Speech and pride

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the look - metronomy 

'Cause you're going 'round in circlesAnd everyone knows you're trouble'Cause you read it in a big bookAnd now you're giving me the look, look

˗ˏˋ 'ˎ˗

Zora Krum never thought she'd find herself celebrating a loss. Usually, it's the other way around. It's her win people toast to.

So when she steps into the Gryffindor common room, her chest tightens just slightly. A quiet reminder that she lost. That her team lost. A reminder that maybe the universe is trying to tell her something. That maybe, in the end, she's not meant for this. For Quidditch. That her mother, Alexei, everyone, is right.

But the feeling doesn't last long.

The energy in the room swallows her whole. Loud music, chants, stomping feet—the Gryffindor common room is full of House pride. The entire room is drenched in red and gold. Banners hang from the ceilings, people still have their face paint on, banners in hand.

Zora grabs a drink from a near table, sidestepping a shouting group of friends, then another, her smile creeping up despite herself. She moves through the crowd, pulled along by the momentum of it all. Because she feels it too.

Pride.

Real pride—for Angelina, for the team. They earned this.

But most of all—for Oliver.

She's trying to find a familiar face when someone suddenly grabs her arm. She turns, startled, and comes face to face with a familiar shock of red hair.

She recognises Ron.

"Miss Kr— I mean, Zora, hi!" he shouts over the music, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

Zora squints at him and gives him a warm, slightly amused smile.

He clears his throat. "Is Viktor here tonight? I, um, I really want him to sign my Quidditch glove."

Zora chuckles. "He should be coming by later. I'll flag you the moment I see him, alright?"

Ron lights up, throwing a victorious fist into the air, and before she knows it, he's hugging her tightly. A bit too tightly.

Zora blinks, surprised, but eventually wraps her arms around him in a slightly awkward pat-pat way.

"Thanks, thanks, thanks a million, Zora!" he says, then walks off toward his friends.

She shakes her head with a small laugh and continues her way through the crowd until she spots the Gryffindor team near the back of the room—half-buried under a sea of students. Her eyes immediately find Oliver, standing in the center of it all, smiling, drink in hand, deep in conversation with Roger Davies. There's something different about him tonight. He looks completely at ease—like he belongs, like he's finally let himself enjoy this.

Zora takes a few steps forward.

George spots her first.

"Oi! Look who finally decided to show up! Our favorite loser!" he shouts, slinging an arm around her shoulder.

The rest of the team turns to her, laughing as she rolls her eyes.

"Bold move showing your face, Krum," Angelina adds, challenging her. "After we wiped the pitch with you."

Zora smiles. "Bold is surviving this Gryffindor pride parade. I swear, if you paint this place any redder, I might actually vomit scarlet. But please, do keep going."

The others burst out laughing as the teasing continues. She laughs along, though her eyes flick back toward Oliver—still deep in conversation with Davies. She watches the way he talks, how his hands move when he's excited, muscles of his arms tensing, the upward curve of his mouth when he smiles. His team shirt clings proudly to his back and his whole face glows—tired, but radiant.

George clinks his drink against hers. "Let's be honest, we only won because Wood blocked every Quaffle and Potter's a bloody Snitch magnet."

Angelina lightly punches his shoulder. "Speak for yourself. I was extraordinary. As usual."

They start play-fighting, mocking each other like an old couple, and Zora rolls her eyes, smiling despite herself.

Oliver finally looks up from his conversation, and the second his gaze lands on Zora, something in him shifts. His face lights up—not just a smile, but something deeper. Relief, almost, something warm that reaches all the way to his eyes.

He makes his way through the crowd, and the moment people see him moving, the cheers pick up again.

"WOOD!"

"CAPTAIN!"

Hands clap his shoulders, arms wrap around him in congratulations. Fred ruffles his hair; Alicia shouts something unintelligible and hands him another drink. He just laughs, nodding, thanking everyone.

But his eyes never leave her.

Zora watches, arms crossed, smiling. He finally breaks through the huddle of red and gold and stops in front of her, just a breath away.

"Well," she says, tilting her head slightly, "it's getting hard to talk to you these days, Captain."

Oliver laughs, already flushed from the heat and the noise and probably the drink. "Busy man," he replies, stepping closer. "Fame, glory, fans screaming my name—it's a lot to handle."

Zora raises a brow. "Mm. Sounds exhausting. You poor thing."

His smile deepens. "Didn't know if you would come."

Zora shrugs and smiles. "Well, you know. Figure I could come here and keep your feet on the ground. It's, what—the first time in History you beat Zora Krum, right ? Wouldn't want you to have a head as big as —"

Oliver laughs and leans just a bit closer, cutting her. "You ?"

She rolls her eyes and nudges him with her shoulder. She feels her cheeks heating up when she feels his hands already gripping her hips. She meets his eyes. "For what it's worth, you deserve it. You played really well."

"You did too. That feint you pulled around the thirty-minute? I was sure you were about to pass left."

Zora smiles. "Exactly why I didn't."

"Oh, obviously." He smiles, eyes alight. "But the real killer was your inside loop at the forty-five. My Chasers panicked."

"They should've. They're too heavy on right-side pressure. I exploited that."

"Don't think I didn't notice," he answers. "You split our defense with that no-look pass to Adeline. Thought I was hallucinating."

"And you closed the left hoop four times in a row," she counters. "It's supposed to be your weakness. I hate you a little bit for that."

"You'll survive."

They go back and forth like that, replaying every second of the match as if they hadn't just lived it. Their hands mimic formations, fingers tracing invisible plays in the air. They're so deep in their little Quidditch world, they don't notice the rest of the team staring.

A few feet behind them, Angelina and George are standing side by side, watching the exchange with slowly raising eyebrows.

Angelina blinks. "Are they... are they seriously talking about the game?"

George leans in. "They're romanticizing formations, Angie. Look at them. Terrifying."

"They're actually foreplaying with strategy," she mutters. "That's sick."

Back in front, Zora is now drawing a route in the air with her finger, miming a near collision with one of the twins.

"Honestly," she says, "if George hadn't dropped low at that moment, I might've gotten through. But it was clean. Frustratingly clean."

Oliver nods, pleased. "I'm so proud of him. He's grown into the position. Better reflexes now."

Zora smiles. "Still can't cover a fake-out from the left, though."

Oliver leans in. "Don't you dare use that next time."

Zora's face drops. Next time. Will their be a next time ? She swallows and tries to ignore her thoughts.

She shrugs innocently. "Can't promise anything."

Zora and Oliver barely get through the second half of their breakdown of formations before a loud shout cuts through the room.

"SPEECH OR SHIRTS OFF!"

Zora jumps a little and turns to see Fred Weasley standing on the armrest of a couch, one hand holding a butterbeer, the other pointing directly at Oliver.

George joins him a second later. "You heard the man! Speech or shirts off, Wood!"

The whole common room shouts, half the students yelling "SPEECH," the other half immediately chanting "SHIRTS OFF." Someone starts drumming on a table.

Oliver's face goes completely blank.

He looks around, panicked, like he's trying to spot the nearest exit. "No. No, no, absolutely not. I'm not doing that. I'm not speaking to the whole—no—"

He turns to Zora for backup, but it's a lost cause.

She's already trying to hold in her laughter, both hands over her mouth. Her shoulders are shaking.

Oliver narrows his eyes. "Don't you dare laugh."

"I'm not," she says, very clearly laughing.

"Traitor."

By now, the crowd is closing in. They start nudging Oliver forward. The twins practically drag him toward the center of the common room.

"Come on, Captain!" Fred says. "Lead us!"

"Make us weep!" George adds. "Or at least confuse us with big words and unnecessary metaphors!"

Oliver resists. Truly. He plants his feet to the ground, refusing to move. He can't even hold a conversation properly with most of the common room, how can he do a speech in front of them ?

"I'm not— I don't do speeches—can't someone else—?"

But then he looks up and sees Zora in the back, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, biting her lip to keep from laughing. She tilts her head, waiting for him.

Oliver sighs so hard it's audible.

"Fine," he mutters. "You owe me."

With a reluctant groan, he lets the twins hoist him onto one of the tables. Fred claps his back dramatically. George waves his arms to hush the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen! The moment you've all been waiting for! The Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, the one, the only—"

Fred shouts, "OLIVER THE WALL WOOD!"

The room explodes. Cheers, stomping feet, a random "I LOVE YOU WOOD!" from the corner, to which Zora gives a suspicious look.

Oliver just stands there, frozen, rubbing the back of his neck. The silence that follows is worse.

He clears his throat. "Uh. Hi. Thanks. Hi."

The room laughs.

Zora leans over to Angelina. "Ten galleons says he'll find a way to talk about something else entirely."

"He's already sweating," Angelina whispers back, hiding behind her butterbeer.

Oliver keeps going. "So. This has been... a match. A good one. A hard one, yes. Very physical. Lots of Quaffles. Very... round Quaffles. And fast, also."

Fred puts his face in his hands.

George mutters, "This is going to be longer than the match."

"This is why you shouldn't have put him up there..." Lee says, half-laughing.

Oliver clears his throat. "Anyway. I—I've dreamed about this moment since my first year. I remember looking out at the pitch and thinking, 'One day I'll lead the team. One day I'll... win the Cup. And today, we did."

The room cheers again.

"I want to thank everyone. Angelina, my right-hand woman. Katie, Alicia—our wings. Freddie and Georgie, you killed it. Harry for catching the Snitch again, even though he nearly died in the process—again."

Everyone laughs. Pause.

"And... and I want to thank everyone who supported us and yelled like hell. And—"

"Wrap it up Cap'!" Fred shouts.

"Make it rhyme!" George adds.

"I'm not—" Oliver glares at them. "Let me finish!"

Zora is nearly in tears at this point, hand over her mouth to hide how fond she looks. The awkward ramble, the uptight posture, the complete sincerity in every sentence—it's ridiculous. Ridiculously endearing. Oh, how she loves it.

"Also—side note—I don't know who's responsible for this, but the grass is uneven in the southern section of the pitch, and I'm pretty sure it tilted a Quaffle trajectory today. That's going to need sorting before next year. I'll write a report. Because did you know that based on wind and the way the—"

Zora smiles, and without looking away, she holds her hand to Angelina at her side. She hears her friend groaning but ten galleons end up in her hand. "Told you."

Oliver finally gets to the end. "Anyway, this team, it's more than players. You're—, you're my family. So thanks for everything."

He locks eyes with Zora in the crowd. "I'm just happy because I'm leaving this school with everything I've ever dreamed of."

Everyone explodes and cheers on him. Fred laughs and whistles. "We know who he is talking about !," he shouts, rising his eyebrows. 

Oliver raises both hands in defeat. "That's it. I'm done. This is why I don't do speeches."

Before he can climb down, Fred and George yell "TO THE VICTOR!" and literally lift him off the table by his legs, the entire common room chanting his name.

After the party resumes again, Zora turns when she hears the door opening. She spots Viktor walking into the common room, closely followed by Adeline and Ivan.

He's barely set foot inside when a group of second and third-years lets out a collective gasp and starts whispering. Zora rolls her eyes and steps forward.

"Well, look who decided to grace us with his celebrity presence," she says, arms crossed.

Viktor shrugs, already scanning the room like he's looking for exits. "I was told there would be drinks."

Zora takes his arm and turns him to the other side of the room. "Your fans are right there."

Viktor follows her gaze and frowns.

Ron Weasley stands frozen near the fireplace, clutching a torn Quidditch glove between his hands.

"I promised him you'll sign his glove. Go on. Poor boy is waiting."

"Great," Viktor mutters.

"Be nice," Adeline says behind him and he just sends her a finger.

They watch as Ron enthusiastically presents Viktor with his glove and a shaky quill.

"I can't believe he brought a glove," Ivan mutters.

Adeline leans into him. "I think it's cute."

"You think everything is cute," Zora says.

Ivan raises an eyebrow. "And you think everything is annoying."

"Only the things that really are," she replies, looking at him straight in the eyes.

Angelina saves them. "Well, at least someone's making the most of this party."

Zora smiles, watching Viktor awkwardly sign Ron's glove while the boy looks like he is about to faint.

Then she scans the room, her eyes subtly moving through the party — the dancing, the groups yelling over music, someone balancing cups on someone else's head — until they stop.

Her smile drops.

There, by the wall, half-shadowed by a banner, stands Oliver.

And Mary.

They're talking. But she's standing close — closer than she needs to be. Mary has one hand on her hip, the other gesturing animatedly. Oliver says something back and smiles — the kind of soft, polite smile he gives when he's tired or a little overwhelmed.

Zora doesn't move. She watches. And wait.

Angelina notices first. "Uh oh. Krum, you there with us ?"

"Yeah, sorry," she mumbles.

Viktor comes back to the group. "God, he called me Vicky. I didn't know what to do."

Everyone laugh and tease Viktor at that, expect Zora who is looking back at Mary and Oliver, still talking at the other side of the room.

"What's with her ?" Viktor asks, noticing the fact she was away.

"She's jealous of that one Gryffindor girl," Adeline answers.

Zora snaps her head toward him. "No. I'm not jealous."

All four of them stare at her.

"I'm not jealous," she repeats, sharper this time. "Why would I be jealous? He can talk to whoever he wants."

"Sure," Adeline says slowly.

Angelina leans over. "You're crushing that cup in your hand."

Zora looks down. The rim is slightly bent from where her fingers tightened. She clears her throat and lets go.

But her eyes drift back. And she watches. Watches the way Mary tosses her hair. The way Oliver listens, nodding like he's making an effort.

Angelina nudges her. "Just go interrupt them."

"I'm not interrupting anything." Zora shifts her weight, still staring.

Zora doesn't answer. They resume their conversation about Quidditch and competition. But Zora doesn't listen. Too busy watching them.

It's only when a few minutes later, when she hears Adeline and Ivan shouting, that she finally gets back her attention to them.

She turns and sees Adeline facing Ivan. She's towering over him, taller but his look his terrifyingly dark.

"I'm just saying," Ivan snaps, "if you spent half as much time playing as you do flirting, maybe you would have make the French National Team without try-outs."

Adeline's mouth falls open. "Excuse me?"

"I mean," he scoffs, "look at you ! Talking to every fucking guy in this school and making eyes at them while I'm standing right next to you."

A beat of silence.

"Tu te fous de ma gueule là j'espère?" Adeline shouts, her voice high with disbelief.

Zora barely has time to step forward before the argument explodes. They're shouting now, both talking over each other, but Ivan's voice is rising, angrier. Zora is confused, doesn't even know what they are fighting over.

"You act like you're better than everyone—flirting, showing off, talking loud—when all you are is—"

"Don't," Adeline says. "Don't you dare—"

"a slut in need of attention."

Zora feels Viktor tense beside her. She glances up. Lips tight, fist clenched, he starts to move. But then stops when Ivan moves too.

As he turns to leave, he shoves Adeline's shoulder with his own, muttering something under his breath.

Zora runs forward. "Ivan, what the fuck—!"

But Viktor is already moving.

He grabs Ivan by the collar with one furious motion and slams him back into the wall. His voice, low and venomous, spills out in rapid Bulgarian:

"Don't ever talk to her like that again. Never. In fact, don't ever talk to her again," he spits in Bulgarian.

Ivan freezes, suddenly a lot less brave with Viktor's face inches from his, fury radiating from every muscle.

The room goes quiet. People are watching now. Cheers and shocked laughter burst through the crowd.

Zora runs to Adeline, catching her arm gently.

"Hey. Hey, you okay?"

Adeline is breathing fast, blinking hard. She nods once, then again, but her eyes are glassy. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just—putain, what an asshole."

"I know," Zora says, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry. That shouldn't have happened."

At the front of the room, Viktor pushes Ivan toward the exit. He doesn't even look back as he shoves him through the portrait hole.

Someone whistles. Someone else claps. Zora stays with Adeline until a familiar hand touches the small of her back.

Oliver.

Always the same. Gentle, warm and grounding touch.

"Zora," he says quietly. "Are you alright?"

She nods. "Yeah."

His eyes flick to Adeline. "And you Ad?"

Adeline takes a breath and nods. "Yeah, thanks Ollie."

He nods. "What happened ?" he asks, tightening his grip on her.

Angelina joins them. "We should get out of here. She doesn't need to be in this room right now."

Zora looks to Adeline, who gives a small nod. She turns to Oliver. "See you later, okay ?"

He nods, takes her hand and leaves a kiss on her knuckles. She smiles and joins the girl out of the common room.

The air outside is soft, the silence almost strange after the thundering noise of the party. Zora's the last to step through the portrait hole. She joins her friends and sits next to them against the wall.

Angelina exhales slowly. "Well... that was a scene."

Adeline snorts, but it's bitter. "Yeah. Sorry about that."

Zora nudges her gently. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."

Adeline runs a hand through her hair. "I just—ugh—I don't even know how it started. We were talking about Quidditch. Roger joined us and we talked together. Then he started being so mean." She scoffs. "Like what is wrong with him?"

"Everything," Zora and Angelina say in unison.

They all fall into a short silence again.

"I mean, I knew he could be a prick sometimes," Adeline mutters, her voice small. "But that was just—next level."

Zora leans back against the stone wall, arms crossed, eyes on her. "He's always been insecure. I told you—"

Andeline's head snaps. "Don't. Please. Not now."

Zora doesn't finish her sentence. She locks eyes with Angelina who looks like she is about to murder her. She sighs. Maybe I should have shut the fuck up. 

Adeline chews her lip, her eyes darting to the floor. "I shouldn't have said anything. I should've just walked away."

"No," Zora says firmly. "Don't even start with that. You were defending yourself. And I'm glad you did."

Angelina nods. "God, I hate men," Zora adds.

"Also," Angelina adds, waiting to diffuse the tension, "I think someone else had a very strong opinion on the matter."

Zora smiles and nods. "Viktor."

Adeline's eyebrows lift, and she lets out a short laugh, blush creeping up her cheeks. "Yeah, what was that? He went full bodyguard."

Angelina mimics his low voice and words from a few minutes earlier dramatically. "I didn't understand a word but I felt the rage."

Zora smiles and nudges Adeline. "He's protective."

Angelina shakes her head with a little laugh. "Remind me not to piss him off."

"Honestly?" Zora sighs. "I think he was holding back."

Adeline ends up smiling and looks at her friends like she's about to say something important.

"What ?" Zora asks.

"Okay, that was soooo hot !" she finally ends up saying.

Angelina rolls her eyes. "Alright, now go make Ivan cry and make out with Viktor please. Like this we will all be happy."

"No way. He only did that because I'm Zora's friend," Adeline says.

"Bullshit", Zora shouts in the corridor, making the girls laugh.

Then Adeline glances over. "Thanks for staying with me."

Zora smiles. "Always."

Angelina nudges them both. "We're your girls. That's what we do."

Adeline offers a faint smile but sighs. "God, can't believe he did that. In front of everyone. Quel connard !"

Zora glances toward the closed portrait. "Let them talk. You've got nothing to be ashamed of. You held your ground. And Viktor dealt with the trash."

Angelina stretches. "Honestly, we needed the drama. The party was getting too sentimental."

Zora smiles. "Next time, let's schedule the brawl before the drinking. Safer."

They all laugh again.

After this, Adeline decides to call it a night—claims she's tired but kisses both of them on the cheek with that look in her eyes that says I need some space. They let her go without pushing.

Zora and Angelina head back toward the common room, walking shoulder to shoulder in silence. But the moment they push open the portrait hole, it's clear something has shifted.

The party is finally getting started. Youngers have gone to bed, music is louder, the ground is sticking with spilled drinks. Some are dancing, talking, drinking and some are already snoring loudly on the sofas, completely passed out.

"Okay," Angelina says, blinking. "Now it's a party."

Zora chuckles, scanning the room, and spots Cedric leaning against the wall near the drinks table, talking to Lee. He spots her and waves her to come.

"Go on," Angie says with a nudge. "I'll go find George and see if he isn't broken yet."

Zora walks through the room and reaches Cedric just as Lee heads off, mumbling something about checking if the twins are still alive.

Cedric looks up and smiles. "Hey, Krum."

"Diggory," she nods, stealing the drink from his hand and taking a sip.

She takes a sip and grimaces. "Ugh. Warm."

"Better than the Firewhisky Fred's handing out," Cedric says, nodding toward the corner where the twins are drinking.

Zora chuckles, leaning against the wall beside him. For a moment, they both fall into easy silence, watching the aftermath of the biggest match of the year unfold.

"You all played well," Cedric says eventually. "Really well. You especially. It was honestly the best match of the year."

"Not enough, though."

"No," he agrees. "But they didn't win easily. Thanks to you."

She smiles a little. "Thank you."

He tilts his head, studying her. "You disappointed?"

Zora thinks about it, rolling the glass between her hands. "Honestly? Less than I expected." She breathes out slowly. "I think I just wanted to be proud of what we did. And I am."

Cedric nods like he understands. "You should be."

Then Cedric's expression shifts slightly, more serious. "Saw what happened earlier. With the guy from your school."

Zora stiffens.

"Adeline is okay?" he asks.

She shrugs. "I think so. Viktor handled it."

Cedric nods. "He looked ready to snap him in half."

"Ivan's not even worth it," she says.

Cedric is quiet for a moment. Zora turns her head toward him. He looks nervous despite his usual confidence. She's about to ask him how he is doing but he moves first.

He finishes off the Butterbeer, stretches. "Anyway. I'm turning in. A champion needs his sleep."

She rolls her eyes. "I hope the night will lower your ego too."

He chuckles. "Also, Wood is about to bloody hex me if I keep talking to you, I think."

Zora turns her head and follows Cedric's gaze to Oliver at the other side of the room, glaring at them.

He turns to go but pauses, then glances back. "By the way, tell him he owes me a drink. I put money on Gryffindor but only because I knew you'd push them hard."

"Fair bet," she says with a grin.

Cedric gives her a little salute and disappears into the crowd. She watches him go before turning and catching Oliver's eyes again.

He tilts his head toward a little corner of the room, quiet, where there is a window.

She pushes to the crowd and walks to the quiet corner. The window is wide open, letting in the fresh air hitting her face, soft and welcome after the suffocating heat inside. The moon is full, trying its best to imitate light of the sun. Oliver is already there, his back to her, shoulders tense, arms resting against the railing.

Zora steps closer and leans against the windowsill She feels his head turn toward her, his gaze burning into her skin. She smiles, narrowing her eyes, melting under his gaze.

Zora presses her lips together, debating whether or not to bring up Mary. She could let it go. But it's far too tempting. "Do the perks of victory usually include standing really close to Benett for, what, an hour?"

Oliver doesn't answer at first. She swears she sees the corner of his mouth twitch, eyes scanning her from head to toe. Then he steps in front of her, bracing his arms on either side of her. She tilts her chin up to meet his eyes.

"I don't know," he murmurs. "Does losing the Cup Final usually involve sharing a drink with Diggory?"

Zora grins and tilts her head. "Touché, Captain."

He leans in just a little more. "I like it when you're jealous."

"I'm not jealous."

He just breathes out a quiet laugh. "Right," he says simply, then dips his head to press a kiss to her cheek, her jaw, the side of her neck.

She tries her best to ignore the way it makes her melt. The chills. The way her legs threaten to give in.

"She wanted what this time?" Zora asks, voice a little uneven. "Another midnight ride?"

She feels Oliver chuckle against her neck, and she grips the railing behind her for balance.

"Not jealous, huh?"

He finally pulls back and meets her eyes. His hands come to her face, cradling it gently, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks. He studies her with that intense, quiet focus of his—like he already knows her face by heart, like he's making sure everything is exactly where it should be. Like he's afraid something might change.

"I'm sorry you lost, Zora," he says at last.

She shakes her head slightly. "The happiness I felt for you and your team—it was stronger than the sting of losing. You deserved this way more than I did, Oliver."

His fingers tighten slightly on her cheeks. Oliver has always been easy to read. He doesn't talk much, but his face tells every story. The deep breath. The furrow in his brow. The way his lips part, like a response is there but stuck somewhere.

Everything about him says he's moved.

"And my Beaters didn't help," she adds with a soft smile.

He exhales a quiet laugh, glancing up at the sky before returning his eyes to hers.

He wants to say something else, she can tell. But nothing comes out at first. He just looks at her like he's holding the most precious thing he owns.

"When you—earlier, when you told me you were proud of me," he pauses, searching for the right words, "did you really mean that?"

Zora frowns slightly, confused for a second—but softens when she understands. How much this means to him. How simple words can undo him. How they can steady him. Heal him.

She knows—oh, how well she knows—that Oliver never really had someone at home to soothe him. To tell him they were watching. That they were proud. She knows he spent his whole life waiting to hear it from his father. And in the end, he only learned disappointment.

The power of words is a dangerous thing. Holding onto them can be foolish; they can save you or destroy you.

Zora smiles softly. "Of course I'm proud of you, Oliver. But you should be proud of yourself too," she adds, gently pressing her finger to his chest.

"I'm proud of you," she repeats, firmer this time. "Not just for the match. For everything you are and you do."

She pauses. "And I'm proud to be yours."

He leans in, rests his forehead against hers. He exhales slowly. His hands slide down her arms and he takes hers in his.

They stay like that for a long moment. Just breathing.

"I'm really glad you're here tonight," he whispers.

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," she answers.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to meet her eyes again, a small, grateful smile curving his lips.

"Do I get to kiss you now, or is that too much of a Gryffindor move?"

Zora smiles and rolls her eyes. "You did just win the Cup. I guess you've earned it."

His hands slide to her lower back and he leans in, kissing her slow and deep like everything is going to be okay now.

If only.

˗ˏˋ 'ˎ˗

The desks have been pushed to the sides of the room, chairs stacked in a lazy pile in the corner. One of the windows doesn't close properly, letting in a steady breeze that warms the cold classroom of the dungeons.

Zora fires off a Disarming Charm, and Viktor blocks it without even raising his wand — just muttering the counter with a flick of his wrist.

"Show-off," she mumbles, brushing her hair from her eyes.

The third task is in exactly one week. Every day after class, Zora offered Viktor to train with him for the final day. And everyday after class, they meet in this old classroom which smells like dust to practice spells and charms.

Zora has found herself extremely less busy since the final match last weekend and offered her time. In reality, she is far more worried about what will happen to Viktor during the third task and wants him to be ready no matter what.

"You offered me to train," he replies with the ghost of a smirk. "I am doing just that."

"You're being annoying."

"Same thing."

Zora breathes hard, lowering her wand, sweat sticking her shirt to her back. She glances at the room. "The pitch would've been better than this place. At least we'd have space. And fresh air. But no. They decided to turn our sacred space into some gardening madness or whatever is growing in there."

"Not much of a secret location, though," Viktor points out, sitting on a desk and wiping his brow with the edge of his sleeve.

Zora rolls her eyes and sinks down into the chair across from him. "I still think we're breathing in centuries of dust."

He shrugs. "Might be good for the lungs. Magic dust."

They sit in silence for a few seconds, both catching their breath. Zora's gaze drifts to her wand, still warm in her hand.

"So," she starts, her voice betrayed by her worry, "what's it really going to be like? The maze."

Viktor stretches his legs in front of him and stares at the ceiling. "Hard. Confusing. Full of things that want to hurt you."

"That's comforting."

"You asked."

Zora watches him, arms crossed over her chest. "Do you think you have a chance to win?"

He shrugs. "Potter is smart. Too brave for his own good, but smart. Cedric's solid. Focused." A pause. "And Fleur's better than people give her credit for. Deadly with charms."

"So you're scared of your competition."

"I respect them," he corrects.

Zora lets that sit. She studies him for a beat, something playful shining in her eyes. "You're going to win for Adeline ?"

Viktor stiffens. Actually stiffens. He sits straighter, stares very determinedly at the floor. "What are you on about ?"

Zora grins and rises her hands. "Fine. Let's ignore the fact you beat up Ivan for her."

"I would have done the same for everyone."

"Yeah, right," she answers, laughing.

He scowls. "This— this is irrelevant."

Zora kicks at his boot lightly. "It's cute. She likes you too, by the way."

He frowns and blushes furiously. "She argued with me for twenty minutes the next morning saying she doesn't need someone to protect her."

Zora shrugs. "Yeah. Love."

That gets him to smile. A small one, but real.

She studies him. Viktor. Her cousin. More than that, her brother. Her twin. Her soulmate. Her rock.

Her only family left.

And then it hits her.

Like it always does, out of nowhere.

The contract. The power she has to destroy his life in one single decision.

Zora blinks once, twice, the smile still on her face, but her stomach drops. Her chest tightens. Because she knows — she knows what's hanging above all of them, what's written in ink that could change everything. And the thought of Viktor, this boy who's always protected her, who deserves everything good, being dragged into the mess of it—

She presses her lips together and looks away.

"Zora? You alright ?"

She shakes her head lightly. "Yes."

He doesn't push.

Instead, he shifts closer, sitting on the edge of her desk now, looking down at her with concern.

Then she stands and steps into his arms, wraps her arms tightly around him, rests her forehead against his chest.

"I love you," she says.

His arms fold around her instantly, no hesitation. "I love you too, Zora."

˗ˏˋ 'ˎ˗

hello everyone ! new chapter <3 hope you still like this story. 

it's going to be longer than planned because i don't know, i'm inspired and i write a lot. for example in this chapter, it wasn't supposed to be only the party and the scene with Viktor, but also the third task. but idk i felt inspired by the party. don't hesitate to tell me if you find the chapter too long, or some scenes too detailed. 

thanks a lot on 76k it's so so HUGE and don't hesitate to tell me what you think of everything and everyone at this point ---->>>> 

i love you like crazy <3