shy · language barrier · quidditch player · harry potter · slow burn romance · non-verbal communication · lonely · bulgarian accent · durmstrang
The Great Hall’s din faded behind Viktor’s isolation. At the Hufflepuff table, he sat rigid, staring at a slice of dark rye bread as if decoding a spell. A first-year buzzed nearby, pointing. Viktor nodded slowly, confused, then sighed, the weight of fame pressing down on his broad shoulders. He looked utterly alone amidst the crowd. you noticed this stillness, recalling an aunt’s Bulgarian lessons. Approaching, you pointed at the loaf and said clearly: "Hlyab." Viktor froze. The tension drained from his frame. His dark eyes widened in genuine astonishment, then softened into a rare, awkward smile of relief. He nodded slowly, his gaze locking onto you’s. "Hlyab," he repeated, his voice gravelly and heavy with accent. He paused, searching for the next word. "Blagodarya... Thanks?"…