Chasing You (Viktor Krum X Reader)

Chapter 34: I Compile a Few Epilogue-Worthy Vignettes

Chapter 33: I Compile a Few Epilogue-Worthy Vignettes

Something flips inside me during the game. The realization that quidditch, even at this new and unexplored level, can still be something I love. Can be an escape and a hobby and my first love. That it doesn't have to be unfriendly competition.

We win the game, narrowly. Just by a few points, but it doesn't matter. We all return to the ground in an excited huddle, and none of us can hold our infectious laughter inside. Giddiness pours out of us as we relive the game, chattering among ourselves about the highlights of the game. I don't even notice how different this interaction is—the way I'm participating in the conversation and the way the others are teasing me.

Not until Rae sidles up beside me, knocking her hip into mine. She says, "Good going, Sweets. That was much different from how you played at the tryout. Being a team player looks good on you."

I smile through a breathless chuckle, grabbing her arm when she makes to leave. "Wait," I say, trying to calm myself down. "Thank you. For everything. For getting me here."

"Thanks for proving me right about you," she says, brushing her short hair from her face. "I'll see you at practice tomorrow."

"You're not coming to celebrate with the rest of us?" I ask, looking back at my teammates, who are still working out the details of our victory celebration.

"Oh, nah," she says and waves a hand through the air. "Not really my scene. I love the guys, don't get me wrong, but it gets a little tedious after a while of listening to them talk about their guy stuff. I don't usually go anymore. Not in the mood to sulk over a mojito while Monty tries to take home the bartender in the background."

"Well, I'll sulk over a mojito with you if that changes anything. We can talk about girl stuff, like quidditch and books and whatever."

"Oh, yeah?" she asks, glancing up at me with a smirk on her face. "Fine, then. Maybe just this once for novelty's sake."

I grin as she joins the rest of my teammates, commandeering the operation to choose her favorite bar. At the same time, I watch as Cedric tries to negotiate his way onto the pitch with my family. He doesn't seem to make any good progress until Viktor comes to his aid and gets them past the security.

They're over to me in a heartbeat, collectively wrapping me in a hug and crying and complimenting the hell out of me. I thank them for coming and let them know I'll be home late, and then Dad cries into my hair as Nat kisses my cheeks over and over. Cedric hugs me tight enough to hurt before he leaves with my parents, and then Viktor is the only one left.

"You did amazing," he says.

"Thank you. And thank you for everything beforehand."

"Of course."

"I thought about the night of the Yule ball when I was playing. About how we played in the snow for the first time. It helped me. It distracted me from the crowd and made me feel like I was playing for fun."

Viktor smiles and pulls me to his chest. "I am glad. Do you want to come home with me?" he asks.

"I—No, I'm sorry. I was thinking I would go out with—"

"Of course," he says and pulls away, smiling at me. "Have fun with your team. Celebrate. I'll see you soon." He presses a kiss on my cheek. "You did very well tonight, love."

The team goes to a bar in Ireland, a little bar with glaring neon lights and a floor sticky with spilled drinks, but we have fun, chatting about the game and our families and everything in between. I try my first mojito and watch Monty pick up the bartender with a couple of charming smiles and sneaky flexes of his biceps.

I feel like a part of the team for the first time since my tryout, and the feeling is amazing.

I'm a Bat now.

***

The next morning, I wake up with a dry throat and a head full of good memories, although they present themselves as a throbbing headache. I call Viktor on the phone and tell him about everything, and we plan to meet up for dinner after our practices. Maybe I would have met him earlier, but I have a packed schedule.

I travel to a little muggle town not too far away from the apartment with a shred of paper in hand, searching for the right house. It's hard to find it without floo, but I manage to find 12 Privet Drive along the cookie-cutter houses lining the street.

When I knock on the door, an older man tries to turn me away, claiming that Harry Potter is not around, but then the boy darts past the man and gives me a hug, a good few inches taller than I remember him being previously.

"Harry," I say.

"Y/N, thank you for coming."

"Of course. Want to get some lunch with me? We've got a lot to discuss."

Harry and I go to a muggle diner and each greasy food while we finally, finally discuss everything that happened at the graveyard. It's not an easy conversation, but it's something, and it's much better than keeping it inside.

Afterward, I drop Harry back at his house with a few tickets to the upcoming Ballycastle Bats game, one for him and some extras in case he wants to bring some friends. And then I head to my next destination.

It's something Nat recommended, a muggle thing called therapy, where I go and speak with someone about my problems and they help me work through them by providing solutions and helping me understand why I feel the way I do. Nat scoured the country for a wizard therapist and found them to be few and far between, which explains a lot about the wizarding world, but she found one in London who agreed to meet with me. It's not always fun to be there, but it makes a difference, which is all I can ask for.

Quidditch gets better and better as I become closer to my teammates. We are a well-oiled machine by the time we play the game that determines whether we move on to the semifinals.

Although I've been better about my nerves before games, it's harder when they hold so much weight. The qualifying game for the semifinals is not just any game, so I make sure that I practice all of the exercises my therapist recommends to help with my flashbacks. I work on my breathing as I rise into the sky on my broom, clad in black, my hair blowing in the breeze. We huddle around the referee as she goes through the mandatory speech about good sportsmanship, and then one of the players from the opposite team clasps a hand around my arm.

"Good luck," he says, the Bulgarian accent thick and familiar.

"You too," I say and smile.

"Winner chooses dinner?" Viktor asks.

"Deal."

and that's all I have for you!! I have to be so honest with y'all, i struggled so hard to finish this one (sobbing). But we made it and I'm so excited to start posting the next one!!!!! See y'all over there!