Mixed Signals

If there was something Katya couldn’t understand, it was the enthusiasm most wizards had for Quidditch. In England, just like in Russia, the sport was so ingrained in their culture that it was even a subject taught at school. When she was at Koldovstoretz, she had never been good at keeping her body elevated off the ground and would often get dizzy easily, so the mere thought of playing a sport in the air didn’t appeal to her. The same couldn’t be said for her best friend, Nikita Godunov, who had travelled to England with his husband solely to witness the Quidditch World Cup being held in Devon, England.

Nikita and his husband, Emil, had both been Quidditch players during their time at Koldovstoretz and made it a point to attend tournaments whenever they could. With an apartment in England and Katya already there, they took the opportunity to visit her and stay with her until the championship concluded. Nikita’s apartment was spacious enough for the couple and Katya to live together for a few weeks, and Nikita insisted that Katya spend time with them after work. He also made it clear that she absolutely had to attend the opening ceremony of the Quidditch World Cup.

“Hello, darling. Have you missed me?” he said upon arriving and greeting her at her apartment. “I’ve come to rescue you from the Brits,” he teased.

Katya let out a small squeal upon seeing him, excited that her friends were there. The last time they had seen each other was in 1993 when she visited them in Aspen. Katya and Nikita exchanged letters frequently, and she was grateful that her friend had lent her his apartment during her stay in England. So, when he asked her to join him and Emil at the Quidditch World Cup, Katya simply agreed.

The Quidditch World Cup campsite drew much of the country’s tourism. According to what Katya had heard at Gringotts, the Muggle Prime Minister and the Magical Prime Minister had agreed on a commercial statute due to the large number of witches and wizards attending that year’s championship, which would positively impact national tourism.

Katya had never attended a Quidditch World Cup before, so she found it fascinating how popular it was within the magical community. They had even introduced a kind of “holiday” where employees of banks, shops, and other establishments could leave work earlier to make it in time to the various Portkeys located in Diagon Alley that would take them to the championship’s meeting point.

The Quidditch World Cup was held in Devon, England, beside an isolated moor. The campsite was designed to resemble a Muggle camping ground with tents that appeared as ordinary as possible from the outside. However, inside, their owners had added features such as fireplaces, bell-pull cords, weather vanes, staircases, bedrooms, kitchens, and more. Katya, Nikita, and Emil opted to rent a tent with two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a kitchen in the French sector, intentionally distancing themselves from the Russian tents. Nikita and Emil didn’t want to run into any family members or old school friends who might spoil their experience. Katya, for her part, couldn’t have been more grateful.

At the first match, Nikita and Emil decided to enjoy the event from one of the most exclusive boxes in the stadium, having paid a considerable sum for the privilege of sitting near the United Kingdom’s Minister for Magic. Katya watched attentively as the Malfoy family began taking their seats beside the Minister. She couldn’t help but wonder how close the Malfoys were to the Minister and whether that connection might yield useful information to report to her father.

“It’s vulgar, Draco,” she heard Narcissa Malfoy say firmly to her son.

“But, Mother, they started it—”

“I don’t care. You must behave and not stoop to their level,” she reprimanded sharply.

After speaking, Narcissa turned to adjust her gown as she sat down, and that was when her eyes met Katya’s. Katya, seated just behind them with only the railing of the box separating them, observed her intently. Narcissa offered a poised smile before leaning towards her husband to whisper something. Lucius Malfoy immediately turned to look at Katya, a smile spreading across his face.

“Oh, what a perfect coincidence, Miss Borislova!” Lucius exclaimed theatrically.

The remark caught the attention of the Minister for Magic, who raised an intrigued eyebrow upon hearing Katya’s surname. Even Draco turned abruptly to look at her, clearly surprised. Aware of the attention, Katya decided to handle the situation with composure.

“Lucius, Narcissa, Draco,” Katya greeted them with polite warmth.

Beside her, Nikita, wearing his characteristic sunglasses, observed the interaction with interest. Emil, on the other hand, discreetly withdrew his hand from his husband’s, mindful of the Malfoys’ influence and how even the smallest detail could be misinterpreted, despite England’s more liberal stance.

“I thought Quidditch wasn’t to your liking, Miss Borislova,” Narcissa remarked with an amused expression. “Have you changed your mind these days?”

“Oh, I’m just accompanying some friends,” Katya replied with a measured smile.

Nikita, more inclined to join in, gave a casual wave.

“Nikita Godunov,” he introduced himself elegantly.

Lucius regarded him with clear disdain before replying, “The designer?”

“The very same” Nikita answered with a feline grin, evidently enjoying being recognised.

Immediately, Narcissa and Nikita launched into an animated discussion about his latest clothing line, covering everything from his sources of inspiration to the enchantments applied to fabrics to ensure a better fit. Meanwhile, Katya, grateful for the distraction her friend provided, managed to catch snippets of a hushed conversation between Lucius and the Minister for Magic. Though she couldn’t make out the details, she noted how unusually close their relationship seemed. Could Minister Fudge be corrupt? she wondered.

“I’ll send you a gift once we’re back in New York,” Nikita was saying enthusiastically. “I love the idea of witches around the world having a bit of Godunov in their wardrobes.”

“Oh, what a delightful thought!” Narcissa replied, visibly pleased. “I must say, I saw one of your designs on Katya a few months ago, and the colour combination was simply sublime.”

“That’s because my Katya here is my favourite model,” Nikita said, winking at her conspiratorially.

“Oh, I didn’t realise Katya had a designer among her suitors,” Narcissa teased with a sly smile.

Katya let out a restrained laugh, while Nikita smirked sarcastically.

“Oh, no. I’m a married man,” Nikita clarified, raising his hand to show his gold wedding band. “Besides, I fear Katya has her attention elsewhere.”

“I think that’s enough, Nik,” Katya interjected with a warning glance, though she couldn’t help but smile at her friend’s boldness. She knew, much like Narcissa, Nikita enjoyed playing matchmaker for her.

“Oh, yes,” Narcissa added playfully. “I know quite a bit about that. I believe her interest lies in academics, much like herself.”

“Is that true?” Nikita asked, feigning curiosity as he glanced at Katya. “I feel like I’m missing out on my own friend’s news.”

Narcissa let out a soft chuckle and was about to add something more when, fortunately for Katya, the loud noise marking the start of the match interrupted the conversation.

“Just shut up, Nik” Katya whispered, relieved.

“Oh, I’m just having a little fun. You’re becoming dreadfully dull, Kitkat” he teased with a playful tone. Crossing his legs elegantly, he sipped from a charmed champagne glass that never emptied as the match began.

The match between Brazil and Italy unfolded with great intensity, filled with spectacular plays and nearly impossible catches that kept the audience on the edge of their seats. The stands shook with the cheers of the fans, and Katya, though not an avid Quidditch follower, found the spectacle surprisingly entertaining. Nikita, however, seemed more interested in analysing the players’ uniforms, making sarcastic remarks about the lack of style in some teams, while Emil watched every move with the focus of a true enthusiast.

Italy dominated the scoreboard for most of the match, and when their Seeker caught the Golden Snitch, sealing the victory, the stadium erupted in cheers. Katya clapped with a calm smile, although her attention was divided between the celebration and the movements of the notable figures attending the event, including the British Minister for Magic.

Once outside the box, the crowd began to disperse. In the organised chaos of witches and wizards heading towards various transport points, Katya felt a slight tension as the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, approached with his aides.

"Miss Borislova, is it?" he greeted, extending a pudgy hand with his characteristic mix of politeness and awkwardness.

"Minister Fudge," Katya replied with a flawless smile as she shook his hand. "It’s an honour to meet you."

"The honour is mine," he said, studying her closely. His small eyes glimmered with curiosity. "I’ve heard very good things about you. The Malfoys speak highly of your work."

"Well... it’s a pleasure to work with them," Katya explained naturally, gesturing towards Emil and Nikita, who were watching the scene from a cautious distance.

Fudge nodded slowly, though his attention seemed fixed solely on her.

"Fascinating," he said after a moment. "Your father, Pyotr Borislova, is a highly respected name within Russia’s Federal Magical Committee. His influence does not go unnoticed, even here in England."

Katya maintained her smile, fully aware of the need to measure her words carefully.

"My father is married to his work. He has devoted his life to serving the Committee and our company," she replied neutrally.

"I imagine so," Fudge said, attempting a casual tone that couldn’t hide his interest. After a brief silence, he added, "I must admit, I am curious. What brings the daughter of such an influential man to work here in England?"

Katya noticed the undertone in his words: Should I be concerned? Although Fudge didn’t seem suspicious of the Malfoys, it was clear he was testing the waters regarding her family.

"I’m merely an accountant. I wish my work were more... disruptive, but I’m just a simple accountant," she said gracefully. "England seemed like a good place to broaden my horizons."

Fudge nodded, appearing satisfied with her answer, though his gaze remained laden with curiosity.

"I hope you enjoy your stay in our country, then," he said finally. "Although, I must say, I like to think we all share certain common values. I trust you share them as well."

Katya raised an eyebrow with feigned curiosity.

"What values would those be, sir?"

Fudge leaned in slightly, as if ensuring no one else would overhear.

"I mean security, Miss Borislova. Keeping ourselves safe from... dark influences that threaten our magical community. I can’t help but notice that certain rumours follow your father, though I’m sure they’re nothing more than that—rumours."

Katya kept her face impassive, though internally, she was weighing each word carefully.

"My father is a pragmatic man, Minister. But I must assure you that whatever he does—or doesn’t do—is unrelated to my presence in this country," she lied effortlessly. "While his decisions are always motivated by the wellbeing of our magical community, I am merely his daughter."

Fudge smiled, though his expression remained hard to read.

"That’s what I like to hear. I believe we must foster closer relationships between our magical communities. Of course, it’s always best to do so with those who share our vision."

Katya understood the subtext: Fudge was making it clear that he deeply distrusted any association with Dark Wizards, and her father, with his growing power in Russia, was precisely that—a powerful Dark Wizard. While Fudge didn’t see the Malfoys as a threat, it was evident that suspicions surrounding her father were a sensitive matter.

"I’m sure my father would wholeheartedly agree with you, Minister," Katya replied with a calm smile, inclining her head slightly.

Fudge seemed pleased with her response and straightened up, giving her one last evaluative look.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Borislova. I’m sure our paths will cross again."

"The pleasure was mine, sir," Katya replied.

As Fudge walked away, Katya felt the weight of the interaction. Her carefully chosen words were a reminder that, although her life in England appeared peaceful, it was anything but. There would always be watchful eyes on her—more than she’d like. Pyotr Borislova, with his reputation and connections, remained a polarising figure even beyond Russia.

Nikita approached then, his smile tinged with curiosity.

"That was... interesting. What did the great Cornelius Fudge want? Did he ask you to sort out the Ministry’s finances?"

Katya let out a short laugh, shaking her head.

"He just wanted to make sure I’m not a threat to the British magical community."

"Are you?" Emil teased, stepping up beside them.

Katya gave him a knowing look.

"That depends on who’s asking."

Nikita raised an eyebrow, his expression laced with unease. What exactly was his friend getting involved in?

The days passed in a whirlwind of emotions, spectacular plays, and the buzz of the Quidditch World Cup. Katya, Nikita, and Emil made the most of their time by attending every match, immersing themselves in the vibrant energy of the stadium and the infectious enthusiasm of the fans. Though Katya wasn’t particularly drawn to the sport, she couldn’t help but be captivated by the passion with which the teams competed and their catchy chants.

Nikita and Emil, on the other hand, lived each match as if they were on the field themselves. On more than one occasion, Katya caught them discussing strategies and reminiscing about their own days as Quidditch players at school. Emil, with his athletic build and nostalgic smile, often spoke of his time as a Beater for his school team, while Nikita, always more refined in his movements, had been a Seeker.

"Reminds me of your last match, Nik," Emil commented one afternoon as they walked back to the campsite. "It was one of the longest matches ever held at Koldovstoretz."

"Yes, I also remember how I broke my shoulder in the process," Nikita replied with a wry smile. "Though I must admit, hearing everyone chant my name was a decent consolation."

Katya smiled softly, enjoying the stories her friends shared. However, she couldn’t ignore the shadow of her true mission in England, which lingered at the back of her mind.

One evening, as the trio returned to their tents after an exhilarating match between Bulgaria and Japan, they found Lucius Malfoy waiting by the entrance to their tent. Lucius, as impeccable as ever, offered them a polite smile.

"Miss Borislova, gentlemen," he greeted them in his characteristic affable tone. "I trust you enjoyed the match. My wife and I are hosting a small gathering tonight in our tent. It would be an honour to have you join us."

Katya exchanged a quick glance with Emil and Nikita before replying.

"It would be a pleasure to attend, Mr Malfoy. Thank you for the invitation."

Lucius inclined his head slightly before taking his leave, leaving them alone. Once inside the tent, Katya adopted a more serious tone as she addressed her friends.

"Before we go, there’s something important you need to know," she began, looking at Emil and then Nikita. "There will be witches and wizards there with Legilimency skills. It’s crucial that you keep your minds closed."

Nikita frowned, crossing his arms.

"Why are you here, Katya? I thought you were just an accountant."

Katya sighed, anticipating the confrontation that was coming.

"I can’t give you all the details, but I’m gathering information. My father believes it’s important to observe certain movements in England at the moment."

"What?" Nikita replied, raising his voice slightly. "Do you realise you’re putting your life in danger just to please your father? This isn’t a game, Katya!"

"It isn’t," Katya responded firmly. "But there are things you don’t understand, Nikita. This is my ticket to freedom. If I do this, I’ll be able to break away from my family once and for all."

"And what if this goes wrong?" Nikita pressed, his tone full of frustration. "What if they find out you’re spying for him? Is it worth risking everything for this?"

"It’s not for you to decide," Katya replied with severity. Her gaze reflected both determination and sadness. The last thing she wanted was to argue with her best friend. "I’ve made my choice. All I ask is that you trust me."

The tension lingered between them for a moment before Emil stepped in, placing a hand on Nikita’s shoulder.

"We should focus on not drawing attention tonight. Katya knows what she’s doing."

Though Nikita didn’t respond, he eventually nodded, allowing the silence to settle over the tent as they prepared for the gathering.

When they arrived at the Malfoys’ tent, the atmosphere was one of understated elegance. Lucius and Narcissa welcomed their guests, while their house-elves circulated with trays of champagne.

Katya recognised several prominent figures from the Ministry of Magic. Cornelius Fudge was chatting animatedly with Barty Crouch, while Pius Thicknesse listened intently nearby. In another corner, Kingsley Shacklebolt and his wife, Athenea, were exchanging words with a group of officials.

Katya moved gracefully among the guests, greeting those who approached her while attentively observing the interactions around her. Emil and Nikita stayed close, though their behaviour remained reserved, following Katya’s instructions to reveal no more than necessary.

At one point, Fudge approached her with a smile.

"Miss Borislova, how delightful to see you again. Are you enjoying the evening?"

"Very much so, Minister," Katya replied. As they spoke, she couldn’t help but notice Lucius watching the conversation from a distance, as though evaluating every word. It served as a reminder that in this place, every gesture and every comment was observed and scrutinised.

As the night went on, Katya made a mental note of the most significant interactions, especially those involving discussions about alliances and international politics that would interest her father. Although she maintained a calm facade, she was acutely aware that she was walking a tightrope, where a single misstep could have severe consequences.

The tension of the evening weighed heavily on Katya’s shoulders as she tried to keep her composure. Her earlier argument with Nikita still lingered in her mind, but she couldn’t afford to be distracted. Her mission demanded her full attention and unshakeable focus. However, she couldn’t ignore the oppressive feeling that came over her when she noticed someone staring at her. Discreetly, she turned her head and found herself meeting the dark, intense gaze of Severus Snape, who seemed to be examining her as closely as ever. Her stomach tightened with irritation. Why is he here? she thought bitterly. This was not the time or place for personal distractions. She was here for information, to gather all that she could and be free of his father, not to relive old memories or face unresolved feelings.

Katya’s lips curled into a faint, lopsided smile as she looked away, forcing herself to maintain her composure. Severus wasn’t just watching her; his attention was also fixed on Nikita, who remained nearby with his usual stoic expression. The jealousy she sensed from Severus was almost palpable, and though part of her found it amusing, another part found it infuriating. After all this time, why did he still have this effect on her?

She hated that his presence made her falter, that it stirred memories she had worked hard to bury. It had been over a year since she had been with anyone, and she had convinced herself she was fine with that. Her life was too dangerous, too complicated for intimacy. Yet every time her path crossed with Severus, her body betrayed her resolve, reminding her of the nights they had spent together. Nights filled with lust and a connection that no one else had been able to replicate.

It wasn’t just the physical aspect, though that was undeniable. It was the way he challenged her, the way he understood her in ways few others could. She despised how easily he could unravel her defences with a single look, and tonight was no different.

At some point during the evening, the atmosphere inside the tent became suffocating. Katya needed air, needed to escape the weight of his gaze and the memories it dragged to the surface. Slipping outside, she lit a cigarette, the familiar act grounding her as she took a long drag, exhaling the tension slowly.

She had barely been outside for two minutes when a deep, familiar voice broke the silence.

“I thought you’d given up that habit,” Severus remarked, appearing at her side with his infuriatingly silent movements.

Her irritation flared again. Of course, he had followed her. She exhaled smoke slowly, refusing to meet his eyes immediately. 

“I had. For about two days. But England has a way of unsettling me.”

“And what’s troubling you, Katya?” he asked, his voice low and probing, crossing his arms as he looked at her with the same intensity that always managed to leave her unbalanced.

Katya finally turned her head, her expression calm, though her eyes betrayed her inner conflict. Part of her wanted to snap at him for intruding, for disrupting her carefully constructed focus. Another part of her wanted to close the gap between them and relive the moments she had sworn to forget.

“Nothing you can help with, Severus,” she replied flatly, taking another drag from her cigarette. She hated how her voice softened just slightly when she said his name. “I must admit, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“The Malfoys invited me. This isn’t really my sort of scene,” he said, his gaze shifting briefly towards the tent. “From what I can see, you’re in good company.”

Her lips quirked in a brief, genuine laugh despite herself. “Are you referring to Nikita and his husband?”

Severus arched an eyebrow, his mouth curving into the faintest hint of a smile. “Nikita? Your famous friend you used to talk about in our letters?”

“The very same.”

The way his brow furrowed ever so slightly told her he was already analysing her tone, her words, looking for deeper meaning. He always did this—always dug deeper than she was ready to reveal.

He stepped closer, and she felt the tension between them shift, becoming almost palpable. Her pulse quickened, and she cursed herself for it. She could feel his eyes on her, their shared history hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break.

“You’re as inscrutable as ever,” he said, his voice softer now, almost contemplative. “Still just as evasive. I wonder if you’ve ever been completely honest with me.”

Katya extinguished her cigarette, letting the silence hang between them for a moment before murmuring, “I was…” Her voice was almost too quiet, as though the words were meant more for herself than for him. Then, she turned to meet his gaze head-on. “Do you really want to talk about honesty? Do you really want to go there, Severus?”

The question seemed to catch him off guard, and for a moment, his mask of indifference slipped. But it was only a moment. He stepped closer, his tone low and deliberate. “I’m not here to argue the past. I’m here because I’m concerned about what you’re getting yourself into.”

Her heart ached at the concern in his voice, though she hated herself for feeling it. Why does he care? she thought bitterly. But deep down, she knew. Despite everything, despite the years, there was still something between them, something neither of them could completely sever.

“And what would that be?” she asked with a bitter laugh. “The last time we spoke, you promised to tell me about your connection with the Malfoys.” Her voice grew sharper, the irritation finally breaking through. “Funny, it’s been weeks, and I’ve heard nothing from you.”

“I haven’t forgotten; it simply isn’t the right time.”

“If you’ve lost interest, just say so.”

“Don’t underestimate my interest, Katya,” he said quietly, his voice dipping into that familiar tone that always left her off balance. “I’ve never stopped… thinking about you.” He hesitated, his words trailing off, but the implication was clear.

Her breath caught, and her pulse quickened against her will. Damn him.

“If you wish to continue thinking about it,” she said, forcing her voice into a casual, almost mocking tone, “I might suggest somewhere more private.”

Severus studied her for a moment, and she thought she saw a flicker of something—hesitation? Desire?—in his dark eyes before he gave a small nod. “Tell me where.”

She didn’t have time to reply before she felt his hand on hers, the faint touch sending a shiver through her. It was a gesture that reminded her of simpler times, times when things between them had been less complicated. A second later, the world shifted, and they left the tent—and the curious eyes inside—far behind.

In the distance, Nikita and Emil observed the scene with evident satisfaction.

"So that’s the famous professor," Emil whispered, sipping his champagne. "A bit… older than us."

"I’m glad to see Katya has finally given in to love," Nikita murmured, smiling.

"Always the romantic, my love," Emil said, taking Nikita’s hand and kissing his knuckles.

Nikita chuckled, and the pair left the tent.