An early birthday present to myself, featuring two of my favourite characters. I hope you enjoy it, even though the pairing is very unlikely. It begins sensibly but soon cascades into fluff… I attempted Viktor's accent, but I just made him sound silly, so in the end I missed it out completely. I apologise for any spelling/grammar mistakes, and for any Harry Potter related inaccuracies, as well as a very OOC Viktor Krum. Warnings: cross-gen pairing, occasional mild swear word, slash and kissing/light petting.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Viktor Krum took another sip of his warm butterbeer, wondering (for what, if his calculations were correct, was the twenty-third time) why he'd even bothered to come in the first place. It had been coincidence, more than anything. He happened to be in England when Fleur Weasley nee. Delacour got in contact with him, and his manager happened to cancel the meeting they'd had scheduled for the day of the party she invited him to.

Although Viktor, at thirty-eight, was too old to play professional Quidditch any more (the days when he'd been renowned as the world's greatest Seeker were long gone) he had a comfortable job coaching the Bulgarian national team. His attendance today was all down to chance, really. A tournament in England, an old friend, and a dark-haired foreigner sitting alone on a summer's afternoon.

When Viktor had arrived at the party, uncomfortable in his second-best suit, he'd recognised a few familiar faces. Harry Potter, the Weasley brood, Fleur's younger sister Gabrielle. The majority of the guests, however, were strangers to him.

The party was a true Weasley event, loud and colourful and more than a little overwhelming, and before long Viktor (never the most sociable of people) had retreated to the very end of the garden, feeling out of place and alien.

There he had discovered a quiet and blissfully calm spot, separated from the festivities by a tall line of pine trees, which offered only a small gap for him to observe the rest of the partygoers through. He could just about see Harry Potter, balancing a small red-headed child on his lap (he had told Viktor her name when they chatted briefly earlier, but for the life of him he couldn't remember it) underneath a gaudy banner that flashed with the words, "Happy Anniversary, Bill and Fleur!"

The sun was large and low in the sky. Viktor let his eyes drift closed, enjoying the warmth of the rays caressing his face. Surely no-one would notice if he had a nap for a few minutes? It wasn't like people were paying attention to him, anyway…

"Excuse me?" a quiet male voice said suddenly, and Krum sat up, startled. The Bulgarian opened his eyes to see a tall blonde boy who looked vaguely familiar motioning towards the chair on the other side of the table, "Do you mind if I sit here?"

Viktor cleared his throat, embarrassed, and muttered, "No. Go ahead." His English had improved since his teenage days, but his accent was still strong. The boy (or was he a young man? He looked to be around sixteen or seventeen) smiled, revealing even white teeth, and sat down.

After a few seconds he cleared his throat and asked, "You're Viktor Krum, aren't you?" Krum nodded uncomfortable. "I'm Louis Weasley – Fleur's son," the boy told him, extending a pale hand for him to shake.

Krum did so, absent-mindedly noting that his skin was very soft, whilst mentally berating himself for not realising who he was sooner. Now he knew, the resemblance between Louis and his mother was obvious; they had the same light blonde hair, same high cheekbones, same wide blue eyes… Viktor flushed and quickly looked away.

"So, um, you competed in the Triwizard tournament, right?" Louis said. Krum nodded, reluctant to say more about the competition that had ended so tragically. Instead he sat back, letting memories flood into his mind.

He'd visited the Delacour-Weasleys a couple of years ago, but (as he now remembered) the oldest child, the boy, had been away with friends. Viktor had met his sisters, the haughty blonde and the redhead with the wicked smile, but he'd never given their brother a second thought.

"We haven't met before, have we?" Viktor asked, adding, 'I would remember meeting you,' inside his head.

Louis replied, "No. Mom's told me a lot about you, though."

Viktor's involuntary blush deepened. 'What have you been saying, Fleur?' some part of his mind growled. The corners of Louis' mouth twitched, as if he was biting back a smile. The knowledge that the boy was amused by his obvious embarrassment only made Viktor's cheeks redder.

"Only good stuff, don't worry," the boy assured him, his dark blue eyes sparkling.

At that moment a distinctive and (Krum's stomach fell into the ground beneath his feet) familiar voice interrupted them from behind the trees. "Hugo had read the entirety of Hogwarts: A History already!" the female voice announced. Viktor took a hefty swig of his butterbeer. He glanced at his new companion, who was watching him with a strange expression on his face. Was it… pity?

"My mom – she told me that you, er, went out with her for a while. Aunt Hermione, I mean," Louis said softly. That gentle tone – it sent a shiver down Viktor's spine that he hadn't felt for a long time.

"Yes," he replied shortly, then laughed; it was a dry, humourless sound. Perhaps it was the butterbeer, or the heady heat of the afternoon sun, or the knowledge that he would most likely never see this boy again (a curiously depressing thought) that made Viktor continue. "I thought I was in love with her," he said flatly, and Louis looked away, flushing.

Easily embarrassed, huh? Viktor noted, storing the knowledge away in some compartment of his brain. "Ridiculous, really. She was fourteen, I couldn't pronounce her name, and… she was female." Indigo eyes widened. "Still," Krum sighed, running a hand over his hair, "I was very young."

He risked a glance at the half-French boy. Louis was staring at him, mouth slightly open in a way Viktor failed to find anything other than adorable. "So you're- I mean- are you gay?" Louis stuttered, cheeks darkening to a dull pinkish colour.

"Yes," Viktor replied, somewhat sharply, "Do you have a problem with that?"

The boy shook his head quickly. "No! No, not at all. I'm – I think I – I don't know why I'm telling you this, but I think I might be. You know. Gay."

Viktor raised an eyebrow. Young, attractive, and questioning his sexuality? A dark part of the ex-Quidditch player's mind purred, Just my type.

No, a more rational side said firmly, he's not even an adult. Plus, he's Fleur's son! She would kill you.

Oblivious to Krum's raging mental debate, Louis was gazing at the floor, frowning slightly. Viktor sighed. He'd wanted to go to a party, not help some confused teenager figure out which team he batted for (if you'll excuse the ridiculously overused metaphor). Still…

"What do you mean," Krum said slowly, his voice carefully neutral, "You 'think'?"

The boy looked up sharply, evidently surprised by the near-stranger's question. "Well," he said after a long pause, "There was this girl. This girl, in my year. Sandra. Some people call her Sandy- but that's not important. She asked me out." Louis' shoulders visibly stiffened, "I said yes," he continued, "More out of - curiosity, than anything else. We went to Hogsmeade, and held hands, and she- she kissed me."

He trailed off, obviously thinking something through. Viktor tried to keep his expression as impassive as possible as he swallowed another mouthful of butterbeer.

"But when she kissed me," Louis began again, just when the Bulgarian had decided he must have finished, "Well – when it finished, she'd be all red-faced and bright-eyed and breathing heavily. And all I could think was, 'That was wet'." He shuffled a little in his chair, "It didn't last long."

Krum, feeling the beginnings of a headache emerging, thought for a few minutes before he replied, "Well. You might be gay. Or you might just not have been interested in this girl."

Louis' frown deepened. "There's more," he continued, his voice little more than a whisper now, "Sometimes, when I see my dorm-mates after they've showered, I get… well, you know…"

Viktor tried his very best not to imagine the boy with an erection, repeating the words, Too young. Fleur's son. Too young. Fleur's son… like some sort of mental mantra. Eventually he realised that Louis was waiting for some form of reply.

Viktor squinted up at the blue, blue sky, swallowed and told the teenager, "You're still very young. A lot of people question their sexuality at your age." The right response, probably, but not the one Krum wanted to give. That one went more along the lines of, 'Why don't you kiss me and find out for sure?'

Louis looked up, eyes flashing with some emotion Krum couldn't find the words for, and he hissed, "I'm sixteen. A lot of people my age know whether they're gay or straight, or whatever."

Krum sighed again, wondering how the hell he'd ended up as some sort of guidance counsellor, and told the boy gently, "I didn't. It's not- it's not a problem if you don't."

Louis made a noise at the back of his throat, a sort of frustrated growl, and snapped, "It is a problem."

They stared at each other in silence for a moment, then Louis pulled back the hands he'd angrily slapped down onto the table between them. "Sorry," he muttered, blushing again, "It's just- I've had… offers. From boys. But- I have Veela blood. And that's- I mean, it's designed to be attractive to males."

His cheeks were a dark pink, the colour of beetroot, and Viktor half-wondered why he was telling all this to someone he'd only met thirty minutes ago. But at the same time, part of him understood exactly was Louis was going through. He wanted to tell someone who was impartial, someone who wasn't a member of his family. The fact that it was Viktor was just- well, coincidence again.

"You want someone to like you for your personality, not for the way you look," Victor guessed aloud. The boy nodded, expression hovering between embarrassment and relief.

"That's- that's exactly what I want," he murmured. Viktor looked at him again, and for a moment he saw his younger self reflected back in Louis' eyes. The painful, passionate uncertainty of youth.

"But then I think," the teenager continued, so softly Viktor wasn't sure if he was supposed to hear at all, "Is it better to be liked for the way you look than to not be liked at all? I mean"- he sighed, "My grades are average, I'm clumsy and- and awkward, I'm crap at Quidditch…"

Krum blinked at him. The boy was staring down at his hands.

"You don't have the right build," Krum told him gently, honestly. Louis was too tall to be a seeker, but too thin to be much good at any of the other positions. "You could be a Keeper," the Bulgarian mused, "But look."

He reached over the table and calmly took one of the boy's hands in his own much larger ones. "Your wrists are too delicate," Krum murmured, trying to ignore the way his heart was pounding so fiercely inside his chest, "One hard-hit Quaffle and-" He gently tipped the pale hand backwards- "They would snap."

He released the boy's hand. It fell gently to the table. Louis stared at it as if it weren't part of his body at all.

"You have nothing to be worried about," Krum told him, stumbling over his words in a way reminiscent of his younger days, "I do not know you hardly at all, but even I can see that you are clever. And open. And honest. And- good. You will find someone who will love you because of these things, not because you are beautiful."

The ex-Quidditch players stopped abruptly. Oh Merlin, he groaned to himself, I've gone too far. I've let my thoughts tumble out of my mouth… I'm screwed.

He glanced at Louis, who to his surprise was smiling. It was a small, personal sort of smile. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me," he whispered.

Krum felt heat flood into his cheeks once more. "I didn't – I didn't mean it to be," he muttered. The statement made more sense inside his head.

"Could-" Louis began, then bit his lip.

"What is it?" Viktor asked gruffly.

"Could I- do an experiment?" Louis asked. The Bulgarian frowned at him, trying to work out if the boy was actually suggesting what he thought he was, or if his own hormones had twisted his words out of context. Well, only one way to find out…

"Yes," Viktor said simply.

The boy stood up (hesitantly) and stepped across so that he was standing directly in front of the older man. Viktor, frowning at their uneven heights, pushed himself to his feet. Louis was a few inches shorter than him, but not enough to make a significant difference.

Viktor could feel his hot breath even before they kissed. When they did, when soft, nervous lips pressed against his own, his instincts took over immediately. One arm wrapped itself around Louis' waist, the other tangling itself in his hair, and he kissed the boy back with a passion he didn't know he possessed.

Five minutes later (or was it five hours?) Krum somewhat reluctantly withdrew his tongue from Louis' mouth (the younger man tasted of strawberries and of summer) and gently pushed him away. The Bulgarian smiled to himself as he gazed down at the teenager.

Red-faced? Yep. Bright eyed? Definitely. Breathing heavily? Certainly.

"Come to a conclusion yet?" the man asked teasingly.

The boy grinned up at him, "I think further experimentation is required."

Viktor pulled Louis into another kiss.

This was by far the best set of coincidences he had ever come across.

Thankyou for reading, and please, please review.