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Luring Viktor Krum to sit next to him at Slytherin's table was all Draco Malfoy needed out of his fourth year at Hogwarts. Getting Viktor Krum's attention was a dream come true for him, not that he'd ever, ever phrase it that way. No, what he said to his best friends after the feast was:
"Crabbe, us purebloods need to stick together. There's few enough of us as is what with all the mudbloods and blood traitors about, swanning about like they own the place!"
And:
"Goyle, my father is friends with Professor Karkaroff, and Professor Karkaroff favours Viktor, as he should. It's only natural that the best pupils from the best schools should choose to associate."
And also:
"But did you see that move he pulled at the World Cup though?! I thought I was going to die and ascend to heaven then and there! Arrrgh! Gooosh!" Draco wheeled away from his mates across the dormitory they shared, his fists clenched tight, his eyes rolled back in his head, his entire figure an illustration of coolness derived ecstasy. An apotheosis induced from witnessing true Art. The memory of Viktor Krum pulling off the Wronski Feint always brought tears to his eyes.
Suffice to say, Draco was very keen to continue his association with the genius amongst them, even before Viktor was named champion on top of all his other merits. However, because Viktor was both older and grander than himself, he approached humbly, offering to show him and his friend around the place, commanding Crabbe and Goyle not to do anything which might embarrass him in front of the older boys.
"We know how to get into the kitchens if you're ever after a late night snack. Or a drink." He said, flashing his pale eyebrows at the pair of fur clad Durmstrangers where they stood on the lawn outside the castle's front entrance. He mentioned drink because he thought the other boys, being eighteen and older, would be into that. To be honest, he was also into that, but hadn't the nerve to swipe the required beverages.
Viktor and his constant companion, Yuri, exchanged looks. Smirks developed on their faces to accompany the silent eye contact, and Draco knew he was in, at least for now. Sometimes he and Crabbe and Goyle would communicate like that, and it absolutely heralded good times. He wished it happened more often.
Having exchanged an entire gunpowder-esque plot with his mate via a mere glance, Viktor turned back to the Slytherins. "Okay. We vill let you know vhen. Watch out for a sign." he said, before exchanging another glance with his pal and stomping off with him, heavy furs making the pair seem even larger, older, and cooler than they already did.
"Gosh, they're so cool. Why didn't Father send me to Durmstrang, arg!" muttered Draco absently, his eyes trailing after the foreigners. "I mean, uh, of course they have the good sense to take advantage of my connections. Unlike the dunderheads at this rat's nest of a school. Clearly only Durmstrang is good enough for me." He was so enamoured with the badassery stomping around the grounds that he temporarily completely forgot about purebloods, mudbloods, Slytherin and Gryffindor, money and class, Harry Potter and Voldemort, freeing him to be a normal boy.
Meanwhile, Crabbe and Goyle nodded along dully.
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It wasn't long before Viktor Krum once again displayed his more than ordinary good sense in the most Slav way possible. One evening, down in the Slytherin common room, Draco was lying on his bed, reading a letter from home, when a knock sounded on the window beside his bed. A window looking out on the lake. Assuming it was the squid attempting to attract his attention so he would go out and toss it an apple, Draco ignored it, too caught up in what his mother was saying via the medium of the written word. But the knock came again, more insistent this time.
"Okay, okay. I'm-"
But when Draco leant over to look out the window, he came fact to face not with a giant squid eye, but the floating form of an international quidditch star. Using no equipment or spell to enable him to swim around underwater, Viktor was merely holding his breath, his t-shirt and shorts floating serenely as he himself did amongst the kelp.
"Merlin's beard…he knows where I live. He asked around." Draco whispered with awe, his eyes unhelpfully filling with tears of joy which he brushed away violently.
Seeing that he'd got the boy's attention, Viktor pointed up and then held his right hand up and open, flashing five fingers, balling it into a fist, then flashing five fingers again. Body language is universal, and Draco was not stupid. He knew that meant 'meet me on land in ten minutes', so he nodded, rapidly. Message relayed successfully, Viktor kicked off the heavy duty glass, and vanished back into the dark green of the watery abyss. For a moment Draco simply stared at the Krumless space, then his eyes widened hugely, his mouth forming an 'o'.
"Oh, crap." Lying on the edge of his bed, he dropped his blond head down almost to the stone floor. His pale eyes, upside down now, took in the massed ranks of Viktor Krum statues posing for each other in the darkness under his bed. Thank goodness, they were all still there, and there was no way the real Krum could have spotted them through the window.
"Oh my gosh," hurriedly making sure he wasn't about to embarrass himself and his entire bloodline, Draco checked himself out in a full length mirror. "I can't wait to turn eighteen. Father says he'll buy me a thestral carriage with my initials on it." he ran out the room, exclaiming over all the cool things his dad would buy him for his eighteenth birthday.
'On land slash shore' could be anywhere, but Draco deduced that Viktor probably meant the shore closest to the ship he lived in, so that's where Draco headed, and indeed, Viktor was standing there, eyes scanning for his noxious fan club, a fan club who seemed to possesses preternatural senses when it came to knowing where he was and what he was doing. If they arrived he'd retreat back to his ship or surround himself with his friends and cohorts.
Clearing his throat before entering hearing range of the celebrity, Draco attempted to say something cool, but sadly for him he was fourteen, and on top of that his voice was in the process of breaking. "Viktor. Grand evening, isn't it?" he said, voice cracking on 'Vik', lighting a furnace in his cheeks.
However, Viktor was extremely classy and patrician, as a pureblood should be, and gave no hint that he noticed things which had likewise embarrassed him when he was Draco's age. "It is. Grand enough for a drink."
All Draco needed to do was explain how to get into and out of the kitchens, and the Durmstrangers took care of the rest. A group of buzzcut sporting boys, including Viktor, orchestrated a military operation for acquiring alcohol and snacks and enjoying them in the woods on the shore near the ship.
"Aren't you going to get in trouble if you're caught participating?" Draco asked Viktor when the latter had given the order to move out.
"I cannot get into trouble," Viktor replied, with a brief bittersweet smile. "Now, if your two friends can be trusted, you and them are welcome to join us in de woods."
So Draco jogged back to the castle with a wide grin on his face, a grin most people who saw it put down to its owner having successfully bullied someone in some extra nasty way.
If it were possible, Crabbe and Goyle were even more excited than their fearless leader was to be hanging out with a celebrity and his equally awesome comrades, and drank quietly and too fast, so fast that a Durmstranger now and then kindly recommended they slow down, handing them some non alcoholic replacement, which they drank with just as much gratitude and gusto as the real stuff. Talk bounced around the magically shielded clearing the group of boys used as their hideout, perfectly normal talk about school, family, friends, and fun. The tournament formed a part, of course, but not as large as part as might be supposed. The Durmstrangers regularly competed in dangerous tournaments, this was simply the rarest one. The topic of birthdays eventually came up.
"His is on the fifth." said Goyle, indicating Draco.
"Fifth of this month?" asked Viktor, over a goblet of brandy. The drink was making him less closed off, but not remarkably so. Just enough to reveal the real person beneath the gloriously grumpy shell.
"Yeah." said Draco, flushing slightly when his mind compared his soon to be cool age of fifteen, with his idol's much more cool age.
But at his answer, Viktor shot another look at his best mate, standing beside him. Unlike the rest of the Durmstrangers gathered round for fun and hijinks, the latter did not sport cropped hair, nor was he wearing the same uniform, but a richer, darker variant. He replied to the superstar with a loaded look of his own, and then the pair smirked. Once they did, the rest of their companions followed suit and began elbowing each other and rough housing, boyish laughter filling the clearing.
"We should do something with dat. Have a bit of a…house party." said Viktor to Draco, mischievously.
"I happen to know that our headmaster will be visiting Hogsmeade that evening, and probably will be staying over there." said Yuri, before he downed a shot of vodka and held the glass out to be refilled, which it was, swiftly.
His heart thumping wildly with excitement, Draco barely noticed Crabbe handing him a glass of butterbeer. "How do you know?"
"Yuri is Karkaroff's aide. He knows." said Viktor authoritatively.
So Draco returned to the castle on cloud nine, beginning his letter home with the words:
'Mum! Dad! The Viktor Krum is throwing me a birthday party!'
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The fifth of June duly arrived, along with another elite squad of Durmstrangers as soon as the sun began to dip towards the horizon. This time Yuri himself accompanied those of his pupils who would be relieving the ever so helpful, ever so generous house elves of Hogwarts of their champagne and other party necessities. Draco, busy standing watch, discovered the true meaning of 'buoyant' when he dared to flash his eyebrows at the young man and received an answering flash back. Rushing back to his common room, he immediately imitated the other school by lining his own comrades up within their dorm to inspect their party readiness.
"You need a bath." he said to Goyle, that being all he could discover wrong with him. He said the same to Crabbe, just to make sure he had all his bases covered.
With that sorted, the trio assisted each other to dress as casually cool as it is possible for a group of fourteen and fifteen year old boarding school pupils to dress, and took off on a 'mission' to the fantastic old ship floating on the lake, laughing and rough housing all the way, passers-by imagining they were off to make some poor first year's life hell.
How do you climb onboard a sailing ship, or any ship? With a plank. A plank it is possible to fall off unless you're a muggle and surround it with high railings. At first his heart quailed within his chest at seeing the danger of embarrassing himself, but Draco rallied, gathering strength from the humongous cloud of coolness and fraternity surrounding him. Leaving the safety of the shore, he nimbly ascended the movable bridge to the top of the Durmstrang galleon, even sparing a moment to look up at the vast sails, especially the central one with its imperial double headed eagle. Upon him making it safely to the deck, Viktor and company cheered and slapped his back, as they did likewise for Crabbe and Goyle, who also managed to make it up and across without catastrophe, although, to be fair, in all three's case success was probably owed to a lack of pre-party drinks.
"Happy birthday, Draco." Viktor said in his charming accent, clashing champagne flutes with his Hogwarts friend when the entirety of his group, aside from the absent headmaster, were sufficiently liquored up and safely undercover within the bowels of the ship. Around the pair, boys and girls were making merry, singing and dancing strange athletic dances to strange jovial music, ballroom dancing across a six hundred year old deck. Crabbe and Goyle were finding themselves popular, asking and being asked to dance by the few hard faced female pupils Karkaroff brought with him.
"Thank you, Viktor. My father always praised Durmstrang. He will be glad to know it has well exceeded my expectations." said Draco, puffing himself up in an attempt to approach Krum's height.
To his words, Viktor arched a thick eyebrow, but said nothing, turning to look around the torch lit main sleeping area of the ship, where hammocks were slung. People sat around on the chests and other furniture pieces stuck fast to the floor, enjoying conversation lubricated by happy juice. Culture clash? There are no culture clashes where there is alcohol and a couple shared traditions, such as the pureblood house party.
Draco thought he could not be made happier, but two more pleasant surprises were lying in wait for him. Three in fact. First, Viktor gave him what would become a prized possession - a Durmstrang jumper such as he himself wore, complete with eagle. Second, a pretty Durmstrang girl asked him to dance. Third, Karkaroff returned unexpectedly. Why was the latter a pleasant surprise? Because it meant the tipsy youth began scrambling, following the plan they'd come up with in case of just such an event. While Yuri went to greet (read: delay) his boss, the others cleaned up evidence, and Viktor, Draco, Crabbe and Goyle ran downstairs, to the lower decks, where there were unconventional exits.
"Leap out de porthole!" Viktor hissed.
"I'll drown!"
"No, I'll jump too!"
So all four boys climbed out of the portholes, crashing into the water lying only a few feet below the windows. Swimming while intoxicated is a foolproof recipe for disaster, but the shore was near, and Viktor Krum was Viktor Krum. When Goyle began to drown, Draco pulled him back to the surface, and when Draco began to drown in turn, Viktor pulled both him, Goyle, and Crabbe to shore.
"Karkaroff cannot say shit so long as you are not onboard his ship." laughed Viktor, drenched but not shivering. "Well, he can and vill say shit, but to no effect."
Above him the moon shoved aside a cloud to show it's full face, casting him in silhouette. Lying on the ground, the three panting Slytherins grinned happily, the evening's adventures engraving themselves deeply into their minds, especially Draco's. Especially Draco's. The Dark Lord was against such innocent fun and comradery, such innocent human happiness, he would very soon come to realise that.