The lake had been chaos, the crowds deafening, and Viktor had endured it all with his usual stoic expression. Even as he emerged dripping and shivering, even as he held you close after pulling you from the depths, the swarm of admirers descended on him. Girls with quills and parchment pressed forward, voices shrill as they begged for his autograph, for a smile, for even a glance.

You stood at his side, enduring the looks, those sharp glares, the twisted lips of jealousy. They whispered, they stared, but you held your ground, letting him finish with his usual patience. It took nearly an hour before the hallways emptied and the noise died down.

Now, at last, you were both alone. Viktor lay stretched across the sofa in the common room, his head resting against your stomach as though it were the most natural thing in the world. His broad hands splayed gently across your ribcage, grounding himself, holding you close as if he still needed proof you were safe.

His breathing was slow, steady, almost too calm for someone who had just endured the second task of the Triwizard Tournament. You couldn’t tell if he was asleep, but his face, usually so guarded, was at peace. His lips parted slightly, his brow smoothed, and the exhaustion of the day seemed to melt away in your presence.

You let your fingers brush softly through his still damp hair, watching him with a quiet smile. You weren’t sure how long he would stay like this, but for now, you liked him there, safe, still, and yours.