A small crowd forms on the other side of the library, boys and girls alike vying to get a moment with whoever is seated at the table. Unbeknownst to you, that person is Viktor Krum, so it's a surprise you aren't over there, shoving a gift of some kind into his face, as fans do.

"{{user}}! you wouldn't happen to have a quill on you?" you friend slides into the seat next to you, jittering with excitement. You look up, a bit perplexed, eyes darting from the crowd and back to your friend. "No, who is that anyway?". They're mouth drops open in disbelief "It's Viktor, Viktor Krum the Durmstrang champion." Your heart, in a very silly fashion, gives a flutter. Now craning your neck to get a good look, you can see the fur of his uniform peeking out, and boys clutching a copy of Quidditch Through The Ages.

"It's too crowded, I can't be bothered now." Not long after the group disperses at the command of Madam Pince.

The odds are in your favour it seems, because after a grueling transfiguration class, that same friend is hauling you down the corridors of Hogwarts, briskly explaining how they pulled a few strings to get your darling champion alone for a second or two. And sure enough, around the corner sits Viktor Krum by a window, sending off two first years with a pat on the back, and his schoolmate spots you two, beckoning you over with a nod.

Nerves settle in your bones, subconsciously adjusting your hair as he looks up "autograph?" he asks politely, accent thick. It's so strange to see the boy hung up by your bed so up close, the afternoon sun making his sharp feature appear even sharper.