Business trips had become a normal part of Hermione’s routine over the years. When she’d first become an advocate for magical creatures, she honestly hadn’t expected to spend so much time away from her flat in London. However, after the war and the part that many creatures played in the victory over Voldemort, magical creatures had become more of a focus in the wizarding world. She now worked as a liaison for the Ministry as well as her regular job, which required a lot of long hours and quite a bit of travel. She loved her job, though, and generally enjoyed the opportunity to see new places, but sometimes it was nice to just be home.
It was rewarding to do her part in gaining rights for those who had often been ignored or feared, but she’d had to make some sacrifices over the last decade. There had been years of research and apprenticing as well as securing and maintaining relations with a variety of magical creatures, many of whom would only work with her due to her part in helping Harry secure their loyalty during the darkest days of the war. Her time was now divided between the office, local meetings with various representatives, and traveling to conferences or meetings as she was needed, which was quite a lot during the year.
She was nearly thirty, highly successful in her chosen career, an ‘aunt’ to four children between Ron, Neville, and Ginny and their respected spouses, an ‘aunt’ to Harry and Malfoy’s four annoying dogs that she was certain Malfoy trained to slobber all over her every time she visited, and should have been very content with life. She got to travel all over Europe and Asia and had even made a few trips to the Americas and Africa over the years. She made enough money to support herself comfortably and buy books whenever she felt the urge. She had a flat she loved, even if she rarely spent time there between working at the office and trips overseas. She had almost everything she had ever wanted, really, but she knew something was missing and had finally begun to acknowledge that everything wasn‘t perfect.
It was usually easy to deal with the fact that she was alone and her last real relationship had been a brief affair with Ron while they’d been helping Harry save the world. That had been nearly a dozen years ago, however, and her life had since been filled with work and friends. She dated occasionally, but none of them ever seemed to go beyond a first date. Most men didn’t appreciate her passion for her job or felt threatened by her success or just weren‘t interested in her in that way.
As for physical intimacy, she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d had sex, which meant it had been far too long. A couple of one night stands had left her with the knowledge that she just wasn’t the type so she took care of her own needs these days. She wished she was able to separate emotions from sex but she couldn’t. Lust only went so far and then she was back where she started so she didn’t really see the point, especially as she got older.
It would be a lie to say that she often thought about that loneliness or wished for somehow to share her life. Generally, she didn’t give it much thought one way or another. She had great friends and a job she loved. She enjoyed having quiet time to herself to read or knit. It was nice not to have to worry about making someone angry if she stayed late at work or had to rush out of town suddenly on an assignment. She honestly didn’t need a relationship to be happy and fulfilled.
That being said, there were times when she thought about it. When she was sick, she wished she had someone there to hold her. When she couldn’t sleep due to nightmares of the war that never truly went away, she wanted someone to talk to and felt the silence even more. She wanted to fall in love, to have someone to call hers, to have a family one day. She might be perfectly satisfied alone but that didn’t mean she didn’t need someone to love. She tried not to dwell on it because she believed it would happen when it was meant to happen and, if it didn’t, then she was just supposed to be alone.
However, here in this country, she was unable to stop herself from thinking about the past and her life and possibilities. Since arriving, she’d been able to think of very little else, in fact. She was ready to finish her assignment so she could return to her quiet London flat and leave Bulgaria behind. It was three weeks until her thirtieth birthday and she had to admit that she was lonely and the idea of celebrating that occasion with a long day at work or with seeing her happy friends didn‘t sound too appealing. She was happy and very content with her life though she had to acknowledge that the feeling of restlessness was getting worse as she got older.
Since she had arrived in Varna, one person had been foremost in her thoughts. He was the person who always came to mind whenever she considered possibilities and what might have been at various stages in her life. Viktor was also simply synonymous with Bulgaria in her mind, which didn‘t help her not think about him and questioning things. That the questions were no longer concise and lacked definite answers was the part that had her lost in thought and somewhat confused.
They had stayed in touch over the years, through the war and after. They wrote to each other every few months, exchanged gifts on birthdays and Christmas, and she considered him a good friend even if they rarely had the opportunity to get together in person. He was her first love, to be completely honest, and was one of the few things in her life that she occasionally wondered ‘what if‘ about. She knew she‘d not been at all ready for any kind of relationship back then, even when he‘d offered to wait until she was older and out of school. He was intense and just as passionate as she was about things, which had been scary when she was fifteen. Knowing she’d not been ready and that the time just hadn’t been right didn’t stop the occasional ‘how would things have been different‘ thought, though.
She’d been eighteen and dating Ron when they met again during the war. She’d still felt the same tension between her and Viktor, but she’d had Ron and Viktor had respected that relationship. Their paths had crossed again when she was twenty-three and single. Viktor, however, hadn’t been. He’d come to London on his honeymoon and introduced her to his very nice and pretty wife, Natalia. There had been a moment of regret on Hermione’s part, the ‘what if’ that always seemed to accompany thoughts of Viktor, but Natalia had been so lovely that she’d been unable to indulge such questions. Sadly, the next time she and Viktor met was at Natalia’s funeral three years later. She’d given him support and someone to lean on when he’d finally broken down to cry once everyone else had gone.
They’d met for dinner a few times in the years since, whenever he was in London and once when they’d both been in Athens on business. Their relationship hadn’t changed. There was still the same intense attraction, the reaction that no longer scared her because she finally understood it, but there was also a solid friendship and a history that they both seemed reluctant to risk. She thought he had been going to ask her out once or twice, on a real date that could prelude something more, but he always pulled back before anything was said.
It really hadn’t been the right time. Neither had been ready for more. He’d been mourning the loss of his wife then she’d been distracted with work then it was just something that they didn’t seem to want to try if it jeopardized their friendship. In her case, she was still rather scared of the intense reactions that he brought out in her and knew, somehow, that her life wouldn’t be the same if she finally gave in to her desire. It wouldn’t be a one night stand with someone she’d not mind never seeing again. It would be the start of something more, without a doubt, and she just hadn’t been ready for her life to change. Not then.
Now, she thought she might just be ready, but she didn’t know if Viktor wanted that or not. There had been several missed chances throughout their lives and it was a risk because they both traveled a lot and were passionate about their work. He lived in Bulgaria and she had a flat she loved in London. He was a widower who still loved his wife and might not be ready to move on yet. She hadn’t had a serious relationship since she was a teenager and wasn’t entirely sure she’d be good at commitment.
Over the last few days, they’d met often. He had canceled a scouting trip to Spain when he found out she was coming to his country and had spent every day since her arrival showing her around. They had dinner every night and there had been several times when she’d been tempted to kiss him good night. Instead, she’d brushed a kiss against his cheek, uncertain how he felt and not brave enough to make such a bold move without some sort of indication from him that he wanted this. The tension was still there, of course, and had been since she was a fifteen year-old bookworm and he was a dashing young Quidditch star. He’d seen something in her back then that no one else had noticed and she liked to think that she’d done the same with him.
They were older now, more confident and established with their lives, but the tension still seemed to reduce them to awkward teens who didn’t quite know how to handle everything happening between them. Their relationship was changing, though, and had been since they met again a few days ago. This was the longest period of time they’ve spent together since he’d been at Hogwarts, and they’d had an opportunity to talk about anything and everything.
He listened when she told him about her job, asked questions and really seemed interested in everything she did. He talked about his Quidditch team, about coaching and owning and how different that was from being a player and she didn’t find herself bored at all despite it being Quidditch. She heard about Natalia, about their marriage and the accident that had taken her away, and had, in turn, provided humorous accounts of her horrid dates over the years that had made Viktor laugh. When he’d brought her back to her hotel last night, she knew he’d almost kissed her. She’d seen the look in his dark eyes, had watched him lower his head, and had been disappointed when he’d just kissed her cheek instead.
Something definite had changed, though, and she knew, somehow, that tonight would be different. She had spent all day in boring meetings so she’d not had a lot of time to think things over. In a way, she was glad because the thoughts hadn’t stopped coming once she got back to her hotel and changed for dinner. It felt like she’d done nothing for the last few hours except analyze every little thing as if she’d somehow get an answer that would satisfy her. There were no real answers, though, only more questions that had her mind far too active.
When she heard the knock on her door, she was relieved that he was finally there. If she’d done much more thinking, she might have managed to scare herself into keeping things between them as they were instead of giving them a chance. She smoothed down the skirt of her blue dress and opened the door, smiling when she saw him.
“Good evening, Viktor,” she said as her gaze swept over him quickly.
“You look beautiful, Her-my-o-nee,” he said sincerely, only stumbling slightly with her name. He brushed a lingering kiss against her cheek and then offered her his arm. “I haff made reservation at small café nearby. Is Italian still your favorite?”
“Yes, it is. That sounds nice,” she told him. She wasn’t surprised that he remembered her favorite type of food. After all, she knew he liked seafood, had a weakness for good curry, and didn’t eat chicken because he’d had one as a pet when he was a child. She looked up at him as they left the hotel but looked away before he could notice her staring. He wasn’t a traditionally handsome man but his angular face had character and he was very striking. Not everyone would consider him attractive, but she had even at fifteen when she’d never put much thought into such things.
The walk to the café was short and passed by quickly as they talked about his day and her meeting. It was a very romantic restaurant, complete with flowers and candlelight, and the food was delicious. The meal went by far too quickly as the conversation and wine flowed. There was a definite change from their meal together the previous evening. He was touching her, casual touches of her hand or brushing her hair away from her face, and he had been looking at her most the night even as they ate. The awareness was more noticeable than it had been in years, which excited yet terrified her.
After dinner, they sat talking and drinking wine. They considered dessert but she honestly didn’t know if she could eat another bite. She was surprised when he stood and offered her his hand. “Are we leaving?” she asked curiously, reluctant to let the evening end already.
“Vill you dance vit me?” he asked as he nodded towards the small dance floor near the back where a few couples were dancing. “Ve vill haff dessert after a dance.”
She took his hand and stood up. “I’d love to,” she said as she followed him to the dance floor. It felt so natural to step into his arms, and she looked up at him as the music changed to a very familiar song that she hadn‘t heard in many, many years.
“I haff asked them to play this,” he admitted as he moved his hand to rest at the small of her back. “Ven you go to, how you say, powder nose, I sneak over and ask. They play it vell.”
“I’m surprised you remembered it,” she said as they started to waltz and she was taken back nearly fifteen years.
“I remember efferything about that night, Her-my-o-nee,” he murmured as he brushed his knuckles against her jaw. “It is night ven I fall in loff vit you so I vill neffer forget.”
“Oh,” she said softly, blinking up at him as her steps faltered. He lowered his head and brushed a gentle kiss against her lips.
“Ve vill talk later. There is much that I vant to say, that I should haff said before but I vas not certain of many things,” he said quietly. “Now, I am sure. Are you sure?”
Was she sure? That was a good question. She still had doubts and questions, was still worried about not being any good at commitment or having a relationship, and had no idea how things would work out, but this felt right. It was as if she belonged here in his arms as they slowly waltzed around a small dance floor in a crowded Italian café in Varna. She looked up at him and brushed a kiss against his lips as she entwined her fingers with his and moved closer. When she pulled back, she smiled and said sincerely, “I’m very sure.”
End
Possibilities
Story Notes:
8/13/06