Words by inell

Words

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Writing it had been enough. After finishing, Hermione should have just destroyed it. She certainly shouldn't have allowed herself to get busy and distracted enough that she'd accidentally sent it. By the time she had realized that the letter had mixed up with her other post, though, it was too late. It was on its way to Bulgaria, where Viktor would get it, read it, and likely never write her again.

What had she been thinking? It was such a stupid mistake that she couldn't just move on and forget about it. She'd like to blame a stressful few months at work or Ron's new relationship with Parvati Patil or the miserable she'd had when she'd reached for parchment and told Viktor things she had promised never to tell him. It was just an old schoolgirl infatuation, after all. She was twenty-six now, too old for crushes on fascinating foreign Quidditch stars, and too old to complicate a friendship that had been one of the few constants in her life.

Through war and a failed relationship and work, Viktor had been her friend. They'd written letters for over a decade now, and she'd even been invited to his wedding six years ago. Of course, she'd also been invited to his divorce celebration two years after, but she hadn't minded not being able to attend that particular festivity. Based on the headache that Viktor claimed he'd had for days after, she was lucky to have missed it. Their lives were led in different countries, in different circles, but he meant too much to her to risk saying what she'd poured out into that letter.

It had been a week, so she knew he'd received it and would have had time to reply by now. She had considered sending a follow-up claiming it had been a prank, but she couldn't lie about it. Harry sensed that something was wrong, not that she was about to talk to him about it. He'd probably tell her she that it was pointless to worry about something out of her control, which would make her hex him and ruin her other solid friendship. So, she threw herself into work and tried not to watch the calendar or think about how a simple letter could ruin her relationship with Viktor.

Unfortunately, it wasn't that easy to move on and forget. Not even long hours at the office could help, and work usually took her mind off just about anything. When she arrived home a week after the bloody letter had been sent, she took off her shoes, took off her robes, and went into the kitchen. It was nearly eleven, which was just too late to make anything more than a sandwich. She got what she needed and made food before she tidied the kitchen. It was pathetic how accustomed she was to this routine lately, and she wondered how long it might last. It was similar to the one established after she and Ron broke up, and that one had lasted nearly six months.

She took her plate and juice into the sitting room and sat on the sofa. After she made herself comfortable, she took a bite and opened one of her files. She hadn't read a paragraph before she heard a knock on the door. A glance at the clock confirmed that it was too late for company, and Harry would just Floo or Apparate. She put her file and plate down and gripped her wand as she went to check the door. Once she looked outside, she blinked and felt like someone had kicked her in the belly.

When she opened the door, she looked out and blinked at him. "What did you buy yourself for your twenty-first birthday?"

Viktor frowned and ran a hand through his hair, which was thicker and longer than the last time she'd seen it. "Vot? Hermyonee, I haff come to speak vith you, not to answer question." He made a face. "I bought self book of poetry, that make you laugh vhen I tell you."

"Viktor, what are you doing here?" she asked, lowering her wand and motioning for him to enter. "Please, come in. It's late."

"I haff been vaiting for you to get home," he told her, stepping inside before he turned towards her. "You vork too late. It is not healthy."

"Would you like tea?" she asked, ignoring his scolding as she tried to figure out if she'd fallen asleep on the sofa or if he was really here in her sitting room getting after her for working too late.

"No, I do not vant tea. I vant for you to listen vith no inter---interruptions. Is that vord?"

"Yes, it's the word. But, really, it's late and why are you here in England and what---"

He cursed suddenly, speaking in Bulgarian but in a tone that told her it was definitely not a proper word. "You vill not listen. I vant to talk about letter. This letter."

She looked at the letter he held up and swallowed, licking suddenly dry lips as she fussed with the hem of her shirt. "I didn't mean to send that."

"It vas a mistake?" His shoulders slumped and he sighed. "You do not vant things in letter?"

"No. Yes. I mean. It's complicated," she stammered, sitting down so she'd stop fidgeting. "I do, but I know it's impossible."

"Hermyonee, vhat does vord mean, impossible?" Viktor asked as he sat down on the sofa beside her, too close for her to think clearly. "I do not think that you are using right vord."

"I'm not?" She looked up at him and asked, "What's the right word, then?"

"I do not come here to answer letter myself instead of sending reply because is impossible," he told her, smiling slightly as a lock of hair brushed against his eyes. "I haff come to see you because I vant same things, but am simple man and cannot say vords the right vay."

"You're anything but simple, Viktor."

"You are to feel pity for me, Hermyonee, and tell me I do not need vords for those things so that I can kiss you," he informed her in a teasing tone that she missed more than she realized.

"You, uh, could always kiss me even if you're not simple," she said, looking at his lips as he moved closer.

"Ve must talk about letter and vords I haff not said."

"We will." She sighed softly as his lips brushed against her cheek. "We'll talk later." He kissed her chin and then her nose as he moved his hand to lightly grip the back of her neck. "We'll use lots of words," she promised before she kissed him. Much later.

End