Harry knelt beside Crouch's body, his wand moving over it in patterns as he cast another diagnostic charm. The results flickered in the air before him, faint gold lines that twisted and pulsed with information he couldn't fully decipher. Whatever magic had been used on the man was complex, layered in ways that made Harry's head hurt just trying to understand it.
The vines surrounding Crouch seemed to tighten slightly as Harry leaned closer. He watched them carefully, noting how they pulsed with their own energy, almost like they were alive in a way that went beyond normal plant behavior. The preservation magic woven into them was impressive but it was failing. Harry could see it in the way Crouch's skin had taken on a greyish pallor, in the way the blue tinge around his lips had deepened even in the few minutes since he'd sent his Patronus to Dumbledore.
Harry cast another spell, this one designed to measure vital signs. The results made his stomach clench. Whatever life force had remained in Crouch when Harry first found him was fading rapidly, like water draining from a cracked vessel. The man's magic felt thin, stretched to breaking, and underneath it all was something dark and poisonous that Harry couldn't identify.
"Come on," Harry muttered, trying a different diagnostic spell. "What did they do to you?"
The spell revealed nothing new. Just the same deteriorating readings, the same sense of something fundamentally wrong with Crouch's body. Harry's frustration mounted as he tried charm after charm, each one showing him pieces of the puzzle but never the whole picture. He was missing something, some crucial detail that would make sense of all this.
Crouch's face had gone slack, the muscles losing what little tension had remained. His chest, which Harry thought he'd seen moving shallowly before, now appeared completely still. The vines around him seemed to sense the change, their pulsing energy stuttering and weakening.
"Damn it," Harry breathed. He pressed two fingers to Crouch's neck, searching desperately for a pulse. The skin was cold, too cold, and he couldn't find any sign of life beneath it. "No, no, stay with me. Come on."
A flash of brilliant fire erupted beside him and Harry jerked back instinctively, his wand raised. Fawkes materialized in a burst of flame, his crimson and gold plumage shimmering in the darkness. The phoenix let out a mournful trill that seemed to echo through the trees, as if mourning what had been lost. Dumbledore appeared a moment later, followed closely by Moody, both men looking grim and alert.
"Harry," Dumbledore said, his voice carrying none of its usual warmth. His eyes went immediately to the body, and then to Harry's tense posture. "Show me."
Harry stepped aside without preamble, gesturing to where Crouch lay entangled in the mysterious vines. His hand was shaking slightly and he clenched it into a fist to stop the tremor. "I found him like this. The vines were already wrapped around him and there was this mist rising from his body. Chemical smelling, wrong somehow. I dispersed it but his condition has been deteriorating since I discovered him. I tried everything I could think of but nothing worked. He just kept getting worse."
Moody limped forward, his magical eye spinning wildly in its socket as it examined Crouch from every conceivable angle. His normal eye fixed on Harry for a moment, sharp and assessing, before he turned his attention fully to the scene before them. The scarred Auror's face was set in hard lines, his mouth pressed into a thin slash of disapproval and concern.
"How long ago did you find him?" Moody's voice was gruff, demanding immediate answers.
"Maybe four, five minutes. I sent my Patronus immediately after I realized who it was. I stayed with him, tried to stabilize him, but everything I did just seemed to make it worse. Or maybe it was going to happen anyway. I don't know."
"You did what you could," Dumbledore said quietly, though his attention was already focused on Crouch. "Sometimes that is all any of us can do."
Insert 1.
Moody turned his attention to Crouch, his wand already moving in complex patterns. Dumbledore had begun his own examination, his movements fluid and purposeful. The magic that emanated from his spells was far more complex than anything Harry had attempted, weaving through the air in intricate patterns that seemed to penetrate deep into Crouch's body.
Harry watched them work, noting how they moved with the kind of practiced efficiency that spoke of years of experience. This wasn't the first body either of them had examined. The realization was both comforting and disturbing. Comforting because it meant they knew what they were doing. Disturbing because it pointed to what kind of lives they'd led to gain such experience.
Moody's magical eye never stopped moving, taking in every detail of the surrounding area while his wand traced patterns over Crouch's body. His scarred face grew progressively darker as his spells revealed more information. Dumbledore's expression mirrored the change, the usual twinkle in his eyes completely absent.
"Merlin's beard," Moody muttered after a particularly complex diagnostic spell. "This is professional work. Very professional."
"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed softly. His wand moved over Crouch's chest, then his head, then back down to his abdomen. "The preservation charms are collapsing. And rapidly so."
"Triggered by discovery," Moody growled. His wand flicked toward the vines and several of them peeled back with visible reluctance, revealing more of Crouch's body. The man's robes were torn in places, his skin mottled with bruises and what looked like burns. "Someone wanted him found but also wanted to make sure he wouldn't survive long enough to tell anyone what happened to him. Cocky, clever bastard. Very clever."
Harry felt something cold settle in his chest. "Then he was still alive when I found him?"
"Was," Moody said grimly. He pressed his wand to Crouch's neck, muttering an incantation under his breath. The results flickered weakly for a moment before fading entirely. He tried again at Crouch's chest, then his temple. Each time the result was the same. Weak flickers that died almost immediately. "He's gone now. Died within the last few minutes if I had to guess. Maybe while you were standing here waiting for us."
The words hit Harry like a physical blow. He'd been here, had been trying to help, and Crouch had died anyway. The rational part of his mind knew there was probably nothing he could have done, but that didn't stop the guilt from creeping in.
Dumbledore's face looked carved from stone. "I concur. Mr. Crouch has passed. The preservation magic that was keeping him alive has failed completely."
They continued their examination in silence for several minutes. Harry stood back, giving them room to work, but his mind was racing. Crouch had been acting strangely for weeks now, missing important tournament events and appearing distracted when he did show up. Everyone had noticed but no one had questioned it too deeply. Now Harry wondered if they should have. If someone had pushed harder, demanded answers, would Crouch still be alive?
"These vines," Dumbledore said eventually, his wand tracing along one of the thick tendrils. The plant matter seemed to shrink away from his touch, as if recognizing a power greater than its own. "They're not native to this forest. In fact, I don't believe they're native to Britain at all. The magical signature suggests something from the Mediterranean region, possibly Greece or the surrounding areas."
"Stranglevine," Moody said, his magical eye fixed on the plants. "Rare variant too. Enhanced with preservation magic that's way beyond what these plants normally carry. Someone spent a lot of time and effort on this setup."
"Stranglevine," Dumbledore repeated thoughtfully. "Yes, I believe you're correct. Though I've never seen it used quite like this before. Typically the plant is used in healing, not as a murder weapon."
"Everything can be a murder weapon if you're creative enough," Moody muttered darkly. "These vines were modified specifically to keep Crouch alive while slowly killing him. Look at how they're wrapped around his major arteries, his organs. They were feeding him magic, keeping his body functional even as whatever poison was in his system destroyed him from the inside."
Harry moved closer despite himself, peering at the vines with new understanding. Now that Moody had pointed it out, he could see the careful placement. The way certain tendrils wrapped around Crouch's neck, his chest, his abdomen. It was precise and calculated. Whoever had done this had known exactly what they were doing.
Dumbledore's wand moved over Crouch's head again, the spell results showing something that made his eyes narrow behind his half-moon spectacles. "Alastor, look at this."
Moody moved closer, his magical eye whirring as it focused on whatever Dumbledore had found. He let out a low whistle. "Mental manipulation. Recent too from the looks of it. Someone's been playing with his mind like a bloody puppet."
"For how long?" Harry asked, unable to keep the question inside.
"Hard to say precisely without a more thorough examination," Dumbledore replied. His voice was heavy with regret. "But the residual magic suggests several weeks at minimum. Possibly longer. Mr. Crouch was being controlled, Harry. His behavior, his appearances, his actions at the tournament. It seems none of it was truly his own."
Harry processed this information, his mind connecting dots he didn't like the picture they were forming. "The Imperius Curse?"
"Possibly," Moody said. His wand was tracing patterns over Crouch's skull now, each movement revealing new information that made his expression grow darker. "Or a combination of potions and spells designed to achieve the same effect. Whoever did this was covering their tracks. Multiple layers of control magic, each one designed to mask the others. Can't say for certain what specific curses or potions were used until we get the body examined properly by someone with the right equipment. What I can tell you is that whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing. This is professional level work. Dark arts specialist, definitely."
"And the poison?" Harry asked.
"Let me see." Moody's wand moved to Crouch's abdomen, then lower. The diagnostic spells he cast were more complex than anything Harry had seen before, revealing information in layers that seemed to peel back like an onion. "Manticore venom. Diluted, heavily diluted, but it's definitely manticore venom. Mixed with something else too. Acromantula venom maybe? Hard to tell with how much his organs have deteriorated."
"Manticore venom," Dumbledore repeated, his voice grim. "That would explain the extensive internal damage."
"Aye. Even diluted, that stuff is nasty. Eats away at you from the inside, destroys your organs bit by bit. The preservation charms in the vines were the only thing keeping him alive this long. Once you found him and the trigger activated, those charms started failing and the venom finished its work."
Harry felt sick. He'd read about Manticore venom, knew how deadly it was. The idea that someone had deliberately poisoned Crouch with it, had kept him alive just long enough to serve some purpose before letting him die, was horrifying.
"There's more," Moody continued, his wand still moving over the body. "Look at this. See these marks here?" He pointed to several small puncture wounds on Crouch's neck, barely visible beneath the vines. "Someone was drawing blood from him. Regularly, from the looks of it. These wounds are at different stages of healing."
"Drawing blood?" Harry frowned. "Why?"
"Polyjuice," Moody and Dumbledore said simultaneously.
Harry's blood ran cold. "You think someone's been impersonating him?"
"It would explain the erratic behavior," Dumbledore said quietly. "And why Mr. Crouch seemed himself at times but not others. Someone could have been taking his place at key moments, making decisions in his name, accessing his authority."
"But who would have that kind of access?" Harry asked. "Who could get close enough to him to do all this without anyone noticing?"
"That," Moody said darkly, "is the question we need to answer. And fast. Because whoever did this is still out there."
The implications of that were staggering. Someone had murdered a Ministry official and had been impersonating him for weeks. What had they been doing in Crouch's name? What decisions had they made? What access had they gained?
Dumbledore straightened, his face grave. "The poison, the preservation magic, the mental manipulation, the blood extraction. All of it points to a carefully orchestrated plan. Someone wanted Mr. Crouch incapacitated but alive and functional enough to maintain appearances for as long as necessary. The question is why. What purpose did keeping him alive serve?"
"And who benefits from his death now," Moody added darkly. His normal eye fixed on Harry. "Which brings us to you, Potter. What were you doing out here? And don't give me some vague answer about taking a walk. I've been an Auror for thirty years and I can smell a half-truth from a mile away."
Harry met his gaze steadily. He'd been expecting this question and had prepared his answer. "Walking. I come out to the forest fairly often to clear my head. It helps me think."
"At night? In one of the most dangerous forests in Britain?" Moody's tone was deeply skeptical, his magical eye boring into Harry like it could see through his skull to the truth beneath. "You expect me to believe you just happened to stumble across a body while taking a casual stroll through acromantula territory?"
"I wasn't in acromantula territory when I found him," Harry pointed out. "I was near the edge of the forest, by the old oak. The spiders were further in."
"That doesn't answer my question. What were you really doing out here, Potter?"
"I already told you. I come out here to think. The forest doesn't bother me and I know how to avoid the things that might be a problem. I've been doing it since third year."
"The boy speaks the truth, Alastor," Dumbledore interjected, his tone mild but firm. "Harry has quite the knack for navigating the Forbidden Forest. I believe Hagrid mentioned finding him out here on several occasions, always perfectly safe and sound. He seems to have inherited his father's talent for mischief and rule breaking, though in Harry's case it manifests more in midnight forest expeditions than pranks."
Moody grunted but didn't push further, though his magical eye continued to scrutinize Harry as if trying to catch him in a lie. His attention shifted back to the scene around them, scanning the ground and surrounding trees. "No signs of struggle here. The body was placed, not dropped. See how the vines are arranged? Too neat. Someone took their time setting this up. They weren't rushed, weren't worried about being caught."
"Which suggests they weren't concerned about being discovered in the act," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. He moved around the body, his wand casting detection spells that revealed traces of magic Harry couldn't even begin to identify. "The soil here shows signs of recent magical activity. Transfiguration most likely. Someone prepared this spot specifically for Mr. Crouch. They chose this location intentionally."
"Why here though?" Harry asked. "Why the Forbidden Forest?"
"Because no one comes out here except Hagrid and apparently you," Moody said. "It's isolated, dangerous, and anyone who does venture this far in is more likely to get eaten by something than stumble across a body. Whoever did this was banking on Crouch not being found for a long time. Maybe never."
"But I found him," Harry said.
"Aye, you did. Lucky that. Or unlucky, depending on how you look at it." Moody's eye fixed on Harry again. "You've got a talent for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, Potter. Or the right place, depending on your perspective."
Harry didn't respond to that. What could he say? Moody was right. He did have a habit of stumbling into situations he had no business being involved in.
Moody knelt beside the body again, his expression troubled. "There's something else here. Another layer of magic I can't quite identify. It's faint, almost imperceptible, but it's there."
"Dark magic?" Harry asked sharply.
"Possibly. Or something older. Something that predates our modern classifications." Moody's wand traced a complicated pattern over Crouch's chest. "Whatever it is, it's tied to the preservation charms. Part of the same spell work but serving a different purpose."
"A tracker maybe?" Harry suggested. "To let whoever did this know when the body was found?"
Both older wizards looked at him with something like approval. "That's possible," Dumbledore acknowledged. "Very insightful, Harry. Yes, a tracking component would make sense given the circumstances. If the killer wanted to know the moment Mr. Crouch was discovered, that would explain the rapid deterioration upon your arrival."
"Which means they know someone found him," Moody said grimly. "They might even know it was Potter here who did the finding. If this tracking magic is sophisticated enough, it could have identified him specifically."
Harry felt a chill run down his spine. The idea that whoever had killed Crouch now knew Harry had found the body was deeply unsettling. It made him a witness, a potential threat. And if Moody and Dumbledore were right about someone impersonating Crouch, that person was probably still in the castle. Or somewhere close by.
"We need to secure this scene and notify the proper authorities," Dumbledore said finally, standing up. His joints creaked slightly with the movement, a reminder that despite his power, he was still an old man. "The Ministry will need to be informed. Cornelius will need to be told."
"Cornelius won't like this," Moody said grimly. "His Head of International Magical Cooperation found dead in Hogwarts' forest during an international tournament? The political fallout will be massive. He'll probably try to bury it, claim Crouch died of natural causes or some such nonsense."
"Nevertheless, it must be done." Dumbledore's expression was firm. "We cannot hide a murder, Alastor, regardless of the political implications. Mr. Crouch deserves justice and whoever did this must be found and stopped before they can do more harm."
"Aye, I know. Doesn't mean Fudge will make it easy though. Man's more concerned with his image than actually doing his job."
Harry listened to this exchange with growing unease. If the Minister was going to try to cover this up, what did that mean for the investigation? Would anyone actually look for Crouch's killer? Or would the whole thing be swept under the rug to avoid embarrassing the Ministry during an international event?
"Harry," Dumbledore said, pulling his attention back. "I must ask you not to speak of this to anyone. Not your… friends, not your fellow champions, no one. This situation is delicate and the fewer people who know the details, the better. Can you do that for me?"
"I understand," Harry said without hesitation. "I've got enough eyes on me already. I don't need more attention. The last thing I want is to be known as the person who found a dead body in the forest."
"Quite right." Dumbledore's expression softened slightly, though the concern never left his eyes. "If the Aurors require any additional information from you, I will of course let you know. For now, I think it best you return to the castle. You've had quite the night and I suspect you could use some rest."
"I could use a lot of things," Harry muttered.
"I'm sure." Dumbledore glanced at Fawkes, who trilled softly from his perch on a nearby branch. "Fawkes can take you if you'd like. It would be faster and safer than walking back alone."
Harry looked at the phoenix, who tilted his head and regarded Harry with intelligent eyes that seemed to see more than they should. For a moment Harry was tempted. Phoenix travel was instantaneous and would get him back without any risk of running into anyone who might ask questions.
But he shook his head. "Thanks but I can make my way back on my own. After all this, a walk by the lake might help clear my head. I need to think and I think better when I'm moving."
Dumbledore studied him for a moment, those blue eyes seeming to look through Harry rather than at him. Then he nodded slowly. "Very well. But please be careful, Harry. Whoever did this to Mr. Crouch is still out there and they are clearly very dangerous. If you see anything suspicious, anything at all, I want you to alert a professor immediately."
"I will," Harry promised. He looked between Dumbledore and Moody, both of them standing over Crouch's body like grim sentinels. "If there's anything else you need from me, just let me know. I want to help if I can."
"We will," Dumbledore assured him. "Thank you, Harry. Your assistance tonight has been invaluable. Not many people would have handled this situation with such composure."
"I've seen worse," Harry said simply, thinking of Voldemort. He pushed the dark memories away before they could take hold. "Good night."
"Night, Potter," Moody grunted. He was already back to examining the vines, his attention completely absorbed by the evidence before him. His magical eye spun in its socket, taking in details Harry couldn't even begin to perceive.
Harry turned and made his way back through the trees, leaving the two men to their investigation. Behind him he could hear them discussing preservation charms and tracking spells, their voices low and serious. Then the forest swallowed the sound and he was alone again.
-Break-
Natalia climbed aboard the Durmstrang ship, her legs still pleasantly unsteady from the evening's activities. The sensation was oddly satisfying, a physical reminder of what she and Harry had shared in the forest. Her body ached in all the best ways, muscles she'd forgotten she had making their presence known with every step.
A few students were scattered around the deck, most of them smoking or talking in low voices. She recognized some of them, fellow seventh years who often stayed up late. They nodded politely as she passed and she returned the gestures, exchanging brief greetings in Bulgarian. Her voice sounded normal, casual, giving nothing away about where she'd been or what she'd been doing.
She reached her room and pushed open the door, only to stop abruptly.
Viktor was sitting by the window, his broad frame silhouetted against the moonlight streaming through the glass. He was facing her direction, his posture rigid, and even in the dim light she could see the tension in his shoulders. His jaw was set in a hard line, the muscles twitching slightly like he was grinding his teeth. His dark eyes were fixed on her with an intensity that made her instincts prickle with warning.
"Viktor," she said carefully, keeping her voice neutral. "What are you doing here?"
He didn't answer immediately. He stood slowly and began walking around her room, his fingers trailing over her desk, her bookshelf, the small dresser where she kept her clothes.
He picked up one of her photographs, studied it for a moment, then set it back down slightly off center from where it had been.
"Where have you been?" Viktor asked finally, his voice deceptively calm. Too calm.
"Out," Natalia said. She moved further into the room and closed the door behind her with a soft click. "I went to the Forbidden Forest."
That made him pause. He turned to look at her, one eyebrow raised. "The forest? At this hour?"
"I wanted to see it. You know I like dangerous things. The forest at night seemed like the perfect opportunity."
"There's liking danger and then there's being reckless even by your standards." Viktor moved closer, his expression unreadable in the dim light. "The Forbidden Forest isn't called forbidden for nothing, Natalia. Those woods are filled with things that would kill you without a second thought. Acromantulas, werewolves, centaurs. Any one of them could have ended you tonight."
His hand reached out to touch her face, his fingers gentle against her cheek.
"It would be such a loss," Viktor continued softly. "To both our lives and this world if something happened to you. You're too beautiful, too vibrant to be snuffed out by some mindless creature in the dark."
Natalia felt her stomach twist. She knew that touch, knew the faux tenderness behind it. Viktor only acted like this when he wanted something or when he was about to make a point. This wasn't genuine concern. This was manipulation, a performance he'd perfected over their time together.
She pushed his hand away gently but firmly. "You don't need to worry about something happening to me. I can take care of myself."
"I know you can," Viktor said. "But that doesn't stop me from worrying. You're mine to protect, Natalia."
The possessiveness in his voice made her teeth clench. "We can talk more tomorrow if you want but right now, I'm tired and I'd like to retire for the night. It's been a long day."
Natalia moved to walk past him but Viktor's hand shot out with surprising speed. His fingers wrapped around her wrist firmly, and he spun her around to face him.
She whirled, her eyes blazing with sudden anger. "What's wrong with you?"
Viktor stared at her intently, his grip on her wrist firm but not quite painful. Not yet. His dark eyes searched her face. "Don't take me for a fool, Natalia."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm not blind." His voice was low and controlled, but there was an edge to it that made Natalia tense.
"What do you mean?"
Viktor's free hand came up to grab her face, his fingers gripping her jaw roughly. His thumb pressed against her cheek hard enough to leave a mark, tilting her head up so she had no choice but to meet his eyes.
"Any random person could take one look at you right now and tell exactly what you've been up to. Your hair is a mess even after whatever charm you tried to fix it with. Your lips are swollen, red from sucking face. You're walking like you can barely keep yourself upright, like your legs don't quite work properly anymore."
He pulled the collar of her jumper to the side with his free hand, revealing the marks that decorated her neck and upper chest. Harry's marks, vivid purple and red against her pale skin. Evidence of teeth and lips and passion that couldn't be hidden or explained away. Viktor's eyes darkened as he took them in, his jaw clenching so hard Natalia could hear his teeth grinding together.
"And then there's these," he said, his voice dropping dangerously. "Love bites all over your neck like some kind of animal marked you. Like you're his territory now instead of mine."
Natalia stared at him defiantly, and it angered him further.
"Who was it?" he growled, his fingers tightening on her jaw.
"What does it matter?" Natalia shot back. She tried to jerk her face out of his grip but he held firm. "It's not as if you care what I get up to or who I show myself off to. You've never cared before."
"That's different and you know it," Viktor snarled. "Everything you've done before was at my direction. I controlled who you flirted with, who you showed yourself off to. That's how our arrangement works."
"Your arrangement," Natalia repeated, her voice dripping with contempt. "Your control. What about what I want, Viktor? Or do my desires not matter at all in this relationship?"
"Don't forget your place," Viktor said, his voice rising slightly. "You agreed to this arrangement when we started dating."
Natalia wanted to scoff at the mention of this arrangement. A beautiful girl to help him in public, opening doors that would otherwise be closed. It got him favors, influence, and connections. That's how their society worked and she'd always understood that.
He stepped closer, crowding her space until her back hit the wall. "Having you on my arm serves a purpose. People look at me differently when I'm with you. They see success, see someone who has it all. The fame, the talent, the beautiful girlfriend. That image matters, Natalia. It matters to my career, to my family's standing, to everything we've built together."
"Everything you've built," Natalia corrected coldly. "I'm just the pretty accessory you parade around at parties and public events. The arm candy that makes you look good."
"And you've been well compensated for that role," Viktor pointed out. "Your family has benefited from our connection. Your father's business dealings have improved significantly since we started dating. Your mother's social standing has risen. Don't pretend you haven't gotten anything out of this arrangement."
Natalia couldn't argue with that. Her family had benefited from her relationship with Viktor. His fame and influence had opened doors for them that would have remained closed otherwise. But that didn't make it right. Didn't make her feel any less like a possession being traded for social currency.
"But this?" Viktor continued, gesturing at the marks on her neck. "This is different. I've never let you touch another man intimately. I've certainly never let you fuck someone else. You've crossed a line tonight, Natalia. A line that can't be uncrossed."
"Oh, I've crossed a line?" Natalia laughed but there was no humor in it. "That's rich coming from you. What about all those times I overlooked your little games, Viktor? All those late nights when you disappeared with the veela from the National team's mascot roster? Did you think I didn't know about that?"
Viktor's expression flickered but he didn't deny it. He couldn't. They both knew it was true.
"Every away game, every training camp, you'd disappear for hours with those veela," Natalia continued darkly. "I'd see the way they looked at you, the way you looked at them. And I never said a word because that was our arrangement, right? You get to do whatever you want while I stand there and smile and play the supportive girlfriend."
"That's different," Viktor said again, but his voice lacked conviction.
"How exactly is it different?" Natalia demanded. "Because you're the man? Because you're Viktor Krum, the great Seeker, and I'm just your pretty accessory who should be grateful to stand beside you? Because the rules apply to me but not to you?"
"Don't twist this around," Viktor said tightly. "What I do is my business. It doesn't affect our arrangement."
"Then what I do is mine," Natalia shot back. "You can't have it both ways. You can't keep your veela on the side while expecting me to remain your obedient little plaything. But that's not how it can work, can it?"
Viktor's eyes widened marginally at that.
"What do you mean by that?" He growled.
Natalia's laugh was sharp and cruel. "Let's not play dumb, Viktor. You need a veela's allure to even get it up. You're like an addict who can't function without his fix. Their magic is the only thing that makes you capable of anything in bed and you know it."
Viktor's face flushed red with a combination of anger and embarrassment. The accusation hit too close to home and they both knew it. "That's not true."
"Isn't it?" Natalia pressed, sensing the weakness. "When's the last time you managed anything with me without needing to visit your veela friends first? When's the last time you could perform without their magic pumping through your system like some kind of drug? Tell me, Viktor. When?"
He couldn't answer. They both knew he couldn't. The truth was ugly and undeniable. Viktor relied on veela magic to enhance his performance, had become dependent on it over the years. Without it, he was barely functional in bed beyond his hands and mouth. With Natalia, he'd never been able to maintain anything without the magical enhancement the veela provided.
"You expect me to be your toy while you can barely function as a man," Natalia continued relentlessly. "How is that fair? How is any of this fair?"
"I'm drawing a line here," Viktor said coldly, pulling himself together with visible effort. "You did this once. Fine. I can overlook it this time. But there won't be a repeat. Whatever happened tonight ends now. You're mine, Natalia. That doesn't change just because you had one night of rebellion."
"You can shove your line where the sun doesn't shine," Natalia spat. She jerked her wrist again and this time Viktor let go, perhaps surprised by the vehemence in her voice. She moved away from him, putting distance between them, rubbing at where his fingers had gripped her skin. "The only reason I'm even still with you is because of the scandal it would cause back home. Our families, your status as the star Seeker, all of it. Breaking up would be a public spectacle and you know it."
"So you admit it," Viktor said, his voice dangerously quiet. "You're using me for your family's benefit. Using my fame, my connections, my influence. And you have the audacity to call me manipulative?"
"And you're using me for yours," Natalia countered. "The difference is that I'm honest about it. You want to parade me around like some prize, show me off at parties and events while you go fuck your veela on the side? That's not happening anymore, Viktor. Those days are over."
She stepped closer to him, her eyes hard as steel. "I don't care about the scandal anymore. I don't care what our families think or what the public says or how it affects your precious image. But I know you do. Your family does. Your sponsors definitely do. So here's what's going to happen from now on."
Viktor's jaw clenched but he didn't interrupt. He could see where this was going and he didn't like it, but he also knew she had him cornered. She was right about the scandal. A public breakup would be disastrous for both of them, but especially for him. His image was everything in professional Quidditch. Any hint that he couldn't maintain a stable relationship, any suggestion that there were problems in his personal life, could affect his endorsement deals and his standing with the team.
"You can keep your affairs private and I'll keep mine private," Natalia said, her voice cold and final. "We'll play the couple in public if that's what you need to maintain your image. I'll smile for the cameras, hold your hand at events, do all the things a good girlfriend is supposed to do. But your days of controlling me are over. You don't get to decide who I talk to anymore. You don't get to decide who I flirt with or who I fuck. That's my choice now, not yours."
She moved even closer, close enough that he could probably smell Harry on her if he paid attention. Close enough that there was no missing the determination in her eyes. "Either you agree to that or we end this right now. Tonight. I'll send an owl to my parents explaining that we've decided to part ways amicably, and deal with whatever consequences come from that. I genuinely don't care anymore which option you choose, Viktor."
Viktor stared at her for a long moment, his jaw working as he processed her ultimatum. Natalia could see the conflict playing out behind his eyes. His reputation would take a hit if word got out about his dependency on veela magic. Her family would face questions about why the relationship ended. The media would have a field day, speculating about what went wrong, digging into their private lives for any hint of scandal.
It would be messy and complicated and exactly the kind of drama neither of them needed. Especially not during an international tournament where every eye in the wizarding world was watching.
"Who was it?" he asked suddenly, his voice tight. "Tell me who you were with tonight."
Natalia's expression flickered with something, just for a moment. Satisfaction maybe, or triumph. Viktor caught it, his eyes narrowing as pieces fell into place.
"Potter," he said, the realization hitting him like a bludger. "It was Potter, wasn't it?"
Natalia didn't even try to deny it. Why bother? The truth was written all over her face, in the way her eyes had lit up when Viktor said Harry's name. "What if it was?"
"That arrogant little bastard," Viktor growled. "I should have known. The way he looked at you by the lake, the way you looked back. I told myself it was nothing, just harmless flirtation. But you actually went and fucked him. You let that boy put his hands on you, put his mark on you like you're his property."
"I'm not anyone's property," Natalia said firmly. "Not yours, not Harry's, not anyone's. That's the point you keep missing, Viktor. I make my own choices now. And I chose Harry tonight. I'd choose him again tomorrow if given the chance."
Viktor's hands clenched into fists at his sides. For a moment Natalia thought he might actually hit something, might let his anger explode into violence. But he didn't. Instead he stood there, breathing hard, visibly fighting for control.
"This is your final answer then?" he asked, his voice dangerously quiet. "You're willing to throw away everything we have, everything our families have built, for some boy you barely know?"
"I'm not throwing anything away," Natalia corrected. "I'm setting boundaries that should have been set a long time ago. If you can't accept that, then yes, I'm willing to walk away. Are you?"
Viktor stared at her, his dark eyes searching her face for any sign of weakness, any indication that she might back down. He found none.
Finally, without saying another word, Viktor turned and strode toward the door. His movements were stiff, like he was holding himself back from something violent.
He paused in the doorway, his back to her. "This isn't over, Natalia. Not by a long shot."
Then he was gone, disappearing into the corridor beyond.
TBC.
Visit patreon.com/TheBlackEarl to read more of my work. All my fics run at least three months ahead over there. Thanks for reading!