littlesweetchurro - Tumblr blog

littlesweetchurro · 11 months ago

Text

Malfunctioned

Chapter Five

✨Summary:

You were no better than a fangirl.

The hero's head snaped up, his eyes traveling from the hologram to you as he took in your incredibly flustered, embarrassed face. A slow, predatory grin spread across his face.

"See something you like, nerd?" he taunted.

"I— What? No!" you sputtered.

Really? That's your answer!

"I was just... examining the fabric of your costume. For, uh, heat resistance properties."

✨Content: Cursing

✨W.C: 3019

✨ Also on AO3

Bakugou

30%

30 fucking percent.

His arrest numbers had dropped by thirty percent in the past week. Fucking thirty percent. He could practically hear the extras whispering behind his back, questioning if the great Dynamight was losing his edge.

His jaw clenched, a vein throbbing in his temple. This was all because of those damn faulty gauntlets. Without them, he couldn't unleash his full power. Couldn't take down the tougher villains as quickly or efficiently.

The thought of that smug tech specialist wormed its way into his mind. She'd promised results, but so far all he'd gotten was excuses and delays. His patience was wearing dangerously thin.

He stormed into the workshop, his teeth gritted and hands clenched.

The nerd was hunched over her workbench, surrounded by a mess of blueprints and holographic displays. She looked up as he entered, her eyes lighting up with an enthusiasm that made his scowl deepen.

"Dynamight! Perfect timing. I've just finished the improvement plans for your gauntlets," she said, gesturing to the cluttered workspace.

He grunted, crossing his arms. "This better be good, nerd. I've been blasting villains without my gear all week because of your bullshit."

The tech ignored his hostility. She pulled up holographic schematics, pointing out various modifications. "I've redesigned the nitroglycerin storage system to increase capacity by 35%. And look here," she zoomed in on a particular section, "I've added a pressure regulation system that will give you finer control over your explosions."

Bakugou studied the plans. He hated to admit it, but some of the changes looked interesting. Not that he'd ever tell her that.

"And what the fuck makes you think I need 'finer control'?" he snapped. "My explosions are perfect as they are."

The nerd didn't back down. "Your explosions are powerful, yes, but with this system, you could create more precise blasts for situations that require a lighter touch. It would expand your tactical options."

He scoffed. "I don't need more 'options'. I need gear that can keep up with me."

"That's exactly what I'm trying to give you," she insisted, pulling up another display. "Look, I've analyzed your fighting style. These modifications will complement your movements, not hinder them."

He felt his temper rising. Who did this nerd think she was, claiming to understand his fighting style after just a week? "You don't know shit about how I fight," he growled.

The tech's eye twitched. "I've studied hours of footage, Dynamight. I might not be a pro hero, but I know gear, and I know how to optimize it for different quirks and fighting styles."

Bakugou stepped closer to the workbench, looming over the tech. "You think watching a few videos makes you an expert on me? That's fucking rich."

The nerd didn't flinch. She met his glare head-on. "I don't claim to be an expert on you, Dynamight. But I am an expert on support gear. And whether you like it or not, this design will improve your performance."

"Bullshit," Bakugou snarled, slamming his palm on the table. A small explosion scorched the surface. "You're just another know-it-all nerd who thinks they can tell me how to do my job."

To his surprise, the tech stood up, getting right in his face. "And you're just another hot-headed hero who's too stubborn to accept help when it's offered. These improvements could save lives, including yours. But go ahead, keep throwing your little tantrums if it makes you feel better."

Bakugou felt a surge of... something. Anger? Excitement? He couldn't quite place it, but he found himself wanting to push further, to see just how far this nerd would go.

"You've got a lot of nerve, talking to me like that," he growled, leaning in closer. "I could blast you through that wall with one hand."

She snickered. Actually fucking snickered. At him. "Go ahead and try it, tough guy. I'd love to see you explain to the agency why you destroyed hundreds of thousands worth of equipment."

He grinned. This nerd had some serious balls. He watched as her face flushed with anger, her eyes practically sparking. It only made his grin widen, which seemed to piss her off even more. Good.

"Fine," he snarled. "You think your fancy new design is so great? Prove it."

A smirk played at the corner of her lips, and he had to resist the urge to blast it off her face. "I thought you'd never ask," she said, moving towards a cleared area of the workshop.

She activated a series of machines, creating a holographic simulation of a city block. "This is a recreation of your fight last week against the Octopus Villain," she explained, pulling up footage of the battle alongside the simulation.

Bakugou watched with narrow eyes, as she demonstrated how his current gauntlets performed in the fight. Then, with a few quick adjustments, she ran the simulation again with the modified design.

The difference was noticeable. The simulated Bakugou moved with greater agility, his explosions more controlled and targeted. He took down the villain in half the time, with significantly less collateral damage.

Well fuck. This nerd was bark and talk.

His mouth twisted into a grin. But he quickly schooled his expression back into a scowl. He’ll be damned if he let the nerd know he was impressed.

"It's just a simulation," he grumbled.

The nerd's satisfied smirk was back, and it made Bakugou want to blow something up, preferably that smug look. "True, but the math checks out. These modifications would objectively improve your performance."

Bakugou glared at her for a long moment, then let out a frustrated growl. "Fine," he bit out. "Maybe some of your ideas aren't completely shit."

The tech's face lit up with triumph, and Bakugou felt his irritation spike again. "Don't get cocky, nerd," he snapped. "I still think most of this is unnecessary crap."

This tech was infuriating, stubborn, and way too smart for her own good. But she was good.

The nerd's face flushed with anger. Her fingers clenched around the edge of the workbench, knuckles turning white.

"Unnecessary crap?" she sputtered. "These modifications could mean the difference between life and death out there!"

He scoffed, crossing his arms. "I've been doing just fine without your fancy upgrades, Four-Eyes."

"Fine?" The tech's voice rose an octave. "You call nearly getting skewered by that octopus villain 'fine'?"

The fuck did she say? "I had that situation under control!"

"Oh really?" She pulled up the footage again, zooming in on a particularly close call. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you barely dodged that tentacle."

"Tch." Bakugou glared at the hologram. "I was setting up for my final attack."

The nerd threw her hands up in exasperation. "And with these modifications, you could have ended the fight before it even got to that point!"

Bakugou leaned in, his face inches from hers. "Listen here, you uppity little—"

"No, you listen!" She jabbed a finger into his chest. This fucking nerd. "I'm trying to help you, you stubborn a— man! Why can't you just admit that maybe, just maybe, someone else might have a good idea?"

There was no fucking way she was about to call him, the number two hero an ass.

Bakugou gritted this teeth. Then, to his own surprise, he felt the corners of his mouth twitch upward. This nerd had some serious fire in her.

"Because," he growled, unable to keep the hint of amusement from his voice, "I'm the fucking best. I don't need help."

The tech's eyes blazed. "You arrogant, pig-headed—" She stopped bit her lip, took a long inhale, nostrils flaring before she huffed out a breath.

Bakugou couldn't help it. He grinned, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle of this pint-sized nerd going toe-to-toe with him. Not many people had the guts to stand up to him like this.

It was refreshing.

You

You felt heat rising to your cheeks as you glare up at Dynamight. His crimson eyes bore into yours, challenging, infuriating and dangerous. Stupidly dangerous. Any survival instincts you may had once had, were apparently nowhere to be found. You wanted to look away, to back down, but you refused to give him the satisfaction.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Peace begins with me.

All is well.

And all that other Zen bullshit.

Anything to keep you from lunging yourself at the man standing in front of you and getting burnt to a crisp.

"For the last time," you gritted out, "these modifications will significantly improve your combat effectiveness. Why can't you just—"

"I don't need your nerdy bullshit to be effective," he cut you off. "My explosions are already perfect."

I am calm.

You bit the inside of your mouth and resisted the urge to bang your head against the workbench. How can someone so skilled be so goddamn stubborn?

"Look," you replied. "I'm not saying your explosions aren't powerful. But with these adjustments, you could have finer control. Imagine being able to create precise, targeted blasts for hostage situations or delicate rescue operations."

He scoffed.

This mother—

"I don't do 'delicate,' nerd. I'm not some fucking rescue puppy."

You clenched your fists, feeling your nails dig into your palms.

I am calm.

I am Zen.

You're a professional. Keep your shit together.

Even if this pro hero is acting like a petulant child. Scratch that, a child was a lot easier to deal with.

"Fine," you said, taking a deep breath. "Let's focus on the combat applications then. With the new pressure regulation system, you could vary the intensity of your explosions on the fly. Imagine catching a villain off guard by suddenly increasing your blast power mid-fight."

He glanced at the projections and for a second, a long second you thought he finally saw reason. Maybe, maybe he would finally understood.

"I don't need tricks," he growled. "My raw power is enough to take down any shitty villain."

Maybe not.

You bit back a groan of frustration. "It's not about tricks, Dynamight. It's about expanding your arsenal. Giving you more options in the field."

"Options are for weak heroes who can't get the job done with pure strength," he sneered.

Keep calm.

Keep calm!

"Oh, for f— heaven's sake!" you exploded, throwing your hands up. "Are you really so arrogant that you can't see how this could make you even stronger? Or are you just scared of change?"

Shit.

God damn your mouth! Why couldn't you keep quiet?

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you regretted them. Dynamight's nostrils flared, and you swore you could see small explosions popping in his palms. But you weren't brave enough to look. You apparently could choose when to be brave, you just had really really shitty timing.

"What did you just say to me?" he snarled, leaning in close.

You swallowed hard, but stood your ground. You've already crossed a line; might as well see it through. "You heard me," you repeated, your voice steadier than you felt. "I think you're afraid. Afraid that if you admit these modifications could help, it means you're not as perfect as you think you are."

The hero's face contorted with rage, and you braised yourself to turn into a crisp, burned engineer. But then, to your surprise, he let out a bark of laughter.

"You've got some serious balls, nerd," he said. "But you're dead wrong. I'm not afraid of anything."

Finally, an opening!

"Prove it then," you challenged. "Let me implement these modifications. If they don't improve your performance, I'll personally remove them and never suggest an upgrade again."

He studied you for a long moment, his red eyes intense.

Stick to your guns! You knew deep in your bones that you were right, you shouldn't let this man intimidate you. Even if such man could melt you into tomorrow in five seconds—two with your improvements.

Finally, he spoke. "Fine. But I get final say on which mods stay. And if this fucks up my gear, I'm holding you personally responsible."

You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. "Deal," you replied.

You held out your hand, half-expecting Dynamight to ignore it. To your surprise, he snorted but reached out to grasp it firmly.

His hand was massive, easily engulfing yours. The rough calluses scraped against your softer skin. But what really caught you off guard was the heat. His palm radiated warmth like a furnace. It was like holding a warm cup of hot chocolate.

It was nice. Really nice, if you were being honest.

"Don't make me regret this, nerd," he growled, giving your hand a final squeeze before letting go.

You flexed your fingers, trying to shake off the lingering sensation of warmth. Like the weirdo you were, you had the urge to bring it to your nose and see if it smelled like caramel.

"Let's go through the modifications one by one, and you can decide which ones to keep." You urged on.

For the next hour, you and Dynamight poured over the schematics. You should have known not to judge a book by its cover, Dynamight turned out was more knowledgeable about the technical aspects than you expected. He was brawn and brains. He asked pointed questions and made some surprisingly insightful suggestions.

"What about this part here?" he asked, pointing to a section of the gauntlet. "If we reinforced it, couldn't I channel more power through without risking structural damage?"

"That... that's actually a really good idea," you admitted. "We'd need to adjust the alloy composition, but it could work."

Dynamight smirked, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

Still an arrogant ass.

"See? I told you I know my shit."

You rolled your eyes. "Don't let it go to your head. You still thought the pressure regulation system was unnecessary."

"It is unnecessary," he grumbled.

As you leaned in to make a notation on the blueprint, you suddenly became aware of how close you were to Dynamight. The heat radiating from his body, the faint scent of caramel and smoke that clung to him. Your eyes flicked up, taking in his profile.

You hated to admit it, but he was undeniably attractive. Curse him and his handsome face. His jawline was sharp enough to cut glass, and the way his hero costume clung to his muscular frame was... distracting, to say the least. Your gaze trailed down his neck, over his broad shoulders, to his chest—

Shit. You realized you've been staring for far too long. You stumbled backward, your face burning.

You were no better than a fangirl.

The hero's head snaped up, his eyes traveling from the hologram to you as he took in your incredibly flustered, embarrassed face. A slow, predatory grin spread across his face.

"See something you like, nerd?" he taunted.

"I— What? No!" you sputtered.

Really? That's your answer!

"I was just... examining the fabric of your costume. For, uh, heat resistance properties."

You bit back a groan.

His grin widened, and you want nothing more than to wipe that smug look off his face. Maybe it wasn't too late to let his gauntlets blow up on his face.

No! Bad brain. Focus on the work.

"Sure you were," Dynamight drawled, clearly not buying your excuse. He stretched, making his muscles ripple under his costume. "Don't worry, I'm used to people staring. Can't blame 'em for appreciating perfection. Can't blame you ."

You scoffed.

"Please. I've seen better biceps on a noodle."

It was a blatant lie, and you both knew it, but there was no way you were going to admit that. Dynamight's arms were practically works of art, sculpted by the hero Gods themselves.

He raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh yeah? Why don't you come over here and test that theory?"

What?

You stopped breathing. Was he... flirting with you? No, that was ridiculous. This was Dynamight, the explosive hero known for his short temper and disdain for, well, everyone. He was probably baiting you into touching him so he could have an excuse to blast you into tomorrow. He would claim it had been self-defense.

And yet there was that stupid glint in his eye that made him look almost…playful. Nonsense, it was probably a cataract or he was having an aneurysm, neither one was more probable that Dynamight flirting with you.

"We should, uh, finish going over these modifications. There's still the matter of the ignition timing to discuss."

Dynamight's smirk didn't fade, much to your mortification. "Fine. But don't think I didn't notice you checking me out, nerd. I might have to start charging admission."

How in God's good name did you get here?

You groaned, eyes glued to the screen. "Can we please just focus on the work?"

"Whatever you say, Four-Eyes," he rumbled. "But don't worry, I won't tell anyone about your little crush on the number two hero."

"I do not have a crush on you!" you protested a tad too loud, a tad too desperate.

The explosion hero just grinned, looking at you like you did have a crush on him and he was ever so gratefully blessing you with his presence. The sadist was clearly enjoying himself. "Keep telling yourself that, nerd. Now, about that ignition timing..."

As you dove back into the technical details, you tried to ignore the way your skin tingled every time he leaned close to examine a schematic. You told yourself it was just the excitement of working on such advanced gear, nothing more.

It had to be nothing more.

But a small part of you, a part you're trying very hard to ignore, wondered what it would be like to trace his muscles with your fingers, to find out if he tasted as sweet as he smelled.

No. Stop it. You're a professional, dammit. Though apparently that went out the window.

Focus on the work.

You shook your head, pushing those dangerous thoughts aside. There was still so much to do, and you couldn't afford to get distracted by Dynamight's... everything.

Even if a small part of you kind of wanted to.

#fanfic #mha fanfiction #pro hero bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #mha x reader #your-mum3000

9 notes · View notes

littlesweetchurro · 1 year ago

Text

Malfunctioned

Chapter Four

Bakugou's eye twitched as he followed the receptionist down yet another winding hallway. How fucking big was this place? And why did it smell like burnt coffee and desperation?

"Here we are, sir," the woman chirped, gesturing to a door at the end of the hall. "Your technician will be with you shortly."

He grunted in response, shouldering past her into the workshop. The door swung shut behind him with a soft click, leaving him alone in the chaos.

And chaos it was. Workbenches overflowed with half-finished projects and scattered tools. Blueprints and schematics papered the walls, covered in scribbled notes and calculations. The air hummed with the buzz of machinery and the faint scent of ozone.

Bakugou's lip curled. Looked like a fucking tornado had hit the place. How the hell was anyone supposed to work in this mess?

But as he looked closer, he started to see a method to the madness. Each workbench seemed dedicated to a specific project, the tools arranged for easy access. The blueprints on the walls were grouped by hero, their notes color-coded and organized.

It was chaos, yeah, but it was efficient chaos.

Things were better cleanly organized.

He prowled the perimeter of the room, eyes sharp for any sign of incompetence. A half-assembled gauntlet caught his attention, its inner workings exposed. He leaned in for a closer look. The design was intricate, the craftsmanship precise. It wasn't bad. Not bad at all.

A loud crash from the hallway made him whip around. The door flew open, revealing a woman struggling with an armful of equipment.

"Sorry about that!" she called over her shoulder to someone out of sight. "I've got it under control!"

She kicked the door shut behind her and turned, freezing when she saw him. Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second before her face settled into a professional mask.

"Dynamight," she said, nodding in greeting as she dumped her load onto a nearby workbench. "I'm your assigned technician. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Bakugou sized her up. She wasn't what he'd expected. No starry-eyed hero worship, no cowering at his reputation. Just cool professionalism.

"'Bout fucking time," he growled, crossing his arms. "You always keep your clients waiting?"

She didn't flinch at his tone, just raised an eyebrow. "Only the ones who show up early," she replied smoothly. "Now, I understand you're having issues with your gauntlets?"

He glanced at the clock on the wall. Shit. He was early.

"Yeah," he said, recovering quickly. He reached into his bag and pulled out the malfunctioning gear, tossing it onto the workbench. "Firing mechanism's fucked. Blasts are weak, misfiring all over the place. Fix it."

The technician's eyes lit up at the sight of the gauntlets, her hands already reaching for them. She tried to suppress a smile, but failed. Fucking nerd. "I see. And when did you first notice the issue? Was it a gradual decline in performance or a sudden malfunction?"

That was... actually a good question.

"Gradual," he admitted grudgingly. "Started about a month ago. Thought it was just wear and tear at first, but it kept getting worse."

She nodded, her fingers delicately dancing over the gauntlets as she examined them. "Any recent impacts or exposure to extreme temperatures? And how often do you clean the nitroglycerin storage system?"

"No impacts. Been careful with the temp since the last fuck-up. And I clean it after every patrol, what do you take me for, an amateur?"

The technician looked up, meeting his glare with a level gaze. "I take you for a professional who knows the importance of proper maintenance," she said. "Now, have you noticed any changes in the viscosity of your sweat when using the gauntlets?"

Who the fuck was this woman?

"Yeah, actually," he said slowly. "It's been thicker lately. Harder to ignite."

She nodded, her fingers moving to the ignition mechanism. "That could be part of the problem. The viscosity change might be throwing off the calibration. When was the last time you had the storage system's coating replaced?"

Bakugou scowled. "Coating? What fucking coating?"

The technician looked up, surprise flashed across her face, then vanished. "The hydrophobic coating on the interior of the storage system," she explained. "It prevents your sweat from adhering to the walls, ensuring smooth flow to the ignition point. It needs to be replaced periodically, especially with quirks as potent as yours."

Bakugou felt his face heat up, a mix of embarrassment and anger churning in his gut. How the fuck did he not know about this? And how did she know so much about his quirk?

"No one ever mentioned a fucking coating," he growled, his hands sparking.

The technician didn't even flinch at the small explosions. Instead, she just nodded, her focus already back on the gauntlets. "That explains a lot. The degradation of the coating would cause exactly the kind of issues you're experiencing. We'll need to strip it down, reapply the coating, and recalibrate the entire system."

She looked up at him, and smiled. "I can fix this, Dynamight. But it's going to take time, and I'm going to need your cooperation. Think you can handle that?"

Bakugou bristled at her tone, ready to snap back. But something in her steady gaze and confident posture made him pause. This wasn't some simpering fan or cowering technician. This was someone who knew her shit and wasn't afraid to call him on his.

Fucking finally someone competent.

"Fine," he growled, uncrossing his arms. "What do you need?"

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "First, I need you to tell me everything about how these gauntlets interact with your quirk. Leave nothing out, no matter how small it might seem. Can you do that?"

Bakugou scanned the tech's face. "Oh, I can do that. Question is, can you keep up?"

The technician's smile widened. "Try me."

You carefully lifted the gauntlet, cradling it like a newborn as your eyes drink in every detail. They were beautiful.

It was heavier than you had originally suspected— not good.

Your fingers traced the simple yet effective mechanisms.

"So, when you activate your quirk, does the nitroglycerin flow evenly through all channels, or do you notice any variance?" you asked, not taking your eyes off the equipment.

Dynamight scowled, his arms crossed tightly over his rather toned chest. "It's supposed to be even, but lately the left side's been weaker. And don't fucking manhandle it like that!"

"Relax. I'm not going to break it." You turned the gauntlet over, examining the ignition mechanism. "Though from the looks of it, someone's already done a number on these beauties."

His scowl deepened, a vein throbbing in his forehead. "The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

You shrugged, a small smirk playing on your lips. "Just an observation. These modifications here," you pointed to a series of adjustments near the wrist, "they're not part of the original design, are they?"

His chest puffed out. "No," he growled, "but they improved the response time."

"Ah," you nodded, your tone dry. "That explains a lot."

His eyes narrowed dangerously and for a second you thought you fucked up. You were provoking a beast. A beast that easily blow up your measly quirkless, weak self. "And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

You set the gauntlet down gently, meeting his glare with a level gaze. No use backing down now.

He wasn't about to intimate you in your space. "It means, Dynamight , that while your modifications are... creative, they've compromised the integrity of the original design. See here?" You pointed to a hairline crack in the casing. "And here? These stress points are weakening the entire structure."

The hero gritted his teeth, his hands clenching at his sides. "It fucking improved them!"

"You certainly tried ," you smirked. "But unless your goal was to turn these into wearable pipe bombs, I'd say you missed the mark."

He looked at you like you had just murdered his puppy. You darted your eyes to avoid looking at him. He literally was the embodiment of the expression if looks could kill.

"Who exactly did these modifications? Because whoever it was, they clearly didn't understand the delicate balance of the original design." You quickly added.

His scowl deepened, if that was even possible. He looked like he was about to explode - figuratively and possibly literally. "It was the head of my support department, Haruto. He said he could improve them."

You couldn't help but let out a derisive snort. "Well, Haruto did a horrible job. These alterations are amateur at best, dangerous at worst."

"The fuck did you just say?"

You met his glare head-on, you reminded yourself that you had not hurt his puppy nor were you responsible for this shitty job. "I said Haruto did a horrible job. Look," you pointed to the gauntlet, "he's compromised the structural integrity here and here. The flow regulators are completely off-balance, which explains why your left side feels weaker. And don't even get me started on the ignition timing."

You shook your head, genuinely appalled. This Haruto character should be embarrassed to have a hero wear this kind of crap. "Whoever this Haruto is, he clearly doesn't understand the complexities of your quirk or the precision required for this level of support gear. These modifications aren't just ineffective, they're potentially hazardous. One wrong move and these things could backfire spectacularly."

"So what the fuck are you saying? That I've been using fucked up gear this whole time?"

You nodded grimly. "That's exactly what I'm saying. And frankly, it's a miracle you haven't had a serious malfunction yet."

For a moment, you thought he might actually explode and that this would the end to your short career. ' Death by being a smart ass', your headstone would read. His whole body tensed, small pops emanating from his palms. But then, to your surprise, he deflated, much like a balloon that had been sitting on the sun for a day too long.

"Just... fix the damn things," he growled.

And you lived another day.

You nodded, turning back to the gauntlets. As you bend over the workbench, you could feel his crimson eyes on you. The weight of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes tracked every moment, every time you touched something he leaned in a bit closer. It was… unnerving, it made you feel like a common criminal.

You cleared your throat. "So, about that left side weakness. When did you first notice it?"

As Dynamight launched into a detailed explanation, you let your eyes flick over to him. He was gesticulating wildly, his muscular arms flexing with each movement. Your gaze trailed down his body, taking in the way his hero costume clings to every defined muscle.

He definitely did not look like Rubber Man. Not that did that matter of course. All heroes were the same.

You shook your head, forcing your attention back to the task at hand. Focus, dammit. You're a professional not an ogling fan.

"...and then it just fucking sputtered out," Dynamight finished, glaring at the offending gauntlet.

You nodded, processing the information you did manage to get. "Alright, I think I see the problem. Or rather, problems. Plural."

His eyebrow twitched. "The fuck does that mean?"

You took a deep breath, no backing down, you reminded yourself. "It means, Dynamight, that these gauntlets are a mess. A beautiful, complex mess, but a mess nonetheless."

His hands spark dangerously. "Watch it, nerd."

You ignored the threat and the jab. "First off, the coating issue we discussed earlier? That's just the tip of the iceberg. The storage system is completely gunked up, which is throwing off the flow dynamics. Your modifications to the ignition system have created micro-fissures in the casing, which are letting in moisture and compromising the nitroglycerin's stability."

He opened his mouth to argue, but you plowed on. "The left side weakness? That's because your 'improvements' have put uneven stress on the firing mechanism. And don't even get me started on the calibration issues."

You paused meeting his furious red gaze. "Simply put, Dynamight, these gauntlets are accidents waiting to happen. You're lucky they haven't blown up in your face yet."

For a long moment, he didn't speak and all you could do was hold your breath. The explosion hero's face cycled through emotions, one quickly following the other. His anger was a wildfire, consuming his face. It was quickly replaced by a look of shock, indignation and finally disgust.

"So what the fuck do we do about it?" he demanded.

You grinned. "We fix it. More than that, we improve it. I've got some ideas that could take these from potential pipe bombs to precision instruments."

Dynamight leaned in and crossed his arms across his broad, hard chest. "Like what?"

"We can redesign the storage system to be more efficient, allowing for larger blasts without increasing the overall size. A new alloy for the casing would improve durability while reducing weight. And if we reconfigure the ignition mechanism, we could give you finer control over your explosions, maybe even allow for different types of blasts."

As you spoke, his anger faded, replaced by his brows furrowing together. He was following every word, occasionally nodding or frowning.

Good at least he had the brains to follow along.

"And the best part," you finished, slightly breathless, "is that we can incorporate some of your ideas too. That response time improvement? With a few tweaks, we can make it work without compromising the structural integrity."

He was quiet for a long moment, something you thought was impossible, his red eyes boring into you. You met his gaze steadily, even if you were sure he could explode you with his eyes.

People couldn't just get new quirks right? He couldn't blow you up with his eyes, right?

"How long?"

"Excuse me?"

"How long to make all these fucking changes?" he snapped.

Good question but God did he need to be so snappy about it?

"Given the extent of the work... two weeks, minimum. Probably closer to three."

Bakugo scowled. "Too fucking long. I need them for patrol."

You shook your head. "Sorry, not happening, Dynamight. These gauntlets aren't safe in their current condition. I won't rush the job and risk your safety."

He eyed you like you just kicked an old lady. "The fuck did you say?"

Fuck this guy and that tone of his.

"You heard me. I won't half-ass this job just because you're impatient. You want these gauntlets fixed and improved? Then you'll give me the time I need to do it right."

Hold your ground, damn it! Don't you dare give in!

For a tense moment, you though he might actually attack you. He could probably get away with murder, that is if there was still a body behind. But then, to your surprise, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Fine," he growled. "Three weeks. But they better be fucking perfect when you're done."

And you live another day.

"Trust me, Dynamight. When I'm done with these, they'll be more than perfect. They'll be explosive."

#fanfic #mha x reader #mha fanfiction #pro hero bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou #pro heroes #fem reader #reader insert #boku no hero academia

19 notes · View notes

littlesweetchurro · 1 year ago

Text

Malfunctioned

Chapter 3

Bakugou slouched in his seat at the izakaya, scowling at his drink as if it had personally offended him. The noise of the crowded restaurant grated on his nerves, but it was marginally better than being alone with his anger.

He needed a drink and after the fucking week he had.

"I swear, there's not a single fucking useful person in this entire city," he growled, slamming his glass down on the table. The sudden movement caused Kirishima, who was sitting next to him to pick up his drink before it spilled.

"Whoa, man," Kirishima said, raising his hands. "What's got you so worked up this time?"

Bakugou's scowl deepened. "My fucking gauntlets. They're not working right, and I can't find anyone competent enough to fix them properly."

Mina leaned forward, her pink skin practically glowing in the dim light of the izakaya. "Have you tried the support company that made them originally?"

"Of course I fucking have," Bakugou snapped. "Those idiots couldn't find their ass with both hands and a map. They're the ones who fucked it up in the first place."

Sero chuckled and smiled. "Maybe you should design your own support gear, Bakugou. You're smart enough."

"I'm a hero, not a fucking tech nerd. That's what support companies are for, but apparently, they're all staffed by incompetent morons."

Denki, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, suddenly perked up. "Oh! What about that tech who worked on my support item? She did an amazing job with my wristband."

"What tech?"

"You know, the one from that small support company... Tech Nexus Solutions, I think?" Denki said, scratching his head. "She's really good. Fixed up my gear and even made some improvements I didn't know I needed."

Bakugou's eyebrows shot up, his interest piqued. He'd never admit it, but finding someone competent enough to work on his gear was becoming a real pain in the ass.

Mina's eyes sparkled as she leaned across the table. "Oh? And was this before or after you tried to sleep with her, Denki?"

The electric hero shrugged, smirking. "It didn't work. She's too professional. My charm had no effect on her."

Bakugou snorted. "What fucking charm?"

"Hey!" Denki protested, puffing out his chest. "I'll have you know I can get any woman into my bed!"

Sero burst out laughing, nearly choking on his drink. "Except tech girl, apparently!"

The table erupted in laughter, even Bakugou's lips twitching into something that might have been a smirk.

"Whatever," Denki grumbled, slumping in his seat. "She's still the best tech I've worked with. Seriously though, she's really talented. I've heard she's becoming pretty popular because of her work. It's kind of surprising she's still working for such a small company."

Bakugou' leaned back in his seat, trying to look uninterested. "So what's so great about this chick? She some kind of genius or something?"

Denki shook his head. "I don't know if I'd say genius, but she's definitely skilled. She completely redesigned the circuitry in my wristband to make it more efficient. And get this - she even added a feature that helps me control the direction of my electricity better. I didn't even know that was possible!"

If this tech was as good as Dunce Face claimed, maybe she could actually fix his gauntlets. But he wasn't about to get his hopes up just yet.

"What's her name?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

Denki furrowed his brow, thinking. "Uh... I can't remember her full name. But I know everyone just calls her by her first name. It's... damn, what was it?"

Mina giggled. "Wow, Denki, you really made an impression on her, huh?"

"Shut up," Denki grumbled. "I told you, it wasn't like that. She was just really focused on the work."

Bakugou's patience was wearing thin. "Oi, Pikachu, focus. What else do you know about her?"

"Well, she's got a reputation for being able to handle difficult clients. I heard she even managed to calm down Rubber Man when he was throwing a fit about his costume."

Bakugou snorted. Rubber Man was notorious for being a pain in the ass to work with. If this tech could handle him, maybe she'd be able to deal with his... particular communication style.

"She's also really innovative," Denki added. "Like, she doesn't just fix things, she improves them. Makes them work better with your quirk, you know?"

Bakugou nodded slowly. His gauntlets were good, but they could be better. If this tech was as skilled as Denki claimed, maybe she could take his gear to the next level.

"Anything else?" he pressed.

Kirishima raised an eyebrow at him. "You seem pretty interested, Bakugou. Thinking of giving her a shot with your gauntlets?"

Bakugou scowled. "I'm just gathering information, Shitty Hair. Don't read too much into it."

But the truth was, he was interested. More than interested. For the first time in weeks, he felt a glimmer of hope that his gear problems might actually be solved.

"Look," Denki said, pulling out his phone. "I don't remember her name, but I've got the contact info for Tech Nexus Solutions. Want me to send it to you?"

Bakugou hesitated for a moment, then nodded curtly. "Yeah, whatever. Might as well check it out."

As Denki tapped away on his phone, Bakugou tried to quash the spark of excitement building in his chest. He'd been disappointed too many times before to get his hopes up now. But still... if this tech was half as good as Dunce Face made her out to be, she might just be exactly what he needed.

His phone buzzed with the incoming message, and Bakugou found himself actually looking forward to making a call in the morning.

You were in your own little world working on Rubber Man's support gear modifications when a knock at your workshop door pulled your attention away. Looking up, you saw Aiko Nakamura, the Director of Tech Development, standing in the doorway with an unreadable expression on her face.

That wasn't good.

"Got a minute?" she asked, her tone serious.

Oh shit, definitely not good. Had you done something wrong? Had you messed up? Your stomach turned. Oh God, were you about to get fired? Did you have to cancel all your subscriptions? Put a pin on your emotional shopping habits?

You nodded, setting aside your tools. "Of course, what's up?"

Nakamura stepped inside, closing the door behind her. "I've got some news that's going to change things around here." She paused, building the suspense. "Dynamight is coming to Tech Nexus. And he's asked for you specifically."

Okay, good news, you were not getting fired today!

Wait- what did she say?

Your eyes widened, your heart rate picking up. "Dynamight? Like the number two hero?" Wait what?! "And he asked for me? Why?"

Nakamura shrugged. "Apparently, he's heard about your work. Your reputation precedes you."

You smiled. Working with Dynamight would be a massive opportunity, but it wasn't the hero himself that excited you. "His gauntlets," you breathed, your mind already racing with possibilities. "They're a marvel of engineering. The way they store and amplify his quirk is nothing short of genius."

Nakamura nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "I thought you might say that. But I have to warn you, Dynamight isn't exactly known for being... easy to work with."

"I can handle difficult clients. You've seen me with Rubber Man."

"This is different," Nakamura cautioned. "Dynamight has a reputation for being... explosive, both literally and figuratively. He's driven three support techs to quit in the past year alone."

"Is that supposed to scare me off? Because it's having the opposite effect."

Nakamura chuckled. "I had a feeling you'd say that. Just... be prepared. This isn't just about you, you know. Landing Dynamight as a client would be a major win for Tech Nexus. We're talking increased visibility, more high-profile contracts, the works."

Right no pressure, no room for fuck ups.

All you had to do was suck it up and get your hands on those amazing gauntlets.

Simple, easy.

Your smile widened.

"I won't let you down," you promised. And you wouldn't. Not when you knew a chance to work with equipment like this came once in a life time. Even if that opportunity came attached to a blonde bomb.

"I know you won't," Nakamura said, smiling. "Dynamight will be here tomorrow afternoon. I suggest you start preparing."

As soon as Nakamura left, you sprang into action. You cleared your workbench, pushing Rubber Man's gear to the side. Screw him and his flexible limbs. This was too important to let anything else distract you.

You pulled up every bit of information you could find on Dynamight's gauntlets. You pored over schematics, material specifications, and performance data, your mind whirling with ideas for potential improvements.

The gauntlets were indeed a work of art, but you could already see areas where they could be refined. The nitroglycerin storage system could be more efficient, the ignition mechanism more responsive. You scribbled notes furiously, your excitement growing with each passing minute.

You barely noticed as the hours ticked by, your focus entirely on preparing for Dynamight's arrival. You reviewed footage of his recent battles, analyzing how he used his support gear in combat situations. You made lists of questions to ask, eager to delve into the nitty-gritty details of his equipment.

As night fell, you realized you hadn't eaten since lunch. Your stomach growled in protest, but you ignored it, too engrossed in your preparations to care about something as trivial as food.

You pulled up Dynamight's hero file, studying his quirk specifications and battle statistics. The raw power he wielded was staggering, and you found yourself marveling at the technical challenges his quirk presented. How to harness that explosive force without compromising safety or mobility? It was a delicious puzzle, one you couldn't wait to sink your teeth into.

You were so absorbed in your work that you didn't notice your coworkers leaving for the day, or the cleaning staff coming and going. It wasn't until the first rays of dawn began to peek through the windows that you realized you'd pulled an all-nighter.

Stretching, you felt a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. Your desk was covered in notes, sketches, and half-formed ideas. You'd done all you could to prepare, and now all that was left was to meet the man himself.

And his beautiful gauntlets.

As you gathered your things to head home for a quick shower and change of clothes, a small part of you wondered if you were in over your head. Dynamight's reputation was intimidating, to say the least. But then you looked at the schematics of his gauntlets, at the notes you'd made, and your confidence returned.

You could handle Dynamight. You were sure of it. After all, you weren't some starstruck fan or easily cowed technician. You were a professional, damn good at your job, and more than ready for this challenge.

As you left the office, the rising sun painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, you couldn't help but smile. Today was going to be interesting, to say the least. And you couldn't wait to get started.

#fanfic #mha x reader #mha fanfiction #pro hero bakugou #bakugou #pro heroes #bakugou katsuki #mha #boku no hero academia #fem reader

19 notes · View notes

littlesweetchurro · 1 year ago

Text

Malfunctioned

Chapter Two

Bakugou

Bakugou's fist slammed into the wall. The receptionist squeaked, her eyes wide.

"What the fuck do you mean, 'standard solutions'?" He snarled, looming over the desk. "Did you not hear a goddamn word I said?"

The woman—Bakugou hadn't bothered to learn her name—stammered something unintelligible. Her gaze darted around the room, looking anywhere but at the fuming hero in front of her.

Bakugou's teeth ground together. This was the third fucking support company he'd visited today, and his patience was hanging by a thread.

The first had been a joke. A bunch of starry-eyed idiots more interested in getting his autograph than actually fixing his gear. He'd stormed out after ten minutes, leaving behind a room full of singed eyebrows and bruised egos.

The second... Christ, the second had been even worse. He'd tried to play nice, really he had. But then they'd started talking about "upgrades" and "premium packages." As if he needed their overpriced bullshit. He'd made his opinion on that quite clear. Last he'd seen, they were still trying to put out the fire in their demo room.

And now this place. He'd had high hopes for this one. They came highly recommended, supposedly the best in the business. But so far, all he'd gotten was the same cookie-cutter crap as everywhere else.

"Listen here," Bakugou growled, leaning in close. The receptionist flinched back, the scent of his nitroglycerin sweat filling the air. "I need someone who can fix my gear. Not slap a band-aid on it, not sell me some fancy new toy. Fix. It. Is there anyone in this goddamn building capable of doing that?"

The woman's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Bakugou's lip curled in disgust. Pathetic.

"I-I'll get the manager," she finally squeaked out.

Bakugou straightened, crossing his arms over his chest. "About fucking time."

As the receptionist scurried away, Bakugou paced the lobby like a caged animal. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the sleek furniture and modern art. All style, no substance. Just like everything else in this place.

He caught sight of his reflection in a polished chrome sculpture. His hair was a mess, more wild than usual. Dark circles shadowed his eyes. And there, just visible above his collar, was a thin scar from where a villain had gotten too close during his last patrol.

Bakugou's jaw clenched. He needed his gauntlets.

The sound of approaching footsteps pulled him from his thoughts. A man in an expensive suit strode towards him, plastering on a fake smile that made Bakugou's skin crawl.

"Dynamight, sir! It's an honor to have you here. I'm Tanaka, the head of our R&D department. I understand you're having some issues with your support gear?"

Bakugou's eyes narrowed. This fucker better not be another waste of his time.

"Yeah, you could say that," he growled. "My gauntlets aren't firing right. Misfires, weak blasts, the whole nine yards. I need it fixed, and I need it fixed yesterday."

Tanaka nodded, his smile never wavering. "Of course, of course. We'd be happy to take a look. Perhaps you'd like to come back to our lab? We have some exciting new prototypes that might interest you—"

"Did I fucking stutter?" Bakugou cut him off, his voice dangerously low. "I don't want your new shit. I want my gear fixed."

Tanaka's smile faltered for a moment before snapping back into place. "Ah, yes, of course. Well, why don't you show me the problem, and we'll see what we can do?"

Bakugou grunted, reaching into the duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He pulled out his gauntlets, slamming them onto a nearby coffee table hard enough to make the magazines scatter.

"There," he said, gesturing to the scorched and dented equipment. "Firing mechanism's fucked. Calibration's off. And the blast radius is all over the place."

Tanaka leaned in, examining the gauntlets with a furrowed brow. "Hmm, I see. These are quite... unique. Custom-made, I assume?"

Bakugou's eye twitched. "No shit. You think I'd wear some off-the-rack crap?"

"Of course not," Tanaka said smoothly. "It's just, well, our technicians might have some difficulty with such a specialized piece of equipment. Perhaps it would be easier if we started from scratch? We have some excellent new designs that—"

"For the last fucking time," Bakugou roared, his patience finally snapping, "I don't want your shitty new designs! I want these fixed!"

Fucks sake!

Was he fucking speaking German?

Tanaka took a step back, his practiced smile finally cracking.

"Now, now, there's no need for that kind of language," he said, holding up his hands placatingly. "I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement. Why don't we discuss this in my office?"

Bakugou's hands sparked, small explosions popping in his palms. "The only thing we're going to discuss is how quickly you can get someone competent to look at my gear."

Tanaka's eyes darted nervously to Bakugou's hands, then to the exit. "I... I'm not sure we have anyone available at the moment who could handle such a complex—"

"Bullshit," Bakugou snarled. He took a step forward, relishing the way Tanaka flinched. "You're supposed to be the best in the business. Are you telling me that was all talk?"

Sweat beaded on Tanaka's forehead. "N-no, of course not. It's just, well, custom work like this requires a certain level of expertise, and—"

"And what?" Bakugou's voice was quiet now, deadly calm. "You don't have that expertise? Is that what you're saying?"

Tanaka's mouth opened and closed, no sound coming out. Bakugou could practically see the wheels turning in his head, trying to find a way out of this situation without admitting defeat.

Bakugou's lip curled in disgust. He'd seen enough.

Without another word, he snatched up his gauntlets and shoved them back into his bag. He turned on his heel, stalking towards the exit.

"Wait!" Tanaka called after him. "Perhaps we could—"

The door slammed shut behind Bakugou, cutting off whatever pathetic offer Tanaka had been about to make.

Outside, Bakugou took a deep breath of the cool evening air. His hands were still smoking, small pops and crackles echoing in the quiet street.

Three companies. Three fucking failures.

You

Monday morning arrived with a vengeance, bringing with it a pounding headache and the harsh reality of your job at Tech Nexus Solutions. You dragged yourself to work, praying for an easy day to nurse your hangover. The universe, however, had other plans.

"Hey!" your coworker Hana called out as soon as you entered the office. "Mr. Morita is on the warpath. He's demanding changes to his support gear... again."

You groaned, rubbing your temples. Mr. Morita, aka Rubber Man was proving to be a notoriously difficult client, a minor pro-hero with an inflated ego and a penchant for nitpicking every detail of his gear. "What is it this time?" you asked, dreading the answer.

"He says the material isn't breathable enough and the color is off by two shades," Hana replied, wincing sympathetically.

"Of course it is," you answered.

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself for the impending confrontation.

The vane of your existence was calling people, you hated making phone calls. Why couldn't you just send an email? But no, you had to put on your big girl pants and be professional.

You grunted.

You dialed Rubber Man's number, putting on your most professional voice. "Good morning, Mr. Morita. I understand you have some concerns about your gear?"

What followed was a twenty-minute tirade about the supposedly subpar quality of his suit. You listened patiently, jotting down notes and occasionally interjecting with clarifying questions. When he finally paused for breath, you seized your opportunity.

"Mr. Morita," you began, in your most professional voice, "I appreciate your attention to detail. However, I must remind you that the material we used was specifically chosen for its durability and flexibility, which are crucial for your quirk. As for the color, I have the approved shade right here in front of me, and I can assure you it's exactly as specified."

"But it doesn't feel right!" he spluttered, making you wonder who, what single individual had been responsible for his fucking huge ego. His mom probably.

You smirked, thankful he couldn't see your expression over the phone. "Feeling right and being right are two different things, Mr. Morita. Perhaps what you're experiencing is the natural breaking-in period for new gear. I suggest giving it a week of regular use. If you're still unsatisfied, we can schedule a fitting to address any specific areas of discomfort."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. You held your breath, hoping your blend of logic and compromise would appease him.

"Fine. One week. But if I'm not satisfied, I expect immediate action."

"Of course, Mr. Morita. Your satisfaction is our top priority," you replied smoothly, hoping your customer service voice was on point today. "Is there anything else I can help you with today?"

After assuring him once more that his concerns were being taken seriously, you ended the call, exhaling loudly.

"Nicely handled," Hana said, impressed. "I thought he was going to demand a complete redesign."

You grinned, feeling a sense of accomplishment. "Sometimes you just need to speak their language. A little flattery, a dash of logic, and a sprinkle of standing your ground." You stood up and stretched trying to relieve the kink your neck. "You know all standards when dealing with heroes."

As the morning wore on, you found yourself in need of a caffeine boost. You made your way to the break room, hoping a strong cup of coffee would chase away the last vestiges of your hangover.

"Did you hear? Dynamight is looking for a new support company!"

Your ears perked up at the mention of the explosive hero. Dynamight, also known as Katsuki Bakugou, was one of the top heroes in Japan. Working with him would be a massive opportunity for any support company.

"Are you serious?" another voice chimed in. "That would be huge for us if we could land that contract!"

"Yeah, but can you imagine dealing with his temper? I heard he made his last support tech cry."

You freeze, coffee forgotten as you strain to hear more. You really didn't like gossip, not really, well maybe you did like it a bit when it wasn't about you.

"I heard he actually set fire to the last company's prototype room," someone says in a hushed tone.

You rolled your eyes. Typical hero gossip, probably exaggerated. Probably. Though you really couldn't be sure when it came to the explosive hero. Dynamight's temper was legendary, but so is his prowess as a hero. Working with him would be the opportunity of a lifetime.

"Can you imagine trying to work with that? He'd probably blast you across the room if you suggested an improvement."

You snorted quietly.

"His gauntlets are a work of art, though," someone mused. "The way they store his sweat and amplify his explosions is genius."

"True, but they're also incredibly complex. One wrong move and they could malfunction catastrophically."

You found yourself nodding in agreement. Dynamight's gauntlets were indeed impressive, a perfect example of how support gear could enhance a hero's natural abilities. The thought of working on such advanced equipment sent a thrill of excitement through you.

"Who do you think they'll assign to his account if we get it?" one of your coworkers asked.

"It'll have to be someone who can handle the pressure. And his attitude," another replied with a chuckle.

You took that as your cue to enter the break room, pretending and failing like you hadn't heard a thing. "Morning, everyone," you said casually, making a beeline for the coffee machine.

Your colleagues greeted you, their conversation shifting to more mundane topics. As you prepared your coffee, your mind raced with possibilities. Working with Dynamight would be challenging, no doubt, but it could also be the opportunity of a lifetime.

You returned to your desk, sipping your coffee thoughtfully. The idea of designing support gear for one of the top heroes in the country was exhilarating. Sure, Dynamight had a reputation for being difficult, but you'd just proven your ability to handle demanding clients.

You could do, you knew you could.

A small, ambitious, prideful part of you wondered knew you'd be perfect for the challenge. After all, if you could talk down Mr. Morita, how much worse could the explosive hero be?

Little did you know, you were about to find out exactly how much worse it could be.

#fanfic #mha x reader #mha fanfiction #bakugou katsuki #pro hero bakugou #pro heroes #fem reader #reader insert #boku no hero academia

11 notes · View notes

littlesweetchurro · 1 year ago

Text

Malfunctioned

When Dynamight's gauntlets malfunctioned two things happened:

1. You were 1000% sure you were going to end a crispy support engineer because you couldn't keep your mouth closed. 2. You must have been going through some caffeine induced trance because you might actually have a crush on Bakugou Kaksuki.

Dynamight's smirk didn't fade, much to your mortification. "Fine. But don't think I didn't notice you checking me out, nerd. I might have to start charging admission."

You groaned, eyes glued to the screen. How in God's good name did you get here?

Chapter One:

Bakugou

Bakugou's boots pounded the pavement, his eyes scanning the streets below. Perched on a rooftop, he surveyed the streets. The setting sun cast long shadows across the city, perfect cover for the scum that crawled out after dark.

His fingers twitched. Sweat beaded on his palms, ready to ignite. It had been too damn quiet lately. He needed some action, needed to blow something up.

"Come on, you bastards," he growled. "Give me a reason."

A flicker of movement caught his eye. Down in an alley, three figures huddled around a fourth. Bakugou grinned. Showtime.

He launched himself off the roof, using controlled explosions to guide his descent. The rush of freefall sent adrenaline surging through his veins. This was what he lived for.

Bakugou landed with a resounding boom, concrete cracking under his feet. The thugs whirled along with the man they had caught in the streets.

"D-Dynamight!" The nearly-bold man exclaimed.

The thugs' eyes darted around the alleyway looking for an escape, when they found none, they dropped the middle-aged salaryman.

"Beat it," Bakugou ordered the portly man, who simply nodded and scrambled away.

"Well, well," Bakugou sneered, rising to his full height. "What do we have here? A bunch of fucking pathetic losers."

He took in the scene with a practiced eye. Three villains, probably small-time. The one on the left, a hulking brute with arms like tree trunks. Likely some kind of strength enhancement quirk. Center, a weaselly looking fucker with unnaturally long fingers. Those nails looked sharp—some kind of claw quirk? And on the right, a twitchy bastard whose skin seemed to shimmer and shift. Camouflage, maybe?

"Dynamight!" The leader, Claws, hissed. "We ain't done nothin' wrong!"

Bakugou's lip curled. "Yeah? Then why's that guy running like his ass is on fire?" He jerked his chin toward the fleeing civilian. "Face it, you third-rate villains. You're fucked."

Muscles cracked his knuckles. "Big talk for one hero against the three of us."

"Three?" Bakugou laughed, harsh and mocking. "I could take you extras down with both hands tied behind my back!"

He raised his gauntlets, savoring the familiar weight. One good blast would send these losers flying.

"Any last words before I turn you into smoking craters?"

Claws snarled and lunged forward. Bakugou's finger tightened on the trigger.

Nothing happened.

For a split second, Bakugou froze. What the fuck? He squeezed again. A pathetic puff of smoke wheezed from the barrel.

"Shit!"

Bakugou barely had time to dodge as Claws swiped at his face. Those razor-sharp nails whistled past his ear, slicing off a few strands of hair.

Fucking shit.

The fucking gauntlets were malfunctioning. Again. He was going to murder that glasses son of a bitch when he got back to the agency.

No time to dwell on it now. He'd just have to do this the old-fashioned way.

Bakugou's grin turned feral. "Alright, you want to do this up close and personal? Fine by me!"

He ducked under another swipe from Claws and drove his fist into the villain's solar plexus. As Claws doubled over, gasping, Bakugou grabbed his arm and used the momentum to hurl him into Muscles.

The two villains collided with a satisfying crunch. But where was the third?

A flicker in his peripheral vision was all the warning he got. Bakugou threw himself to the side as Camouflage materialized, swinging a length of pipe.

The makeshift weapon clanged against the alley wall. Bakugou rolled to his feet, hands already sparking.

"That the best you got?" He taunted. "My dead grandmother hits harder than you!"

Camouflage's form shimmered, starting to fade. Ah nah, fucker. Bakugou slammed his palms together, creating a concussive blast that filled the alley with smoke and debris.

A hacking cough gave away Camouflage's position. Bakugou lunged, tackling the now-visible villain to the ground. A few well-placed explosions, and Camouflage was out cold.

Movement behind him. Bakugou whirled just in time to see Muscles charging, meaty fists raised.

Time seemed to slow. Bakugou's combat instincts took over. He waited until the last possible second, then dropped and swept Muscles' legs out from under him. As the villain stumbled, Bakugou planted both hands on his chest.

"Die!" He roared, letting loose with the biggest explosion he could muster.

Was it over kill? Yeah. But he was too angry to give a fuck.

Muscles flew backward, smashing into a dumpster with bone-jarring force. He slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Claws, the only one left standing, looked from his fallen comrades to the snarling hero. His nerve broke. He turned to run.

"Oh no you don't!" Bakugou snarled. He pressed the triggers on his gauntlets, muscle memory taking over. Nothing. Useless piece of shit!

With a growl of frustration, Bakugou launched himself forward. One hand latched onto Claws' jacket. The other ignited, sending them both tumbling to the ground in a controlled blast.

Bakugou landed on top, pinning the struggling villain. "Stay down if you know what's good for you," he growled.

Claws went limp.

"That's what I thought."

Bakugou stood, surveying the destruction around him. The alley looked like a war zone. Scorch marks blackened the walls, and the dumpster Muscles had hit was crumpled like a tin can.

Not bad for hand-to-hand. But it should have been easier. Those gauntlets were designed to concentrate and amplify his explosions. He could have easily finished the scum with one blast.

He raised one arm, squeezing the trigger again. Nothing but an anemic spark.

"Fuck!" Bakugou slammed his fist against the wall. This was the third time in as many weeks that his support gear had malfunctioned. It was getting beyond a joke.

He needed those gauntlets. Sure, he could fight without them—he'd just proved that. But against a real threat? A high-level villain? That malfunction could get him killed.

Bakugou's jaw clenched. He knew exactly who to blame for this clusterfuck. That smug bastard in Support. The one who kept insisting he knew better than him what he needed.

He'd told him the calibration was off. Told him the firing mechanism was sticking. But the fucking nerd had the nerve to tell him it was normal.

Bakugou's blood boiled. He was the number two hero, for fuck's sake! He deserved better than this second-rate crap.

Bakugou activated his comm, barking orders for a police pickup. As he secured the villains, his mind raced with all the choice words he had for a certain support technician.

"Get the fuck out of my way!"

Bakugou's snarl sent interns scattering like roaches. Good. He was in no mood for pleasantries.

The agency hallways blurred as he stormed through. His hands sparked and smoked, itching to wrap around a certain four-eyed bastard's throat.

He caught his reflection in a glass door. Blood-spattered. Uniform torn. Looking like he'd gone ten rounds with a meat grinder. All because that smug piece of shit couldn't do his fucking job.

Bakugou's lip curled. Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

The door to the support department exploded inward, nearly flying off its hinges. Startled yelps filled the air as techs dove for cover.

"Where is he?" Bakugou roared. His eyes scanned the room, locking onto his target. "You!"

Haruto's eyes went wide behind those stupid glasses. “D-Dynamight, sir! I wasn't expecting—"

"Shut it." Bakugou's voice dropped to a dangerous growl. He stalked forward, backing the other man against a workbench. "You want to explain to me why I just had to take down three villains with my bare fucking hands?"

"I-I'm not sure what you mean," Haruto stammered. That fake confusion only pissed Bakugou off more. "Did something happen with your gear?"

"Did something—" Bakugou's laugh was sharp enough to cut glass. "You're goddamn right something happened! These pieces of shit gauntlets you swore were 'working perfectly' didn't fire!"

He slammed the malfunctioning gear onto the bench. The impact left a dent in the metal surface.

Haruto flinched. "Now, now, I'm sure it's not as bad as all that. Perhaps you're exaggerating a bit? After all, you did defeat the villains..."

"Exaggerating?" Bakugou's voice went deadly quiet. The room temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. "You think I'm exaggerating ?"

He seized a fistful of Haruto's shirt, hauling him close. "Listen here, you arrogant fuck. I am the number two hero. When I go out there, lives are on the line. Mine, and the people I'm protecting. So when I tell you something's wrong with my gear, you fucking listen ."

Haruto's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. "O-of course, sir. I apologize if there was any misunderstanding. I'm sure we can sort this out—"

"Oh, we're way past 'sorting out,'" Bakugou snarled. He released Haruto with a shove, sending the man stumbling. "You're going to fix these gauntlets. Now."

"Fix them?" Haruto's eyes darted nervously to the damaged gear. "Well, you see, that might be a bit difficult. The, ah, the calibration is quite delicate, and—"

"I don't want excuses!" Bakugou's fist slammed into the workbench. The metal buckled. "I want results! Now fix the damn things before I lose what little patience I have left!"

Haruto's shoulders slumped. "I... I can't."

For a moment, Bakugou was sure he'd misheard. "What?"

"I can't fix them," Haruto repeated, voice barely above a whisper. "The truth is, I... I never fully understood how they worked in the first place. I've been trying to replicate the original design, but—"

"You what ?" The words came out as more of a roar than a question. Bakugou's vision went red. "You've been bullshitting this entire time?"

Haruto flinched. "I-I thought I could figure it out! I didn't want to admit—"

"You're fired."

Haruto's mouth opened and closed, no sound coming out.

"But... but sir, you can't—"

"I can, and I fucking well am." Bakugou's eyes blazed. "Pack your shit and get out. Now."

He turned to address the rest of the support staff, who were all doing their best to look invisible. "Any of you other extras know how to fix these?"

Silence. A sea of wide eyes and shaking heads.

"Un-fucking-believable." Bakugou ran a hand through his hair.

A thought struck him. It left a sour taste in his mouth, but desperate times and all that shit.

"Fine," he growled. "If you useless fucks can't handle it, we'll go to someone who can. Get me a list of the top support agencies in the area. Now!"

There was a flurry of movement as techs scrambled to comply. Bakugou's scowl deepened. He hated relying on outside help. But he'd be damned if he'd risk his life—or worse, his reputation—because of faulty equipment.

He'd find someone who could fix this mess. And when he did, they'd better be prepared for the highest standards in the business.

Bakugou's lips curled into a feral grin. Oh yes, he was going to put whatever poor bastard they found through absolute hell.

It was time to separate the extras from the real deal.

You

You stepped into your workshop, the familiar chaos of the space making you instantly smile. The room was a jumble of organized disorder, with workbenches cluttered with half-finished projects and shelves lined with an eclectic array of tools and components. Holographic displays flickered in the air, projecting schematics and data readouts that cast a soft blue glow over the room.

You made your way to your primary workstation, carefully navigating around a precariously balanced tower of circuit boards and a robotic arm that was in the middle of some much-needed maintenance. The air hummed with the soft whir of cooling fans and the occasional spark from a nearby soldering station.

As you settled into your chair, you pulled on a pair of magnifying goggles and picked up a set of micro-precision tools. Before you lay Chargebolt's support item - a circular mechanism designed to be worn on his wrist. It was an intricate piece of technology, meant to aid the pro hero in aiming his Quirk by shooting disc-shaped Pointers.

You lost yourself in the work, your hands moving as you carefully adjusted the internal components. Your fingers danced over the delicate circuitry, tweaking and fine-tuning with a level of precision that came from years of experience. The world around you faded away.

"How's it coming along?"

The voice startled you out of your concentration. You looked up to see Ryoichi Kuroda, your colleague and fellow electronics specialist, peering over your shoulder with interest.

You leaned back, stretching out the kink in your neck. "Pretty well, actually. I think I've managed to increase the accuracy of the Pointers by about 15%."

Kuroda's eyebrows shot up. "Impressive. Chargebolt's going to be thrilled."

You smirked, unable to keep the smug pride out of your voice. "Well, he should be. I've been working on this thing for weeks."

Kuroda pulled up a chair, his eyes fixed on the mechanism. "Mind if I take a look?"

You shrugged, sliding the device over to him. "Be my guest. I could use a fresh pair of eyes."

As Kuroda examined your work, you found yourself explaining the modifications you'd made. "See, I've recalibrated the targeting system to account for atmospheric conditions. It should help Chargebolt aim more accurately, even in less-than-ideal weather."

Kuroda nodded. "Clever. But won't that put more strain on the power source?"

You grinned, reaching for a small component on your desk. "That's where this comes in. It's a new type of micro-battery I've been developing. Twice the power in half the size."

Kuroda whistled. "You've really outdone yourself this time."

You smiled. It was nice to have your hard work recognized, especially by someone as talented as Kuroda. "Thanks. But I'm not done yet. I still need to run some final tests before I'm ready to hand it over to Chargebolt."

Kuroda handed the device back to you. "Well, if anyone can pull it off, it's you. Just don't forget to eat and sleep occasionally, okay?"

You rolled your eyes, but there was no real annoyance behind it. "Yes, Mom. I promise I won't work myself to death."

As Kuroda chuckled and stood to leave, you turned back to your work. Your fingers itched to get back to the delicate circuitry.

You were so engrossed in your task that you barely noticed the hours slipping by. The workshop around you gradually emptied as your colleagues headed home for the day, but you stayed, determined to finish just one more adjustment.

It wasn't until your stomach growled loudly that you finally looked up, blinking in surprise at the darkened room around you. You glanced at the clock and groaned. It was well past midnight.

With a sigh, you carefully set aside Chargebolt's support item and began tidying up your workspace. As much as you wanted to keep working, you knew you needed to get some rest.

You trudged into the izakaya, tired but damned grateful to grab a beer. Mai was already there, waving enthusiastically from a corner booth. You slid in across from her.

The lighting in this place was crap, it made the dark circles under your eyes 10 times worse, but it was cheap and good. And there was no way you would skip on good and cheap food just because the lighting made you look crappier than normal.

"Rough day?" Mai asked, pushing a cold beer towards you.

You took a long swig before answering. "Just busy. This new project for Chargebolt is kicking my ass."

Mai's eyes lit up. "Ooh, tell me more! What are you working on?"

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "It's a redesign of his wristband. We're trying to improve the aim assist for his Pointers. The tricky part is balancing the electrical output without frying the circuitry."

"Sounds complicated," Mai said, her brow furrowing.

You snorted. "That's putting it mildly. I've been knee-deep in schematics for weeks."

Mia nodded and took a sip of her drink. "You should be knees-deep between someone's legs, not with some project."

You laughed, "I wish."

Just then, a commotion near the entrance caught your attention. A tall, armored figure had walked in, and the entire izakaya erupted in excited whispers.

"Oh my god," Mai gasped, gripping your arm. "Is that Ingenium?"

You glanced over, confirming it was indeed the speed hero. "Yep, looks like it."

Mai was practically vibrating with excitement. "We should go say hi! Or get an autograph! Or-"

You cut her off with a gentle pat on her hand. "Mai, relax. They're just people doing their job, same as us."

Mai's gaze snapped back to you, her eyes narrowing. " Just people? Are you kidding me? Have you seen them?" She leaned in, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Heroes are hot as fuck."

You snorted, nearly choking on your beer. "Seriously? That's what you're focused on?"

"Oh, don't act all high and mighty," Mai teased. "You can't tell me you've never thought about it. All those tight costumes, rippling muscles..."

You actually had thought about it, but your friend didn't need to know that. "I'm a professional, Mai. I don't ogle the people I work with."

"Bullshit," she said, grinning. "I've seen the way you look at Deku's ass when he's in the news."

You spluttered, indignant. "I do not-"

"Oh please," Mai cut you off. "It's okay to admit it. They're like walking wet dreams in spandex."

"Fine," you gave in. "Maybe they're... aesthetically pleasing. But that doesn't mean anything."

Mai's triumphant smirk made you want to crawl under the table. "Knew it." Her eyes were still tracking Ingenium as he made his way to a private booth.

"God, I bet he's fast in bed too. Can you imagine? Those powerful thrusts, over and over, until you're screaming his name." Her smirk grew "his real name that is, or maybe his super kinky and he likes it when girls call him by his hero name."

You groan, dropping your forehead to the sticky tabletop. Thank God Ingenium couldn't hear them over the bustle of fans. "Jesus, Mai. TMI."

She ignored you, lost in her fantasy. "I wonder if his stamina translates to other areas. He could probably go all night long."

"For fuck's sake," you muttered into the table. "Can we please talk about literally anything else?"

Mai's attention snapped back to you. "What's your problem? How are you not impressed by him? He's Ingenium! One of the top heroes in the country!"

You sit up, scrubbing a hand over your face. How do you explain that after years of working with heroes, the shine has worn off? That you've seen them at their worst - sweaty, bruised, and bitching about malfunctioning gear. That you know the unglamorous reality behind the carefully crafted public personas.

But more than that, how do you admit that there's only one green hero who gets your blood pumping these days?

You settled for a noncommittal shrug. "I guess I'm just not into the whole speed thing."

Mai's eyebrows shoot up. "Oh? And what exactly are you into, then?"

You take a long swig of beer, avoiding her knowing gaze. "Nothing. No one. Shut up."

Mai finally tore her gaze away from Ingenium, focusing back on you with a sly grin. "Speaking of seeing people... when are you going to get back out there? It's been ages since you've been on a date or gotten some for that matter."

"I get—" you started to protest.

Your friend rolled her eyes, "that doesn't count. You need to get railed," she took a swig of her beer, eyes drifting to the speed hero. "Or at least go out on a date."

"Not this again. I've told you, I don't have time for dating right now."

"You have to make time!" Mai insisted. "You can't just work all the time. What about that cute guy from accounting?"

"The one who thinks Excel is a type of turn-on? Hard pass."

Mai laughed, shaking her head. "Okay, fair. But seriously, you need to get out more."

"I'm out right now, aren't I?" you countered, wildly gesturing to the izakaya around you.

"With your best friend doesn't count," Mai said, rolling her eyes. "I mean real dates. Meeting new people. Having fun!"

You sighed dramatically. "Bold of you to assume I find other people fun."

Mai snorted into her drink. "God, you're impossible. Fine, be a hermit. More cute guys for me."

"I thought you were happy with Kenji," you teased.

Mai's eyes softened at the mention of her boyfriend. "I am. He's... he's really great, actually. We're talking about moving in together."

"Wow, that's a big step. Are you ready for that?"

Mai nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "I think so. It feels right, you know?"

You actually didn't know, not really, but you were happy for your friend. "That's awesome, Mai. I'm really glad you found someone who makes you happy."

"Thanks," Mai said, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. "I just want you to be happy too."

You squeezed back. "I am happy. I've got my work, my friends, what more do I need?"

Mai opened her mouth to argue, but was cut off by a sudden increase in volume from the TV mounted in the corner. You both turned to look, seeing the familiar explosive hero on screen.

"Breaking news," the anchor was saying, "Pro Hero Dynamight has just apprehended a group of villains attempting to rob the National Bank. Witnesses say the confrontation was over in minutes, with minimal damage to the surrounding area."

The screen cut to footage of Dynamight, looking typically surly as he spoke to the police. His costume was singed and there was a small cut on his cheek, but otherwise he seemed unharmed.

"Minimal damage?" you scoffed. "That's a first."

Mai elbowed you. "Come on, give him some credit. He's gotten a lot better at controlling collateral damage."

You had to admit she had a point. Dynamight had made significant strides in reining in his more… destructive tendencies over the years. Still, old habits died hard, and you found yourself rolling your eyes at his gruff demeanor on screen.

"I guess," you conceded. "But he's still an ass."

Mai laughed. "True. But a very effective ass." That smirk that let you know she was up to no good painted her face, "a very fine, tight ass."

You rolled your eyes and threw an edamame at her.

As the news moved on to other topics, you found your gaze lingering on the TV, your mind drifting to thoughts of explosive quirks and support gear. Maybe there was something in Dynamight's technique that could help with Chargebolt's design.

You shook your head, forcing yourself back to the present. This was supposed to be your night off, after all. You turned back to Mai who continued to not so subtly ogle Ingenium.

#fanfic #mha fanfiction #mha #bakugou katsuki #pro hero bakugou #pro heroes #mha x reader #fem reader #reader insert #boku no hero academia

32 notes · View notes

littlesweetchurro · 1 year ago

Text

Frayed Nerves

Chapter Nine

✨Summary: In the wake of the final battle, Hermione Granger is determined to restore Hogwarts. When she hears about a powerful restoration potion from a mysterious hag in Knockturn Alley, she takes a risky plunge. But after a magical mix-up leaves her and Viktor Krum with matching tattoos, they're forced to confront their growing feelings while searching for a way to reverse the potion’s effects.

✨Content: 18+ Loss of Virginity, NSFW

✨W.C: 4934

✨ Also on AO3

Hermione and Viktor approached the hag's hut. The journey back had been a blur of adrenaline and conflicting emotions. Now, standing on the threshold of potentially undoing the magical bond that had brought them together, she felt a strange mix of anticipation and reluctance.

The hag's cackling laughter greeted them as they entered the dimly lit cottage. "Well, well! Look who's back, and in one piece, too. I must say, I'm impressed."

Hermione stepped forward, holding out the delicate flowers. "We got what you asked for," she said. "Now, about the tattoos."

The old woman's eyes gleamed as she snatched the blooms from Hermione's hand. "Ah, yes. Beautiful specimens, these are. You've done well, dearies."

As the hag bustled about, gathering ingredients and muttering incantations, Hermione stole glances at Viktor.

Her mind drifted back to their close encounter in the hollow tree. She licked her lips as she recalled the press of Viktor's muscular chest against her body. The memory of his strong arms around her had goosebumps form on her skin.

She bit her lip, remembering how she'd felt his body responding to her closeness. The firm press of his growing arousal against her thigh had ignited something primal within her. Far from being scandalized, she'd found herself thrilled by his obvious desire.

A warm flush spread across Hermione's cheeks and down her neck as her body reacted to the vivid recollection. She shifted restlessly, aware of a growing ache between her thighs.

Viktor stood mere feet away, his broad shoulders and athletic build on full display as he conferred with the hag. Hermione's eyes traced the lines of his body hungrily. She imagined running her hands over his sculpted muscles, feeling his skin hot beneath her palms.

A daring thought flitted through her mind - what if they'd given in to temptation right there in that tree hollow? She pictured Viktor pressing her up against the rough bark, his strong hands roaming her body as he claimed her lips in a searing kiss.

Hermione pressed her thighs together, trying to quell the throbbing need building within her core. She wanted - no, needed - more. She craved the feel of Viktor's body moving against hers, inside her. The urge to drag him into the nearest secluded spot and have her wicked way with him was nearly overwhelming.

"Right then," the hag's raspy voice cut through Hermione's thoughts. "The potion's ready. One sip each should do the trick."

Hermione stared at the small vial of shimmering liquid the hag held out. This was it - the moment they'd been working towards. So why did she suddenly feel so hesitant?

"Before we do this," Hermione said, her voice barely above a whisper, "I need to know. Will this-- will it undo everything? The, the... feelings?"

The hag's wrinkled face softened slightly. "The potion will remove the tattoos, dearie. Nothing more, nothing less. As for the rest..." She glanced between Hermione and Viktor, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Well, that's entirely up to you two."

Hermione nodded, taking a deep breath. She turned to Viktor, searching his dark eyes for any sign of what he might be thinking. "Are you ready?" she asked.

Viktor's gaze was intense as he looked at her. "If this is vot you vant, Her-my-oh-knee, then I am ready."

With trembling hands, Hermione took the vial. She raised it to her lips, pausing for just a moment before taking a small sip. The liquid was cool on her tongue, tasting faintly of cherries. She passed the vial to Viktor, watching as he drank his share without hesitation.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a tingling sensation spread from Hermione's wrist, traveling up her arm. She looked down, watching in fascination as the elegant script of Viktor's name began to fade from her skin. Beside her, Viktor was examining his own wrist, where her name was similarly disappearing.

In a matter of seconds, it was done. The tattoos were gone, leaving behind unmarked skin as if they had never existed at all.

Hermione stared at her wrist, running her fingers over the spot where Viktor's name had been.

Hermione shivered as another gust of icy wind cut through her soaked robes. The magical storm had come out of nowhere, transforming the clear evening sky into a tempest of swirling purple clouds and crackling lightning. She squinted through the downpour, barely able to make out Viktor's broad shoulders as he forged ahead.

"There is a village over there," Viktor shouted over the howling wind, pointing to a cluster of lights in the distance.

Relief flooded through Hermione as they stumbled towards the faint glow of civilization. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably, her body trembling from the cold that seemed to seep into her very bones. As they drew closer, she could make out the outlines of quaint cottages and shops, their windows battened down against the raging storm.

A weathered sign swung violently in the wind, creaking on its hinges. "The Drunken Unicorn," Hermione read aloud, hope surging in her chest at the sight of the small inn.

They burst through the heavy wooden door, bringing a gust of wind and rain with them. The warmth of the inn's interior hit Hermione like a physical force, making her skin tingle as feeling slowly returned to her numb extremities.

A portly man with a bushy mustache looked up from behind the bar, his eyebrows rising at the sight of the two bedraggled travelers. "Blimey," he exclaimed, hurrying over with a stack of towels. "You two look like you've been through the wringer. Caught in the storm, eh?"

Hermione nodded gratefully as she accepted a towel, her fingers fumbling with the thick fabric as she tried to dry her face. "We didn't see it coming," she explained, her voice hoarse. "Is there any chance you have a room available for a couple of hours?"

The innkeeper's expression turned sympathetic. "Aye, that I do. But I'm afraid you've stumbled into more than just a bit of bad weather, miss. This here's a Tempest Storm - magical in nature. It'll rage all night, and it's not safe to travel until it passes."

"But we really should be getting back to Hogwarts."

"I wouldn't recommend it, miss. The roads are treacherous in this weather, and there are all sorts of nasty creatures that come out when the skies open up like this. No, you'd be best off staying put for the night."

Hermione exchanged a worried glance with Viktor. They hadn't planned on staying away from Hogwarts overnight. But one look at the raging storm outside the window made it clear they had little choice.

“Ve vill take the room."

Hermione reached for her coin purse but Viktor grabbed her wrist.

" No ," he commanded.

Hermione wanted to protest but Viktor's scowling face held her at bay. He'd never used that tone on her before and she liked it.

The innkeeper eyed them thoughtfully. "Well now, I only have one room left. A nice cozy little thing, perfect for a young couple like yourselves."

Hermione felt her cheeks flush at the implication, but before she could protest, Viktor was nodding. "That vill be fine," he said, reaching into his pocket for his coin purse.

The innkeeper nodded, retrieving a large iron key from behind the bar. "Right this way, then. I'll show you to your room."

As they followed the man up a creaking wooden staircase. She hadn't packed for an overnight stay. Would her transfiguration skills hold if she changed her clothes to PJs? Could she sleep in her clothes? Probably, but she didn't want to. It'd just serve as a reminder of running from Death Eaters in the middle of the night. What would people think when she and Viktor didn't return to the castle? Oh, Merlin. What was Ginny going to think? The last thing she needed was Ginny teasing her about spending the night with her "Bulgarian Bon-Bon." The thought of spending the night alone with Viktor sent a flutter of nervous excitement through her stomach.

The innkeeper pushed open a heavy oak door, revealing a cozy room lit by the warm glow of oil lamps. Hermione's eyes were immediately drawn to the large four-poster bed dominating the center of the room. The single bed. Any and all of her thoughts revolved around what they could do in that bed. Looking at it, it was pretty big.

"Here we are," the innkeeper said cheerfully, seemingly oblivious to the sudden tension in the air. "There's extra blankets in the chest if you need them. The bathroom's down the hall. If you need anything else, just give a shout."

With that, he handed Viktor the key and bustled back downstairs, leaving Hermione and Viktor alone in the quiet room.

Hermione stood unmoving, her eyes locked on the bed. One bed. For both of them. Her heart hammered in her chest as the implications sank in.

"I can sleep on the floor," Viktor offered quietly, breaking the silence.

Hermione turned to look at him, taking in his damp hair and the way his wet shirt clung to his muscular frame. The thought of him spending the night on the cold, hard floor made her chest tighten with guilt.

"Don't be ridiculous," she said, forcing a lightness into her tone that she didn't quite feel. "The bed's plenty big enough for both of us. We're both adults, after all."

Viktor's dark eyes searched her face for a moment before he nodded. "If you are sure," he said softly.

Hermione swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way her pulse quickened at the thought of sharing a bed with Viktor. "Of course," she said, her voice only slightly higher than normal. "It's just sleeping, after all."

"If you say so."

Hermione's breath caught as Viktor's eyes raked over her, dark and intense.

"Ve should get out of these vet clothes,"

Hermione blushed. "I... what?"

A hint of a smirk played at the corner of Viktor's mouth. "So ve do not get sick," he clarified, his tone innocent. But then his eyes glinted mischievously. "Vot vere you thinking, Her-my-oh-knee?"

Hermione's blush deepened. "Nothing! I just... I'll go change in the bathroom."

She turned to flee, but Viktor's hand on her arm stopped her. "I could help," he offered, his voice low.

Hermione's heart thundered in her chest. She knew she should say no, that this was a line they shouldn't cross. But the memory of their night in the library, of Viktor's hands on her body, sent a thrill of desire through her.

"I... yes," she whispered.

Viktor's eyebrows shot up, genuine surprise flickering across his usually stoic features. He took a step closer, his body radiating heat. "Are you sure?" he asked softly.

Hermione met his gaze, understanding the weight of the question. If she said yes now, there would be no going back. They would cross that line, and everything would change. This time there was no potion to blame.

She nodded.

"Okay." He smirked again, that playful glint returning. "Then let me help," he murmured.

His fingers found the clasps of her robes, slowly unfastening them. As he pushed the heavy fabric from her shoulders, his lips brushed against her neck.

"Beautiful," he murmured against her skin. "So beautiful, kote."

"W-What does that mean? You kept saying it…" her cheeks warmed even more. "The other night."

"Kitten."

"Oh," she breathed out. Viktor's hands slid under her jumper, his calloused palms warm against her stomach. He pulled the garment over her head, his eyes darkening as they roamed over her exposed skin.

"Perfect," he breathed, leaning in to press a kiss to her collarbone.

Heat pooled in Hermione's belly. Her fingers itched to touch him, to explore the muscular body.

"Can I..." she started, then swallowed hard. "Can I take yours off too?"

Viktor caught her hands in his, bringing them to his lips. He kissed each fingertip reverently. "You can do votever you vant vith me," he said, his voice rough with want.

With trembling fingers, Hermione pushed Viktor's robes from his shoulders. She tugged his shirt over his head, revealing the chiseled planes of his chest and abdomen. Her hands roamed over his skin, marveling at the hard muscle.

Soon, they stood before each other, completely bare. Hermione's eyes widened as she took in Viktor's naked form. His body was a work of art, all lean muscle and smooth skin. Her gaze dropped lower, heat flooding her cheeks as she saw his impressive member.

Viktor's fingers ghosted over her breasts, making her gasp. He stepped closer, and Hermione felt the hot, hard length of his cock against her stomach. She ached to touch him, to wrap her hand around it.

As if reading her mind, Viktor took her hand and guided it to his cock. Hermione wrapped her fingers around him, marveling at the contrast of velvet-soft skin over steel-hard flesh. She stroked him experimentally, drawing a deep groan from Viktor's throat.

Encouraged, Hermione continued her explorations. She trailed her fingers along his length, cupped his heavy balls in her palm. Viktor's breathing grew ragged, his hips rocking slightly into her touch.

"Her-my-own-ninny," he groaned. "You are driving me mad."

Hermione looked up at him through her lashes, a small smile playing at her lips. But then Viktor stepped back, breaking contact.

"You should shower," he said, his voice rough. "Get varm."

Disappointment crashed over Hermione. She nodded, trying to hide her crestfallen expression as she turned towards the bathroom. But then Viktor's hand closed around hers, tugging her gently towards him.

"Come," he said, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I vill help you get clean."

Hermione's heart soared as Viktor led her into the bathroom. As he turned on the shower and steam began to fill the small space.

As the warm water cascaded over her body, Hermione felt her nerves melt away. Viktor's strong hands glided over her skin, spreading soap across her shoulders and down her arms. She shivered as his fingers trailed along her sides, ghosting over the curve of her breasts.

"Is this okay?" Viktor murmured, his breath hot against her ear.

Hermione nodded. Her body tingled with anticipation as Viktor's hands moved lower, caressing her stomach. Viktor's fingers ventured even lower, tracing the contours of her cunt. The sensation of his touch there was electric. She gasped, as he found her clit. She needed him to touch her already.

"Tell me vot feels good," Viktor murmured, his voice a soft rasp in her ear.

Viktor began to stroke her gently. His touch was feather-light, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

He had an impressive, no, an extraordinary memory, she thought dazedly. It was as if he'd taken a mental note of every gasp, every shudder, and was now using that knowledge to bring her to the brink. In no time at all, he found that sweet spot, the place that made her legs quiver and her toes curl against the wet tiles beneath her feet.

She clutched at his shoulders, her fingers digging into the solid muscle there as she struggled to remain standing.

"That," she whispered. "Right there. Vik."

His name on her lips seemed to spur him on, and he continued his tugging, circling her clit leaving her boneless and trembling. Her hips rocked instinctively, seeking more friction.

"Like this?" Viktor asked, increasing the pressure slightly.

"Yes," Hermione moaned. "Oh gods, yes."

She leaned back against Viktor's broad chest, her head falling onto his shoulder as waves of pleasure washed over her. His free hand came up to cup her breast, thumb brushing over her hardened nipple.

Hermione reached behind her, fingers wrapping around Viktor's thick shaft. He groaned low in his throat, his hips jerking forward.

"Show me," Hermione whispered. "Show me how to touch you."

Viktor's hand enveloped hers, his fingers long and sure guided her. With a gentle squeeze, he encouraged her to apply more pressure, to trace the veined length of him with a firmer grip. Hermione followed his lead, her strokes becoming more confident, more purposeful. She watched his face, noting the way his eyelids fluttered closed, the slight parting of his lips.

Then, with a subtle shift of his hand, he urged her to quicken her pace. Merlin, he was so incredibly sexy, and here she was stroking his cock. She wet her lips. She felt powerful, in control knowing she made him like this.

Each stroke, each moan from Viktor's lips made her wetter, needier.

"Like that," Viktor breathed. "Just like that, kote."

Their hands moved in tandem, pleasuring each other as the shower steam swirled around them. Hermione felt herself climbing higher and higher, chasing her release. Viktor's fingers moved faster, circling her clit with practiced skill.

"Viktor," she gasped. "I'm going to..."

"Let go," he murmured. "Come for me, Her-my-own-ninny."

With a cry of ecstasy, Hermione tumbled over the edge. Her body shuddered against Viktor's as waves of pleasure crashed over her. She felt him tense behind her, his cock pulsing in her hand as he found his own release.

For several long moments, they stood under the warm spray, holding each other as they caught their breath. Hermione's legs felt weak, her entire body buzzing with residual pleasure.

"That vas..." Viktor began.

"Amazing," Hermione finished, turning in his arms to face him.

She stretched up on her toes, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Viktor responded immediately, deepening the kiss as his arms tightened around her waist. When they finally broke apart, both were breathless once more.

"Ve are just getting started." He stated, kissing the top of her head.

Hermione clenched her legs. She reached for a towel, but he gently took it from her hands.

"Let me," he murmured, his dark eyes intense as he began to tenderly dry her skin.

His touch was reverent, his large hands gliding over her curves. Hermione let out a short moan as Viktor's fingers grazed and squeezed the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.

She gasped as Viktor's strong arms lifted her effortlessly. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her to the bed, her skin tingling where it pressed against him.

"Viktor" she breathed as he lowered her onto the soft mattress. His dark eyes blazed with desire as he gazed down at her.

"Tell me vot you vant, kote," Viktor murmured, trailing kisses along her collarbone.

Hermione's breath hitched. "I want... I want you to touch me. Please."

Viktor's lips curved into a wicked smile. "Vith pleasure."

Viktor's lips trailed a fiery path down her body. Each kiss felt like a brand, searing her skin. When he reached her breasts, he worshipped them with a fervor that made her arch off the bed, a soft moan slipping from her parted lips. The sensation of his mouth on her, warm and insistent, was amazing.

She wanted more as his teasing kisses ventured lower, tracing her stomach, until finally, his breath ghosted over the apex of her thighs. Hermione was afloat on a sea of desire, trembling with a need so deep it was almost painful.

The first swipe of his tongue on her was like a jolt of pure electricity.

"Oh god, Viktor," she moaned. "That feels incredible."

"Call me 'Vik' and I vill make you see stars." He said, his obsidian eyes on her as he teased her swollen clit.

Gods, she needed more of that tongue of his.

"Viktor, please, I—"

Viktor's strong hands gripped her hips, pinning her to the mattress.

" No ,'" he growled.

"Vik," she tried again

Viktor hummed. He continued, delving deeper into her cunt. Hermione's fingers threaded through his dark, tousled hair, clutching at him as if he were her anchor in the storm of sensation that threatened to overwhelm her.

With each skilled stroke of his tongue, she was undone a little more, gasping and whimpering. Hermione was lost in a haze of desire, her legs trembling, her heart racing, as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her, pulling her under into a sweet, blissful abyss.

Viktor's hand moved with purpose, his fingers slipping into her. He curled them just so, a deft movement that seemed to touch the very core of her. The sensation was blinding, a cascade of stars exploding behind her eyelids as she arched into his touch.

"More!"

He complied. Each deliberate stroke sent shockwaves of pleasure through her, unraveling her thoughts until there was nothing but pure pleasure. Hermione's fingers clutched at the sheets.

"Come for me again, kote," he urged. "Let me taste you."

It didn't take long before Hermione was crying out, her body shuddering with the force of her orgasm. Viktor worked her through it, his touches gentling as she came down from her high.

When she could breathe again, Hermione tugged Viktor up for a deep kiss. She could taste herself on his lips.

"My turn," she whispered, pushing gently at his shoulders.

"You do not haff to."

She smiled. "I know but I want to."

The witch trailed kisses down his chiseled abs, savoring the way his muscles tensed under her touch. When she reached his impressive length, she hesitated for a moment.

"I... I've never done this before. Tell me what to do," she said, looking up at him through her lashes. "I want to make you feel good too."

He reached down to cup her cheek. "Start slow," he instructed, his voice husky. "Use your tongue first. Then just do vot feels natural. And if I like something, I vill let you know."

Encouraged, to not only do well, but excel, Hermione wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft, her fingers barely meeting around his girth. She gave an experimental lick along the underside, drawing a sharp intake of breath from Viktor. The sound was a heady reward, encouraging her to continue. Feeling brave, she took him into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the tip as she adjusted to the new sensation.

"Fuck," Viktor groaned. "Just like that, kote. Suck my cock."

Her cunt throbbed in response to his words. She had just had an orgasm, but she still needed more. She needed him inside of her.

Hermione followed his instructions, alternating between licks and gentle suction, her movements guided by the sounds of his pleasure and the subtle shifts of his body. She watched Viktor's face, noting what made his breath catch or his hips buck. Each reaction was a clue, a piece of the puzzle that she was eager to solve. She wanted to memorize every nuance of his desire, to learn what drove him wild and to be the one to give him that ecstasy.

Hermione felt a sense of triumph every time Viktor's hand twitched in her hair, every time his thighs tensed beneath her. She was doing this to him, reducing the stoic Quidditch champion to a man moaning her name.

As she grew more confident, Hermione increased her pace, taking him deeper.

"So good," Viktor praised, his accent thicker than usual. "You are perfect."

Hermione redoubled her efforts, taking him deeper into her mouth. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking harder as she bobbed her head.

Viktor's hands fisted in the sheets. "Her-my-own-ninny," he gasped. "Stop, or I vill--"

Hermione pulled back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Isn't that the point?" she teased.

Viktor chuckled, sitting up to pull her into a hot wet kiss. "Not yet," he murmured against her lips. "I vant to be inside you vhen I come."

She nodded, suddenly feeling shy again. "Um, how should I—?"

Viktor's eyes darkened. "On your back," he said, his voice rough. "I vant to see your face."

Hermione lay back on the bed, her legs parting instinctively as Viktor settled between them. He braced himself on one arm, using his free hand to guide himself to her entrance.

"Are you ready?" he asked softly.

Hermione nodded, her fingers digging into his shoulders. "Yes," she breathed. "Please, Vik."

He uttered a contraceptive charm as Viktor pushed inside her, the slow, deliberate stretch of her body around his making her feel full in the most exquisite way. When he was fully seated within her, he paused, pressing his forehead against hers.

"You feel amazing. So tight and vet for me."

A whimper escaped Hermione's lips, and she rocked her hips, the slight movement felt amazing. Each nerve seemed to sing with the sensation of his cock inside of her.

"Move," she urged. "Please, I need--"

Viktor didn't need to be told twice. He began to thrust, his movements starting slow and deep. Gradually, he picked up the pace, his rhythm matching the crescendo of their mingled moans. Hermione met him thrust for thrust, her legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.

"мака му," Viktor growled and although she couldn't understand, she still knew what he was saying. "You take my cock so so good kitten. So perfect for me. Just me."

His words, so deliciously crude made her cunt clench around him. "Harder," Hermione gasped, her fingers digging into the firm muscles of his back. "Please, Vik, I need more."

Viktor obliged, snapping his hips with more force, the sound of their flesh filled the room. The new angle had him hitting a spot deep inside her that made Hermione see stars, each thrust threatening to shatter her into a thousand pieces of pure bliss.

"Yes! Yes!" she cried out, a high sound she barely recognized as her voice. "Don't- don't stop."

"Never. I could fuck you forever, kote. You feel too good."

Hermione whimpered.

She gasped as Viktor's hand tangled in her hair, gently tugging her head back into the pillow. His lips brushed her ear as he murmured praise, his voice rough with desire.

"You're incredible," he growled. "So beautiful, so perfect for me."

She'd never imagined Viktor could be so vocal, and the effect was intoxicating. Each phrase of praise had her wanting to hear more, stoking the fire of her arousal.

Viktor's rhythm faltered for a moment, and he let out a deep groan. "Her-my-oh-knee," he said, his voice strained. "I need more. Can you--?"

Hermione nodded eagerly. "Yes," she breathed. "Anything."

With a gentleness that belied his strength, Viktor withdrew from her and guided her onto her hands and knees. Hermione felt exposed in this new position, but the vulnerability had her cunt throbbing.

"Beautiful," Viktor murmured, his hands caressing the curve of her hips. "You're perfect, kote."

Hermione felt the blunt head of his cock teasing her entrance, and she whimpered with need. "Please, Vik," she begged. "Don't tease."

Viktor chuckled, the sound low and full of promise. "Patience, my Hermione," he said. "I want to savor this moment."

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Viktor began to push inside her once more.

"Oh, Merlin," she moaned. "Viktor, that feels amazing."

"Чувстваш се невероятно," Viktor growled in Bulgarian. "Толкова стегнат, толкова идеален за мен."

He started with slow, deep thrusts that had Hermione clutching at the sheets. But soon, spurred on by her gasps and moans, he picked up the pace.

The room filled with the sounds of their passion - skin against skin, breathless moans, and Viktor's continuous stream of praise and dirty talk.

"Приемаш ме so good," he groaned, in English or Bulgarian, but the sounds were unrecognizable. "Such good vitch"

Hermione felt her arms give out, and she collapsed onto the mattress, her face pressed against the sheets.

Viktor's hands gripped her hips tightly as he rutted into her, his pace almost frantic now. One hand moved to squeeze her bottom, the slight pain mixing deliciously with the pleasure.

"Vik," Hermione gasped. "I'm close. I'm so close."

"Ела за мен, коте," Viktor urged, now this time in Bulgarian, squeezing the flesh of her arse.

She cried out Viktor's name as waves of pleasure crashed over her, her entire body trembling as the ecstasy consumed her.

Viktor followed soon after, his rhythm faltering as he came. He collapsed onto the bed beside her, pulling Hermione into his arms.

For a long moment, they lay there in silence, catching their breath. Hermione felt boneless, utterly sated in a way she'd never experienced before.

"That was..." she began, struggling to find the right words.

"Amazing," Viktor finished for her, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

Hermione nestled into Viktor's embrace, her body still humming with pleasure. She felt a strange sense of contentment she'd never experienced before, a sense of rightness that went beyond the physical.

Viktor's fingers traced lazy patterns on her skin, sending little shivers through her. She tilted her head to look up at him, marveling at the softness in his usually stern features.

"Her-my-oh-knee. I haff something to ask you."

"Yes?"

He took a deep breath, his dark smoldering eyes met hers.

"Vill you be my girlfriend?"

She couldn't help the wide smile that spread across her face. "Yes," she said, almost without thinking. "Yes, I'd love to be your girlfriend, Viktor."

Viktor's face lit up with a smile that took her breath away. She hadn't seen that smile since he had asked her to the Yule ball. He pulled her closer, pressing a tender kiss to her lips.

"Maybe ve get tattoos to celebrate," he teased, his fingers brushing over the spot where their tattoos had once been.

Hermione laughed, swatting his chest playfully. "I think we've had quite enough of tattoos for now, don't you?"

Viktor chuckled. "Da," he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "No more tattoos. Just you and me, kote."

#smut #hp fanfic #hp smut #fanfic #viktor krum #hermione granger #vikmione #viktor krum x hermione granger #hermione x viktor #krum x granger #krumione

11 notes · View notes

littlesweetchurro · 1 year ago

Text

Frayed Nerves

Chapter Eight

✨Content: 18+ Loss of Virginity, NSFW

✨W.C: 2511

✨ Also on AO3

Viktor leaned over Hermione's shoulder, his chest pressed against her back as she spread out a worn map on the hag's rickety table. The tiny hut forced them close together, and he caught a whiff of her hair, like the pervert he was.

"There," Hermione pointed to a spot on the map. "The Whispering Woods. That's where we'll find the Midnight Bloom."

Viktor shook his head, his chin almost brushing her ear. "How do ve know vhere to look exactly?"

Hermione turned her head slightly, her cheek nearly grazing his. "The hag said it grows near the heart of the forest, where the trees whisper the loudest."

"Sounds like ve have our vork cut out for us," Viktor murmured. She was so close that he could almost touch her, taste her.

Hermione shifted, trying to get a better look at the map, but the movement only pressed her more firmly against him. Viktor swallowed hard, willing himself to focus on the task at hand.

"I think we have everything we need to harvest the Midnight Bloom."

Viktor hummed in agreement, his eyes tracing the path they'd need to take.

Hermione nodded, her hair tickling his chin.

As they continued to study the map, Viktor found it increasingly difficult to concentrate. The warmth of Hermione's body against his, the soft sound of her breathing, the way her fingers traced lines on the parchment—it all threatened to overwhelm him.

His eyes traced the curve of Hermione's lips, remembering how soft they felt against his.

"Now, now, lovebirds," the hag's raspy voice cut through the moment. ""I may be old, but I'm not dead. No hanky-panky in my hut. Take that outside if you must."

Hermione jumped back, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson. Viktor fought back a smirk. Why was her blushing face so damn erotic?

"We weren't - I mean, we didn't -" Hermione stammered, avoiding his gaze.

"Oh, spare me the denials, dearie," the hag interrupted. "I may be ancient, but I'm not blind. I can see the way you two look at each other."

Hermione's blush deepened.

"I'm so sorry, Viktor," she whispered. "This is all my fault. If I hadn't been so foolish-"

Viktor cut her off, placing a gentle hand on her arm. "No, Her-my-oh-knee. It is not your fault. The potion affected us both."

So it had been the potion that had made them act like that. While he probably should have felt assaulted and violated, he almost thanked the hag. If it hadn't been for her, they probably would have parted ways by now. Yes, the situation wasn't ideal, but here he was standing so close to Hermione. He'd make it up to her any way he could, any way she wanted, but for now, he would enjoy her presence.

She nodded, but he could see the guilt still lingering in her eyes. "But I shouldn't have-"

"You should not haff vot?" Viktor asked, his voice low and husky. "Should not haff let me touch you? Should not haff moaned my name?" He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her ear. "Should not haff come in my arms?"

Hermione shivered and licked her lips. "Viktor," she whined, and the breathy sound went straight to his cock.

He pulled back slightly, meeting her gaze. "The hag is right, you know. There vas attraction there all along. The potion just helped."

She bit her lip. "But... but that can't be true. We barely knew each other. It's been years since-"

Viktor nodded. "Time does not matter. Vot I felt for you then, vot I feel now - it has alvays been there."

The air between them crackled with tension. Viktor could feel the heat radiating from Hermione's body and could hear the quickening of her breath. She licked her lips, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to capture them with his own.

"It's... it's just the potion," Hermione said weakly, but her eyes never left his lips. "That's why we're acting this way."

Viktor raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice challenging. He leaned in even closer, their noses almost touching. "Because vot I feel right now - that is not the potion, Her-my-oh-knee. That is all me. Every touch, every kiss - that vas me vanting you."

Hermione's eyes fluttered closed. "Viktor," she breathed, he could hear the longing in her voice.

Just as he was about to close the distance between them, a spray of cold water hit them both in the face. They jumped apart, spluttering.

The hag stood there, holding a spray bottle and looking thoroughly amused. "I told you, no hanky-panky in my hut. I won't have you defiling my workspace."

Hermione looked mortified, wiping water from her face. "We should go," she said quickly. "We need to find that ingredient and come back right away. We're clearly not thinking straight."

As they gathered their things to leave, the hag called out, "Oh, and dearie? What you're feeling - what you're both feeling - has nothing to do with the potion or the tattoos. The potion only works once, remember? Everything after that first night? That's all you."

Hermione's face turned an impossible shade of red as she rushed out of the hut. Viktor followed, fighting back a grin.

As they made their way through the forest towards the Whispering Woods, Viktor was constantly drawn to Hermione. He helped her over fallen logs, his hand lingering on her lower back. When she stumbled on a root, he caught her, pulling her close against his chest.

"Careful," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear.

Hermione shivered but didn't pull away immediately. "Thank you," she said softly, her eyes meeting his for a brief, charged moment before she stepped back.

"So, Hermy-own-ninny," Viktor said, deliberately mispronouncing her name as he used to. "Tell me, haff you alvays liked libraries?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, but he could see the smile tugging at her lips. "Oh, stop it. You know how to say my name properly now."

Viktor grinned. "Maybe I just like the vay you look vhen you are annoyed vith me."

She swatted his arm playfully. "Prat."

He caught her hand, bringing it to his lips and placing a soft kiss on her knuckles. "Your prat, though."

He waited for her to correct him but she didn't.

. For a moment, Viktor thought he'd gone too far, but then she smiled - a soft, shy thing that made his heart skip a beat.

As they continued their journey, Viktor found more and more excuses to touch her. Each lamer than the last. A hand on her waist as he helped her over a particularly tricky patch of ground. Fingers brushed against hers as they walked side by side. Each touch only made him want to touch her more, and he could see the effect it had on Hermione too - the way her breath quickened, the flush that crept up her neck.

They were so caught up in each other that they almost missed the first signs of danger. A low growl rumbled through the forest, causing the birds to fall silent and the air to grow still.

Viktor tensed, his instincts kicking in. He scanned the area, trying to locate the source of the sound. Beside him, Hermione had gone rigid, her hand inching towards her wand.

"Vot is it?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know, but it doesn't sound friendly."

The growl came again, louder this time. The underbrush to their left rustled, and Viktor caught a glimpse of something large moving through the trees.

"Run," he said, grabbing Hermione's hand.

They took off, crashing through the forest as fast as they could. Behind them, the creature roared - a sound that shook the ground.

V What kind of beast could make a sound like that? He'd faced dragons during the Triwizard Tournament, but even they hadn't sounded so primal.

He risked a glance over his shoulder and immediately wished he hadn't. The creature pursuing them was massive - easily the size of a small house. Its body was covered in thick, matted fur, and its eyes glowed an eerie yellow in the dim forest light. Curved horns protruded from its head, and its mouth was filled with razor-sharp teeth.

"There!" Hermione shouted, pointing ahead.

Viktor followed her gaze and saw a small outcropping of rocks. It wasn't much, but it might provide some cover. They sprinted towards it, the creature's hot breath practically on their heels.

They dove behind the rocks just as the beast lunged. Its massive paw swiped at the air where they had been moments before, sending a shower of leaves and twigs raining down on them.

Viktor pulled Hermione close, shielding her body with his as the creature roared in frustration. He could feel her heart pounding against his chest, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

"It's okay," he murmured, stroking her hair. "I haff you. Ve're safe for now."

Hermione nodded against his chest, her fingers clutching at his shirt. "What is that thing?" she whispered.

Viktor nodded. "I do not know. I have never seen anything like it before."

The beast circled their hiding spot, sniffing the air and growling. Its massive form cast shadows over them, blocking out what little light filtered through the forest canopy.

Viktor's mind raced, trying to come up with a plan. They couldn't stay here forever - eventually, the creature would find a way to get to them. But making a run for it seemed equally suicidal.

He looked down at Hermione, who was peering around the edge of the rock, her wand at the ready. Even in the face of danger, she was brilliant and brave. It made his heart swell with pride and something deeper - something he wasn't quite ready to name yet.

"Any ideas?" he asked softly.

Hermione bit her lip, thinking. "Maybe... maybe we could try to distract it? Create some kind of illusion to draw it away?"

Viktor nodded. It was a good plan - better than anything he'd come up with. "Vot kind of illusion?"

"Something big and noisy," Hermione said. "Something that would catch its attention and make it chase after the false target instead of us."

Viktor grinned. "I haff an idea."

He raised his wand, concentrating hard. With a flick and a whispered incantation, a shimmering image appeared at the edge of the clearing - a massive, silvery dragon. It was a spell he'd learned during his Triwizard Tournament training, designed to create lifelike illusions of magical creatures.

The beast's head snapped towards the illusory dragon, its yellow eyes narrowing. The dragon roared - a sound indistinguishable from the real thing - and took off through the trees.

With a bellow of rage, the creature gave chase, crashing through the underbrush after the false dragon.

Viktor grabbed Hermione's hand. "Now," he said. "Ve must go vhile it is distracted."

They took off in the opposite direction, running as fast as they could through the dense forest. Viktor's heart pounded in his ears, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He could hear Hermione's ragged breathing beside him.

They thought they'd escaped the beast, but a thunderous roar behind them shattered that illusion. The creature was back on their trail, its massive form crashing through the underbrush with terrifying speed.

His eyes darted frantically, searching for any means of escape. Suddenly, he spotted a hollow in a massive old tree, just large enough for them to squeeze into. Without hesitation, he tugged Hermione towards it.

"Come!" he shouted, pointing at the opening. "Quick!"

They dove into the hollow, the space impossibly tight. Viktor found himself pressed flush against Hermione, her body soft against his.

The beast's growls grew louder, and Viktor's instincts took over, his arms encircling Hermione. He drew her closer, so close that he could feel the warmth of her breath against his skin. Her face was nestled in the crook of his neck.

They stood frozen, barely daring to breathe as the creature prowled just outside their hiding spot. Viktor could hear its heavy breathing, the scrape of its claws against the forest floor. He tightened his hold on Hermione.

Every curve of her body molded to his, her softness a contrast to the rough bark at his back. He tried to focus on the danger outside but found his thoughts drifting to far more pleasant scenarios.

Hermione shifted slightly, her leg brushing between his. Viktor bit back a groan as her thigh pressed against his rapidly hardening cock. His imagination ran wild, conjuring vivid images of Hermione writhing beneath him, her legs wrapped around his waist as he thrust into her.

He pictured her flushed face, eyes half-lidded with pleasure as he kissed down her neck. In his mind, he cupped her breasts, teasing her nipples to stiff peaks as she gasped his name.

Viktor's hands twitched at his sides, aching to touch her. He imagined sliding them down her body, over the swell of her hips to dip between her thighs. He could almost feel her wetness coating his fingers as he stroked her.

With Hermione's warm breath fanning against his neck, Viktor struggled to keep his composure. He wanted nothing more than to capture her lips in a searing kiss, to feel her melt against him as he explored every inch of her body with his hands and mouth.

Perun forgive him. He was a sick pervert. He had to be. It was the only way to explain his hard cock and twisted imagination when there was a creature that could snap him like a twig right outside.

The beast's growls faded, but Viktor was reluctant to leave their intimate cocoon. For now, he was content admitting to himself that he was a pervert, at least that way he could still hold Hermione close and lose himself in forbidden fantasies.

Seconds stretched into minutes, the tension mounting with each passing moment. Hermione's soft breasts pressed against his chest; her form melding into his. The sensation of her leg intertwined with his own was almost too much to bear. Each subtle movement brushed against his cock.

Its footsteps grew distant, its growls becoming nothing more than a faint rumble in the distance. Still, they remained motionless, neither willing to risk moving too soon.

He remained still.

Slowly, cautiously, Viktor loosened his grip on Hermione. He instantly missed her warmth as she pulled back slightly, her eyes meeting his in the dim light. A charged moment passed between them, neither quite ready to break the moment.

"I think it's gone," Hermione whispered.

"Da."

Reluctantly, they extricated themselves from the hollow. Viktor's body hummed with residual adrenaline. His cock strained in his trousers.

They pushed through the dense underbrush.

Finally, after what felt like hours of trekking, they reached a small clearing. In the center stood a cluster of strange, luminescent flowers - the Midnight Bloom they'd been searching for.

"There," Hermione commented.

Viktor watched as she carefully harvested the delicate blooms, her movements precise and gentle.

With the flowers safely tucked away in Hermione's beaded bag, they prepared for the journey back. Viktor mounted his broom, extending a hand to help Hermione hop on behind him.

#hermione granger #viktor krum #fanfic #hp fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #viktor krum x hermione granger #hermione x viktor #vikmione #viktor x hermione #krumione

1 note · View note

littlesweetchurro · 1 year ago

Text

Frayed Nerves

Chapter Seven

✨Content: 18+ NSFW

✨W.C: 2253

✨ Also on AO3

Viktor offered Hermione his hand as they followed the hunched figure of the hag through the mist-shrouded forest. The crooked trees seemed to loom over them, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers.

"Excuse me," Hermione called out. "Could you please tell us where we're going? I really need to talk to you. I was wondering if you could tell me about the potion you sold me. Did you happen to use Agrippa as a binding agent?"

The hag cackled but didn't slow her pace or turn around.

The old woman was strangely agile for someone her age and hunched frame. She navigated through the forest with ease.

"Always so many questions with you, dearie," the hag croaked. "Patience is a virtue, you know."

Hermione bit her lip, fighting the urge to snap back. She glanced at Viktor, who gave her a reassuring nod. His large fingers squeezed hers, helping soothe her frayed nerves, if only slightly.

What she needed were answers.

They continued their trek through the dense undergrowth, the mist growing thicker with each step. What if this was a trap? What if the hag led them to their doom? What if she was leading Viktor into more trouble? She gripped her wand tightly, her other hand holding onto Viktor's as if he were to vanish into thin air.

After what felt like hours but was likely only minutes, they emerged into a small clearing. In the center stood a dilapidated cottage, its thatched roof sagging and windows dark. The hag shuffled towards the door, pushing it open with a creak.

"Come in, come in," she cackled, disappearing into the gloom.

Hermione hesitated at the threshold, her instincts screaming at her to turn and run. But they had come too far to back down now.

"It is okay, Her-my-oh-knee. I am here, ve do this together, yes?"

She nodded, taking a deep breath, she stepped inside, Viktor right behind her.

The interior of the cottage was a cluttered mess of shelves, jars, and strange artifacts. Bundles of herbs hung from the ceiling, filling the air with a pungent aroma that made Hermione's head swim. The hag busied herself at a large cauldron in the corner, muttering under her breath as she tossed in various ingredients.

"Now then," the hag said, turning to face them with a toothless grin. "I suppose you're here about that little potion, aren't you?"

Hermione nodded, her throat suddenly dry. "Yes, we need to know-"

"Oh, I know exactly what you need to know, dearie," the hag interrupted, a wicked grin on her face. "But first, tell me, how did you enjoy my little concoction?"

Heat flooded Hermione's cheeks as memories of the library flashed through her mind. Viktor's touch, his lips on her skin, the way he had made her feel... She shook her head, trying to focus.

"That's not- I mean, we're here because-"

The hag cackled again, cutting her off. "Oh, don't be shy now! I can see it written all over your face. And his too," she added, nodding towards Viktor. "My potion did its job quite well, I'd say."

What was she on about?

"Your potion? But I thought... I asked for a magic restoration potion."

"Ah, yes," the hag said. "But you see, dearie, I could tell you needed something else entirely. So tense, so wound up. What you really needed was a good tumble between the sheets!"

Hermione gasped, mortification washing over her. She felt Viktor stiffen beside her, his hand coming to rest protectively on her lower back.

"You... you gave me a love potion?" Hermione sputtered, indignation rising in her chest. "How dare you! That's- that's completely unethical, not to mention illegal!"

The hag shrugged, seemingly unperturbed by Hermione's outrage. "Love potion, lust potion... semantics, really. Besides, it only works if the attraction is mutual." She waved her wand before setting her gaze on Hermione and Viktor. "And if you are here, it clearly worked, did it not? You can't tell me you didn't enjoy yourself."

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but no words came out. As much as she wanted to deny it, she couldn't. That night with Viktor had been incredible. Earth-shattering, even. She really did feel as though she could breathe after being underwater for so long. But still, the principle of the matter remained.

"That's not the point," she said finally, her voice shaking slightly. "You had no right to make that decision for me!"

"Perhaps not," she conceded. "But sometimes we need a little... nudge in the right direction. And you, my dear, needed more than a nudge. You needed a good shove!" She laughed.

Hermione felt her face burning, torn between embarrassment and simmering anger. She glanced at Viktor, expecting to see disgust or disappointment in his eyes. Instead, she found him scowling at the hag. He squeezed her hand gently.

"A push? You call drugging me a 'push'?"

The hag shrugged, an infuriating smile still playing on her lips. "Call it what you will, my dear. The fact remains that you took the potion, and it worked its magic."

If she had been with Harry and Ron they would have gone off on the hag, but not Viktor. He let her fight her own battles. He didn't speak for her, nor did he lose his temper. But he still stood by her, waiting for her.

"Vot about the tattoos?" Viktor asked, speaking for the first time since they'd entered the cottage.

The hag's eyes lit up with delight. "Ah, yes! The tattoos! Now that was an unexpected bonus, I must say. You see, the potion has a little... side effect when used by virgins. Which, I must admit, I didn't think was possible for a witch your age!"

Hermione felt as though the floor had dropped out from under her. The hag's words echoed in her ears, each one a fresh blow to her already battered dignity. She wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground and disappear.

"That's- that's none of your business!" she sputtered, her voice rising an octave. "And what do you mean, 'side effect'?"

The hag cackled, clearly enjoying Hermione's discomfort. "Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist, dearie. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Though I must say, I'm surprised a pretty little thing like you hadn't been plucked already."

Hermione bristled at the crude language, but before she could retort, the hag continued.

"As for the side effect, well, it's quite simple really. The potion creates a... bond, you might say, between the virgin and their first partner. Hence the lovely matching tattoos you both now sport."

A bond? What did that mean exactly? And how permanent was it? She glanced down at the tattoo on her wrist, Viktor's name etched into her skin in elegant script.

"But... but why?" she asked, her voice small and uncertain. "Why would the potion do that?"

The hag shrugged, her bony shoulders rising and falling beneath her tattered robes. "Magic works in mysterious ways, dearie. Perhaps it's a way of marking the occasion, so to speak. Or maybe it's just the universe's way of having a laugh at our expense. Who knows. Who cares."

"I care!" protested the young witch.

There had to be more to it than that. She opened her mouth to press for more details, but Viktor spoke first.

"You said the potion only vorks if the attraction is mutual," he said, his deep voice steady and calm. "Vot does that mean?"

The hag's milky eyes twinkled with amusement. "Ah, clever boy! You're right, of course. The potion doesn't create feelings out of thin air. It simply... lowers inhibitions, shall we say? Brings hidden desires to the surface. But only if those desires already exist on both sides."

Hermione's breath caught in her throat as the implications of the hag's words sank in. She risked a glance at Viktor, finding his dark eyes already fixed on her. The intensity of his gaze made her heart skip a beat. Had he really wanted her all this time? And more importantly, had she wanted him?

As if reading her thoughts, the hag chuckled. "Oh yes, dearies. The attraction was there all along. My potion just gave you the little push you needed to act on it. You can thank me later," she added with a wink that made Hermione's cheeks burn even hotter.

"But- but that's not possible," Hermione stammered. "We barely knew each other. We hadn't seen each other in years!"

The hag fixed her with a knowing look. "The heart wants what it wants, dearie. And sometimes, it remembers things the mind has forgotten."

Hermione fell silent, her thoughts in turmoil. She thought back to the Triwizard Tournament, to the shy smiles and stolen glances she and Viktor had shared. The way her heart had fluttered when he'd asked her to the Yule Ball. Had those feelings really lingered all this time, buried beneath layers of denial and rationalization?

"So," Viktor said, breaking the tense silence. "Can you remove the tattoos?"

The hag's expression turned sly. "Oh, I could," she said, drawing out the words. "But the question is, do you really want me to?"

Hermione's head snapped up. "Of course we do!" she exclaimed, perhaps a bit too quickly. "That's why we came all this way, isn't it?"

But even as the words left her mouth, Hermione felt a twinge of uncertainty. Did she really want the tattoo gone? The thought of erasing Viktor's name from her skin filled her with an unexpected sense of loss. There was something about him that brought something out in her that she liked. He made her feel wanted. Craved.

The hag's knowing smile widened. "Are you sure about that, dearie? Because I'm sensing some hesitation."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but no words came out. She glanced at Viktor, searching his face for any sign of what he was thinking. His expression was unreadable, but there was a softness in his eyes.

"I... I don't know," she admitted finally.

The hag nodded sagely. "Honesty. Good. That's a start." She hobbled over to a cluttered workbench, rummaging through various jars and vials. "Tell you what. I'll make you a deal."

Hermione tensed, instantly wary. "What kind of deal?"

"Nothing too taxing, I assure you," the hag said. "I simply need an ingredient for a potion I'm working on. Fetch it for me, and I'll give you the means to remove the tattoos. If you still want to, that is."

Hermione exchanged a glance with Viktor. He gave a slight nod, leaving the decision up to her. She took a deep breath, weighing their options. On one hand, they had no reason to trust this woman. On the other, what choice did they have?

She couldn't go around walking with Viktor's name on her wrist. People would think she was some crazed fan.

"What kind of ingredient?" she asked cautiously.

The hag's eyes gleamed with triumph. "Just a simple flower, dearie. The Midnight Bloom. It only grows in the heart of the Whispering Woods, and it only blooms at, well, midnight."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "The Whispering Woods? I've never heard of such a place."

"Few have," the hag replied cryptically. "It's a magical forest, hidden from mortal eyes. But I'm sure a clever witch like you can find your way."

Hermione bit her lip, considering. It sounded dangerous, potentially even life-threatening. But wasn't that par for the course in her life by now?

"And if we get this flower for you," she said slowly, "you'll give us the means to remove the tattoos? No tricks?"

The hag placed a hand over her heart in a mockery of sincerity. "Cross my heart and hope to die, dearie. Though I still think you might change your minds about wanting them gone."

Hermione ignored the last comment, turning to Viktor. "What do you think?" she asked softly. "Should we do it?"

Viktor's dark eyes searched her face for a long moment before he nodded. "If this is vot you vant, then ve do it together."

His words sent a warm flutter through Hermione's chest. Together. It was a simple word, but coming from Viktor, it held so much meaning. He was willing to let her decide.

"Alright," she said, turning back to the hag. "We'll do it. Tell us how to find this Whispering Woods."

The hag's face split into a wide, toothless grin. "Excellent!" she cackled, clapping her hands together. "Oh, this will be fun to watch. Now, pay attention, dearies. The path to the Whispering Woods is not an easy one."

As the hag launched into a convoluted explanation involving moonlight, fairy rings, and speaking in riddles to trees, Hermione found her mind wandering. She glanced down at the tattoo on her wrist, tracing Viktor's name with her finger. The idea of removing it no longer filled her with the sense of urgency it once had. Instead, she felt a strange reluctance, as if erasing his name would mean erasing what they had. As if the moment it was gone, he would be gone too and he would take with him the peace he brought her.

She looked up to find Viktor watching her, his expression soft. As their eyes met, Hermione felt a spark of something ignite in her chest. Whatever happened in the Whispering Woods, whatever they decided about the tattoos, one thing was certain: nothing would ever be the same between them again.

#hermione granger #fanfic #viktor krum #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #viktor krum x hermione granger #hermione x viktor #viktor x hermione #vikmione #krumione

2 notes · View notes

littlesweetchurro · 1 year ago

Text

Frayed Nerves

Chapter Six

✨Content: 18+ Loss of Virginity, NSFW

✨W.C: 3627

✨ Also on AO3

Viktor traced the contours of the map, his eyes following the winding paths that led to their destination. Hermione leaned in close, her curls brushing against his shoulder as she pointed out potential routes.

"The Hag's Tooth is situated in the Wicklow Mountains," she explained. "We'll need to be prepared for steep terrain, unpredictable weather, and potentially hostile magical creatures."

Viktor shook his head. He couldn't look away from her. Little freckles dotted her nose, and he wanted to trace them.

"Da, I see. Vot about these passes here?"

"Those could work."

"Look here," he pointed out, his finger joining hers on the map. "This vay might be faster, but more difficult."

Slowly, he let his fingers drift towards hers, feigning interest in the map. His fingertips brushed against hers. Hermione looked up at him, surprise flickering in her eyes before she quickly returned to the map.

"That, um, yes, that would be good."

Emboldened by her response, Viktor allowed his fingers to dance across hers, tracing delicate patterns on the parchment. Her fingers froze, but she didn't pull away. Encouraged, he ventured further up her arm.

"It vould save us time."

He slowly moved behind her, his fingers never leaving her skin until he stood behind her, pressing his chest against her back as his cock hardened against the softness of her arse.

Hermione gasped, "R-right." Viktor waited for her to reject him, but she didn't. In fact, she arched back into him slightly as if inviting more contact.

Leaning closer, Viktor whispered into her ear, "I think ve are ready."

His cock twitched as he stood behind her, his fingers tracing the soft skin of her arm. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her ear.

"You know," he purred. Hermione squeaked as Viktor lightly ground his hips against her arse. She pushed her soft flesh against him and Viktor fought the urge to ground his cock into her arse.

"For the trip," he continued, his fingers continuing their gentle exploration of her arm.

But just as Hermione seemed to be melting into his touch, Viktor heard the distant sound of voices approaching. Reluctantly, he pulled away, putting some much-needed distance between them.

Viktor fixed his gaze on the maps as the door burst open.

Potter and Miss Weasley strode in, the redhead's eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Well, well," the redheaded witch said, her voice lilting with amusement. "If it isn't the two lovebirds planning their romantic getaway."

Potter followed close behind. "Hermione, Krum," he greeted them, his gaze sweeping over the map on the table.

Hermione's cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of red, and she shot the other witch a withering glare. "It's not a date, Ginny," she huffed. "We're just trying to figure out how to get to the Hag's Tooth."

The redhead's grin only widened. "Sure, sure. That's what they all say." She winked at Viktor, who chuckled at Hermione's obvious discomfort.

"It's not like that!"

Miss Weasley's grin widened. "Oh, come on, Hermione. A secluded journey with your Bulgarian Bon-Bon? Sounds pretty romantic to me."

Viktor scowled.

Gods he hated that nickname.

As the girls continued their playful banter, Potter cleared his throat, drawing Viktor's attention. The bespectacled wizard approached him, his expression serious.

"Krum," he began, his voice low, "I need to talk to you. Privately."

Viktor shook his head, following the younger wizard to a quiet corner of the room.

“Look, Krum," the raven-haired wizard started, his green eyes fixed on Viktor's face. "I know there's... something going on between you and Hermione." He paused, running a hand through his messy hair. "And I want you to know that I'm... well, I'm protective of her. She's my best friend, and I care about her a lot."

Viktor remained silent. No need to deny the truth.

"If anything happens to her, Krum," The-Boy-Who-Lived threatened, "if she gets hurt or... or worse, I swear I'll—"

"I vill protect her vith my life," Viktor interrupted, his tone firm and unwavering. "Her-my-oh-knee is important to me, and I vill do everything in my power to keep her safe."

Potter studied him for a moment, then nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Good. I'm glad to hear it." He extended his hand, and Viktor shook it firmly. "But I need you to understand something. If anything happens to her, anything at all, you'll have me to answer to. Got it?" Potter's hand grip was surprisingly strong.

"You haff my vord."

Potter let go of his hand and nodded.

As they rejoined the witches, Miss Weasley was in the midst of another round of teasing. "Just make sure you two lovebirds pack plenty of protection ," she said with a wink.

"Ginny!"

"What? I am too young to be an aunt!"

Potter grunted, looking uncomfortable. "Gin, please, just—"

The redhead shook her head, hands on her hips. "No, buts." She tilted her head towards Hermione. "Harry teach Hermione that contraceptive spell you used last—"

"Gin!" Potter blushed. "I am sure Krum knows one," he ushered almost defensively.

Miss Weasley chuckled, eyeing Viktor up and down. She smirked, "Oh, I am sure he knows more than one." Potter dashed to his girlfriend's side, yanking her behind him.

"I do know more than one," Viktor replied dryly, making Potter look more uncomfortable, which made Viktor feel like he won.

Miss Weasley laughed, elbowing Potter. "See, told you."

A warm small hand found his. Hermione looked between him and her friend, and if Viktor's eyes were working right, he could have sworn she was pouting.

"That's enough, Ginny, we should get going."

"Yeah, I bet you're in a hurry to get on his stick."

"Oh Merlin," Potter groaned.

Hermione flushed.

Viktor shook his head, earning a gentle swat from Hermione. "Don't encourage her, Viktor."

"I do not like to lie."

"Viktor!"

Miss Weasley laughed harder and Potter looked pained.

He fought a smile. And only to annoy Potter because he won the Cup, he added, "I haff a very good stick."

"Okay, I am leaving," proclaimed Potter. "Be careful, you two."

Ginny pulled Hermione into a tight hug. "If you do ride his stick Hermione, could you—" Potter cut off his girlfriend, tugging her behind him. "You are coming with me before you get any weird ideas."

As they turned to leave, Ginny called out one last time.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

Hermione groaned.

"Viktor, don't—don't say stuff like that," Hermione said under her breath, her cheeks a lovely shade of red.

"Like vot?" he feigned ignorance.

"Like-like that stuff about your…stick," she huffed out. "Especially in front of Ginny. She's a fan and I-I don't think it's proper to talk about that stuff in a library."

He wanted to scoff, but didn't. He was about to say that they had done far worse than talk about sticks, but he held his tongue, mostly because he was almost sure she was jealous.

So instead, he leaned in close, "I do not lie Her-my-oh-knee," he pushed a curl away from her face. "I haff the best broom."

"Your broom! That's right!"

He tilted his head, "vot vhere you thinking?" he teased, fully aware of what she was thinking. He hoped, for his pride's sake, that she was thinking about his other stick.

"I, um, was thinking about—" her eyes dropped to his crotch, before darting to his. She immediately turned around and began to walk to the table.

She coughed. "I was thinking we need to leave, if we are to make haste."

Viktor smirked, happy she was thinking about his stick.

With their supplies packed and maps secured, it was time to depart.

Viktor maneuvered his broom through the dense Irish forest, the wind whipping through his hair. Hermione clung tightly to his waist, her warmth pressed against his back. A mischievous Sprite darted ahead with a taunting giggle, Hermione's beaded bag clutched in its tiny hands.

"There!" she cried, her hand briefly leaving Viktor's waist to point towards a glimmering trail of light. "It's leaving a magical signature. Follow that!"

Viktor shook his head, adjusting their course to follow the magical trail. The Sprite was crafty, weaving between trees and ducking under low-hanging branches. But Viktor was in his element. This was what he lived for - the thrill of the chase, the rush of adrenaline as he pushed his flying skills to the limit. And he wasn't about to let the creature get the advantage. He had a witch to impress.

Hermione's grip tightened, her fingers digging into his sides as he executed a particularly sharp turn. Her body molded against his back, her breath hot against the back of his neck. Focus, he reminded himself. Now was not the time to get distracted by how perfectly Hermione fit against him, how soft her breasts were against his back, how her arms snaked around his waist.

The Sprite giggled, its high-pitched laughter echoing through the forest. It darted left, then right, clearly enjoying the game. But Viktor was done playing. With a burst of speed, he urged the broom forward, closing the gap between them and their quarry.

"Hold on tight," he called over his shoulder. Hermione's arms tightened around his waist in response.

Suddenly, the creature came into view, its tiny form zipping through the air with dizzying speed. Viktor narrowed his eyes, his muscles coiled and ready. In one fluid motion, Viktor leaned forward, crossing his ankles to hold onto the broom, his thighs lifted, closing the distance, he reached out, his fingers stretching towards the beaded bag. The Sprite grunted as it realized its game was coming to an end. With a triumphant grin, Viktor's hand closed around the bag.

"Got it!" he exclaimed, holding the bag aloft.

But his victory was short-lived. In his excitement, Viktor had forgotten about his passenger. He felt Hermione's weight shift, her grip loosening as she tipped sideways.

"Viktor!" she cried out.

He tried to correct their course, but it was too late. They tumbled from the broom, the world spinning around them. Viktor's Quidditch-honed instincts kicked in. He wrapped his arms around Hermione, twisting in the air to take the brunt of the fall.

They hit the ground with a thud, leaves, and twigs crunching beneath them. Viktor groaned, the impact knocking the wind out of him. But the discomfort was quickly forgotten as he realized their position.

Hermione had landed on top of him, her body pressed flush against his. Her wild curls tickled his face, and he could feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she caught her breath. Viktor's hands had somehow found their way to her hips, holding her steady.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Viktor stared up at Hermione, taking in her flushed cheeks and wide eyes. A part of him wanted to stay like this forever, with her warm, delicious weight on top of him, her face mere inches from his own.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly.

Hermione nodded, seemingly unable to find her voice. Her eyes darted to his lips, then back to his eyes. Viktor felt his heart rate pick up, and he was sure she could feel it too.

Unable to resist, he smirked. "If you vanted to try this position, you could haff just asked," he teased, his thumbs tracing small circles on her hips.

Hermione's mouth fell open, and a deep blush spread across her cheeks. "I... what?" she sputtered, finally seeming to realize their compromising position.

She scrambled to her feet, brushing leaves and twigs from her clothes. Viktor immediately missed her warmth.

"That was... well, that could have gone smoother," Hermione said, trying to regain her composure. "Maybe next time, try staying on the broom after you catch the bag?"

Viktor pushed himself up, still grinning. "Vhere is the fun in that?" he asked, reaching out to pluck a leaf from her hair. His fingers lingered for a moment.

Hermione darted her eyes, and Viktor felt a surge of satisfaction. It was nice to know he wasn't the only one affected by their closeness.

"We should... we should keep moving," Hermione said, her voice slightly breathless. "The Hag's Tooth can't be far now."

Viktorshook his head, retrieving his broom from where it had fallen. As they set off again, he stole glances at Hermione. The way she bit her lip as she consulted their map, the determined set of her shoulders as she forged ahead - everything about her captivated him.

Their journey continued, the dense forest gradually giving way to rockier terrain. The air grew cooler as they climbed higher into the mountains. Viktor found himself grateful for the physical exertion; it helped distract him from the lingering thoughts of Hermione's body pressed against his.

"Look," Hermione said suddenly, pointing ahead. "I think that's it."

Viktor followed her gaze. A jagged peak rose from the mountainside, its shape reminiscent of a crooked tooth. Dark clouds swirled around its summit, occasionally lit by flashes of lightning.

"The Hag's Tooth," Viktor murmured. "It looks... unvelcoming."

Hermione snorted. "That's putting it mildly." She turned to him, and she straightened her shoulders. "Are you ready?"

Viktor met her gaze, seeing the strength and courage that had first drawn him to her all those years ago. He reached out, taking her hand in his. "Together," he said firmly.

Hermione's fingers intertwined with his, and she nodded. "Together," she echoed.

The path grew steeper and more treacherous as they climbed. Viktor kept a watchful eye on Hermione, ready to catch her if she stumbled. But she surprised him with her surefootedness, navigating the rocky terrain with determination.

"You are good at this," he commented as they paused to catch their breath. "I did not know you vere a climber."

Hermione laughed. "You pick up a thing or two when you are on the run for months."

He scowled. He didn't like that. He didn't like to even think about the things that she must have done to survive. While there were many things about her that stayed the same, many things were new. Maybe after this ordeal was done, she would let him discover how much she'd changed since 1994.

As they continued their climb, Viktor shared stories of his own adventures - Quidditch matches in treacherous weather, encounters with magical creatures during his holidays. Hermione listened intently, asking questions and sharing her own experiences.

"When did you get so good at flying?" she asked.

Viktor shrugged, his lips quirking into a half-smile. "I haff alvays been good," he replied matter-of-factly.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin playing on her lips. "How humble of you to say that," she quipped.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "It is true," he insisted. "Just like you are naturally good at many things." His eyes softened as he looked at her. "Your loff of reading, for example. The vay you absorb everything like sponge - it is very impressive."

A light blush colored Hermione's cheeks, and Viktor felt a surge of satisfaction at having caused it. She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. She needed to be complimented more, all the time if possible. She was amazing, but something told Viktor that she didn't believe how great she was.

"Maybe I give you flying lessons sometime," he suggested, his tone playful.

Hermione scoffed, and she shook her head vigorously. "Oh, no. No, thank you. I prefer to keep my feet firmly on the ground."

Viktor couldn't resist teasing her further. "Are you sure? I promise I vill not let you fall." He winked at her, enjoying the way her blush deepened. "Unless you vant to, of course. I hear some vitches enjoy that."

Hermione gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in mock outrage. "Viktor Krum! Are you implying what I think you're implying?"

He laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. "I'm just saying, there are many vays to fly, Hermione. Some you do not need a broom."

"Viktor!" She blushed, picking up the pace.

"Vot, it is truth."

"You're incorrigible, you know!"

"No, I do not know because I do not know vot vord means."

Hermione laughed again, and Viktor felt his heart swell. He loved making her laugh, seeing the way her eyes crinkled at the corners and her whole face light up.

"When did you become such a—such a rake?" She huffed out. "I don't remember you being like this during the Tournament."

Viktor smiled. He took four big steps, easily spanning the distance between them. He stepped up a ridge, the ground uneven beneath his boots, and offered his hand to her. She took it, her fingers warm and soft in his, and he gently pulled her up. Their faces were inches apart.

"Many things changed, Her-my-oh-knee," he whispered into her ear, his voice husky. Their eyes locked, his gaze unwavering as he looked at her lips, their fullness and the slight curve of her smile making his own mouth go dry. "Do you vant to find out?"

She gulped, her gaze fixed on his lips,. "Maybe," she whispered back, the word barely audible, but it was enough.

They stared at each other, the air thickening. Every second that passed, they both moved closer, their breaths mingling. Then, as if suddenly aware of the situation, she stepped away, a blush creeping up her neck.

"We-we should get going," she muttered. She turned away, her footsteps quickening as she hurried down the path.

Their conversations flowed easily as they climbed, the constant banter and flirting helping to distract them from the increasingly difficult terrain. Viktor opened up more than he had in years.

It felt good. At the beginning, Hermione would only ask questions, but as they continued, she started opening up. She told Viktor of what happened during their 5th and 6th year. There was a moment where he thought she would tell him about what happened while they were on the run, but she seemed to think better of it. Viktor didn't push her. He knew all too well that sometimes the scars they bore from the war were better left in the past.

As they neared the summit, the air grew thick with magic. Viktor could feel it prickling against his skin, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Hermione must have felt it too, because she moved closer to him, her shoulder brushing against his.

"Viktor," she called out over the howling wind. "I... I want you to know how grateful I am. You've been so understanding and supportive all this time when you didn't have to be." She rubbed the tattoo with her thumb.

The wind whipped her hair around her face, and he had to resist the urge to brush it away.

She needed to apologize, even if Viktor thought it was unnecessary. He didn't mind the tattoo. Fuck, he didn't even remember it until she brought it up. He was actually grateful for it. It had let him spend more time with her.

"Viktor, I'm sorry. This is all my fault. I should have been more careful. I got you caught up in this mess because I was careless."

Viktor nodded, taking her hands in his. "It is okay," he assured her, his thumbs tracing soothing circles on her skin.

"But it's not!"

"Really, it is fine."

He wanted to tell her that he didn't care about the tattoo, that he actually liked it. Well maybe not like it— it was horrendously cheesy, but he really didn't mind. He thought about saying this but held back, he probably looked like a pervert if he confessed that.

But Hermione was persistent. "No, Viktor. I should have been more careful. You shouldn't have to deal with this."

"I do not mind."

"Well, you should!"

"Vhy?"

Hermione sighed, frustration evident in her voice. "Because, Viktor! Having my name on your wrist... people will misunderstand. It could cause problems for you, for your career. What if the press finds out? They'll have a field day!"

Viktor shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Maybe I vant people to misunderstand."

He watched as Hermione's eyebrows rose, her lips parting in surprise. Slowly, he raised his hands, cupping her face gently. Her skin was soft beneath his calloused palms. He remembered the softness of her skin, her thighs, the warmth and wetness between her legs.

"Vould that be such a bad thing? If people misunderstood?"

Hermione bit her lip, and Viktor's gaze was drawn to the motion. He watched as she seemed to war with herself.

"No," she whispered finally. "No, it wouldn't be terrible." But then she shook her head as if clearing her thoughts. "But I still need to fix this, Viktor. It's not right, it’s not fair to you."

"You are so good, Her-my-oh-knee."

"I am not. I am selfish, I am—"

"You are not that," he interrupted. "You are, and haff alvays been amazing. Now and then."

Hermione darted her gaze, and for a moment, Viktor thought she might pull away. But then she leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed.

The world seemed to fall away as Viktor leaned in, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. His lips were mere inches from hers when a cackling laugh cut through the air.

They jumped apart, both reaching for their wands. At the top of the path stood a figure shrouded in mist - the hag.

"Well, well," the hag croaked, her voice like gravel. "What have we here? Two little lovebirds come to play in my domain?"

Viktor stepped forward, partially shielding Hermione with his body.

"We come for..!"

The hag's eyes gleamed with mischief. "Answers, is it? Oh, I have answers aplenty."

#hermione granger #viktor krum #fanfic #hp fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #vikmione #viktor krum x hermione granger #hermione x viktor #viktor x hermione

2 notes · View notes

littlesweetchurro · 1 year ago

Text

Frayed Nerve

Chapter Five

✨Content: 18+ Loss of Virginity, NSFW

✨W.C: 3340

✨ Also on AO3

Hermione's palms were sweaty. He was just a portrait for Merlin's sake. He can't hurt her feelings anymore.

She and Viktor ascended the spiral staircase to the Headmistress's office. They had approached the familiar gargoyle guarding the entrance, Hermione took a deep breath.

"Catnip Moggies," Hermione murmured, and the gargoyle sprang aside.

He's just a portrait.

The door to the Headmistress's office swung open, and there stood Professor McGonagall, her piercing gaze sweeping over them. Hermione felt as if the older witch could see right through her.

"Miss Granger, Mr Krum," the headmistress greeted them, her tone neutral. "To what do I owe this unexpected visit?"

Hermione swallowed hard. Viktor pressed his arm against hers. "Professor, we, um, we need to speak with Professor Snape's portrait, if that's alright."

McGonagall's eyebrows rose slightly, but she said nothing. Hermione fought the urge to squirm under her scrutiny, instead forcing herself to meet the Headmistress's gaze steadily while focusing on the warmth of Viktor's arm.

Finally, the older witch gave a small nod. "Very well," she said, gesturing towards the far wall where Professor Snape's portrait hung. "I trust you'll inform me if there's anything I need to know?"

"Of course, Professor," Hermione assured her, relief flooding through her as they moved toward Snape's portrait.

He's just a portrait.

The painted figure of Severus Snape looked at them with his usual disdain. "Well, well," he drawled, "if it isn't Miss Know-It-All and her Bulgarian companion." His gaze flickered briefly to Viktor, the corners of his mouth tightening ever so slightly.

She blushed, feeling both embarrassed and irritated. It seemed even as a portrait, Professor Snape could still get under her skin.

Hermione swallowed hard. "Professor Snape, we, me and Viktor to be precise, we, um, we need your help."

Snape arched a single brow, his lips curling into a sardonic smile. "How shocking. Truly. Miss Granger requiring assistance? Surely the world must be ending."

Viktor's jaw tensed, his fists clenching at his sides. Hermione brushed her fingers against his. The last thing he needed was for Viktor to get into an argument. "It's about these tattoos that just appeared this morning." She held out her arm, revealing the intricate design that now adorned her skin.

Professor Snape leaned forward in his frame, his eyes narrowing as he examined the tattoo. "Interesting," he murmured, his tone losing some of its sarcasm. "And you say you've both developed these markings?"

Viktor shook his head, rolling up his sleeve to reveal his own matching tattoo. Professor Snape's eyes darted between the two designs, his brow furrowing.

After a long moment, the potion master’s gaze snapped back to Hermione's face. "Where is the potion?" he asked abruptly.

Hermione blinked. "Potion? What potion?"

Professor Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Come now, Miss Granger. Surely your vaunted intellect hasn't completely abandoned you. The potion that undoubtedly caused this predicament."

What was he talking about? Her mind reeled trying to make the connection the professor seemed to think was obvious. She glanced at Viktor, who shrugged his shoulders.

The portrait sighed dramatically. "I need to see the potion, you dunderheads. It's clearly the source of your embellishments."

And suddenly, it clicked. The potion from the hag. The restoration potion she'd taken in a moment of desperation. Hermione felt the blood drain from her face as the realization hit her like a wrecking ball to the stomach.

"Oh no," she whispered. "Oh no, no, no."

Viktor put his hand on her shoulder, looking worried."Her-my-oh-knee? Vot is it?"

She turned to him, feeling guilty and panicked. "Viktor, I... I did something incredibly stupid." Her voice shook as she continued, "I bought a magic replenishing potion from a hag in Knockturn Alley."

"The tonic?" he asked.

"Yes! No! I mean it wasn't a tonic, it was a potion. It was supposed to help me with my magic."

. Viktor's brow quirked up, while Professor Snape's portrait let out a bark of laughter that was entirely devoid of humor.

"Bravo, bravo Miss Granger," Snape drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I must say, I'm almost impressed. You, the brightest witch of your age, willingly purchased a potentially dangerous potion from a hag in Knockturn Alley , and now you find yourself in this... predicament." He fixed Hermione with a withering stare. "How utterly foolish of you."

Viktor stiffened.

Hermione felt her cheeks flush with shame, and she ducked her head. "I know, Professor," she murmured. "It was a reckless decision, but I was desperate to find a way to restore Hogwarts more quickly. I thought..." She trailed off, the words catching in her throat.

Snape let out a derisive snort. "You thought ?" he sneered. "Clearly, that was your first mistake." He leaned forward in his frame, his obsidian eyes boring into Hermione. "And now you come to me, expecting me to clean up your mess?"

Viktor glowered at the portrait, taking a step forward, but Hermione stopped him.

Professor Snape's portrait rolled its eyes. "As entertaining as this display of idiocy has been, I'm afraid I have some rather unfortunate news for you both."

Hermione's head snapped up, dread coiling in her stomach. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, Miss Granger, that you've managed to entangle yourself and Mr. Krum in some very old, very powerful magic," Snape explained, his tone growing serious. "The kind of magic that isn't easily undone, especially not by someone of your... limited experience."

Viktor spoke up, placing a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Then vot can ve do?"

The potion master’s dark eyes fixed on Hermione. "You need to find the hag," he said simply. "She's the only one who can undo this mess. Her magic, her responsibility."

Hermione felt as though the floor had dropped out from beneath her. She was too embarrassed to speak. How could she have been so foolish?

"Miss Granger, this is now your problem to solve, given you have involved… other parties," Snape replied, a hint of his earlier sarcasm returning. "Perhaps next time you'll think twice before dabbling in magic you don't understand."

With that parting shot, Professor Snape's portrait turned and disappeared, leaving Hermione and Viktor standing in stunned silence.

As they made their way out of the Headmistress's office, Hermione felt as though she might crumble under the weight of her guilt and shame. They had barely made it down the spiral staircase before she turned to Viktor, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"Viktor, I'm so sorry," she said, her voice cracking. "This is all my fault. I've dragged you into this mess because I was too stubborn and too proud to admit I needed help. And now we're both stuck with these tattoos and-"

Viktor cut her off, pulling her into a tight embrace. Hermione stiffened for a moment, before melting into his arms. She buried her face in his chest, inhaling the comforting scent of broom polish.

"Hush, Her-my-oh-knee," he murmured. "Is not your fault. Ve vill figure this out together, yes?"

Hermione pulled back slightly, looking up at him with watery eyes. "But I-"

Viktor shook his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Look on bright side," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "At least now I vill not forget hov to vrite your name."

Despite herself, Hermione let out a watery chuckle.

Viktor's smile widened, and he gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze. "See? Not so bad. Ve vill find this hag, ve vill fix tattoos."

Hermione felt a warmth bloom in her chest, pushing back some of the guilt and fear that had been threatening to overwhelm her. She nodded, managing a small smile of her own.

"Right."

Hermione and Viktor made their way through the castle's winding corridors.

As they approached the main entrance, familiar voices drifted towards them. Hermione's stomach dropped when she saw Harry, Ginny, and Ron coming up the path.

Ron's face twisted with anger the moment he laid eyes on her and Viktor, he turned and stormed off in the opposite direction.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Ignore him. He'll get over it."

Harry's gaze flickered between Hermione and Viktor. "Any luck with the tattoos?"

Hermione felt her cheeks flush with heat. She glanced at Viktor, who gave her a small, encouraging nod. Taking a deep breath, she launched into an explanation, her words tumbling out in a rush.

"I... I did something rather foolish," she admitted. "I went to Knockturn Alley and bought a potion from a hag. That's what caused the tattoos. And now, Professor Snape's portrait says we need to find her again."

Harry's eyes widened in disbelief. "Hermione, are you mad?" he exclaimed, his voice rising. "Knockturn Alley? With Death Eaters still at large? Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?"

Hermione flinched at his harsh tone, but held her tongue, knowing he was completely right. She turned to Ginny, hoping for some understanding, but the younger girl's expression mirrored Harry's disapproval.

"Harry's right, Hermione," Ginny said softly. "That was incredibly risky. You could have been hurt, or worse."

Hermione felt ashamed. She knew it was a stupid idea, but hearing Harry say it made her feel even worse.

But then Viktor's warm hand settled on her shoulder. He stepped forward and looked at Harry.

"Her-my-oh-knee meant vell," he said, his deep voice calm and steady. "She vanted to help. And this time, she is not going alone. I vill be vith her."

Hermione glanced up at him, her heart swelling with gratitude. She hadn't expected him to defend her, especially given how foolish her actions had branded him with her name. Yet here he was, standing by her side, offering his support.

Harry's frown deepened, but he seemed to consider Viktor's words.

"I understand wanting to help, Hermione," he said, his voice gentler now. "But you can't take risks like that. We've all been through too much to lose anyone now."

Ginny nodded in agreement. "We're just worried about you," she added.

Hermione swallowed hard. "I know," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I just... I felt so helpless, watching Hogwarts in ruins. I thought if I could just find something to help."

Harry sighed. "We all want to help, Hermione." He pushed up his glasses. "But you can't go around buying who knows what from hags."

"I know, I know," Hermione said.

Ginny squeezed Hermione's arm gently. " What's done is done. Good luck finding the hag" she said, giving Hermione a reassuring smile. "Be careful out there, both of you."

Hermione smiled. "Thank you, Ginny."

As she turned to leave, Harry cleared his throat. "Hermione, could I have a word? Alone?"

She hesitated, glancing at Viktor. He gave her a small nod.

"So, Krum," Ginny called out, "who do you think are the top teams for the European Cup?"

Before Viktor could answer, Ginny eagerly launched into a discussion about the Holyhead Harpies' latest match, whilst Harry led Hermione a short distance away.

"Hermione, what happened with Ron?" he asked quietly. "He looked... well, heartbroken. He wouldn't talk about it."

Hermione blushed hot as memories of the previous night flooded her mind. The library, Viktor's strong arms around her, the feeling of his skin against hers... She swallowed hard, trying to push the thoughts away.

She swallowed hard. I didn't mean to hurt him, but-"

"Did you and Krum...?" Harry trailed off, his eyes searching her face.

Hermione nodded, unable to meet his gaze. "Yes. We, um, you know," she mumbled, her cheeks growing impossibly hot. "Then Ron found us."

"In the library?"

She could only nod. Merlin, what possessed her?

"Bloody hell, Hermione, in the library?" He asked a bit louder this time.

Ginny and Viktor's heads snapped in their direction. To Hermione's horror, they both had the same smug look on their faces.

"Yes, Harry!" She quickly hushed him, but the damage was done. Ginny elbowed Viktor in the chest, a stupid grin across her face. It was Viktor who surprised her, though. He was smirking and shaking his head, which only made Ginny burst out laughing.

Hermione took Harry's hand and led him further away from prying ears.

Harry sighed, looking thoroughly disgusted, a look she understood too well. A look that she had also given him when she discovered him and Ginn... entangled in her dad's shed.

"Look, I'm just worried about both of you. You're my best friend. I just want to make sure you're okay."

Hermione's irritation softened slightly. "I appreciate that, Harry. Really. But it's complicated."

"I understand," Harry said, his voice gentle. "Just know that I support you, whatever's going on or isn't going on. And well, Krum seems like a good bloke."

Hermione's eyes drifted to where Viktor stood, deep in conversation with Ginny. "He is," she agreed softly.

She admired him as he talked. His strong jawline, the way his broad shoulders filled out his shirt, the intensity in his dark eyes. Hermione felt a flutter in her chest as she watched him. When he spoke to Ginny, his expression was neutral, almost stern. But then he turned, catching Hermione's gaze, and his entire demeanor changed.

His eyes softened, the corners of his mouth lifting in a small but genuine smile that made Hermione's heart skip a beat. She thought about his gentle touch, the way he'd held her close last night and felt a rush of heat that had nothing to do with embarrassment.

Viktor excused himself from Ginny and made his way over to Hermione and Harry. "Are you ready?" he asked, his voice low and warm.

Hermione nodded, suddenly eager to be alone with him again. "Yes," she said, surprised by the breathiness in her voice. "Let's go."

The world spun and compressed, squeezing Hermione through an impossibly tight tunnel. Her stomach lurched as she clung tightly to Viktor's arm, his solid presence her only anchor in the dizzying vortex of Apparition.

With a loud crack, they materialized in a deserted alley off Diagon's main thoroughfare. Hermione stumbled, her legs wobbly from the journey, but Viktor's strong hands steadied her. She looked up at him, a small smile of gratitude on her lips.

"Thanks," she murmured, trying to ignore the flutter in her stomach at his touch.

Viktor shook his head, his dark eyes scanning their surroundings. "Ve should be careful," he said softly. "This place... it does not feel right."

They made their way towards Knockturn Alley. The memory of her last visit here, of the hag's unsettling smile and the strange potion made her shiver.

As they turned the corner into the shadowy alley, Hermione's breath caught in her throat. The dingy shopfront of "Eldritch Elixirs" was shuttered, a heavy padlock on the door. A crudely scrawled sign hung in the grimy window: "Closed Until Further Notice."

"No," Hermione whispered, her stomach dropping. "No, no, no. This can't be happening."

Viktor placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Ve vill find another vay," he assured her, but Hermione could hear the doubt in his voice.

She approached the shop, peering through a crack in the boards. The interior was dark and empty, with no sign of the hag or her mysterious potions. Frustration and fear bubbled up inside her. How were they supposed to fix this now?

"Maybe someone knows vhere she vent," Viktor suggested, his eyes scanning Knockturn Alley.

Hermione nodded, trying to quell the panic rising in her chest. They had to find the hag. There was no other choice. She had to fix this.

They approached a group of wizards huddled near the entrance to Borgin and Burkes, their faces hidden beneath heavy hoods. Hermione's skin crawled as they turned to look at her and Viktor, but she steeled herself. She needed answers.

"Excuse me," she said, forcing her voice to remain steady. "We're looking for the witch who runs Eldritch Elixirs. Do you know where she might have gone?"

One of the wizards, a tall, gaunt man with yellowed teeth, leered at her. "Depends on what you're offering, pretty thing," he drawled, reaching out a gnarled hand toward her face.

Before Hermione could react, Viktor moved with lightning speed. He grabbed the wizard's wrist, slamming it against the wall with enough force to make the man yelp in pain.

"Do not touch her," Viktor growled, his voice low and dangerous. The other wizards backed away, clearly not wanting to tangle with the imposing Bulgarian.

She'd never seen Viktor like this before, all raw power and protective fury. It was intoxicating and hot.

The wizard whimpered, his bravado evaporating. "Alright, alright! I don't know nothing about no hag, I swear!"

Viktor released him, and the group scurried away, casting fearful glances over their shoulders. Hermione let out a shaky breath.

"Are you okay?" Viktor asked softly, his hand gentle on her arm.

Hermione nodded, unable to find her voice for a moment. When she finally spoke, it came out as a whisper. "Yes. Thank you."

They continued their search, questioning shopkeepers and passersby, but no one seemed to know – or was willing to say – what had happened to the mysterious hag. With each dead end, Hermione felt her hope slipping away. What if they never found her? What if they were stuck with these tattoos forever?

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the cobblestones, Hermione was ready to admit defeat. But then, as they passed a dimly lit apothecary, a raspy voice called out to them.

"Psst! You two. Looking for the old crone, are ya?"

Hermione whirled around to see an ancient witch peering at them from the doorway. Her face was a mass of wrinkles, her eyes milky with cataracts, but there was a knowing glint in them.

"Yes," she said eagerly, stepping closer. "Do you know where she is?"

The old witch cackled. "Oh, aye. I know where she's gone. But information like that comes with a price."

Hermione's hand instinctively went to her pocket, but Viktor stepped forward, producing a small pouch that clinked with the sound of coins. "Name your price," he said firmly.

The witch's fingers snatched the pouch greedily. She weighed it in her hand, then nodded, seemingly satisfied. "The old hag's gone back to her roots," she croaked. "Took off for Ireland, she did. Said something about needing to reconnect with the old magic."

Ireland? That was a start, but the mountains of Ireland were vast. How would they ever find her?

As if reading her thoughts, the witch continued. "Look for the Hag's Tooth," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "It's a jagged peak in the Wicklow Mountains. That's where you'll find her if you're brave enough to look."

With that cryptic message, the old witch retreated into her shop, the door slamming shut behind her. Hermione stood there. The Hag's Tooth. It wasn't much, but it was more than they had before.

She turned to Viktor, seeing her own determination reflected in his eyes. "We need to go back to Hogwarts," she said. "Get supplies, do some research on this Hag's Tooth. If we're going to trek through the Irish mountains, we need to be prepared."

Viktor shook his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "You alvays have a plan," he said, a note of admiration in his voice that made Hermione's cheeks warm. There was no sarcasm, no annoyance, just admiration.

As they prepared to Apparate back to Hogwarts, Hermione felt a mix of excitement and trepidation. They were one step closer to solving this mystery, to undoing the magical tattoos that bound them together. But a small part of her, a part she wasn't quite ready to examine too closely, wondered if she really wanted to undo this connection with Viktor.

She pushed the thought aside as Viktor's arm wrapped around her waist, preparing for Side-Along Apparition. There would be time to sort out her feelings later. They had a hag to find and a mountain to climb.

With a crack, they disappeared from Knockturn Alley.

#fanfic #hermione granger #viktor krum #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #hp #viktor krum x hermione granger #hermione x viktor #vikmione #krumione

1 note · View note

littlesweetchurro · 1 year ago

Text

Frayed Nerves

Chapter Four

✨Content: 18+ NSFW

✨W.C: 2511

✨ Also on AO3

Viktor stirred awake as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the library windows. His body ached from sleeping in an awkward position, but a warm, soft weight beside him made him forget the pain. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the soft morning light, and looked down to find Hermione snuggled against him, her hair a wild mess on his chest.

For a moment, he thought he must still be dreaming. He blinked, trying to make sense of it all. Last night's events flooded back – the research, the electric tension, and then the softness of her lips, the urgency of her touch, the way she moaned his name as she came.

Viktor smiled. He’d come here to make amends, to help rebuild. Not to end up in bed with Hermione Granger.

Yet here he was. He pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head.

Hermione slept peacefully. Viktor felt a whirlwind of emotions. Last night was a dream come true.

There had been something in him that snapped, like a frayed rope. He had struggled to stay in control of his emotions and his body, but that all tumbled away when Hermione looked at him with her lust-filled eyes. He ignored the nagging feeling in the back of his head that told him that this was too spontaneous, too fast.

He’d been happy just being friends. Now, he was confused. Was last night a one-time thing, or could it be the start of something real?

He wanted to talk to her, to know how she felt. He’d accept whatever she said, no pressure. He was grateful for last night, even if it was just a one-night thing. But a tiny part of him hoped for more.

Hermione stirred, her eyes blinking open slowly. Confusion flickered across her face before recognition dawned.

"Good morning," Viktor murmured, his voice still husky from sleep. "Hov do you feel?"

She blushed, "a bit sore, but I'm okay." She blinked and rubbed her eyes. "What time is it?"

"Early."

She nodded and brought the blanket higher in her body.

Viktor scowled.

"Her-my-oh-knee," he said gently, cutting to the chase, "do you regret vot happened?" He needed to know even if it broke his heart.

She was quiet for a moment, and Viktor felt his heart constrict. But then she shook her head. "No," she said firmly. "No, I don't regret it."

Relief washed over him. "I am glad," he said. "Though I vould haff liked things to haff gone slower, to haff made loff in a better place. But I am happy."

Hermione smiled up at him, and Viktor felt as though his heart might burst. But then her expression changed, her eyes widening in shock as she looked down at her wrist.

"Viktor," she gasped, "look at your wrist!"

He glanced down and was surprised to see a small tattoo there - Hermione's name surrounded by a heart. He looked back at Hermione's wrist and saw a matching tattoo with his name.

Hermione sat up abruptly, her voice rising in panic. "How did this happen? We didn't... we couldn't have... Oh Merlin, what are we going to do?"

Viktor, in contrast, felt strangely calm. He examined the tattoo on his wrist with curiosity rather than alarm. "It is not so bad," he said.

"Not so bad?" Hermione echoed incredulously. "Viktor, we have magical tattoos that appeared out of nowhere! How can you be so calm about this?"

He shrugged. "It happened for a reason, I think. And I do not mind haffing your name on my wrist."

"But-"

"Maybe it vill keep other vitches avay nov," he added with a small smirk.

Hermione swatted his shoulder.

"This is no time to joke around, Viktor! We need to figure out how this happened."

Viktor caught her hand gently and kissed it. "Ve vill figure it out," he assured her.

"I don't understand how this could have happened. We didn't cast any spells, we didn’t perform any rituals."

"Maybe is spell from the library?" Viktor suggested.

Hermione bit her lip, considering. "You might be right. We should research this, see if there are any precedents. Maybe check if there are any spells that would do this after... well, after what we did."

Viktor couldn't help but smile at her immediate turn to research. It was so quintessentially Hermione. "Ve vill look into it," he promised. "But first-"

Suddenly, a shadow fell over them, and Viktor looked up to see Ron Weasley standing there, his face contorted in a mask of fury. Weasley's eyes were red-rimmed, and his hands were clenched into tight fists at his sides.

"What the bloody hell is going on here?" Weasley's voice shook with barely contained rage.

"Ron, what are you doing here?" she squealed, bringing up the blanket to her chin.

"What am I doing here?" Weasley sputtered, his voice rising an octave. "I should be asking you the same thing!"

"What I am doing here is none of your business!"

"None of my business?" Weasley exploded, his face turning an alarming shade of crimson.

"Did you two fuck?"

"Ron, that's is not—"

"Did you?" He demanded, his chest rising and falling.

"That's-"

"Answer me damn it!" He took a step forward, his eyes blazing.

Viktor's jaw tightened. He slowly stood, meeting Weasley's angry stare.

Just as he was about to speak, Hermione stepped in. "Yes, we did," she said firmly, cutting through Weasley's outburst. "Though that is none of your business and there's no need to be so crude about it."

"You... you..." he sputtered. "You bloody whore! How could you do this?"

Anger flared in Viktor. He stepped between Weasley and Hermione, his eyes blazing. "Do not talk to her like that," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Weasley's face twisted with rage. "You fucker! How dare you!" he shouted. "How dare you have sex with my girlfriend!"

"Girlfriend?" Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "What are you talking about?"

But before she could say anything else Weasley's fist slammed into Viktor's jaw. Viktor saw it coming but didn't move. Part of him wanted the fight, a chance to hit back. The punch stung, but he’d taken harder hits on the Quidditch pitch. He stood tall, ready to return the favor tenfold, when Hermione’s voice stopped him.

"Ron, stop it!" she cried, pushing past Viktor to confront the redhead. "What is wrong with you?"

Weasley turned his fury back to Hermione. "What's wrong with me? You're the one cheating on me!"

Hermione scoffed. "Cheating on you? Ron, what are you talking about? We're not dating!"

Weasley's face crumpled, his anger replaced by hurt. "But we kissed," he stammered. "At the battle..."

"Ron, that was one kiss," Hermione said, her voice laced with exasperation. "It didn't mean anything."

"It didn't mean anything?" Weasley repeated, his voice cracking. "All those times we spent together, all those laughs, all those looks… you're telling me it meant nothing?"

"Ron, please," Hermione sighed, rubbing her temples. "This is ridiculous. You're my friend."

Weasley shook his head vehemently. "No, no, you're lying. We are together. We have to be." He reached out, grabbing Hermione by the shoulders. She tried to shake him off, but his grip tightened.

Viktor moved without thinking. He stepped forward, prying Weasley's hands off Hermione with firm but gentle force. "That is enough," he warned.

"So that's it then?" Weasley whispered, his voice barely audible. "We're just… done?"

Hermione sighed. "Ron, we were never anything other than friends."

Weasley's face crumpled. The anger that had been burning in his eyes moments before was replaced by a raw, vulnerable hurt. He looked like a kicked puppy, and for a moment, Viktor almost felt sorry for him. Almost .

"Are you alright?" Viktor asked, reaching out to touch her arm.

She flinched slightly at his touch but didn't pull away. "I'm fine," she mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

"He should not haff spoken to you like that," Viktor said, his voice hardening. "You did nothing wrong."

Hermione looked up at him, her brown eyes searching his face. "I'm sorry you got dragged into this, Viktor. I never meant for any of this to happen."

"Do not apologize. I am not sorry for vot happened between us."

A small smile tugged at Hermione's lips. "Neither am I."

"Maybe ve should talk about vot happened," he suggested gently. "Not just vith Veasley but between us."

She bit her lower lip, a habit he liked, before meeting his gaze.

"You're right," she said softly. "We should talk about... everything."

Viktor nodded. As they settled into the plush chairs, the soft lamplight caught the golden flecks in her eyes. He pushed the thought aside, reminding himself to focus on the conversation at hand.

"I do not regret vot happened between us," Viktor began. "But I vant to know how you feel about it."

Hermione's cheeks flushed slightly. "I don't regret it either. It was... wonderful. But I'm not sure what it means for us."

He leaned forward, his dark eyes searching hers. "Vot do you vant it to mean?"

Hermione hesitated, her fingers absently tracing the outline of the tattoo on her wrist. "I care about you, Viktor. I always have. But I'm not sure if I'm ready for a relationship right now. Everything's still so chaotic..."

"I understand." And he did.

"Ve should probably talk about these as vell," he said, holding up his wrist.

Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh! Right! "Do you have any idea what they might mean?"

"No."

"There must be something in the library about magic tattoos or spell backfires."

"I vant you to know that no matter vot these tattoos mean, or vot happens between us, I vill always be here for you. As a friend, or... more, if that is vot you vant."

Hermione's expression softened, and she squeezed his hand. "Thank you, Viktor. That means more to me than you know."

Viktor's brow furrowed. Hours they’d spent, buried in dusty books, searching for answers about the strange tattoos. So far, nothing.

He glanced at Hermione, her eyes darting across the page. Morning sunlight painted her face in gold, highlighting her hair.

He reached out, gently placing his hand over hers, stilling her frantic movements. "Her-my-oh-knee," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "Ve haffe been at this for hours. Perhaps it is time for a break?"

"But we have to figure this out, Viktor," she insisted, her brow creasing with worry. "What if these tattoos are dangerous? What if they're some kind of curse?"

Viktor squeezed her hand reassuringly. "I do not think they are dangerous," he said calmly. "If they vere, ve vould haff felt the effects by now, no? Plus I do not think the school vould harm us."

"I suppose you're right," she conceded, her shoulders slumping ever so slightly. "But I just can't shake the feeling that there's more to this than meets the eye."

"Then ve vill keep looking. But first, I think ve should get some food. You must be hungry."

As if on cue, Hermione's stomach let out a soft rumble, and a faint blush crept across her cheeks. "I suppose a break wouldn't hurt," she admitted, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Viktor returned her smile, feeling a surge of affection. "Good. Let's go eat."

The moment they entered the Great Hall, Potter and the Weasley girl spotted them.

"Hermione!” Potter called out, waving at the curly-haired witch. His brow furrowed as he registered Viktor next to her. "Krum? Why are you together? I thought you were supposed to be working with Neville over at the greenhouses, Hermione."

As they approached, the Weasley girl's eyes widened, zeroing in on their exposed wrists. "And what are those tattoos? When did you get those?"

Viktor exchanged a glance with Hermione, unsure of how much to say. Before either of them could respond, the redhead's face split into a mischievous grin.

"Oh my god, did you two shag?" she asked, her voice loud enough to draw attention from nearby tables.

Hermione's face turned a deep shade of red. "Ginny!" she hissed, looking mortified.

Viktor felt his own cheeks grow warm, he coughed into his hand trying to hide the flush. He glanced at Hermione. The way her honey-brown eyes widened, the slight parting of her lips – it was all rather cute.

Potter, on the other hand, looked thoroughly uncomfortable. "Gin, maybe we shouldn't–"

But the witch was already laughing, clearly enjoying Hermione's discomfort. "Oh, come on, 'Mione. It's about time you had some fun outside of those books of yours!"

Potter's brow furrowed. "Wait, what about Ron? I thought you two were dating?"

Hermione let out a weary sigh. "No, Harry," she said, shaking her head. "Ron and I were never a couple. I don't know where you got that idea from."

Ginny snorted. "Honestly, no one but Ron and you thought they were together, Harry."

Potter blinked. "But... the kiss, during the battle..."

"That was just a spur-of-the-moment thing," Hermione interrupted, her expression softening. "It didn't mean anything."

Potter let out a snort. "Yeah, well you might want to tell that to Ron," he muttered, earning a sharp elbow to the ribs from Ginny.

Hermione's shoulders sagged. "It's a long story."

"So," the redhead began, leaning forward with a conspiratorial grin. "Are you two, like, a thing now?"

Hermione let out a long-suffering sigh, running a hand through her unruly hair. "I told you, Ginny, it's complicated."

"Complicated, huh?" Miss Weasley mused, her gaze flicking between Viktor and Hermione. "Well, that tattoo on your wrist seems to be telling a different story."

"Yeah," Potter said, his gaze shifting to the tattoos. "What are these, exactly?"

Hermione's expression shifted. "That's just it," she said, her brow furrowing. "We don't know. They just appeared in the morning."

The redhead's eyes lit up with mischief once more. "Oh, I bet I know when they appeared. Right after you two shagged, am I right?"

"Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed again, her face impossibly red.

Viktor chuckled. His gaze lingered on Hermione, her cheeks tinged with that delightful shade of pink that seemed to bloom so easily. He recalled the previous night, how her body had responded to his touch, the soft gasps and moans that escaped her lips when he found the right spots to caress, to kiss, to claim.

His mind began to explore the myriad of ways he could make her flush once more.

"Ve do not knov why they appeared," Viktor said dryly, trying to steer the conversation and his thoughts back to safer ground.

“We've been searching the library all morning, but we haven't found anything,” Hermione explained.

Potter hummed. "That's odd. Have you thought about talking to Professor Snape's portrait? Maybe he knows something."

“The potions master?” asked Viktor.

Hermione nodded. “Yes, he specialized in dark magic potions.”

“I reckon if anyone knows about shady potions bought in Knockturn Alley is him.” Potter shot Hermione a glare. Viktor glowered at Britain's savior and instantly brought his hand to Hermione’s shoulder.

Potter cleared his throat. “He’d often go and deal with the, um, vendors there.”

"That's actually a really good idea, Harry," Hermione said. "I can't believe I didn't think of that."

"Da, it is. But first, let's eat. I am very hungry."

As they sat down to eat, Hermione's knee brushed against his under the table. He wondered if she was doing it on purpose, or if it was just an accident. He thought about putting his hand on her knee just to see if she would blush.

Throughout the meal, Miss Weasley continued to tease them mercilessly, much to Hermione's embarrassment and Viktor's amusement. He found himself enjoying the easy camaraderie of the group, even if Potter still seemed a bit uncomfortable with the situation.

As they finished eating, Viktor turned to Hermione. "Do you vant to go see the potions professor?"

Hermione nodded, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "Yes, I think that's a good idea. The sooner we figure this out, the better."

As they stood to leave, Miss Weasley called out, "Have fun, you two!"

Hermione grumbled something about "fun and Professor Snape do not belong in the same sentence."

#fanfic #hermione granger #viktor krum #harry potter #hp fanfic #hermione x viktor #viktor krum x hermione granger

1 note · View note

littlesweetchurro · 1 year ago

Text

Frayed Nerves

Chapter Three

✨Content: 18+ Loss of Virginity, NSFW

✨W.C: 3941

✨ Also on AO3

Hermione's eyelids fluttered open, a wave of drowsiness washing over her. She felt a comforting warmth seep into her, a much-needed break from the exhaustion that had been dragging her down. A pleasant pressure settled between her shoulder blades. It took her a moment, her mind still foggy with sleep, to realize she was leaning against something solid and warm.

Or rather, someone.

Viktor.

She was plastered against Viktor Krum's side, his arm around her shoulders. His head was tilted back against the wall, his dark hair falling over his forehead. She could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the faint scent of pine and broom polish.

Heat crept up her neck, flooding her cheeks. Mortification made her want to disappear. She had fallen asleep on him! How could she have been so utterly irresponsible? How long had she been leaning on him like this?

Carefully, she tried to disentangle herself, hoping to escape before he woke. She should have known better. Sensing her movement, Viktor's eyes fluttered open, his gaze locking with hers. His lips curved into a small, sleepy smile.

“Hello, Her-my-oh-knee” he murmured.

“Viktor,” she blurted, flustered. “I… I’m so sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep on you.”

"It is fine. You vere tired.”

His gaze was surprisingly gentle, and understanding. No judgment, no harsh comments she might get from Ron…

Ron.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably, the memory of Ron's sullen face and tight-lipped silences flashing through her mind. It had been like that ever since… since they had kissed in the Chamber of Secrets.

A triumphant kiss. A kiss to celebrate their victory over Voldemort.

A kiss that, in hindsight, should never have happened.

Ron had been acting strange ever since, almost possessive, clinging to her side, constantly seeking her approval. It was suffocating. And to be honest, it was more than a little annoying.

The kiss had been a mistake. A huge, monumental mistake. What in God's good name had possessed her?

She hadn't even enjoyed it. It wasn't fair to Ron, and it certainly wasn’t fair to her.

“You should get some more rest,” Viktor’s deep voice startled her from her thoughts.

“I can’t,” she argued, shaking her head. “There’s too much to do.”

He didn't try to argue further, to convince her, which surprised her. Harry would have launched into a lecture. Ron would have sulked. But Viktor merely shook his head, his gaze steady and understanding. It was oddly comforting.

A wave of exhaustion washed over her. She thought of the hag’s potion, tucked safely in her pocket.

Maybe, just maybe, it was time to take the risk. Hermione's fingers closed around the small vial in her pocket.

"Vot is that?"

"Oh, just an energy tonic," Hermione lied smoothly. When had lying become so easy? "I've been working long hours."

She uncorked the vial, and a heady aroma filled the air - something floral and intoxicating. Hermione's head swam as she inhaled deeply.

"Vot tonic is it?"

"It's, um, a special blend. A friend gave it to me."

His dark eyebrow quirked up and he shook his head. Before she could second-guess herself, she tipped the vial back, the liquid burning pleasantly as it slid down her throat. Warmth bloomed in her chest, spreading outward until her whole body tingled. The exhaustion melted away, replaced by a languid relaxation. Her skin felt hypersensitive, every brush of fabric sending shivers through her. Hermione's gaze drifted to Viktor. Had his eyes always been so intense?

She was mesmerized by the strong line of his jaw, the curve of his lips. Viktor's breathing had quickened, his hands clenched at his sides. A flush crept up his neck as he stared at her, pupils dilated. Heat pooled low in Hermione's belly. She licked her suddenly dry lips.

Yet when she met Viktor's gaze again, something shifted.

She'd always known Viktor was attractive, objectively speaking. But now... now she truly saw him. The strong line of his jaw, the breadth of his shoulders, the way his shirt stretched across his chest. Heat bloomed in her cheeks, and traveled lower until it settled between her legs.

They got back to work. or at least she tried to. Every time he reached up to place a book on a high shelf, his shirt rode up, revealing a strip of toned abdomen. Her eyes were drawn to the flex of his biceps as he lifted heavy tomes.

What was happening to her? This wasn't like her at all. She'd never been so... so distracted by someone's physicality before. Yet she couldn't seem to stop herself from stealing glances at Viktor, admiring the way he moved.

At one point, Viktor bent to retrieve a fallen book, and Hermione's gaze was drawn to the curve of his backside. She felt her face flame, her cunt throbbed and she quickly crossed her legs. This was madness. Complete and utter madness.

"Her-my-oh-knee?" Viktor's voice startled her from her thoughts. She jerked her gaze up, meeting his eyes. There was amusement there, and something else... something that made her pulse quicken. "See something you like?" he asked.

Hermione's mouth went dry. Had he caught her staring? The old Hermione would have stammered, blushed, and denied everything. But this new Hermione, the one fueled by a strange potion tilted her chin up, meeting his gaze squarely.

"Perhaps I do," she replied.

Viktor's eyebrows shot up. For a moment, just a moment, something flashed in his eyes. Desire. Want. Need. It was gone in an instant, replaced by his usual stoic expression, but Hermione had seen it, even if he tried to hide it now.

"You and Veasley—"

"We're not," Hermione interrupted. Too quickly, perhaps. "Ron and I—we're just friends."

Viktor studied her for a long moment. "I see," he said finally. "Like ve are friends?"

Yes, right? Viktor and her were just friends. Like she was friends with Ron and Harry. But she couldn't bring herself to say that, not when it felt like she was lying. She knew what he was asking, and maybe, maybe she was reading too much into the lines, but if his eyes were any indication of what he really meant, she was right.

"No, not like that."

She took a step closer to Viktor. He didn't move away.

"Viktor," she breathed, unsure what she was going to say next.

He reached out, brushing a stray curl from her face. His fingers lingered on her cheek, warm and calloused.

"Her-my-oh-knee," he murmured.

They were so close now. So close that if she lifted her hand she could touch him. He smelled good, making her head hazy. Her gaze dropped to his lips, full and inviting.

Viktor's hand cupped her cheek, tilting her face up. Their eyes met, his eyes were hungry. She swayed towards him, her body moving on its own.

"Her-my-oh-knee," he breathed, his accent so thick she barely registered that he was saying her name. "Can I kiss you?"

She needed to stop, she was not being herself. At least that is what she wanted to believe. A large part of her had wanted this—wanted him since she was 14, but she had been too scared back then to do anything. But now she had the power. If she wanted to, she could tell him no and walk away and she knew that Viktor would understand. He simply was that person. But she did want this, she wanted him.

"Yes, Viktor, you can kiss me."

And then he was kissing her, his lips warm and insistent against hers. Hermione melted into him, her arms winding around his neck as she pressed herself against his body.

The kiss was everything she'd never known she wanted. This kiss was not like Ron's. This kiss was passionate, and demanding. There was no fumbling, Viktor's tongue teased the seam of her lips, and she opened for him with a soft moan. She liked that he took charge, she didn't have to think, she just had to follow.

His hands roamed her body. Hermione arched into his touch, desperate for more. She tangled her fingers in his hair, tugging lightly, and was rewarded with a low growl that had her clenching her legs.

Viktor backed her up against a bookshelf, his body pinning her. Hermione gasped as she felt the evidence of his arousal pressing against her stomach. She rolled her hips experimentally, drawing a groan from Viktor.

"Her-my-oh-knee," he panted, breaking the kiss to trail his lips along her jaw. "Ve should stop. This is... this is too fast."

Hermione whined in protest, pulling him back for another searing kiss. "I don't want to stop," she murmured against his lips. "I want you, Viktor. All of you."

Viktor groaned, his resolve visibly crumbling. He captured her lips again, the kiss deep and hungry. His hands slid down to her thighs, lifting her easily. Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist, gasping at the friction.

"Not here," Viktor said, his voice rough with desire. "Not like this. You deserve better."

He was right. But Hermione didn’t care. There was this intense, overwhelming need in her that demanded release.

"Please, Viktor," she whined.

"Her-my-oh-knee," he tried again. She could see the conflict in his face, but she needed this.

"I am sure, please ."

His jaw set and she brushed her fingers along the edge of it.

"Please."

Hermione's heart thundered as Viktor's lips met hers again. Her body, her nipples, her cunt, everything tingled with each touch, craving more. She grasped his strong shoulders, pulling him closer as she backed into the shadows of the towering bookshelves.

Merlin this was all kinds of wrong, but she didn't care.

"We should go somewhere more private," she whispered breathlessly between kisses.

Viktor shook his head, following as she led him deeper into the maze-like stacks. They ducked into a secluded alcove, hidden from view. Hermione's back pressed against the cool stone wall as Viktor's muscular form pinned her there. His hands roamed her body, she closed her eyes, enjoying the way his calluses scraped against her skin.

She ran her fingers through his short dark hair. Their kisses grew more heated and urgent. Hermione felt dizzy with desire, her legs weak. She clung to Viktor for support as his lips trailed along her jaw and down her neck.

Viktor's lips traveled along the column of her neck, his teeth grazing her pulse point in a way that had her closing her eyes. Her hands, almost of their own accord, found their way under the hem of his shirt, fingers splayed across the firm muscles, tracing the contours of his broad back. His warmth against the cool stone was electric.

His fingers were equally exploratory, deftly working the buttons of her blouse with a quiet, undeniable confidence that left her feeling both exposed and exhilarated. Each newly bared inch of skin was met with a reverent kiss or a soft caress, stoking the fire of her flushed face. Hermione's head fell back against the wall, her eyes fluttering closed as she surrendered to the sensation of his touch.

She held her breath. Viktor's hand boldly ventured southward, his fingers tracing the edge of her jeans before slipping beneath the denim. The warmth of his touch met the damp fabric of her knickers. She gasped, gripping his shoulders hard. Her lips parted, a soft, needy moan slipping out as she bit down on her lower lip, her body instinctively arching.

"Wait," she managed to breathe out. "I... I've never done this before."

Viktor's movements stilled, he lifted his head to meet her gaze, his dark eyes searching hers. "You are virgin?"

Her cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson as she nodded, her eyes unable to hold his steady gaze.

A tender smile graced Viktor's lips, his voice was gentle. "Is okay. Ve go slov. I make you feel good, yes?"

Hermione's heart fluttered. He clearly was very experienced, and while she should have felt incompetent she didn't.

He stopped and Hermione furrowed her brow.

"Why did you stop?"

"I need you to tell me it is okay, Her-my-oh-knee."

"It's okay, Viktor."

"You are sure?"

"Yes."

"You sure?"

Hermione playfully rolled her eyes. "Yes, Viktor I am sure."

"Okay, kote."

Viktor leaned in, capturing her lips in a soft, lingering kiss as his fingers continued. They danced gently over the thin fabric that separated his skin from hers, each caress only made her wetter.

"I vill take care of you," he whispered against her skin. "Just relax."

A whimper escaped Hermione's throat as the sensations became almost too much. Her body was alive with a fire she had never known, each touch, each kiss from Viktor stoking the flames higher. In this moment, she didn't have to worry about anything, in this moment she was his —completely and irrevocably his —and she surrendered to the delicious sensations that threatened to overwhelm her.

Glancing around, Viktor spotted a sturdy wooden table nearby. With a flick of his wand, he transfigured it into a plush velvet couch. He guided Hermione to lie down, hovering over her as they continued kissing.

With a shuddering gasp, Viktor's skilled fingers slip beneath her knickers. Her body was a symphony of sensations, each touch sending sparks through her veins. His fingers explored her slick folds. Hermione arched into his touch, her body wanted more.

As Viktor's thumb found her clit she let out a soft cry, "Oh!"

"Are you okay?"

"Y-yes."

Viktor slowly experimented with his touch. He tried out several movements, each one making her skin prickle. His fingers pressed and danced over her swollen clit, varying the pressure.

Then he found it. The perfect pressure. "Gods, Viktor! That feels— Oh!" Instead of slowing down, he kept up the delicious rhythm. He kissed her neck, her jaw, her temple, his delicious fingers working her clit to an abandon Hermione didn't know was possible.

A coiling sensation built within her, each pass of his thumb had her toes curled.

He slid a finger inside her. "Ah!"

The sensation was unfamiliar, yet it made her want more. Hermione relished the feeling of his finger exploring her wet cunt. Viktor's movements were slow and gentle, a delicious dance of new sensations that Hermione found herself eager to follow.

At first, she could only lay there, overwhelmed by the tidal wave of pleasure that washed over her. But as Viktor's rhythm grew steadier, Hermione felt her own body begin to respond. Her hips began to rock against his hand, their rhythm becoming one as she sought more of the exquisite sensation.

Clutching at his shoulders, Hermione moaned softly, the sounds lost against his neck. Her breath came in shallow gasps, every inhale a desperate attempt to draw in more air.

"That is it," he whispered against her ear. "Let go, kote. I haff you. Let go."

He had her.

Those words undid her. A few more expert strokes of his fingers, and Hermione was tumbling over the edge. Her body convulsed, waves of ecstasy washing over her. She buried her face against his neck, muffling her cries.

As she came down from her high, Viktor whispered a lubrication and contraceptive spell. He positioned himself between her thighs, looking into her eyes.

"You ready?" he asked softly.

Hermione nodded.

"Vords, Her-my-oh-knee."

"Y-yes, I am sure," she answered, pulling him down for a deep kiss.

Hermione's mind was consumed by the fact she was about to lose her virginity to Viktor Krum in the library. She waited to feel regret, shame, anything but all she felt was excitement and anticipation.

Viktor's cock gently brushed against her swollen, aching cunt. She wanted him to fill her, show her what sex felt like.

"Please," she begged him, as she looked into his dark brown eyes.

Viktor's response was a soft, comforting kiss pressed against her forehead. "Tell me if it hurts."

"I will."

The intrusion was a sharp, unexpected contrast to the gentle play of his fingers. Hermione's breath hitched, a gasp caught in her throat as a fleeting wince contorted her features.

Viktor, ever attentive, immediately stilled, his dark eyes searching hers with a concern that tugged at her heart. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay really."

He paused, studying her face.

"Really?"

"Yes, really." If it wasn't for the stinging sensation, she would have smiled.

The head of his cock, hot and hard against her entrance, made her cunt throb with anticipation. His dark brown eyes locked on hers. His face was a mask of concentration, his movements slow and deliberate. It was like he was trying to bottle this moment, every touch, every feeling. He leaned in closer, his hands cradling her face.

When he was fully in her, Viktor stopped moving, his body tensed. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his jaw was tight. He tilted his head back, opened his eyes, and stroked her cheek, yet he didn't rush her, didn't move as she adjusted to him, the stinging slowly subsiding.

"Is okay?" he reassured her with soft kisses on her temple.

"Yes, it's okay," she said softly, her hands moving to his back, feeling the muscles tremble beneath her touch.

"Ve can stop."

But Hermione didn't want to stop. She shook her head, her eyes locking with his. "No, I don't want to stop. I want this... I want you."

A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Alright, kote. Ve go slow." His voice was gentle, and caring.

As he began to move, Hermione found herself adjusting to the unfamiliar sensation of him inside her. Even with her inexperience, she could tell he was holding back for her. Each slow deliberate thrust allowed her cunt to adjust to his cock. After the discomfort ebbed away, she arched her back and found that the sting was replaced by a burgeoning pleasure.

"Oh," she moaned, letting out a sigh of pleasure at the feeling of fullness.

Viktor's movements were a careful, controlled surrender that allowed Hermione to set the pace. With each passing moment, each gentle thrust the initial pain was forgotten, lost in the growing tide of desire that was coiling in her.

She craved more.

She wanted to feel the raw, unbridled passion she knew he was probably capable of. She wanted a Viktor who didn't hold back, a Viktor whose face wasn't controlled. She wanted to see him flushed with pleasure, the same pleasure he had shown her earlier.

"Faster, Viktor," she rasped. "Please."

His response was a low growl. A sound she liked and instantly wanted to hear more of.

"Are you sure?"

Hermione nodded, her fingernails digging into the firm muscles of his back, her legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer. "I'm sure. I want all of you. The real you, not this you who is holding back."

The change in him was immediate. His control snapped, replaced by a fierce hunger--lust that made her heart race with anticipation. His eyes darkened, held hers as he began to move faster, his hips thrusting with a rhythm that was both primitive and beautiful.

Each drive of his cock inside her felt like a claim. The sound of their bodies coming together, the wet slide of his flesh against hers, filled the quiet library.

Hermione's breath came in shallow gasps, each thrust pushing her closer to the precipice. Her body arched to meet his, her own hunger matching his stroke for stroke. The friction of their bodies was a sweet torment, a delicious friction.

Viktor's hands, which had been cradling her face, now roamed her body with a reverent urgency. They explored the curves of her hips, and the swell of her breasts with each touch. She didn't know how it was possible that he could still make her wetter, but here he was with those marvelous hands of his.

"You feel so fucking good, Her-mi-oh-ninny," he ground out between clenched teeth. "So tight, so perfect . So beautiful ."

His words, raw and unfiltered, made her cunt clench around his cock.

"I'm close, Viktor," she moaned.

He smirked, he actually smirked at her. She opened her mouth but the only sound that came was another moan as his finger found her clit. She closed her eyes and threw her head back.

The world around them had ceased to exist. There was no Hogwarts, no restoration efforts, no war that had torn their world apart. There was only Viktor and the way he made her feel—cherished, desired, alive .

"Let go," he purred. With a final, powerful thrust and a tug at her clit, Hermione felt herself tumbling over the edge.

Her body convulsed around him, and waves of pleasure crashed over her. "Viktor!" The sound of her voice, ragged and hoarse, echoed through the library.

"мамка му," he moaned, his body shuddering as he came. His forehead rested against hers.

For a long moment, they lay there, entwined, their bodies slick with sweat.

"You vere amazing," Viktor cooed. "Hov do you feel?"

A soft smile played on Hermione's lips. "I'm fine," she assured him, her voice a bit hoarse. "It was, um, great."

Viktor shook his head and smiled. Really smiled at her, not one of those forced smiles she sometimes saw in Harry's Quidditch magazines.

He reached for his wand, muttering a quick " Scourgify " followed by " Tergeo ." The spells left them both clean and refreshed, outside and inside.

To Hermione's surprise, Viktor's hands began to roam her body once more, but this time with a different intent. His strong fingers kneaded her muscles, working out knots she hadn't even realized were there. He peppered her skin with soft kisses, murmuring words of praise that made her cheeks flush.

With a wave of his wand, Viktor transfigured a handkerchief into a hot compress. He pressed it gently against her stomach, the warmth seeping into her muscles. "This vill help," he explained softly. "Make you feel better."

Hermione felt a wave of gratitude wash over her. Viktor's thoughtfulness and care touched her deeply. She had never expected him to be so attentive, so sweet. Yet again she never expected to have sex with him, but here she was. Now that the fog of lust had lifted she was expecting to feel regret, shame at the very least for defiling the library, but nothing came, other than them, that was.

Another flick of his wand, and Viktor's discarded shirt transformed into a soft blanket. He settled beside her, draping the blanket over them both. Hermione hesitated. She still had so much to do.

As if reading her thoughts, Viktor nodded "You haff done enough," he said firmly. "The vork vill be there tomorrow."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest but found she didn't have the energy. Maybe the potion had a delayed effect? With a resigned sigh, she settled back against Viktor's chest, telling herself it would only be for a moment.

But Viktor was warm and comfortable, and Hermione found herself feeling surprisingly content. The stress and exhaustion of the past weeks seemed to melt away in his embrace. She snuggled deeper into his arms, a small, happy sigh escaping her lips.

Viktor's fingers found their way to the base of her neck, gently massaging the tense muscles there. The soothing motion, combined with the warmth of the blanket and Viktor's body, lulled Hermione into a state of deep relaxation.

As her eyelids grew heavy, Hermione's last conscious thought was how unexpectedly perfect this moment felt. Safe in Viktor's arms, she drifted off into a peaceful sleep, the worries of the world fading away, if only for a little while.

#fanfic #hermione granger #viktor krum #harry potter #hp fanfic #viktor x hermione #viktor krum x hermione granger #harry potter smut

9 notes · View notes

littlesweetchurro · 1 year ago

Text

Frayed Nerves

Chapter Two

✨Content: 18+ Loss of Virginity, NSFW

✨W.C: 2511

✨ Also on AO3

Viktor materialized with a crack, the familiar tug of Apparition pulling him back into the rolling grounds of Hogwarts. The Scottish air, crisp and tinged with magic, filled his lungs as he steadied himself. His eyes swept over Hogwarts.

He hadn’t seen the aftermath firsthand, the images in the newspaper had not done the wreckage justice. His manager had advised against coming, deeming it an unnecessary risk. “Focus on the upcoming season, Viktor,” the gruff old wizard had insisted, “Your place is on the pitch, not picking up rubble.”

But his manager didn't know what it was like. He didn't have his mind controlled by a manic, power-hungry wizard. A cold dread clawed at his insides. The memory of the Imperius Curse . The feeling of being a puppet, every move, every word, every thought controlled by another. He could see the image in his mind's eye: the dark wizard, a snake slithering around his neck, his voice echoing from the other's lips, spitting venom.

His body wasn't his own. It was a vessel, a mere puppet controlled by a master puppeteer. Each breath, each step, each movement, was dictated by the cold, calculating mind of another. He'd been a weapon, a pawn in a game he couldn't understand, forced to perform acts he'd never dream of in his right mind.

“Mr Krum, how good of you to come.” The crisp, Scottish voice broke through his thoughts. "Thank you for coming. Your assistance is most appreciated."

Professor McGonagall – now Headmistress. Even the ever-stoic Headmistress seemed a bit worse for wear. Her usually sharp robes were slightly askew, and a smudge of dirt marred her cheekbone. But her eyes, those piercing green eyes, held the same fire.

“Headmistress,” Viktor nodded, bowing his head slightly. “It is good to be back. I am sorry I could not be here sooner. Ve vere fighting the last vave of Death Eaters in Bulgaria."

His voice was low and measured, betraying none of the emotions beneath the surface. Shame. Regret. A desperate need to make amends. If he had been stronger, he wouldn't have attacked Fleur. If he had been stronger maybe Diggory would have lived. If he had been stronger maybe he would have prevented so many deaths back home.

The older witch's expression softened almost imperceptibly. "Many of our allies were scattered during those final days, Mr Krum. What matters is that you're here now."

Viktor shook his head. His eyes drifted to the castle again, taking in the full extent of the damage.

"Vhere do you need me?"

McGonagall gestured towards the east wing. "The Charms corridor sustained heavy damage. Professor Flitwick could use your expertise in reinforcing the magical foundations. She pointed towards a cluster of students hauling what looked like enchanted tarpaulins. “We could use your strength with those if you don’t mind getting your hands dirty.”

“Of course not, Headmistress,” Viktor replied, already rolling up his sleeves.

As he turned to head towards the Charms corridor, a bespectacled figure appeared in his path. Viktor nearly collided with Potter.

"Krum?" Potter stammered. "I, um, I didn't know you were coming."

Viktor straightened, studying the younger wizard. Potter looked older, wearier than he remembered. Though, if Viktor were being honest, he probably couldn't think of a time when the boy didn't look…haunted.

"Potter," he replied. "I came to help."

"Oh, er, that's good."

An awkward silence stretched between them. Viktor searched for something to say, aware of their shared history – competitors turned allies, but not quite friends. Acquaintances at best.

"Hov are you?" he finally asked, wincing internally.

Potter's shoulders relaxed slightly. "As well as can be expected, I suppose."

Viktor shook his head.

"How was it for you?" Potter asked, pushing up his glasses. "The war I mean."

Viktor studied Potter's face, noticing the faint lines of exhaustion around his eyes.

"The var in Bulgaria vas difficult," he said slowly, weighing his words. " Many vere lost. But ve fought the Death Eaters for months, they did not stop."

A muscle ticked in his jaw as he remembered the chaos, the destruction. Innocent lives were lost all because of one insane wizard.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," Potter said quietly. "The fighting here was intense as well."

Viktor gave a curt nod, not wanting to dwell on the horrors of the war. He had had enough of that. "And nov, I vill help here."

"Thank you," Potter replied, scratching the back of his neck."That is really nice of you. Hogwarts needs all the help it can get right now."

"I vill do vot I can, I vill be vorking vith Professor Flitvick."

"That's good, he's been needing another pair of hands."

“Have you, er...have you seen Hermione around at all?" asked Potter

Viktor's eyebrows shot up. "No, I haffe not seen her," he admitted.

"Ah, well, right, I'm sure you'll see her soon. She's been busy—like always, but she's around."

Before Viktor could say anything, he noticed movement across the grounds. There she was, Hermione Granger, with her wild curls escaping her ponytail, looking as brilliant as ever.

A small smile appeared on Viktor's face.

His smile faded when he saw Ron Weasley beside her, casually draping an arm over her shoulders. Memories of newspaper clippings about their new relationship flooded his mind.

He involuntarily scowled.

Of course, they are together now. It had only taken the Weasley boy literal years to realize the type of witch Hermione was. Viktor felt an unexpected pang in his chest and quickly suppressed the emotion.

No. No. She was his friend and as his friend , he was going to support her. Even if it meant dealing with the annoying redhead.

Potter shifted awkwardly beside him, clearly noticing where Viktor's glowering gaze had landed. The bespectacled wizard opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of whatever he was going to say.

Viktor's gaze returned to Potter. "Is Her-my-oh-knee vith Veasley?" he asked flatly.

The moment the words left his mouth, he wanted to smash his head against the wall. What an idiotic question.

Potter shifted from one foot to another."Er...well, you know..." he stammered, scrunching his nose. "Yeah, I think so, I mean yeah, they're...together. Seeing each other, I mean."

Why had he asked?

The confirmation, though expected, still stung more than Viktor cared to admit. She is a friend , he had to remind himself. Friends do not get jealous.

An excruciatingly tense moment passed between the two wizards. Potter looked as though he wanted to say something else, but seemed utterly lost for words.

Finally, Viktor broke the silence. "I should go and find Professor Flitvick," he stated brusquely. "Thank you, Potter."

Well, that didn't go very smoothly. But what else could Viktor do? Standing there Potter looked as though he wanted to tell him how great his friends were doing now that they were dating, but there was no way Viktor would willingly listen to that.

Without waiting for a response, Viktor turned and walked away. As he crossed the grounds, he glanced back at Hermione one last time.

A small, wistful smile appeared on his lips. Despite the lingering ache, he felt happy for her. She deserved happiness after everything she had been through.

Maybe they would catch up later, as friends . For now, Viktor had work to do — work that would help him focus on restoring the castle he once called home, even if only for a short time.

Taking a deep breath, he quickened his pace toward the Charms corridor, pushing thoughts of Hermione out of his mind.

Viktor's fingers traced the spines of ancient tomes. The familiar scent of parchment and ink filled his nostrils and brought back memories of late-night study sessions and stolen glances across crowded tables. Of simpler times.

He'd always loved the Hogwarts library. It was the quietest place in the castle. Which was why he was here. Today had been so loud, the younger students hadn't stopped asking for autographs and Quidditch advice.

He closed his eyes but snapped them open as a flash of movement passed by. Bushy brown hair, a stack of books teetering precariously.

"Her-my-oh-nee?"

She whirled around, nearly dropping her tower of books. "Viktor? Viktor Krum is that you?"

"Da. Unless you knov of other Viktors."

Her brow furrowed as she continued to stare at him.

"Wh-what are you doing here?"

He moved quickly, steadying the wobbling stack.

"Here," he offered

Their fingers brushed as he took the books. Her hands were soft. Friends could still appreciate the softness of the other's hands, right?

"Thank you," Hermione said, a slight flush coloring her cheeks. "I didn't know you were here at Hogwarts."

Viktor shook his head, following her to a nearby table. "I got here in the morning. Professor McGonagall vrote for me."

"That's wonderful of you to come," Hermione said, her eyes lighting up. "We can certainly use all the help we can get."

Viktor couldn't help but notice how tired she looked. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her normally vibrant curls seemed limp and lifeless. Yet there was still this spark in her, a fire in her eyes that he remembered all too well.

"How haff you been?" he asked, genuinely curious. "It has been a long time."

Hermione's smile faltered slightly. "It has, hasn't it? Well, I've been... managing, I suppose. Trying to keep busy with the restoration efforts."

Viktor shook his head.

"And you?" Hermione asked, her eyes searching his face. "How have you been?"

Viktor considered his answer carefully. How could he explain the nightmares that still plagued him? The guilt that gnawed at his insides?

"I haffe been vell."

Hermione's expression softened. "That's great Viktor."

An awkward silence fell between them. Viktor searched for something to say, anything to break the tension. Should he ask how long she and Weasley had been together? What happened after she left Fleur's party?

"So," he began, gesturing to the pile of books. "Vot are you vorking on?"

Hermione's eyes lit up, and Viktor felt a warmth spread through his chest. This was the Hermione he remembered – passionate, brilliant, always eager to learn. It was the same Hermione that had captured his attention those years ago.

"Oh! Well, I've been researching ancient restoration spells," she explained, her hands moving animatedly as she spoke. "I think if we combine some of these older techniques with more modern charms, we might be able to accelerate the rebuilding process."

Viktor leaned in, genuinely intrigued. "Vot spells are you looking at?"

As Hermione launched into an explanation, Viktor found himself captivated. Not just by the subject matter, which was indeed interesting, but by her enthusiasm. The way her eyes sparkled when she talked about something she was passionate about. The slight furrow of her brow as she worked through a particularly complex idea. It was all her. Even after the years had passed by, he had never met a witch quite like her.

"...and if we can just figure out how to properly integrate the Fortification Charm with the Ancient Rune of Stability, I think we might be able to create a much stronger foundation for the castle's magical infrastructure," Hermione concluded, slightly out of breath.

"It is good idea. But vot of the potential magical interference?"

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "Interference?"

"Vell, in my experience vith complex spell-veaving, mixing different magical traditions can sometimes create unexpected results."

He reached for one of the books, flipping it open to a diagram. "Look here," he said, pointing to an intricate series of runes. "These Ancient Norse symbols, they are powerful, yes. But they vere not meant to vork vith Latin-based incantations."

Hermione leaned in close, her brow furrowed in concentration. Viktor caught a whiff of her shampoo – something floral and light – and had to force himself to focus on the task at hand.

Friends definitely don't smell each other's hair.

Fuck, normal people didn't do that either.

"I see what you mean," Hermione said slowly. "But surely with the right calibrations."

"Maybe. But it vould take very precise calculations. One small mistake could unbalance everything."

Hermione bit her lip, a habit Viktor remembered all too well. A habit he had learned meant that she was deep in thought, and indeed, not flirting with him.

"You might be right. But I still think it's worth exploring. The potential benefits could be enormous."

Viktor smiled. Her determination was admirable, even if he thought her approach might be a bit reckless.

"You haff not changed," he said softly.

Hermione looked up at him, a mix of emotions flickering across her face. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" she asked softly.

He wanted to tell her it was one of the things he'd always admired about her. That her brilliance, both internal and external, though it had been her mind specifically, that had drawn him to her in the first place. But he couldn't say that. He couldn't say that she had one of those rare smiles that feels like a ray of sun in the winter. He couldn't say that as her friend.

"It is vho you are," he said instead. "And it vill never be a bad thing."

Hermione's cheeks flushed slightly, and she quickly looked back down at the book. "Well, um, thank you. I suppose we should get back to work then?"

Viktor shook his head, ignoring the twinge of disappointment in his chest he had no right to feel. "Da."

Viktor watched her as they worked. Watched the way her brow furrowed in concentration, the way her fingers traced the lines of ancient runes. She still possessed that same captivating energy that had drawn him to her years ago.

He noticed the way her eyelids drooped occasionally, and the slight tremor in her hand as she reached for a book. She was pushing herself too hard, he could see it.

"Her-my-oh-knee," he said gently, "Maybe ve should take a break? You look like you are about to fall asleep on this scroll."

"No, no, I'm fine," she insisted. "We need to figure this out."

But as the minutes ticked by, her resolve seemed to waver. Her body, as if with a will of its own, began to lean against his. At first, it was just a slight pressure, her shoulder brushing against his arm. But then, slowly, she seemed to melt towards him, until her head was resting against his chest, her hair tickling his chin.

Viktor froze. He could feel the warmth of her body against his, the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

Indecent thoughts, thoughts that had no place in this library or anywhere for that matter, began to flit through his mind, a dangerous, alluring swarm. Images of her, her hair tumbling down her back, her lips parted in a silent gasp, flickered before his eyes. He banished them as quickly as they arrived, but the lingering warmth of her body, the scent of her hair, was enough to set his pulse racing.

#fanfic #hermione granger #viktor krum #krumione #vikmione #harry potter #hp fanfic #viktor x hermione #Krum x granger

2 notes · View notes

littlesweetchurro · 1 year ago

Text

Frayed Nerves

Chapter One

✨Content: 18+ Loss of Virginity, NSFW

✨W.C: 2118

✨ Also on AO3

The stone disintegrated under her touch, its ancient magic fighting back against her spells. She wiped sweat from her brow, leaving a smudge of dust across her forehead. The Great Hall buzzed with activity, students and staff alike working tirelessly to rebuild Hogwarts after the devastation of the final battle.

"Reparo Maxima ," Hermione muttered, her wand trembling slightly as she poured her magic into the spell. The stone shimmered, cracks sealing themselves, but the effort left her dizzy. She stumbled back, catching herself on a nearby table.

"You alright there, Hermione?" Neville called out.

"Fine, just... tired." She forced a smile, not wanting to worry him.

Neville nodded. "We all are. But you've been at it non-stop. Maybe take a break?"

Hermione shook her head. "There's so much left to do. I can't just stop."

"You can take a break though," Neville offered with a small smile.

Hermione's head swam as she made her way to the bathroom, her steps unsteady. The cool water on her face helped but exhaustion still clung to her bones. She stared at her reflection, noting the dark circles under her eyes and the pallor of her skin.

"Just a bit longer," she whispered to herself, straightening her robes.

As she exited the bathroom, voices drifted from around the corner. She knew those playful lilts anywhere. Fred and George Weasley, along with Angelina Johnson and Lee Jordan.

"...new shop in Knockturn Alley," Fred was saying, his voice low and excited. "Sells the most potent magic restoration potions you've ever seen."

George chimed in, "Reckon I could use one of those, eh? I feel like a wall fell on me."

Hermione's ears perked up. Magic restoration potions? That could be exactly what they needed to speed up the repairs. What she needed.

"You can't be serious," Angelina interrupted sharply, "Knockturn Alley? That's a disaster waiting to happen."

"Aw, come on, Angelina," Lee said. "It might be worth checking out."

There was a sudden smack, followed by twin yelps of pain.

"Oi! What was that for?" the twins chorused.

"For being idiots," Angelina retorted. "Buying sketchy potions from Knockturn Alley? That's the stupidest idea I've heard all week."

"But they work!" Fred protested. "A customer told us-"

"Oh, well if a customer told you," Angelina's voice dripped with sarcasm.

Hermione leaned against the wall. She knew she shouldn't trust anything from Knockturn Alley, much less the twins, but if there was even a chance these potions could help...

"Look," George said, his voice serious for once. "We're not saying we should buy the whole stock. But if they really work, it could make a huge difference here."

Hermione bit her lip. Torn between the very logical voice of reason in her head that screamed at her how incredibly stupid this was and the desperate need to see Hogwarts restored. Maybe, just maybe, it was worth investigating.

Hours ticked by, and Hermione's patience dwindled. Each failed spell was another blow, leaving her more exhausted and annoyed than before. She watched as others around her made progress, their sections of the castle slowly coming back to life.

During a brief water break, she found herself mulling over the idea of actually going to the shop. It couldn't hurt just going to check it out right?

"It's probably just a scam," she muttered to herself.

But what if it wasn't? What if there really were potions that could help? The restoration was taking too long, draining her energy, her patience. If there was a way to speed it up, to make her more effective, wasn't it worth it?

Hermione weighed the pros and cons. The risks were obvious – unknown potions from a shady shop could be poisonous, cursed, or simply ineffective. But the potential benefits were worth the risks.

Professor McGonagall was hunched over a group of first-years, her face etched with weariness. Professor Flitwick hovered above the chaos, his magic strong but his body looking strained.

She needed to step up. Hogwarts needed her. She couldn't afford to slack off.

She stood, decision made. It was worth investigating, at least. She was clever enough to spot any obvious traps or scams.

"I'm heading out for a bit," she called to Neville as she passed.

He nodded, too focused on a particularly stubborn gargoyle to question her further.

Hermione's heart raced as she made her way to the apparition point. This was reckless, potentially dangerous and incredibly stupid. But as she looked back at the castle, a skeletal frame of shattered towers and gaping holes, its once proud spires now broken teeth, she knew she had to try.

With a deep breath and a silent prayer that she wasn't making a terrible, stupid mistake, Hermione turned on the spot and disappeared with a crack.

The crack of apparition echoed off the cobblestones as Hermione materialized in Diagon Alley. It was unrecognizable. Once a bustling, magical marketplace, it was now a desolate wasteland. Shopfronts were shattered, their interiors exposed to the elements. Debris littered the cobblestone street, and an eerie silence hung over the once vibrant alley.

Hermione's fingers tightened around her wand. This felt wrong. So very wrong. But she'd come too far to turn back now.

She dodged debris, heading towards the dark entrance of Knockturn Alley. The silence was replaced by whispers and shadows. People in cloaks moved quickly, their faces hidden.

Unlike Diagon Alley, Knockturn teemed with activity. Witches and wizards of all sorts crowded the narrow street, their eyes glinting with suspicion as she passed.

A hunchbacked wizard blocked her path, his breath reeking of firewhiskey. "Lost, pretty thing?"

Hermione's wand was in her hand before she could blink. "I know exactly where I'm going," she lied.

The wizard cackled, revealing blackened teeth. "Course you do, dearie. Course you do."

She pushed past him. This was madness, utter stupidity. How was she supposed to find one shop in this labyrinth?

But as she rounded a corner, her eyes locked onto a faded sign, half-hidden by creeping vines. The script was nearly illegible, but she could just make out the words: "Eldritch Elixirs."

Hermione blinked. It couldn't be that easy, could it?

She approached cautiously, her wand at the ready. The shop's windows were grimy, obscuring the interior. A pungent odor wafted from beneath the door – a mixture of herbs and something putrid.

What compelled her to open the door after that smell, Hermione didn't know. Though she assumed it was desperation mixed with nights of countless nightmares. Taking a deep breath, Hermione pushed open the door. It creaked ominously, as if warning her to turn back.

The interior was dimly lit, flickering candles casting long shadows across cluttered shelves. Bottles of every shape and size lined the walls, their contents ranging from mundane powders to what looked suspiciously like eyeballs floating in murky liquid.

"Hello?" Hermione called.

A rustling sound came from behind a beaded curtain. "Who seeks my wisdom?" The voice that answered was reedy and ancient, with an unsettling sing-song quality that did little to undo the knot of nerves in Hermione's belly.

Hermione swallowed hard. "I, um, I heard you might have some restoration potions."

A wizened old woman emerged from behind a beaded curtain. Her skin was sickly green, and her eyes, a vacant pale color, bored into Hermione with chilling intensity.

The smell and the creepy eyeballs should have been enough to warn her off. But the hag – that’s the only word Hermione could use to describe the woman – should have set all sorts of alarms off in her head. But her desperation was apparently louder.

"Restoration, you say?" The hag's lips curled into what might have been a smile. "Many seek to restore what was lost, child. What is it you hope to mend?"

Hermione hesitated. Revealing her true intentions to this… witch...felt foolish, reckless even. But what choice did she have?

"It's...for myself," Hermione said, hating the tremor in her own voice. "I've been working tirelessly, you see, rebuilding after...well, it doesn't matter. I need something to restore my energy, my magic."

The hag's milky eyes seemed to pierce through Hermione. "Ah, yes," the hag croaked, her voice like dry leaves crackling underfoot. "Toil and exhaustion. A common ailment."

She shuffled closer, and Hermione fought the urge to step back. "But tell me, child, what brings one so... pure to my humble shop?"

"I heard you had the most potent restoration potions," Hermione said. "Is that true?"

The hag cackled, a sound that sent shivers down Hermione's spine. "Truth is a fickle thing in these shadows, dearie. But power? Oh yes, I have power in spades."

She turned, gesturing for Hermione to follow. "Come, come.”

She really should go back to Madam Pomfrey and have her head checked out. Maybe she was suffering from a delayed concussion.

Hermione trailed after her, torn between dread and as much as she hated to admit it, fascination. The hag's gnarled fingers danced over bottles and jars.

Hermione's eyes darted from one strange concoction to another, each more unsettling than the last. There were jars filled with writhing, pulsating things that resembled miniature brains, their color a sickly shade of gray-green. Others held what appeared to be glowing, iridescent crystals, suspended in a thick, viscous liquid.

The Hag stopped in front of a shelf, her pale blue eyes glinting with a strange light. She picked up a bottle filled with a liquid that shimmered with an otherworldly glow. It was a deep, rich purple, like the darkest night sky.

"This, my dear, is what you seek. It is a potion of true restoration. Not the kind you find in those stuffy potions shops, oh no. This is the real deal. It taps into the very essence of magic, replenishes it, revitalizes it. The very essence of who we really are."

The vial glowed faintly, its contents shimmering with an otherworldly light. Hermione's breath caught in her throat. It was beautiful, mesmerizing...

And potentially deadly.

Hermione shook herself, forcing her mind to focus. "What exactly is in it? And are there any side effects I should know about?"

The hag's smile widened, revealing teeth that were just a bit too sharp. "Curious little thing, aren't you? The ingredients are... complex. Ancient. Some, perhaps, best left unspoken.

"The curly-haired witch leaned in, examining the shimmering liquid more closely.

"It's a special brew," the hag continued."It'll make you feel... renewed. Refreshed. Like you've just woken from the most restful sleep of your life."

Hermione's eyebrows knitted together. "That sounds... nice," she said cautiously. "But what about the side effects?"

The hag waved a gnarled hand dismissively. "Oh, nothing to worry your pretty little head about. Just the usual magical precautions, you understand."

Hermione didn't understand, not at all, but she nodded anyway. The exhaustion that had been plaguing her for weeks whispered temptingly in her ear, urging her to take the risk.

"However," the hag added, her milky eyes suddenly sharp, "there is one important thing to remember. When you're ready to take the potion, make sure you open it with someone you trust. Someone close to you."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "That's not very reassuring."

"Magic rarely is, child," the hag replied.

Hermione frowned. "Why? What happens if I don't?"

The hag's lips curled into a secretive smile. "Let's just say the effects can be... unpredictable without a grounding presence nearby. It's powerful magic, dearie. Best not to take chances."

Hermione's mind raced, weighing the potential benefits against the risks. The logical part of her brain screamed that this was a terrible idea, but the part of her that was desperate for relief from the constant exhaustion was all too eager to comply.

Yes, this was a bad idea. No reputable potions master would ever say that about their potions. Yet she wasn't in J. Pippin's Potions, she was in some dingy shop in Knockturn Alley.

Everything she knew about magical theory screamed at her to walk away.

But then she thought of Hogwarts. Of its broken towers and shattered windows. Of the exhausted faces of her friends and teachers as they worked themselves to the bone.

She thought of home.

A home she was going to fix.

"I'll take it," Hermione said, her voice firm. "How much?"

The hag's eyes glittered with triumph. "For you, my dear? A mere trifle. After all, who can put a price on restoration?"

As the hag wrapped the vial in shimmering cloth. Hermione's heart pounded with a mix of anticipation and fear, leaving her hands slightly trembling. She was taking a huge risk, but if it worked... if it truly worked...

Hogwarts might just have a chance.

Her home might have a chance.

#fanfic #hermione granger #viktor krum #harry potter #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #smut #Vikmione #Krumione

0 notes