Song Suggestion: Woodkid- "In Your Likeness" This is 100% a Titus song.

And Tamino- "Persephone" Couldn't decide between the two.

-My awesome beta, MyPrivateInsanity, wrote a naughty AU called In the Study where Hermione gives into her desire after watching Titus. You can find the link at the bottom of chapter 20 on ao3. As always, a big thank you to them for editing this giant chapter. As a reward for waiting an extra week, this chapter is 9K!

-There are now two House Pet discords. One is Titus centered (Butcher Bae). The other is focused on House Pet in general. Unfortunately, FFN is stupid about links, even in PMs, so I am unable to send a link outright. The easiest way to find the invitation would be to go to the latest chapter on ao3 (the story will come up on google).

This is the last chapter without Draco. After this, he'll be in it for a long time. As a reminder, this is a thematically DARK trust the process fic. I'm not writing things at random. Everything has a purpose.

Trigger Warning: dubious consent, grooming.

Desire's Consequence

Hermione stayed in the treehouse, only getting out to go to the loo and to bathe. On the second day, she made one daring excursion to her room to retrieve some clean clothes and the books under her floorboard, along with her wand.

Bitty brought her everything else she needed, including food. The first meal was the equivalent of an apology. She and Titus always had dinner together no matter what disagreements they'd had. It was one of the only rules he usually enforced. But this was worse than anything he'd ever done before. When Bitty materialized with the roast lamb and mashed potatoes, she knew Titus was acknowledging how much he fucked up.

Two days into her self-confinement, her birthday arrived. Theo came home for the afternoon. To his credit, he didn't ask why she wouldn't come down, besides a brief explanation that she was angry at something Titus had of pushing for an answer, he joined her, bringing up the cake. Julie, Dean, and Finch showed up an hour later, and they all sang happy birthday. Hermione opened their presents with a forced smile. She could tell Theo had questions, but he never asked. And she was glad, because how could she tell him what she'd seen? Just the thought made shame eat through her.

After Theo and her friends left, Bitty brought a birthday gift from Titus. Without opening it, Hermione marched her way to the pond and threw it in the water, finding satisfaction at the sight of it sinking under the water. She suspected Titus watched from a window, but she didn't look to confirm his location before heading back to her sanctuary.

At night, Hermione snuggled into the pillows and blankets that Bitty had provided, but she couldn't get comfortable. She sang herself happy birthday, knowing all it meant was just one more day closer to her Trials.

Crookshanks surprised her later by climbing the tree. He curled up beside her as she looked out the window toward the manor. The light in Titus' bedroom was on, but the rest of the manor was dark, bathed in moonlight. She scratched behind Crookshanks' ears, wondering how he knew she was up in the treehouse.

But kneazles had a sixth sense about things. She wondered if Crookshanks hid under Titus' desk on purpose. Maybe he'd wanted her to know what Titus had been doing. A part of her wished she'd never discovered it.

"I know I can't stay up here forever, Crooks, but I don't know what to do. I don't even know what to feel."


For nearly a week, she rested in her sanctuary, feeling safe among the trees. Julie, the boys, and Theo couldn't visit that week, so she had no one to help her through the intense boredom.

But she'd had years to learn to survive monotony. So Hermione practised, with and without her wand. She read her books, attempting to decipher the runic dark magic in the skin-bound book to no avail, allowing its tendrils to soak into her chest, even when it hurt. She had pretend conversations with her friends. She even built up an entire imaginary life for herself where she went to Hogwarts. In it, she made lots of friends and married a normal bloke she loved very much and still worked, preferably at the ministry, where people looked at her with the same respect that they looked at Titus.

Hermione understood what she did was pathetic and dreadfully sad, but she persisted.

However, after a solid week, when she called for Bitty, the elf didn't arrive.

It was clear that Titus wanted to force a confrontation, but she'd rather starve.

Hermione went without dinner and breakfast and lunch and then dinner again.

If it wasn't for the thirst, she would have held out longer. Hunger she could manage. It just meant meditating through the sharp pangs. But when she ran out of water, the burning that slicked down her throat couldn't be ignored.

She wavered, wondering if she could drink pond water, but she dismissed it. Wizards didn't get sick from most muggle illnesses, but even wizards shouldn't drink from a stagnant pond.

Hermione waited until it became too painful to continue. The burning in her throat twisted into a headache that pounded along with her heartbeat. When the dark invaded the treehouse, and the moon travelled to the middle of the sky, Hermione climbed down. She slipped through the gardens and into the manor, tiptoeing around.

She went to the kitchen first and drank water from the sink tap until the burning in her throat subsided. Then she went through the pantry, taking a bag of crisps and several apples. She ate a few pastries, nearly inhaling them in her haste to fill her stomach.

Hermione didn't turn around when she heard the footsteps. She focused on dragging a loaf of bread out and placing it in the bag she'd brought. She intended to fill it up, along with a jug of water, and go back.

"Hermione."

She ignored him, intent on stuffing the bag full.

The footsteps neared.

"Put the bag down."

"No."

"We need to talk."

"I'm perfectly content to never talk to you ever again."

"Enough! We need to talk about this. You can't hide forever." He yanked the bag from her hand. She twisted with her wand out, pointed at his nose. Titus sighed as he placed her bag on the center of the rough-hewn table.

If he wanted a confrontation, then she'd give him a confrontation.

He expected magical retaliation, but he didn't prepare for muggle violence. With her free hand, she picked up a spoon left on the counter and threw it at him. Even his quick reflexes didn't spare him as it smacked against his nose.

He cursed and briefly clutched his face.

"What the fuck." He narrowed his eyes. "Are you done?"

"You're not crying or bleeding, so no."

She grabbed an empty jug and aimed it at his head. This time—unfortunately— he ducked in time, and it missed, smashing into shards on the tile.

"Are you ready to talk about it like an adult?"

She'd run out of nearby things to hurl at him, so she supposed she could talk.

Hermione vibrated with the rage that had built for a week. "H—how long have you done that? One more lie and I'll use the worst curses I know."

She'd first seen the woman sometime before Christmas. For almost an entire year, he'd been doing this, at the very least.

"Since your birthday," he admitted. "Not what you saw, but my feelings—the thought of you going to someone else repulsed me. The Trials had always seemed so far away, and imagining some boy's grubby fingers touching you—"

"That doesn't—"

"Let me explain." He sounded a little panicked. "Not long after, I saw you standing near your window. The curtains were open, and you were in your knickers. I didn't mean to see you, but I—fuck, I don't know. I just couldn't stop thinking of you. One day you were some kid with skinned knees and wild hair, and the next—" He looked haunted. "The next you were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen."

"There are plenty of other beautiful women besides me. You bring them home all the time. Or— well, you used to."

Now that she thought about it—besides the muggle—he hadn't brought any women around in the last six months.

His expression softened.

"The other women don't matter to me. Not like you do." His hand twitched as if he wished to reach out to her. "I admit that desiring you felt wrong at first. I fought it for as long as I could. But the harder I resisted it, the more it grew. Of course, I desire you. You're the only woman I think I'll ever love. It's natural that it evolved into more. But I never meant for you to see that. I never meant to scare you."

They'd always had an odd relationship with ill-defined boundaries. She'd once wanted nothing more than for him to look at her like this. And now that he did, all it did was make her wary and confused.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I planned to talk to you at Christmas, but everything went wrong."

"The universe?" She reached up and touched the necklace. The crystal rested in the hollow of her throat. Even angry at him, she found it hard to take off.

He swallowed, and it looked as if he might be blushing— something she'd only rarely seen.

"You were angry with me, and I decided it wasn't the right time. After healing from the attack, I'd hoped—" He stopped himself and sucked in a breath. "And when I walked into your room to find you—I almost went to you then. It took all my self-control to walk out. I had dreams for days of replacing your fingers with mine. I—"

"Stop."

His jaw clenched, the ripple of tension pulsing down his neck.

"I don't expect anything out of you like what you saw. Do you understand that? I don't expect anything at all. Just because I had a whore—"

"Did you ever have sex with her while she was—when she wore my body?"

"Never. I swear on my mother's grave."

Maybe he told her the truth. The woman did mention something about a convoluted moral code. Maybe he had a few boundaries he never let himself cross.

"So you only touched my— mouth?"

Titus grimaced, but he nodded.

"I should have never done that either." He took a step forward, and she stumbled back. "I thought it was better than—fuck, I'll apologise on my knees—in any way that you want. I'll do anything for your forgiveness." He took another step. "But I refuse to apologise for what I feel for you."

The edge of the counter pressed into her back, and she kept her wand raised, though it trembled.

"I'm not sure what you're wanting from me."

"If I said nothing, it would be a lie." His eyes slid across her face, as if caressing it. "Because I want all of you."

"What if I don't want to give you anything?"

He grimaced again, and he took another step forward— much too close.

The wand now dug under his chin, but it was useless. Hermione found out too late that she didn't have it in her to truly hurt Titus, even if he betrayed her, even if he scared her.

"I've always admired your courage." His blue eyes glowed in the muted moonlight as he studied her. "You fight for what you want, and you go after it, no matter what kind of trouble it can get you into." He placed his hands on either side of her hips, gripping the counter, caging her in place. "I'm not like that. Every decision is agonising. I weigh the risks and the benefits, taking months to make a simple choice with as much logic as I can. But when it comes to you— I don't know what to do. There aren't any easy answers."

"I should curse you."

"You can if you need to," he whispered, leaning his face near hers. "I won't fight back. Wound me. You're the only woman I'll allow to do so. Do it right now."

He waited, but she did nothing. Hermione shook, wand still under his chin, as he pressed closer, enough that she could feel the outline of his body, the muscles ridged under the fabric of his clothes.

"In five seconds, I'm going to kiss you," he warned. "Because now that you know, I can't continue with this torture. I refuse to go another second without attempting to show you what we can be."

Five.

"What if I tell you no?"

Four.

For years, she'd wanted to know what it would be like to kiss him. Did she still want to?

Three.

"You can say no."

Two.

It was unfair how handsome he was and how good he smelled. It made it hard to think, especially since she still wanted to melt his face off.

One.

Maybe she needed to kiss him, just to finally know what it would be like. The only person she'd ever kissed was Draco, and it scrambled her perception.

Zero.

The word no rested on the tip of her tongue, but she found she couldn't speak as Titus leaned in, keeping his eyes locked on hers.

"I'll be as gentle as you need me to be," he promised. Ever so softly, he connected their lips. As if afraid she'd bolt, he didn't move. Just rested their mouths together.

Still, her mind reminded her of everything wrong about the situation. Why was she letting him do this? She shouldn't. Not after what she'd seen. But curiosity had always been her downfall. The desire that she'd felt, despite the anger, needed to be explored to discover if it was real or not.

When she gave no resistance, he sighed in contentment and pressed harder, his lips full and enticing. She didn't kiss back yet, too confused.

"You see, it's okay," he whispered, pulling back slightly. "It's just a kiss."

When their lips met again, he expertly angled his mouth, sliding his tongue along her lips until she opened.

Titus tasted clean and smelled like cinnamon, a scent that calmed her, despite his betrayal.

Was she scared of him, or did he make her feel safe? Somehow, it was both, and Hermione didn't know how to reconcile the dichotomy. She knew she must be fucked up in the head. How could a person like kissing a man after what she'd seen him do?

It was obvious Titus had done this many times before. He moved his lips and tongue against her expertly, nipping her lips, sending little bolts of pleasure through her—as if her body responded to the sensation whether she willed it or not.

He brushed his tongue against hers, and the taste and feel of him overwhelmed her senses, causing her to respond with a hesitant stroke of her own, finally participating.

Titus groaned— a sound of victory. His hands curled in her hair, increasing the intensity of his kiss. The tingle turned to fire, and it emboldened her more. On impulse, she captured his bottom lip in her teeth, sucking softly before releasing it again.

"Careful," his voice rumbled against her lips. "I'm not sure I have that much control."

And because she sometimes didn't make wise decisions, she bit at his bottom lip like he'd done to her.

"You're wanting to play rough?"

In an almost violent movement, his hands trailed down her hips going under her knees, pulling up and separating, so that she could wrap them around him, setting the edge of her bum on the counter. One hand tangled in the back of her hair, tugging her head back to get a deeper angle. The other hand still rested on her knees, and it slowly slid up and up and up along her thigh, until the clouds cleared in her mind.

What he was doing felt good, but his experience intimidated her, and things were going further than she wanted. Draco was on an equal footing with her. Neither of them had anything to compare their interactions to, so it felt like fun exploration. But with Titus, it felt like being herded into something more serious—something she wasn't ready for. If she continued, she had the instinct she might get irreparably burned. There'd be no climbing back up from the descent.

Hermione pulled back with a sharp gasp, separating them.

"Let me go," she whispered.

Titus looked dazed as he stared at her mouth and then searched her expression, brows furrowing at her sudden rejection. She wondered what he found. Did he see the answers he needed?

The hunger under the surface of his stare threatened to eat her alive, but he allowed her to push away. She slid out of his hold, though he still stood before her.

He tried to reach out and cradle her cheek. But she stepped away from him. He sighed at her retreat.

"Don't go back to the treehouse tonight," he said, tucking his hands in his pockets. "I'll stay out of your way."

Titus began to walk out. Hermione clutched the edge of the counter behind her, trying to understand what just happened.

"Titus," she said. He stilled, but he didn't look back. "This doesn't mean I've forgiven you. I don't know if I can trust you anymore."

He'd always taken his duty to protect her like a vow to a god. That he was the one who had frightened her must haunt him, and she hoped it did.

"I know," he whispered and left the room.

The kiss didn't solve anything, besides make her more wary of the change in their relationship. It was a war inside her heart between desire and the uncomfortable understanding that desire might not be enough.


Dean and Finch left two weeks later.

"Check on Katie," she begged them, while handing them their coins. The worry already ate through her soul. She'd never told them about how Katie's coin had turned black, and she still hesitated doing so, not wishing to scare them. What good would it do to frighten them now? Despite her hopes, she hadn't figured out how to make a coin that could send text.

The boys promised to check on her, of course. Only Hermione remained without tears, wishing she could cry. Something was still broken inside her. She'd lost her tears long ago and never regained them. She wondered what it would take for them to break free. And she feared when they finally did, she'd cry a lifetime of tears.

Hermione's chest ached as the boys climbed down the bucket rope and walked away one last time. Julie stayed with her for the rest of the afternoon. They both lay side by side, staring up at the ceiling of the treehouse, searching for comfort.

Hermione darkened the room with wandless magic and touched the choker on her neck—the universe Titus gave her. She'd shown Julie the goblin enchantment before, but her friend still gasped at the beauty twirling around them, as if they could walk into the stars.

"Are you scared of the Trials?" Julie asked, watching Venus hovering in the corner. The question made Hermione pause, so reminiscent of her last conversation with Katie.

"Sometimes," Hermione admitted. The black galleon burned in her mind— a warning. "Are you?"

"I'm more excited than scared."

"Whatever for?"

"Love," she whispered. "Babies."

Of course. Julie had always wanted to be a mother, and she was a bit of a romantic.

"But what if you don't love your wizard? What if you hate him?"

"I think everyone has something lovable about them."

Hermione couldn't help her cynical snort. She'd always been more of a realist. The odds of love were slim. It's the reason she had destroyed any threat of feeling in her soul.

And babies? Just the thought made her recoil. To her, they resembled shackles. Or maybe an unwilling sacrifice. She'd be forced to trade any ambition or dream just so she could birth someone else's. Hermione already felt like a ghost wandering the manor. Would she be even more invisible as a mother? Would her footsteps even make a sound? She didn't want to tiptoe through life. She wanted to stomp and roar and shake the Earth with her presence.

"I hope you get it," Hermione said. "Love, happiness. You'll make the best mother."

And Julie would. So patient. So sweet. She'd never known a person so tender. No wonder she won over a terrifying witch like Bellatrix. Only a soul like Julie's could attract the dark and, instead of being consumed by it, shine a light into it until she banished the shadows.

Hermione loved Katie, but she'd always connected to Julie in a special way. Maybe it was how soothing her presence was— an aura that reminded her of spring.

She sincerely hoped Julie got everything in life she desired—a man that loved her and plenty of babies. So far Goyle was the only one who'd put in for her, and Hermione thought they'd make a great match. But Hermione didn't know if she wanted the life destined for her. The future had turned into a knife, seconds away from digging its blade into her soul.

Julie reached out and grabbed her hand, giving a gentle squeeze.

"It won't be long before our lives begin."

The thought gave Julie hope, but it only gave Hermione dread.


After Julie left, she went back into the manor, overwhelmed with depression. How would she survive the future isolation? Life was offering her only two paths - loneliness or motherhood - and she didn't want either of them.

It's not that she didn't ever want to be a mother. She thought she might want one or two children in the future. It's just not the only thing she wanted to do with her life.

Titus stepped out of the floo just as she walked inside. They stared at each other with awkward tension. He'd let her avoid him since the kiss. It used to be so easy in his presence, but something had driven a wedge between them now— a betrayal she found impossible to overlook. The trust she'd had in him broke while she sat under his desk, and desire couldn't patch it back up.

Still, everything inside her had cracked, and she had no one else. So she trembled with suppressed emotion that wanted to boil up through her broken parts as he walked toward her.

"They've already left? Oh, Sprite. I'm sorry." She didn't retreat when he tugged her into a tight hug. The scent of fire lingered on his auror uniform, and she thought she might see a splash of blood on the skin just above his black gloves. "I know you're still angry with me, but let me comfort you."

For some reason, as she stood in his embrace, stealing the comfort she desperately needed, the hair on the back of her neck stood up.


In October, Hermione sat in the ministry ballroom, filled with important witches and wizards.

The applause was deafening as Titus walked across the stage. He'd never looked more handsome. He'd cut his hair shorter than normal, and his blue eyes gleamed. The Minister for Magic made a speech, listing Titus' accomplishments, including all of the rebellions he'd crushed and all of the terrorists he'd dug out of hiding. In the past three years, he'd also found four muggleborns—all girls.

"It is my sincere belief that we wouldn't have the peace we have now without Titus Nott. Which is why I am deeply honoured to introduce him as our newest Mediator."

The applause once again shook the air. Tabitha wiped away happy tears before clapping enthusiastically. Titus bowed his head as the minister put a medal around his neck. The gold gleamed under the bright lights.

Then he straightened and stood still as the minister took off his old DMLE badge and replaced it with his shiny new gold Mediator badge.

It was a great honor. At twenty-eight, he was the youngest ever in the position. There were now four Mediators in all, including the head auror named Dolohov. Dean's old master, Avery, and another named McNair held the other two spots.

But even compared to the seasoned Mediators, Titus was already ahead in capabilities and results. He held promise to take over full control of the auror department if he kept up his pace.

While the audience continued with their applause, Hermione chanced a glance to the stage and found Titus staring right back at her. When their eyes met, one side of his mouth tilted up into a gentle smile, showing off his dimple. Even though she was still angry with him, she returned his smile.

He'd worked so hard to get this position, and she was proud of him, despite his betrayal.

Throughout the rest of the ceremony, while everyone stared at Titus, he stared at her.


Later that night, Hermione curled up in the library in her favourite chair, flipping through an old, dog-eared book of Titus' mother's— another old romance novel. This one had a few scenes that pushed the boundaries of appropriate pureblood culture. In her favourite part, the two protagonists started taking off each other's clothes. It didn't show anything more, but Hermione read it over and over, always liking the thrill it gave her low in her stomach.

She'd already checked Dean and Finch's coins for the night, finding them both blue. Dean's sometimes went to green, which always made her relieved to see, but Finch's stayed blue. At the very least, they never went black. Afterwards, she checked Katie's, finding it green for the night. Hermione kissed all three before going back to reading.

Thirty minutes later, the pop of the floo caught her attention, but she ignored it, knowing it was only Titus arriving home. He'd gone out to celebrate his new position with some of his friends—or colleagues, really. Hermione wasn't quite sure if Titus had any friends. Not any real ones.

She absorbed herself in her reading. All the lights were off, except for a few fairy lights charmed to hover over her chair. It was just getting to the good part when Titus entered the library.

She looked up to see him at the entrance to the room, leaning a palm on the doorframe while staring at her.

"I love coming home to you." His words sounded slurred.

"Are you drunk?" Hermione asked, blinking slowly at the odd sight.

Titus never got drunk. He once told her he liked to be in control of his actions.

"A little," he lied.

He took a step and stumbled. When he went to his knees, he gave an uncharacteristic laugh. Hermione wondered if she should get Tabitha or Bitty to help her get him to his rooms.

But Tabitha was asleep, and she didn't like making Bitty work at night.

Hermione decided to do it herself. She walked over and reached down to help him. He staggered up.

"I'm fine, Sprite."

"Sure."

He leaned a little on her, arm across her shoulders. The rest of the way to his room he walked easier, only wobbling a few times. She smelled the alcohol, so strong she thought she could taste it in the air.

"Are you going to need any potions?" She asked.

"Not yet." He gave another uncharacteristic laugh. "Do you want to know why I'm so happy?"

"Why are you so happy?" She went past her room and continued to his.

"Now that I'm a Mediator, no one can take you away. Lucius' blackmail is over. I could give back Draco's token."

Hermione missed her step in shock, almost stumbling.

"What?"

"I think I'll still let the tosser compete."

"Why?" A sense of disquiet fell over her at the thought.

Titus shrugged.

"Teach him a fucking lesson." He grinned, showing both his dimples. He looked young right now, more carefree. It almost charmed her, despite his declaration having disturbing connotations.

"Let's get you to bed."

The door to his room cracked open as they neared, and they both stumbled through. Titus fell into his giant bed, tugging her along with him in a tight hug.

"My bed," he said. "Right where I want you."

"Titus," she warned, attempting to get out of his hold. But even drunk, he was heavy and strong, so it proved difficult.

When she managed to disentangle herself from his hold, he groaned and made his way to the pillow, not bothering to get under the covers. She unfolded a nearby blanket and draped it over him.

"Why do you hate me?" He asked, closing his eyes.

"I don't hate you. Go to sleep."

"I think a part of you does, and I don't know how to change it." He placed a hand over his eyes, as if the light hurt. She turned off his overhead lights and switched off the lamp, leaving only a glowing fairy light in the far corner. "I still can't believe you gave your first kiss to Malfoy. I bet he fucked it up. It would have been so much better with me."

A tingle marched along her skin, despite telling herself to calm down.

"Goodnight, Titus."

She tried to walk out of his room, but when she wrapped her hand around the doorknob, it didn't budge. She yanked on it a few times before realising that his wards had been activated. While he slept inside, no one could go in or out— an old safe guard of the manor to protect an heir while vulnerable.

Hermione turned to ask him to lift the wards, but like she suspected, he was already asleep. She didn't know if she wanted to attempt to wake him up either to deactivate the wards

After a few minutes of trying to get out in vain, she gave up and went to a nearby reading chair. She curled her feet up, rested her head on the side, and went to sleep.


She woke to Titus lifting her.

"Put me down," Hermione said, still halfway in dreamland. She placed her cheek against the warm skin of his chest. He must have gotten changed since they'd entered the room, because he now only wore pyjama bottoms that slung low on his hips, showing off his impressive array of muscles.

"Shh," he said. "You can't be comfortable."

"Aren't you sloshed?"

"I took a potion to help."

"What time is it?"

"Still too early. Your snoring woke me up."

"I don't snore," she said, a little offended.

Titus snorted out a laugh.

"I thought it was a train."

He laid her on his bed. The pillows and covers felt delicious against her skin as she burrowed underneath them. She was too tired to debate as he curled behind her on his side, tugging her into a tight hold, arm cinched around her waist. The human contact felt good. Too good. She craved touch. Despite being exhausted, she found she couldn't fall asleep, while concentrating on the feeling of his hard, warm chest pressed against her back.

After lying there for several minutes in silence, something hard pressed into her from behind, and she realised Titus was both awake and painfully aroused. He didn't do anything about it though. They just both lay there, pressed against each other in an odd suspended state of tension.

On accident, she snuggled back into him, bum brushing against his erection.

A strangled groan tore from his throat.

"Sorry."

"I'm attempting to be a gentleman, but you're making it impossible."

"I— can't sleep."

He paused, as if trying to figure out what she was saying. To be fair, Hermione wasn't sure either.

"You need to relax," he said, voice low. She felt it slick down her body, burning as it went.

"I'm not sure I can."

He gently tugged on her shoulders until she twisted and turned toward him. Her body ached in a familiar unfulfilled way.

"Do you want my help?"

"I don't know," she said, still wary.

He rested his hand on her cheek. They stared at each other for a long time. And then his hand dipped down, eyes on hers, and he reached the top button on her dress. He hesitated a moment before slipping it through its loop, while she stared at him, frozen in indecision.

"Release is healthy," he said. "It's natural to seek it, so there's no need to suffer or to feel embarrassed. Let me help you with your needs." He paused again, thumb brushing over her next button. "You can stop me at any moment, of course. But we don't have to live this way, separate and miserable. Our time together could be so–" he undid another button. "Enjoyable."

The word tugged on her lower stomach. She almost whimpered, afraid of the reaction it caused in her body. He unbuttoned three more without her refusal, showing the outline of her cleavage and bra.

She warred with herself. What if she did give in to the desire? What's the worst that could happen?

"I don't want anything serious. Just… this."

He touched their foreheads together, taking in a deep breath, briefly closing his eyes. Then he kissed her hard, rolling over on top of her in a sudden movement, as if he'd been waiting for her surrender. His hard, large body caged her underneath him, and despite her reservations, it felt heavenly. He sat up, grabbed at the top of her dress with both hands and with a hard tug ripped it down the middle, popping off the buttons. She gasped in surprise, shocked at the ferocity.

"I don't think you understand." Titus leaned down again, eyes sparking with lust, pupils blown. He placed his wand under the middle of her bra, touching their noses, with his erection pressed hard to the middle of her thighs. Unable to tell her body no, she spread her legs further around his hips to let him get closer. "This is serious to me, and I won't ever promise otherwise." He tugged up with his wand and the bra sliced in two, leaving her breasts exposed. She attempted to cover them, but Titus grabbed both her hands, tangling their fingers together, placing them by her head. He glanced down, studying her until her cheeks felt hot. "Bloody hell, just look at you."

He licked his lips, and his head dipped down, mouth covering her breast.

Merlin, she'd never felt anything like it.

"Wait," she said, panting at the sensation. Her whole body pulsed, and she resisted the desire to grind into his erection to get rid of the tension.

But she had an odd feeling that she was making the wrong decision.

Titus stopped on command, glancing up, blue eyes darkening. His wet, hot mouth still covered her breast.

"I don't know if—"

Titus flicked his tongue over her nipple, using his teeth to tug just slightly, and she arched off the bed with the feeling.

The words she'd meant to say disintegrated.

Her thoughts blanked as he sucked on one breast and then the other, until she was writhing under him, hands twisting into the sheets and then grasping at him, nails pressing against his back. His rough hands went to her thighs, pushing up her dress. Sitting up, he slipped his fingers around the edge of her knickers, sliding them down her legs, and throwing them off the bed.

When his lips pressed against the delicate skin of her thigh right above her knee, she shivered with need. She felt like if he stopped, she might combust into flames.

His mouth dipped lower and lower, using his lips and tongue to drag down her skin, tasting her flesh. Her thoughts cleared enough to determine his shocking destination.

"You can't be thinking about putting your mouth— that can't be clean." She attempted to cover herself with her fingers.

Titus laughed, as if she was ridiculous.

"The things I'd like to do to you are filthy." He gently pushed her hands away, and then stared at her, taking several shuddering breaths, chest heaving up and down. "You have no idea."

As he lowered his head again, she spread her legs on instinct, a silent show of submission, digging her hands in the sheets to anchor herself. He touched every place but where she wanted, setting her nerves on fire as he teased her, and she couldn't bear the torture.

"Please," she said.

He bit her thigh in response, and she gasped, wondering why the pain felt good.

"Beg me again," he demanded. "And use my name like a good girl."

"Please, Titus," she said. "I need you to— I don't know, but I need it."

He groaned and rested his forehead against her thighs.

"I've waited so long for this."

When his lips finally pressed against her clit, she nearly lifted off the bed, but he held her down, placing both her legs on his shoulders.

He kissed her like it was her mouth, just pressure, until he gave a firm swipe of his tongue. Hermione turned her face into the pillow and curled her fingers in his hair.

From there, she lost her place in reality. The world was nothing except searing pleasure and a hot tongue. When it dipped inside her, she began to roll her hips into the sensation.

Right when she was about to go over the edge, he pulled back. She made a noise of frustrated disbelief.

"Why did you stop?"

A sinful grin twisted his lips as he slipped two fingers inside her. They were just as thick as Draco's, but he curled his fingers up, and she let out a low cry.

"I wanted to teach you something new." He brushed his fingers over a sensitive spot inside her with a firm stroke. "This is your g-spot. It can be just as fun to play with as your clit."

"Oh, fuck."

"Now show me how pretty you cum. Let me taste it."

While his fingers were still inside her, stroking the sensitive spot over and over, he leaned down and continued to lick her clit, flattening his tongue.

The orgasm was intense. She pushed her hips up over and over, a scream catching in her throat. Titus gave a low growl, continuing his torture until the sensation crashed and spread along her body, leaving it buzzing.

When she caught her breath, she glanced down to see Titus had already shoved his trunks down, fisting himself. He crawled up until he was over her, right next to the middle of her thighs. He lined himself up.

"Titus," she warned. Now that she'd reached completion, her reason returned.

"I want to fuck you so bad." He jerked his hand on his length. "I'd fill you completely." She felt the tip of his cock go inside, and she scrambled back, but he tugged her back into place. "I'm not going to put it all the way in. I just want to feel your cunt." While using the wet hand that had been inside her to pleasure himself, it only took a few minutes for him to reach release. He stared at her while he tugged back and came on the remnants of her dress with a low groan.

After he finished, he sat back and stared at her, with her dress ripped in two, breasts exposed, thighs spread. His cum marked her stomach. She wondered what expression she showed him. A part of her was still wary, like she had just jumped into the deep end without knowing how to swim.

They just stared at each other in silence, as if equally shocked at what happened, and then his eyes softened. Using his wand, he cleaned her and repaired her clothes. After, he lay back down beside her and tugged her in close, kissing her on her temple.

"Do you want to change?"

Hermione wasn't sure if she could move even if she wanted to.

"No."

"Then get some sleep. We have several more hours until the morning."

Despite everything, Titus had been right— it did help relax her.


Hermione woke and suppressed her startle reflex, knowing she was in a different bed than her own. Her memories returned to her as she stared at the ceiling, and she almost groaned in mortification at what had happened. Things felt different without the cover of night.

"Good morning," Titus said.

Slowly, she sat up, dragging the blankets to her chest, though all her clothes were on. Titus sat in the chair she'd briefly slept in on the opposite wall near his personal bookcase, filled with a lifetime of memorabilia.

The room was comfortable and beautiful, of course. Only the best for the wealthy Nott heir, from the dark, streamlined wooden furniture, to the cream sheets, and the greyed out walls. The only colour was a dark, vibrant green— his favourite colour. It reminded her of the forest.

"We need to have a serious talk," he said.

Hermione looked at him again, not knowing what to expect. She felt awkward in his bed, remembering his tongue on her clit.

Titus slouched in his chair now, wearing casual clothes. His shirt was untucked, and the top unbuttoned. He had his legs spread, leaning to the side slightly, resting the top of his cheek on his fingers as if in deep contemplation. When he met her stare, he sucked in a deep breath.

"Last night was everything I'd hoped for, but I—" He closed his eyes and then opened them while sitting back up. "But I can't allow it to happen again. Not in that way."

"What do you mean?"

Titus acted too subdued, too restrained. He was about to tell her something unpleasant, and it caused all the hair on her body to raise in alarm.

"I thought I could wait years like you wanted, but it's too precarious. If I had—if your virginity had been compromised, it would have resulted in terrible consequences. And I don't trust myself enough to think I wouldn't go all the way the next time. So— to save us both— I'm left with no choice."

"You can't mean—"

"I'm going to start your Trials."

It took a moment to comprehend. To understand. And then panic filled every empty space in her soul.

"You promised," she managed to gasp out. "You promised you'd wait until I was twenty-one."

"I did promise." He looked grave but determined. "And I hate that I can't keep that promise. I understand your anger, but it will not move me. I'll spend a lifetime making it up to you, and I hope one day you'll understand that I did what was best for both of us."

Hermione threw her legs over the bed, standing up. She didn't know what to do with the sharp sting of betrayal. Despite her reservations, she'd trusted Titus with everything. How could he do this to her?

"Why are you punishing me?"

"This isn't a punishment."

Titus didn't stand, but it looked like he braced himself to do so if she bolted. His wand rested next to him, so even if she managed wandless magic, it wouldn't matter. He'd taken all of her power, leaving her a shivering newborn deer in the forest.

She'd always felt her lack of choice, but it usually held a benign edge— a show of protection. Her whole life, he'd only given her just enough leeway to give the illusion of freedom, but right now he yanked back her chain to show her the short leash.

You can't love a person you treat like a dog.

Just enough, Nott, just enough.

She should have paid more attention. She regretted ever letting him touch her, if this was the consequence.

"You plan to be the third token." She'd suspected it since he'd kissed her, but saying it out loud made it more real.

"Of course," he said. "The thought of letting you go— I'm not giving you up to some wizard like Malfoy. Early this morning I turned in all of the tokens."

Her dread managed to increase. She felt ill, like any moment she'd lean over and let the horror drip out of her.

"I refuse it!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Your token," she said. "You said you'd give me a choice. Well, I refuse it."

He jolted, as if she'd slapped him, having the audacity to look wounded.

"After last night, you'd really refuse my—" He stopped himself, gritting his teeth. "It doesn't matter. It's too late. My token is included."

He'd already put in the tokens, which meant there was no going back.

She grabbed at her chest. It felt like she couldn't take a breath. Titus made to stand up, as if worried.

"Don't come near me."

He seemed frustrated, but he stayed in the chair, strangling the armrests with his hands, while she felt like she was dying. Her breath came in multiple waves of heaving lurches.

"I'm not sure why you're so upset. The Trials were going to happen one day. This way you'll get to see your friends again, and nothing would change much, except we'd be free to be together."

He said that as if he'd win. Unlike when Draco said it, she believed Titus. He'd always been larger than life, capable of anything. What chance did any of them stand against a Mediator?

"I'll never forgive you for this," she seethed. Slowly, her panic died, replaced by a cold rage. She liked this emotion better. It helped her to grab the remaining scraps of her dignity. "You'll spend your life with a woman who hates you."

He flinched, clenching his jaw.

"Regardless of your hate, next week— a day before Samhain— we begin the Trials. Notices have already been sent to the other competitors. I plan to win the first two, and then I plan to place you in that exact same spot."

"I don't want a baby!" Would begging work? It used to crumble his resolve. "I'm not ready to get pregnant. Could you promise—" the word caught in her throat like poison, but she continued. "Could you promise to wait for that?"

The silence dragged and weighed them both down. Titus gave a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Fuck, I want to give in to you," he said. "But I can't. I'll give you anything but that."

"Anything?" She glanced around, understanding the complete emptiness of her existence. She might as well be a piece of furniture. "What could you give me that I'd want?"

"Merlin, you're so fucking spoiled." He ran a hand over his short hair, showing his distress. "Do you know how many people would trade places with you? You've never been without food. You always have the best clothes, while the rest of the country is struggling to survive. You have no clue what suffering really is. You—" He blew out a hard breath, as if trying to calm himself. "I get it. You're young and sheltered and don't understand your privilege."

That may be true, but he twisted her words. Didn't he understand that she could still have nothing while having everything?

"I'm not—I can't be a mother right now."

"Unfortunately, it's not up to me. They'd take you away if they discovered we weren't trying. But I—" he grimaced. "I'll give you six months. It's all I can do."

"Six months."

The thought that she could be pregnant in six months made her sick to her stomach. He must hear the horror in her voice, because his body softened its hard lines.

"You won't be doing it alone. I'll be right by your side, as well as Tabitha and the elves. We'll hire night nurses if we need to or a wet nurse. It's my duty to my family to produce a child too. I've neglected it before now, but I can't any longer. Whether it's a boy or girl, it will be loved and cherished. And we only need to have one. We can wait a few years if we decide to have another. There's nothing to fear."

Panic, anger, despair. Her body didn't know which one to settle on. She swayed a bit, reaching out to steady herself against the bed. It looked like Titus wanted to get up to comfort her, but she didn't want to give him a reason to touch her ever again.

"Go away," she said.

"Sprite—"

"I need—I need space. Time to think."

He drew in a deep breath and stood up. He'd always towered over her. It used to make her feel safe.

What a fool she'd been.

Stupid little doll.

How many times did he have to betray her for her to learn? She'd never let her guard down again.

"I don't like seeing you upset. I wish you'd allow me—" He reached out a hand, and she recoiled, almost tripping over her feet to get away. "Very well," he said as he pulled down his shirt. "I'll leave you to think and accept what's to come."

There was a hard, bitter note to his voice, as if he was the one who was hurt. He gave one last sigh and then turned, exiting the room.


Hermione lay on her bed, resting her head in Tabitha's lap as her old nanny softly stroked her hair.

"Child, I'm going to need to tell you things that might shock you."

Hermione almost laughed. She knew this was coming by the way Tabitha hesitated. As much as she loved the woman, she was awful at preparing her for things. Her first period had been no different.

"I already know about sex."

The hand on her head stilled.

"How do you know?"

"Katie's Mistress told her, and she told me. The only thing I'm unsure about is if it is painful."

"I don't have personal experience. I never got married and don't have children of my own, but I'm told it can be."

"Is it painful after the first time?"

"I assume it isn't. I've never heard women complain about pain."

Hermione nodded and decided to have mercy on the poor old woman and change the subject, since it made her uncomfortable.

"Why is he doing this?" Hermione asked. All day she'd been close to crying. It was a dam in her soul, one that threatened to break her when it finally burst.

Hermione wished she was little again, when everything seemed so simple. When it was just her and Theo running wild on the grounds.

Her nanny sighed, going quiet for a long time before finally speaking.

"You have to understand what he was like as a young boy. You see, Titus wanted nothing more than to be a dragon knight like the stories his mother read, saving fair maidens from evil wizards." Tabitha gave a soft snort, as if living in a distant memory. "It broke his heart when he discovered it wasn't an option. I don't think I've ever met a more determined child. He seldom loved, but when he did, it was deep in his soul. You should have seen his face when he held Theo for the first time—completely besotted!" Tabitha paused, as if gathering her thoughts. "He always—he always wanted to save injured creatures. His favourite had been a little bird that hurt its wing, falling from its nest. Titus spent every day nursing it back to health. No one helped him. The bird flourished, until one day it flew away. But— instead of being happy the bird was finally free, Titus felt betrayed it had left him. He thought his constant love was enough to gain him a loyal companion. Poor little fool."

"I don't understand what this has to do with me?" Hermione leaned into her nanny's touch, accepting the comfort.

"You're his bird, Hermione," she answered in a whisper. "You were given to him broken, and he healed you. I think he tried to accomplish it without loving you, knowing one day he'd have to release you, but—" She sighed. "His mother's death shattered him, but he only allowed himself a single day to grieve, and then he was back to trying to help Theo. He threw himself into becoming perfect, shutting himself off from everyone. I worried he'd never let himself love anyone ever again, afraid of the pain of loss. But then you came, and he found it impossible not to. You wiggled your way into his heart, gave him a purpose again, and I think he's terrified of losing you. Theo's growing up. I'm getting old. What would he do if everyone he loved flew away?" Her hand stopped moving. "I think I always knew that this day would come, and he'd be unable to release you, his love transforming as you grew. You used to have a puppy crush, so I just hoped one day—it doesn't matter, I suppose."

Hermione closed her eyes. She loved Titus. She would always love Titus, but she couldn't forgive him for this.

"He's wounding me," she said. "Not healing me."

"My dear Hermione," Tabitha said. "Though I understand his reasoning, I don't think he's making a wise choice, and I've told him so. I wish I could solve every ache in your soul, but this is one I cannot help you with. Titus won't listen to me. He's determined to win you, and I'm afraid the other competitors won't stand a chance against him. There are very good odds you'll be back home forever and will have to find a way to reconcile with Titus."

The future Tabitha painted was horrid, stuck wandering the manor. She'd be the ballerina trapped in the painting, spinning forever around and around.

No, Hermione decided, no I won't.

As the anger hardened her soul, an idea grew inside her mind.

A vizard afraid of a vitch's magic does not deserve her.

If Titus wanted a caged bird, then he didn't need to just defeat Malfoy and Krum.

He needed to defeat her too.


A/N: I will not be tagging this as Hermione/OC, no matter what happens. It would be unethical of me due to their slave/ master power dynamic.

A/N 2: This is the end of the first section of the fic. The Trials have arrived! Buckle your seatbelts and let the games begin…