Chapter 6: Circle

Hermione woke to the sound of a wardrobe closing. Almost immediately she reach for her wand on the nightstand, out of habit of placing it on her own nightstand.

The clattering around caused Viktor to turn, “Please do not try magic again, Herm-own-ninny. Vill only make you veaker,” Viktor spoke softly as he brightened the light in his chambers for Hermione. Immediately, Hermione took note of Viktor’s state of dress. Judging from the towel wrapped around his hips, his damp hair, and the water droplets clinging to his chest, he had just gotten out of the shower moments ago. Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat. “May I have a glass of water, Viktor,” Hermione blushed, embarrassed she was having to ask for something she could easily summon herself normally.

“Of course, Herm-own-ninny,” Viktor answered, conjuring the glass of liquid for his mate. It was only under the brightened conditions Hermione noticed the book on the nightstand table as she diverted her eyes from Viktor as he walked over to hand the glass of water to her.

“Thank you,” Hermione replied as she took a drink, sat the glass on the nightstand, and picked up the book. Viktor sat on the edge of his bed and tucked a piece of hair behind Hermione’s ear.

“I think book vill help you understand, yes,” the dark chocolate brown eyes of Viktor searched Hermione’s face. “I vill come get you vhen dinner is ready,” Viktor spoke, breaking eye contact with Hermione. “Your belongings are in vardrobe,” Viktor pointed, getting up to retrieve his own clothes to dress.

Hermione watched, completely intrigued, as Viktor walked about the room gathering his clothes. To her great displeasure she found her fingers itching to run over Viktor’s muscled back. Hermione imagined how safe she would feel wrapped in his arms. She wondered if the sound of his heartbeat could soothe away the occasional nightmare left over from the war. The logical part of her mind told her to snap out of it. She was not Viktor Krum’s mate. She was not a piece of property. Hermione’s mind kept running in circles, tiring itself out. Apparently though, she had been caught watching Viktor. His eyes turned black and he stalked over to the bed, Hermione noted as she scrambled to get untangled from the covers. Viktor put her in the mind of a hungry panther and she was his upcoming meal. By the good grace of Merlin, Hermione managed to free herself from the bed and quickly bolted to the door, only to have it lock before she could turn the knob to open it. Hermione turned around quickly as her nostrils became filled with a smell she could only describe as pure masculinity.

                “Vere you going somewhere, Mate,” Viktor’s voice teased her ears, low and more rugged sounding than his normal baritone voice.

                “Viktor,” Hermione whispered,  tears slowly starting to fall from her eyes, “stop,” she instructed pushing against his chest as he had gotten uncomfortably close to her.

                “It can not be stopped,” he spoke, looking into her face, watching the tears fall from her eyes.  “You vill find out my perfect little mate. Vas it not you vho vas looking,” the veela smirked. “Is vhat belongs to you,” he reach out and placed Hermione’s hand on his face, “vill always belong to you, Mate. I vill always be yours and yours alone.”

                Hermione had half the mind to slap the veela as he closed his eyes, clearly enjoying the physical contact with his mate. The more the idea to slap Viktor came to her mind, the more repulsed she was by the thought of leaving a mark on his handsome face. Hermione studied his face while his eyes remained closed. Viktor took a step forward, pressing his body against hers and placing her backside firmly against the door. The veela moved Hermione’s hair aside and to her own surprise Hermione felt herself turning her head and exposing her neck to Viktor. Gentle kisses were placed on her exposed flesh. Goosebumps broke across Hermione’s flesh. The veela’s breath was cold as ice.

                “Viktor,” Hermione protested as the veela pulled away from her. Her skin prickled and burned without his touch. She wrapped her arms around his back in attempt to hold him closer to her, to alleviate some of the discomfort she was feeling.

                “Yes, my mate,” he spoke.

                “What’s happening to me,” Hermione questioned as she hugged Viktor’s chest with all of her might, feeling like she couldn’t get close enough to him.

                “Your body,” the veela smelled the air, “is preparing.  Our mating has started.”

                Hermione sighed contently, her mind had stopped working. The only thing in her mind was getting as close to the Bulgarian man in front of her as possible… in whatever way possible.

                Viktor pulled Hermione away from the door and guided her back to the bed. Viktor ran his hands over the silk nightgown his mate was wearing. Hermione blushed furiously under the veela’s gaze as he observed her body. “Everything about you is perfect,” the veela offered as his lips kissed Hermione’s shoulders. Viktor made his way up the juncture of Hermione’s neck and shoulder and licked the patch of skin there. “I vill mark you here, Mate. The vorld vill see vho you belong to,” the veela whispered into her ear.

                Hermione closed her eyes and waited, her breath ragged. She felt the weight on the bed shift and heard Viktor cross the room swiftly.

                “Viktor,” Hermione opened her eyes wide and searched the room for her veela. “What did I do wrong,” she questioned crying. Hermione’s heart felt like it was being ripped into and her soul swam in rejection.

                Hermione found Viktor sitting in the far corner of the room with his head in his hands. “You did nothing, Herm-own-ninny,” Viktor spoke. Hermione’s mind felt like a mysterious fog had been cleared away at the softer sound of Viktor’s voice. “It vas my veela side,” he began, his eyes turning back to their dark chocolate brown. “I vill not let him mark you,” Viktor choked, “not vith tricks.”

                Hermione sat down next to Viktor. “It was the pheromones,” she began, “they were what was making me feel that way.” Viktor shook his head. “But why did you stop? It has to be done if I am ever going to get my magic back,” she reasoned.

                “You deserve more than me, Herm-own-ninny. You deserve man vho loff you.”

                Hermione shook her head in disgust. Wasn’t she the one who was being forced to give up her life for some possessive creature? Why did Viktor get to have a pity party for himself? Hermione’s lips became a tight line, “Viktor Dimitrov Krum,” she began, “I know I deserve a man who loves me and you deserve a woman who loves you, but unfortunately neither one of us can have that right now. So I suggest in the mean time we make the best we can out of what we have. I want my magic back and if shagging you is the only way to do that, then so be it. I will not go without the use of my wand for weeks and months because you want us to fall in love before this whole mating thing happens,” Hermione stood up. “Now get over your pity party,” she demanded, “and stand up and kiss me right and proper so that I can get my magic back.”

                Viktor stood, towering over the witch in front of him, “You deserve better,” Viktor spoke quietly looking down at Hermione.

                “I want my magic back, we can deal with better latter.”

Chapter 7: Ribbon