Song Suggestion: Sickick– "G.O.M.D." The music video is perfect for this chapter. How can a jawline be so attractive?
Trigger warnings at the bottom!
Round of applause to MyPrivateInsanity for being the best beta in the world!
Of Gods and Mortals
They went home for lunch. Hermione still refused to speak to Titus as she chewed her food, though she felt his eyes on her, flaying her open as he always did.
"Tell me, Sprite—" he leaned back in his chair. "What will be so bad or different after I win?"
It wasn't that it was inherently bad, or that it would be different. It was the lack of choice in the matter. She'd been resigned to the Trials at the age of twenty-one, because she'd chosen it. She'd held that small agency in the palm of her hand, curling her fingers around it for protection, and one by one he'd peeled back each digit until it lay exposed, and then he plucked it away for himself.
But she didn't say any of this. Instead, she stabbed an asparagus spear, eating off the top part and leaving the rest. A crawling serving dish tried to give her another spoonful of potatoes, and she shooed it away.
Her soul longed for more than the manor walls, and she discovered too late that Titus would never give it to her. In his quest to carry his bird to safety, he was suffocating her.
Without her engagement in conversation, Titus sighed and threw his napkin on the table.
"You have an hour to rest before we need to return."
With his exit, Hermione grimaced at the table, her eyes following the subtle grain in the wood.
An hour later, Titus met her at the fireplace. He leaned against it in his auror body armour, black and fitted, showing off every line in his body.
There was no denying Titus Nott was the top of the food chain, a magnificent representation of a human male physique. A part of her, low in her stomach, would always find him attractive— the young girl inside her soul that desired his attention and approval.
She stepped up to the fireplace, but before she could grab the floo powder, he gripped her wrist and twisted her so that her back pressed against the edge of the marble mantel. He tilted her chin up with the edge of his finger and leaned down, so they were eye to eye.
"If the world was different, I'd do everything you asked of me. I'd tell the Wizengamot to fuck off and leave both of us alone." He looked toward the ceiling a moment, before returning her gaze. "The reality is that I have some power, but I don't have enough to keep you from the Trials. Sure, I could step out of the way and let Malfoy or Krum fight over you. And then after one of them won you, I'd lose any ability to see you ever again, without any guarantee he'd treat you right. Don't you see? I refuse to see a future without you in it. So I'm sorry I started the Trials early. I'm sorry if it hurt your soul in a way I didn't anticipate. Blame me for the rest of our lives if you must, but I'd still have fought for you if I'd waited too."
Hermione trembled. She wished she didn't. She wished her body didn't display any weakness. But in this position, she was vulnerable.
She'd always been vulnerable. She just hadn't known it.
"You make it sound as if you're guaranteed to win."
"That depends on if the spoiled wanker is as clever as he thinks he is."
He didn't mention Viktor, as if he didn't consider him a threat, and she wondered why.
"He's smarter than you." She didn't know if that was true, but the irritation it brought out was worth it.
His white teeth flashed.
"It won't matter. He can lose today or tomorrow. The result is the same, because this isn't a game to me."
"You'll need to beat me too." Hermione lifted her chin higher. "I'm not going to go easy on you."
He gave her a half-smile, showing he thought what she said was endearing.
"I hope so. Fight me. I want you to."
Titus glanced at the small clock on the mantle, and then pressed his fingers into her cheeks, dragging her closer, as if about to kiss her.
"It's time you see why everyone fears me."
Hermione walked into the Trial room just daring someone to mention her wand. Titus had obviously already informed the overseers like he'd told her, because they didn't even look her way, ignoring the wand in her hand. Not for the first time did she wonder what favours he did to obtain feigned ignorance from some of the most powerful people in the government.
Viktor only grinned at her wand, eyes trailing along her form. He seemed to approve of the development.
A vizard afraid of a vitch's magic doesn't deserve her.
Remembering Viktor's injury, she studied him for pain. He'd had time to get the wound patched up, but she bet it still hurt, which would give him a disadvantage. Viktor seemed like a man who enjoyed a challenge even if he feared it. Much like Titus, he wasn't used to losing.
On the other hand, Draco seemed bored. He tossed his wand up and caught it like he would a snitch. Hermione wanted to grab his cocky shoulders and shake some sense into him. He'd never been as afraid of Titus as he should be. He'd been raised spoiled, and despite his early loss, he expected life to keep working out in his favour.
Fated.
The word made Hermione want to rage. She was a realist. Wand against wand, Titus would be the victor. Or, at least, she thought he would. She really had no idea what Draco's abilities were. She didn't think he'd be completely useless. Not only was he top of his class, but he'd been offered a spot as an auror after Hogwarts, which he'd declined. Not to mention, he'd been raised by Lucius Malfoy— one of the only men Titus hesitated to anger.
Hermione ignored them all, taking deep breaths to center herself. She didn't think she'd win today. Titus had the clear upper hand.
But something bothered her. It had bothered her since lunch, though she couldn't put her finger on it.
Maybe it was Titus' demeanour. He was twisting his wand around his fingers, eyes unfocused. He looked like a general entering a battlefield, sussing out the weaknesses of his opponents, the correct blows to cut the feet out from under them. Plan A. Plan B. And Plan C.
If she wanted to win, she'd need to disrupt it somehow.
A familiar cough interrupted her thoughts. At the dais, Snape already eyed them with complete loathing. Hermione wondered if that was his natural expression or if he was perpetually constipated.
"In ten minutes, the Trial will begin. During the duel, all curses will be allowed, except for level three curses, which includes the Unforgiveables and any others that result in irreversible injury. A win will not be considered final until the opponent is either disarmed, steps out of bounds, or is otherwise incapacitated."
Everyone nodded their agreement to the rules.
After his speech, a scoreboard hovered above the overseers. Draco's name and Viktor's name were on the left side, showing they'd be the first duel. She and Titus were paired on the right side, and she didn't think that was by accident. Whoever won their respective fights would face off as the last duel.
Hermione stilled, sensing someone's stare. Draco eyes were bright as metal in the muted light. He cocked his head to the side, as if doing invisible calculations.
The room transformed into a circular, raised duelling arena, which gave more room for movement than the traditional rectangular platform.
Viktor and Draco climbed onto the platform and faced each other, positioned on opposite sides. The elves had already fortified their respective body armors, making it so most curses rebounded if close to essential organs.
"Are you ready?" Viktor asked.
Draco had the audacity to roll his eyes.
A hologram of the number five appeared between them. As it flashed red, it changed to four— a countdown.
Viktor crouched in preparation, but Draco remained standing, picking at his nails, as if he didn't have a care in the world.
"Vot are you doing, Malfoy? It is about to start."
Draco only shrugged.
The three flashed. The two flashed brighter. Then the one. And then the zero. The bell rang, reverberating through the hall.
"Expelliarmus," Viktor cried.
There was no blue Protego. No deflection. Draco's wand hurtled in the air and clattered on the floor across the room.
Hermione stared at the discarded wand and then flicked her eyes back to Draco. He had both his hands in the air with a sly grin. He didn't look like someone who'd just lost.
"Vhy vould you lose on purpose?"
"I don't know what you mean," he said, with his grin stuck in place. "You beat me fair and square."
Hermione narrowed her eyes. Viktor didn't win. Not really. She glanced beside her at Titus, who stood with his arms crossed, face in a cold mask. The only hint at his true emotions was a slight downward tilt to his lips. Something about what just happened made him deeply unhappy.
Viktor hopped down from the floating circle, looking troubled, and Draco did the same. He stayed unbothered as she stomped forward and placed her wand at his nose.
"Accio your wand and fight him again."
It bothered her that he let his wand fly. For the second Trial in a row, he'd lost on purpose. None of it made any sense.
"Rules are rules, love" he said.
It occurred to her then that he'd lost so he wouldn't have to fight against Titus. She reined in her anger, trying to look at it from a logical perspective, and lowered her wand.
"I thought you said you weren't afraid of Titus."
"I'm not afraid. I've already told you that I'm a strategist, Granger." Draco leaned close to her. "Could I win against Titus? Possibly. But it would cost a lot, and the odds aren't in my favour."
"But now you'll have to win the next two."
"Winning is just about statistical advantage. There's a formula for it." Draco raised an eyebrow. "Today, I'll let him have his ego trip."
Hermione opened her mouth to ask more questions, but a heavy hand landed on her shoulder and tugged her back and away from Draco and against Titus' hard chest.
"I can't quite tell if you're clever, or if you're a coward," Titus said.
To Draco's credit, he didn't back down. He only straightened.
"You can believe whatever you want."
"Bowing out to me is a very wise thing to do." Titus' hand transferred from her shoulder to her neck. "We're up next, Sprite. I'll let you have a few minutes extra to prepare if you need it."
The magic pounded in her veins with her frustration, vibrating inside her. The adrenaline spiked it, a potent mixture of conflicting energy that wanted to be used.
"I don't need to prepare."
Titus' thumb brushed along the side of her neck. Draco watched the movement. For a second, an emotion broke through. It was dark and heavy as storm clouds, but it dissipated quickly.
Titus leaned down, lips brushing against her ear.
"I think I'm going to enjoy fighting you."
She was going to enjoy it too.
If he wanted a fight, then she'd give him a fight.
Now in the duelling circle, Hermione faced Titus. He had his wand out, held loosely in his hand. He slid his left foot slightly forward, but she knew from experience it gave her no clues on what he'd cast or where. Furthermore, he was ambidextrous, so he could switch hands and curve a spell before she could block it.
But she had her own advantages.
Number one: she'd been studying him for years. No matter how quick, he still held a slight pattern. He tended to start on the right and only switched when needed. If he curved a spell, it tended to come from his left. He also liked to overuse offensive spells, only using Protegos for as long as it took to block a spell.
Number two: out of anyone, he wouldn't want to hurt her, which meant he'd use soft spells meant to subdue and not to break. He'd be careful. Hopefully, too careful.
Number three: he had no idea what she actually knew, giving her the advantage of surprise.
She didn't want to hurt Titus. She just wanted to punish him— wanted to show him how it felt to be betrayed.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Titus didn't know her as well as he thought he did if he believed she'd back down from a challenge.
She bent her knees like he'd taught her. And in lieu of an answer, pointed her wand at him, stating her intention to fight.
Titus nodded his acceptance and made a motion to Snape.
The countdown began.
Hermione watched the numbers flash. Her heart rate increased with each red number. Time seemed to slow as they waited.
The bell rang. Within seconds, she threw up a protego just as a nonverbal blue spell smashed against it. She held the spell, knowing as soon as she let it go, he'd attack with something heavier.
"I'm impressed with the strength you're holding the protego, but you're going to exhaust yourself."
Protegos always came easier to her. But defensive spells wouldn't win her this duel. She viewed him through the blue haze. He kept his gnarled wand pointed in her direction in an almost lazy manner, but she wasn't a fool to fall for it. She'd seen how deadly fast he could be, with perfect aim.
An idea came to her.
She twisted her wrist near her hip, transferring the spell to her wandless magic. A small shimmer was the only indication she switched. She kept the wand pointed at him.
In one motion, she lowered the shield, and pretended to use her wand. Instead, she fired a stupefy by flicking up with her wrist. The attack surprised him, but it—unfortunately— missed.
He righted himself and swatted away her next curse with a move of his arm so fast she almost missed it.
They stood there, staring at each other. She resisted the desire to pant, already feeling out of breath.
A grin lit up his face.
"You're better than I thought you'd be," he said.
A jerk under her feet almost made her tumble. She scrambled for balance, and somehow remained upright as the black platform under her feet began to turn.
"What's happening?" She asked.
Luckily for her, Titus couldn't capitalise on her vulnerable wobble as he was dealing with his own balance issues.
"You didn't think it would be a simple duel, did you?"
He sent a stupefy, only missing because she threw herself belly first on the floor. She twisted, rolling around, dodging two more blue spells. Both were expelliarmus, she suspected.
The platform finally stopped, and though she now felt a little dizzy, she sprang to her feet.
The real battle began. Spells cracked from their wands, filling the room with the burnt smell of magic, an earthy scent similar to fire and mud. They twisted and ducked and turned, using the whole platform to move. Her obsessive duelling practice was paying off.
She'd been right. He only threw soft curses— stupefy, expelliarmus, incarcerous.
Still, they slammed hard against her shield and sizzled past her hair as she dodged and deflected. They came so hot and fast, she didn't have time to throw any offence. She'd only had time to survive the onslaught. With each curse, her Protego became weaker. Hermione couldn't keep up with the tempo much longer, and he knew it, giving her an infuriating patient smile.
"Confringo," she screamed, fed up with it. The spell missed him, but it stunned Titus enough that she had time to rebalance herself just as the platform began to move again.
"I'm going to assume Theo taught you that, because that's a very naughty spell for you to know." He flicked his wand. She wasn't fast enough to get out of the way as an incarcerous struck her, binding her arms down with ropes. Unlucky for him, it didn't bind her hands, and with a small flick of her wrist they unravelled and fell to the floor.
The circle stopped.
Don't be predictable.
She flipped her wand into her opposite hand and fired a Reducto. He blocked it, but the change of wand hand had surprised him.
"I should have known you'd be ambidextrous." He grinned, as if having fun.
Hermione huffed in frustration. It infuriated her that he barely looked exerted when she'd exhausted herself.
They continued that way for a while—Titus throwing half-hearted soft spells, and Hermione attacking with increasingly more dangerous spells, only interrupted by the moving circle, as they hopped around.
"Bombarda!" It exploded against his Protego.
That flirted with the boundary of level two and three curses.
Titus held his shield up for longer than normal. His eyes narrowed, as if wishing to pick through her brain.
"I'm going to assume Theo had a lapse in judgement and taught you that too."
She might be exhausted, but her rage still flamed within her, giving her another burst of energy. She gave a growl of frustration. It was time she tugged out the dirty tricks.
Hermione clutched her side, pretending to be in pain, bending a little to make it seem real.
"Ow."
Titus straightened, concern taking over.
"Are you okay–"
"Expelliarmus!"
His wand flew, but his response time was too fast.
"Accio wand!"
It zipped back into his hands, and he frowned, about to throw another spell, but she beat him to it.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" She curved it just right, and it connected with his torso. She flicked up, watching as his body levitated. And then she flicked down, and his body slammed hard into the ground. She thought she might have heard a bone crack.
"Fuck!" Titus rolled from his stomach to his back.
Hermione raised her wand, intending to incapacitate him, but he was quicker. An expelliarmus hit her, ripping her wand away. It flew out of bounds before she could accio it.
The room went silent and still.
They assumed she was done.
Snape stood.
"That was—"
"I am not disarmed," Hermione seethed without even looking at him. "I don't need a wand."
Titus got to his feet, brushing his knees. He clutched his side. In the brief respite, she focused on pooling the magic into her hands, raising her wrists. Wandless magic took time to build the more exhausted the person was. She urged it to hurry up before Titus regained his bite, but magic did what it wished.
"That was very Slytherin of you. I think you broke my ribs, Sprite." He tapped his side with his wand and hissed in pain as the bones reset.
"Good."
He snorted out a laugh.
"I enjoyed this. Truly, I did." His smile turned into something fond. "But I'd really like to bring you home."
Hermione was absolutely done. The magic buzzed in her hands.
"Oculus Lacrimam!"
It zipped from her, without all the unnecessarily complicated loops of the normal spell.
Titus managed to block it, but he lurched back, eyes wide, studying her with a tilted head.
"Where the fuck did you learn that one?"
Years of studying magic right under your nose. She wished to tell him that she knew several dark curses, some worse than the one she used.
He shook his head, as if still in shock and held up a blue Protego as he turned his attention to Snape.
"Was that a level two or a level three spell?"
The overseers were staring at her with varying expressions of disbelief. Snape cleared his throat.
"Level three," he said. "It's outdated, banned for cruelty, arguably dark, since it renders the victim blind, and the results are irreversible." He glanced at Titus with reproach. "I thought you said she only knew basic magic. That was… wandless."
"I have no idea where she learned that. Not from Theo and not from me, and our library is warded against her access to dark spells."
"After this, you should figure out the source. But—as of right now—she's lost the duel by using illegal curses."
"Illegal curses?" If she'd known it was illegal, she'd never have used it. "But he didn't win against me."
Titus snorted.
"I've been letting you play this whole time." The side of his mouth picked up, showing off his dimples. "You put up a decent fight, but I wasn't even trying."
"I'm not exiting this duel, except by force." Hermione kept her wrists raised in threat. "If you can't beat me, then you don't deserve me."
"She needs to–" Snape started, but Titus cut him off with a raised hand. He no longer looked at her with amusement.
"It's over," he said, voice firm.
"It's over when you incapacitate me."
"If you need me to dominate you, I will." Titus crouched back into his perfect stance.
"Incendio!" Two fireballs hovered over her hands, and then she threw them. He deflected one, slamming into a side wall. Another was redirected toward the ceiling.
The dance began, but it didn't last long. She fired three more fireballs, taking a lot of her energy, but Titus no longer wanted to play. He whipped his wand up and whipped down, faster than she thought possible. Her wandless magic wasn't enough, and her attempted protego cracked under the pressure.
A petrificus totalus hit her in the chest. Her body locked up and tipped over, just barely missing her nose cracking against the hard floor.
She seethed quietly as she waited for him to walk over, unable to move. He seemed to be taking his sweet time, before she saw his boots inches from her eyes.
He crouched down, brushing the curls off her face.
"It's over."
The petrifying spell loosened its frozen hold, and she gasped in a breath. Titus reached down to help her up, but Hermione scrambled away. She stood up and clenched her hands.
Whatever study said participating would make a witch more accepting of her situation was wrong. It only made her feel as if she'd just lost a long game of chess—the type that made a person flip the board and promise never to speak to the other player again. She knew the loss was really meant to show her the futility of fighting her circumstance, to show her how powerless she really was. Hermione frowned and hopped down from the circle, crossing her arms.
"Sprite—"
"Don't talk to me."
"Don't be a sore loser."
"If you come near me, I'll find the nearest sharp object and stab you in the heart."
"You downplayed her abilities," Dolohov muttered. He looked a little fascinated by her as if she was a newly discovered ocean creature. "You've been far too lenient with her. If it had been anyone else but you, I'd have taken her away and placed her in another wizard's care for that display."
"I had no idea she could do any of that either," Titus admitted.
"Perhaps you should consider dampening her magic with obsidian. Having wandless magic—or even a wand— is one thing, but knowing dangerous spells is quite another. It sets a bad precedent for the other muggleborns."
"She's not dangerous to me. I have her under control."
She almost cursed Titus again, just so he'd regret that statement, but it would be foolish to bait Titus in front of Dolohov outside the duel.
They continued to talk about her, but she refused to be a part of the conversation any more.
Hermione walked away to the edge of the room and sat down, waiting for the end and trying to wish away the discomfort in her stomach.
Hermione sat in the corner for thirty minutes until it was time for the last duel. She ignored everyone in the room, and no one bothered her either, probably sensing her temper was white hot.
She'd lost two Trials. The odds of her winning now were very low. It was a fool's dream, she knew. No witch had won. Still, it caused a deep resentment to fester in her, an infection taking root.
When Viktor and Titus climbed onto the platform, Hermione stood up, allowing herself to stretch sore muscles. Magic depleted energy in the same way as exercise, resulting in exhaustion. She saw now how Titus had only played with her. She'd given her all, while he only used just enough to deflect. Even his soft spells seemed half-hearted.
She'd rather have been beaten in a way that broke her.
Hermione walked over to the spot reserved for watching, protected by typical duelling barrier charms, standing beside Draco. She didn't look at him though, crossing her arms on her chest, paying attention to the impending fight.
"Titus is about to give us an advantage," he said without looking at her.
"Us?" Hermione asked. He said it like they were on the same side.
Again, he didn't make any sense. If Viktor won, the Trials were over. If Titus won, then all it would do would even the odds between Titus and Viktor, leaving Draco in the dust.
Hermione studied the two men as they stood on the raised platform, waiting for the duel to begin.
Even from here, she saw the perspiration begin to bead on Viktor's forehead from nerves. He clutched the wand tighter than he should, and his stance was just a little off-balance.
Titus hadn't gotten into his stance yet. He stood straight, holding his wand in his left hand with his head tilted to the side, watching his opponent. He barely blinked. She wondered what went on in his mind. Was he reviewing the litany of spells in his repertoire? Was he calculating weakness? Was he deciding on the best first moves? Duelling was much like chess in that way. Much of the strategy lay in surprise, leading the other player to believe something untrue.
The red countdown began. Each second flickered against her heart, pounding a rhythm along her body. When the three flashed, Titus finally crouched into position, looking like he was born to do this, without any tension in his legs. A confidence behind the flex of his knees, the tilt of his hips, only earned with mastery. A slight smirk lifted his lips now that he was in his element.
The countdown ended with sparks of blue and red. Spells slammed against each other before she could even take a breath, curving whips of magic, electrifying the air. The intensity reminded her of the duel between Dumbledore and Voldemort—two titans clashing.
The familiar burnt smell drifted toward her.
As they danced around, using mostly nonverbal spells, switching from offence to defence, she understood now what Titus meant when he said he was playing with her.
He could have destroyed her if he'd wished, taken her hope and smashed it, let her watch the pieces shatter. But he'd let her have her duel, maybe to see what she could do. Maybe to try and give her a little dignity.
It didn't bring her any comfort. It only made her feel more powerless.
The platform moved, and Titus went with the motion, not even stopping while throwing a curse over his arm. A red incendio singed his skin, as it bypassed him, and another went over his head as he flung his torso backward.
"Good." Titus gave a nod of acknowledgement. "But not good enough."
Titus went on the offensive.
Hermione had never seen anything like it. The spells exited his wand like lightning without any hint of what they were.
Viktor proved successful at blocking most of them, but he seemed to be tiring. Hermione almost yelled out that he needed to stop leaning back, and that he kept straightening his legs too much. The off-balance stance would only exhaust him further, making him sloppy.
"You're overusing your left foot," Titus pointed out. She wasn't sure if he was intending to taunt or not, but he continued with the critique. "And your aim is off by a few centimetres each time. You don't compensate for the curve to your wand like I do."
Viktor attacked, seeming frustrated, using a spell that ended in a downward motion.
It was a mistake. What happened next flashed by in mere seconds. With his hand near his hip, Viktor was hit by a spell directly on his wound, causing him to crunch forward briefly from the sudden pain.
Without stopping, Titus gave an elegant twist of his body, ducking around Viktor's curse. While turning and rising, he sliced his wand up, like a man would a sword, and a bright red exited his wand, lighting up his face an unhealthy colour, features twisted into something she'd only seen with Zabini—an expression of wicked delight.
The red light hit Viktor as he straightened, followed by a spray of hot liquid that reached all the way to her. The cloud of red dotted the floor and painted the front of her body. A thunk sounded soon after. An object rolled toward her, making a horrendous noise.
The boundary spell protected from curse, but it didn't stop blood.
Hermione grabbed her lips with crimson-speckled hands, holding in her scream. It took her a minute to understand what she was seeing.
Viktor Krum's body still stood upright.
Without his head.
It stayed vertical for only a moment more, as if the nerves connecting everything didn't understand there was nothing left to control them. And then his body toppled backward, crumpling all at once, arms loose.
Hermione cried out in disbelief, understanding now that the squishy sound of something rolling toward her had been Viktor's decapitated head. It now rested near her in a perfect position to see his final look of surprise.
It's not real.
It's not real.
It's not real.
Hermione's mouth burned with acid as she tried to keep down her lunch. She put her hand out to steady herself, but there was nothing to hold onto. She made a few staggering steps toward Malfoy. He didn't seem surprised like her. Maybe a little disgusted, but not surprised, as if he knew Titus' endgame was to kill Viktor. It was why Draco dodged the duel with Titus, knowing he'd end up on the chopping block.
Or maybe he wouldn't have killed the Malfoy heir, because of Lucius, but disfigurement was a real possibility. She'd always known Titus was a killer, even suspected he might try to hurt the other contestants for her Trial.
But she'd never experienced this type of brutality— the severed head rolling toward her, the hot blood spraying against her body.
Viktor's body was still on the platform. A growing puddle of crimson streamed out the open tissue of his neck. It flowed off the side, creating a steady drip against the ground.
Hermione's vision tunnelled into small black dots. Malfoy caught her as she almost collapsed.
"Breathe, Granger," he said. "He shouldn't have done that with you here."
She grabbed Malfoy close, allowing herself to take a deep breath, pressing her frozen scream to his chest. He smelled like how Hopper did when he'd first given him back, and it calmed her.
"That's right— breathe. I'm here."
Hermione came to awareness as Titus' dragon hide boots slid toward her. She snapped her face up, viewing him properly. Maybe for the first time.
The Butcher.
"This is the last time I tell you to get your fucking hands off her."
"She grabbed onto me," Malfoy spat back. "After your stunt, she had a panic attack."
Titus came close enough to grab her arm with his gloved hand. She attempted to wriggle away, but he yanked hard, and she exited the safety of Malfoy's hold and crashed into Titus' chest.
"Are you okay?" Titus asked.
Hermione knew she must look pathetic. He'd seen enough gore that it must be nothing to him. But besides the filthy man, who'd deserved it, and her father, who she didn't quite remember, she'd never seen death. At least, not death like that—headless and gruesome. From where he held her, she could still see Viktor's body, seeping out a dark red puddle around the empty neck.
"W—why?" The contents of her stomach lurched again, and she groaned. "Y—You didn't need to—"
She couldn't finish. She remembered Viktor's soft smile as they danced, telling her that he planned to deserve her. He'd never be able to smile at anyone ever again. Even though she didn't know him that well, the loss gutted her.
Herm-own-ninny.
Titus searched her face. His own was devoid of emotion. Did he feel any guilt? Hermione doubted it.
"He made himself a threat by winning a Trial." Titus yanked her even closer. "And with a younger brother to take the role of heir, he was expendable." His lips curled in a grimace. "I'll do the same to any person who ever tries to take you from me." His eyes slid from Hermione and landed on Malfoy.
Draco made a noise at the back of his throat.
"Something funny?"
"Krum didn't understand the game you're playing like I do." Malfoy had the audacity to laugh again. "But do you want to know the best part? The best part is I understand your game." Draco stepped closer, but she couldn't concentrate beyond the feel of Titus' hand digging into her arm. "But you don'tunderstand mine."
The shuffle of boots signalled Malfoy walking away.
"Ignore him," Titus' voice finally softened. He gathered her to his chest in a tight hug they'd given each other many times, her head connecting close to his steadily beating heart. She heard it thump as he ran his hands along her blood-speckled hair, and she tried not to shudder with her new memories. "You'll be safe at home soon."
The air smelled of death— a mixture of copper and something foul and wrong. She'd have new nightmares when this was over that even Hopper wouldn't be able to cure.
Hermione stayed frozen in his hold. She didn't know how to climb out of the shock, wishing she could occlude to make it easier.
"Dolohov," Titus' voice rumbled under her ear deep in his chest. "Send my condolences to the Krum family. It's a shame that a level two curse landed just right against the only vulnerable part of his charms and armour. A terrible accident, but these things happen. As a show of goodwill, I'll pay a substantial restitution, even though I'm not required."
There was a brief silence.
"A terrible accident," Dolohov agreed.
They all owe me favours.
She heard grunts of agreement from the other overseers as Titus led her out of the room.
Trigger Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Character Death
