The Long Wait

It's a bit of fluff but I was in a bit of a mood. Written for savepureness in a challenge. The prompt was "What does this mean, doable?". Many thanks to Linkar for giving my Viktor form and to my mystery beta who wishes to remain a ... mystery.

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The man was bloody frustrating. JUST. FRUSTRATING.

How dare he? Hermione Granger huffed out a long angry sigh.

Merlin, she hadn’t seen him in years. YEARS! Well, maybe years was a bit of an exaggeration, perhaps it was less than that. She’d kept up her reading of him in the Wizarding news. His ruggedly handsome good looks never failed to make headlines as a star seeker or being photographed with a tall, stunning and exotic-looking witch on his arm. The complete opposite of her petite and curvy measurements.

He’d certainly changed. He’d grown, become more muscular and more famous, if that were possible. Clearly, he’d forgotten his little school dalliance with her. She, however, hadn’t quite forgotten him.

They’d bumped into each other occasionally over the last five years, since the war ended, but circumstances had always prevented them from speaking at length. On her part, she was slightly embarrassed after having ended her letter-writing when the war broke out and she’d finally started dating Ron. Now, two years later, their break-up, like the relationship, had made The Daily Prophet gossip pages. Their dating life had been under such scrutiny, it put a strain on their romance. It made them realize they needed to end it or they’d lose their friendship, which was much more important to both them. Ron was now happily dating former Slytherin queen Pansy Parkinson, who was also one of Hermione’s best friends.

The man across the room was the last person she expected to see at the Annual Heroes Ball, she couldn’t recall him ever having been in attendance and this year’s event was held in a, somewhat, remote location. It was an estate donated by a mysterious patron. Sitting outside London in the gorgeous countryside, the grounds were covered by beautiful gardens charmed to remain in constant bloom. A magnificent manor housed an oversized ballroom and home filled with stunning antiquities and warm furnishings. Hermione didn’t know who lived here but she wished she could explore to find the library, which, undoubtedly, would be as impressive as the rest of the house – the owner had excellent taste.

A slight movement from the man in question’s direction brought her little reverie to an end. The boy she recalled had been charming, sweet and tender not this . . . arrogant, smug, tall, darkly handsome, aggressive alpha male staring at her from across the room. And that’s all he’d been doing all night.

Staring.

Viktor Krum hadn’t danced, barely moved nor spoken to nary a person; no, he merely leaned against the column of the overly decorated ballroom dressed in fine black robes accentuating every hard plane of his body and stared.

At her.

Hermione tossed her head of soft mahogany-colored curls to the left, narrowing her eyes as her gazed settled on the man making her feel like a specimen under a Muggle microscope. The unending perusal of her was disconcerting and making her angrier as seconds passed. He’d neither returned her polite wave when she first entered the room nor had he made any attempt to move from the blasted column. She’d felt his eyes follow her across the room, burn into her when she danced or trail her as she made her way greeting various familiar faces.

Really, how dare he?

Summoning every bit of her old Gryffindor courage, she smoothed out imaginary wrinkles from her midnight blue, Muggle designer, Grecian-goddess styled gown and took one step towards Viktor. A familiar voice calling her name halted her mission. Turning, she looked up into the smiling face of her other male best friend.

“Harry,” Hermione grinned, happily. “Don’t you look handsome? Where’s Ginny?”

“Dancing with Neville, I think.” Harry’s smile widened as he appraised her with his eyes. “You look beautiful. And I don’t think I’m the only one that’s noticed, eh?” He made no attempts at discretion as he looked, pointedly, over her shoulder.

Bristling slightly, the petite witch pursed her lips. “Thank you. And I’m sure I don’t know what you mean?”

“We’ve been friends too long for you to play coy with me. Viktor Krum hasn’t taken his eyes off of you all evening.” His eyes drifted over her head. “In fact, he’s glaring daggers at me, right now.”

Eyes widening in shock, Hermione spun around. “What?” Molten chocolate eyes clashed with dark obsidian. She watched a small smirk blossom around his lips before she huffed once again and turned back to refocus on Harry. “Honestly, he’s clearly not the same Viktor we knew in school. He’s become quite rude and full of himself.”

Harry grinned. “Really?”

“Oh yes. I would certainly give him a piece of my mind, given the chance, but he seems to have been hexed with a Sticking Charm. That infuriating man hasn’t moved from that spot all night.”

“Oh, really?”

Hermione nodded. “He’s quite rude, if you ask me.”

Crossing his arms across his chest, Harry cocked his head to one side. “And given the chance, you’d tell him so, would you?”

“Of course I would, Harry.” By now the tiny witch had her hackles up just thinking about her imaginary conversation with the handsome Seeker. Raising her nose slightly, she airily replied, “I’m not afraid of anyone, least of all Viktor Krum.”

“Good,” came the response from her green-eyed friend. “Because he’s headed this way.”

Hermione felt an icy cold chill run her spine as her head snapped up to look at Harry, her lips frozen in a small, perfect “o”. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“No. He just sidestepped McCormac . . . bumped Malfoy . . . oh, he’s shaking hands with Kingsley . . . yes, he’s definitely on his way here.” Harry grinned and lifted his hand to wave.

“HARRY POTTER,” Hermione hissed, grabbing his hand and pulling it down. “I’m going hex you so badly . . .”

The hairs in the back of her head seemed to stand on end. Hermione could feel the shift in the air and she knew, before she even heard or saw him, Viktor was now standing behind her.

“Herrmione.”

The deep baritone voice startled Hermione; she didn’t remember his voice being so . . . well . . . deep. Turning slowly, she gazed up into the finely chiseled features of Viktor Krum. The first thing that struck her was how handsome he was. He really didn’t compare to other men she ticked off in her mind: Harry was sweetly good-looking, Ron’s flaming hair and freckles gave him his boyish good looks, Neville had grown into handsome man and once or twice had thrown her off with a certain look, Malfoy was just beautiful with the silver eyes and Blaise Zabini’s smooth, dark complexion lent him an air of exoticism. Viktor was just all man: a fine, strong jaw, high cheekbones and dark eyes which seem to pierce her very soul. His olive complexion and closely cropped hair rounded out a very fine-looking male specimen.

Towering over her tiny frame, Hermione fought the urge to instinctively take a step back. “Viktor, how lovely to see you.” She gave him a weak, forced smile.

Harry’s voice carried over her head. “Viktor, how you’ve been, mate? I haven’t seen you since the World Championships.”

Hermione felt as if she’d been rooted to the spot and felt, rather than saw, the two men shake hands and Viktor mumble a reply to Harry. All she could do was stare at Viktor; her breathing becoming more erratic with each passing moment. Merlin, what was wrong with her? Why was he affecting her so strongly? She was no longer a silly school girl.

“Well, you’ll excuse me. Ginny’s waiting for me,” Harry suddenly said. “Don’t be a stranger, Viktor. I’ll owl you tomorrow, Mione.”

Spinning faster than she thought possible, Hermione latched onto Harry’s arm. “Where are you going?”

A slow, wicked grin spread across her friend’s features as he gently pried her trembling fingers from his arm. “I’m going to dance with my fiancée. You’ll be fine, Mione.” Pausing, he eyed Viktor squarely. “I’m entrusting my best friend to your capable hands, Viktor. Take care of her, won’t you?” Squeezing her hands, he dropped them and walked off, leaving her sending daggers at his retreating form.

Bastard! What ever happened to House loyalty? He’d purposely left her here. Alone. With Viktor Krum!

“Herrmione?”

That voice again. Goddess, she was going to either going to melt or die. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to face her fate. She’d box her best friend’s ears later.

“Viktor,” she replied.

Hermione shifted and gave a wan smile as her gaze darted to the dance floor, her feet and back to Viktor. He, on the other hand, stood quite still looking down at her. Suddenly, a small grin of amusement blossomed on his lips causing the brunette witch to snap.

Squaring her shoulders and adjusting to her full 5’4 frame, Hermione steeled her gaze. “And what do you find so amusing, Mr. Krum?”

The little, infuriating grin continued to play around those beautiful and alluring lips. “You.”

“Pardon?”

“You ask vhat I find amusing, no?” Viktor leaned down close to whisper in Hermione’s ear. “I find you amusing and so verry beautiful, Herrmione.”

His hot breath caused a wave of tingles to dance down her spine and the butterflies in her stomach to swirl madly. Wordlessly, Viktor’s hands took her smaller ones to tug her to the dance floor and then pull her flush into his body.

Coming out as a whisper, Hermione breathed out, “Viktor, you take too many liberties. I never agreed to dance with you.”

“I take vhat I vish. I alvays vished for you.”

Wide-eyed, Hermione could feel her body blush furiously. “I’m not some prize for the taking.”

He laughed lightly, a rich sound enveloping her like warm hot chocolate warming the body inside out. “Yes, you are not some prize . . . your are, vhat is vord . . . . priceless?”

“Viktor, I don’t know where you’re going with this discussion. I haven’t seen or spoken to you in quite some time . . .”

“And jho’s choice vas dat, Herrmione?” His eyes were now tinged with a hint of anger. “Jho stopped writing to jhom?”

Caught off guard by the response, Hermione didn’t notice Viktor guide them to a small alcove hidden behind the very pillar he’d been resting on all evening. “What are you doing?”

Hermione wasn’t alarmed, on the contrary, she felt a small thrill of desire shoot through her body as he gently pushed her against the wall of the alcove and pressed his larger frame into her. Her hands rested lightly on his broad chest, while he place one arm over her head and the other traced calloused fingers delicately on skin of her arm.

“I vas angry you chose Veasley over me. I vanted you and hoped you vould . . . vant me, too. I vait for you and now you are here. You are beautiful and as soft as I remember. I kiss you now.”

“Vik . . . mmm.” Warm, gentle lips covered her own.

His lips were strong as he applied enough pressure to cut off her words. His tongue darted out tracing her bottom lip asking for entrance which she granted causing all rational thoughts to flee her mind. All she could focus on were the sensations Viktor’s tongue and lips were awakening in her. Her hands slid up his chest to wrap themselves around his neck as he continued to snog her senseless. Gentle kissing turned passionate and demanding as one hand tangled itself in her curls and the other trailed up her body to cover her chiffon-clad breast. She gasped.

Viktor paused. “I stop, yes?”

He peppered her lips with small pecks and began to pull away when she tightened her hold around his neck. “Please . . .” Goddess, she sounded desperate!

“Vhat, my beautiful Herrmione?” Viktor searched her face for an answer.

“I . . . I . . .” Her voice dropped to a low whisper. “I don’t want you to stop.”

A sharp intake of breath caused her to regret her words. What must he think of her? Quickly, she attempted to unravel herself from him but he held her fast. “No. You do not leave me, again. I not let you go this time.”

Hermione felt the awful sensation of Side-Along Apparition and, getting her bearings, looked around in alarm. “Viktor, where are we?”

“My bedroom. This is my new home. I buy thinking of you, for you.” He held onto her, continuing to trace her skin with his fingers at a maddeningly slow pace.

“For me?” Hermione shivered and closed her eyes. “I . . . I don’t u-understand.” She felt her body relax in his arms. She couldn’t recall ever feeling so safe, at least not since fifth year when Viktor had last held her.

Hot breath caressed her skin when she felt him lean down towards her ear and whisper, “I vait for you, Hermione. I always vait. I never forget you. I vant you; now and always, I vant you.” His lips kissed the side of her neck and she moaned lightly. “Is good you and he end things or I vould take you from him.”

His hands had moved to cup her breasts, immediately ceasing all thought and the implications of his words. Merlin, he felt so good. So hard. So strong. So safe.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, it registered that was the second time she’d had that thought. And she had no idea why. Viktor chose that moment to tweak both her nipples through the soft material of her dress causing her to throw her head back as a jolt of desire shot through her body. He seemed to be speaking softly while walking her backwards. The back of her knees hit the firm mattress of his bed. Part of her thought this was too fast but the other half felt as if she’d waited for Viktor long enough.

He continued to pepper her skin with small, open mouth kisses while one hand pushed at the straps of her gown. Hermione stopped his hands and opened her eyes to look into his, now tinged with lust. Wordlessly, she guided his larger hands with her smaller ones to the back of her dress. Her fingers showed him how to unzip her dress. Pushing him away slightly, she slowly slide the dress from her shoulders and let it pool at her feet. Not once did she allow herself to look away from Viktor’s eyes.

Standing there in nothing more than a scrap of silk and lace that barely passed for knickers, she heard Viktor emit a low growl as his eyes roamed over her flushing form. Hermione’s breathing was becoming more labored with desire as her knickers became damper with Viktor’s languid perusal. Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to please him.

She wanted to touch herself while he watched, she longed to caress her own skin, she urged to play with her own breasts and pinch her nipples until they were hard as pebbles, she needed to slide her fingers into her wet core and rub her clit until she came crying out his name . . . Hermione had no idea where this wanton fervor had come from but she closed her eyes and gave in.

Ever so slowly, she touched her warm skin. Starting at her hips, her hands and fingers brushed and caressed along her taut stomach, running up to her breasts but avoided the tiny buds already hard with need. Instead, she felt her way up to her neck and moaned, before coming back to her nipples. She pinched and pulled, all while murmuring Viktor’s name. One hand slid into her tiny knickers, finding herself wet and wanting.

So lost was she in her own pleasure, she didn’t sense Viktor’s presence until his hand locked around the wrist of the naughty hand swirling her clit so deliciously. Her eyes snapped open to find the handsome Bulgarian standing before gloriously naked and a determined look on his face. Smiling, she tried to tug her hand from his ironclad grasp; instead he pulled it out, bringing it up to his lips.

His voice was gruff, in a tone that brooked no argument. “You vill come vhen I vish.” He then licked her essence from her fingers.

Hermione had only been with one other man and Ron had never done anything so erotic. “Viktor . . .,” she breathed.

He looked at her and grinned devilishly. “On bed. Now.”

Not once breaking each other’s gaze, she backed up a few steps and felt the bed, once again, hit the back of her legs. As gracefully as possible, she lay back and brought up her legs for leverage as she wiggled her body into the middle of the soft sheets.

Viktor walked up to the edge and knelt down at her feet. “Do not move.”

Soft kisses began at and trailed up her feet, legs and tops of her thighs. Viktor’s large hands massaged her legs until they reach her knickers which he grabbed and pulled off. Determined hands spread her legs as a warm mouth and wet tongue traced circles on her inner thighs. Taking deep breaths, she sought to not move and nearly screamed in relief when she felt that sinful mouth finally enclose her very wet pussy.

Merlin, the man’s tongue was . . . oh, goddess. He would lick her with flat, broad strokes then suck before completely engulfing her swollen nub to pick up the pace. All the while, she didn’t move. She could feel a small sheen of perspiration begin to bead on her body. She wanted to come so badly but Viktor’s torture didn’t seem to have an end.

“Viktor, please,” came her plea.

One finger gently entered her as he stopped his sweet attack. “You make me vait, now you vait. Do not come, my Herrmione. I vish to play more.”

Hermione could only nod and watch as he went back to his task of licking, sucking and swirling her body into a frenzy. All while that finger worked in and out of her. By the time her body was trembling with need from trying to not move or come, she was ready to cry but Viktor seemed to know she could hold out no longer.

“Relax.” His voice was soothing while he continued to pump her with his finger. “You can move and come, now. No more vait.”

It was as if a volcano had erupted within Hermione as Viktor devoured her with a renewed appetite. She moved against his mouth and arched her body when he crooked his finger. She could feel that magical bubble build and build to the point past bursting. Suddenly, she felt as if her entire body had shattered into a million white shards.

“Gods, yessss . . . Viktor.”

He suckled her through her intense orgasm and as she came down, her body shaking slightly from the tiny aftershocks. Hermione could hear her heart pounding and the rush of her blood coursing through her veins, everything seemed more alive, suddenly. Viktor crawled up her recovering form and hovered over hers. With lips still glistening from his handiwork, he bent and kissed her deeply.

Hermione kissed him back greedily, relishing in her own taste. When Viktor finally broke apart, she smiled up at him. “There are no words. That was . . . amazing.”

“I give you more pleasure but you stay vith me. I no vait for you. I vant you by my side alvays, Herrmione.”

“Viktor,” Hermione said softly. “I think that’s very doable.”

“Vhat does this mean, doable?” Viktor’s brows furrowed in confusion.

Laughing, she reached up and cradled his face in her hands. “It means, yes. I’ll stay with you. It means, I’m here. It means, no more waiting.”

Gone, suddenly, was the arrogant, smug and aloof man she glimpsed earlier. In his place was her Viktor – sweet, tender and loving. It was her Viktor who kissed her sweetly. It was her Viktor who tenderly played her body like a fine tuned instrument. It was her Viktor who lovingly thrust into her and found the perfect rhythm bringing them both to a powerful climax.

It was her Viktor that held her afterwards and slept entwined in her arms.

Years later, Hermione would recall how frustrated she’d started the evening, yet how satisfying it had ended. She’d fondly remember thinking him rude.

He’d waited so long. For her.

Two children, nine anniversaries, multiple birthdays, countless laughs and memories, endless kisses and nights of ecstasy later, she was glad he’d waited!

fin