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Viktor Krum's shoulders really were very broad, his clearly muscular back tapering down to slightly narrower hips, the muscles shifting with every casual movement Krum made. It was easy to see why so many girls adored him—though, maybe adored wasn't the right word, but Ron wasn't too keen on asking Hermione for an alternative. She'd ask questions about why he wanted to know, questions that Ron wasn't really sure how to answer. He had no normal explanation for his thoughts.
It wasn't as if he was ogling Krum or anything… surely not. No, he was merely deciding about—about what position it looked like Krum played! Yes, that was definitely it, definitely something people normally thought about. Because really, Krum did have a Beater's build, much less of a Seeker. Just look at those biceps, those were Beater's biceps!
He gave a frustrated sigh, though what he was frustrated about, he didn't know. It wasn't as if anyone was disagreeing with him, because it was all in his head.
"Ron, are you even listening?" Hermione asked sharply, drawing him out of his revere. He looked over at her, blinking slowly, ears turning red as soon as he registered what she'd said.
"Er, yes," he lied, scratching his nose as if his hand would protect him from the scolding he was about to receive.
Hermione surprised him, though, simply rolling her eyes and sighing heavily. He felt relieved too soon, however, because then she said:
"Well, if you're done undressing Viktor with your eyes, could we get back to the bit about how Harry is going to get past a dragon?"
Ron spluttered, feeling himself turn a concerning shade of red, but Hermione shoved a book into his face before he could object to undressing Viktor with his eyes, because there was no undressing happening, thank you very much—
"Wait, since when do you call him 'Viktor'?" he asked indignantly. Was he jealous? No. Was he lying to himself? Maybe a little bit. He didn't quite want to analyze whatever that meant, though, so he decidedly ignored that.
"I can be friends with other people," Hermione sniffed, stepping around his question as if it were a pile of dung, and brandished the book in front of him again. "Help find something!"
He grumbled, but turned his focus onto the book, trying his best to ignore Krum. It was difficult for the first half-hour or so, until he thought he might've found something that could help Harry.
"Hey, could this work?" he asked, turning the book around so Hermione could read it, pointing at a specific line. She eagerly leaned forward, taking the book from his hands and pouring over the text with a muttered 'thank you.'
Ron glanced over her head, about to reach for another book, but froze when he caught sight of a familiar pair of eyes watching him from a few tables down. His heart stuttered when he realized that he'd just caught Krum staring at him—except it couldn't possibly be Ron that Krum was looking at, could it?
But then Krum straightened up slightly, abandoning the book in his hands completely, the corner of his lip twitching up in an almost-smile. Ron had never seen Krum smile like that, so it felt private and sweet. And it was directed at Ron. His heart started working again with a jolt as soon as he registered that. He tore his eyes away with a blush, focusing again on helping Hermione, but couldn't resist occasionally looking back up to find that Krum was still glancing at him too.
It did strange things to his stomach every time his eyes caught Krum's, a mixture of something like excitement and the urge to sink into the ground settling in his stomach.
After likely the tenth time of meeting Krum's gaze, Hermione coughed softly, drawing his attention back to her. He swallowed nervously at the knowing look on her face. It never led to anything good. She fixed him with that hard stare of hers for a moment before taking pity on him and looking away.
"Maybe you should just talk to him," she murmured, picking at a piece of invisible lint on her robes, eyebrow raised delicately. His breath sped up as he thought of getting up, walking over to Krum, and just saying hello. It wasn't a terrible idea either—
"Let's not," he said, suddenly feeling very sick at the thought. Hermione hummed.
"Suit yourself. I'm not going to push you to do anything you don't want to," she said lightly—yet somehow, her tone of voice clearly meant she very much wanted to push him. He sighed heavily.
"Fine," he said, shaking his head and shutting the book he'd been trying, and failing, to read. "I guess if we don't find a solution for Harry, you're going to be the one to explain this to him."
Hermione scoffed.
"I'm not the one who can't focus on anything except Victor's bulging biceps," she said, almost snorting at the look on Ron's face.
"I am not focusing on his bulging biceps!" he exclaimed a little too loudly, flushing darkly from the quelling look Madam Pince shot him. He ducked his head, not wanting to face that stare or spot the amused look Krum must have on his face. He leaned in close to Hermione, needing to make something clear to her—or to himself. He didn't quite know at this point.
"Hermione, I'm not gay," he whispered furiously. Hermione shot him an annoyed look.
"What does that have to do with just talking to him?" she whispered back. He opened his mouth, about to explain every sensible reason why, but then slowly closed it when he realized there were none.
"That's what I thought," Hermione said smugly. She slid the book away from Ron and towards herself, opening it to the chapter about dragons, and buried her nose deep within the pages. It was a clear dismissal, but Ron nearly couldn't find the nerve to stand up and walk over to where Krum was sitting.
Somehow, though, he did, and moments later he found himself standing next to Krum's table. He shuffled from one foot to the other when Krum looked up from the book he was reading—also about dragons, Ron noted—and gave him a curious look.
"Er, hi," Ron said nervously, tugging at the hem of his sleeve. Viktor relaxed and gave him another one of those small, private smiles that seemed to be reserved for him alone. It made him want to do a cartwheel. Not that Ron could do a cartwheel, but now he wanted to.
"Hi. My name is Viktor," Krum said, reaching his hand out for Ron to shake, an amused gleam in his eye. Ron took his hand, unable to stop himself from wiping his sweaty palm on his robes before he did. If Viktor caught the movement, he thankfully didn't comment on it.
He nearly died right then and there when Viktor's fingers brushed against his wrist before he pulled his hand away. It made a slight shiver run up Ron's arm that he didn't know how to pinpoint. That was code for something, wasn't it? He could've sworn Charlie had said something or other about that—
"I'm Ron," he replied, voice cracking embarrassingly, making his ears heat up again. It seemed that he was doing a lot of that today. Viktor was nice, though, not mentioning the voice crack at all. Ron bet he never had embarrassing voice cracks when he was 14.
"It is nice to meet you. Hermy-own-ninny speaks of you a lot," Viktor said, gesturing for Ron to sit in the empty seat beside him. Ron sat immediately, not thinking about it, because if he did he might run away and start crying. Though probably not in that order.
"You talk to Hermione?" Ron asked, realizing who Hermy-own was after a moment of thinking about the name. He wasn't sure whether to be jealous that Viktor spoke to Hermione so much, or flattered that Hermione apparently talked about him.
"Yes. She is not interested in fame," Viktor said matter-of-factly. Ron nodded awkwardly and scratched his nose, feeling guilty suddenly for reasons he couldn't pinpoint.
"You play Quidditch?" Viktor asked curiously, obviously steering the conversation away from that, but Ron was grateful. He perked up, excited, because he knew things about Quidditch, and there weren't any confusing feelings for him there.
"A bit! Not—well—not good, but I do," he said, flustered. Viktor stared at him for a moment, quirking his head to the side. Ron swallowed thickly at the attention, heart fluttering.
"Ve should play together, I am sure you are better than you say," Viktor eventually said, seeming delighted when Ron's eyes widened almost comically.
Well, apparently there were confusing feelings to be found in conversations about Quidditch.
"Really?" he asked almost breathlessly. His heart pounded in his chest when Viktor nodded and gave another quiet smile.
"Of course," Viktor said easily. Ron couldn't seem to stop himself from taking deep, steadying breaths, trying to calm down the thundering of his heart.
"Thanks," Ron choked out after a moment of sitting there staring at the table, finally looking back up at Viktor.
"Are you okay?" Viktor asked, eyes darkening in concern as he leaned forward slightly. Ron's breath hitched as he caught the scent of him. It was like old books (they were in a library, after all) and beneath all that was something of gentle breezes and burnt sugar.
He immediately backed away—more like scrambled, actually—but he was unable to think properly while breathing in that scent.
He opened his mouth to give some half-hearted excuse about how he was fine, when he heard Harry's elated voice from behind him.
"I know what I'm going to do now!" he said, and Ron jerked around to see Harry shoving Hermione's papers into her bag as she tried to get him to slow down and tell her what happened when Professor Moody talked to him.
Ron's excitement at seeing Harry lessened when he remembered that they weren't talking at the moment. Even though it really was his fault and he didn't actually believe that Harry put his name in the Goblet, it seemed too late to apologize.
"Er, I should go now… It was nice to meet you, good luck with the dr—first task," Ron said, blushing furiously at his almost slip-up. Viktor had a look in his dark eyes that Ron couldn't pinpoint, but it made his stomach flutter nervously.
"Thank you," Viktor said softly, leaning back in his chair and gently pulling his book back into his lap. Ron stood and quickly walked into a row of bookshelves to hide from Harry and Hermione, head ducked slightly and hoping that neither of them noticed him.
He had a lot of things to think about and, while the task should probably be at the top of his list, he couldn't stop his wrist from tingling slightly every time he remembered Viktor's fingers brushing against his skin.
...he may not be as straight as he thought.
~xXx~
The first thing Ron was going to do after apologizing to Harry was find Charlie. He'd decided it as soon as he remembered that Charlie was going to be there for the task, and he couldn't back down now that he'd already promised himself he'd do it. Even though he really, really wanted to pretend nothing had ever happened.
He dreaded talking to Charlie, but he knew that his older brother was cool and wouldn't act like, say, Fred and George would in a conversation like the one Ron wanted to have. He just wanted someone to talk to, really.
After a god-awful apology to Harry, along with Hermione rolling her eyes and sighing as though it pained her to watch them, he hurried over to the champions' tent. He thought it unlikely that Charlie would be in there, because he was probably getting the dragons back into their cages, but was surprised to see a familiar head of long red hair. He wasn't sure if he was more relieved or nervous to have found Charlie so quickly.
He was talking to Madam Pomphrey, leaning against a pillar and holding out his right arm while she wrapped a bandage around it. He must've gotten burned or cut while handling the dragons, but he didn't seem to be in any pain as he chatted away to Madam Pomphrey about one thing or another.
Ron reluctantly approached them, debating between turning back and following through on his original idea, but Madame Pomphrey spotted him just as he started to turn back. Abort, abort—
"Ah, Mr. Weasley," she greeted, a slight smile on her usually stern face, freezing him in place. She turned back to Charlie, and Ron realized that the smile was because Charlie was there. "It seems your brother has come to steal your company from me."
Ron absently wondered how many times Charlie had landed in the hospital wing for Madam Pomphrey to be on such friendly terms with him.
"I know I'm wonderful company. Don't be selfish, Poppy, you'll have to share me eventually," Charlie said with a wink. Ron's eyebrows shot up past his hairline, he was sure. Madam Pomphrey huffed a laugh and smacked Charlie lightly on his arm.
"Don't keep your brother too long, and do not get that bandage wet," she said sternly. Charlie grinned at her.
"I'll try," he said lightly.
Ron was starting to wonder if he could just slink away without them noticing, but then Madam Pomphrey gathered her skirts in hand and walked out of the tent, leaving Ron alone with his brother. His anxiety spiked when Charlie turned to him with a soft smile.
"What's up?" Charlie asked. Ron tugged on his sleeve nervously, suddenly doubting that this was a good idea.
"Oh, just coming to say hi," he said weakly. Charlie's eyebrows rose slightly, but his smile didn't waver. He slung an arm over Ron's shoulders, tugging him along as he started walking towards the mouth of the tent.
"Let's take a walk around the lake," he suggested. Ron nodded, because there wasn't much else he could do. He had no idea what he was going to say when it came time to say something, and all the possibilities kept playing in his head again and again. He really didn't think this through, did he?
They fell behind a group of Ravenclaws walking back up to the castle long after the rest of the students had left, walking in silence, thoughts spinning around and around his head.
Far too soon, they were at the lake, Charlie's arm no longer over Ron's shoulders. They walked in silence for a few minutes, watching as the Giant Squid's tentacles broke the surface of the water every once in a while.
"What's on your mind?" Charlie eventually asked. Ron swallowed nervously and shifted a bit away from his older brother, not sure how to say what he wanted to say now that they were there.
"When did you figure out you were gay?" he asked, gripping his robes sleeve tightly and holding his breath. He didn't dare look at Charlie. He didn't want to see what emotions had flit across Charlie's face—understanding, disappointment, surprise—he didn't want to see any of it.
"Around your age, actually. Why, is that something you've been thinking about for yourself?" Charlie asked gently. Ron glanced over at Charlie, feeling his neck heat up, and nodded. He went back to staring at his feet as they walked.
"What made you think about it?" Charlie asked. Ron licked his lips.
"Viktor Krum," he muttered, kicking a pebble into the water as he tugged on his robes sleeve again. It felt like his face was on fire.
"He's the Seeker for the Bulgarian Quidditch Team, right? And the Durmstrang champion?" Charlie asked curiously. Ron nodded, kicking at another rock that just barely missed one of the Giant Squid's tentacles. It angrily splashed a bit of water at him in response.
"Well, I can see why he might make you start questioning," Charlie said dryly, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. Ron couldn't stop himself from smiling back, but his face was still on fire, and he was slightly surprised that it had yet to burst into literal flames.
"Do I have to tell anyone?" he asked, a slight tremor to his voice. He knew he'd have to tell Harry and Hermione, but he barely even understood it himself yet, and the thought of their shocked silences made him want to sink into the ground.
Charlie stopped walking suddenly, putting his hand on Ron's shoulder.
"No. Tell them when you feel ready to. Until then, just be Ron. Don't feel pressured into putting a label onto everything you're feeling, okay?" he said, eyes imploring and terribly sincere. Ron swallowed against the lump in his throat, turning his face away from Charlie so he wouldn't see the tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.
"Okay," he whispered, voice somehow still breaking over the word, rubbing the back of his neck in the hopes it would somehow make his eyes stop watering.
Charlie's arms wound around him in an unexpectedly secure hug that Ron couldn't help but break down in. He didn't know why he was crying—except that he actually did, because he was just so scared—and now that he'd started, he couldn't stop.
What was he going to do? No one, especially Draco Malfoy, could find out about this. He could imagine the looks of disgust and the slurs already. So he just wouldn't tell anyone, then—he'd wait. And maybe if he waited long enough, things would suddenly click into place and start making sense.
"It's okay," Charlie murmured, swaying a little bit in a comforting way that made Ron's tears stop much sooner than they would've without it. He pulled away once he'd calmed down a bit, wiping furiously at his eyes, not able to believe what he'd just let himself do—
"I'm always here for you. If you ever want to talk, or just want another hug, I'm here," Charlie said gently, interrupting his thoughts and almost drawing him to tears again. Instead, he nodded and took a deep breath, steadying himself.
"Thank you," he said, mustering a small smile. It was answered by Charlie's hand mussing up his hair before Ron could duck away with an indignant "Oi!"
Charlie only laughed and half-tackled him to mess Ron's hair up with his knuckles, Ron's protests echoing loudly across the grounds.
~xXx~
Ron couldn't help it; he was jealous. Extremely jealous. Hermione just kept on dancing, while Viktor kept on dancing with her and having fun. Mandatory dances weren't supposed to be fun, everybody knew that, but apparently Bulgaria didn't get the memo.
He mostly just hated that he was wearing these horrid robes and that Hermione got to dance with Viktor when he didn't. He sighed heavily, probably for the fifteenth time that night, and slumped even further into his chair.
"Maybe you should ask Hermione to have the next dance?" Harry suggested from beside him. Ron was about to open his mouth to ask why he'd want to ask Hermione to dance, when he was jealous of her, before he remembered that he was keeping that bit of information to himself.
"If she wants to dance with me, she can ask me herself," he said shortly, a small part of himself proud for how he side-stepped that problem. Harry snorted, and Ron was able to share an amused look with him as the song ended, before a figure appeared in the corner of his eye and pulled his attention away.
He turned his head, finding that Viktor stood in front of him, holding his hand out expectantly. Ron gaped, brain not quite catching onto what was happening.
"Dance vith me," Viktor said, eyes blazing, chest rising and falling with each breath.
His accent was a bit thicker than Ron had heard it before, making it a little more difficult to understand, and maybe that was why he dumbly blurted:
"Huh?"
He flushed when he heard Harry's laughter beside him, but he didn't spare him a look. Viktor's lips twitched into that small smile of his, which sent his heart plummeting straight into his stomach. He swallowed thickly, remembering Charlie's words to just be Ron.
"O-okay," he stuttered, taking Viktor's hand. Viktor pulled him up from his seat, grip strong and hand hot, making Ron's own hand start sweating instantly. But Viktor didn't seem to mind, pulling him right into the middle of the dancefloor.
The song that started playing wasn't something Ron could recognize, but what he did know was that it was very slow and romantic-sounding, and this certainly was not the kind of song that Viktor wanted to dance with him to.
But apparently it was, because Viktor pulled him close and settled his hands on Ron's waist, leaving Ron no choice but to put his own on Viktor's shoulders. It all felt very intimate, and very much the kind of thing Ron had only dreamt about, and oh my god this is happening. His skin tingled everywhere Viktor touched, his breath speeding up at the feeling of it, and he was sure that he'd left his stomach back at the table with Harry.
Surely, this was just a Bulgarian thing, wasn't it? It must be normal for Viktor to dance to a slow, romantic song with someone he didn't fancy. Because it was absurd to think that Viktor—famous, incredibly attractive, professional Quidditch player who was apparently also bookish—would ever fancy him. Because Ron was… well, the opposite of all those things.
He noticed everyone else coupling off to the song as well, some people giving them odd looks, but Ron ignored them and decided that he didn't want to read too much into what was happening. Just be Ron. He didn't have to suddenly start overthinking things now, because since when did he do that? That was Hermione's job.
He let himself lean in to Viktor a bit closer, hoping the older boy wouldn't notice, and took a deep breath. That burnt sugar scent, made softer by something like gentle breezes, filled his senses. It made him feel as though he was suspended in air, and the only thing that would've made the moment better was if—
Viktor pulled him in even closer so that Ron could feel his warm breath against his own neck, sending very unwelcome shivers through his body. His heart raced, and he knew he'd stiffened slightly, but how could he possibly relax when Viktor was doing these things? It was almost as if Ron's crush on Viktor wasn't unrequited.
"I like you," Viktor said into his hair, apparently reading his thoughts somehow. Ron's feet stop working, their slow shuffling halting as soon as Ron completely understood what that meant.
"Oh, that's funny," he said, laughing nervously, and Viktor pulled back from him slightly to meet his eyes seriously. His laughter died in his throat at the intensity of it.
"I am serious. I vant to get to know you as vell as Hermy-own-ninny does," he murmured, eyes taking in every emotion that must be flickering over Ron's face. He looked nervous, Ron realized, as he waited for a reaction.
Bloody hell. Ron was not equipped to handle this. How was he supposed to say, "Oh, of course I like you back, but I'm very confused right now and I feel like I'm about to faint, so let's maybe just step back a bit, preferably for a few years, until my brain stops feeling like mush around you"?
"I… I... " Ron stammered, heart doing all sorts of weird things in his chest as he tried to come up with a response. It was as if it didn't know whether or not it wanted to burst, start racing, or just give up completely.
And then Viktor seemed to deflate, hands slipping a bit, and he looked so crestfallen and hurt that Ron immediately felt guilty for his lack of a reassuring response.
"I understand," Viktor said, voice flat in disappointment, and Ron hated it so much that he couldn't have stopped himself from talking if he wanted to.
"I'm sorry!" he blurted, and then the rest of the words were tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them.
"It's not that I don't like you, because I do! But I just—this is all new, and I barely understand it. Not to mention that I don't want to like you, because you're in the tournament against Harry, but how can I not like you? You're smart, successful, funny—literally the most attractive person I've ever seen. You're everything I'm not, and—bloody hell." He slapped his hands over his mouth to stop himself from talking, eyes wide.
He was absolutely mortified, because everything he'd said was true. He'd watched as Viktor's face had changed while he'd blurted it all out—it went from disappointed, to hopeful, to stunned, and then settling on some soft, gentle look that Ron didn't understand.
It made his stomach lurch, though, and suddenly his eyes were burning. He didn't know what had just happened, or why he was a fraction of a second from crying, but he really did not want to cry in front of literally everyone—most especially Viktor, after what he'd just said.
So Ron did the only thing he could think to do: he turned away from Viktor and ran, ignoring Hermione's calls asking what happened.
~xXx~
The Black Lake was bloody freezing, and Ron was still recovering from the shock of seeing a shark pull him above the water that he hardly registered that the shark was actually Viktor.
It took him a second to completely come to, but when he did, he suddenly remembered that he'd been avoiding Viktor for that last two months. And that Viktor now had his arm around Ron's waist. And that he was Viktor's captive—the object that Viktor would "sorely miss." It made his heart clench with something that felt like yearning, which was an entire box that he was not ready to unpack at the moment.
"Hi," Viktor gasped, drawing Ron's thoughts back to the current problem of how he was supposed to avoid Viktor, while also having his arm around him and enjoying it.
"Hi," Ron said, ears reddening at the gentle smile Viktor gave him. How many girls would kill to be in this exact position, on the receiving end of that look? Ron hoped that Viktor couldn't feel how fast his heart was beating, but his chest was basically pressed against Viktor's side, so he would've been surprised if Viktor hadn't felt it.
"I am letting go now," Viktor said, shivering, and Ron nodded. He was probably much warmer than he should be under the circumstances, but as soon as he moved away from Viktor, he shivered as the cold temperature hit him.
They swam to the pier, Ron much slower than Viktor because of the weight of his robes that he for some reason didn't take off before agreeing to this. He flushed when he noticed that Viktor was swimming slower to match his pace, but gave him a grateful smile that he hoped didn't betray how embarrassed he was. Viktor's answering smile was so captivating that it almost made Ron smash his face into the ladder of the pier.
As Ron climbed the ladder—his robes getting in the way again—he frowned when he noticed that Harry and Hermione weren't on the pier already. How much time was left for them to return? He anxiously stared at the water while Madam Pomphrey fussed about him, shoving a Pepper-Up Potion in his hands and a towel over his shoulders.
He noticed Viktor receiving the same treatment out of the corner of his eye and smiled, but didn't look over at him. He was supposed to be avoiding Viktor, not sneaking glances at him every other second.
Finally, Harry and Hermione appeared, coughing and gasping for air. Ron let out a sigh of relief. He wouldn't have known what to do if they hadn't resurfaced—though he knew they wouldn't have drowned. Dumbledore wouldn't have let that happen.
He stood to the side as Hermione and Harry climbed up the ladder and were wrapped in towels. He rushed over to them as soon as Madam Pomphrey had taken the vials of Pepper-Up Potion from them with a grumble about how idiotic the whole tournament was.
"You alright, mate?" Ron asked worriedly, hoping he didn't sound too worried, but Harry just nodded and wrapped the towel around him tighter. Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron not asking if she was okay, but she seemed more amused than anything.
Her reaction confused him for a second until he felt someone step up behind him. He knew immediately who it was, without having to see or smell that burnt sugar scent.
"Can ve talk?" Viktor asked, voice low, lips terribly close to Ron's ear, and Ron suppressed a shiver. He was cold, that was all.
He nodded, forcing his legs to move and follow Viktor to a section of the pier where no one was standing. It wasn't very private, and Ron was relieved for that, because there wasn't much Viktor could say to him while it was so public. Could he?
"You are avoiding me," Viktor said plainly. Ron flushed. He supposed he couldn't really hide the fact that he'd been avoiding Viktor, but he felt as though he'd just gotten caught somehow.
"Well—yes," he admitted, tugging on his robe sleeves again. Viktor quirked his head to the side.
"Why?" he asked simply. Ron rubbed the back of his neck and stared at his feet. Merlin, this was embarrassing. "Is it because of vut I said?"
"Yes," Ron said. Viktor hummed thoughtfully.
"Vould you haff wished I did not say it?" he asked, and Ron thought he recognized the tone of voice as edging towards disappointment.
"No, it's not that!" he denied, shaking his head firmly. "But I know I can't date you, no matter how much I want to."
Viktor gave him a puzzled stare.
"Why?" he asked. It was such a simple question, but once Ron actually thought about it, he found that he didn't have an answer. He opened his mouth, faltering when he drew a blank.
"Would you… I mean, would you want to date me?" he asked, incredulous. He was waiting for someone to jump out and laugh at him, say that this was just a joke the entire time, but the only thing that happened was Viktor giving him a slow smile.
"Of course," he said. Ron's heart hammered in his chest. He didn't know how exactly to put his thoughts into words.
"I'm sorry. I'm confused," Ron finally whispered. The heavy weight of guilt settled in his chest, along with the feeling that he was going to regret saying that, but mostly, he felt scared.
"That is okay. I vill vait for you, Ronald," Viktor said. His hands felt sweaty again, and his face was on fire, and his heart was exploding. The thought that someone like Viktor would do something like that, for someone like himself?
"You sure you want to wait for someone like me?" Ron said, attempting a joke, but it came off more insecure instead.
And then Viktor's arms were around him, completely engulfing him in the scent of burnt sugar that Ron felt as though he could drown in. He didn't stop his arms from wrapping themselves around Viktor's back, burying his face in Viktor's chest to hide how widely he was smiling.
"Yes, I am," Viktor murmured, squeezing him tighter.
Ron felt as though, if he dropped dead right then and there, he'd die happy.
~xXx~
Ron was starting to like the library very much. He liked how it smelled and the fact that it was always quiet. There were less people talking about him and his apparent attraction to blokes when he was in the library, too. They could look all they wanted, but no one could yell slurs at him where Madam Pince could hear them—not if they wanted to live to see the next day, that was.
He wondered if Harry had ever thought to hide in the library when too many people were gossiping about him, because it was pretty effective at stopping them talking.
And, of course, Viktor spent a lot of time in the library too. But he told himself that it was just a nice bonus.
It did unfortunately mean that he had to spend a lot more time with Hermione—not that he didn't love her, because he did. It was just that she was always trying to get him to be productive, saying he should do his homework or read a book.
"I don't like reading," Ron said. He was not complaining, thank you very much. Hermione stared at him incredulously, but at least she stopped trying to put a quill in his hand so he could start his essay.
"You're in the library all the time," she pointed out, an eyebrow raised at him. He shrugged, not really thinking about where the conversation was going.
"Well, not for the books," he said—and fell right into Hermione's trap. She smirked (smirked!) at him and leaned forward as though sharing a secret.
"You may as well start studying with him," she said. "If it'll get you to work, then please do."
Ron stared at her for a moment, not sure whether or not he should be offended, before he thought, You know what, why not? He stood, grabbed the textbooks he wasn't reading, bid Hermione goodbye (ignoring the relieved look on her face), and made his way to Viktor's usual table.
And no, he didn't usually sit at Hermione's table just so he could watch Viktor read. What a ridiculous notion.
When he approached Viktor, his mind blanked on what he was going to say, but he was determined to not let that get in the way of this. He liked Viktor, and Viktor liked him, and there wasn't anything wrong with him just wanting to talk to the bloke he liked. If everyone else got to do it, why couldn't he?
Viktor looked up from his book with a scowl, but it turned to that small smile when he saw it was just Ron who'd approached him. Sometimes, that smile made Ron's heart melt into a little puddle.
"Hi," Viktor said softly. Ron smiled.
"Hi. What're you reading?" he asked curiously, setting his bag on the floor next to the table and sliding into the chair beside Viktor. He caught a glimpse of the cover as Viktor closed it, but it unfortunately wasn't written in English.
"Ah, it is nothing," Viktor dismissed with a wave of his hand. "Vut did you vant to talk about?"
Ron blushed and scratched his neck absent-mindedly. He hadn't quite thought this far, so he could only really say the truth.
"I mostly wanted to get away from Hermione," he admitted. "You're loads more interesting than she is."
Viktor breathed a laugh, which made Ron want to laugh too, but he didn't.
"Hermy-own-ninny can be… dry," Viktor said slowly, nodding a bit in agreement. Ron bit his lip, both from nervousness and from trying to stop himself from chuckling about how Viktor said Hermione's name. It wasn't his fault, really, so he shouldn't laugh.
"Do you know much about transfiguration?" he asked, deciding it was better to focus on more academic things that he wouldn't start laughing about.
Viktor eagerly leaned forward, an excited gleam in his eye that had Ron warily eyeing the door. He could suddenly understand why Viktor and Hermione got on so well.
"It is one of my best subjects," Viktor said. "Do you haff to study?"
Ron hesitated before he nodded, briefly wondering if he was going to regret saying yes. But Viktor's enthusiasm was pretty endearing, so he supposed he could bear actually doing work if it meant he got to see Viktor's eyes light up and gesture wildly as he spoke.
His marks in transfiguration got better and better the more he met with Viktor to study in the library. The rumors certainly increased, but he found that the whispers of him being a ponce couldn't be heard this deep into the shelves of the library. It was a win-win situation.
Especially considering that he'd gotten to spend hours and hours getting to know things about Viktor that he didn't think even avid fans of his would know.
His favorite color was yellow—the kind of yellow that you could only see in autumn as the colors of leaves shifted. His favorite food was something Russian that Ron had never tried before. He didn't entirely enjoy being so famous, though he admitted it did have its perks. He had a horrid sweet tooth. His favorite Quidditch team wasn't his own. In fact, he didn't have one.
Not until Ron embarrassedly admitted that his favorite team was the Chudley Cannons, that is.
Some part of Ron did finally manage to do a cartwheel when Viktor started talking about them a few days later, as though he'd loved them all along.
~xXx~
Ron had managed to nick a bit of firewhiskey off of Fred without Molly noticing that either of them had it. They were the legal age to drink, of course, but that didn't mean Molly wasn't going to have their ears for it. Fred had handed the flask off without much more than a wink and a threat of what would happen if Molly learned where he'd gotten it from.
Harry, still Polyjuiced as a distant Weasley cousin, had given him an amused look, but hadn't accepted any when Ron offered it to him.
Ron shrugged. Oh well, more for him.
But it did mean that he was going to get just a tad more than buzzed if he drank the entire flask on his own. So instead of downing it all, he decided he'd stand off to the side a bit, sipping idly and watching Bill and Fleur dance to song after song. Ginny passed by once or twice to rip the flask out of his hand and down a bit of the firewhiskey with a scowl, clearly still displeased that Bill was now married to Phlegm.
The wedding really was beautiful, and Ron was very happy for Bill, but it wasn't until he spotted a familiar dark-haired man across the tent that he felt as though he might actually enjoy himself. It had been years since he'd seen Viktor, and though they still sent letters to one another, it had been ages since they'd kept up a consistent correspondence—let alone actually seen one another.
He wondered for a moment if it was Fleur or Bill who had invited him. Fleur had competed with him, but Bill had known about Ron's long-term crush on him and it seemed like something he would do, as "a little push." Either way, Ron was going to get at least one dance with Viktor Krum before the night was over.
He downed the rest of the firewhiskey in one go, wincing at the burn in his throat, and murmured a short goodbye to Harry before making his way around the tent. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the other man, taking in how uncomfortable he looked standing alone in a secluded corner.
He hadn't changed much since fourth year, except that his shoulders were a bit broader, and his hair a little longer, but he had that same brooding look about him that Ron saw right through. While it probably looked like he was pissed off at anyone and everyone, it seemed more to Ron that he didn't know why he was there.
When Ron got closer, Viktor spotted him. His face lit up immediately, and Ron's breath caught in his throat at the thought that his presence could make Viktor so happy.
Ron stopped just in front of him, holding his hand out expectantly.
"Dance with me," he demanded, recalling their first dance at the Yule Ball with startling clarity. It felt like just yesterday, yet somehow an eternity ago, that Viktor had said those words to him. Viktor smiled that small smile of his, playful and light in ways that still made Ron's stomach flutter.
"Huh?" Viktor asked, contorting his face into an obvious impression of how dumbstruck Ron must've looked that night. Merlin, that had been so embarrassing. He laughed, only blushing slightly at the memory, and Viktor's echoing laughter startled him into silence. The deep, genuine sound of it made his breath catch in his chest.
Viktor always managed to get to him in ways no one else could.
"You are taller," Viktor commented, looking him up and down before his eyes settled on Ron's face, which was a few inches above his now. Ron grinned.
"Let's hope I lead better than I follow, then," he joked. Viktor laughed again, leaning in and taking Ron by the elbow, pulling him out to dance. Ron couldn't stop himself from breathing in that scent. After so long, Ron was surprised at how it still made him feel as if he was suspended in midair.
The song that was playing reminded Ron of the song they'd "danced" to in fourth year, and it made him blush when he remembered how he'd run away crying. He put his hands on Viktor's hips, mirroring Viktor's own actions from years ago simply because he could.
From the small smile on the shorter man's face, he was enjoying the roles being reversed.
"Do you still like me?" Ron asked as they swayed—again, not really dancing at all, and he was sort of relieved. He'd felt as though he needed to know if Viktor had feelings for him still or not, because if Viktor didn't, then he wasn't quite sure if he'd be able to keep swaying along.
"I never stopped," Viktor admitted. Ron's heart thudded painfully in his chest.
"I never stopped with you, either," he murmured, pulling back slightly from Viktor so he could see the expression on Viktor's face. The smile and the look in his eyes made Ron's breath catch in his throat.
"Vut are you vaiting for? Kiss me," Viktor demanded, and who was Ron to deny that? Ron practically ached with the desire to.
So he leaned down, slowly and hesitantly, eyelids falling shut as he fully took in that scent. He could feel Viktor's breath on his face, light and warm, and their lips brushed against one another's briefly.
His hands were sweaty, his breaths coming quick in excitement. He had to stop for a moment, take a deep breath, because he couldn't believe the universe had let this happen.
But then—
"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming." His eyes snapped open, fear like ice sliding into his stomach. That voice cut right through the music, through Ron's daze, and right between his body and Viktor's when he was torn away from the shorter man by a familiar hand.
Hermione's voice was in his ear, but he didn't hear a single word she was saying. His eyes were locked on Viktor's—those dark, usually guarded eyes were filled with fear and unspoken words of wait I'm not ready to lose you, I've missed you, I can't even hope that you'll be okay.
Ron's heart ached to go back to Viktor's arms, to soothe and protect, to get him away from the Death Eaters that materialized all around them.
The familiar tug of apparation pulled him away before he could, world going dark around him.
~xXx~
Dear Ron,
I could not be more relieved to know that the war has ended and to hear from you again. Not only were we feeling the effects of it here in Bulgaria, but it means you are all right as well. Maybe not completely intact, because I know you have losses, but there will be time to pick all the pieces up.
It is okay to not be okay right now.
I very much liked Fred. I am very sorry to hear of what happened to him. I do not think I told you, but the twins once came to me during the tournament and threatened me over you. They had said: "Don't flaunt him about, Krum. You may be famous and well-adjusted, but he's young and confused. If you lay one sexualized finger on him, we won't hold back from forcing you to be our next experiment."
I rewatched the memory many times to get the wording right. I am feeling as though, for your family, it is good to have it forever in ink. I admired Fred for his protectiveness of you and for his creation of the joke shop. It was very impressive for their age, back then.
Do you remember the book I was reading, in the Hogwarts library, some time after I pulled you out of the lake in the second task? I am thinking you may like having it, for the memory. I kept it until now because it reminds me of you. It is a Polish version. It is called, "A Separate Peace." You cannot read it, but it reminds me of you.
With love,
Viktor
~xXx~
Dear Ron,
I am sorry I have not responded sooner. Quidditch has been very busy, I am sure you know. I did not catch the snitch in last night's game. But, we must play a game together some time.
I am very proud of you. We do not have Aurors here, but we have something similar, and it is very vigorous training. You will fit well with the position, I am thinking. You are fiery and determined.
I saw your name in passing the other day (you received an award for your role in the war?) and was reminded to reply to your letter. I am not surprised you were vital to the ending of the war and could not be more proud.
I am happy that Hermione has found a copy of the book for you to read. I am agreeing with her this time, that you should read it. Please let me know what you think of it.
With love,
Viktor
~xXx~
Dear Ron,
Thank you for reading the book. It makes me very glad to know you felt it related to you. I was thinking so as well, and it meant something very deep to me when I read it.
Quidditch has not been well, though I am sure you have seen. I cannot grasp why my team and myself have been going so far downward. We are struggling more than we used to. Thank you for asking.
Viktor
~xXx~
Ron,
I am thinking that because of our busy schedules, we will not be able to meet in person.
Maybe Harry or Hermione will get married soon, and we will be forced to see each other at the wedding. It seems as though it is the only way. We have unfinished business from Fleur's wedding as well, if you can recall.
Viktor
~xXx~
Ron,
I wanted to tell you: the Chudley Cannons are moving up and I will play them soon. Would you want to come watch?
Let me know as soon as possible, I would love to have you there.
Viktor
~xXx~
George's New Year's party was as chaotic but as well-planned as ever. Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes had been completely redecorated entirely in gold and black for the occasion. It was probably Harry's doing, since it hadn't been decorated that way until Harry joined George at WWW.
The second floor had a space cleared for dancing and, from what Ron could see, there was some sort of game taking place on the third floor. There was always something for everyone at George's parties, because he knew the first floor had been set aside for those who wanted a more tame evening with less drunkenness and questionable beverages.
Ron, however, was not one of those people, and he usually stayed on the second floor where he could watch George and Harry run about making sure no one started trying to magic their clothes off while drunk. It happened more often than Ron would've thought and was a very amusing spectacle, until George decided that anyone who walked up to the second floor wasn't allowed to keep their wand with them.
Too many risks involved with alcohol, he'd said.
Ron hung around the floating trays of food, usually, until the fireworks display at midnight when he'd make his way to the roof. He was allowed into Harry and George's flat on the fourth floor so he could get the best view of the fireworks—though he suspected that was mostly Harry's doing, because George wasn't usually inclined to pull extra privileges for Ron.
Ron busied himself with refilling his glass of rum, watching as Angelina hung over the balcony and attempted to strip off her shirt before George could stop her. It was a nice distraction from his thoughts.
He sipped idly at his drink, amused, but he felt strangely detached from it all. He thought briefly about finding someone to hook up with, but couldn't quite put his heart into it. He wanted a real relationship, finally, after so many years of just hookups and short-lived flings because of how busy the Aurors kept him—
Ron turned his head sharply at the sound of footsteps behind him.
Viktor Krum had come up behind him, leaning in close and plucking the bottle of rum off the tray floating by Ron's shoulder, that familiar small smile on his face. All Ron could do was gape as the other man poured himself a drink, somehow maintaining eye contact with Ron while his movements remained smooth.
His heart skipped a beat when Viktor took a sip of the rum and hummed, tongue darting out to lick the rim of his glass so a drop wouldn't slide down the side. He'd done that all the time at Hogwarts, too, and Ron had thought it strange at the time, but now his mind was going other places.
He took in the rest of Viktor's appearance, pulling his attention away from the man's mouth lest he start drooling. The sides of his head were shaved and the top swept over so it hung just above his left eye, which did things to Ron that he wasn't going to admit, but he looked mostly the same as when he was twenty. His shoulders were slightly broader, but that wasn't a bad thing in Ron's book… not at all.
"You're looking better than when I last saw you," Ron said, recalling Bill and Fleur's wedding when Viktor had stood around, looking extremely out of place. "I like the hair," he added, keeping his voice as even as he possibly could.
"I like the body. You filled out vell," Viktor replied immediately, his dark eyes taking in Ron's figure with an approving look, and Ron focused on something else instead so he wouldn't turn beet-red. He noticed that Viktor's Bulgarian accent hadn't faded a bit since Bill's wedding—there, that was something else.
Ron snorted then and turned his gaze back to his now-empty glass. He wasn't sure what to say now, because there was absolutely an opportunity to flirt with Viktor, but the words died in his throat. He had no trouble flirting with other men, and this situation should've been no different, but… Viktor had never been like those other men.
It hit him suddenly right then. Ron had never stopped thinking about Viktor, had he? All those articles about him in Quidditch magazines, all the letters from Viktor that he couldn't help but reread, committing that handwriting to his memory, reliving the few instances they'd seen each other over the years…
"Pass the rum, won't you?" he asked, after he coughed to draw himself out of his thoughts. Viktor gestured upwards with the bottle instead of handing it to him, though, a conspiratorial smile on his face.
"Ve should go to the roof," he suggested. Ron hummed in agreement—some fresh air would probably be good for his head. He really was starting to head down a path in his mind that he was not prepared for.
They walked upstairs together, Ron behind Viktor. He tried not to stare at Viktor's arse as they walked, even though it was very hard and he was failing miserably, but he'd at least made an effort. Harry waggled his eyebrows at him when they passed, which made Ron flush and splutter, which thankfully Viktor hadn't seemed to notice.
"Thank you for inviting me," Viktor said, stopping once he'd seen Harry standing there. Harry grinned at the look that Ron shot him from where he stood behind Viktor, shrugging as if it was no trouble to him.
"Thanks for coming," he said warmly. Viktor was about to say something in reply, but a loud explosion went off somewhere on the second floor and he apologized before running down the steps. That left Ron and Viktor to continue up to the roof, Ron unable to stop himself from tugging on his robes sleeve nervously. He knew Viktor could see it, but he just couldn't help it.
They were silent as Ron stepped around Viktor and pushed open the door to George and Harry's flat, located at the top of the last set of stairs. It was keyed into his magical signature so, even if he didn't have his wand, he'd be able to enter.
His nerves escalated when Viktor stepped in behind him and shut the door, completely blocking out the sound of the party. It felt incredibly intimate and private—much more so than anywhere else they'd ever been together. He had to remind himself that he was twenty-two years old and was certainly capable of being alone with a man he was interested in. Even if that man was the one person he'd apparently never stopped thinking about for eight years.
He led the way out onto the patio, eyes widening only slightly at the way Viktor rested his hand on the small of Ron's back as he leaned out over the balcony, taking in the view. On the inside, though, Ron was sure that he'd once again left his stomach somewhere back on the stairs, because he felt strangely absent of his usual butterflies.
"You don't want to go all the way up?" Ron asked curiously, definitely not just trying to stall the conversation to calm himself.
"No," Viktor said simply. Ron wiped his palm on his robes and held out his glass so Viktor could pour a small amount into it. He immediately downed it, conscious of the way Viktor's eyes lingered on his throat when he tipped his head back. The look in those dark eyes made Ron heat up, inside and out, so he quickly turned his gaze away.
"We never did play Quidditch together, did we?" Ron asked suddenly, chasing away his previous thoughts with the nostalgia and regret of an invitation he wished he'd accepted. He could still remember the way the library had smelled, and the way Viktor's fingers had curled against his wrist when they shook hands.
"No, ve didn't… but I retired," Viktor said, lips twitching, looking almost embarrassed about the fact. He leaned over the balcony, forearms resting on the railing, and stared out over Diagon Alley at everyone moving below them. Ron quirked an eyebrow and took another sip of his rum, unable to tear his eyes away from the other man to see what he was seeing.
"I heard," he said softly. Viktor turned his head slightly, glancing at him, and Ron could barely believe the blush that creeped up Viktor's neck.
"Vut are you looking at?" Viktor asked—and Ron really couldn't believe it then. Viktor felt self-conscious. He had thousands of people looking at him all the time, but it was Ron staring at him that made him flustered.
"You," Ron said simply. But then his courage left him when he continued: "You… um, you have a nice face."
"A nice face?" Viktor asked, laughing when Ron pinched the bridge of his nose to cover up the flush on his cheeks. "You mean, you think I am handsome?"
"Yes," Ron said. He almost backed away when Viktor leaned in a little closer to him, an amused gleam in those dark eyes, but something kept him rooted to the spot.
"And hot?" he asked. The man was smirking now—damn him—and Ron's hands were getting all clammy, and this was not okay.
"Well, yes, I mean no. I mean—I guess," Ron spluttered. Viktor laughed again, under his breath, and Ron swallowed thickly. Somehow, he found himself leaning down a bit, unable to resist the pull of Viktor's laughter.
"You think I am attractive?" Viktor continued. Ron didn't miss the way Viktor's eyes flicked down to his lips, tilting his head to the side ever-so-slightly. It made his breath catch in his chest.
"Yes," Ron breathed. His breathing was coming heavier now, and Viktor kept getting closer, closer, closer… their lips were centimeters apart now. Ron's eyes fell shut when he felt Viktor's lips brush against his own.
"Vell, I also think you haff a nice face," Viktor whispered, lips catching against Ron's as he spoke.
And then Ron couldn't stop himself—he pressed against Viktor, threading his fingers into that dark hair, and kissed him properly. He tasted like rum and burnt sugar, and something inside Ron soared with the knowledge, even as he pushed aside thinking. Their kiss was hot and greedy, probably far too much, and Ron's hands were sweaty, but finallyfinallyfinally.
In the street below them, Ron vaguely registered that everyone was counting down from ten as it approached midnight, but he didn't pay them any attention. He had other things to focus on.
Ten, nine, eight, seven, six—
Viktor's tongue slipped into his mouth, making him gasp as he pulled the other man closer, trying to touch as much of him as he could. He was not going to let Viktor go, not now that he finally had him.
Five, four, three—
He shuddered as Viktor's hands wandered across his chest, pushing aside his robes and pressing his palm flat against Ron's abdomen. He pushed his hand beneath Ron's shirt a moment later, fingers trailing lower and lower.
Two, one—
"Ron," Viktor gasped when he pressed a hot, open kiss just beneath Viktor's ear.
Zero—
The fireworks burst all around them, snapping Ron out of his haze and making him jump.
"Happy New Year's," Ron murmured against Viktor's neck, feeling the other man breathe a laugh at that. He pulled away slightly, so he could look into Viktor's eyes, because he realized that this was exactly where he wanted to be.
Ron almost wasn't able to continue holding the gaze, completely captivated by the sheer amount of warmth he found in it, but he made himself focus on the words he wanted to say. This, he felt, was important.
"Play Quidditch with me this year, just for the fun of it. Not to win, or to impress anyone. Just to do it," he said softly, licking his lips nervously and feeling his heart swell at the taste of Viktor still on his lips.
Viktor's smile was more radiant than anything Ron had ever seen. He couldn't stop his own from spreading across his face, almost painfully wide
"Ve vill play together, just the two of us," Viktor agreed, nodding and seemingly understanding all the things Ron hadn't known how to say.
The fireworks illuminated Viktor's eyes and cast beautiful shadows across his face, making Ron ache with want, so he had to lean in and kiss him again—and again, and again.
There was nothing else quite like the taste of Viktor, the fireworks bursting all around them, the way Viktor's hair felt between his fingers and the sound of his small gasps. It had been too long since Ron remembered how to just be, and Viktor brought it out of him, made him feel as if he was suspended in air and time.
But all Ron could really think was that he would finally learn the proper way to fly, with the one person he'd always wanted it with.