Family and Friends

Phoenix Song, Chapter Seventeen : Family and Friends

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.

My betas, LAxo and WriterMerrin, are a fangirl's dream come true.

WARNING : In the words of my brilliant beta WriterMerrin, "I don't think I've ever seen that much Viktor action in a SSHG piece, but I think it works well in establishing the Hermione you seem to be going for." Consider yourselves warned.

Viktor Krum made Hermione feel wonderful. While objectively, he looked at her much the same way that McLaggen did, one man's gaze made her feel sexy and powerful, the other dirty and shameful. She loved the way his brows creased together when he was thinking. She loved the difference between his awkward shuffling walk and the liquid power and grace of his movements on a broom. She loved the way his speech quickened when he was excited about an idea; she loved the way he mangled her name. After the rejection she'd experienced from Ron during this last term, some time spent in the company of an intelligent, admiring, sports star was exactly what she needed; at the same time, his presence also made it much easier to squash her crush on Snape back into submission. Not that Hermione was too stupid to notice the resemblance between the two men, but Snape was her teacher. No matter how intelligent, muscular or darkly funny he was, she would behave appropriately from now on. Her lessons with him were far too important to let a silly crush interfere in any way. And if she occasionally let her eyes flutter closed and her lips brush against the stubble just to the side of Viktor's mouth, that was her own concern.

Hermione had been terribly worried about seeing Snape for the first time since their awkward scene under the mistletoe, but to her inordinate relief he had acted just the same as ever. In fact, she pondered, several times recently I've assumed he would get angry and yell, and each time I've been proved wrong.

She sat through the opera in a delicious haze of contented anticipation. Viktor held her hand in his, and his thigh was warm against hers. The music swelled and pulsed through the air around her. Flowing over and through her, the sound triggered thoughts and responses that were better keyed to the events of the last few days than the story as it unfolded onstage.

At the end of the performance, Hermione and Viktor slipped out into the night and ducked into a dark alley. Behind a decidedly unromantic dumpster, Viktor put his arms tightly around her, his bags slung up onto one shoulder. Hermione pulled the Portkey from her pocket and held it up against his cheek with two fingers.

"Are you ready?" she asked. When Viktor smiled, she took a deep breath and channelled Judy Garland as best she could. "There's no place like home."

There was a sharp pulling sensation behind her navel, and the smelly alleyway spun away. She felt the warmth of Viktor's arms tighten around her and pressed her face against the firm support of his chest. Moments later, they landed in her bedroom, staggering slightly to keep their balance. The lights were off, and the room was lit only dimly by the streetlights outside the window.

"Hold on a minute," she instructed, fumbling her way towards the light switch. These days she spent so little time at her parents' house that she had to navigate mostly by guess. "There." The sudden light revealed a single bed, a generous number of bookshelves stuffed with everything from old picture story books to her textbooks from school, a white desk recessed into the gap between two built-in wardrobes, and a girly-pink colour scheme indicative of an earlier phase in her life. Viktor Krum and his sports bags looked almost comically out of place. Hermione stifled a giggle as she opened her door briefly and peered out into the hall. The lights were all out, and her parents surely asleep: they were not the kind to stay up late worrying. Viktor could greet them in the morning. She shut the door again and leant against it, her hands pressed to the wood behind her back. The full import of Viktor's presence in her bedroom was pressing insistently to the forefront of her mind and sending small tendrils of desire creeping outwards from her belly. Hermione felt suddenly very warm and stripped off her hat and gloves, unwinding her scarf and tossing it onto the bedside table.

"My parents made up the spare bed for you, but, er, you're welcome to sleep here if you'd like." Hermione felt suddenly nervous.

Viktor had put down his bags and sat gingerly on the side of her bed. "From one of your letters, I got the impression...forgive me if I'm wrong...that perhaps there voz something between you and your friend Ron."

Hermione didn't bother to conceal the bitterness of her reply. "He has a girlfriend."

"Ah. His loss." Viktor looked at her with an almost-sympathetic smirk.

"Um, do you have a girlfriend?" Since they were asking and answering the appropriate questions, Hermione thought it best to be thorough, although, from the way he had held her hand at the opera, she was betting on a "no."

Viktor shrugged. "No. Where there's Quidditch, however, there are always girls . . ." Although he trailed off, Hermione had no trouble interpreting his meaning.

"I'm not looking for a relationship, as such . . ." Hermione had no intention of luring him into her bed under false pretences.

At that, he grinned, transforming his serious face entirely. There was an intensity to his gaze that pooled deep in her gut, and she pushed herself off the door and stepped over towards the bed. "If we only haff five days, Herm-own-ninny, we'd best make the most of them." He reached out and brushed the back of his hand lightly down her cheek before winding one of her curls around his finger. "It vould be my very great pleasure to sleep here tonight."

"Good," smiled Hermione, elated by the prospect. She placed her hands firmly on his chest and pushed him backwards onto the bed, climbing on top to straddle him. "Although I should warn you, sleeping wasn't exactly at the top of my agenda."

As anticipated, Hermione's parents were unperturbed by the discovery of her sleeping arrangements. They were both ex-hippies, and her mother took a kind of perverse enjoyment in permissive parenting methods, delighting in the moments when she managed to shock her comparatively straight-laced daughter. Indeed, on the third day of Viktor's stay, her mother waylaid Hermione in the kitchen while Viktor and her father were engaged in a rather tedious discussion about the nutrition requirements of professional athletes.

"What's the story with you and your Bulgarian boyfriend?" she asked with interest, the gleam in her eye revealing a thirst for details.

"Mum, he's not my boyfriend."

"Fine. Your fuckbuddy, then."

"Mum!" Hermione's exclamation was half exasperation, half helpless laughter. "Where did you even learn that word?"

"From Liza, actually, which reminds me. She and Carla and little Thom are coming over tomorrow. Is your Bulgarian going to be fine with the whole happy-family-two-mothers concept?"

"I'm sure he will be." Hermione chewed on her bottom lip for a second. "I'll bring it up with him tonight. As long as he's prepared, it'll be fine."

"You haven't answered my question, young lady, don't think I've forgotten."

Hermione rolled her eyes at her mother, who had propped her hips against the kitchen bench and was clearly ready for an in-depth mother-daughter chat. "We're just friends."

"Friends who fuck."

"Yes. Friends who fuck." Hermione glanced nervously over her shoulder towards the living room, where Viktor and her dad were still talking. Pulling out her wand, she cast a Silencing Charm. At her mother's inquisitive look, she explained the spell. Her mum took it as an indication that Hermione was about to spill the proverbial beans and sidled closer. "Viktor's a great guy," Hermione explained. "He's smart, he's sexy, he's great in bed." Her mother smirked. "He really likes me for who I am. He likes the way that I look, he loves how smart I am, he's absolutely, not at all, not even the tiniest bit intimidated by me, but at the same time, he respects me."

Her mum was listening avidly. "But?" she asked. "I feel like there's a huge 'but' looming."

Hermione sighed. "You're right. But, he takes everything too seriously. In the long term I need someone who is going to make me laugh and gets my jokes. I mean, maybe it's just a language thing, but I don't think so. Plus, he never argues with me. I need someone who's not going to agree to everything so readily. Don't get me wrong, I really like him, and I'm having fun. I asked him to come and visit, and I'm enjoying him being here."

Hermione's mother reached out an arm and laid it around Hermione's shoulders, pulling her close. "I understand. I do. And I agree with your assessment of the situation. I just wanted to make sure I was reading things right, and to be sure that you were okay. You're being safe, right?"

Hermione was touched, even if she rolled her eyes and huffed her breath out loudly. "Mum! I use all the charms, and we use condoms. There's no way I could catch something or get pregnant. That is one thing you really don't have to worry about."

Dr. Granger patted her daughter's shoulder reassuringly. "I'm just checking, Hermione. I do trust you, you know."

Hermione laughed. She knew. She threaded her arms around her mother's waist and gave her a squeeze. She didn't spend that much time with her parents, but they were unbearably dear to her. And the older she got, the more she recognised bits of her parents in her own personality. "Come on, Mum, let's go rescue poor Viktor from Dad's indefatigable interest."

Hermione was delighted to see her cousin Liza and her small family. Forewarned, Viktor coped admirably with lesbian parenthood, although it was clear that out homosexuality was not a commonplace occurrence within his social circles. Still, while Liza was out to Hermione, Hermione wasn't out to Liza, and the visit occasioned the only really tense moment of Viktor's visit. Speaking with Carla and dandling the thirteen-month-old Thom on her lap, Hermione overheard Liza's conversation with Viktor with growing trepidation.

"So, Viktor, what do you do?" Liza asked.

"I play football." Hermione felt her stomach drop. Liza played herself, for an amateur women's team, and was almost certain to push this lie past the point where it cohered.

"Professionally?"

"That is the goal." Krum seemed blissfully unaware of either the bad joke that he had made, or the danger into which he was sinking.

"Wow! I've a ball in the back of the car; we could have a kick around after lunch! What do you say?"

"I vould like that."

To Hermione's intense relief, it turned out that Viktor was almost as good with a ball at his feet as he was with a broom between his legs. He danced around the Granger's small back yard as if the ball were tied to his foot with a short piece of elastic. Liza managed to get Carla and both of Hermione's parents to play for the first ten minutes or so...Hermione excused herself by promising to watch Thom...but once it was clear that Liza and Viktor were the only ones likely do anything much with the ball, the others retreated quickly to their glasses of wine, leaving Viktor and Liza to juggle the ball between them. Hermione surrendered the small boy to her mother and entertained herself watching Viktor display an entirely unexpected, yet visually pleasing, physical skill.

Less than a week later, Hermione Flooed back to school via the fireplace in her parents' bedroom. Stepping out into Professor McGonagall's office, she was surprised to see the headmaster sitting in the corner.

"Afternoon, Hermione. I'm sure I don't need to remind you of the charm to clean up your own ash?"

Hermione could take a hint and had her wand out to perform the charm even before McGonagall finished her greeting.

"Good afternoon, Professor McGonagall, Headmaster."

"By the way, Hermione, there's a new password: Abstinence." McGonagall pursed her lips slightly. "The reason for the change should be apparent once you see the Fat Lady."

"Thanks, Professor." Hermione levitated her bags and started for the door.

"Ah, Miss Granger, a word, if you don't mind." Dumbledore stood smoothly, opening the door for her with his good hand and gesturing her out into the corridor. Hermione followed obediently, her raised eyebrows the only index of her curiosity. Once they were several metres away from McGonagall's door, Dumbledore spoke. "I hear that Professor Snape and Viktor Krum were eventually able to come to an understanding."

A gurgle of laughter escaped Hermione. "Yes. They did rub each other the wrong way."

"You, my dear, are to be congratulated. Few people would regard either man as easily handled, yet you managed to bring the business to a head very smoothly."

Hermione flushed slightly with pleasure. She might think that the headmaster's ethics left something to be desired, yet his praise was rare and welcome.

"Ah, Miss Granger, before you leave, I must ask you to deliver a message for me." Dumbledore held out a small scroll addressed to Harry.

"Certainly, sir." Hermione took the letter and tucked it into her pocket.

"My next lesson with Harry is scheduled for tomorrow evening. I understand that Professor Snape will also be available at that time should you wish to have a lesson."

"Thank you, that would be wonderful." Hermione beamed at the prospect of class with Snape.

"I will let him know." The headmaster made a formal bow and turned as if to leave.

"Um, Professor?" she ventured suddenly, surprising even herself with the question. Dumbledore turned back at once. "You, er, wouldn't happen to know the whereabouts of the list of members of Dumbledore's Army, would you?" She knew she'd phrased the question awkwardly, and she inwardly winced.

"I would indeed." Dumbledore beamed at her. "I have been keeping it safe on the assumption that you would eventually wish to relieve poor Miss Edgecombe of the visible reminder of her actions." He twirled his wand with his blackened hand, conjuring the parchment, which drifted gently down towards Hermione until she caught hold of it.

Staring at the list of signatures, she felt oddly melancholy. "Thank you, sir," she replied politely. "I do."

Dumbledore twinkled at her over his glasses. "Will that be all, Miss Granger?" he asked.

"Do you know why she betrayed us to Umbridge?" she responded, unable to hold back the question.

"Her mother works at the Ministry," explained Dumbledore, not unkindly, "I understand that it came down to a question of friends or family."

Hermione swallowed heavily, disgusted with herself for not having removed the curse earlier. "Thank you, sir," she replied mechanically, before turning and heading for the Gryffindor common room, her luggage floating behind her. It was only once she'd reached the Tower that it occurred to her to wonder why Dumbledore hadn't removed the jinx himself; he was more than capable after all.

Harry, Ron and Ginny arrived from the Burrow a couple of hours later, and Hermione ran into them on her way back from the library. Buoyed up by the memory of Viktor Krum, who floated just behind her breastbone, she ignored Ron entirely, and not even his enthusiastic reunion with Lavender punctured her equanimity.

Harry was bursting with news and wasted no time in pulling her aside to fill her in: Rufus Scrimgeour's surprise Christmas visit, Lupin's time undercover with Fenrir Greyback's werewolf pack, and most importantly, the overheard conversation between Draco Malfoy and Professor Snape.

Hermione turned the new information over in her brain, trying to make sense of it. Malfoy was definitely up to something; she couldn't deny that any longer, although she was still disturbed by the vindictive anger he triggered in Harry and she did her best to point out the leaps of logic in Harry's assessment of the situation. Doing so, however, inevitably reminded her of the particular summer afternoon when she and Ron had decided on the plan to downplay Malfoy's role. A sharp pang of misery threatened her good mood. Why does Harry have it in so badly for Malfoy and Professor Snape? she wondered, insistent on distracting herself. At least this time, Snape was easier to defend. Professor Snape was obviously trying to work out what Malfoy is up to...and a good thing, too. Assuming that Malfoy was behind Katie's injury . . . but, an Unbreakable Vow? They're so dangerous. She wondered vaguely whether there was any way she could ask Snape about it without revealing Harry's eavesdropping.

This really was suspicious behaviour on Malfoy's part, even if his "master" didn't turn out to be Voldemort. Hermione's fingers itched to add these events to the Arithmantic matrix. It might just be enough information to make sense of Katie Bell's relationship to the whole. Hmm. She'd have to do it without Vector's help though, because otherwise Harry's less-than-justifiable activities would be implicated for sure. With extra equations to run, and tomorrow's lesson with Snape on the horizon, this term was promising to be every bit as busy as the last.

A / N : I know it's short! But to compensate, I'll try to have the next chapter posted within a few days. And a very, very particular thanks to everyone who has left a review!