The summer evening had settled over the Burrow’s orchard like a warm golden spell, the air humming with laughter, clinking glasses, and the faint smell of enchanted lantern smoke. White ribbons drifted lazily through the trees, occasionally snagging themselves on low branches, while tables overflowed with butterbeer, champagne, and Mrs. Weasley’s formidable cooking.
Viktor Krum stood somewhat apart from the crowd, looking both impressive and faintly uncomfortable in dark formal robes that did not quite suit his usual athletic severity. At twenty-one he was broader than he had been during the Triwizard Tournament, though his thick brows still gave him the same intense expression that made strangers assume he was perpetually scowling.
He was not scowling now.
“Herm-own-ninny!”
The greeting burst out of him with such enthusiasm that several nearby guests turned their heads.
Hermione blinked in surprise before breaking into a delighted smile.
“Viktor!”
Viktor grasped her hands warmly, examining her with sincere approval.
“You look very wonderful,” he declared. “Much more zan last time I saw you, which was already very—how you say—impressive.”
Hermione laughed.
Before Viktor could continue, however, a tall red-haired wizard appeared rather suddenly beside her.
“Dance?” said Ron, rather too quickly.
Hermione was swept off toward the dance floor before Viktor had quite finished opening his mouth.
He watched them go, eyebrows drawing together.
“Hmph,” he muttered.
Beside him stood a young man wearing round spectacles and a peculiar amount of hair that seemed determined to escape its current arrangement.
“Zey are together now?” Viktor asked, nodding toward the dancers.
“Sort of,” said Harry (who at the moment was disguised as someone else entirely).
Viktor sighed with a mournful heaviness.
“Every time I meet a girl who is clever and interesting, she is already taken,” he said gloomily. “You would think being international Quidditch star helps, yes? But no. All ze good ones—already gone.”
His eyes drifted across the orchard.
They settled upon Ginny, who was laughing brightly with a group of guests.
“Zat one is very pretty,” Viktor observed thoughtfully.
Harry coughed loudly.
“Er—yes. But she’s seeing someone. Big bloke. Very jealous. You wouldn’t want to cross him.”
Viktor immediately looked alarmed.
“Ah.”
He folded his arms.
“Zis is what I mean,” he said bitterly. “All ze good-looking girls—taken!”
The music swelled, lanterns flickered, and laughter filled the orchard.
Then the sky exploded.
A flash of green tore through the trees as the first spell struck the far end of the reception.
Screams erupted.
The music stopped.
“Death Eaters!” someone shouted.
Viktor’s expression changed instantly. The awkward, brooding Quidditch star vanished, replaced by the focused competitor who had once flown straight at a dragon without blinking.
His wand was already in his hand. “Protego!” he barked, sending a shield charm crackling through the air as panicked guests scattered beneath the trees. Masked figures began firing curses into the crowd.
Members of the Order of the Phoenix sprang into action, wands flashing.
Viktor moved quickly, scanning the chaos with sharp concentration.
A frightened bridesmaid stumbled near one of the hedges, ducking a curse that blasted a nearby lantern into sparks.
She looked up just as Viktor reached her.
“You are coming viz me,” he said firmly.
“But—”
“Trust me.”
Another curse scorched the grass beside them.
Viktor seized her arm.
With a loud crack, they vanished.
Moments later they reappeared in a quiet stretch of woodland far beyond the orchard. The distant flashes of spells still flickered faintly through the trees.
The young woman stared at him in stunned silence.
Viktor brushed leaves from his sleeve and looked mildly apologetic.
“I am sorry about ze sudden travel,” he said. “But ze wedding became… how you say… extremely unpleasant.”
He glanced toward the distant lights, then back at her.
After a thoughtful pause he added,
“You are also already taken, yes?”