"Her - my - oh - nee."

"Herm - own - ninny."

"Close enough," I shrugged, catching Harry's eye and grinning.

I could feel Ron's glare from all the way across the Great Hall. I'm not going to lie, my body glowed warm with smugness.

Viktor Krum wasn't really doing it for me, but pissing Ron off was.

I mean for one, Viktor and I had a bit of a communication issue. But on the bright side, this meant he didn't know what SPEW meant so happily wore a badge.

When people had finished eating and couples began to move to the dance floor, Krum took my hand and led me over to where the band were playing hauntingly beautiful music.

I couldn't help but blush as he moved his body close to mine and his hand fell lightly on my waist, whispering in my ear that I looked beautiful.

It was true, I did. Even Ron hadn't recognised me when I made my grand entrance down the marble staircase. But then maybe that was because he was sulking about his own tragic looking dress robes.

My parents did good and sent me an elegant pink number that perfectly showed off my growing womanly curves. I know this because both Ron and Harry spent the evening talking to my tits.

Viktor, on the other hand, was a complete gentleman and kept his eyes upwards at all times, even during the dance. He moved with surprising grace for his shape and size, twirling me around the room so that my dress floated prettily around me.

When I noticed that Harry's date, Parvati, was dancing with a boy from Beauxbatons, I felt a flicker of concern and sent Viktor away to get me a drink so that I could go and catch the gossip.

"It's hot, isn't it?" I said, fanning myself with my hand as I took a seat next to Harry in Parvati's empty chair. "Viktor's just gone to get some drinks."

Ron gave me a withering look. "Viktor? Hasn't he asked you to call him Vicky yet?"

"What's up with you?" I asked, knowing full well what.

"If you don't know," he said scathingly, "I'm not going to tell you."

I stared at him, then at Harry, who shrugged. "Ron, what-?"

"He's from Durmstrang!" Ron spat. "He's competing against Harry! Against Hogwarts! You - you're -" he paused, obviously casting around for words strong enough to describe my crime, "fraternising with the enemy, that's what you're doing!"

My mouth fell open. "Says the guy who has a miniature model of him up in their dormitory! Says the guy who asked out Fleur Delacour!"

I jumped up and stormed away from the hypocritical twat, but not before hearing Padma ask him if he was ever going to ask her to dance.

"No."

"Fine."

That night Viktor asked to kiss me goodnight, but I turned him down.

Because deep down I knew who I wanted to share my first kiss with, and it wasn't the Bulgarian Seeker.

*****

Viktor Krum's feelings for me may have ran deeper than I realised, for I was put in the bottom of the lake for him to rescue, meaning he valued me more than anyone else in the entire world.

This was becoming slightly awkward, especially when I regained consciousness as we resurfaced and he was looking down at me in complete adoration.

"Herm-own-ninny, you must come to home country and meet family." He said, grabbing a towel from Neville and beginning to dry my shivering body. "I haff told them all about you."

"Um- that sounds... nice." I lied, my face feeling hot with guilt. "I wonder where Harry has got to with Ron?"

Pulling out of Krum's reach, feeling irritated that he didn't think I was capable of drying myself, I looked out towards the still surface of the lake.

"Perhaps he is drowned?" Krum shrugged.

Luckily, he hadn't. It turned out he had been busy rescuing Fleur's little sister instead. For some reason, Fleur felt the need to thank Ron with a kiss despite the fact that he was unconscious for the entire ordeal.

Not that I was jealous or anything. French tart.

As a result of my dalliance with Krum, Rita Skeeter published a slut shaming article in Witch Weekly, accusing me of playing with Harry's feelings. She even interviewed Pansy who said I was really ugly and suggested that I must have used a love potion to gain Krum's attention.

Hate mail started to arrive in droves. I got sent Howlers and death threats and even a letter composed from pasted letters that seemed to have been cut out of the Daily Prophet.

You are a WickEd giRL. HaRRy PottEr desErves BetteR. gO Back wherE you cAME from mUggle.

Another letter was filled with a yellowish green liquid smelling strongly of petrol which gushed over my hands causing them to erupt in large painful yellow boils. I could hear sniggers coming from the Slytherin table as I ran out of the hall in floods of tears, cradling my hands which ended up in bandages for five painful days.

I could put up with the hate mail. I could even put up with vindictive and spiteful cows like Rita and Pansy. But what I couldn't handle was Ron's mum treating me like a Jezebel who was breaking her precious Harry's heart.

At Easter she sent everyone chocolate eggs. Harry and Ron's were the size of dragon eggs, and full of homemade toffee. Mine, however, was hollow, and smaller than a chicken's egg.

"Your mum doesn't read Witch Weekly, by any chance, does she, Ron?" I asked quietly.

"Yeah," said Ron, whose mouth was full of toffee. "Gets it for the recipes."

I looked sadly at my tiny egg, feeling it would have been less cruel to have sent me nothing at all.

When the day of the third task came around, she arrived at Hogwarts to support Harry. She greeted everyone warmly but gave me a simple stiff hello, prompting Harry to say something to her.

"Mrs Weasley, you didn't believe that rubbish Rita Skeeter wrote in Witch Weekly, did you? Because Hermione's not my girlfriend."

Molly looked suitably horrified, blushing at once. "Oh! No - of course I didn't!"

Liar.

All the same, I thanked Harry by discreetly squeezing his hand under the table.

Then he got up, went into the maze and watched our schoolmate get murdered whilst he himself was tortured on the grave of his enemy's father.

Damn.

*****

"It's okay, Harry," I said quietly as I linked my arm in his. "We're here for you."

Ron took his other arm and gave me a solemn nod over his head.

Together, we stepped forward, guiding a weak and trembling Harry into the Great Hall, where upon our entrance, everyone hushed.

As eyes followed our journey to the Gryffindor table, I began to wish we hadn't made such a dramatically late entrance.

I stole a glance at the Slytherin table where Krum was sat next to a scowling Draco Malfoy, and our eyes met. The dark, brooding Bulgarian gave a brief nod of understanding. Only the previous night I had told him that I had to put Harry first from now on and that I had no time for relationships.

With tears in his eyes, he told me I was such a selfless person and promised he'd write.

Ron and I sat Harry down at the Gryffindor table, sitting either side of him as we clutched his hands, sending death glares to anyone who so much as looked his way.

Harry said not a single thing during the entire leaving feast. Ron and I made sure he had plenty of food on his plate and talked over his hung head as he sat morosely and slowly ate up.

It wasn't until we were halfway home on the Hogwarts Express did he finally speak.

"I'm going to make them pay. I'll make them all pay."

Such a mood.

*****

DADA watch '94-'95: So, it turned out Dumbledore had hired a Death Eater after all. Oops!

Surely it can't get any worse than that?

*****