Title: Poison Paradise

Author: ExcentrykeMuse

Beta: Kamerreon

Song: "Good Enough," Evanescence

CHAPTER EIGHT – Good Enough

Under your spell again.
I can't say no to you.
Crave my heart and it's bleeding in your hand.
I can't say no to you.

Shouldn't let you torture me so sweetly.
Now I can't let go of this dream.
I can't breathe but I feel...

Good enough,
I feel good enough for you.

Late August 1994, Sofia, Bulgaria (Viktor 17, Henrik 14)

A rough wind nearly shattered the glass of a small turret window in an old fortress on the outskirts of magical Sofia. In the dim light of a single candle, Viktor Damyanovitch Krum gazed into nothingness, his rounded shoulders hunched forward as his chiseled face rested in his open palm. Shadows played against his features, making him appear ghoulish, almost like an evil wizard out of the darkest nightmares of a Muggle fairy story.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't forget what he had stumbled across in his father's study earlier that evening. He and Henrik had been running about their home, looking for the small Snidget Viktor had given him when they were children.

"Viktor," Henrik had complained, "how can I possibly sleep once you go to Hogwarts without Snidget?"

The brothers had barely spent a night apart since Henrik had turned eleven, and Snidget had to have gone 'somewhere safe' in the intervening three years.

"Aren't you a little old for such things, Henrik?" their mother had asked calmly, a twinkle in her eye.

"The Golden Snidget," Henrik began in a self-important voice, "is historically one of the most fascinating Magical Creatures, especially as Muggles have no idea they even exist."

Silva had laughed at her younger child. "Perhaps it is in your father's study?" she had suggested. "I seem to remember he had it in there at one point to remind him of you once you had gone off to learn great things."

Henrik had run over and hugged his mother, who had kissed the top of his head with affection. She hadn't known, all those years ago, that this small child could be so dear to her, a son not of her flesh.

Viktor had leaned against the wall and just smiled at the picture. Henrik and their mother were undoubtedly the beautiful members of the Krum family and made quite the picture: Silva tall and stately with a mass of golden hair, and Henrik slim, yet sophisticated, with shining emerald eyes.

"I'll get it, Henrik. You stay with mother," he had offered with a fond shake of his head.

Silva and her sons rarely entered Damyan's study, knowing that there were Ministry files and artifacts littered throughout. Although Damyan was a family man, and liked to share every aspect of his life with his wife of almost twenty years, he nonetheless handled documents that were matters of national security.

During the first years of his marriage, he had dutifully locked them up in a drawer so that he could take tea with her in the afternoons. But when Viktor was born, they had found it wasn't practical, especially when Damyan had been promoted to Chief Warlock of the Bulgarian Wizengamot. Silva, however, had only smiled and told him that the study could serve as a place where he could work and no one else would enter it, except when invited or under unforeseen circumstances.

Henrik had never entered the small room, though Viktor remembered being summoned there a few days before he left for his first year at Durmstrang, his father wondering why he was so insistent that they not blood adopt Henrik into the family.

The room hadn't changed much and, after a close inspection of the shelves, he found the Snidget plush he had given Henrik all those years before. Reaching out, he couldn't help but touch it softly, almost in a caress, thinking of how much his Harry had changed over the years, though still possessing his childlike innocence and love of life.

Then he had seen it – sitting on his father's desk – and he couldn't draw his eyes away.

The document was larger than most, having been carefully transcribed onto a large sheaf of parchment, and written in a hand that was both elegant and economical. As he had looked closer, he had seen that it was what he had feared – a marriage contract. What had made it even worse, though, was that it appeared to be a fully detailed arrangement that needed only the signatures of the two family heads with the token signatures of the heirs involved.

Trying not to rip the parchment into shreds, he had looked closer, wondering what dimwitted Hungarian or Russian his parents wanted him to marry now, and had been startled when he saw the name 'Malfoy'. Peering closer, he had seen that he was in fact supposed to marry Draco Malfoy, the little wizard who was friends with Henrik.

Henrik.

The thought had twisted in his mind and had sickened him and, without thinking of the consequences, he had pulled out his father's chair and had sat down heavily. Picking up the document, he had inspected it closely, and felt his heart begin to break.

Draco Lucius Malfoy, he had read, scanning through the English the contract was written in. Marriage … Malfoy property in Southern France … property in Eastern Bulgaria … to take the Malfoy name … His eyebrows had shot up, wondering exactly why he was expected to take the Malfoy name, especially considering his successful Quidditch career. His eyes scanned again, … bearer of heirs to be decided no later than three years after marriage … when each reaches the age of majority … various Gringott bank vault numbers and sums … the wizard known as Henrik Ivan Gavrail Krum …

His black eyes had darkened as he read that name. This wasn't a contract for him and the Malfoy heir, but for Henrik.

Could his Harry possibly know about the contract? Could he want to marry Draco so much that he was willing to give up his name?

He had felt sickened at the very thought of anyone touching his younger brother, anyone making him smile, anyone kissing his soft lips, anyone else holding him as he slept, sliding their filthy hands through his long black locks, daring to kiss his faded scar when he had a nightmare he couldn't wake himself up from, loving him, making him call out their name …

Viktor's hand had clenched around the Snidget and he could barely see anything around him.

Then he remembered. Henrik, his Harry, laughing with this Draco, inviting him to the Quidditch party when before only the two of them would go, talking to him in the dark forest as they watched the Death Eaters tear apart the campsite.

Henrik had even written to the interloper several times since they'd returned to Bulgaria. A smile would appear on his face when a great eagle owl would come and find him at random times of the day. When a response came, Henrik's eyes brightened as he told Viktor that he could see Draco when he went to Hogwarts, and how perhaps Mother and Father would let Mr. Malfoy take him to the tasks.

Viktor had quickly left the study, shoving the Snidget into his father's hands when he met him on the stairs. "Henrik wanted this," he had practically snarled before shutting himself in the tallest tower, with nothing but his own thoughts for company, Damyan only sighing as he guessed what had happened.

Perhaps this was for the best, he thought to himself. Viktor was too possessive of Henrik and needed to learn that he would have his own life once he came of age. He needed to let his brother grow up and be loved as he deserved to be loved – by a lover and spouse.

Drink up sweet decadence.
I can't say no to you,
And I've completely lost myself, and I don't mind.
I can't say no to you.

Shouldn't let you conquer me completely.
Now I can't let go of this dream.
Can't believe that I feel...

Good enough,
I feel good enough.
It's been such a long time coming, but I feel good.

Hours passed and Viktor still hadn't moved. He hadn't noticed the silver moon rising above the capital city, the wind rattling against the glass as it tore across the world in agony.

The house must have gone to sleep hours before, but he could not rest.

Henrik doesn't want me, he chanted in his mind. Never had. He'd just imagined it. Viktor was nothing more than a brother, someone to watch and wait until Henrik was grown so Viktor could witness Henrik loving someone more than the paltry affection he obviously felt for the Malfoy boy.

Softly, in nothing more than the moonlight, he began to cry. His heart felt like it was being wrenched into thousands of tiny pieces, and nothing could put it back together again.

If only, he thought to himself, before pushing the idea aside.

If it hadn't been Draco, it would have easily been someone else.

He, Viktor Krum, was nothing. He had always known he was next to ugly, inheriting none of his mother's grace or his father's stateliness. He was duck-footed and scowled at anyone who dared to look his way. He couldn't help it. Nothing had mattered since he was a boy of eleven except for Henrik's smile, and he'd only have that until Henrik turned seventeen – if he would even have it for that long.

The only thing he truly excelled at was flying, but what would be the point in that if he couldn't present his Harry with a Snitch at the end of each game? Everything Viktor did, he did for him, but that hadn't been enough. It would never be enough.

Henrik would never truly be his.

Viktor struggled to contain his sobs as his body hunched over. The tears marred his already shadowed face, but the heartache was too much to bear.

He was so lost in his own misery, Viktor didn't even hear the creak of the door as it opened, the soft padding of feet against the cold stone floor being lost in the hiss of the wind.

Henrik stopped in front of him, looking down at his older brother, dressed in little more than a pair of pajama bottoms and a Weird Sisters' shirt that Draco had sent him as a gift, insisting that they were better than any Muggle band Henrik might like.

He didn't understand what had happened. One moment, Viktor was smiling at him and fetching his Snidget, before disappearing behind several slammed doors.

He had looked at his father, who had held out Snidget to him, but Damyan Krum had only shared a knowing look with his wife before telling Henrik to give Viktor space.

Henrik had nodded and waited, believing that like every night that summer, and every summer before, he would only have to wait long enough to slip out of his room into Viktor's. But Viktor hadn't been there. Instead, the room had been cold, unused, containing a half-open trunk littered with various books and robes.

He had slipped into the bed, pulling Snidget close in Viktor's absence and waited, listening to the wind howling against the fortress' walls.

But Viktor hadn't come, hadn't returned, and after eleven Henrik had begun to worry. For a painstakingly long sixty minutes, he had watched the hands on the clock move until he couldn't wait anymore.

So he had gone in search of Viktor, wandering throughout the small citadel until he had finally opened the battered door at the top of an old case of stairs, only to see the one he cared most about in the whole world sobbing uncontrollably.

"Viktor?" he called quietly, reaching out to trace an escaping tear as it marred Viktor's beloved face. "What's wrong?"

Dark eyes looked into green, but Viktor couldn't hold the innocent gaze and quickly looked away again, his shoulders shaking with suppressed emotions.

"Viktor," Henrik whispered again, kneeling before his protector. "Viktor, Viktor. You didn't come to bed." He hesitantly reached out and brushed Viktor's tears away, although Viktor refused to meet his insistent gaze.

He couldn't think about those words – You didn't come to bed. How long had Viktor secretly dreamed that Henrik would grow up and say those words to him in earnest with a knowing smile or a glint in his eye? He wanted to be the one to hold Henrik tight every night until death should claim them.

He knew it was wrong, had been telling himself that since the age of thirteen when his parents had first approached him about a marriage with a foreign family, and all he had thought was that he couldn't marry that girl because he was going to marry his Harry one day.

"Viktor?" Henrik persisted, tilting Viktor's face so it was facing him. "Viktor, please." He swept his hand through Viktor's short hair, making him sigh in contentment despite his sorrow.

Henrik smiled slightly at his brother's reaction and grew bolder, wrapping his arms around Viktor's neck until he was awkwardly nestled against his solid frame.

He said nothing, only watching the flickers of shadow over Viktor's shoulder, gently stroking his hero's neck, just wanting to give him some comfort. Anything, he wanted to promise him. I'll do anything for you if only you would smile at me again.

Minutes ticked by, but neither of them moved, Viktor not even embracing Henrik as he normally would.

Henrik felt stiff against the unresponsive frame and finally drew back again, his hands never leaving the back of Viktor's neck.

"Are you angry with me?" he finally asked in a small voice.

Viktor's eyes snapped to Henrik's face at the question, but now Henrik was looking elsewhere, too afraid of what he'd see in those dark eyes.

"Please," he begged, "whatever I did, I'm so sorry. I'll even go away if you want me to. Leave you alone so you can go to sleep. Anything, Viktor! Please, just don't be angry! Ne plachi." His thoughts raced as he reviewed everything that had happened before Viktor had disappeared to this small, closed room. He could think of nothing. But it had to be something; he just knew it. Viktor had specifically avoided him, not even bothering to give him Snidget or go to sleep, knowing Henrik would be there waiting for him.

Rough hands alighted upon his face, and Henrik turned to see Viktor looking at him, his gorgeous black eyes laced with misery.

"I did do something," Henrik sighed in resignation, only to find himself crushed against Viktor's chest moments later.

"Never, my Harry," he whispered into dark locks. "You could never make me angry. I love you too much for that." And those words were the truth. No matter what happened, whatever Henrik wanted Viktor would give him, if he could.

And he would be content as long as he knew that Henrik was happy and well loved. That was all he could ask for in life, and he would do everything to make it possible.

"Then why are you here alone, where it's cold?" Henrik asked innocently.

Viktor, at first, only answered with a soft kiss to Henrik's exposed scar, and Henrik sighed in contentment, clasping firmly onto his brother again.

"Schte te zavinage obicham, Viktor," he confessed softly. "I can't bear to see you cry."

Viktor closed his eyes in pain, willing himself not to cry again. He had Henrik in his arms at that moment, and that's what truly mattered. He would hold him and keep him safe for as long as it was in his power to do so, before gently giving him to another upon Henrik's wedding day.

"I'm sorry, my Harry," he eventually ground out. "I was just thinking."

"Thinking? About what?"

But Viktor couldn't answer, wouldn't do that to Henrik, refused to make him feel guilty for growing up and wanting another. "I'll do anything for you. You know that, Henrik, right?"

Henrik nodded against Viktor's neck. "I know. You're my Viktor. You'll always take good care of me, always be there."

"As long as you want me," Viktor vowed, "and perhaps even longer."

Henrik's brows scrunched together in thought before he pulled away, his eyes tracing Viktor's every feature. "Is that what this is about?"

Viktor glanced away, but Henrik persisted.

"I know it's not your fault you're going to Hogwarts. I know you're not abandoning me."

Viktor couldn't help but sigh, but he latched onto Henrik's assumption. "I know, Henrik, but I can't help but worry. You've never been without any of us before."

"Then let's make good on the time we have," Henrik said sagely. "J-just be with me now, and I'll try to visit, although you're going to England." He scrunched up his face as he had when he was a child for Viktor's benefit, who couldn't help but chuckle gruffly at the sight. "We also have two months before you leave," he reminded gently.

"I know, my Harry, I know." Viktor looked at the face before him and still saw the worry present in it. Trying to smile, he gently traced Henrik's cheek before kissing his forehead again softly. "It's too late for little ones to be out of bed," he teased softly.

"I'm not little," Henrik countered. "Not since Mother and Father gave me Nutrition Potions."

"Smaller than me, though."

Henrik smiled wistfully, taking Viktor's larger hand in his own and tracing the curves of it gently. "I might surprise you when I grow up."

"Never do that," Viktor quietly commanded before he could stop himself. "Stay my Harry, always."

Henrik gasped at the quiet emotion in his voice before smiling gently in the candlelight. "I'll always be your Harry, Viktor. Only yours and never anyone else's."

And Viktor's heart broke just a little bit more, wishing with all his soul that those words might possibly be true.

And I'm still waiting for the rain to fall.
Pour real life down on me.
'Cause I can't hold on to anything this good enough.
Am I good enough for you to love me too?

So take care what you ask of me,
'Cause I can't say no.

(o)

Bulgarian Translations:

Ne plachi. Don't cry.

Schte te zavinage obicham. I will always love you.

(o)

Author’s Note: Here it is, not late at all. Hurrah! Thanks to everyone who’s reading and reviewing. I love reading your comments, so do hit the review button. Next chapter should be Durmstrang arriving at Hogwarts and Draco will of course be making an appearance. Cheers, cen.