Viktor Krum

Viktor couldn’t help it. Every time he saw him, his heart skipped a beat, as if caught off guard by his presence, even though he’d been watching him for weeks. What is it about him? He wasn’t like the others. He didn’t trail after Viktor in the hallways or hover at the edges of the Quidditch pitch with wide eyes and shy smiles. He hadn’t once approached him, not in the library where he tried to stay hidden or even at meals when others blatantly vied for his attention. Viktor had overheard his name once, spoken casually as part of a conversation he wasn’t supposed to hear, but since then, it had been carved into his marrow. He couldn’t forget it if he tried. Not that he wanted to.

He was out there again, flying above the Black Lake. Not on the Quidditch pitch, where distractions were aplenty, but out here where he was alone, focused, determined. Viktor stood hidden near the shoreline, leaning against a tree, his broomstick in hand. He shouldn’t be here, he knew that. What would he think if he caught me just standing here like some lovesick fool? But the pull was too strong. He had something about him something that made it impossible to look away. He was talented. That much was clear. The way he moved on his broom, cutting through the air as though he and the wind were one, made even Viktor’s practiced jaw drop.

The snitch glimmered in the fading sunlight, darting unpredictably, but he followed it with razor-sharp precision. Viktor had seen him catch it four times already this evening, each time quicker than the last. He tried to keep his focus on the snitch, but his eyes kept drifting back to him. The set of his shoulders as he leaned into the wind, the way his body moved instinctively, as though he didn’t just ride the broom but owned it. And the determination in his eyes he could see it even from here, a fiery spark that dared anyone or anything to stand in his way.

He hasn’t even noticed me, Viktor thought, half-relieved, half-disappointed. That was part of what made him different. He wasn’t like the others who whispered and giggled as Viktor passed by. He hadn’t batted an eye in his direction, hadn’t given him a single ounce of attention. And yet, Viktor couldn’t stop himself from giving him all of his.

Tonight, though tonight felt different. He wasn’t content to stand on the sidelines anymore. His fingers tightened around the handle of his broom. Before he could think better of it, he was striding forward, mounting his broom, and kicking off the ground. The rush of wind against his face was exhilarating, but it was nothing compared to the jolt of adrenaline that shot through him as he flew past him. Out of the corner of his eye, Viktor saw his head snap toward him. His eyes narrowed, a clear challenge flashing in their depths. How dare you? they seemed to say.

A slow, rare smile tugged at Viktor’s lips. Good. Let him hate me if he wants. He leaned forward, chasing after the snitch now, his muscles coiling with anticipation. It wasn’t about the snitch, though not really. It was about him. Viktor wanted his attention, his focus, and now he had it.

The race began in earnest. He surged forward, his broom a blur as he matched Viktor move for move. Viktor’s heart thundered in his chest as they darted through the air, weaving around one another, neither giving an inch. The snitch glinted ahead, teasing them with its erratic flight, but Viktor hardly noticed it anymore. All he could see was him. The way his brows knit together in concentration, the determined set of his mouth, the fire in his eyes. He was magnificent.

Then the snitch dove. Straight down, toward the surface of the lake. Without hesitation, he followed. Viktor’s breath caught in his throat as he plummeted, his form cutting through the air like an arrow. He’s not pulling up. His grip on his broom tightened. The snitch was forgotten now, replaced by a growing knot of fear in Viktor’s chest. He needs to pull up.

"Pull up!" Viktor shouted, his voice rough and urgent, carried by the wind. But if he heard him, he didn’t show it. His focus was unshakable, his eyes locked on the snitch. Viktor cursed under his breath, yanking his broom upward just before he reached the water’s surface. He hovered there, breathless, heart hammering, as he watched him.

He caught it. His hand closed around the snitch with precision, and for a fleeting moment, triumph lit up his face. But his broom didn’t stop. It kept diving, cutting through the air like a knife until it plunged into the lake with a splash. Viktor’s stomach lurched. No. No, no, no.

And then he surfaced. He was treading water, the snitch clutched tightly in his hand, and to Viktor’s astonishment, he was laughing. Rich, carefree laughter bubbled up from him, shattering the quiet like a burst of sunlight. Viktor stared down at him, completely and utterly transfixed. He’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

A voice called to him from the distance someone from Durmstrang, looking for him, no doubt. Viktor ignored it entirely, his focus still on him.

Reckless. He is reckless, Viktor thought, but the thought was laced with admiration, not disapproval. "You’re wet now." Merlin, Krum, ‘You’re wet now,’ way to point out the obvious.