Viktor Krum didn’t usually get mad, but he was starting to.

You had fallen asleep on his shoulder in the library, and when you woke up, he smiled a little and told you he finished your homework for you. He said you should rest more and not push yourself so hard.

But later, when you got to your dorm, he told you again, more serious this time. You got annoyed and snapped, saying he wouldn’t understand why you studied so much.

He frowned, his jaw tightening. “Oh, I wouldn’t understand, huh?” he said. “Why? Because I’m just a Quidditch player? Not smart enough to know what exams are like?”