A Gleam of Hope

A/N: Many heartfelt thanks and much chocolate to my betas, Melusin_79 (who also Brit-picked) and Sahiya. Any remaining errors are all mine. Thanks also to Shalimar1981 for the early-on brainstorming.

Disclaimer: Not mine and not making any money.

A Gleam of Hope

“I’ve found it!”

Hermione felt like dancing a jig in triumph. It was surprisingly simple. With this, they could offset the paranoia, and then they could fix him.

“Vat is it?”

She pointed to the passage she had just read. Viktor nodded slowly.

“Yes, that might vork,” he agreed. “Vill ve be able to convince him to take it?”

“I think so, yes. The paranoia is focused on me. It’s extended to you by association, but not to the house-elves, and they bring his food.”

“You vill dose his food vithout his knowledge?”

She put her hands on her hips. “Yes, I bloody well will. It’s not like sneaking a lust potion in. This will clear his mind, not cloud it.”

“And you do not think this vill cause more distrust?”

“Honestly, Viktor, once the paranoia has been cleared, he’ll see why it had to be done this way. Then he can make a real decision about whether to try the counter-curse.”

It still bothered her, though, to think of him having sex with her under threat of death. It was not as though she had set the terms of this blasted curse, but Severus was right; it smacked of rape. At least if he were able to make a rational decision, she might be able to live with herself afterwards. If there had ever been a chance of something growing between them, however, it would surely be destroyed.

She straightened her spine and squared her shoulders.

If he gets to live, it’s worth it. Just please, let this potion work.

She Summoned a fresh sheet of parchment and copied out the directions for the potion.

“I vill haff to obtain several of these ingredients,” Viktor said. “I vill be back shortly.”

She nodded, not caring whether he saw her, and continued to write.

~*~

Krum’s house-elves were very observant, it seemed. This one, at any rate, had clearly determined that the lentil stew was his favourite dish and had brought it yet again.

It was strange the way he felt when not actually thinking about his situation. He could enjoy good food. He could even find a sort of wry humour in the elf’s attempts to communicate with him. It was still humiliating to require assistance getting into and out of his Portchair, going to the loo, and getting dressed and washed, but it didn’t infuriate him.

And then he would think about Miss Granger and her paramour, and his blood would boil.

He willed himself not to think about them just now. Food was one of the few things left for him to enjoy for his last few days, and he was going to savour every bite. There was nothing to be gained by spoiling it enraged over…

Well, now, that was strange. Why would he be enraged, exactly?

He set his spoon down carefully and thought.

Since when did I simply decide to give up and die, especially when my life is finally improving? I have finally found somewhere I belong, and now I am supposed to simply give up and disappear? And since when is Miss Granger even remotely capable of premeditated murder?

He looked at his stew, and a knowing smirk grew on his lips.

However, concealing potions in someone’s favourite food is something of which she has been capable since she was a second-year. I wonder if she realises I am aware of that?

She had been right, of course. The paranoia, the fatalism, it had all been part of the Dark Lord’s curse. It appeared she had found a way to counter at least that portion of it. In a book, naturally, but she would have had to draw on and assemble disparate bits of information, much as she must have done in discovering the primary counter-curse. It seemed she had come a long way from the student he remembered.

The smirk faded.

While he no longer thought she was planning to steal the remainder of his strength and kill him in the process, he still had no desire for a pity fuck from her. Looking at his skeletal hands, he knew that was certainly all it could be. He was in no condition to even attempt some of the things they had done only a few short days ago. For that matter, if her climax were required, it would most likely fall to her to ensure it.

Is your life worth that, Snivellus? To be shagged by a beautiful witch who feels sorry for you and, if she’s to enjoy it at all, has to take matters into her own hands?

He was a Slytherin. Survival was his first order of business.

As soon as he finished his meal, he rang for the elf to clear away the tray and to help him wash. Then, he managed to convey with gestures that he wished to speak with the woman. With Hermione.