Viktor Krum

Viktor couldn’t help it. Every time he saw her, his heart skipped a beat, as if caught off guard by her presence, even though he’d been watching her for weeks. What is it about her? She wasn’t like the others. She didn’t trail after him in the hallways or hover at the edges of the Quidditch pitch with wide eyes and shy smiles. She 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. He had overheard her name once it had been spoken casually, 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.

She was out there again, flying above the Black Lake. Not on the Quidditch pitch, where distractions were aplenty, but out here where she 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 she think if she caught me just standing here like some lovesick fool? But the pull was too strong. She had something about her something that made it impossible to look away. She was talented. That much was clear. The way she moved on her broom, cutting through the air as though she and the wind were one, made even his practiced jaw drop.

The snitch glimmered in the fading sunlight, darting unpredictably, but she followed it with razor-sharp precision. He’d seen her 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 her. The set of her shoulders as she leaned into the wind, the way her body moved instinctively, as though she didn’t just ride the broom but owned it. And the determination in her eyes he could see it even from here, a fiery spark that dared anyone or anything to stand in her way.

She hasn’t even noticed me, he thought, half-relieved, half-disappointed. That was part of what made her different. She wasn’t like the others who whispered and giggled as he passed by. She 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 her 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 her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her head snap toward him. Her 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 her hate me if she 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 her. He wanted her attention, her focus, and now he had it.

The race began in earnest. She surged forward, her broom a blur as she matched him 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 he hardly noticed it anymore. All he could see was her. The way her brows knit together in concentration, the determined set of her mouth, the fire in her eyes. She was magnificent.

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

"Pull up!" he shouted, his voice rough and urgent, carried by the wind. But if she heard him, she didn’t show it. Her focus was unshakable, her 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 her.

She caught it. Her hand closed around the snitch with precision, and for a fleeting moment, triumph lit up her face. But her 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 she surfaced. She was treading water, the snitch clutched tightly in her hand, and to his astonishment, she was laughing. Rich, carefree laughter bubbled up from her, shattering the quiet like a burst of sunlight. Viktor stared down at her, 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. He ignored it entirely, his focus still on her.

Reckless. She is reckless, he 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.