I Love Your Existence

Viktor Krum / Harry Potter

Summary: He didn't expect anything of the tournament, except perhaps a Durmstrang student winning it. He most definitely didn't expect to meet harry Potter, or to fall in love with him.

Disclaimer: Not mine, just the plot bunny.


Author's Note: Once again, we are inspired by Alex Goot. The title is a song by him, you can still find him on Youtube. The song is mushy as hell, as you can imagine from the title, so be warned of the fluffy-ness. I also changed up Viktor's back story, and I'll tell you the differences in each chapter. For this one, I'm killing off his parents. Oopsies.

Also, this chapter's just kind of the set up of the story, rather than the story itself. Boring yes, but necessary for the desired effect.


Viktor didn't have any expectations about anything. When he was younger, about five or six, he expected the world of everything. He expected to get what he wanted, when he wanted. And for the most part, he had no reason to complain, because he got what he wanted, when he wanted it. However, when he was nine, everything changed.

His parents, Lila and Anton Krum, were fierce supporters of the Bulgarian Ministry. They were assistants to the Minister, who was Viktor's godfather. They were supportive of the Bulgarian nationalists, people who believed in growing the strength of Bulgaria after Voldemort's terrorist threat. But when renegades from the Bulgarian Internationalists, people who believed that the world should be ruled by Bulgaria no matter how many lives it cost, took over the Ministry, killing everyone in high-ranking positions, Viktor found himself without any parental figures.

He was shipped to the Bulgarian Boys Orphanage, a horrible place where the newly situated Minister sent all children of the people he didn't like, whether the parents were alive or not. It was run by sick old men who loved nothing better to torture and rape.

There were 120 orphans. The ages of the orphans ranged from just a few months to fourteen. Viktor was one of twenty boys that was over the age of eight, and along with these twenty boys, unconsciously took the role of protector, doing his best to shield the youngers from the 'caretakers'.

While a civil war ravaged the rest of Bulgaria, Viktor and his fellow orphans fought against the demented men who were assigned to 'take care' of them. Many sustained injuries, physical and mental, but fought on for one another.

Although the entire orphanage contained magical beings, only the caretakers were allowed to use magic. The boys were punished heavily if caught using magic. The boys were required to clean their clothes, make food, and heal without magic.

The orphanage itself was a dilapidated mess. From the dirt road it looked long abandoned, the grey brick building was slowly deteriorating. The roof was leaky and the floorboards creaked under their feet ominously. The main entranceway was cluttered with dust and not much else, creaking stairs leading upstairs and down.

The men who ran the orphanage lived luxuriously in the basement. They had nice plush four poster beds that were clean. They had beautiful mahogany desks and shaggy Victorian rugs. Their bathrooms were outfitted with the latest in bathtubs, toilets and sinks. They had their own kitchen, complete with new appliances. These men had it made.

Upstairs there were ten small rooms, stuffed with as many as twelve tiny uncomfortable beds in each, with no windows. There was one bathroom, with one shower, sink and toilet, all very old and only working half the time, to share between the entire floor. There were no toys or desks. The floor was splintered plywood that gave the boys slivers every time they stepped on it without shoes. There was one room at the end of the hall that held dressers full of uniforms for the boys, enough for two each. The room also held a poorly supplied kitchen, with a half-broken stove, a medium sized fridge, a few large pots, many metal dishes, multiple spoons and forks, and a meager amount of food. Mostly there were just beans, oatmeal and rice, though occasionally they got some sausage. There was not enough food for more then three mouthfuls per meal per person.

The twenty older boys banded together and took charge of the entire orphanage. There were two older boys to a room, and they took up the beds closest to the door to act as guards. There were four children under the age of two in each room, and were situated closest to the back wall, so that none of the older boys would be overwhelmed with having to take care of multiple babies. The other six boys in the room ranged from three to eight and took up the middle beds in the rooms.

Everyday had a schedule. The older boys would wake up first and take care of the babies. One of the older boys, whoever's turn it was, would then go and make breakfast, which usually was oatmeal, then would spoon out equal servings for all. He would also make formula up for the babies. The remaining older boys would get the younger ones up and dressed for the day. Breakfast would be eaten, then two of the older boys would go to the basement to cook for the caretakers, as well as to clean and entertain until past dinner time. This was one of the more important jobs, keeping the caretakers distracted without putting themselves into a compromising position that could get them injured. Those two boys would also trade turns returning upstairs to cook lunch and dinner.

The remaining older boys would divide and conquer; half would herd the babies into one room and take care of them, and the other half would teach the middle children. One would herd the three and four year olds into one room to teach them how to get along with one another. One would take the five and six years olds to a room to teach them how to read and write. Two would take the seven and eight years olds to yet another room to teach them magic through stolen schoolbooks. As none of the children had wands, they mostly just taught theory and spells names, but they did their best to practice wand movements with utensils.

Once the two older boys were allowed to return upstairs, they started on cleaning yesterday's clothes and today's dishes, as well as getting the children to wash themselves. Once everyone and everything was clean, all the boys huddled up into one of the rooms and took turns telling something about themselves. Whether it was their middle name, their old pet's name or their greatest dream, everyone had to say something everyday. This was started because every boy old enough to realize the situation they were in had the same fear; being forgotten. So they spoke to one another and made sure that should they disappear, someone would remember and care. They then separate into their separate rooms after saying goodnight and went to sleep, only to wake up the next morning to repeat it all again.

These were the dark times in Viktor's life, but they were times that formed who he was. The orphanage was the reason why he stopped being a spoiled brat and took responsibility. The orphanage was why Viktor no longer expected anything; he didn't find the point, because he knew he would be disappointed.

Though the civil war ended when he was thirteen, the Bulgarian Nationalists winning, just five years after it started, it left an impact on Viktor. All the orphans left either went back to their families or were adopted by loving families. Viktor himself was adopted by Markus and Louisa Koulev,a loving couple who lived in Sofia, and they doted on his every whim. He got a wand and a broom and was allowed to go to Durmstrang, where he was looked up to and worshipped like a king. None of that mattered to Viktor, because he stopped caring long ago. He had lost his faith in people, in wizards, and didn't expect anything to restore his faith.

So, on his way to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Scotland, Viktor didn't expect anything to change in his life. There was a slight inkling of hope that a Durmstrang student would win, but he ignored it steadfastly. Caring about something wouldn't do Viktor any good. Caring would lead to disappointment.

So as Viktor entered the Great Hall, flanked by his brothers, and was admired by many girls and boys, he didn't care. He didn't care as he sat down with the Slytherins, didn't care as glorious food appeared on the table, didn't care about the whispers that floated around. Viktor didn't care about anything as he looked up and studied the people in the hall.

He was disinterested entirely, until his muddy brown eyes landed on green ones. Until those green eyes widened and darted to look back at the table. Until those pale cheeks flushed so prettily and teeth bit that pouty bottom lip.

Viktor didn't care for anything, until he saw Harry Potter, sitting at the Gryffindor table, trying to avoid his steady stare.

Viktor didn't expect anything when he came to Hogwarts, and he especially didn't expect to fall in love with the Boy-Who-Lived.