Understanding

It was the kind of afternoon that made one thankful to be indoors and even more thankful to have a blazing fire in the hearth. The rain beat mercilessly against roofs and windowpanes, the fierce wind outside permeated and chilled the very bones of unfortunate travelers, turning their umbrellas wrong side out Sitting curled up on the couch, a knitted throw covering her legs, Hermione Granger was very grateful to be inside, warm and cozy although a bit lonely. She’d stared at the same passage in the heavy Arithmancy book for the past ten minutes and finally she shut it, knowing it would do no good to try to read anymore. Her homework assigned for the Christmas break was already done anyway.

Crookshanks took advantage of the place vacated by the book, kneading the throw as he purred loudly. She smiled and rubbed his ears, thankful for his presence in the empty house.

Her parents were away on their holiday skiing trip and wouldn’t be back till the New Year. They’d assumed she would be away. Feeling a wee bit sorry for herself, Hermione sighed and flicked her wand at the radio, turning off the Christmas carols.

When Crookshanks leapt from her lap, hissing softly, she gripped her wand and cautiously approached the door. It was probably just a Muggle neighbor, but with Voldemort back there was a need for caution. Peering out of the peephole, her eyes widened when she saw Viktor Krum outside the door. She opened it, still in a bit of a shock. It had been almost two years since she’d seen him.

A smile softened Viktor’s face, easing away the normal scowl he always wore. “Herm-own-ninny.”

“Viktor? What are you doing here?”

“I am in the country vith the Ministry,” he said proudly. “May I come in?”

“Oh, yes,” she said, stepping aside. Hermione took his long, fur-lined coat and hung it on a hook near the door. “Please, come in and have a seat.” She led him into the lounge. Crookshanks eyed Viktor warily from his spot under the coffee table. The kneazle made a dash for the other room when Viktor took a seat on the couch.

“He does not remember me,” he chuckled.

Sitting down beside him, Hermione tucked one leg under her and smiled warmly, truly glad to see him, thankful for the interruption to the long evening.

“How have you been? Are you still junior assistant with the International Magic Cooperation?” They both knew why he’d been chosen for such an important position right out of school – his fame as a seeker. The government hoped to win favor by using their own 'boy star’.

“Yes, I am. That is vhy I am here. They are talking of the vor and how ve can help. I haff been very busy since the summer.”

As we all have, she thought wryly, imagining how busy the Order must be.

“But it’s Christmas. Surely even the Ministry would take the holidays off.” She bit on her lower lip realizing how foolish that was. War didn’t recognize holidays.

“Ve do vat ve must, Herm-own-ninny.” He looked around the room. “Your parents vill not mind a visitor?”

“My parents are gone on holiday,” she explained. “They weren’t expecting me and I didn’t want them to change their plans.”

Viktor frowned. “You vere suppose to be avay?”

Hermione smiled wanly. "I had planned to stay at Hogwarts over the break but decided at the last minute I'd rather not." She had actually been planning to go to the Burrow with Harry and Ron, but because the git was seeing Lavender she'd decided against it.

Considering her carefully, Viktor nodded. “Still, you are alone here. That is not good.”

She laughed. “And you are working on the holiday. That isn’t good either. I’m fine and frankly I’m enjoying myself.” She gestured to the stacks of books. “I am getting a lot of studying done.”

He smiled indulgently at her. “That is vat attracted me to you, Herm-own-ninny. I never knew a vitch voo was so enchanted by knowledge.”

“I thought it was my incredible good looks,” she teased, enjoying his company. Pulling her other leg up on the couch, she got more comfortable. “Tell me everything you’ve been doing since we last owled.”

They chatted until the clock on the mantel struck out the midnight hour. Viktor looked up sharply.

“I must go. Ve haff another meeting in the morning.”

Hermione nodded and walked him to the door. “Thanks for stopping by, Viktor. It took the mickey out of a rather dull night,” she admitted.

“Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. You should not haff to spend it alone.” He reached out and cupped her cheek. “I will spend it with you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she said in a rush, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable with his nearness, the simple touch on her cheek evoking a barrage of memories.

“I vant to,” he said with conviction. “I vill be here at seven.” With that he leaned forward and brushed his lips over hers.

~*~

Critically checking the table once more, Hermione straightened the centerpiece, stepping back to admire her handiwork. A shepherd’s pie was keeping warm in the oven along with a variety of side dishes. She wasn’t an expert cook, but she knew it was passable. Her stomach fluttered with nervousness when the knock on the door came promptly at seven.

Viktor entered the house, bringing a flurry of snow and cold air in with him. “It is Bulgarian veather tonight,” he announced in amusement, shaking the snow out of his hair as she helped him with his coat. He pulled out a bottle and handed it to her. “Vizarding Rakiya. This should help us keep varm.”

Crookshanks ventured out, the smell of food enticing him more than his suspicion of Viktor and soon he was sitting in the spare chair, looking adoringly at the wizard who was sneaking him tidbits of food.

“This is very good, Herm-own-ninny,” he remarked, helping himself to a third portion. She blushed in pleasure, knowing that it was only adequate, but glad he enjoyed it. The heady Rakiya warmed her intensely and she found herself watching him instead of eating.
She was fascinated with his hands and she licked her lips as she remembered those lithe fingers, how they danced over her skin…

“Coffee,” she said firmly, getting a little unsteadily to her feet. “We’ll have coffee in the lounge.”

Viktor chuckled, a deep sound vibrating in his throat. “I vill help you vith that,” he announced, wiping his mouth and going into the kitchen with her.

His close proximity in the tiny kitchen did little to cool the flame in her cheeks as his strong arms brushed her sides when he reached up to take down two beakers, nor did it help when she turned quickly and found herself pressed up against that hard, lean chest. Viktor smiled down at her and she swore she saw something flash in his dark eyes before they moved away.

They settled comfortably on the couch and had their coffee, talking about the state of affairs now that Voldemort was back, Viktor passionate about what he saw as a lack of concern from his own country. He shook his head. “Tonight is not for such unpleasant thoughts,” he said. “It is for enjoying. Has the coffee helped?”

“Better,” she said happily, feeling less groggy with alcohol. He laid his arm across the back of the couch, his fingers toying with a lock of her hair. “Happy Christmas Herm-own-ninny,” he said softly, his eyes looking into hers. “There vas another Christmas eve ve spent together. Do you remember?”

Hermione’s felt her face burn and she glanced down at her hands. “How could I ever forget,” she said softly. “A girl only loses her virginity once.”

They’d met for weeks in the library, Viktor watching her with intense eyes that annoyed her at first and later left her breathless when he at last gathered the courage to ask her to her the Yule Ball.

After the Yule Ball he’d told her to meet him in the library, in a manner that brooked no argument. It was her anger and hurt over Ron that spurred her to break the rules and meet with the Bulgarian seeker that night. There amidst the ancient books, books that she’d read with eagerness, savoring each word of knowledge, she’d learned another lesson; a lesson of passion. Even two years later she couldn’t walk by the table Viktor had taken her on without blushing.

His fingers traced a path up her arm to thread into her thick mass of hair. “I remember that night too,” he murmured, guiding her face closer. His lips covered hers with a soft inquisitive touch. A tiny spark flared in her stomach, her hand drifting up to his face of its own accord. Viktor teased the crease of her lips with his tongue and they parted for him in invitation, her tongue darting out to taste him, the residue of Rakiya heavy.

Viktor pulled her closer, drawing her leg up and placing it over his until he had her in his lap. A low moan rumbled in his throat, his kiss deepening, his hand in her hair now moving down her throat, lower until he cupped her breast through her jumper.

Pulling back reluctantly, Hermione looked at him. “Viktor, we can’t,” she said in a soft voice tinged with desire. Her body protested her words as she unconsciously rocked her hips against him.

“Vhy? Your parents are not here. Ve are alone.”

Ron’s face flashed in her mind and she sighed inwardly. “Viktor, I, well, I fanc…” Hermione closed her mouth, a furrow appearing between her brow. What was she suppose to say? Sorry, I fancy another bloke who spends most of his time with his tongue down another witch’s throat. Anger and hurt welled up in her and she forced a smile. “There’s no reason in the world,” she said more fiercely than she intended.

He smirked. “None vatsoever.” His mouth covered hers again and Hermione slipped her arms around his neck, parting her lips and meeting his passionate kiss with equal passion.

“Undress for me,” he demanded, a roguish smile curving his lips.

She hesitated, her cheeks growing pink, then got to her feet. A slight tremor in her hands belied her bravado as she pulled her jumper over her head. He sat back, his dark eyes piercing her very being, devouring each inch of skin that was revealed as her skirt joined the pile. When she finally stood before him naked, he held out his hand to her. “Sit.”

Rubbing herself over his hardness through his trousers, Hermione whimpered into his mouth. It felt so good, had been so long. The rough wool was prickly on her thighs but just so right on her clit. Viktor broke the kiss, his hot urgent kisses trailing down her throat, his hand moving down to stroke her curls.

“You vill come for me now,” he commanded, his thumb pressing hard against her clit.

Viktor slid his finger up and down her wet slit then brought it to her lips, smearing her juices over her bottom lip before licking them clean himself. “You taste sweet,” he said with a wicked grin. “Now you vill go lay down before the fire and vait for me.”

Hermione stretched out on the braided rug before the hearth, her heart racing as she watched him undress. Deftly, with a grace born of his years as a champion seeker, his clothes joined hers on the floor and he was there, covering her with his lean lithe body, parting her thighs and thrusting in deeply. Her fingers gripped his shoulders as her body stretched to accept him. His eyes bore into hers as he pulled completely back then filled her again.

Viktor’s mouth quirked a moment. “Can this boy make you feel like this?” he asked, fucking her with long slow strokes.

“I…no,” she gasped, her nails racking across his back. It’d been too long and she felt something inside of her release, the need to express this side of herself she kept hidden from her friends. “Harder..gods, Viktor…please.”

A flash of triumph glimmered in his eyes as he drew one of her legs up, twisting his body with each thrust, grinding into her. The fire burned bright in the hearth, casting golden shadows on his face, its heat paling to the heat coiling deep inside her.

“Do you remember how you screamed, that night in the greenhouse?” he asked,

She moaned out a yes, her hips lifting to meet his. He’d brought her to brink of madness over and over that night until, when he finally allowed her to come, she’d cried out so loudly it set off the Mandrakes in alarm.

“Scream for me, Herm-own-ninny.”

With a strangled cry, Hermione arched up as her body trembled, a wave of hot pleasure racing through her blood as the tight coiling in her body exploded, leaving her panting, grasping onto consciousness. Vaguely she felt him leave her body, strong hands turning her over and bringing her up on her knees, his cock sliding easily into her slick cunt. Viktor gripped her hips, pulling almost completely from her and then slammed into her and she barely had time to brace herself to keep her face from biting the floor. Over and over again he pushed hard into her, muttering thick words of his native language and all she could do was hang on, gasping in the painful pleasure he bestowed.

“Are you thinking of this boy? Imagining it’s his cock making your pussy hot and vet?” His breath was heavy, his voice deep and seductive against her ear.

“No…” she puled, her eyes fluttering shut, willing away the image of Ron that hadn’t been there until now. Viktor’s hand twisted in her hair, pulling her head back, tugging with the rhythm of thrusts.

“Do not lie, Herm-own-ninny. You vere thinking of him just now,” he chuckled, his teeth nipping the back of her neck.

“Yes….”

“That is good. Vhen you are vith him you vill think of me…of this.”

With a shout he came. She felt his hot release fill her, trickle down her thighs, triggering her third release. Spots danced in her vision, blinding her, her body shaking from the rush of such pleasure.

Viktor pulled away and sprawled out on the rug, panting heavily. His mouth quirked and he gathered her to him. “You vare vonderful, just as I remembered,” he said slyly, tilting her chin up to kiss her. They lay basking in the warmth of the fire, a fine sheen of sweat chilling their flushed skin until Viktor urged her away and got up to dress. Hermione raised up on one elbow, watching him dress and admiring his lean form, feeling very sated and a little guilty. Taking the throw from the couch, she wrapped it around her when he was completely dressed, suddenly very aware of her nakedness. He offered her a hand, helping to her feet. Viktor brushed back her tangled hair and kissed her cheek.

“I must go. Ve haff another meeting in the morning.” His trademark scowl was back in place. “You vill vrite me sometime?”

Hermione pulled the throw tighter around her, stepping forward to place a gentle kiss on his lips. “I will,” she promised earnestly. “Viktor, this…this can’t, I mean, this was just…”

“An unexpected Christmas gift,” he said simply, his eyes shining with amusement. “It vos good to see you again Herm-own-ninny. I hope this boy understands you like I do.” With that, he opened the door and left.

She stared at the door a minute, her body still tingling from his understanding. Viktor did understand that part of her, the part that wanted to be told what to do, to make her give up control. Maybe Ron didn’t understand her, yet, but she was positive that some day he would. If not, well, there was always a virile Bulgarian to keep in mind.