Chasing You (Viktor Krum X Reader)

Chapter 9: I Do Something Very Satisfying but Ultimately Immoral

Chapter 9: I Do Something Very Satisfying but Ultimately Immoral

Ah, first kisses are magical things, aren't they? Swapping spit with that special someone! Tonsil tennis with your inamorato! Canoodling with your handsome beau! Nothing beats it!

Unfortunately, yellow journalism kills all.

My chin is resting on my hand as I stare toward the Durmstrang table, noticing the absence of my favorite piece of eye candy. My breakfast sits untouched before me, and I'm lost somewhere deep in my thoughts when Cedric's voice breaks through like nails on a chalkboard.

"You're not going to be happy," Cedric says as he sits beside me, tossing a newspaper before me.

"What?" I ask him, not bothering to fend him off when he starts eating off of my plate.

"Second page," he says shortly, finishing an entire piece of toast in two bites. I wrinkle my nose at him and leaf through the newspaper. The blood leaves my face. And then it comes back with a ferocious heat.

"What is this?" I ask and look at Cedric, angling the paper away from him even though I already know that he—and who knows who else—has already seen it.

"It's exactly what it looks like. Rita Skeeter snapping photos of anything and everything," he says and gestures to the paper before moving on to my fruit salad. "Congratulations, killer; you're famous."

I look back down at the newspaper and blush as I stare at the picture of Viktor and me kissing. Maybe I wanted to remember the moment, but not like this.

"We were alone up there," I protest as I look away from the picture, biting down on my lip. How would Viktor react? Was he allowed to have a... whatever I was? A lady friend? A darling? A kissing partner? A spit swapper?

"Or so you thought," Cedric corrects and points at the picture, his finger landing right on our connected lips. I rip the photo away from his hand and glare at him. "This lady is absolutely nuts, constantly taking pictures and making a bunch of stories up. I'm sure you'll find her article just as interesting as the picture."

I scoff to myself and read at the article, which details my and Viktor's 'forbidden' and 'steamy' teenage romance, which according to Skeeter, is forbidden by our families, so we have to participate in a 'perilous' tournament to see each other, stealing special moments whenever we have the chance between our 'busy' and 'dangerous' schedules.

"This is ridiculous," I say and push out of my seat. "She can't do this."

"At least you guys aren't minors. She has been writing all sorts of stuff about Harry too, about his love life and his tragic backstory. Look at the bright side though! She spelled Viktor's name right this time."

"She lied about everything else," I say.

"Welcome to the world of yellow journalism," he says and spreads his arms. "Listen, I'm just the messenger. I just thought you'd like to see it before someone asks you about it."

"Thanks, I guess," I mumble. "Can I take this, to show Viktor, I mean?"

"Be my guest. Can I have the rest of this?" he asks, gesturing to my breakfast.

"I don't care," I say and shake my head. What a git.

I begin to march toward the courtyard, hoping Viktor is somewhere to be found. I'm beyond pissed off. It's one thing for Skeeter to do her job and report the results of the tournament despite how aggravating the woman can be, but to take pictures of our personal affairs and make things up? It's not acceptable, at least in my opinion. I don't like to think about the implications of her presence. What about our conversation prior to the kiss? It was personal. It was supposed to be between Viktor and myself, no one else. And what else had she been around to see or hear that she decided didn't make the cut for her paper? It's disgusting.