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deripmaver · 7 years

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Victuuri at the Battle of Hogwarts, part 2 (Rating: M)

The world became a clanging cacophony as soon as they left the corridor. It was as though they’d stepped through a stage curtain and suddenly, there was the audience - but instead of cheering came the shriek of battle, the clanging of spells against every surface.

Yuuri grit his teeth, linking his hand with Phichit’s for comfort, and steeled himself for whatever awaited them in the great hall.

A quick scan of the surroundings yielded chaos - Yuuri could barely pick out bodies among the swarm of black and blue and red and gold, the lights spurting up like fireworks into the cavernous hall.

His heart swelled as he saw Chris, an older friend of his from Ravenclaw, still sensual even in the way he sent colors flying from his wand. And there was Leo, gasping as he lead a limping Guang Hong away from the fray, blood as red as the Gryffindor robes he wore dripping from his lip.

Even JJ, a boisterous Slytherin who had lead a well-meaning, if idiotic, attempt to reconcile between Death Eaters and muggleborns before everything got too bad, had apparently picked a side - and Yuuri couldn’t help the spark of fondness as he saw JJ’s hands shake as he shot a non-verbal stunning spell at a mass of cloaked black.

Yuuri and Phichit ducked just in time to avoid an evil flash of green, then dodged the resulting debris as stone crumbled to dust above them. Yuuri snarled at the black-clad figures coming towards them and ran his thumb along his wand - the sweet cherry wood that formed its length, the dragon heartstring pulsing in time with his own.

“Stupefy!” he shouted, eyes flashing in determination as a spurt of red light knocked one Death Eater back.

“Expelliarmus!” Phichit shrieked, and another flash of red made a second’s wand go flying. Yuuri finished that one off with gritted teeth and a stunning spell that cracked louder than a thunderbolt in his ears.

Twin red lights, twin stunning spells, hit the third, and Yuuri’s heart jolted in his chest as he caught the flash of emerald green underneath the black cloak - slytherin robes. He wanted to unmask that Death Eater, wanted to shake them until their eyes rattled, and shout, did you know me?

I was your housemate, did you watch me grow for seven years and want me dead the entire time, just because of some dumb blood purity rules?

Yuuri had made friends in his house, despite its reputation. The fact that he’d been sorted into Slytherin had been a shock, though as a wide-eyed eleven year old he couldn’t have known that much less understood why. He loved his house, loved former slytherin Professor Cialdini who always took time to make sure Yuuri understood not just the mechanics of magic but the intricacies of the strange new world he’d found himself in - a world that wasn’t always kind to people like him.

He loved it, but that hadn’t stopped his heart from aching when he was told they’d made mudblood the new common room password, no matter how harshly Professor Cialdini had disciplined the then head boy and girl for going above his head and changing it.

And that hadn’t stopped his dorm-mate of six years from selling out his family’s location to the Death Eaters, forcing them to go into hiding and Yuuri to barely escape with his life and his wand, confining him to a year on the run, not sure who to trust or where to go.

“Stupefy!”

The Great Hall was lit up like Christmas, red and green lights from disarming and stunning and killing. Phichit moved with such grace as he twirled right into the thick of it, Yuuri following with a shield charm that protected his friend as he sent out spell after spell.

They’d attracted a cluster of Death Eaters - Yuuri’s was a familiar face on wanted posters throughout Wizarding Britain, his anti-state propaganda decried in the Daily Prophet in numerous scathing articles about his filthy blood, the supposed love potion he’d slipped Durmstrang’s Darling to make him join the resistance.

Some had skull masks, others proudly kept their faces uncovered. Yuuri didn’t look at them - he didn’t want to see his classmates poised to kill him. He didn’t want to think about Viktor, the way they’d dragged his name through the mud, targeted his friends and family because they knew it would hurt Yuuri more than any personal insult could.

Beyond the Death Eaters was a bright red flash of robes, and for a moment in the delirium Yuuri imagined a shock of silver hair and piercing blue eyes - only to freeze at the grizzled old face and bald head.

Yakov?

Yuuri’s heart stuttered and he struggled to keep the shield up against the onslaught of spells. Yakov caught his eye and turned to him, striking terror deep into Yuuri as he raised his arm.

He’d need to re-do the shield charm which was rapidly weakening, he’d need to protect Phichit-

A bright red light, and Yuuri almost shrieked. He couldn’t do nonverbal spells, he couldn’t move fast enough, he was helpless-

The light slid past his ear. There was an agonized howl, and Yuuri swung around in terror to find a Death Eater crumpling behind him, green sparks from an unfinished spell fizzling out at the tip of his wand.

Another pop of red robes, then a third, then a fourth - and the cluster of Death Eaters surrounding them turned, only to be stunned by four jets of brilliant scarlet light and a resounding cry of Stupefy from the group.

“Wow, Yuuri,” Phichit breathed, “I thought they hated you.”

Yuuri barely had time to think before it was over. The gaggle of enemies that they’d been fighting were all out cold on the ground, and Yakov Feltsman was striding towards Yuuri with a determined glare in his eye.

Somehow, that was even more terrifying. Yuuri kept his wand up, ready to strike if need be.

Yakov stopped short right in front of Yuuri, took a deep breath, and said, “I’m sorry for how I treated you, before.”

Yuuri didn’t speak. His eyes widened, but he didn’t put the wand down.

“I’m sorry,” Yakov continued, with obvious effort. “For questioning your integrity, both as a wizard and as a person. And I’m not saying this just because of how happy you’ve made Vitya - I’m saying this because you’re a great wizard in your own right, no matter your blood status. I should’ve realized that sooner.”

Then, without missing a beat, he deflected a stunning spell just before it connected with Yuuri’s skull. Yuuri yelped and flinched away.

“I’m sorry too,” piped up a witch with a shock of red hair - Mila, Yuuri remembered, stomach churning as he remembered her nasty looks. “And so’s this little kitten.”

Yuri, whose barbed tongue would have hurt far worse if he hadn’t been eleven when Yuuri met him during the Triwizard Tournament, scowled up at Mila. He nodded, though, and shot a sheepish look in Yuuri’s direction.

“Good,” Yuuri spluttered out, unable to quash his petty vindication. “Because we’re getting married. As soon as this is over.”

Yakov didn’t say anything for a moment. He didn’t even snort and exclaim, you’re eighteen, he’s twenty-one - you’re far too young to be getting married.

“Vitya disappeared just before his birthday,” Yakov said, slowly, finally, “To fight against You-Know-Who, we figured out. We found a collection of your columns, some bewitched recorders that played back what you said on air about the resistance. We didn’t approve of what they were doing to muggleborns before, but… You convinced us to fight, officially. I’m happy for you both.”

Yuuri didn’t know what to say. A lump formed in his throat, and he took a deep, shaky breath - then he hugged Yakov. Yakov made a noise of deep, deep surprise, and his body stiffened for an instant. He relaxed into it though, his hand patting Yuuri on the back tentatively.

“Do we really have time for this?” Phichit protested. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you but-”

As if on cue, there was a loud crack, an explosion of color and sound that Yakov and Yuuri barely managed to deflect before they were hit.

“Oh, you fucking bastard,” Yuri snapped, “Stupefy! Beka, come with me!” Phichit moved to follow them, but Yuri turned to him, lip curling in contempt. “Stay here - you’ll slow us down”

Phichit glared, not quite forgiving their slights against Yuuri so easily, and snapped, “How about we see whether Durmstrang or Hogwarts teaches its fifth years better?”

Yuri looked skeptical.

Phichit, red-faced, grabbed him by the lapel and shouted, “What, afraid a half-blood might be better than you?”

Yuri blinked, then he snorted, no malice in his expression. “I’m a half-blood too,�� he muttered. He shook Phichit free and said, “You better keep up.”

Phichit ran after him, red light spinning from his wand like ribbons and hitting Death Eaters in the chest, the face, the legs.

“Levicorpus!” Phichit shouted, and there as a wail as a black-cloaked figure flew into the air, suspended by the ankles. Yuri ran up to him and punched him in the face, repeatedly.

“Ooh, that looks fun,” Mila giggled, winking in Yuuri’s direction.

Graceful as a gazelle, she leapt over a tumbled tower, and spat out, “Incendio!”

Fire, white hot and terrifying, fanned out in an arc from her wand. There were yelps, shouts of pain as the Death Eaters scrambled to escape the ring of fire.

A warm wind from the flames rustled Yuuri’s hair, and he blinked at the heat on his cheeks. Yakov nodded at him, and Yuuri understood immediately - the two of them stood back to back, surrounded by a crescent of black cloaked figures.

“Stupefy!” Yuuri shouted, recognizing the familiar flash of red from Yakov’s wand, as well.

“Protego!” Yuuri cried as a barrage of red descended on him at once. He stumbled back at the force of multiple spells at once, and Yakov reached a hand back to steady him as they moved in circles.

“Avada Kedavra!”

In a split second, Yuuri reacted, tackling Yakov to the ground just in time to miss the killing curse. It hit a death eater across the way, and Yuuri’s stomach lurched at the way she collapsed to the ground, crumpling like a broken table.

“You idiot,” a Death Eater snapped. “Once we’re over, the Dark Lord will-”

Red light hit him, square in the chest, and he gripped at it like it had stopped as he fell back.

Yuuri grinned at Yakov, who nodded back at him, and Yuuri raised his wand as something flew from midair-

Everything was dark.

Yuuri froze. His hands reached out, but Yuuri couldn’t see them through the thick black. From somewhere around him, he heard Yakov snarl, “Peruvian instant darkness powder.”

“Lumos,” Yuuri cried out, though he couldn’t see his wand in his hand, couldn’t see anything. “Lumos!” he cried again.

An ear-shattering crack resounded from right behind him, and the next thing Yuuri knew, he was flying through the air - outside the circle of darkness powder, in an arc above the Death Eaters-

His head hit the wall, and everything went black.

It could have been moments, it could have been longer, but Yuuri came to with a splitting headache and an agonized groan. Everything was blurry, and a fumbling hand pressed to his face revealed he’d lost his glasses. There was bright red in front of him, a slim figure with blonde hair and a stocky silver haired man.

“Viktor,” Yuuri mumbled under his breath, patting around him for his glasses. His wand, too, where was his wand? Without his glasses, he had no hope of finding his wand, but without his wand, his glasses were as good as gone.

His heart hurt as he lay there on the ground, head throbbing angrily and a wet trickle of blood dripping from his hairline. He knew that wasn’t Viktor - it had only been his muddled, pounding head wishing for someone who Yuuri had no idea if he was even still alive.

Yakov and Yuri fought frantically in front of him, while Yuuri pat around for his glasses.

Another shriek of a spell, and Yakov stumbled away, hit. Yuuri heard Yuri’s voice, high-pitched and terrified, and in his split-second hesitation he’d been separated away, fighting desperately as two Death Eaters closed in around Yuuri.

Where was his wand?

Yuuri whimpered, managing to bring himself up to his knees. The face above him was a blurry, grotesque skull.

“I read some of your pro-mudblood filth,” the Death Eater snarled. He brought his wand to Yuuri’s forehead, tapped it twice. Yuuri moaned in pain as another dull throb made the world around him fade at the edges. “I can’t wait to split you in two and show everyone how dirty your blood really is.”

Where was his wand?

Then, Yuuri paused. The Death Eater breathed in, out, in, his rattling breaths sending waves of hot terror down Yuuri’s spine-

I’m a muggleborn. I lived the first eleven years of my life without a wand.

Yuuri tackled him.

The Death Eater hadn’t been expecting it, clearly, and he let out a girlish shriek as Yuuri pulled him down to the floor. It was so hard to see, everything was blurry, but Yuuri heard the clattering of a wand and a discharged spell fly off into the distance as the Death Eater dropped it in his shock.

Yuuri grabbed him, rolled him onto his back with surprising ease. There was little resistance, little to indicate that the Death Eater had even been in a physical fight in his life. Everything hurt, an awful throbbing agony, but Yuuri clenched his hand into a fist and punched.

With shaking hands, Yuuri pulled off that ugly mask to reveal the blurry face beneath it. He hit the fuzzy white skin again and again, not pausing when bright red bled into the whirl of indistinguishable color in front of his eyes.

The wand had fallen just out of reach, and Yuuri pressed his knee into the Death Eater’s chest to reach over and grab it-

“Crucio!”

Yuuri’s head split in two. Or, at least, it felt like it was splitting, a slow, agonizing burn as bits of skull chipped off and the flesh tore-

His body was on fire, hurting almost as bad as his head. Needles, stuck through his joints, his nails ripped off in bloody crescents, teeth pulled out from his gums. It was real, it must’ve been real, because Yuuri tasted blood on his tongue as he screamed.

The world convulsed around him, the black swirl in front of his eyes scrambling back to join a second just a few feet away. Splotches of red shook and quaked, trying to get closer to the edge of his vision but being unable to. Barriers of noise and noise and noise and pain.

“Sectumsempra!”

Suddenly, everything stopped. For just a moment, there was cool blackness, a warm wet trickle down his cheeks and chin, the stone floor soothing against his burning flesh. No sound, no light, no world.

Yuuri gasped, deep and shuddering, and rolled over onto his stomach.

“Accio, Yuuri’s glasses!”

A white hand held out his blue frames, and Yuuri quaked as he took them - or was the world around him still spinning?

Yuuri put the glasses on and blinked up to see-

“Viktor,” Yuuri breathed. Then, tears filled his eyes, blurring them all over again, and he wailed, “Viktor!”

Viktor helped Yuuri to his feet, pressing sweet kisses to his hands and the wet corners of his eyes.

When had he started crying?

There was a puffy burn scar on Viktor’s cheek, and some of his hair had been singed, but he was there, alive, so blessedly alive. His expression was terrifying - a deep, piercing fury that Yuuri had never seen before, and though Yuuri could feel the warmth of his skin the ice in his eyes could’ve frozen fiendfyre.

Yuuri turned, pressed so comfortably to Viktor’s side, and all the color drained from his face. The Death Eater who had been torturing him was staring, stock-still, blood spurting from a slice that had cut clean through his clothing to carve a deep X into his flesh.

“Viktor,” Yuuri breathed, “Did you-”

“Hush, my love,” Viktor murmured, kissing him on the nose. The look in his eyes made Yuuri’s heart jolt wildly in his chest, chilled to the bone in fear. “I’m here now. I’m here.” Then, he turned to the terrified Death Eater with his wand out. “Avada Kedav-”

“No!” Yuuri shrieked, cutting him off with a desperate kiss. “Viktor, no!”

Viktor’s eyes didn’t soften, his gaze didn’t waver. “He never should have done that to you.”

“I know,” Yuuri cried, voice cracking into a sob, “I know, but Vitya, please, I’m here. I’m here, and I’m okay. I’m alive. We’re both alive. Look at me, my darling, look at me.”

Viktor turned to him, finally, meeting his gaze so intently that Yuuri almost flinched back. He widened his eyes, took a deep, stuttering breath. All of the cold, bone-chilling fury seemed to melt out of him, and he shook as he brought his trembling hand up to Yuuri’s cheek, running his thumb along Yuuri’s pink lips.

“I,” he stammered, “I, oh my god, I almost-”

Yuuri kissed him, quick and deep, memorizing the shape of his lips and the taste of his mouth. “I’m alive,” he breathed into Viktor, and Viktor laughed with tears in his eyes. “And you’re alive, and I love you.”

“I love you too,” Viktor murmured back.

They pulled apart far too soon, but the threat of battle hadn’t left even though they were together. Viktor stared in contempt at the two Death Eaters, trembling as they watched him, and sent them both flying with non-verbal stunning spells in a brilliant flash of red light.

Time stood still, with Yuuri watching Viktor and Viktor watching him. Suddenly, the chaotic battle became ordered, every moving piece following a set path with only so many outcomes - and Yuuri found he could follow all of them. His spellwork was precise and cutting, flames to clear an area, stunning to stop a stray Death Eater from coming up from the side and surprising them.

There was Yakov, alive if a little bruised, sending out brilliant arcs of scarlet and green while Yuri shot quick bursts of stunning spells like machinegun fire. Phichit and Otabek and Mila, back to back to back, Phichit giggling as he shot the rubble at the cloaked figures around him, his wand a slingshot of deadly accuracy. Fire, beautiful and deadly, a triumphant arc that illuminated Mila’s bright red hair.

Chris, Leo, Guang Hong, JJ - and Professor Cialdini, eyes sparkling from across the hall, his big booming laugh resounding like thunder as they all pushed the Death Eaters back, back, back-

Purple, green, red, blue, gold. The hall was alight with spells like fireworks.

“Yuuri, you’ll write to me, won’t you?”

Green and silver, blue and silver, yellow and black, red and gold. Viktor’s face lit up in brilliant colors, shimmering off his silver hair, as fireworks signalled the last inter-school dinner before Durmstrang and Beauxbatons would depart back to their homelands. He looked nervous, so unlike him, and he fiddled with the end of his long braid.

“Of course,” Yuuri breathed, still wondering if he was caught in a beautiful dream. Viktor and him - beautiful, wonderful Viktor. Yuuri still had braces, for god’s sake. What did Viktor see in him?

“You are a talented wizard,” Viktor smiled, as if he could read Yuuri’s mind. “You doubt yourself, but you never let that stop you. Please, Yuuri, never stop surprising me.”

“I won’t,” Yuuri assured him, wondering what that meant. Behind him him, a grizzled old man wearing the Durmstrang red glared at him, and a mixture of nausea and determination churned in his gut. “Um, Viktor…”

“Yes, my Yuuri?” Viktor asked, eyes sparkling.

Yuuri kissed him, then, with the beautiful lights illuminating his face. Viktor made a noise of surprise before melting into the touch, his arms wrapped around Yuuri like the warmth of his winter cloak.

I have him, Yuuri thought, and no one will take him away from me.

The battle ended with a great cry that faded into a whisper.

A resounding chorus, echoing through the Great Hall from outside. “He’s dead,” they called, a chorus of voices. “He’s dead, he’s finally dead-”

In the aftermath of the battle, there was a terrible stillness. Where movement had been frantic before, now it was slow, sluggish. Those who had medical knowledge flitted about to shell-shocked fighters, patching up scars and healing the worst of magic-burns and convulsions.

Then, there was the task of seeing to the dead. Bodies, pulled out from under rubble. Even the mourning was quiet, the subtle sobs and grief-stricken muteness.

Someone attended to the burn on Viktor’s cheek, to Yuuri’s nose, which he hadn’t even realized was bleeding. His head throbbed, and Yuuri felt the strange need for an ibuprofin. He wondered if there was a magical equivalent.

Yuuri still hadn’t found his wand, but there was time. There was… There was all the time in the world, now. No frantic hiding, no quick disapparition to the middle of the forest, no manuscripts submitted under the cover of nightfall to people Yuuri had no idea if he could trust.

“What,” he thought out loud, “Do I want to do first? Now that it’s over?”

“Marry me,” Viktor said, automatically.

Yuuri pondered that. “But I want my family at the wedding, and they’re still in hiding.”

“Okay, so we get your family, and then we get married,” Viktor nodded sagely.

“What about Makkachin?” Yuuri fretted. “He’s supposed to be our ring bearer.”

Viktor burst out laughing, earning him a glare from the nurse spreading some foul-smelling ointment on Viktor’s face.

“Okay,” he agreed, “First your family, then we get Makka, then we get married.”

Yuuri felt Viktor stiffen from his position, resting his head on Viktor’s thigh. He blinked up to see a flurry of red approaching.

“Yakov,” Viktor said, stiffly.

“Vitya,” Yakov growled. “Yuuri.”

Yuuri smiled up at him. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he mumbled.

Viktor blinked at him in surprise. Yakov cleared his throat, a little sheepish.

“I figured I owed you an apology as well,” he sighed. “For… For doubting you. For not seeing Yuuri’s strengths.”

“Yakov saved me,” Yuuri mumbled, running his thumb over Viktor’s thigh.

Yakov rubbed the back of his neck. “Yuuri was a great help during the battle. You should’ve seen it - he’d lost his wand, and his glasses, but he tackled this massive Death Eater. Would’ve knocked him out cold, too, if there hadn’t been a second one behind him.”

The memory of the cruciatus curse flashed in Yuuri’s mind and he shuddered, full bodied.

Viktor’s hand gripped his shoulder, warm comfort in the drafty hall. Yuuri grabbed the hand, squeezed it.

“Well,” Viktor said, flatly. “I guess I’ll invite you to the wedding, then.”

Yakov laughed, a surprisingly soft sound. Viktor smiled at him, tentatively. It was a quiet sort of peace, and the couple watched Yakov as he walked back to his gaggle of Durmstrang kids. Yuri was flat on his back, snoring loud enough that they could hear it from their seat across the hall.

A house elf wandered towards them, carrying a steaming bowl of something. Yuuri blinked as the elf placed the bowl in front of him, and a familiar smell wafted up.

“Is this,” Yuuri breathed, “Is this…?”

“Katsudon,” the house elf squeaked, bowing low. Viktor smiled and handed the elf a coin, who took it with a grateful salute.

“Oh my god,” Yuuri moaned, eyes and mouth watering.

“Are you surprised?” Viktor asked, eyes twinkling like starlight.

Yuuri nodded, dumbly, and shifted positions to sit up. “I love you, Vitya,” he whispered, wiping away a sudden flood of tears from his eyes.

Viktor turned to him, and Yuuri saw his eyes were watering, too. He kissed Yuuri, holding up a piece of pork cutlet with chopsticks and bringing it to Yuuri’s lips. “I love you too, Yuuri,” he said, voice cracked.

They shared the katsudon by the twinkling starlight of the Great Hall ceiling.

#victuuri #yoi fic #yuuri katsuki #victor nikiforov #yoi hp au #my fic

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