A/N: I feel a little guilty for reposting old stuff from LJ here, but I know some people here may not be over there. It also helps me feel connected with fandom when I'm not writing anything new! I enjoy reviewing my favorites from my old writing and attempting to share it with a wider audience. So, if you're read it before, I hope you enjoyed it then and enjoy it again! Also, this is based on a card game I found at Dollar Tree once upon a time—just so you know.

Hermione was the main reason he had decided to move back to England when he quit Quidditch, but somehow, when she was around, Viktor could barely even muster up the courage to speak to her. He loved watching her, loved feeling her presence in the room, and he'd never had any trouble writing letters to her...but in person his shyness overcame him. Even so, he was glad he'd made the decision to join the Order of the Phoenix, and he liked living in Grimmauld Place with so many of the other members. He enjoyed the feeling of accomplishment when he completed a mission for the order. But when Hermione was around, he turned back into the shy boy he had always been.

When Mrs. Black's screeching nails-on-a-blackboard voice politely announced Hermione's return to the house, Viktor's mind and senses went on high alert and his tongue froze. He heard her rushing to the kitchen, the plunk of bags on the wooden table, Molly's thanks. Because of Hermione's familiarity with Muggle money and stores, and the Order's need to avoid Diagon Alley, she had been doing most of their shopping. Then her footsteps came lightly down the hall, and he glued his eyes to the doorway.

She burst through with sparkling eyes and a big smile for everyone in the den, warming Viktor's blood like sunshine. Her hair was dotted with fat white snowflakes, and her cheeks glowed like apples from the cold. His heart lodged in his throat: she was beautiful, like a winter angel.

She hurried over and dropped her paper sack on the card table before doling out her purchases. "Ron," she said, tossing a couple of chocolate bars his direction, "I know they don't come with cards, but at least you'll have the chocolate. Fred, George, I wasn't sure what 'something to entertain ourselves' was supposed to mean, so I got you a chemistry set. It has explosive potential; be careful." She stifled a giggle at their matching delighted grins. "Tonks, your shampoo and some jellybeans. Neville, chewing gum and duct tape. Harry, I wasn't sure what to get for Hedwig to eat. I stopped at the pet store and asked; the clerk looked at me like I was insane but gave me this for her. He said live mice might be better, but you'll have to go buy them yourself." She shuddered, and Viktor hid his smile. "I couldn't bear it." She poked back into her bag, handed Remus a bundle without commenting on it, and poked around a bit more. "Luna, this is a rag magazine, you might like it. Oh, and Ginny, I thought this magazine was as close to teenWITCH as I was going to find."

"Hey, it says there's an article about love potions!" Ginny exclaimed. "And it comes with a card game!"

"It probably just means perfume or something, not real potions," Hermione noted.

Ginny shrugged. "At least it's something to read. Anyone want to play cards?"

Fred and George retreated upstairs-presumably to blow something up-and Remus and Neville left the room, too. Ginny, Tonks, Hermione, Luna, Ron, and Harry gathered around the card table, with a few spells to make it bigger and bring up extra chairs. Viktor stayed where he was, by the crackling fire, pretending to watch the dancing flames but really watching the table full of people out the corner of his eye. Hermione glanced his way, but he didn't see her. He thought he would have liked to play with them...but something kept him from it. Instead he listened.

Ginny scanned the instructions. "This is a Truth or Dare card game. You draw a card and ask the person next to you if they want a truth question or a dare, then you read their choice. If they do it, they get however many points it says. Harry, Accio us some paper and pencils, will you? Tonks, want to keep score? I'm terrible at math."

"Sure," Tonks answered. "Are you going first, since it's your game?"

Ginny drew a card off of the stack and looked at Harry, who was beside her. "Truth or Dare?"

"Truth."

"'You have one night left to live. Who would you spend it with, and why?'"

Harry considered. "You'll probably deck me for this, Gin, but it's not you." He grinned at her pretend pout. "Dumbledore…because there are so many things I wish I could have known about him, not to mention the things I could have learned from him." He swallowed hard. "I still can't believe he's gone."

Viktor was surprised at the seriousness of Harry's answer. He was somewhat glad now that he hadn't joined the game; it was hard to be that straightforward, especially with people that he wasn't all that close to.

Harry drew the next card; Ron chose truth, as well. "Where and—"Harry laughed—"when was your first kiss?"

Ginny and Hermione giggled, too; Ron flushed. "Sixth year…with Lavender Brown, in the Gryffindor common room."

"We could be kind, Ron, and let you count Auntie Muriel," Ginny snickered. Ron rolled his eyes at her, but the teasing really didn't seem to get to him. Viktor supposed he had grown up quite a bit in recent years, since Hermione's friend at Hogwarts four years ago had not been so easygoing.

As Ron drew a card and asked Luna her question, Viktor lost track of the game, because Remus settled into the chair next to him with his winter cloak. He opened the package Hermione had given him, withdrew a patch, a needle, and some thread and absentmindedly began to stitch. Viktor watched his hands; his stitches were so uneven that he looked up at his face. Remus was watching the table of people, now laughing at Luna flapping her hands by her face, with a look of raw openness on his face, a gaze of undisguised love and need. Viktor followed that earnest stare to where Tonks was whispering in Hermione's ear, then both young women burst into laughter.

It was the same look, Viktor realized, that he probably wore when he watched Hermione. He hastily looked back down at Remus' awkward stitches.

"Don't mind me," Remus murmured quietly. "I just needed something to do while I watched the game."

"I understand," Viktor answered, somewhat stiffly.

Remus smiled at him wistfully. "Do you? You could join the game, you know. You're young enough to fit right in with them. I'm old enough to be her father—their father, I mean." Quietly, to himself (although Viktor still heard him) he whispered, "I wonder if she even looks at me as a man?"

Viktor followed Remus' gaze back to the table, where Hermione was reading Tonks a question now. Remus Lupin was interested in Hermione? Surely she didn't care about him in return…that's what he was saying, wasn't it?

He realized suddenly that he hadn't heard Hermione answer her question in the game when Neville came back in the room and pulled up a chair beside Tonks. "Can I still join in?" he asked.

"Sure!" Ginny said. "That makes us uneven now, though." She scanned the room and her eyes landed on Viktor, then lit up. "Viktor! You have to come and play, so we have an even number of players!"

"Vhy do you need effen number?" he asked, surprised to be asked and a bit afraid of playing. Physical games, like Quidditch, he could win, but an emotional game…letting down the steel walls around his heart scared the hell out of him.

"We don't, really," Hermione answered for Ginny, "but we'd like you to play with us." Did her cheeks tinge pink when she asked, or was the blush leftover from being outside? He didn't know, but it was Hermione's invitation that made him join the game, and the pink on her cheeks that made a tiny crack in his steel walls.

He turned his chair around backwards and straddled the back, putting the physical barrier between him and the other players—not that it mattered in the least, but it made him feel a little better. (From Hermione's perspective—although this is Viktor's story—it displayed his muscular forearms to great advantage.)

"Neville," Tonks said, "Truth or Dare?"

"Um…dare."

"'Look at yourself in a mirror and explain why you are a good person,'" she read.

"Here," Ginny said, reaching into the purse by her feet, "I have one."

Viktor felt sorry for the poor guy as he gazed befuzzled into the mirror. He'd hate to have that question.

"Um…I…Well, I'm good at Herbology."

"Keep going, Neville," Hermione told him kindly. "There's more."

"Well, I'm doing what my parents would want me to do, fighting You-Know-Who. Gran is proud of me. And…and…" he shot a quick glance across the table at Luna, who smiled back at him. "And I care about people. That's enough." He passed Ginny's mirror back to her and drew a card. "Viktor, Truth or Dare?"

Damn, what was the better choice? Neville had said dare and gotten the mirror question. "Truth," he answered softly.

"What person has been the biggest influence on your life and why?"

Viktor gazed at the table and considered. Should he be completely honest or make a light answer? Somehow, he couldn't think of anything funny to say, and something inside of him wanted these people to understand him a little better. To care about him.

"Bashta. My father." He paused, thinking again, long enough that a soft voice asked him why. He looked up and met Hermione's caramel gaze. He had told her many things in his letters, but never the story about his father. "My parents vere Death Eaters, adamant about purebloods marrying purebloods. My father, he insists I go to Durmstrang. Vhen they say I haff talent, he insists I play Quidditch. He vas angry about Trivizard Tournament, because he hates Dumbledore much. He say I cannot go, but I vas of age, and I do anyvay. Vhen they come for last challenge, I tell them I haff met girl I care about, I tell them, Herm-own-ninny, that you haff Muggle parents. My mother, she vas not happy, but she accept. My father not. Vhen I go home, is last time I see them. He kick me out, and I decide that I should spend my life fighting against that kind of people. Vhat kind of people are Death Eaters, to hate effen their own children, only child, because of choice he makes? That is vhy Bashta influence my life more than anyvone else."

Viktor looked around at everyone; he could have heard a kneazle shed. He reached for a card, turned to Ginny and said, "Truth? Or Dare?"

"Dare."

Ignoring the awkward silence around him, Viktor read the card. "Say aloud twenty people or things that you loff. You must start each sentence vith the vords 'I loff.'"

She smiled at him. "I love pygmy puffs. I love cheese. I love Harry."

"You love cheese more than me?" Harry asked in indignation.

"Well," Ginny answered, "I've had a much longer relationship with cheese. We met when I was very young. I love lacey underwear." Ron pretended to vomit; the group laughed, and Viktor's uncomfortable moment was over. He relaxed as Ginny continued listing things she loved, which included learning jinxes, sugar quills, and tossing chocolate frogs at the Fat Lady so she could stare longingly at them as they lay on the floor. By the time she finished, the group was in an uproar.

Molly had to raise her voice before they could hear her. "Kids!" she cried (and Ron groaned at the imagined insult to their maturity). "Finally! Dinner's ready."

Viktor left the den with the others, but he glanced back and saw Remus watching them go.

Later that night, as Viktor was on his way to his room for bed, he saw something that felt like a Bludger to his stomach: Hermione was leaving Remus' room. When she saw Viktor coming down the hallway, however, she smiled at him. "Thanks for playing with us today, Viktor."

"I enjoyed it," he answered stiffly. Her smile seemed to fade a little around the edges.

"I feel like we haven't really had a chance to talk since you came," she asked. He could tell she was nervous, too. "I know it's late, but would you like to go down to the library with me?"

Viktor wasn't sure how it happened, but he did wind up in the library with her, on opposite ends of a plushy, well-worn velvet sofa. They chatted about trivial things for awhile: Ginny's alleged love of Bertie Bott's dirt-flavored beans, which Viktor believed she'd only said to make them laugh but Hermione swore was true; the weather—they both loved the snow, and what Molly would fix for breakfast the next morning (Viktor thought ham and eggs, Hermione said oatmeal and toast). Finally, against his better judgment, Viktor asked softly, "Truth or dare?"

"What?" she answered.

"Truth or dare. I vish to ask a question."

"You can ask me anything, Viktor. Game or not. I thought you knew that."

His eyes met her confused gaze. Did he know that? No, he hadn't, not really. On parchment, yes, he could have asked her anything, but in person it was something entirely different. Using the game as a pretense made it easier. "No, I ask truth or dare. Then you haff turn. Ve play this game, yes?"

She smiled at him. "Ok, fine, if you want to play, I'll go along with you. Truth."

He took a deep breath and hoped he liked the answer. He wondered if there was an answer he would like. "Vhy you vere in Remus' room this late at night?"

"I took him his potion," she answered. At Viktor's baffled look, she gasped. "Oh, no, Viktor! You didn't think…?" Her jaw dropped open. "No! With Snape out of the Order, I've been making the Wolfsbane Potion for him. It's best fresh, so as soon as I finish I take it to him, whenever that happens to be. And he's in love with Tonks, anyway."

"Vith Tonks?" Viktor hadn't thought about that; he supposed he was too hung up on Hermione to be. But everything Remus had said could have been about Tonks, too.

"Yes, with Tonks. My turn. Truth or dare, Viktor?"

"Truth," he answered, his voice low.

Her eyes trapped his; he was drawn into them, a fly drowning in honey, a snowflake swept into a snowstorm, lost for but a moment, but at the same time, lost for eternity.

"Why," she whispered, "have you been hiding from me?"

He didn't answer, just sat there wondering what to say, finding himself swimming in the liquid gold of her imploring gaze, wishing he wasn't so afraid to tell her the truth. But then, this entire situation with her was caused by fear. Viktor had never considered himself a weak man, a cowardly man, a man beaten by his emotions.

He swallowed his both his pride and his fear. "I am afraid of you, Herm-own-ninny."

Her fine brows drew together; her succulent pink lips twisted in confusion. "Whatever for, Viktor?"

His voice was a low rumble—so low that Hermione had to move closer to him to hear. "I still care for you much, after so long, knowing you only through letters, sveetheart. I am scared I vill tell you, you vill reject me. Also…also I am scared I tell you, you not reject me now…but later, you do, and it vill giff me heartbreak. I lose…I lose much in this life already. I do not know vhat else…" Viktor's voice drifted off, but he didn't have to finish. He felt Hermione's small hand slide across the knee of his jeans and turned his face to hers. He didn't have to see her eyes nor did he need to hear her words. He knew she understood—just knew it, like winter knows when to spread her glimmering icy blanket across the world, like children know when to laugh and play games. He cupped her warm cheek in his palm, watched the way his long fingers framed the perfect expanse of her skin in little V's. And then, with all games forgotten, he leaned in and kissed her.

"Viktor!" Ginny exclaimed when he walked into the den the next evening. "We're just about to start the game; are you going to play?"

"Sure I am," he answered cheerfully. "Remus, you vill play too, yes?"

The startled werewolf looked up from his seat by the fire, where he was pretending to mend once again. "What?"

"Come on, Remus; Viktor's right. Why don't you play with us?" Tonks added. With a shy smile, Remus pulled up a chair to the table. Viktor took the one beside Hermione; she grinned at him.

"So, truth or dare?" Tonks asked Remus.

"Truth, I suppose."

She cocked her head and read the card. "Have you ever had a terrible experience on an airplane?"

"On a what?"

"Well, they are Muggle cards," Hermione answered sensibly. "Change 'airplane' to 'broom' and you can answer."

Remus smiled. "Well, there was this one time…" He launched into a story about a broom, a scatterbrained owl, and a lightning storm, leaving everyone laughing.

This time around, Viktor managed to hear Hermione's question. "What celebrity did you have your first crush on and why?"

Hermione's cheeks flushed pink. Merlin, how Viktor loved to see her blush! He waited for her answer, fairly certain it would be him. Was it cocky to suspect that? He wasn't sure.

"The prince, you know. From Sleeping Beauty. The Disney one. Because he comes and wakes her up with a kiss."

Everyone except Harry looked confused. "Hermione, I doubt anyone knows what you're talking about," he told her. "You can't choose a cartoon character."

She sighed, flushed brighter red, and mumbled another answer.

"Speak up, please; we can't hear you!" Ginny chortled.

This time, her answer was in a whisper, but understandable. Definitely understandable. "Viktor."

"And has he ever come and woken you up with a kiss?" Ginny teased. Viktor was afraid Hermione's face would turn purple. And no, he hadn't, but he would certainly put that on his to-do list.

"You do have to tell us why, you know," Ron said, who was still smarting from admitting his most embarrassing moment to the group.

Hermione took a deep breath and Viktor waited in anticipation. He knew she wouldn't mention Quidditch, but what would she say?

"He's…sensitive, and thoughtful, and smart…and a little shy…not conceited like people might expect." Viktor was thoroughly enjoying the praise; indeed, he thought he might be blushing a little. She grinned at him. "Also…he's a fantastic kisser. And he has sexy hands."

He did? Viktor looked down at his hands. They were big, calloused. Sexy? Hmm…This had possibilities.

He looked up and realized that everyone was howling with laughter as he gazed at his hands. Except for Hermione, that is. Her eyes were just shining at him.

She reached out and drew a card. "Truth, Viktor…or dare?"

This time, he would be brave. "Dare."

"Write down what you have always regretted not doing. Show it to the player to your right, then tear it up and throw it away."

Damn it, Viktor decided, he would do this right. He grabbed a pencil off the table, along with a scrap of paper.

Time to be bold, he scrawled. I have always regretted that I never had the chance to make love with you.

His eyes scanned the words, and, before he could decide not to give it to her, Viktor creased it sharply and placed it in her hand. He watched her carefully, wondering what she would do, what she would say. Surely she wouldn't laugh it off. Despite the cards that had drawn the admission from him, that note was from somewhere deep inside of him—it wasn't fun and games.

Her eyes grew wide; her breathing stopped. The very tip of her pink tongue slipped out and danced across her lips. "I…I don't feel well," she announced. "I need to go to bed." And then, shoving the note in her pocket, Hermione ran from the room.

"What the bloody hell did you write down?" Ron asked incredulously.

"I think I haff to go see that she is fine," Viktor said, somewhat confused himself, and followed Hermione's rapid flight.

When he knocked on the door of her room, he was surprised to hear her answer timidly, "Viktor?"

"Is me, yes."

"You can come in."

He was even more surprised to see her sitting cross-legged in the middle of her white comforter, smiling at him. She held out her hands to him, and, pushing the door shut behind him, he made his way to the edge of the bed.

"No regrets?" she whispered. Viktor felt his heart, among other things, begin to throb harder.

"No regrets," he answered, murmuring the words against her lips, deep and low, as he kissed her.

"Is Hermione feeling better?" Harry asked when Viktor slid into his seat at the breakfast table.

"Yes, she vill be fine. Vas up much last night," he answered calmly. "Had trouble sleeping, because of…of thing that came up during game, so she may be bit late for eating. But she vill be just fine this morning."

"I hope it's not contagious," Ron grumbled. "I don't want to get it."

Viktor choked back his smile. "You vill not, I am certain."

Just then, Hermione slid into the seat beside Viktor, all sweet smiles and rumpled hair. When he looked at her, he could feel the satin of her skin against his calluses, smell the perfume that was her own special scent, and taste her sweat against his tongue. Then, she turned those intoxicating eyes on him, and he was lost again.

Ginny eyed the shirt Hermione was wearing this morning—the one Viktor had worn yesterday. "Ron, I know for a fact you won't get what Hermione had."

"Ok, whatever," he answered. "What are we doing today? More games while we wait for news on You-Know-Who?"

"I think," Viktor announced, "that I am coming down vith vhat Herm-own-ninny had last night. So there should be no truth and daring for me today."

Hermione looked at him. Although her face was the picture of friendly concern, her eyes danced with an impishness that sent heat coursing from Viktor's toenails to the tips of his hair. "Oh, you poor thing! Don't worry," her voice grew husky, "I'll take good care of you. I know just what to do now, since you showed me last night."

So, although they skipped out on Truth or Dare…Viktor and Hermione had plenty of fun and games waiting for them—that day, and all of the rest.