CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

"THE GIRLS BATHROOM," ZUBAIR Dimitrova affirmed, a brow raised as he whistled lowly.

The shards of sunlight poured into the marble room from the tall and intricately designed glass windows in the small main hall, illuminating the very ancient roman reminiscent circular architecture of the cream washing station—adorned with taps and basins—that stood grand right in the middle. The design of it was bulbous, and the stone of it was visible darkening at some edges, though the structure seemed entirely concrete and determined to withstand whatever amount of time it was put to the challenge to.

"Yeah," Harry Potter shifted on his feet awkwardly, a hand scratching his head briefly as he fixed his eye glasses in place.

Despite Agilbert Fontaine's insistence of our assignment remaining a secret, the information had, under recent circumstances, seemed prudent to reveal to Harry Potter, and I had done just that. With strict instruction to keep the business from his friends and the two nosy Weasley twins, Potter had readily agreed to oblige aid in our search. 

A few hours later we had found ourselves discreetly led by the boy into the girls bathroom, as we now stood facing the intriguing roman-esque sink structure which Potter claimed to be the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. The hiding place of the Resurrection stone as per Aurelius Dumbledore's information.

"Do you think Dumbledore knows the stone is in there?" I asked, the question brimming inside me. If the deathly hallows were really all at Hogwarts, then why was the school headmaster not aware of their hiding places? Why had he let Fontaine assign us to the task? Could he not find them by himself if he tried?

"I don't know," Harry shrugged. "I have never heard him speak of the stone. Or any of the hallows, really."

"But there's only one way to find out, isn't there?" Viktor Krum spoke, his voice thick as firm eyes exchanged a glance with Harry and then with me.

"I suppose so." The boy muttered, uncertainty clear in his voice. He seemed skeptical, and anxious, and I couldn't place if it was the mention of the hallows that made him so or the Chamber of Secrets itself.

"Why can't that place be left alone for once?" The whiny voice of the bathroom ghost girl returned, her pale translucent sheer hands clasping the door of one of the bathroom stalls in the distance, eyes peering from aside to look at us.

She had shrieked when we had entered the bathroom and promptly disappeared into a stall, wailing a curse word. I had quickly decided that her reaction had much to do with Gabriel Chevrolet's form striding in first, holding himself as though he had owned the place. The dead Hogwarts girl had been reclining by the sink, humming a song and attempting to float an intricate origami boat on the puddle of water at the feet of a sink. The sight of a Beauxbatons boy marching in with a party at his back was probably not a usual sight.

"Beats me," Harry Potter turned to glance at the girl briefly, an unreadable expression on his face.

"The last time you opened it," I started slowly, "You met Tom Riddle."

The boy made a sound that sounded close to a scoff but not quite. He met my eyes.

"I thought he was someone else, until he revealed his name to me," Potter turned his gaze back to the sink. "But I went in for Ginny. I don't care about anything else that happened."

His tone was conclusive, and I realized that was where his anxiety was stemming from. It was coming from the prospect of going back to something dark. Harry Potter had told us briefly about what had occurred in the chamber below the girls bathroom when I had approached him with the request that he open it up for us. Aurelius had mentioned that the boy had opened it once before.

Harry told us that he had killed the Basilisk lurking inside, and had destroyed Voldemort's form as Tom Riddle, ceasing his control over Ginny Weasley. That was the second time the chamber had been opened, the first had entailed the death of a mudblood by the Basilisk. Potter had left out all other details as though they were excruciating pieces of glass shards that he was trying to dodge under bare feet—or perhaps he wasn't clear on them himself. But his account had cleared one thing for me. Voldemort had returned long before the world even suspected him to have, and Harry Potter had known that fact.

"How romantic," Yordanka Hristova's voice trailed, a blunt sarcasm in her tone as the fourteen year old boy's facial skin pitched red at some points, tips of his exposed ears scarlet.

"Are we doing this or what?" Gabriel burst in, Yordanka's tone bringing rationality seeping back into the marble encrusted room.

Elias Dupont exhaled, his presence no different than that of marble roman statues occupying a place as he narrowed his eyes on both Gabriel and Yordanka, before he turned to look at me. "So insensitive."

Oliver Wood nodded, having remained quiet the entire time, nodded carefully at Elias' sentiment, casting a judging glance of his own in Yordanka and Gabriel's directions.

"We really should get this over with," Bridgette spoke up next. "You guys are forgetting, we're making up the little number of students present in the castle and our disappearance will be noted."

"Which is why only Dominique and I are going inside," Viktor stepped up, his firm eyes darting to me before he fixed them on everyone else. "You all may also recall that we both are in charge of this assignment. So if I tell you all to stay out of this one, that is what you'll do."

"What—" Gabriel blurted out, features contorting in anger before Elias cut his speech through.

"Viktor," Yordanka Hristova turned her sharp eyes on The Durmstrang, approaching him with furrowed brows. "I am coming."

"Are you serious?" It was Zubair Dimitrova's turn to protest next. "After Potter's story, I'm near dying to see what it's like inside."

"I'd like to disagree too, but you appear to be rational, Viktor Krum," Elias Dupont spoke after most everyone had had their turn, hands crossed at his chest, eyes calculating. "We can't all disappear down the chamber at once. Some of us will be needed to cover those gone, and I choose to sit this one out. As per your orders."

Ever obedient of the higher authorities, I doubted Dupont's agreement of Viktor's claim had stemmed from it being his claim rather than Fontaine's.

"And it's not a party inside you know," Oliver Wood glanced at Zubair, Yordanka and Gabriel, his eyes sizing them up as he let a disgusted expression mar his face. "The Chamber of Secrets is a dark place. It reeks of death, misery and the cruel machinations of Salazar Slytherin."

"Perhaps you should all just let it be, and not go inside," The ghost girl's wet voice floated into our senses next, and I looked to find her translucent form slowly venturing close, yet still a cautious distance away from all of us.

"Myrtle died when the Chamber of Secrets was first opened in 1943, the Basilisk killed her."

She was the unfortunate mudblood. Harry Potter's words from earlier came floating back in my head, and I thought of how it felt like to just die without having seen it coming and then be stuck to someplace like a forgotten perfume mist clinging to an old discarded dress.

I looked away from her, my eyes fixed on the fourteen year old Hogwarts boy that seemed to hold the apparition of a key for every dark hole I found myself tripping in.

"Open it, Harry."

The boy met my eyes, and swallowed thickly, before giving me a single nod and facing the bulbous cream architecture of the washing station with its slow dripping faucets. I was aware that the instructions of Viktor Krum's order had not yet been accepted amongst our party, and I realized I didn't quite care. My only concern at present was what lay beneath this bathroom. My only concern was getting my hands on that stone, and finding out what was possibly so fetching about it that both Fontaine and Dumbledore needed assistance.

Or did they only need flesh to spare? Could the chamber beneath really be the dormant that Aurelius had claimed it would be?

Before I could register it, Harry started speaking the Parseltongue he had mentioned would be required to open the chamber, and despite having known what was coming, I found my resolve slightly wavering at the sound of the words.

Suddenly, the cream washing station started pulling itself apart like carefully fitted pieces of a structure distancing themselves from each other. A finished puzzle being reversed. Gasps sounded across the bathroom as I took several steps back like everyone else. The separated sinks stopped, leaving a large enough darkened opening in the middle, before they slowly started sinking into the ground until they disappeared from sight leaving nothing but a gaping dark hole cascaded in blackness—its depth undecipherable.

I waited for more movement, but there was none, so I took a few steps ahead, enough for me to attempt to peer down the large gaping hole at a safe distance.

Most of everyone else followed suit, with Harry Potter unmoving from the farthest spot he watched. His expression was resolute, determined as he was to maintain his distance and have nothing to do with the chamber anymore. I imagined him then, as the hero he had so clearly disregarded himself to be, saving a young girl from the clutches of murder that the ghost floating in the Hogwarts girls bathroom had succumbed to.

Maybe Harry Potter was not just a fourteen year old boy who had—just by luck and fate alone—dodged a dark wizard's killing curse. Maybe he was more than just that.

"Mon dieu," Bridgette broke the silence, her voice slightly shaky. "C'est trop effrayant. I'm gladly staying out of this."

Zubair cast her a glance, to which she shook her head and threw her hands up in defeat, backing away and joining Elias, who said something to her—about Dimitrova likely—and rolled his eyes.

"Me too," Oliver Wood's affirmation came in next, as he nodded his head once in determination and walked back to join Elias and Bridgette.

"I changed my mind," Gabriel Chevrolet was quick to utter next. His facial expression displaying his disgust rather than fear. "If I don't come out of this thing alive, it would be a fucking stupid way to die and I'm not signing up for it. Fontaine can go to hell—that fucker roped us in for his dirty work."

"Alright then," Yordanka puffed out her chest, holding her ground. "Harry Potter is not going, ghost girl is not even being considered, the Hogwarts guy is out and three Beauxbatons are out."

The almond skinned Durmstrang girl met my eyes with fierce determination. "Which leaves you, me, Zubair and Viktor."

"Still too many," Viktor stepped in, his eyes fixed on Yordanka. "You and Zubair need to sit out."

"Why?" She let out, meeting Krum's eyes, before briefly breaking away to shoot a glare at me. "Why not make her and Zubair sit out?"

"I'm not sitting out of anything," Zubair pounced in, a scoff lining his voice as he looked at me, the determination in his eyes clear.

"Zubair," Krum started, jaw tight, but I interrupted swiftly.

"Viktor it's fine," I pressed, "We don't know what it's going to be like down there. Four can get the job done faster."

"And we have enough cover for the meanwhile."

Viktor exhaled through his nose, an attempt to leash in his fury as he met my eyes and muttered a simple, 'fine.'

"Alright, let's do this," Zubair cracked his neck, much to Krum's irritation, as we positioned ourselves along the edge of the gaping dark hole.

Zubair took Viktor's side opposite, and I found Yordanka venture close to mine.

A tamed gush of cold seemed to be emanating from out of the hole, and I hoped it was because of an opening to the world outside instead of just pent up air frozen since the last time Tom Riddle opened the chamber and Harry Potter followed in. No sound could be heard, not even a faint movement to hint at the presence of insects or a trapped animal.

I looked back to glance at Harry Potter.

"Do we come out of our own accord, or is there another way?"

The boy blinked as though I had caught him head first in a reverie. "Um, no there's no other way."

I sighed, turning away from him.

"How far down do you think this is?" Viktor called, addressing the boy as well.

"I don't know, I guess about fifty feet or so."

"Just great," Krum met my eyes. "We jump then."

"Jump?" I let out, ready to dismiss the idea, for there were a lot of other better options—conjuring up a ladder, for one.

Viktor took out his wand from the back of his Durmstrang uniform and muttered a spell, before tucking the wand back in its place.

"It'll be a soft landing, don't worry."

"Are you sure?" Yordanka chimed in from beside me, pretentiously addressing Viktor, "We wouldn't want the princess here to be uncomfortable on a pea."

I exhaled, biting back the urge to say something as I was efficiently distracted by the entrance to the chamber staring at me.

"You guys, cover us," I called to the benchers who had preferred to sit out. "If anyone asks, we're indisposed." 

"Yeah," Zubair Dimitrova swallowed, eyes fixed in the darkness at our feet. "Indisposed."

"Alright," Viktor uttered. "On the count of three."

"One," He began, "Two."

"Three."

We all jumped. My surroundings plunged into darkness as the cold air welcomed my body as my form tore through it, accelerating towards the darkness beneath. I had the sudden urge to scream, the instinct of a falling person to thrash around, but I clamped my mouth shut and closed my eyes, waiting for the fall to end. The three Durmstrangs made no sound either, and a part of me was suddenly conscious of that fact.

The soft landing Viktor Krum had talked about was a condensed form of warm white air he had clustered at the base of the tunnel-like entrance we had been falling through. The difference in the density of air caught my hurtling form softly and held me mid air a feet off the ground littered with scattered rotted out hollow bones. It felt like being held by a cloud, except the longer I waited to catch my breath before stepping off on my feet, the warmer I was getting.

My feet touched the broken bones, some of them turning to dust under the force of my body. As Viktor Krum and the other two Durmstrangs regained their own footings, the sound in the darkness became limited to crunching and rattling bones underneath feet.

I looked up to find that the hole that had seemed so large and dark had shrunk to the size of my thumb, and was the only source of faint light in this darkness we were shrouded in. If Bridgette or Elias were peeking in, I couldn't make their forms out.

Bending to pluck out my wand from my knee high socks, I muttered a soft Lumos and the tip of my wand lighted up effectively, calming my erratic heart down as the darkness dispersed away slowly in my vantage point. Viktor, Zubair and Yordanka followed suit as we stepped forwards, making our way past the bones that lay like grass at our feet with our lit wands held up front.

"These are too many bones for a single mudblood," Yordanka broke the silence, her features contorted into slight disgust as she picked her way behind me.

"They are not human bones," I let out, my eyes fixed ahead as I kept my pace, letting the path ahead lead us all. "If you had studied anatomy at Durmstrang you would know that."

I felt an irritation course through me at her use of the word 'mudblood'. Perhaps she assumed it was an acceptable term in the Hogwarts dictionary. I too didn't know exactly what it meant, but it was an insult to someone's blood—at least I could gather that from my knowledge of the language. In France we had a variety of words younger years at Beauxbatons were habitual of using in acts of bullying, and no amount of reprimands could ever erase those words away from tongues, ears or memories.

"Wow," The witch mused, arrogance in her tone. "Someone sure does think they're smart."

I scoffed. "Think? I believe so." 

"Yordanka," Viktor Krum's voice was loud as it echoed. "Stop it."

He caught up to my side, Zubair Dimitrova right next to him.

"Why should I?" She hissed, angry. "I don't see you telling her to shut up."

I steeled myself, not sparing her a glance as I trudged on forwards, willing the irritation to seep away from me. I needed to be focused, that stone could be anywhere, the last thing I needed was to be pushed over the edge by a Durmstrang witch.

"Alright, ladies," Zubair's buttered voice floated in. "Let's cease fire right now, shall we?"

"Right now?" Yordanka scoffed. "I don't think it's a right now thing anymore Dimitrova. You forget, they are hooking up. God forbid I say one wrong thing about Miss Dominique Lavigne, even in private."

I bit down on my tongue to keep my composure. I hated her mention of it, and she wasn't really in the possession of the entire truth. I hadn't hooked up with Krum—at least not in the sense of that term. 

"I can't see what the fuck he sees in her," She continued under her breath, but in the silence, her sentiment was as clear as the day raging out of Hogwarts blind to our eyes.

"Yordanka," Krum fumed then. "I'm warning you."

The Durmstrang witch gasped, halting in her steps. "What, you'll attack me?"

Viktor didn't say anything, and I swallowed thickly, my concentration wavering from the stone.

"After everything we've been through together? Eight fucking years," Hristova let out. "You're threatening me because of a girl you met a month ago?"

After everything we have been through, her words reverberated in my head.

"Mon dieu," I exhaled, having had enough of this nonsense. "Just shut up, both of you."

They looked at me, startled out of their anger. We had arrived at a crossroads, two different dark paths—both tunnel-like—led out separately into two directions before us, and according to Harry Potter's instructions, the chamber lay at the end of one of them. But the stone could still be hidden at the end of the other.

"We separate here. You both can take the one to the left and reminisce on your time together," I turned to Zubair. "And you can accompany me."

I turned on my heels and started marching towards the tunnel on the right, my wand held high. "Or you can join your friends, either way, I don't mind."

"I'd like to," Zubair shrugged, following behind. "But I like my peace more at present, so lead the way."

I bit back a retort. It was strange to know that he had self labeled himself a Casanova when we had first met. Now, there were strong wedges between us that kept his flirtations engaged to Bridgette and perhaps her ears only. I didn't mind that, but his switch in demeanor had been the more shocking—even more than Krum's. 

"Woah, wait," Viktor blurted, picking up a run and stepping in front of me. His anthracite eyes were incredulous. "Baby, are you mad at me for defending you?"

My frustration melted slightly. "No, it's just—we need to focus. We need the stone. I can't afford to miss it and have to come back down here. And you won't stop talking."

Krum looked unconvinced, but he nodded slowly, before gesturing to Zubair. "Take the left one with Yordanka."

Yordanka Hristova muttered something under her breath, but regardless, followed alongside Zubair as they went leftwards. I picked up my own pace, and we entered the right tunnel, Krum right beside me.

Our lit wands were lighting our way, but the darkness still seemed never ending. The tunnel was scantily littered with bones, and dirt and pieces of stone swept at either sides as though movement from inside and out had occurred a lot of times. I realized with a start then that the Basilisk must've acquired use of the path on its way in and out of the entrance.

The pathway beneath our feet was smooth, and light tracks began to come to my notice. If the Basilisk had used this way, then this tunnel must be the one that led to the Chamber of Secrets.

There was a stale stench in the air that resembled that of sewer smells and rotting animal bodies. I wondered if the slayed monster was still in there somewhere, rotting away with its darkened carcass—thick serpent skin being accidentally preserved like an ancient man's in an ice pit.

"Dominique," Viktor spoke after a pause, his tone resolute. "What exactly are you pissed about?"

"I'm not—"

"Don't do that," He let out, grabbing my elbow and forcing me to a stop. "Didn't we establish this? You tell me whatever that is bothering you—we talk shit out."

"I don't know," I sighed. "It's just that Yordanka—"

"She can be a bitch sometimes," Krum shrugged when I didn't speak.

I sucked in a sharp breath, yanking my elbow away from his grip. "I'm sure she wouldn't like you calling her that. Neither do I."

"Fuck," He uttered under his breath before stopping me again. "Alright, what do you want me to say then?"

"Viktor, she likes you," My brows furrowed. "Can't you see? That is why she hates me."

He swallowed. "You think I don't know that?"

"Baby, Yordanka's just a friend. She has been so for eight years and that isn't about to fucking change. It didn't change then and it sure as hell will not now. I'll make it clear to her if she's stupid enough to still not see that yet."

I attempted to pull away from him again. "She'll just think I forced you to say that."

Viktor ran his free hand over his head in agitation. "Merlin, baby, what then, do you want me to do? I don't care for her like that. I don't fucking want her like I want you."

I sighed, slowly shaking my head in response to I didn't really know what. Slowly Viktor pulled me close, exhaling pent up tension, his arms around my waist as I intertwined my hands at the back of his neck. My own tension seemed to rightly seep out of me then. I suddenly felt stupid. How had I come to this? Where only Viktor Krum's embrace was enough to render me devoid of frustration and fear? Why was my heart and body so dependent on him, what would the consequences be were he to shift away from me suddenly? 

One of his hands dropped to my butt, and he tightened his fingers around it, eliciting a gasp from between my lips.

"Viktor," I breathed, his name a mantra at present with no other intention of being spoken other than that of pleasure.

"I want you," He spoke, his voice hushed as he leaned in closer and caught my lips with his, my hands holding the back of his neck as our tongues enveloped in an embrace reminiscent of sweetly drowning flowers in rain.

Yordanka's words rushed to me then. Hooked up. If I did it with Krum, I wouldn't want it to be just that. Even if that's perhaps all that the term entailed, it wasn't for me. It wasn't all that I wanted. Somehow, I wanted more from Krum than Yordanka Hristova could ever understand, or want herself.

I wanted more than just the feeling of his body pressed against mine, I wanted to believe the promise that he would be by my side even if the world fell apart. I wanted to trust in the notion that I would always have his hand reaching out for me, even if I had gone on and burnt everybody else's.

"We have to find that stone," I managed, leveling my tone and slowly pushing him away.

The haze of lust in his eyes made his features prickle slightly in confusion, before a little rationality seeped into his gaze and his brows unfurrowed. I stepped aside, my hold on my lit wand tightening as I held it in front again, picking up the pace as I ventured silently deeper inside the tunnel. Krum seemed slow suddenly in following me, as though he had halted in his place to consider something before realizing he was being left behind.

His footsteps were oddly all I could focus on as he matched my silence. I figured if I listened hard enough, I might hear the beating of his heart. And I wanted to, so desperately. I just wanted to count each thrum of his organ against his ribcage, and with each beat I wanted the doubts in my mind to disintegrate.

We didn't speak, and the darkness mixed with the words being left unsaid was a palpable feeling that pressed tightly on my chest.

Suddenly, an odd cold light beamed far ahead in my vision. An opening. An ending to this dark tunnel that had been trying its best—or perhaps watching me try my best—to suffocate myself.

I picked up my pace, footsteps swiftly turning into a soft jog as the Durmstrang behind me matched the change.

The Lumos spell on my wand extinguished as I flicked my wrist, my eyes set on the startling scene before me.

The Chamber of Secrets. Shrouded in a dull cold light coming from a grilled opening far above in the ceiling, the chamber was essentially a pathway—puddled with stagnant water—being watched on by the number of giant snarling snake heads lined all the way up to the far distance, where a man's face was carved in the horror of his fury—his stone like that of his serpent entourage's, excepting the largeness of his form.

It was the man's dark hollow eyes that my own got trapped by. His face was accusing, mouth set apart revealing the darkness inside in a manner that was accusatory—raw in his fury.

The stone with which these beings were carved by, glowed a faint deep green, emanating a feeling that I couldn't quite name. A feeling that was somehow meant to tear at even the bravest of hearts in a way that one finds odd burning scars without having realized the exact moment they had acquired them. A feeling that one gets entering a place and suddenly understanding that they had brought nothing along.

"This is..," Viktor Krum started, a low whistle playing out from between his lips. "Not what I was expecting."

I didn't respond, my feet slowly leading my body ahead as I trudged onto the stone pathway, my shoes stepping in the unavoidable stagnant water puddles.

The snake heads loomed at either side of the pathway, vicious with their stone tongues darting out, frozen. I could almost feel a certain warmth coming from the open stony mouths, as if the statues were alive, breathing—biding their time.

My eyes met Salazar Slytherin's dark hollow ones, as I walked towards him as if in a trance. There was a specific feeling of taint radiating from his carved face. A poison that his likeness was spreading in the air, and sure enough, I felt that density in the air shift as I neared him. My shoulders felt heavy, as if the trapped cool wind had grown heavy suddenly.

"Est-ce que tu ressens ça?" I whispered, my voice clear enough to be heard in this silence.

Somewhere in the chamber, a faint constant water drip—continuous and firm—could be heard.

Viktor didn't respond. I heard him mutter something under his breath, before quietly realizing he probably hadn't understood.

I was reluctant to translate, my eyes suddenly spotting a sparkling red glare in one of Slytherin's dark hollow eyes. A single glitter flare—privy to being missed if you blinked. I knew then the Resurrection stone at sight, though I hadn't ever seen such a thing before.

I hurried up to Salazar's face, his mouth dark and large—a doorway leading to further depths shrouded in darkness as it towered before me.

I looked up, the wizard's carved nose blocking the clear vision I had had of his hollow eyes.

"The stone's in the right eye," I spoke to Viktor, sensing him at my side without turning to look.

I took out my wand, and muttered a summoning spell. For a strange reason, resorting to heuristics here felt wrong. It felt like I had swallowed hot whiskey laced with poison, and I was obligated to swallow it down because my host and the dinner hall contributed to the lack of an alternative.

The Chamber of Secrets was no place for heuristics. It was essentially a tainted breeding ground meant for heirs of Slytherin spilling mudblood blood. It was no place for my magic, dormant or not.

From Salazar Slytherin's right eye, a sparkling stone lifted out slowly, gradually lowering itself as I held out my palm.

It looked like a cacophony of scarlet crystals melted and fused together, its size no bigger than my fist. Sharp crystal edges jutted out of it in odd angles, and it was evident they could cut if pressed deep against skin.

I realized then, just by looking at the thing, why Fontaine had asked for it. The stone could bring back someone from the dead. It couldn't defend—it wasn't any help against a dark wizard who still lived. Unless Fontaine had someone he wanted to fetch back from death's consuming grip, the Ilvermorny headmaster wanted the two hallows to be locked away—blocking them from being used by anyone at all.

But not The Elder Wand. It was the only hallow too useful to lock away, the only hallow too useful to not be used.

Viktor neared, looking at the stone in my hand. He was silent, and his aura had suddenly gone unreadable as though the tension between us had somehow intensified—or maybe it was doubling itself all the while and I had just lost track for a few brief moments.

"If you could resurrect anyone from the grave, who would you pick?"

The question was a whisper floating away from between my lips, my eyes intent on the scarlet constellation of a stone in my hand. 

"My grandfather," The Durmstrang's voice was low, mourning etched still in the words. "But I wouldn't use that thing to do it. It isn't worth it." 

I swallowed thickly. "We should get out of here now."

I met Krum's eyes. "Hold it?"

He blinked, nodding once as he reached a hand out, his fingers brushing against my palm as he took the stone. He flicked his wand, muttering a spell as the stone vanished from his hold—safely hidden on the Durmstrang's person.

Then I glanced once briefly at Slytherin's daunting face, before pivoting on my heels.

"Dominique," Viktor stopped me, sighing as he spoke my name, his loud voice reverberating in the chamber.

I turned to look at him. He looked.. pained in his frustration.

"We're not leaving here unless you tell me what the matter is."

"What matter?" I managed, though I knew what he was speaking of. It was just that, I needed time to answer because I had no words ready at my disposal as of yet.

He let out a low grunt, nearing me as he ran a hand over his shaved head, before meeting my eyes.

"Why are you being like this?" The words were hot on his tongue. "What is this tension? This fucking bitterness that I feel coming from you?"

"Bitterness?" I frowned softly, is that what I was radiating?

"Is it because of Yordanka?" Krum blurted out. His words harder now. "In what language should I tell you that she doesn't matter to me like you do, so her words shouldn't matter to you as well."

"Or is it me?" His eyes bore into mine, anger softening into something else. "Did I do something? Am I not what you want anymore?"

I stilled at that. How had he come to that conclusion, when it was the farthest from the truth?

"You've been like this since we returned from Gregorovitch's," The Durmstrang breathed, a hitch in his voice. "What are you thinking? Why won't you be clear with me?"

"I—I just," I grasped at words, my heart hammering in my chest. "I don't know if what you want from me is the only thing that I want too."

He blinked, his chest heaving as he tried to decipher me—my words.

"What Yordanka said just really affected it," I cupped my elbow. "It's not her fault, but I realize now that I want more than what you want from me, or what she and everyone else perceive of us."

"And its unfair, I know," I broke off, my eyes aching. "To want so much from someone so suddenly. But I've never had anything significant from anyone before, not my parents or my friends, up until now—up until my great uncle."

"He gave me everything he had got left," I continued, briefly glancing at Salazar Slytherin's face behind Krum.

"And I realize that after everything he had been to me earlier in my life, I deserved every bit of his last act of kindness."

"And with us," I met Viktor's eyes. "I know I deserve more. I want more than just a hookup with you. I will be facing Dumbledore soon, and then maybe Voldemort. I want to know if you'll be there with me. I want to believe that this will last it all."

"And I just—I don't want to become so attached that it kills me when you suddenly decide differently."

"Dominique," The Bulgarian seeker's voice was a mix of hard syllables spoken softly, his anthracite eyes hard in mine as he stepped closer.

He reached for my hand and took it in his, a thick thumb caressing the skin at my wrist.

"Who said I will decide differently?" He murmured, "Who says I will ever decide on anyone other than you?" 

I shut my eyes as our foreheads met. His skin was a touch warm and cold, as though the air in here was affecting him too. I wanted to believe him so desperately, but I was wary, my heart so hopeless that my brain kept tugging it back, as though it was a creature on a leash that needed to be sedated. 

"I only want you," Krum shook his head. "I want everything to do with you. I want to do everything with you. I don't want us to be limited, I don't want what most everybody fucking has. I want more with you too." 

"Then have me," I spoke the words, and they felt like water on my tongue as they flowed out. 

Hookup. Yordanka was right in a sick sort of way when she had made the use of that word. There was only one way to know if what Viktor Krum and I had was real. I wanted to see if he would leave after—if he would change. I wanted to know if that was all he wanted. Words could lie, couldn't they? But did actions ever lie? 

Viktor stilled, slowly separating our foreheads to meet my eyes. There was uncertainty in them, and a curious lust that spread like ink diffusing in water. 

"Have me, Viktor," I gazed back into his eyes, watching the uncertainty from them vanish.

If he left afterwards, I would know. It would leave me grasping and clawing at the skin on my chest, but I would still know. I would have my answer. The hurt was worth it if I got the answer that I needed in the end, wasn't it? 

At the same time, my body yearned for him in ways I would crumble if I even began to dissect. If I had that moment to hold close then maybe I would remain sane after his departure. I would be able to understand and move on. 

"Are you sure?" He breathed, stepping closer to me as his eyes fluttered to my lips than back to meet my gaze again. 

"Yes," I exhaled, "Yes." 

His thick hand wrapped around my waist and yanked me flush against his body, while his other hand dug into his uniform and whipped out his wand. He muttered a spell under his breath, and while it was clear enough for me to hear, my mind was a dense fog of thoughts thrashing around for only him—leaving me entirely incapable of registering words. 

Translucent clouds of condensed air appeared right in the middle of the pathway to Salazar, under the watchful gaze of his serpent entourage. They were the same kind Viktor had earlier summoned to soften our landing, except now again they would be used—for relatively the same purpose. They hovered inches above the wet ground of Slytherin's chambers—a separating haven just for the two of us.

He kissed me then, his mouth hungry and devouring as he traced every crevice of mine with his tongue, his lips engaged in a rough tangle with mine. My hands were around his neck, holding the back of his head as he moved with fervor, as though the reins he had had earlier on him had somehow come loose. 

Swiftly, he swept me off my feet and I found myself being swallowed by the clouds of his making, his form landing on top of mine as he broke away from our kiss and dug his face in the nape of my neck, his lips sucking my skin. I half shut my eyes, the feeling of being amidst the clouds was reminiscent of a luxurious bed—or silk rubbing against my bare skin. A gentle warmth radiated from them, infusing into our troubled skin that had a few moments ago been at odds with the air of Slytherin's chamber. Perhaps these clouds were not exactly the ones Viktor had summoned before, perhaps he had altered them for this occasion—for me. 

With thick fingers fumbling at the zipper of my Beauxbatons uniform, Viktor unzipped my dress, both his hands now snaking under my thighs to gather the material as I pushed myself up and he pulled it over my head, tossing it aside. 

Left in my dark bra and panties, my loosely curled raven hair rushed back down, rippling down my bare skin. My eyes met Krum's briefly, before he broke the contact. His eyes scanned me, resting on the mark on my shoulder briefly before he dipped his gaze low, a deep grunt escaping from between his lips as he neared me again, clamping his lips to my collarbone, kissing ripples into my whole being. 

My hands started unbuttoning his dark brown shirt, the thick matching blazer of his uniform already off and tossed to a side. His hands aided my own, before quickly taking charge as he all but yanked his shirt off with force and discarded it aside. 

I lay my hands on his bare chest, tanned, muscled and firm—all of his hard work and strength morphed into his body like he was a patterned cream statue dominating the louvre. My hands caressed his skin, before wrapping around his neck again. Viktor went deeper then, his lips latching onto the exposed top of my breasts as he trailed them down, kissing my stomach before I felt his warm tongue swipe against the inside of my thigh, sending waves of vibration all over my body. 

I pressed myself deeper into the softness of the clouds, my back arching as my eyes briefly opened to the glimpses of Salazar's chamber—somewhere still the water dripped after equal intervals. From the corner of my eye, I saw the wizard's carved hollow eyes fixed intently on us, watching the scene unfold, before Viktor's back blocked his vision of me. 

The Durmstrang raised himself up again, meeting my face as he locked our lips together in another heated kiss. I moaned into the kiss, and he grunted lowly, a vibration in his throat. He pulled away, fire in his eyes as he gazed at me with narrowed eyes. 

"I'll stand by you through everything, I fucking promise you," He breathed, his rhythm uneven as his chest heaved slightly. 

I shut my eyes tight, my heart hammering in my chest with the relief I felt at his words. The feeling would wear off, I knew that. In my darkest hour, I'll still worry if Krum had meant it. But at present, my whole soul believed his words. 

Moving my weight from my elbows and sitting up, I slipped my arms at my back, unclasping my bra and gently letting the material gather on my chest. With my eyes fixed in his, I slowly let down a strap, and his ebony irises dropped to the scene. I slid the last strap, slowly taking the bra and putting it aside, my eyes not leaving Krum's. His lips parted, transfixed by the sight of my exposed form, before he grunted again, shut his eyes, and dipped his head back, exhaling, as though he was roped into a prayer. The Adam's apple at his throat stood erect, as he lifted his head back up again, the fire in his eyes meeting mine. 

"Merlin, you're fucking gorgeous." 

Viktor grabbed hold of my waist, pressing me back down as his lips lavished attention on my breasts. I felt his warm tongue swipe against my skin, and I couldn't rein in the soft moans escaping my lips then. He swirled his tongue around my nipple, and I felt myself melting entirely under him. 

His hands fumbled with the three solitary buttons of his uniform's brown trousers, and in seconds his lower waist was on display—skin just as firm and muscled there as it was on the rest of his body. I glimpsed his member, the part of him eager and exposed. Grabbing his wand from the side, he muttered a spell and the required protection appeared wrapped on him—a faint sparkle as the dim green hued light of the chamber caught the transparent rubber. He lowered himself on me, his hands touching every inch of me as he pressed his lips at the base of my stomach, trailing kisses down to my panties before he kissed me over the thin material. 

I let out a soft whimper, electricity shooting throughout every sensitive vein that I had running throughout my skin. 

The Bulgarian seeker tucked his fingers on the edges of the material at the sides of my lower waist, pulling it down my thighs. My hands aided in the endeavor, as I relieved myself of the last piece of clothing I had still left on my body.

"Did I tell you how gorgeous you are?" He spoke, his tone gruff as though he was having trouble even forming words. 

I couldn't respond, my own words becoming more scarce by the second. Viktor grabbed the back of my lower waist, and positioned himself at my entrance. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around his neck again—feeling like that is where my upper limbs belonged. My legs moved apart, letting him in. 

Slowly, he slid his form into me, groaning, and I bit my lip from the pain, letting a whimper escape my mouth. He thrust into me, his fired up irises lifting to meet mine, his jaw tight. The pain subsided quickly then, replacing itself with an immense pleasure I didn't ever think I was capable of feeling.

I was no virgin, having impulsively given the piece of myself away to a boy in my fifth year at Beauxbatons—driven by the curious desire of knowing what it was supposed to feel like, letting myself have it so that I would never have to wonder again, so that I would not chase after what other girls my age at school would blush about. Bridgette had given the piece of herself away that night too, both of us having formed a girlish pact that we had both seen carried through. 

But this didn't feel like what I had felt then. The sensation of Viktor Krum inside me was enthralling, it was consuming. It made me feel like I was being lifted to heights I had never known before. It made me feel like I was a part of him, and he was a part of me. The waves of pleasure drowning me took over my thoughts, and I arched my back as Krum's thrusts quickened and deepened. 

A tear slipped from the corner of my eye, as I shut the pair of them tight, letting out moans of immense pleasure—a flimsy testament to the divine feeling I was being engulfed in. 

"I love you," He breathed out, his breath hot on my ear. "I'm in too deep with you, Dominique—no one can fucking pull me out." 

I opened my eyes to meet his, the emotions swirling in them all accented by the haze of his lust. He kissed me again, breaking away to grunt, his forehead touching mine as I held the sides of his face, holding him close. 

He continued to thrust in and out of me, and I felt my body suddenly reach its climax after mere minutes, the pleasure contorting to the base of my stomach as my ecstasy threatened to explode. As if pleading to the heavens, I opened my eyes and looked upwards, the atmosphere of the chamber dawning on me. 

I was having sex with Viktor Krum in the Chamber of Secrets. The fact was bizarre, and so startling. I had the sudden urge to laugh. 

"Viktor, I'm about to—" I broke off, words choked up in face of my struggle to hold myself. 

"Do it, baby," He exhaled. 

My walls tightened around him as I let myself go, feeling my soul unravel into streams, my skin awash with a faint hint of cool as my heart slammed continually against my ribcage, wanting to break free. 

Viktor Krum held on minutes more, before he collapsed inside me, his arms holding his body above me so as to not burden me with his weight. He breathed heavily, shifting to a single arm and dropping like a marionette beside my naked body. In the silence, all I heard was the sound of our irregular breaths and their broken rhythms, accented by the faint dripping of water somewhere in the Chamber of Secrets. 

"Fuck," Viktor managed after regaining some of his pattern. 

I turned to look at him, waiting for what was to come, steeling myself and expecting anything and everything. We had hooked up. It was done. Would he want to leave now? Take back all his words? 

His eyes bore into mine, as he slowly snaked an arm under my bare back and around my shoulder, pulling me into his chest. 

"That was amazing," He breathed against my forehead, "That was fucking unreal." 

I felt heat creep up to my neck as I bit my lip. 

He put a finger under my chin to raise my eyes to his. "Is it wrong that I feel like I need this everyday? Is it too crazy to want to be nowhere but inside you now that I know what you feel like?" 

I didn't say anything, my eyes looking into his trying to digest the raw emotion I was watching swirl in his anthracite irises. 

"You and me, baby?" He husked, his eyes flashing something. "We are meant to be. Get that through that pretty head of yours. You belong to me now—body, heart and soul. I've got my claim on everything that you are." 

Then he leaned in closer, lips brushing against mine. "You have ten seconds before I take you again." 

***

A/N: 
okayyy i bet the smut was unexpected lol. anyways, happy thursday i guess <3