sugarboy [viktor]

february 2002

“No exploding bonbons next order. Totally understood.” Honey Bea grinned and tapped the side of her nose as she offered the old man a wink. Even with the Ministry in such a disorganized mess, she couldn’t risk being overheard by the Exploding Bonbon Disposal Unit. She offered him one last smile before heading back the way she came, through the door and into the main way of Diagon Alley. She didn’t make personal deliveries much often these days, but she had a few other errands to do, boring ones like picking up potions ingredients, so she was using her day off to wander about down South.

She took a step towards the apothecary as she began planning out the rest of her day -- now that Valentine’s Day had passed, Honeydukes had a bit of a lull until Easter, which meant Honey would have plenty of time for more flavor and potion combination tests. But she didn’t make it very far, neither in her progress towards the next shop nor her thoughts. Her eyes had landed on a man a fair distance away, but he had the same shape and build of a man she was familiar with from the papers.

But it couldn’t be. It couldn’t couldn’t be Viktor Krum. Viktor Krum. In Diagon Alley. Window shopping. On a Thursday. Why was no one else freaking out? Maybe because it was Diagon Alley at midmorning on a Thursday and the only other people around were a couple of ancient witches walking at a glacial speed. She had stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes wide. She had seen him before, of course; she had already returned from Zurich to Hogsmeade before the Triwizard Tournament had started and she, along with the rest of Hogsmeade, had watched the tasks.

Her parents still owned Honeydukes then and they had put the fear of Merlin in her to not ask him for an autograph or try to get a moment alone with him or bother him in the slightest. They certainly weren’t here now to tell her what not to do. Of course, she wasn’t sure what to do, either. It wasn’t like she had never met a quidditch player -- she had dated enough by this point to form her own team -- but it was Viktor Krum. Probably. Honey was still far enough away that she could be totally mistaken, freezing on the spot because of nobody.

There was one surefire way to find out: though she obviously wasn’t thinking clearly, Honey brought two fingers to her lips and whistled loudly, adding a loud, “Oi, Krum!” and immediately regretting her decision to not find a hiding spot first. She wasn’t sure why she thought this was a better method to determining who she was looking at, rather than just getting closer and taking an actual look, but it was too late now.

Sponsors, events, meetings, matches, practice. His schedule was little said chaotic. Between the season’s games, Viktor found himself with almost no free time whatsoever. When he didn’t have a game, he had practice. When he was free from practice, he had an event to attend. When there were no events, he had to meet with his sponsors, regardless of where those sponsors were.

One of his sponsors, a dragon leather manufacturer who produced quidditch gloves, had recently moved to London after investing in some Hebridean Black dragons in the Scottish Isles. They’ve had a photo-shoot in Paris at the beginning of January, and now they had to settle on which posters they would release, and the order of the promotion. While Viktor’s manager could’ve dealt with this issue on his own, both his coach and all the other members of staff had assured him that it was for the best if the former Drakonya Krov himself attended the meetings, which would last only two days. Held in London, Viktor figured that the change of air could do him some good, despite the fact that he wouldn’t be resting at all.

However, much to his delight, after their morning meeting over breakfast at the Leaky Cauldron, Viktor had managed to get some free time until the late afternoon, when they would have yet another meeting. For now, at least, he could walk around Diagon Alley and get some presents for his friends and family.

London felt warm. At least much warmer than Bulgaria. Viktor found himself taking off his jacket, despite being already dressed a bit too lightly compared to other wizards and witches around. However, February in London was like April in Bulgaria. Warm, and its humidity made it feel even warmer than it already was, if not even suffocating. He missed home. Sighing, the Bulgarian stopped in front of a shop’s window, looking at particular scarf. Silk, white, with some pale pink floral model. Seemed like something his mother would enjoy wearing, especially at one of his games.

But before Viktor could take a step back and head towards the shop’s entrance, the Bulgarian was distracted by a loud noise. A whistle, which felt especially distressing on the relatively quiet alley. It was followed by an equally loud exclamation, which called out his name. Must be a fan. Viktor thought, a bit amused by the method of approach. But perhaps they wanted to catch him before he’d start his shopping session. The turned around on his heel, his eyes falling on the figure of a young lady, around his own age.

Her hair was like fire. It wasn’t like Harry’s friend’s, or like Fleur’s husband’s, but deeper, redder, much more intense. It was beautiful. Her skin was pale, which enhanced the hair’s colour even more. He liked that. He liked red.

“Yes?” Viktor replied in English, his Bulgarian accent heavily stressing the remark. “May I be of service?”

Honey Bea wasn’t starstuck. She couldn’t be. She knew quidditch players, dated quidditch players... had just yelled at a quidditch player in an alleyway. He turned, and she had to correct her earlier assumption that she wasn’t starstruck. It really was Viktor Krum. She offered him a wave as he spoke, though she immediately regretted an action so awkward and dropped her hand as quickly as she could. He kept speaking, but she either couldn’t hear him or just wasn’t really processing words anymore. Probably the latter.

She took a few steps forward, not taking her eyes off of him save for a quick glance in a passing window to check her reflection -- it wasn’t horrible, but it certainly wasn’t her best. Why hadn’t she bothered to look nice everyday just in case she ever run into Viktor Krum? At least there wasn’t any obvious powdered sugar in her hair and she had managed to put on lipstick for her delivery.

“Hi, sorry for yelling, really,” she stopped before getting too close, well aware that she had already done one weird thing, not needing to do another one by invading his personal space, even though she really, really wanted to. He was shorter up close, though she realized that she didn’t have a lot of far-away experience to base that on, either; she had only seen him fly in that Cup years ago, and now her life felt incredibly empty because she hadn’t made a point to correct that. She hadn’t heard any rumors about a trade to a BIL team and she did her best not to get her hopes up.

She was never at a loss for words. “You’re a lot--” shorter “--taller than you look on a broom.” Honey nodded quickly, noting that he also wasn’t as unattractive as she had assumed him to be. Yet somehow that didn’t make him any easier to talk to. She almost started to apologize for her appearance, that she hadn’t put more care into her looks prior to this chance encounter, but she stopped herself because she could regret her decision. “Sorry,” she started again. “I’m a big fan.”

She was one of those fans – the completely starstruck ones, who were often times acting awkward when approaching him, being severely intimidated. The witch made no exception from that rule, but she also made no exclusion from Viktor’s habit of finding such individuals slightly endearing. Their clumsiness was something that always made him smile, and for the warm and pleasant feeling that they all managed to get within him, Viktor was not only grateful to them, but also did his best to please such fans. He could feel the appreciation they felt for him, for his work, for his way of life.

However, as starstruck as she was, he was also mesmerised by her hair. As she drew closer, Viktor’s gaze didn’t move at all from her hair, the man deeply enjoying not only the deep shade of red – his favourite colour – but also how it complemented her features. It was nice to know he also had such fans, people whom Viktor could genuinely say he found particularly beautiful.

He was surprised she kept a slight distance; generally, such fans would get as close to him as possible, and he didn’t really mind. She seemed however, to realise that perhaps her earlier gesture had been a bit embarrassing. His suspicion was then confirmed by her apology. Viktor let out a soft laugh, and nodded his head in disapproval. “No need for apologies.” He offered her a wide smile, a bit curious of how she would further react to his presence there.

The fact that she’d commented on his appearance was half-expected; many people who met him in person were a bit disappointed. Viktor was highly aware of that. However, it was their fault in the first place for expecting quidditch players to be perfect at everything. In the end, during their private time, all were free do act or do or wear whatever they wanted. She tried to hide her disappointment, he was sure of it; reason as of why, Viktor decided to tease her a bit. “Do I now?” He inquired on a playful tone, arching an eyebrow.

It was especially cute how she realised she was being clumsy. “Don’t apologise, really.” He commented again, offering her a reassuring smile. Especially because he’s had a business meeting before, Viktor was sure he had some of his pictures in his jacket’s pocket. “Let’s see.” The man commented, placing his right hand in the pocket of the jacked that was now resting on his left arm. “There it is.” Viktor took out a rolled parchment, which was, in fact, the latest poster of his and the last one in his possession for the day.

Many staff members had inquired autographs before the meeting, so he had come prepared. It was her luck that Viktor remembered he had one. Generally, all of his jackets were enchanted so the pockets would be never-ending; in the end, as a famous quidditch player, Viktor wanted to be sure he was always prepared for such situations. However, he hadn’t been prepared to encounter fans that day, as Viktor hadn’t even been aware he would have some time for himself. It was really a luck day for her.

“Now I need a quill…” He mumbled, taking out one from the other pocket. “It’s the latest poster, for the national team. Not available for sale yet.” Viktor commented as he winked in her direction. He then shifted his weight from one leg to another, and rolled down the parchment, which comprised of a picture of him in his Bulgarian uniform. “What’s your name?” He asked, raising his gaze from the parchment towards the young witch in front of him. 

Okay, so he wasn’t obviously looking for an escape, that was a good sign. Honey fumbled with her thoughts for a few seconds, wondering if his nonacceptance of her apology was sincere or if he was just being a nice celebrity -- she decided it it was the former. She returned his smile easily, reminding herself to breathe. In, out, just like a normal person.

“Do you?” She had already forgotten what she had just said. She was far too focused at looking at him up close; that, and remembering to breathe and keep out of his personal space, going against every instinct she had with men. But as soon as the words left her mouth, Honey remembered the ‘compliment’ she had offered him and she swallowed hard, suppressing a laugh. “Yeah, I mean. You’re standin’ up. It makes sense.” What didn’t make sense, however, was how she was managing to string together the dumbest combination of words she possibly could. Merlin.

But he smiled again, and again she returned it. He was humoring her at least. “Right, no more apologizing. Got it.” She took a quick breath. “Sorry. I mean—“ But thankfully he was already moving on, cutting her off from saying anything else she would regret. Again. He was rummaging in his pocket for something, and she determinedly kept her mind out of the gutter. It was broad daylight in Diagon Alley, after all. That, and they had just met -- though that was never really an issue for Honey.

It was parchment, and she did her best to hide her disappointment. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting: she had approached a celebrity on the street, of course she was getting an autograph. But still,  it was an autograph from Viktor Krum, and would look very nice next to her other quidditch player autographs (not that she could very well display the things that some of them had written, of course). “Ooh.” The latest poster for the national team, not yet available. She nodded, slipping more towards her professional side, slowly getting a handle on her breathing and her general social skills.

But then he winked. She would, of course, be supporting Bulgaria now.

Honey took a step forward as he unrolled the parchment, smirking at the pose. Some quidditch players really should be photographed on a broom, rather than standing, but she found it difficult to really mind it too much as she was standing there, right next to him. “Beatrix,” she blurted out immediately as she caught his eye, going red in the face as realized what she said. Shite. It was her name, technically, but it wasn’t one that any but a handful of people knew. “Bea,” she corrected herself, although incorrectly so. Double shite. “Merlin, Honey Bea,” she finally finished after taking a breath. There was no good way to recover from this, was there?

“Just Honey Bea,” she stated again with a nod, as if she had to clarify that she wasn’t named ‘Merlin Honey Bea’. “Yours?” It was the usual question after one introduced themselves. and she asked it without thinking. But her face went red again, blending in nicely with her hair, as the realization set in that she clearly already new his name. She looked up as she sighed, shaking her head slightly. Merlin. “Don’t answer that.”

As she drew closer, the witch smirked at the poster; he’s noticed it. Many were disappointed that he wasn’t riding his broom in this one, however it’s been a concession Viktor’s made with himself. When Bulgaria will qualify to the World Cup final, only then the poster with him flying will be released. It was a promise he’s made to himself; even if small to others, it mattered to Viktor. In the end, he didn’t want fans to purchase his better (and more expensive) poster unless he deserved them spending their galleons on him. Right now, this will have to do.

Her behaviour was absolutely endearing. Not only that she was completely in awe, but the witch lost any kind of ability to even think coherently. Viktor found that particularly cute; he’d always enjoyed such reactions. Despite not having the ego of the majority of quidditch players, the former Drakonya Krov definitely had this in common with everyone from this field of work: he, like everyone else, enjoyed being appreciated. And when the appreciation was expressed in such a charming manner, it made all the work worth all the sacrifices everyone’s committed. 

He was about to write down her name, Beatrix. But then she corrected herself, stating her name was Merlin Honey Bea. “Just Honey Bea.” He repeated the third time, looking her right in the eye, to make sure that this was actually her correct name. Just as Viktor was about to write, she’d asked what normally would be the most reasonable question, should she have not yelled out loud his name only moments before. The seeker burst out in laughter, nodding his head in slight disapproval, as he started writing on the poster. Honey Bea, Love your hair. followed by his signature, double in size compared to the actual comment.

“Better not roll it up yet, let the ink dry.” Viktor stated, passing on the poster to her, while placing his quill back into his pocket. “Anything else?” He asked, wondering if Honey Bea also wanted to take a picture, should she have a camera in her possession.

They made eye contact and Honey Bea shifted in her shoes. “Honey Bea,” she repeated simply, confirming once more that she knew her own name. She could have stopped there, should have stopped there, but instead she had to do her best attempt to disapparate with no effort when her question escaped her mouth. He at least complied with her wish to not answer; she closed her eyes in a prolonged blink as she grimaced, willing herself to not remember the sound of his laughter after this moment had passed.

She forced herself to look again as she heard the scratch of his quill, hoping he couldn’t see as deep a flush in her cheeks as she felt. “Right, of course.” She took the poster without looking at it, unable to take her gaze off of him now that she had fixed it on him. “Er--” Anything else? Was it not obvious that she had given this whole encounter as little thought as possible, if not less? “No,” she started slowly, shrugging. “I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough.” She nodded, finally glancing down at the poster.

A smirk worked its way onto her lips, and for the first time in the past several minutes, she felt almost in her element. Compliments always seemed to do that, even if it was more than likely a pity one. At least he had picked one of her favorite features to love. But he had taken her ‘no’ quite seriously and was already turning to get back to his day -- she shifted the poster to one hand and reached for Viktor Krum’s arm with the other. “Actually,” she started, not dropping her hand once she had his attention.

“Do you think I could get another one? For my brother?” Her questions came out quickly before she could regret herself again. “His name is Duke.” Again she fumbled with names, though this time it was intentional. Her brother preferred the name Rudi (for obvious reasons) and did his best to shed the ‘Duke’ label; he’d have to accept it though for such a great gift.

“Don’t worry, it’s normal.” He commented with a smile, wanting to put her at ease. In the end, she wasn’t the exception from the rule, but the rule itself. Fans tended to be especially starstruck when around a celebrity, particularly when they would meet one out of the blue. Which was the situation today. She needn’t be embarrassed by the normality of the situation. “Well then – “ Viktor started on the same polite tone as before. “ – I’ll get going.”

Honey Bea nodded as she was looking at the poster, so the quidditch player naturally took it as an approval. He placed his jacket on his shoulders, and turned around, deciding to go back to his already planned activity – shopping. That scarf he’d seen only moments before was too great to miss on, and Viktor really wanted to get it for his mother. It was exactly Zora’s style, which was more rare to find as it was rather classical than modern, or what most witches were wearing these days.

Just as he was about to enter the shop though, someone reached for his arm. Their grip surprised him, and Viktor’s arm instinctively tensed. He turned around at the exact moment she spoke, and Viktor was startled to see that Honey Bea had changed her mind. He had asked before, so her approaching him again for something was a bit of a wonder. “Yes?” The seeker asked, pondering on what the witch could want so passionately that she’d even approached him so boldly. A picture? A hug?

“Oh...” Another autographed poster. “Well, that was the last one I had with me.” It was indeed disappointing to tell a fan that, but it was the truth. He guessed there were more left at the Leaky Cauldron, but they were also for his sponsors and not for his personal usage. However, there was a solution, for, in the end, Viktor didn’t want to disappoint such a beautiful fan of his. “If you leave your address at the Leaky Cauldron – “ No, his manager wasn’t there, but out with business. Right now, he was sending her after a wild goose chase.

“No, actually. My manager’s in a meeting.” He repeated, out loud this time, so Honey Bea would understand why he’s contradicted himself. “But you can write me down your address, and I will send you one once I’m home?” Well, he’s sure not to forget a gorgeous female fan he’s met on Diagon Alley, so the autographed poster would absolutely be sent. “Or more if you want for your friends as well, just give me a list.”

Now that she was actually touching him, Honey was almost back to normal. She put a proper pout on her lips as he told her that she was all out of posters -- though she was indeed smug that he had given her his last -- but she reassured him that she didn’t mind. “Oh?” She hadn’t been planning to get down to the Leaky Cauldron that day, but if it meant that she would be able to play this wonderful and incredibly thought out prank on her brother, she’d make the exception.

But just as she had resigned herself from putting in extra effort to get this second poster, he had changed his mind. “Oh.” Honey replaced her frown with another smirk. He wanted her address. He wanted her address to send an autographed poster for her brother, but… Viktor Krum wanted her address.

No big deal.

“No, I--” don’t like anyone else enough to give them one “--Having just the one for my brother will make it more special.” She smiled quickly, before rummaging through her bag to find something to write on. She found something even better, though, and handed Viktor Krum and advertisement for Honeydukes, ripped from the Daily Prophet. “Mail to Honeydukes will get to me,” she offered before correcting herself. “I live there. Above it. I own it.” Honey nodded again, offering him one last smile as she gave his arm another squeeze.

She needed to retreat before she did anything else she’d regret. “Sorry again,” she said one more time, giving him a small wave before ducking back down the Alley.

Judging from her reaction, she didn’t particularly mind that he didn’t have any more posters with him. It was good; some fans wouldn’t have reacted as well as she did. However, Viktor arched his eyebrow with curiosity as Honey pulled out an official advertisement of Honeydukes, a shop he often visited when he’d been at Hogwarts himself. “Oh.” He remarked, eyes widening with surprise.

“Honey and Duke.” Viktor nodded, a bit amused. “Should’ve figured it myself.” The quidditch player commented, a bit embarrassed that he hadn’t exactly put two and two together, despite it being so obvious. “Yes, I remember it.” He nodded in approval, figuring that when he’d been there, it was probably her parents who were handling the shop. Viktor would have definitely remembered that gorgeous deep red hair if he’d encountered it before. On the other hand, his mind was focused on someone else before. Perhaps he’s even met Honey in Hogsmeade and didn’t remember her. But perhaps not – she didn’t have an autograph, nor did her brother.

“A great shop.” He’d previously gotten several sweets from there, especially before he left back for Bulgaria for the summer. They’ve always been good, and he was quite impressed to meet the new – he supposed – owner. It seemed that she wasn’t just a shy fan, but a successful businesswoman. He was captivated. Mesmerised and intrigued. He was curious.

“I’ll make sure your brother’s poster arrives safely.” He nodded again, mirroring her own smile, and letting out a soft laugh as she gave his arm another squeeze. “Nothing to worry about.” Viktor commented, yet again reassuring her that there was nothing out of the ordinary – their meeting. “It was great meeting you.” He added, giving her a small wave as well, before placing the address into his trousers’ pocket and entering the shop, to continue with his plans.

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