand to sandwich his hand between the two of hers. Severus stood abruptly, pushing out his chair as he rose. "I'm going to get another coffee," he remarked to the narrow gap that separated his two companions. Standing in the queue while waiting to order, he glanced back towards the table and watched Hermione tuck a lock of Krum's hair behind his ear. While he had moved beyond the limits of the Silencing Charm and couldn't hear what they were saying, Severus was more than close enough to comprehend their body language. The sexual tension that had been evident from the start ratcheted up a notch as Hermione leaned forward and pressed her lips to his cheek.

Severus registered the impact of that kiss as a physical blow. For a moment, the world around him swum out of focus. Severus Snape was not by nature a superstitious man, but in that moment he experienced an inescapable premonition of his own death. His life was unwinding before his eyes...in reverse. Why hadn't he noticed their resemblance before? Two Muggle-born witches, Gryffindor house, top of their year. Both, dammit, too friendly by half with Potter. Both burned with an eagerness to do the right thing, both leapt too readily to the defence of others. Both women had chosen someone other than him. But, yes, this time it was backwards: Hermione had started by thinking him a Death Eater, at first she'd been afraid of him. Next, there was a period where his use to her was solely utilitarian...he taught her things she couldn't learn elsewhere. Then, he'd learnt that her relationship with another was sexual, and had been for a while. The kiss that wasn't really a kiss followed, and now he was watching her interaction with her lover wracked with jealousy. What did that leave? Severus revisited the events of his school days, reinterpreting them through his present: an argument, a friendship, a murder, a longing from afar. In that order. It all made a horrific kind of sense.

"Oy, mister, are you all right?" The barista's interruption brought Severus back to his surroundings with a jolt. From the look on his face, it wasn't the first question he'd asked. "Hello, then, now you're back in the land of the living, can I get you a drink?"

"A double espresso, drawn short." Severus pulled a handful of Muggle coins from the pocket of his jeans and sorted out the exact price. He risked another glance back at Hermione and Krum. They were wrapped up in each other. Hermione had her mouth close to Krum's ear and was telling him something in very rapid phrases. Krum was slightly flushed and managing to look simultaneously noble and modest. Severus felt a rush of anger towards the young man.

"One short double, sir, enjoy." Once again, the barista pulled Severus back into the present. Severus had a job to do, and his emotions had little if nothing to do with it. He lifted the coffee from the counter, noting with some pride that his hand was completely steady, and walked back towards the table.

As he stepped through the boundary of the Silencing Charm, Hermione welcomed him back with a warm smile. Severus stared back dispassionately. The short walk had been more than sufficient to activate the mental habits of a lifetime, and his emotions were back under his tight control.

"Professor," began Krum, his tone a little pompous. "I vant to apologise for my vords earlier. I voz out of line."

"One can only struggle towards intelligence at one's own pace," Severus sneered at the young man.

Hermione spoke then, smoothly interrupting Krum's prickly response. "We started to work out some of the details..."

"I don't want to know any of the details." Severus raised an admonishing eyebrow. "I only want to know how to contact you"...this was directed to Krum..."if the need arises."

"But, vy don't you vant to know?"

"Because," supplied Hermione, light-years quicker than her companion, "the less he knows, the safer the plan."

"Oh." Krum creased his brows and looked slowly from Severus to Hermione and back again. "You said that you are a double agent." It was more statement than question, but Severus acknowledged the truth with a nod. "How are ve to know where your true loyalties lie?"

Hermione opened her mouth at once to leap to Severus' defence, but he cut her off with one raised hand.

"That, Krum, is none of your business." Krum looked mutinous, the muscle at his jaw working once more. "But I will tell you this: regardless of my ultimate allegiance, I have no sympathy for blood prejudice."

Severus could tell that Krum was less than mollified by his response, but Hermione had returned her hand reassuringly to his thigh, and he visibly bit back whatever response he had intended to make.

"How can Professor Snape contact you?" she prompted gently.

"All mail sent to Viktor Krum is sorted by the team secretaries." Krum sounded reluctant to move on from the question of Snape's loyalties. "They read all my fan mail and check it for hexes. If you send an owl to Torvik Murk, however, it will reach me directly."

"Good." Severus held out his hand, palm up. "A couple of your hairs, Krum," he demanded.

Krum bristled at once, but Hermione moved to comply, reaching up and pulling three hairs from the younger man's head with a sharp tug.

"Here you are, Professor," she remarked as she laid them in Severus' palm.

"Good," Severus said again. He picked up his espresso and drank it down in one smooth mouthful. Pulling a pair of leather gloves from his pocket, he rose to his feet. "Granger, Krum," he nodded to each of them in turn. "Good night."

"Good night, Professor." He walked away without looking back.

Once outside the cafe, however, he ducked into the adjacent doorway and Disillusioned himself. Then he stepped back to the cafe window and examined the couple he had just left. Standard espionage practice, he reassured himself as he tucked Krum's hair safely into a small glass specimen bottle and placed that safely in an inner pocket. Hermione had both hands on Krum's forearm and was speaking animatedly. At one point, she gestured over her shoulder, and only minutes later the two began to put on their outside clothes.

As they stepped through the door, their conversation became audible.

"But vot about my bags?"

"Oh, they won't be a problem. Once we get to the theatre, I'll put a mild notice-me-not charm on them, and we can leave them in the Cloak Room."

"I can't believe we are going to the opera!"

"Do you mind?"

"Not at all, I'm delighted."

Hermione tucked her hand into the crook of Krum's arm, smiling up at him. "This way, then. There's a great little pasta place just down here, and we can grab a quick bite before the show."

Against his better judgement, Severus followed them. The pasta place was only just around the corner. The restaurant was tiny and very crowded, but the maître d' assured them that there would be a table ready very shortly, leaving them outside to wait under the pool of warmth cast by a gas brazier. Severus had been ready to leave once he saw the size of the restaurant, but seeing them step close to the brazier, rubbing their hands together, he edged closer.

"Herm-own-ninny," said Krum, playing up his name for her, "I haff something for you." As he spoke, he withdrew a tiny box from his pocket.

Hermione's eyes widened at the sight, and Severus felt slightly sick. Surely not?

"What is it?" Hermione sounded a little hesitant.

"It is a little something that I haff been vorking on. I vanted to give it to you because it was you who originally gave me the idea." Hermione looked intrigued. "Do you remember ven you came to visit my country?"

"Of course!"

"Vell, as I remember, your parents vere a little vorried. Mostly because you vere still too young to use magic outside of school. It got me thinking. I vanted to make something that could be used completely without magic...by children, or even by someone without a vand." He held the box towards her. "Go on, open it."

Hermione lifted the box from his hand. It opened with a slight snap. She looked a little bemusedly at the contents, glancing up at Krum curiously. He smiled encouragingly, and she reached in and withdrew a flat silver button, about an inch across.

"What is it?"

"It's a personal, voice-activated Portkey."

"It's activated by my voice?"

"Not yet, you haff to set it first. Once it's set, the designated phrase will take you home, no matter how far away you are or any anti-Apparation wards that there might be." He took the Portkey from her hand and rotated it sideways. "Put it inside your mouth with the flat side against the inside of your cheek and this protruding part..."

"The shank."

"...the shank, between your teeth." He helped to slide it into her mouth, his thumb grazing softly along the line of her jaw, two fingers dipping into her mouth. "Now, say something...but be careful! Choose a phrase you are not likely to say by accident."

Hermione creased her mind in thought for a second, then grinned around her mouthful of metal. "There's no place like home," she recited. Krum nodded seriously. He clearly wasn't familiar with The Wizard of Oz. Hermione spat the Portkey out into the palm of her hand and looked at it curiously.

"It's designed to be sewn into the inside of your clothes, next to the skin. That way you don't need to find it or remember to haff it with you, or worry about touching against it. All you need to do is say the phrase to be safely transported home."

"Viktor! It's brilliant! This must have taken ages!"

Krum shrugged modestly. "A vile, yes. It's reusable, too. It can be reset any number of times, entirely without magic; that way any child can use it. This one is designed to always take the person home, but I haff made others that transport people to other places."

"Wow! I wish we'd had something similar last year when we were attacked at the Ministry . . . You know, Viktor, this could turn out to be really crucial in our plans...how many people know about this project?"

Krum's response was interrupted by the departure of several people from the restaurant and the reappearance of the maître d'. "Come on in, your table is ready."

Hermione thanked the man profusely as she stepped inside, the Portkey held tightly in one hand. Severus was left alone outside, his heart heavy and his head whirling with the realisations of the evening. Turning on the spot, he Disapparated away.