A/N It's been ages since I last wrote so I figured I should write one! You may not like my plot line as you read on later but I hope you enjoy it anyway! This is somewhat of a completely different style of writing from my other stories I think. I accept both reviews and flames.

It had been four years. Four years since she last heard Viktor's name, seen the words that he wrote in his once so frequent letters, seen a photo of him in the Daily Prophet, or even seen his name. Four years could do anything to a person. That much Hermione had figured. It was so very strange. They had remained writing letters to each other during her fifth year, and she remembered how he had gone on about pursuing a career in the auror department once his Quidditch days were over. In fact, he had told her that he would have become an auror straight out of school if it weren't for Vladmir Bozhinov, the Bulgarian Quidditch Coach, spotting him catching a necklace somebody had dropped from a bridge on his broom when he was four- not that he regretted his Quidditch career- he wouldn't have met Hermione otherwise. A total wonderboy was what everybody had called him. He had also talked about coming to The UK to visit, to be given a tour of the isles by her. But starting from the winter of her fifth year, the letters began to become less frequent and by the summer of her sixth year, they had vanished all together. Instinctively, Hermione had assumed that there must have been some sort of mistake. The owl could have dropped the letter for instance or given it to someone else who so very unkindly decided to do nothing about it. She had supposed that maybe something had happened to the owl Viktor had sent, or maybe there was going to be a late response, or even an apology of some sort for not writing sooner. But none came until the time when summer transgressed from spring during her sixth year. It had been a terse note written hastily over a torn piece of parchment. The piece of parchment didn't even have an envelope to cover it.

Hermione. Can't write anymore. You'll understand one day.

VK

That was all he had bluntly written. There was no greeting in the beginning. No "I'm so sorry. No 'I miss you'. And no 'I love you' at all.

She would remember that very letter for the rest of her life, she thought. Some time in the future, or even tomorrow. The terseness was a cover for hurt, Hermione could tell that much. Even though Viktor was a boy- no- not a boy but a man of few words, he would never write like that. So Hermione assumed once again that something was wrong- but Hermione couldn't bring herself to do anything about the letter. She didn't want to go over to him or something because it would hurt her even more. So she had let herself hurt... and hurt... and hurt... and rot.

She went back to school different. She was sure that Harry and Ron would notice. They'd all known each other long enough to spot anything different or wrong. But they didn't. Harry was too into thinking about Professor Dumbledore, the relationship between Ginny and himself, Draco Malfoy and Volemort... and Quidditch and Cormac McLaggen and Professor Slughorn and almost everything else she could think of. And Ron... well... was being Ron. He was oblivious to her obvious changes. He had Lavender Brown of course.

So she got on with her life and tried to cope with things. If they weren't going to even try to notice, what was the point of making them do so? She had attempt to write Viktor letters, scrapped them, then wrote again. By the time she'd finish one letter, she would leave it under her bed in a box and start a new one the next day. She never sent any of them. And soon, the letters became the diary of her life as the pile go bigger and bigger under her bed.

And then came seventh year. Hurt accumulated on top of even more hurt as the war began. She had almost completely forgotten about Viktor until she was alone one night, imagining a world with him without Voldemort, no Ron, no pain... She would imagine going up to him, telling him how much he had hurt her. She would hurt him just the way he had hurt her, and then forgive him for it and kiss him with all the energy she could muster. But the world being its usual self would bring morning in a cruel manner, and as the days went on like this, Ron thought that he had a chance of getting with her. She began to think of him as somewhat of a substitute because she didn't think that she was able to hold on to her past that didn't seem to exist anymore. It made her wonder if Viktor even wanted her anymore. Did he?

Then the Great Battle came and Harry had thankfully won. She couldn't remember being more happy in her life than that day, because her best friends, Harry and Ron had lived, the Order didn't fall to pieces, and Voldemort was gone forever... and better yet, she had a chance with Viktor. But little did she actually know, Voldemort wasn't the reason behind Viktor's sudden stoppage of letters.

Then some time later, because of all of her closest and best friends Harry... Ron... and Ginny, she sent a letter to Viktor Krum the year she had turned twenty.

Dear Viktor,

I don't know where to start... I just really need to speak to you... face to face.
So much has happened over the years and with the war and everything...
We need to catch up. What do you say?

Lots of love,
Hermione

She felt ridiculous for sending the letter because of the vast amount of time that had passed since she had last written to him, but nothing stopped her from sending it. She felt stupid, but it didn't stop her from sending it either. She thought she knew what the reply was going to be. No. I can't. VK. But her hopes remained high. She honestly believed that there was still a connection between them.

The next few days were filled with absolute hell. She lay moodily in her room, a small one that she rented from Neville and Hannah Longbottom at the Leaky Cauldron where Harry and Ron would visit a couple of times a week. She would sit by her window and look up at the ill coloured sky, waiting patiently for her small owl, Aurora, that had once belongs to her late parents who had passed away during the war. That was a memory that she didn't like to keep with her but she had managed to get over it because death wasn't something she could fight against. They had been killed by a band of Death Eaters just before Voldemort himself died.

Then one day, when she had almost fallen asleep from the lack of, Aurora shot into her room, carrying the smell of fresh air through her wings. Although she would later feel guilty for her action, she hardly gave her poor owl a glance as she noticed a reply and quickly untied a coffee coloured parchment that was attached to Aurora's leg. She found her name written with Viktor's handwriting on the centre of the page and felt her heart start to pick up pace. Her hands started to become more clumsy as she awkwardly tore the envelop into random pieces as she searched for what was obviously the letter that she had been waiting for. And to her surprise, the contents of the letter had nothing that she would have thought he would have written, and instead, carried exactly what she had been hoping for.

Dear Hermione,

I know that I have hurt you a lot, and for all of the pain you feel, I feel it over a millionfold. We need to meet each other in person so that we can talk things through. Can we meet up where Florean Fortesque's Ice Cream Palour used to be on the 3rd of July at six pm? I do not know what is there anymore.

Viktor

The third... and that was... today! All of sudden, Hermione couldn't breathe anymore as she realised that she hadn't actually prepared herself for any of this. And Merlin! He had written his name! She ran out of her room with her purse in hand and made her way over to Madam Malkin's to find something suitable to wear. For once in her entire life, Hermione couldn't think or know anything. Did Viktor prefer her with robes on or muggle clothes? She couldn't remember and hated herself for it at that moment. She looked through all of the clothes as fast as she could as she realised that there was only three more hours left until she was going to meet up with Viktor. She bought a red robe with gold lining around the waist and didn't bother to look at the traumatising price, hardly realising that Ron was in fact in the same store, looking at her with a surprised and worried look on his face. But she hardly noticed or put a thought to anything as all that was going through her mind was Viktor, Viktor, Viktor, Viktor, VIKTOR, VIKTOR! The constant thinking of him became a vision in her head that soon became her life source to breathe in. She was going to see Viktor again.