gimme fuel, gimme fire [calliope]

[vladislav k. krum]

The fates handed Vladislav a decent hand. He was lucky to be born the person he was, and he was well aware of it. There was the significant fact that he was the son of internationally recognized Quidditch star Viktor Krum and his beautiful and talented wife. Not to mention that the Krum bloodline was pure – all wizards and witches, at least in his own branch of the family tree. The Krums were well-off as it was, but Viktor and Nadia supplemented their existing assets with endorsement money and a share of the Minkov inheritance, respectively. Vladislav may not be the type to put a lot of value into birthright, riches, fame, or blood status… But he would also be a fool to ignore the opportunities he was given, the doors that would otherwise be closed. And one such opportunity was not having to pay full-price for his drink.

The young Krum came into The Three Broomsticks with the appearance of someone who wandered in by mistake. Nonchalantly removing his fur cloak – something he’s had since his Durmstrang days – he sauntered over to the bar, smiling and nodding his head to the barmaid in greeting. Dropping gems such as “you’re looking as good as my father described” in an intentionally thick Bulgarian accent, Vladislav wore Madam Rosmerta out with his compliments and got a steady supply of heavily-discounted beers.

Vladislav gulped down his first drink quickly, and took the time between the last drink and the next to have a good look around who was here. Behind him, a myriad of excited-looking third- or fourth-years were chattering away loudly at their table. Further away still was another group of slightly older Hogwarts students, laughing but being generally non-distracting. Those closer to Vladislav’s age group were scattered around the premises, looking relieved, as he was, that the weekend was finally here. He didn’t recognize a majority of the patrons, but it seemed the bigger they were physically, the more quiet and dignified they acted.

His glass again heavy with beer, Krum turned away from the room, his mind instead on his own life. Vladislav has heard the phrase “act your age” a lot. He supposed this was what was meant – dignified, quiet, easy to handle behavior. Tired, almost. This wasn’t the lifestyle he preferred. Sure, as an adult, he had things to worry about, things to tire him out, make him mellow and boring. There was the matter of a certain part-veela and a certain part-veela son (that might actually be part-Krum). His NEWTs were coming up this year, and the teachers were laying down the pressure. Vladislav was never very good at wandwork, so while he could slack off in potions, his transfigurations and charms teachers only piled more and more practice onto his already overwhelming workload. Then, there was the draft, and all the stresses that came with it. Viktor Krum always said that he was proud of his son’s ability as a beater in press statements and public events, but privately made sure Vladislav knew that playing a beater was not nearly in the same league as playing a seeker. While most parents would be happy to have a child play at an international level, Vladislav suspected following in his father’s shoes exactly would be the only way to earn complete approval. On the up side of this issue, since the Bulgarian national team didn’t need a seeker, or even a seeker alternate, he would end up disappointing dear dad no matter what. And then, at the very end of the list of problems, was this girl he used to date that was just completely stuck in his head.

Drumming his fingers on the wooden bar, Vlad glanced around, again using the pause in drinking to people-watch. He was half-hoping to see some excitement today – a bar fight, maybe? But this wasn’t the Hog’s Head, he’d have to start the bar fight to see one. Where was that wretched conniving bastard traitor Bakalov when you needed him? Quickly sizing up the most likely candidates, Vladislav changed his mind. Tall, broad, and muscular, he felt twice the size of anyone else in the room. Besides, there was no point in starting trouble with some innocent guy just because he was bored.

But then, there were always other ways of releasing all of that energy, all of that built-up stress. Quidditch – but he was pretty sure the pitch was booked all day today. Mountain climbing? No, he wouldn’t get back to the castle on time even if he left now. A swim in the lake. But that hardly required effort, as he’d been swimming since he was four. He could go for a run around the castle grounds, if he didn’t have all this beer that would be sloshing around his stomach with every step. Vladislav made a mental note to himself to return to this subject later, gulping down his third beer and shaking his head to see if the room would keep momentum. It did not. Deciding that if things weren’t interesting, he’d work to make them that way, he ordered another round, hoping to get a safety buzz going.