#Come for the unexpected jealousy stay for the even more unexpected ordeal of being known

[erisenyo]

Your jetko is KILLING me. "I hate the way that I don’t hate you," OR "don't trust me," for these two idiots.

For this prompt game! (And also this one!)

(Can be read along with this and this and this)

Familiar is a word with many meanings, Zuko knows.

There’s familiar, as in the way they’ve been traveling in a direction Zuko can admit is both purposeful and known and has been for a few days now.

There’s familiar, the reflexive wariness Zuko feels after being in the Earth Kingdom on his own during the war when Jet takes him toward a little town to resupply while the rest of the Freedom Fighters set up camp for the night.

There’s familiar, the assurance Jet gives him that the town knows the Freedom Fighters.

And then there’s familiar, the way Zuko trails Jet into the general store and hears him greet the shopkeeper with a drawled, “Hello, Mei Lin, beautiful as ever, I see,” and she glances up, pretty and tough in a way that makes Zuko’s stomach drop, and Jet leans against the counter and says, “Miss me, gorgeous?” and Zuko feels himself go still.

“What do you need this time, Jet?” Mei Lin asks, crossing her arms. “You know I won’t take your credit.”

“Beautiful, you wound me,” Jet pouts, somehow managing to still smirk as he does it. “You know I have coin.” He cocks his head. “The question is, do you have…”

Zuko feels like he’s watching it all from a distance. Like it’s a play, one he's already seen before. Jet leaning against the counter. Cocking his hip and smirking. Flexing and stretching. Chewing on that wheatgrass and glancing through his lashes and doing things Zuko recognizes and burns to see.

“And who’s this?” Mei Lin asks, eyes flicking over Zuko in a cool, impersonal once-over. “Another stray?”

“Lee?” Jet doesn't even look over. “He’s just—"

“No one,” Zuko snaps over top of him, the words grinding out hard and rough before he even realizes he’s going to say them, his knuckles aching where his fists are clenched down at his sides as Jet finally glances back over his shoulder, surprised. Mei Lin raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

“He’s just a friend,” Jet finishes after a beat, still watching Zuko, curious. Mei Lin’s other eyebrow ticks up.

“Ah,” she says, knowing.

“Now I didn’t say that, beautiful, did I?” Jet drawls still without taking his gaze off Zuko, leaning back against the counter now so he can fully face Zuko, his body lazy and languid in its sprawl and his eyes watchful.

Mei Lin gives Jet a dry look, then tilts her head toward Zuko. “You didn’t have to,” she says, grabbing up her list and heading into the back to gather up their purchases.

“You hear that, babe?” Jet smirks as he pushes off the counter like he doesn't have bones, expression teasing and distantly amused as he saunters over, “I think you’re a little obvious.”

“I’m obvious,” Zuko growls, inner fire flaring with— “I’m—”

“What,” Jet interrupts, running a finger down Zuko's chest, pouting in mock hurt. “You don’t trust me, babe?”

Zuko glares at him, then over his shoulder at Mei Lin as she quietly sets a sack of rice flour on the counter, Mei Lin meeting his eyes with a cool kind of indifference before she heads into the back again. He transfers his glare back to Jet who is smirking and pressing on Zuko's solar plexus over his lightning scar and all affected nonchalance and—

“I do,” Zuko snarls like a challenge, wanting to shove Jet, to push him, to punch him, to break that fucking pretend-it-doesn’t-matter smirk right of his space, wanting— “And you know what, I think you got this one all on your own, Jet,” he spits, turning on his heel and wondering if he imagined the flash of surprise on Jet’s face. “I’ll meet you outside.”

“You trust me, huh,” Jet says later as he finds Zuko with annoying ease in the alley Zuko ducked into for the shade and the quiet and mostly for the privacy to glare and kick things and generally be petulant like he never allows himself to be in public anymore.

Zuko glowers from where he’s sitting on one of the crates that was too sturdy to break apart and tries to reach for the thin shred of calm he’s managed to regain for whatever goading Jet's clearly about to do.

"Trust," Jet repeats like he's trying out the word, smirking at Zuko. “That mean you’re not going to kiss me to see if you taste someone else on my lips?”

Zuko hisses, fire lashing in his chest because he fucking wants nothing more right now than to grab Jet by the back of the neck and make him remember exactly whose name he was choking out last night, and Jet is fucking still smirking at him like he knows it, tossing the expression over his shoulder as he crouches down to busy himself distributing their purchases between their two packs, testing weight and tying ties and abruptly saying, almost diffident, “You shouldn’t, you know.”

Zuko slashes him a sideways glance, not in the mood. “Kiss you?”

“Trust me,” Jet corrects as he ties off the pack, glancing up, his expression neutral enough for Zuko to pause on the sharp edge of his anger.

“No?” Zuko asks after a long moment, forcing himself to take a steady, even breath. “Why not?”

Zuko half expects something over the top outrageous and flirty, but Jet just chews on his wheatgrass a moment, looking at him, fingers tapping against his pack before he finally says, “I can’t give you what you need, Zuko.”

Zuko…didn't expect to hear that. “What makes you think you know what I need?” he asks, slow, half expecting a joke.

“Oh, babe,” Jet smirks as easy as sliding on a mask, giving him a lazy once over and uncoiling to his feet to saunter into Zuko’s space, reminding Zuko of nine years ago but for the first time not in a good way, “I know plenty of what you need.”

“Yeah?” Zuko asks, half-wary as he lets Jet crowd him back until he has to spread his legs to make room and brace his hands on the crate behind him. “What, then?”

“You want,” Jet whispers, leaning in to say the words soft and sultry against his unscarred ear, “To stop—” hands sliding up Zuko’s ribs. “—holding yourself—” thumbs teasing at his nipples in punctuation. “—back.”

Zuko sucks in a hard breath, shuddering at the unexpectedness of it before he can catch himself. His inner fire wrenches with want and he squeezes his eyes shut, gripping the edge of the crate in a desperate attempt to ground himself. He instinctively reaches for all the patterns of calm, calm, calm he spent so long banging into his head, hitching halfway into the stare of a breath control pattern and eyes snapping open to stare at Jet from a few inches away, Jet's gaze looking back knowing and so unsettlingly, uncomfortably understanding.

“I—” Zuko tries, mouth suddenly dry, “That’s not—I’m supposed to—”  

“You want to cut free,” Jet murmurs almost gently, watching Zuko’s face as he steps forward between Zuko’s thighs. “You want to scream.” Hands sliding down his sides. “You want to slam doors in all their faces,” Jet continues, voice suddenly going hard, low and near vibrating with intensity as he climbs up to straddle him, “And you want to tell them all to go fuck themselves.”

Zuko grabs Jet’s hands as they dip toward the tie of his pants. “You don’t—you don’t—you…”

“You want it,” Jet says hot and intense into his ear before suddenly sitting back on Zuko’s thighs, head cocking almost coy. “And there’s no need to wait, babe,” he purrs, licking his lips as he stares at Zuko’s hands tight around his wrists before meeting Zuko’s gaze. “We can start right now,” he murmurs, sinking his hips against Zuko’s lap in clear invitation and for a moment Zuko can only stare, frozen, feeling his inner flame burning wild and high, his heart pounding, his limbs nearly buzzing with something so close to adrenaline-exhilaration that it might as well be the same thing.

“Or,” Jet says after a moment, head cocking the other way when Zuko doesn’t move, “I can always—”

Zuko darts up, grabbing onto Jet’s hair and yanking him down and biting the side of his neck before he even registers the impulse, sucking with more force than finesse as Jet sucks in a surprised breath. Then he shoves Jet away just as suddenly, Jet’s gasp turning into a grunt of surprise as he goes right off the edge of the crate, barely making his feet before Zuko lunges forward to set his hands on Jet’s shoulders and shoves again, the sound of Jet's knees hitting the hard-packed dirt shuddering through him in the sudden silence.

“We can start now,” Zuko rasps out, shaky and wild and openly wanting like he never hears himself, something strange thrilling in his chest at the sound and then again as Jet half-laughs, reaching up to touch the already reddening mark on his neck, expression something between delighted and incredulous.

“You’re a quick learner, babe,” Jet breathes, grinning up at him feral and hungry and reaching for Zuko’s pants. “No better time than now.”

[harrywritingsbyme]

Calm

Based Off Of This Ask

And This One

This One Too

A/N: I’m not gonna lie…I had no idea what I was going to write for tonight😭. So I went “dumpster diving” in my want to write folder and old drafts and I found these concepts from a tiny while ago that I absolutely loved. So I did a hot lil something something with them...I hope it doesn't suck and you guys like it! Enjoy🙃

Jealousy, something that you and Harry we’re very familiar with. But mainly Harry though. See, despite the fact that he’d been with you for years at this point and had been married to you for a little over two years, Harry still got jealous. In fact, Harry was even more jealous now than before he slid the sparkling ring onto your coveted left ring finger. Just the thought of anyone coming less than five feet of you with an obviously flirtatious disposition made his flags go up and his jealousy levels spike. And to be completely honest, it was all because Harry was selfish. He wanted you all to himself, and anyone who even attempted to come in between you two went on his radar and he’d go on the defense. Now even though in most situations his jealousy was unwarranted and too much for the situation at hand, you did still enjoy it a bit. You loved when Harry was possessive over you and made it known to others that you were his. It was a really nice mix of soft and sweet along with hot and sexy. 

And judging by what was going on between you and Harry right now, it was guaranteed that you and Harry were going to be enjoying a heavy dose of that sweet and spicy jealousy. The two of you were enjoying your night out at a mutual friends birthday party, and you both were having a really good time mixing and mingling while managing to stay joined at the hip for the majority of your time there. But as you continued to glide through the party with Harry, you were contently sipping on your drink which led you to quickly empty your glass and be in need of a refill. Once you unwrap yourself from Harry, let him know that you’re going to get another drink, and inquire about whether or not he wants his drink refreshed, you weave yourself through the cluster of people and over to the bar where you place your order. And in this small window of time between leaving him and placing your order, you manage to walk right into the number one situation that would cause Harry to become jealous. Talking to an attractive guy that he didn’t know at the bar. 

Now even though the sparkler on your left hand was supposed to stop any flirtatious advances towards you, it didn’t. Despite clearly being married, you were still approached by males and females who wanted to “break off a piece” in the words of Harry. And to make matters worse, you went above and beyond to make yourself up. You spent a good amount of time getting yourself together for your night out with Harry. You looked so good that you two were extremely close to not even making it out the front door. So if Harry was looking and practically drooling at the thought and/or sight of you, there was so doubt in his mind that others were looking too. And he didn’t like that one bit. So once he saw you chatting it up with a guy who’s identity was unknown to him and who was pretty obviously checking you out and flirting, Harry’s disposition immediately went from calm cool, and collected, to calm collected, and defensive. The only thing that stopped him from swiftly coming over and injecting himself into the seemingly “harmless” exchange was a friend of his that stopped him right in his tracks. And if it wasn’t for that friend, Harry would’ve marched over to where you were, pulled you away from the man who from his vantage point was up to no good, then give it to you real good as he constantly reminded you that you were his and only his. That’s what could’ve happened. But instead of all that, Harry’s jealous fire was momentarily tempered to just a sizzle. Being at just a sizzle meant that he could do the unexpected right now. 

Being at just a sizzle allowed him to politely, but not so politely pull you out of the conversation and pull you both out of the party. From the outside, everything seemed oddly fine. He didn’t have a prominent scowl on his face as he drove you both home and he didn’t have an intense grip in your thigh. He simply had a hand on the steering wheel and the other loosely planted on your thigh. Seeing him so calm was very interesting to say the least. When you saw him in your peripherals at the party, you were kind of expecting and looking forward to having a hot jealousy filled quickie in the bathroom. You were expecting and hoping for him to fuck you like he hates you but because he loves you. But no, you got a calm cool and collected Harry who simply escorted you both out of there. The only thought you two had in common during the entire ordeal and the entire ride home was that you were going to get it upon arrival.

Now you were on the money about getting it at home, you were just off at the timing. You were thinking right against the door or in the living room since he’s had time for these jealous thoughts to fester as he drove. And he did let his thoughts fester in his mind and bring back the fiery feeling inside of him. Harry was definitely, if not more jealous and possessive once you two made it back home. He was more than ready to rip your clothes off and go to town on you as he made sure that you remembered who you belonged to. But yet again, he didn’t jump right in the way you expected. He simply walked you both into the house and right upstairs to get ready for bed.

At this point, you were on edge. When was he finally going to do something?! You knew he was hard and you knew that he was jealous. This was the perfect combination for a round or many of hot and rough sex. But in this situation, he simply went about getting ready for bed and helping you get undressed as well. You were buzzing with anticipation and you were constantly thinking of the many possible segways into what was bound to happen. You were all types of confused, excited, at the prospect of finally getting what you wanted. And your dream finally came true once you and Harry quietly went through you guys’ entire nighttime routine and were in bed. Even though you weren’t necessarily trying to end up in a situation where Harry was jealous and desperate to establish in your mind that you were his, you weren’t mad at it by any means.

“You know I love you, right darling?” Harry asks randomly, propping himself up onto his elbow to peer down at you.

“Mhm.” You hum up to him in response, making sure to send him a soft and reassuring smile in the process.

“Good.” He simply replies, bringing his free hand down to the side of your face. “Because I’m gonna fuck you like I don’t.” He continues, bringing the hand down to wrap around your throat and tightening it right as he mutters the last word. Harry was hard and Harry was jealous; it was game on for him. He wasn’t going to hold back; and to be completely honest, you weren’t expecting him to. As soon as his hand tightened around your throat, a shock went to your core and you were ready to take every last thing he gave you until you were just a pile of numbness.  “I swear to you. I won’t stop until your legs are shaking and the neighbors know my name.” He growls, bringing his face down closer to yours and keeping his hand on your throat as he moves on top of you and pushes up the bottom of his t-shirt to uncover your lower half. He then gives your throat one more tight squeeze, making sure that he was pushing your head down into the pillows before releasing you. While you’re panting to catch your breath, Harry is snatching any and every (even though it was only two things) piece of clothing off of your body. After getting you fully undressed, Harry is quick to push you over and tug his own t-shirt and boxers off as well. Now that he’s fully naked as well, Harry doesn’t waste a single second to wrap his hand around and tug at his cock. He was finally free of the confines of his pants and he was finally going to be inside of you after a long night. 

As he tugs at his cock, you can feel his other hand come between your legs and begin to move up and down your folds. You felt him push his two fingers up and down your slick folds and nudge at your entrance while he grunted and relieved himself a bit behind you. As he did this you tightened your arms around the pillows beneath your head and you soaked up any form of touch from him. Knowing Harry, even though he’s mad and ready to just pound you into oblivion, he’d build up to it and just leave you both hanging in the name of making you suffer. So you were definitely praying that he’d do more and not stop all together. He did say that he wasn’t going to stop until you were shaking and the neighbors knew his name after all.

After a couple more tugs to his cock and rubs to your soaking cunt, Harry finally pushes further to the place that you both are looking forward to. Keeping his hand around his cock, he lifts himself up from his kneeling position between your legs and into the position of hovering over your body with his other hand that was once between your legs planted on the bed for support. Then without warning, Harry begins to sheath his cock between your walls. Even though he was supposed to be Mr. Tough Guy and in charge right now, he couldn’t stop himself from letting out a little whimper. Your walls just felt so good around his cock. Like so good. And he wasn’t the only one whimpering. You too were a mess at the feeling of his cock stretching your walls to accommodate your size and twitching while it’s moving deeper and deeper into you. He was so big that the thick veins on his shaft were pushing into your spongy walls, causing you to feel them glide against you as he pushed into you. Now as he slowly fills you with his cock, Harry also begins to slowly lower himself down onto you until he’s fully on top of you body. You were sandwiched between his body and the mattress, your legs were pinned down by his, and his mouth was in your neck right by your ear. He was ultimately setting you up to be a mess around him. 

“Now you’re gonna be a good girl and take it right?” He asks, keeping his mouth right on you as he spoke.

“Mhm.” You whimper shakily, waiting for him to finally start and give you what you’ve been anticipating.

“Words!” He snarls, lifting his hips to send a sharp and unexpected thrust into you.

“Yes!” You gasp, feeling his cock slam right up into your sweet spot.

“Good girl.” Harry hums delightedly before continuing his thrusts. He consistently lifts his hips up, slightly pulling his cock from you just to slam back down into you sending his cock into the deepest parts of you. As he does this, you’re full on whining into the pillows. The way he was relentlessly fucking down into you as he grunted into your ear about how you were his and that he was the only one who would ever do this to you. It was absolutely amazing.

After pinning you down and fucking you right into the mattress, Harry was ready to switch it up. He wanted to see your face as you took every inch of his cock. He wanted to watch you fall apart as he imprinted his cock into your delectable walls. So to make a long story short, Harry is quick to lift himself up from your back and flip you back into your original position in front of him. When he does this, you’re still clutching onto the pillow that was once beneath your head as you anxiously wait for him to slam back into you. Before he does though, Harry latches onto the pillow and tugs it out of your tight yet weak grip and tosses it onto the bed behind him with a cynical smirk plastered across his face. He then brings his large, and still ringed hand around your throat before lining his cock back up with your entrance and pushing back into you. Again, he goes straight into thrusting down into you. As he did, your hands frantically searched for something to grab onto as you took the deliciously hard thrusts. From this angle, you could feel him really hitting those spots inside of you and you could feel his balls slapping against you.

Harry on cloud nine right now to say the least. You felt so good around him, clenching and shaking as you took his cock. And you looked so pretty with your glossed over eyes and as you choked on your moans. 

“Now m’gonna let go and I wanna hear you use that little voice of yours. Understand?” Harry pants above you, continuing to shove his cock deep into you. With the pitiful look still spread across your face, you feverishly nod your head yes. “And if you scream loud enough, I might let you cum.” He offers, loosening his tight grip on your throat. And once he does this, you’re screaming. You’re going on and on about how good he feels and how you can feel his cock all the way in the pit of your stomach.

“Please Harry!” You loudly cry out to him, feeling your body become warmer and number with every thrust. 

“Wanna cum?” Harry grunts, beginning to slow his thrusts down to more staggered and sharp ones since his own release was fast approaching.

“Need to.” You whimper, feeling your strength to hold back dwindling by the second. But luckily for you, Harry manages to send three final thrusts into you that send you both right over into your releases. The both of you can feel each other contracting and convulsing with every spurt of your orgasms.

 The both of you were beyond and completely out of it by the end of your earth shattering releases. And despite all of the numbness and soreness that was coming your way, every last second was worth it.

Masterlist

[rogerdvies]

yes riktor. yes @ the lovely and fluffy but as a lover of angst, ofc i have to (and bc u mentioned teehee); what if they broke up? how would it happen? would it be totally unexpected - it just came up in a fight - or would it be a build up of unreleased emotions? tbh, im just giving you permission to break my heart and tear it apart.

@delacouvr. honey, you are such an enabler of my riktor addiction and i love you for it. i actually have four headcanons for their breakup but i chose one for the sake that my headcanons are ridiculously long. 

– – – – – he couldn’t handle it anymore. they only ever spoke over letters, and those were becoming less and less frequent (your fault, ronald, why can’t you be more interesting?). silence stretched between them the same length as the miles separating them (your fault, ronald, he’s trying so hard to make it work and you’re giving up). words couldn’t be conjured up in reply to the kindest of remarks, soft curiosities, pleading inquiries for a return of affection (he loves you, so sweet, opening up to you, making himself vulnerable, and you can’t even tell him the truth; your love for him is fading).

it’s a combination of needing physical proximity for reassurance and his own insecurities that got the better of him in the end. 

– – – – – it was tearing him apart inside. his letters back were becoming less and less frequent, brief, disinterested (too daft for him aren’t you, dumb krum?). it’s a slow deterioration, as if watching someone peel off his scab millimeter by millimeter, watching the blood well up droplet by droplet, while trying to will it to stop with his mind (you don’t deserve him, krum, he’s trying to let you off easy and you’re making it harder for him; just let go). bittersweet torture without the sweet, ribcage cracked open and heart laid bare in a desperate attempt to rekindle something in the other (how pathetic, he probably regrets every moment with you).

it’s a combination of jealousy and frustration that were his downfall.

the constant second-guessing them (ronald), always wondering if he was doing something wrong (viktor), fingers empty left longing for a body to hold (weasley), clawing tooth and nail just to get an answer out of the other (krum). 

then came the rupture; the smell of lavender is only calming if one isn’t allergic to it. a photograph sent anonymously, no explanation necessary. a single photograph, evidence of a moment caught in time, witnessed by eyes not meant to see, catalyst – cause of the sudden implosion of the beating organ in viktor krum’s chest. 

apparently there were many things ronald weasley had neglected to share with him. a rise to quidditch fame at hogwarts as a phenomenal keeper. a rift opening up between himself and a friend. – – and a kiss with a girl whose eyelashes fluttered shut at the contact. 

anger simmered through his veins, setting his body ablaze as he watched his world burn down around him, asphyxiating on the smoke of his own corpse. the photograph was enough to set in stone what he had been fighting against: ronald weasley was done with him. ronald weasley was done with him, and he didn’t even have the courage to be honest with viktor.

he doesn’t make it public. one of his teammates urges him to – the world knows about krum’s relationship with the youngest weasley boy, believes them to be happy. krum could create a scandal – destroy the ginger’s reputation. revenge, for a broken heart. 

but he couldn’t. he would never do that to ronald – would not hurt him on purpose. perhaps he had done something to drive the youngest weasley boy away (lacking wit, feeble intelligence, boring, inaccessible, not good enough). yet that did not excuse ronald’s actions. 

yet he couldn’t bring himself to write to ronald about it. couldn’t inquire about the photograph, couldn’t ask for an explanation. wouldn’t take his anger out on the other. he didn’t want to know the truth just yet. he just needed… to think.

however, whoever had sent him the photograph had made it their job to bring the scandal to light. when the papers published and rita skeeter came knocking at durmstrang’s doors, krum refused to answer her questions. when she insisted (stubborn woman), and gained entrance to his attention, his sole response was that the matter was private between him and ronald. when pushed, a growl that she had no right to stick her nose in his and ronald’s business was his answer. his statement read that he refused to talk poorly of ronald weasley, despite being aware of the photograph (he had been impassive when she’d flashed it at him, her quill had taken note).

hermione’s letter comes not long after the article is published. a quiet thank-you for refusing to hurt her friend, and an apology. for something she had known about. something she could have stopped. should have told him about. his letter back is kind, bearing no ill-will, but short and polite. formal. still viktor refuses to write to ronald. keeps the sudden influx of letters that ronald sends unopened in his desk. 

more articles are published, depicting viktor krum as a victim, as a broken-hearted boy, as an unknowing party. painting ronald weasley as a fame-chaser, a user, a cheater. viktor knows differently (or thinks he does), and his response to these claims are, once again, it is a private matter between the two boys. when they press and ask if viktor had spoken to ronald since the news of him cheating had been made public, viktor does not answer. they have all the answer they need.

harry’s letter comes next. it’s awkwardly written – they weren’t close, not hardly, but it’s an outstretched hand. unlike hermione’s it is not a plead for forgiveness, nor an appeal to his conscious – it is an appeal to tie loose ends and put both parties out of their misery. viktor krum wishes he could forget about ronald weasley and his friends. 

a letter is his reply – – – but not to harry. ronald receives it exactly three months after the ordeal. it’s short, barely three sentences long, inquiring that they speak later through floo network. the conversation begins awkward, ronald’s quiet greeting returned coldly as dark eyes stare up from the fire.

ronald weasley learns five things during that conversation: that a heartbroken, furious bulgarian with a thick accent is nearly impossible to understand – but he gets the jist of it. that viktor krum had loved him deeply – even with the distance – and would have done anything he needed to in the attempt to make them work. that viktor would have done anything to make him happy. that viktor krum would never hurt him on purpose, despite his temper. and that he had fucked something that could have been good up. 

viktor krum learned three things: that ronald weasley didn’t know what he wanted anymore – which meant that he did not want him. that ronald weasley had never wanted to hurt him – had never meant to – but hadn’t known how to handle his shifting emotions (misguided intentions did not make the pain hurt any less). that ronald weasley had cheated on him, had known exactly what he was doing, and had done it anyways. 

ronald’s apology was met with the shake of a head (unforgiven, weasley, you don’t deserve forgiveness for tearing up the heart of a man who had stayed loyal to you) and sharp, tired words: if he did not want to be in a relationship with viktor anymore, he should have told him. 

nothing left to salvage when you’ve burnt down the kingdom is there, ronald? 

the article published the next monday detailed the truth: bulgarian seeker viktor krum single again after boyfriend cheated. he still refused to speak to the press, refused to drag ronald’s name through the mud regardless of what he had done. he was not that kind of person. their private matters were private. 

ronald’s responding interview stated that he had made a mistake, but he and viktor had talked it out and had come to a mutual agreement. mutual agreement. those words brought glacial ice to freeze the fires (he had no voice in the matter, yet another lie from the weasley, however small in the attempt to save face), and viktor krum found that even though he still cared immensely, still hurt deeply – – – he didn’t care. he wanted to be done with it. 

he did not answer the letter that lavender brown wrote to him a while later when she felt wronged by ronald’s sudden break-up “to be with hermione”. the news brought fresh pain, but he kept it inside. he was done. 

emotions would fade one day, and the press would find something else juicy to pick at sooner or later.