This has been floating around in my head for quite a while kinda distracting me from writing other things so I thought I might as well do it since my attention refuses to drift elsewhere. Hope you enjoy!
The Deni Pie
------------------------------------------------------------P r e t t y T r a c k M a r k s
Everything, everything inside and out was nothing but searing fire, torching every nerve and blood vessel. Every muscle, every bone, every patch of flesh on his body hurt. He was nothing more than a tall, lanky, sallow ball of complete torture. Fortunately the hours had dulled the sharp, excruciating sting into a dull, throbbing, ache. It hurt to walk, it hurt to move, it was absolutely torturous to sit. But worst yet, it hurt to fly. It hurt too much to fly.
The sky was where he felt peace, where he felt at home and calm. And those bastards had taken that away, along with everything else that made him who he was. Stripped him of everything until he was nothing but their mindless little bitch puppet. Stripped him until the once looming, powerful, famous Quidditch player had to limp away with what remained of his shredded and tattered dignity. He was once named the best seeker ever to handle a broom, the idol of millions, and look at him now.
He knew his parents were expecting him. Knew his father was frantically pacing the fireplace while his mother continued to nip at her nails and glance at the door every seven seconds. But he couldn't go home, couldn't stand to see the way they would look at him, look at what those demons had turned him into. He didn't want his father's pained, regretful sigh, didn't want his mother's tears as she fussed hysterically over him. Before he even knew what he was doing, he was on his broom, cringing and wincing at the horrible ache splintering through his very tendons as he mounted it. He knew he shouldn't be flying, knew he shouldn't be aggravating his already tender wounds. But if he got off, if he succumbed to his torn flesh and crippled bones, they would win. Again.
Shutting it out of his mind he concentrated on his mental compass, calculating the right directions to take in the air. He had flown with broken bones, ripped muscles, and cuts from every which way before. And he would fly with this too. His mind may have said it, but his body had several objections and often demanded that he land to rest and nurse his injuries if only for a little bit. He hated stopping, it gave him time to catch his breath and too much time to think, too much time to hate. His forearm throbbed, seemingly laughing at him, and he was grateful he had ripped a piece of his clothing to bind it.
His breaks never lasted long and soon he was back up, more determined to get as far away from that wretched place as humanly possible. It was late the next night when the recognizable silhouette of the familiar castle came into view on the horizon. Leaning forward he used the aerodynamic momentum for more speed and raced onto the massive school. When he finally came to levitate in front of it he cursed frustratedly in his mother tongue, now remembering he hadn't a clue where the right room might be.
Heaving an angry breath he steeled himself determinedly and began to circle the enormous castle, passing by each window with a bit of anticipation and hope for a light to be on.
Hermione deftly buttoned the last of her crimson, flannel pajamas with a sleepy yawn. She had finally finished the last of her rounds, and ushering overly curious first years back to bed was a chore vastly underestimated. But it was yet another responsibility, among others, of being Head Girl that she'd come to take very seriously. Glancing tiredly into the vanity she tied her bushy hair back into a ponytail, which looked more like a fluffy pompom or an enormous powder puff stapled to the back of her head.
"Perhaps you should consider nightcaps, dear." The mirror suggested giving her a critical once over.
She frowned back at the reflection, fists resting on her hips. "Perhaps you should consider minding your own business." She replied.
The vanity shrugged as the girl walked away muttering under her breath something about using compact mirrors from now. "Just giving you a tip, dearie."
Strolling into a bathroom she was at last able to claim as her own, Hermione plucked up a decent sized piece of floss and began to delicately twine it through her teeth. Ambling back into her own room she sat herself on the bed, careful not to jostle the string into her gum. She didn't know why so many students didn't do this, she rather enjoyed flossing, finding the sensations of the minty thread rubbing between her teeth to be quite pleasant. Then again it may just be the 15 or 16 odd years of dental cleanliness lessons her parents practically drilled into her since she was two. She could still see her little toddler self looking up at her father as he instructed her, by example, the proper conduct of perfect oral hygiene. Hermione chuckled as she remembered how he had taught her to count to one hundred and twenty as she brushed her teeth. 'Most people think a decent brush should last a minute at least, but we know better, don't we darling?' He would say to her with a wink.
To anyone else it would seem a grand display of a waste of time, brushing your teeth until you counted to one hundred and twenty, but she had yet to spot a single cavity since her teething days so that had to be saying something. She'd tried to coach Harry and Ron on the wonders of such hygienic upkeeping but she could tell they were only tuning her out until they could say 'Yeah, you got something there. Now about that arithmancy homework……' Well, if they wanted their teeth to rot out of their brainless little heads and suffer a horrible night of regrowing them then that was their business.
Hermione had just started on the top row when a sudden loud rattling almost startled her off the bed. Gathering herself together she brushed her canopy aside and glanced around the room, waiting for the sound to come again. It echoed off the walls once more, this time harsher and firmer than before and her eyes flickered to the window, shocked to see a large form hovering on the other side of it.
Once the initial fear and suspicion wore off she jogged lightly over to the sill, the night still covering the physique in unseeable blackness. She hesitated a moment before opening the window, her mouth dropping open as the details became clearer and the image much sharper. "Viktor!" Her eyes were as wide as saucers at his beaten form.
"May I come in?" He mumbled, his accent thick and harsh to her ears.
She nodded dumbly, stepping aside for the large Bulgarian to clamber through. Her jaw was still hanging open when she felt a tickling on her lower lip, only to realize a moment later that she never removed the floss now dangling from her two front teeth. Sheepishly pulling the string away she shoved it into her pocket with the mental reminder to wash her pajamas directly after.
Her delicate hand stifled a gasp at the very sight of him. He was like one big collage of gaping wounds and pulsating bruises. His nose looked like it had been broken yet again and blood crusted to his face and other parts of him that were exposed through the tears and rips in his clothes and robes. She noticed the right sleeve of his shirt had been ripped off and was now wrapped tightly around his forearm in what she guessed was his attempt at a makeshift bandage. "Oh just look at you. You look positively dreadful!" She worried.
Cautiously grasping at his shoulders she helped him the rest of the way through until he was standing slouched on her rug. "Come with me, you need to get to Madam Pomfrey!" She explained clutching his hand urgently.
"No!" He snapped, yanking the appendage away from her.
Hermione balked at that. "But she's the mediwitch here! You need help, you dolt!"
"I do not need your medivitch." He grumbled.
Her jaw opened and closed in astonishment. How could any idiot stand there practically bleeding on her carpet right in front of her and say he didn't need medical attention? "Fine." She bit out in frustration. "One moment, don't move." She commanded, racing to the bathroom.
He heard the squeak of knobs twisting and the flush of flooding water before she came back carrying what looked like a sloshing rubbish bin.
"Don't worry, the pale is clean. I only use this one for paper." She explained seeing him glance at the bin. "You should sit down. Here, use my bed if you like."
"I do not vant to sit." He muttered gruffly.
He seemed tired, and angry, she noticed how his large hands fisted and unfisted at his sides, how they appeared to shake with the irresistible urge to pummel something. "Alright then." She replied. Apparently they would be doing this the hard way.
Sliding the chair from her vanity it made a muffled skidding noise as she dragged it in front of him. Carefully kneeling on the furniture, Hermione stilled frightfully when it wobbled once before settling into the carpet. Leaning down, she took the soaked rag she'd dipped in the water filled bin and rung it out ever so slightly. Rising up on her knees to meet his height she began to dab at the cuts across his face and over his brow. "I wasn't sure what to use. Cold water helps against the swelling, but hot water sterilizes. I supposed since cuts can get infected we best see to those first." She said feeling a little uneasy with his scowling face, never revealing a single wince or cringe when she applied more pressure to the injuries.
"Your vater is still on." He groused, still able to hear the flood of liquid splashing against something hard.
"Yes it is." She agreed, softly wiping the last caked clump of blood from his nose. "There now, come with me." She ordered, stepping down from her chair and guiding him into her bathroom.
The water looked to be coming from the insides of a shower he noted. Turning back to the girl in front of him he noticed she was facing away from him, waiting expectantly. "I need for you to take off your shirt and pants, if you don't mind." She clarified, having that air of professionalism that she always had about her. When she heard no rustle of clothing she glanced back at him to find him simply standing there unmoving. "I'm not doing this for my own pervy benefit!" She glared waspishly. "Your cuts are so covered in bruises and gook that I can't see where one ends and another begins so I need you to get in the shower." Hermione demanded jerking her finger towards the spray of water.
Viktor finally gave a curt nod as she pivoted back around, and began shrugging his robes off his wide shoulders and down the tall length of his body. His shoes were next, then the socks, and lastly the torn pants. When all was done he stood there in nothing but his boxers, making sure to keep his front to her.
"Are you finished?" She questioned, turning her head to the side when she heard his consent. It was difficult to keep her face schooled as she twisted to face him. His body was covered head to toe in cuts, welts, burns, and bruises of various shapes and sizes. Sucking in a resolved breath, Hermione moved over to him, gently nudging him into the shower and under the spraying nozzle. Instantly a flow of pink water washed down his skin as the liquid mixed and diluted the blood found there, draining it down and flushing it to the drain. Walking in with him she didn't mind the shower soaking her pajamas and instead focused on the lacerations that were becoming easier to spot now that the water was cleansing the dirt and clotting away from the open lesions.
His eyes slid shut, letting the steaming spray wash everything away, the heat gradually relaxing his tense and knotted muscles. He stepped back until he was leaning against the tile wall, slitting his eyes open to watch her soft hands take a shower-cloth and tenderly pat at his gashes and abrasions. She wasn't looking at him, rather concentrating intently on her work, careful not to inflict further pain, but firm enough to clean the torn skin of any bacteria or infection. Her touch was soft, delicate, and nurturing, so unlike the harsh, disgusting, demasculinizing fingers that had been clutching and grabbing at him all too recently. Gazing down at her with half lidded eyes she looked impossibly small, her head only reaching below his breast bone. Seeing her like this gave him the overwhelming urge to grasp her in his arms, to press her against the shower wall, to feel big again, to feel like a man again.
Her flannel garments were now drenched and clinging to her flushed skin. And if he looked hard enough he could see the shadow of her nipples through the thick fabric. Her hair was thoroughly soaked as well, bangs and loose tendrils pushed flat against her forehead and her neck seemed to be straining against the overpowering weight of her waterlogged ponytail. He wondered if she would touch him still, if she knew the truth. If she knew what he had done. If she knew he wasn't even a man anymore.
Hermione braved a glimpse up at him before returning to her work. He looked so tired now, as though the wall were the only thing keeping his knees from buckling beneath him. The shower beat down on his lanky form, matting his short thick locks of raven hair against his scalp, hot beads of water dripping and running through the lines of his muscles. At last the water thoroughly cleared away the grubby skin, bringing it back to its normal sallow color and revealing every nick and incision to her inspecting gaze. She breathed a silent breath of relief when nothing looked particularly deep or life threatening. "Turn around, please. I need to check your back now." She instructed.
"No." He replied roughly.
A frown lit across her features at his incivility. "What do you mean 'no'? I need to look over your back, Viktor." She said more firmly this time, grasping his arm in an attempt to turn him around.
Easily batting her away he crudely shrugged her off. "I said no!" He snarled.
She glowered up at him though it was a hard feat to accomplish with the shower flinging water in her eyes. "Fine, but if you suddenly find the flesh on your backside rotting off don't complain to me." She spat. Skimming the wet rag over his chest, shoulders, and arms one more time for good measure she tugged at the resisting cloth tied around his forearm. "Better remove this so I can have a look see. I'm sure this bandage has grown into an absolute breeding ground for bacteria."
Viktor snatched his arm away from her inquiring hands. "It is fine." He bit out.
Making an exasperated noise in the back of her throat, her brow furrowed frustratedly. "Look, you don't have to tell me what happened, but I can't make sure nothing else will happen because of that if you won't let me clean those out properly." She explained sternly gesturing to his various burns and gashes.
His only response was to look away, saying nothing.
Hermione shook her head defeatedly under the furious jet of water. He was more than likely exhausted, Lord knowing where he came from. And she was no better off herself. It was doubtful that anymore could be accomplished tonight and they might as well turn in and deal with the rest in the morning. Hopefully by that time he would be more inclined to see Madam Pomfrey. She would have to hide him away here and pray the Head Prat wouldn't discover his newest piece of blackmail. "Listen, why don't you take the bed for tonight while I sleep in the comm-" Her words were abruptly cut off as a pair of firm lips came crashing onto hers and she was promptly hauled against a naked chest.
Too much had happened, too much was happening, and finally he could take it no more. She was shocked into mobility for a moment before she began to struggle against him, his worn body ached for him to release her and tend to the new pangs spearing him through, but he felt none of it. This was why he came; he wanted her to take it all away, no questions asked. To make it better, to kiss and touch away what they had done to him, to make him whole again. Her outraged protests drowned into his mouth as he kissed her so brutally, pummeling her lips as he wanted to pummel her body. His hand lost itself in her gnarled hair, pushing her ever closer to him as the other gripped her hard around the ribcage. His fingers pulled and tugged at the drenched fabric coating her body, desperate to have it off and hold her fittingly.
Clawing and pushing at him didn't seem to be doing any good and she was quickly becoming angry and desperate. When she felt his hand move under her top to fondle the bare wet skin there she immediately jerked her knee up to connect with his unprotected groin. He grunted painfully and she yelped as his knees gave way, taking her down with him. His shins smashed against the tile floor while her head hit the back of the shower door sending it careening open with a resounding crash. She lay there for a short while with him on top of her, waiting for her dazed bearings to return before furiously shoving him away from her.
Crawling out from under him she clambered out of the shower, promptly rounding on him with an enraged glare. "I now you're not exactly in the best of minds at the moment but don't you dare take your anger out on me!" She hissed. "You may be hurt but try that again and I'll toss you out with or without that broom of yours!" He slowly rose up to his knees with a cringe at his jostled injuries. "If you're well enough to attack me so cordially then I suppose you're well enough to clean yourself up." She spat throwing the soaked cloth at him disgustedly, fighting the urge to slam the bathroom door as she stormed out.
The rag hit him with a weak slap before sliding limply down his chest to the ground. Creening back he was careful to sit on his tailbone as he leaned against the cold tile wall. Viktor clenched and unclenched his fists, wanting, needing, to hit something, anything, to beat something down thoroughly. He knew he shouldn't have taken it out on her, he just couldn't stand that disgusting feeling of pure….pure weakness anymore.
He wore the same stony scowl he used for ferreting out a particularly devious snitch or intimidating an annoying younger year. The room was dark and dank and left the slimy taste of sludge in his mouth. He was here for his family, he was here for his life. Several cloaked wizards hidden behind white masks surrounded him as he stood in front of their master who was eyeing him devilishly.
"Should your present attendance with us mean you've finally come to your senses, little seeker?"
His voice slithered around him and tainted his skin, making him itch to cleanse himself of it. A curt nod was his only response, not yet able to make his voice utter such demeaning words of acceptance. The world is changing, his father had told him, the ones who change with it are the ones that live to see it again.
"I see." He purred. "You have resisted my calling for some time. You understand I cannot let it go unpunished."
He nodded again, his muscles tensing for the Cruciatus curse and possibly a series of other hexes and such. But a voice spoke out before a wand could even be raised.
"My lord," Viktor glanced over to see a man of average height look him over before turning back to his leader. "If I may make a suggestion?"
That filthy grin that Viktor so loathed widened into a crooked parody of a smile, as if already knowing what his servant might say. "You may, Avery."
"Perhaps we should first welcome him into our little family." He lilted, drawing out the word 'welcome' like a thing of perversion. "So that you may punish him suitably as a son and follower of your own, of course." He added.
He firmly believed the sound of Voldemort's laughter would be with him until his dying days. Instead of a deep baritone chuckle it was perfectly even and raspy, but it snaked into your ears and poured its grime into you until all you wanted to do was claw out your own eyeballs simply for the sake of extracting it. "That, my dear Avery, is an acceptable suggestion." He replied. "I'm sure you all would like to initiate your new brother properly." He welcomed.
Viktor looked down at the man he now knew to be Avery as he walked towards him with his master's permission. His thick eyebrows knitted together with the other man's approach, giving him a brief once over. Had they been anywhere else but here, he could knock him flat with one blow. And still the shorter male didn't appear the slightest bit threatened in the least.
Grunting painfully as he climbed to his feet, he twisted the shower knobs until the nozzle silenced its spray. Stepping out of the already open door he was careful of the water dripping off of him, creating hazardous little puddles in their wake. He walked over to what he assumed was her toiletry closet. The door opened with a short click to reveal several plush towels, a few bottles of shampoo and conditioner, and a basket of randomly assorted soaps. Taking a white towel from the top of one of the stacks he proceeded to dry himself off, rubbing the cloth furiously over his sopping hair.
When no more drops fell from his body he carefully folded the damp towel and placed it next to the sink. Shoving his soaked trunks down his legs he wrung them out over the drain, trying to ignore the redness that seeped away with the water. Only then did he find himself looking in the mirror above the hot and cold handles. No wonder she had been so frightened when first laying eyes on him. His cheekbones looked bruised and broken and his nose was swollen and battered, every angle of his face was covered in purple and blue with outlines of a sickly yellow. Yes, those bastards had certainly had their fun before smearing his arm with that wretched mark of theirs.
Idiotic, ruddy males! Hermione muttered a quick drying charm before slipping out of her pajamas in exchange for a robe decked in Gryffindor colors. She would find some more suitable sleep wear later, best to get something on now should he come out sooner than estimated. Sending another scathing look at the door she couldn't help wanting to give it a firm venting kick. Not that it would accomplish anything, which was why she refrained from such acts of childish immaturity.
Did every specimen of the opposing gender on this planet assume that all the world's problems could be solved simply with sex or a fist? She had only been trying to help him and how did he repay her? By jumping on her like a gorilla in heat. Hermione snorted, God should have left them at one head and stuck to it.
All righteous anger aside though, she should go and get her new bed in the common room set up, it would give her some decent space to let her irritation go. Taking a spare blanket from her closet she ambled toward the door, twisting it open to reveal the Head Boy lazily leaning against the frame, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. "Can I help you?" She deadpanned.
He gave her robe a slow once over, his eyes taking on a new light as if they'd just confirmed a hopeful suspicion. "Actually Granger-"
"That was a rhetorical question. Get out of my way." She demanded, shoving past him and making sure the door was well shut on her way out.
Not to be deterred, he continued to follow her down to the Head Common Room, watching her splay her blanket neatly along the couch with a knowing smirk. "Been kicked out of your own room, have you? In the dog house as it were?"
"I left a window open this morning and now my room's too cold. What do you care, Malfoy? What're you doing up so late any how?" She bit back.
He strolled around the sofa with that oh so aristocratic stride of his. "I was just getting a good night's rest, actually. Then all of the sudden I started hearing voices-"
Ignoring her interruption and blatant slight on his state of mind, he continued. "coming from the Head Girl's room. I was going to let it slide as a trick of the ears when not a few minutes later I hear the Head Girl's shower running. Now I couldn't help think to myself 'What on earth would St. Granger be doing taking a shower so late at night?' and that thought inevitably led to 'I wonder what her dear McGonagall would say regarding such oddities?' Perhaps she could shed some light on all this mind boggling confusion."
"Yes, and maybe she could shed some light on the voices I hear coming not from your room but this room as well. And why, after doing my rounds, I see Parkinson of all people leaving the Head Common Room where, according to Professor McGonagall, she's not even allowed." She snapped. "Perhaps she can also inform me as to why I've been personally basting this couch with every sanitizer I could get my gloved hands on before I'll so much as set my homework on it."
The haughty grin melted from his face faster than a snowflake in summer. Hermione could practically see the wind leave his egotistical sails as the opportunity of hanging something over her head quickly vanished from sight. "That's right, silencing charms on your room rather loose their purpose when your girlfriend leaves her knickers in the couch cushions don't they, you smug git?"
He glared at her foully, his once superior smile twisting into a pouting frown as she showed cards of her own, and what a marvelous hand they were. "Fine, I showed you mine, so you me yours."
Hermione sighed in exasperation, wouldn't he just go to bed and back to those soiled sheets of his? "What on earth are you talking about?"
"Oh don't play dumb you chit, who've you got stashed away in there? Potter? Weasel?" He inquired. Malfoy had always been quite the school gossip, never able to let a single juicy piece of information or rumor go without diving his nose into it. It was a disease really. "Or maybe you've finally broken free of your little ménage toi and bribed a mystery man to your bed? Why I had no idea you had that kind of money."
"I haven't got anyone 'stashed away', as you so crudely put it." She replied nastily.
Malfoy tsked at her disapprovingly. "Sneaking boys into your room, taking what many would consider a shower of 'questionable' motives, and now lying? I'm seeing whole new sides to you tonight, Granger. And I must say my world has turned completely and utterly upside down." He drawled.
Rolling her eyes she tucked the edges of the blanket under the cushions with a bit more force than was adequately needed. "I'm sure you'll discover some method of coping, one way or another."
"So who's the unlucky little sod?" He repeated curiously.
Hermione abruptly thrust herself up away from her task to glower aggravatedly at him. "Why! So you can run about the halls spreading wild rubbish about prim and perfect Granger living a secret life as a two-bit slag?"
He blinked at her, giving her that superior 'as a matter of fact' look she so wanted to smack off again. "Of course, why else would I want to know?"
"Oh go to bed you grand obnoxious prat!" She spat, trying to calm herself with a wonderful mental replay of the swat she gave that self-absorbed little face of his in third year.
"Though I would have chosen 'filthy whore' in place of 'two-bit slag', myself." He went on as if she'd never spoken. Seeing her seethe in response, he opened his mouth to add more insult to injury, preferably one about her tainted bloodline, unfortunately a reverberating smash blasted from her room, echoing off their walls with the noisy splintering of broken shards. When the ruckus died down it was quiet for a moment as her face paled of color. "Can't say I blame him, I'd probably have to throw myself out the window too after engaging in such acts with you." He remarked, idly watching her bolt up the stairs to the room in question.
Dashing into the room she forgot to close the door in her race to the bathroom. Yanking back the knob almost violently, she came in just in time to see Viktor draw his bloody fist away from the remains of her sink mirror. "Have you gone daft?" She exclaimed, before immediately jerking around and smothering her eyes with her hands when she discovered is nudity. "Would you cover yourself so I can yell at you!" She ordered. Her hand blindly prodded along the wall to her side until finding the familiar closet. Pulling it open she managed to ferrate out a towel and throw it at him from behind.
Viktor caught the cloth at the last minute, grudgingly unfolding it and tying it about his narrow waist. The last of the vanity's shattered fragments dangled precariously off the frame before finally dropping into the sink with the others. A twinge of guilt rose within him at destroying something that was hers, but it was as if his body was acting on its own these days. "I apologize." He grumbled.
Hermione whipped around relieved to find his unmentionables appropriately hidden. "You apologize?" She parroted in awe. "You apologize! Viktor what is the matter with you? You look injured, but injured people don't go around attacking others and breaking things all over the place! I won't ask you what's wrong if you don't want to tell me, but as long as you don't I'm going to have to ask you to get a hold of yourself!"
He nodded in compliance; no he had not been treating her fairly and could only imagine what he must look like right now. "I am sorry, Hermy-own-ninny. I haff not been myself lately. I haff been putting anger in places they are not belonging in."
Sighing exhaustedly she rubbed the bridge of her nose defeatedly. "Yes, yes I understand, its alright." She excused.
"Oh this is too rich."
Viktor look up as Hermione twisted her head to see Draco Malfoy standing just outside the bathroom doorway looking like a kid at Christmas. Hermione groaned and massaged her temples, not ready to deal with this on top of everything else at this hour. "I didn't say you could come in here, Malfoy." She gritted through her teeth.
"But you never said I couldn't either, now did you?" He remarked coyly.
"I made that very demand perfectly clear the first day of the year!" She howled wanting to tear her hair out at the impossible situation he was putting her in.
"Well since we're getting everything out in the open I thought I'd gotten a pass to that rule." He sneered tauntingly.
"We're not opening anything! You're snooping around like a busybody little schoolgirl!" She cried.
He casually dismissed her and turned his attention to the other man in the room. "I must say Krum, I'm sorry we had to meet again under such horrid circumstances." He started, sparing Hermione a pointed glance. "Although why you're wasting your rage on that mirror when her face is right here, I couldn't begin to fathom."
The foreign seeker frowned at the insult as the female brunt of it fumed at the pale young man. There was something familiar about him and he wracked his mind to find out what it was.
"You're not to say a single word, do you hear me?" Hermione demanded.
Malfoy looked at her like one would look at a wad gum they'd just found on the bottom of their brand new shoes. "I'll say whatever I want to whom I want when I want. Who do you think you are to tell me what to do?" He jeered.
"I think I'm the girl who would all too happily prance down to Dumbledor's office and tell him about all the 'evening friends' you've been bringing in here. I think I'm the girl who would joyfully tell who's been taking the safety charms off my razors so I can nick myself. I think I'm the girl who would jump at the chance to inform the professors who's been looking off my homework." She challenged.
Draco instantly jumped at the bait. "I'd never cheat off some filthy mudblood's homework!" He hissed in outrage.
"No but I can make that as true as the rest, you slimy braggart! Lets see what that does to your second rate grades!" She threatened.
He scoffed at her attempt to cow him down. "You wouldn't dream of lying to your darling faculty."
Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and settled him with a firm glower. "I'd think of it as repayment of justice for them overlooking so many of your own depraved slytherin stunts. Besides, who do you honestly think they'll believe?"
Clenching his teeth with the severe urge to hex her into oblivion he silently gave her this one. "If I were you, I would be sleeping with a good deal more locking charms on my door for the next few nights, Granger." He warned.
"We're at an understanding then." She confirmed in a resolved tone, stooping down to pick up the sopping mess of Viktor's clothes. "I'm going to see if I can ask Dobby to take these to the laundry." She informed stepping out of her bathroom and dorm room and moving outside.
Draco tossed her a look with a mix of loathing and repulsion as she turned the corner and out of sight.
"Do not speak to her that vay." Viktor commanded in a low and intimidating voice.
Glancing back at the taller male, Malfoy ran his eyes over him with that air of royal superiority. "Pity, such skill and talent wasted on that."
Viktor's eyes widened as he finally recognized those angular features, those stony gray eyes.
His hands gripped the wall so tightly his knuckles went a bloodless white as the other man pounded into him from behind. He clenched his lids and jaw shut, determined not to make a sound even when he felt like he was being torn apart from the inside out. Determined not to give them that one last satisfaction. He was strong, he could endure. At a particularly hard thrust one grasping hand slid up the wall, his blunt nails scraping painfully against the cobblestone.
He heard a sound amongst all the sniggering and heckles. A distasteful snort. His eyelids slid open and to the left to see an older man with long platinum hair. The blond regarded them with something that teetered between boredom and disgust reflecting in those arrogant gray orbs of his. Another spearing jab from behind and the man was gone, his eyes snapping shut to block everything out once more.
This boy, this boy in front of him must be related to that man. His son most likely, the similarities were too striking. He saw him glimpse lazily over to the forearm tied with a scrap of his shirt, his eyes sparked knowingly at the discovery, a devious smirk already twisting his pale lips.
"Quite the scrape you've got there." He lilted, eyeing the makeshift bandage. "How on earth did you get it?" He inquired almost innocently.
"You English haff a saying I am liking very much. I belieff it is 'none of your focking business.' " He bit out. "That is correct, yes?"
"Indeed." Malfoy drawled sourly.
Storming past him, Viktor didn't bother to move out of the way and let his side forcefully shove the shorter boy's shoulder.
Draco glared at him, turning around to rest against the back room wall as the foreigner seemed to be at a lost of what to do with himself now that his mudblood master let go of his leash. "Not one for beating around the bush, are you?" It wasn't really a question. "I bet that mark of yours is pretty fresh right about now, wouldn't you say?"
At that, Viktor stopped wandering aimlessly about the room, instead, standing perfectly still, his wide shoulders tensing furiously as Malfoy continued.
"I've got to admit, having a world class Quidditch player and idol of millions is definitely a boost for morale. Plus who knows how many fans it will bring in as new recruits, all wanting to grow up just like their favorite hero Krum." He leered, delighting in the reaction he was getting from the older boy. "But ah there lay the rub." He sighed with false pity. "I wonder if dear innocent Granger would want to play with you anymore once she finds out you've made friends with the monsters under the bed?"
Sadly, one of Draco's biggest faults was his penchant for the underestimation of others. Which is why he didn't see Viktor's fist swinging at his face until he was already laying sprawled on the floor with a gushing nose. Before he could retaliate or even so much as wipe the blood flowing over his upper lip, the Bulgarian was on him, thick bony fingers gripping his flaxen locks and pinning them to the floor while the other readied itself for another punch. "You vill tell Hermy-own-ninny nothing!" He gnashed heatedly.
"You muggle-loving bast-!" Malfoy raged but Viktor cut off the curse with another head snapping blow to the face.
"You say single vord to her and I vill hurt you." He threatened, his fingers digging into a patch of soft fleshy scalp.
"You seriously think you can do this and get away with it?" Draco sneered incredulously. "I'll tell my father so quick-"
"I DON'T CARE!" Viktor snarled. He could not face her. Could not face the shock and revulsion in her eyes if she ever found out. He knew he could not hide it forever, but he could damn well try. And no snobby, silver spoon sucking, daddy's boy was going to take that away.
Draco stilled, now regarding him more carefully, trying to dismiss the blood flooding into crease of his lips. It was never wise to toy with a man with nothing to loose. Especially when they had you by the throat. Anyone that didn't fear death was certainly someone to handle with a bit more caution. "Take your bloody hands off me." He hissed, now able to taste the tangy metallic flavor on his tongue.
Viktor considered him for a moment before consenting and moving off the other boy. "You vill not tell-"
"Why should I?" He mocked, standing up to idly brush invisible pieces of lint from his robes. "She's going to find out herself eventually. If I told her now of course she'd think I was lying. I'd like her to look you right in the face when she discovers the truth. That would certainly be a scene, now wouldn't it?" He jeered.
"What on earth happened now?"
Both occupants turned as Hermione walked from the doorway gaping at them, a small bundle of something white in her hands. "Are you serious! I know he's an infuriating little worm but I asked you to control yourself!" She scolded angrily. "And you, Malfoy! You're bleeding all over my carpet!"
The fair-haired boy seethed at her before stomping passed her and out of the room.
Hermione followed him to the door furiously shouting. "Don't you dare think you're not cleaning this up, you flaming ponce!" She hollered shaking her fist at his retreating back. Her only reply was his slamming door that echoed through the common room.
She mumbled a quick cleaning spell while thinking of other hexes to toss at him tomorrow. "Racist little bugger.." She grumbled. The red stains faded away and she looked up at Viktor who refused to meet her gaze, opting instead to scowl at her dresser. "For the last time, you take my bed. I'll sleep in the common room tonight and, if you like, we'll talk about this in the morning." She instructed tiredly.
Viktor shifted about uncomfortably at the idea. "Do not vant to burden you-"
"Burdening me would be not taking the bed and making me worry about you all night and forcing me to loose sleep over it." She interrupted waving him off. "I got some of these for you." She said holding out what he could now see to be a roll of bandages. "Since you're so keen on nursing yourself back to health I take it you'll want to do this on your own as well?"
He nodded silently, taking the offering with gratitude. "Thank you, Hermy-own-ninny."
"Its alright." She yawned, too exhausted to deal with any more nonsense. "You can use anything in here so long as you put it back. I'll be just out there if you need me." She explained moving towards the door. "Goodnight Viktor."
"Goodnight Hermy-own-ninny." He said watching her close the door, hearing it close with a short 'click', suddenly feeling very much alone again.
Okay so what'd you think? There really aren't enough Viktor fics out there and I always thought he was such an interesting and malleable character to play with. I've never written two on-going fics at a time before, mostly because I suck at multitasking and time management. But this will be an on going fic, unfortunately my first one 'Blinding Oedipus' will have to take first priority since I started it first so updates on this fic will be rather sporadic. Some new chaps will come sooner than others, as it were. N.E.wayz, I hope you enjoyed what I've got so far!
The Deni Pie