Song Suggestion is at the bottom of the chapter, because the title is a bit of a spoiler

Next Update: I'll be taking two weeks off for Christmas and New Years, so I can focus on my family. Hope you have a great holiday! Next update will be Jan. 8th.

Reminder: this is Hermione pov, so if she doesn't know something, then you don't either. This includes anything to do with the "outside world". It will all be revealed as the story progresses. House Pet will be around 65 chapters (give or take), so we've got lots of time for things to happen. Some of y'all are wanting ch. 49 events to happen during ch. 28. Patience, young grasshopper lol.

BAMF of the day goes to MyPrivateInsanity for editing this beast of a chapter.

A Vow and a Promise

Once again, they ate lunch in strained silence. Mid-way through the meal, Titus set his fork down and leaned back in his chair and watched her.

"I know you think I'm angry, but I'm proud of you." A smirk tilted up his lips. "The only muggleborn to ever win a Trial."

The compliment made Hermione pause. Despite trying not to react, it caused her body to turn traitor and flush with heat from the praise.

Though a compliment wasn't enough to distract her from the issue boiling between them.

"I want to know if you'll stand by your word."

"I never promised anything. You interpreted what you wished."

Hermione almost threw her fork at him. She closed her eyes, counting slowly to calm herself.

"Why are you denying me this?" The words cracked on her tongue.

"I'm not denying you," he answered. "I simply want something in return."

Hermione blew out a hard breath through her nose.

"Like what? Everything I have is already yours."

The light from the window hit him just right, blue eyes igniting like fire as he looked her over.

"I'm willing to give you what you want. All I'm asking is that you listen to my request without antagonism. Do you think you can do that?"

What she asked for was unprecedented. The fact he considered allowing her a choice soothed her anger to a manageable level.

"I'll listen."

It took a minute for him to respond, as if he was chewing on the words and didn't like the taste.

"If I win, I want a promise that you'll be mine."

Wasn't that the whole point of the Trials?

"I'm not sure I understand."

"Complete fidelity."

She remembered how angry he'd been when discovering she'd kissed Draco. But he was being a hypocrite. How many women had he'd paraded around over the years?

"And what about you? Am I supposed to watch as you get a mistress or wife, bringing home women once you've grown tired of me?"

He grinned, as if he liked the potential jealousy.

"I'm not planning to stray from your side. If you want a similar promise from me, I'll give it to you."

That was fair, she supposed, though the finality of it scared her.

"So if I win, I get a choice? And if you win, then you get my fidelity?" She asked to clarify, and he gave a nod of agreement. "And how can I trust that you'll hold up your end of the bargain? You haven't been very good at that lately."

"An unbreakable vow."

An unbreakable vow wasn't something to do on a whim. The consequences of not adhering to the specifics could result in death.

A vow for a vow. She should have known his Slytherin nature would want something in return, and it made her hesitate, because he was unlikely to propose this unless he held assurance he'd win. And if he did win, that meant no more sneaking off to kiss Draco. Her single outlet for love for her entire life would be him.

Did she want to risk it?

What was she sacrificing?

In the end, he'd backed her into a corner. For the illusion of choice, she'd need to place her heart in the center of a sacrificial altar for him to hold for eternity.

Still, it was her only option. The hope of winning was fragile, a flickering candle light threatened by wind, but it still burned. And while it burned, she'd do anything to give it oxygen and make it grow.

"Okay."

The tense lines of his shoulders loosened. He picked his fork back up and began to eat again, as if they hadn't just agreed to making a binding pact that could kill them.

If everything went according to his plan, then by morning, their dynamic would change forever. They'd have to consummate the bond tonight by ministry order. He didn't have a choice in that. She'd come to terms with it long ago, though she'd be lying if she said she wasn't nervous about having sex.

"Will it hurt?" She asked.

"Will what hurt?"

"Us– tonight. For me."

Titus studied her. It seemed like he didn't know quite what to say.

"It can," he said. "But it won't with me. You need to trust me when I say that I'd never hurt you."

The black galleon haunted her. Titus wanted her to trust him, but how could she? He'd lied to her before, and she sensed that he was keeping something from her again— to protect her.

He didn't trust her with the truth, hedging around his statements, telling her not to worry. But, in the past, that had only injured her.

Hermione only trusted herself.

She'd only trust herself from now on.


Snape arrived shortly after, to serve as the bonder. Without the Hogwarts Headmaster saying a single word, they all three stood before the floo, ready to make the vows.

Titus grabbed her face with both hands, tilting it up so she met his eyes, as if they were the only two people in the room. He stared at her for a long time, holding her as if she was delicate. His gloved fingers stroked along her cheekbones under her eyes.

"My clever, brave, stubborn Sprite. Do you know the things I'd do if you gave the slightest—" He paused, probably knowing this was doing nothing to settle her mind. "Give me your right hand."

She reached out, and they clasped hands. Snape walked forward, still silent and observing, placing his wand on their joined flesh.

"In the event that you win the final Trial, I promise that you'll get to choose which contestant wins you." Titus didn't look too happy giving her the concession.

"And my wins?" She reminded him.

"Neither of your wins will be voided."

"And you won't attempt to change my decision in any way?"

"I won't attempt to change your decision. Is that sufficient?"

Hermione reviewed the vow, trying to detect a loophole. But it was solid, so she gave him her nod of acceptance.

A ribbon of blue flame exited Snape's wand and wrapped around their wrists, tying them together. The heat settled under her skin, reminding her of the incantation used for Truth or Dare. They were similar in function, though an unbreakable vow was much more serious.

"Your turn," he said.

"I pro—I promise I will be faithful in body to you alone in the event that you win the Trials." Her voice faltered as she said the words, but Titus lost his pensive expression.

Snape almost started bonding the second vow.

"Wait," Titus interrupted. "I need to add my own promises." He gave her hand a squeeze, attempting to reassure her. "If I win, I vow that you'll be the only woman for my days and for my nights. My whole life will be devoted to you and our future children. You'll be mine, and I'll be yours. This will be a marriage in all but name."

When the second vow finished, the blue light embedded into her skin. Snape didn't waste time. He gave a gruff grunt of acknowledgement and disappeared into the floo.

Titus leaned down and gave Hermione a chaste kiss, firm enough to show a possessive edge. Hermione let herself lean into the kiss for a fraction of a moment, almost forgetting everything he'd done, before tugging back and placing her fingers over his lips.

"Not unless you win," she said. "I'm not yours until then."


The familiar biting cold of the ministry comforted her. It gave her another unpleasant sensation to focus on instead of her fear.

The overseers greeted Titus as they walked inside. Snape gave no indication of the serious vows he'd just witnessed.

They stood there while Hermione shifted from foot to foot, waiting to begin. After ten minutes of no Draco, she began to worry.

"Where's Malfoy?" She asked.

"If he doesn't arrive in five minutes, then he forfeits the Trials by default," Dolohov said.

An unpleasant sensation curled in her belly. Something didn't seem right.

Each minute lasted for eternity. What would happen if Draco never showed up? Would they allow her to still compete?

She studied Titus. His face was blank, but his wand hand kept flexing. It showed her more than a facial expression ever could.

Titus had done something to Draco. If he was out of the running, then the Trials would be over. There would be no point for her to compete, because the only other candidate to choose would be him. It's why he didn't care if he gave her the vow in the first place.

Titus glanced around. "I guess he's—"

The door to the room slammed open with a crack, and Draco walked inside with his wand drawn. Dirt was smeared across his face— and was that a twig in his hair? His trousers were ripped near his left knee, and his lip bled from a painful-looking gash.

Draco marched forward, wand trained on Titus with a violent curl of his lips, eyes darkened.

"You switched out my floo powder can for a portkey to Siberia! If I didn't carry an emergency portkey at all times, I'd be dead."

Titus didn't move or blink.

"And how could I get past Malfoy wards? How ridiculous. You have quite the imagination." A taunting smirk tilted up Titus' lips, only for a moment, as if he couldn't control it, but it was gone the next.

"I should crucio you."

"Threatening a mediator with unforgiveables? I know your father is Lucius Malfoy, but even he couldn't get you out of that. On second thought—" Titus opened his arms, embracing an attack. "Give me your best try. I dare you."

"Enough," Snape snarled. He looked at his godson. "Unless you have irrefutable proof that Titus Nott placed an illegal portkey on your mantel, you need to pocket your wand and ready yourself for the challenge. Might I remind you that any violence outside of the sanctioned times will disqualify you from the competition."

Draco was panting, but Snape's warning seemed to get through to him, and he slowly lowered his wand.

"You'll regret fucking with me," Draco spat, walking toward the overseers, torn trousers and all. She watched him as he slowed his breathing, as he wiped the expression from his face, his anger erasing as he deeply occluded.

By the time Dolohov cleared his throat, she couldn't read any emotion on him. Not on his face or in his body language.

Dolohov flicked his wand, and four giant landscapes appeared behind him.

"The last Trial is now set to begin," Dolohov motioned to the paintings. "As per tradition, the muggleborn will be allowed to choose one of the presented landscapes to host the final Trial. Each contains a different terrain with varying obstacles. They are redesigned with each new Trial, so that no competitor can acquire foreknowledge of what they contain.

"Within each of these arenas is a hidden green flag. The goal is to find the flag and bring it to a designated ending point, which will be at the highest point of every arena. The first person to bring the flag into the circle of completion will be named the winner. Magic will be allowed, but only level one spells can be used to subdue opposing players. Any questions?" Dolohov asked. No one answered him. "Very well. Come, muggleborn, and choose the terrain you'd prefer."

Hermione made her way to the line of artwork, each in frames as tall and wide as a man. The first held a winter landscape with icicles dripping from trees, weighing the branches down, snowflakes falling to the earth. The sky was grey and thick with hazy clouds, the land frozen and dormant.

The second was a desert, with sand dunes as large as hills. Resting in between were patches of dried earth, cracked from thirst. The bright sun seemed unrelenting. Scrubby brush and gnarled trees sat alongside cacti.

The third showed a jungle. Despite it being daytime, the tops of the trees blocked the sun, leaving the jungle floor dark. Plants and animals peeked from behind various foliage she couldn't identify.

The fourth was an ocean. Coral reefs stretched for miles in front of her. Brilliant fish darted in and out, and sharks circled in the distance.

She took her time with the decision, crossing off the winter landscape first. It looked miserable. She hated being cold, and the type of cold it presented made her bones hurt just looking at it. Shortly after, she dismissed the desert landscape. She wasn't familiar enough with the terrain. Thirst would probably be involved in the Trial, and she knew she wouldn't last through it.

That just left the choice between a jungle or underwater. Hermione already knew the bubble charm, which would help. Tabitha had put it on them as children when they wanted to explore the ponds on the Nott grounds, and she was a strong swimmer, though the circling sharks gave her pause.

Hermione's eyes landed once again on the jungle, judging the pros and cons. On one hand, there would be insects and animals and odd plants. She assumed many would be made carnivorous or dangerous in some manner. There would also be other tricks and traps along the way.

But due to Finch's obsession, she knew a lot about magical creatures and bugs. Most of her knowledge had been acquired against her will as Finch gave them hours-long lectures on unicorns or glow worms. Hermione smiled softly and touched the intricate wooden framing, thinking of her friend, thinking of her coven.

She'd done the impossible before with the help of her friends, gaining wands, learning magic, and she thought she might be able to do it again.

"This one." She traced over the thick canopy of trees, turning to look at everyone. Titus didn't seem too surprised at her choice. He gave her a slow nod, as if to tell her it was a wise one. Draco was still so deeply occluding she couldn't read what he thought.

"If that's your final choice, then you'll need to step through," Dolhov told her.

"Step through?"

"Yes," he affirmed. "Step into the painting. It will bring you to the location of the final and the other contestants will be placed at different sections of the arena. And then you will stay in that position until the bell sounds for you to begin."

Hermione pulled her finger back. Where she'd touched rippled as she pulled away, showing the surface to be almost liquid. The magic used to create these paintings was advanced—portkey magic. She suspected this was used as the final contest for all the Trials, though, like Doloohov suggested, they must switch around details to make it fair.

Hermione made sure her dragon hide boots were secure, hair still in her braid, wand at the ready. She was allowed nothing else, but she didn't need anything else. She had her mind, and she trusted that the most.

She didn't glance back as she gathered her courage and stepped into the landscape.


Hermione tumbled out into the jungle. The cloying humidity clung to her skin like a wet blanket. The framed painting hovered behind her only for a moment before it vanished.

The protective charms they'd placed on her in the morning still buzzed against her skin. Unlike Titus and Draco, she knew she wasn't in the same type of danger. Whatever they'd placed in the arena—whether that was a trap or an animal—wouldn't be able to harm her, though failing to overcome it would disqualify her.

Giant trees surrounded her, large vines hanging low, soil spongy and wet. On the nearest tree, mushrooms sprouted at the base, but she was not so foolish as to touch them, assuming any plant life or water was poisoned in some way. Only tendrils of sunlight pierced through the canopies above.

In the distance, through a break in the trees, was an odd hill with the top shaved off, creating a flat surface. It loomed high above the trees, and Hermione knew that was the final destination. After finding the flag, she'd need to climb it before entering the circle of completion.

She assumed it was all fake— an arena created for this specific purpose. They couldn't portkey to a real jungle. There might be a similar terrain in an allied country, but it still required special government permission. Though maybe it was a shared space for all of the countries combined. She didn't know much about how other countries conducted their Trials, or even if they all had them.

The terrain might be fake, but she bet the animals would be real— and deadly.

Hermione waited until the red number five appeared in the air before her. As the countdown began, Hermione readied her wand and went through her objectives.

Number one: stay out of harm's way.

Number two: find the flag before the others.

Number three: bring the flag to the circle of completion.

Sounded easy enough, though she knew it wouldn't be. Like Titus suggested, she needed to use every bit of magic and intelligence and fight if she wanted to win against wizards like Titus and Draco.

Hermione clutched her wand, the determination in her spirit growing as she watched the red numbers flash in front of her, ticking away to zero. The bell rang out, signalling her to start.

Hermione didn't act right away. Instead, she examined her environment again. Which way should she go? The sun was hard to see through the canopy of trees, and even if she could use it to determine her direction, it wouldn't help her. Was the flag to the south or the north? There wasn't a riddle to solve to help her with a first clue.

This was pure survival. It all boiled down to fast decisions, paired with knowledge of the environment. She doubted her strength in either, yet it was too early to quit.

This was the last chance for any sort of autonomy, and she wasn't about to let it slip by.

Hermione decided to hike in the direction of the tall hill.


As she walked along, the heat became suffocating. She lost track of time. It could have been minutes or hours. Time had no meaning in the jungle. Sweat made tiny rivers down her neck. She pushed aside some overgrown plants with a hard swat. It was almost no use. As soon as she pushed one away, another plant snagged in her hair, causing her to stop to detangle herself. She had a brief desire to cut off the bulk of her curls, bemoaning having so much of it. She doubted Titus was struggling with this particular problem.

Hermione tried not to think about the other contestants— of how close they were to victory. It only caused anxiety to thump through her.

A bug landed near her. She almost smacked it, but stopped herself just in time, recognising it.

A silverwing fly— a magical species that produced a powder in their thorax that caused sleepiness in both predators and prey. Similar to the trollcleg, they fed on blood, though not as aggressive. Only manticores and chimaera were immune to the powder, and the flies only released it when threatened.

She stared at it in wonder, knowing Finch would lose his mind, having never seen a live one before. They were fairly rare, making their homes deep in uninhabited regions.

The cloud of silverwing flies collectively buzzed, the edges of their wings lighting up, showing her their agitation. If they released their powder, she might as well give a shout to the overseers to give up, because she'd be disqualified after falling asleep.

To reduce their stress, she needed to smell more like her environment. Slowly, she squatted down and dipped her fingers into the soggy soil. Grabbing a wet chunk, she ran the dark, rich earth against her skin. The organic matter masked her scent, and the insects began to settle.

The act of coating her skin in dirt gave her deja vu, though she couldn't quite place it.

Hermione stared at the calmed insects as one of them landed gently on her arm. It started drinking her blood, but still she did not move. As softly as possible, she wrapped a hand around it in the way Finch showed her, creating an environment that imitated their homes. It wasn't long before the insect stilled, entering a temporary slumber. She placed a cushioning charm on it, so that it wouldn't be crushed, and shoved it in her pocket.

Hermione continued her hike, occasionally sweeping the dirt across her skin to renew the earthy smell. It worked to repel insects, but it did nothing for other animals. Ten minutes into her walk, a horde of small rabbit-like creatures popped out from a bush and almost gnawed off her legs. She vaulted onto the nearest branch, kicking at them.

Despite years of Finch shoving his special interests down her throat, she couldn't name the rodent.

Using a spell meant to repel spiders, she pushed them away with a swoop of her wand, but the little shites kept coming. Just before she climbed higher into the tree to escape their sharp teeth, she remembered something her professor told her a long time ago— almost all animals feared fire.

After sweeping the rodents away once again, she reached down and grabbed the driest branch she could find. It took three incendios for it to catch fire.

When one of the rodents leaped at her, she struck it with the burning branch, and it let out a high-pitched shriek. Normally, she hated causing any type of pain, especially to animals, but she made an exception for these rabid bastards.

It took three more burned rodents before they decided she wasn't a witch they wanted to mess with, and then they dissolved back into the jungle.

"That's right," Hermione swished the fire around. "Run you little arseholes."

She held the burning branch in her hand and continued her walk, feeling proud she'd thought her way out of two scrapes. The sky grew darker as she ambled along, though it was hard to tell. They had started in the afternoon, so she knew it must be inching toward evening. She dreaded the dark. Most predators were nocturnal. And though she did know a spell for night vision, it was hard to cast and didn't last very long.

Glowing eyes already stared at her from the bushes, salivating at the thought of burying their teeth into her flesh. The only thing that held them back was her fire.

All animals feared fire.

Except Manticores.

That was her first thought when the beast lumbered into view.

They stopped and stared at each other. The flames flickered in its eyes, while Hermione went as still as possible.

Hermione reviewed everything she knew about Manticores, and the results gave no comfort.

Manticores didn't belong in jungles, so the overseers must have thrown it inside the Trial just for fun. They originated in Persia, related to the Egyptian Sphinx. It had a human face with a lion's mane and the tail of a scorpion looming over it that could kill anyone instantly with its sting. They were sentient, but only in the way Acromantulas were sentient. Just enough to use their intelligence for their carnivorous urges. Just enough to croon while devouring their food.

One of the most dangerous creatures in the Wizarding World was within jumping distance from her.

"Hello," it sang, vowels elongated.

Hermione suspected she would vanish from the arena if she came in too close contact with the beast, but she wondered if the manticore would be able to sink its tail into her before the protection charm relocated her.

Either way, she had one option.

Hermione turned and ran, sprinting through the brush. She dropped the burning branch, and it sputtered out against the wet earth. She didn't have time to examine the foliage as she hurtled over it and dodged under tree limbs. An upraised root almost made her crash down, but she managed to right herself.

The manticore chased after her, tree limbs cracking under its giant paws as it gained on her. But as she ran, her brain began to work again.

Manticores may be immune to most curses and hexes— she'd never win with a fight—however, they could be redirected. Only one thing could manage that.

Hermione hurtled to a stop, pulling her wand out.

"Expecto Patronum!" Silvery wisps exited the tip of her wand, curling into the image of an otter— her patronus.

The manticore halted its pursuit, staring at her otter with interest in its too-human eyes. Much like other predatory magical creatures, they were drawn to the chase of prey.

Her otter bounded into the night, zigzagging through the trees. And, like she'd hoped, the Manticore twisted toward it, forgetting about Hermione as she forced herself to be completely still. It gave an odd roar, reminding her too much of a woman's scream, and bounded away into the night.

When it was gone, Hermione lit up the end of her wand as she bent over, gasping for breath, wondering how much more of this she could take. The adrenaline caught up to her, reminding her body and mind that a Manticore had just been nipping at her heels.

Hermione lifted the end of her shirt and wiped the sweat off her forehead. She'd need to continue, but—

"That spell wasn't from Theo either."

Hermione froze as Titus exited the tree line, walking into her view. He wore a grin, looking exerted too. Had he been following her? Had he run along with the Manticore?

Would he have saved her from it, or would he have let her be transported back to the overseers? She already knew the answer to the last one. Titus was prepared to win at all costs.

She didn't trust him, so she pulled her wand up and pointed it at him.

"Going to curse me?" He held out his arms to show he didn't hold his wand. But she'd seen him draw a wand in a flash, so she didn't let her guard down as he stalked forward.

"I just might."

He gave a snort.

"When this is all over, I'm going to need to know exactly what you know and where you learned it."

Hermione straightened her arm.

"Don't come any closer."

He rolled his eyes.

"I'm not going to disqualify you," he said. "Not yet, at least. You just lured away a Manticore with a fucking Patronus!" He shook his head with a smile, as if he still couldn't believe it. "That's quite advanced, and despite being angry that you've clearly been sneaking behind my back, I find myself — intrigued."

"Well, you can be intrigued from a distance."

"We really are perfect for each other." He kept walking closer and closer, disregarding the wand at his chest.

She'd never win a duel against him. That had been made abundantly clear in the second Trial. It didn't matter how much she practised.

The only tool she held was surprise.

One of her hands dropped and touched her pocket. Gently, she slid her hand inside, cupping the insect in her hand. It buzzed under her fingers.

His eyes looked dark with the low light.

"I'm not supposed to touch you during the Trials, but seeing you repel that manticore—I really want to kiss—"

She threw the silverwing fly at his nose. The powder exploded from its thorax into his surprised face. She covered her mouth and ran before she could breathe in any of it.

She didn't know if it was putting him to sleep, like she intended, or not, but she wasn't sticking around to find out.

Hermione ran through the jungle as if the Manticore was still chasing her. She stumbled once, tumbling to the ground, but she scrambled back up, knowing the fall tore a hole in her trousers. A trickle of blood from a cut ran down her shin into her sock.

She ran until she couldn't take another step, lungs seizing in her chest. When she finally stopped, she glanced around. The jungle was darker than before, and she felt watched. The hair along her arms raised, sensing the predators in her midst. It was an ancient instinct. She didn't need to see them to know they were there.

Hermione found another branch and lit the end with an incendio like she did the last time, hoping the instinctual fear of fire would scare off all but the worst.

Now over her furious run, she stepped softly, digging her feet under the leaves, attempting to not make a sound, following the ever-present hilltop in the distance.

She had no way to track time, but it felt about ten minutes later when she stumbled on the first rocks. Moss and vines grew over them, giving the impression of ancient ruins, crumbling with eternity. But it was an illusion like everything else.

Still, it was the first thing different from the surrounding jungle, so it felt like a clue. She followed the crumbling stones, until they got bigger and bigger, ending at a small pyramid structure.

Should she enter it? Instinct told her no, but the logical side of her brain knew it probably contained the flag. It wouldn't be an easy in and out, grab and go situation either. No, they'd made it dangerous and complicated.

Hermione walked to the pyramid, examining it. It reached maybe three times higher than she stood, with only one opening. She circled the structure, finding nothing else.

Going back to the entrance, she stared at it a moment, letting herself take a few deep breaths, knowing she'd need all the courage in her body to proceed.

Keeping her branch raised, the fire flickered along the stones as she walked inside. But she stopped immediately. The entrance opened to a wide room. The walls were bare, but the floor was made of stone squares, each containing a symbol. It didn't look like any script, modern or ancient, that she'd ever seen. Which meant it was a code.

But a code for what?

She glanced back down to the floor. Looking over each tile carefully, she discovered there were only three symbols used, all resembling old cave paintings, maybe runes if she squinted. The first looked like a stick figure of a man with an odd-shaped head. The next showed what she assumed was a horse, though it had twists to it. The third might have been a cave lion with two long teeth. All three of them appeared over and over throughout the room.

She suspected the floor triggered some sort of deadly trap and the symbols meant something. She just needed to figure out what. Walking back outside, she picked up a medium-sized stone.

After entering again, she threw it at the stone with the stick man. A line of fire blasted through the stone, slamming upward against the ceiling. It only lasted a few seconds before the fire vanished, leaving a gaping hole where the stone once had been.

So stick man was a no.

Hermione gulped, imagining what would have happened to her if she'd just waltzed inside without care.

Determined now, and a little wary, she went outside to get a second stone and a third, trying to find one heavy enough to trip the trap but light enough she could throw it further. She tugged them inside and set them on the room's edge.

After eyeing the possibilities, she tossed the next stone at the one that resembled a horse. It did nothing. She waited, but everything stayed the same.

Just to eliminate all the possibilities, she aimed at the third symbol— the cave lion— and flung her last stone. The square crumbled on impact, along with three surrounding stones. They splashed into the water below, followed by the furious snap of a creature's jaws. She didn't wish to know what the sound belonged to.

Horses were safe.

An odd contentment went through her at solving the puzzle. She wondered if curse breaking would be similar. It sounded like an exciting career, something she'd excel at.

But this was possibly the closest she'd ever get.

Hermione shook her head, banishing the depressing thoughts. She needed to stay focused, get the flag, and continue to the final point on the hill.

Hermione gathered and threw a second rock at a horse to confirm her theory before risking her neck. It stayed solid.

Taking a deep breath, she summoned her courage and leapt to the closest horse. It held steady, though she wobbled. No part of her could touch any other stone. One would crumble the stones around her, dropping her to unknown depths, the other would turn her into a rotisserie chicken.

Hermione took a moment to map out her path. It was like a maze, where some of the stones led to dead ends. After carefully pinpointing the perfect route, Hermione began her hops and leaps. If she didn't think too hard about it, it was fun. As if she was a little kid again, with Theo, playing a lava game. Except the lava was real, and the wrong move had consequences.

The last symbol loomed, and she hesitated, wondering what she was about to fling herself into. She couldn't see from this angle. Its opening had a staircase that led to a darkened hall. Whatever lay beyond would be a mystery.

It didn't matter. She couldn't turn back now. She had to see this through. At the very least, she needed to cross the finish line, even if she didn't win.

Hermione jumped. It wasn't quite far enough, and the stone gave way from under her. She grabbed the edge of the stairs, tugging herself up just enough while the square fell into the water. She swore she heard the distant sound of snapping jaws again. Did they have crocodiles down there? Hermione was a curious person, but not that curious. Instead, she heaved herself the rest of the way onto the stairs and panted against the unforgiving edges.

After catching her breath, she pushed up, getting to her feet. Behind her, the stones rearranged themselves, magically reforming as if they'd never been disturbed in a thousand years.

It meant the others could have gotten here first. Or they could be right behind her. She wondered if Titus counteracted the sleeping powder in time. He probably did. As an auror, he'd been trained to get out of all kinds of things. She refused to underestimate him.

And Draco? She hadn't seen him since entering the Trial, but he was probably lurking around somewhere.

An urgency built in her. She was wasting her time overthinking. Hermione looked at the dark hall, holding her wand aloft with a quick lumos and walked inside.


The hall twisted and turned. She went as slow as a snail, watching for traps. Lines crisscrossed on the floor, and by instinct, she stepped over them, not willing to waste the time to figure out what they did.

The hall abruptly dead ended with a solid stone wall. She reared back a little, thinking she'd made a mistake. Had there been a different way? If there had been, she hadn't seen it.

The same strange symbols were etched in the stone. Without rocks, she didn't have a means to test, assuming touch would either let her through or try to kill her.

After a thorough search she found a miniscule horse in the corner— the only one on the wall. It could be another trap, but she had to try. Knowing this might be the end of her adventure, she took a chance and pressed the tip of her pinky against the symbol.

The whole stone door vanished. One moment it was there, the next it was gone. She didn't have time to celebrate her victory, because she noticed the edges were already starting to reform. She flung herself through just as it returned to a solid wall.

Once again, Hermione panted against the ground, breathing in dust. She must be filthy: covered in dirt, leaves in her hair, along with sweat and possibly dried blood.

Stifling a groan, she paused, looking up to find Malfoy standing in front of a raised stone structure, doing a complicated set of wand movements. A glowing orb of lumos hovered above him to light his path. A waterfall crashed behind him, disappearing underground, probably feeding the reservoir of water under the stone maze.

If it wasn't for the roar of the waterfall, he would have heard her, but the noise covered her entrance. She considered dispatching him right away, but decided against it, curious at what he tried to do.

Knowing she needed to hold the advantage of surprise, Hermione slowly made her way to a side wall hidden in darkness, lumos extinguished. For a moment, Draco's eyes roved through the dark as if sensing someone close, someone watching. She held her breath, stilling her movements, and then she relaxed as he went back to his task.

Malfoy seemed a little frustrated, as he tested out different spells. He tried several wand movements with little luck. Finally, his expression cleared, replaced by excitement.

A swish. A flick. Another swish, and a green flag appeared—a rectangular scrap of cloth half the size of a child. Draco reached out and then hesitated. He waited a few seconds, as if taking calculations, and then he grabbed the flag.

Hermione watched his face light up in exultation.

It was a shame she'd have to cut his joy short.

"Incarcerous!"

Thick ropes wrapped around Draco's middle, knocking him to the ground. He scowled furiously, but when she stepped out of the shadows, the scowl died, replaced by a contemplative look that slowly grew into something almost mischievous.

"Granger," he said. "If you'd have told me constraints were your kink, we could have experimented with them long ago."

Despite the darkness, she knew her cheeks burned at the suggestion. He always managed to get under her skin.

Hermione walked toward him, silent. When she got close enough, she bent down and took the green flag from between his fingers.

"You were so focused on getting this." She dangled the flag in front of him. "But you should have kept an eye out for other predators."

Draco's white teeth flashed in the dark, lit only by the lumos still dangling in the air above them.

"As I've implied, you can tie me up any time you'd like."

Hermione paused, eyeing him. Draco seemed too calm to be losing. He didn't seem upset at all that she'd jumped from the shadows and stolen his prize. She hesitated, searching for the trick. Knowing him, he probably had one up his sleeve.

She placed the tip of her wand under his chin.

"What's your game?"

"You haven't figured it out yet?"

"Clearly."

He scoffed. "For the brightest witch I've ever met, you can be very obtuse. Even Nott's figured me out. Why do you think he forced the vow on you?"

She went completely still. The hair on the back of her neck lifted.

"How do you know about the vow?"

It looked like he might not answer her, so she pressed her wand harder until his grin turned to a grimace.

"I have my ears everywhere. A person can't succeed without the correct motivation and strategy. Take you for instance— what would Hermione Granger do for a choice?"

Draco had spied on them. She wondered how as she took her wand away, unsure how to react to the information, having trouble recognizing if it was insidious or not. In the end, it didn't matter.

"Well, it's been invigorating to beat you, but I have a Trial to win." Hermione stood up, not even bothering to brush away the dirt from her knees.

"Remember what I promised you."

He meant his pretty words at Madam Malkins— his promise to let her do what she desired without saying no, giving her whatever she wanted without restrictions, including postponing getting pregnant.

Hermione shook her head, refusing to look at him.

"The thing is, Malfoy, I don't trust you, and I don't believe you."

"Granger—" he started to say, but she began to walk out, blocking out his pleas for conversation.

She'd think about his revelations later. Right now, all Hermione could concentrate on was the flag and the area on top of the hill. Tying the flag securely around her waist, she refocused her mind and crawled back through the tunnels as his voice faded away. And then she leaped along the tiles. This time she didn't miss any, clearing the last one and landing at the entrance to the pyramid.


Only two more incidents happened as she walked toward the circle of completion.

As she pulled on a vine, it tumbled down. She'd realised it was a snake just in time to avoid the fangs and immobilise it.

The second event happened because she'd kept her eyes on the treeline when she should have paid attention to her feet. One second she was walking, and the next she was sinking into a puddle of mud. To her good fortune, she'd already had a hand on a sturdy branch, attempting to swat it away, so she grabbed on, hoping it didn't break, as she scrambled out.

It took her a whole minute to bring down her panic attack before she could continue.

Once she got to the big hill, it proved a fairly difficult climb. She jumped from rock to rock, finding her own path, cursing it as she went, giving it threats as if it was sentient.

As she climbed, she kept hearing something below her. When she moved, it did too. But when she stopped, it stopped as well. With her hands occupied, and her wand clenched between her teeth, she had to rely on her senses. She scanned the area, but finding nothing, she continued on her way, convinced it was just in her head.

When she got to the top, she lay groaning in the dirt, wishing she could quit, muscles burning. While she wasn't out of shape, exercise wasn't what she liked to do in her free time.

Forcing herself up, she studied the area. The top of the hill was flat, but it had thick vegetation like the jungle ground. A small clearing was a short run from her. A dome of hazy blue light shimmered. All she had to do was cross it with the flag on her, and she'd be the winner.

A burst of adrenaline went through her. All that remained in her existence was the flag and the clearing.

Hermione didn't waste any time, trudging through the vegetation. She untangled a vine in her way, being careful that it wasn't a snake.

She could see it clearly now—the circle of completion.

Hermione almost gave a loud whoop in joyful excitement. She marched along, as the thought of victory made the magic zip around her veins.

But the wariness that she'd been followed couldn't be shaken.

"Homenum Revelio," she said.

A magical signature lit up to her right, but it was too late. A lasso of magic wrapped around her waist, trapping her wrists, reeling her toward her opponent. She stumbled with each tug.

Titus stepped out from behind the tree, pulling on his magic lasso until she was in his firm grasp. He wrenched the wand from her hand and in a quick movement, he undid the lasso, but bound her wrists in front of her, leaving her helpless.

She struggled against him, but it was no use. He untied the flag and jerked it away.

She should have expected something like this. After all, what was the use of fighting through the pyramid, when all he had to do was wait for the hapless person to wander to the finish line after doing all the work for him?

Without saying anything, he tugged her along with him, forcing her to walk, though she attempted to dig her feet into the soil.

"No!" she yelled. "Let me go!" But he didn't heed her cries. Instead, he grabbed her struggling body up and flung her over his shoulders, his strong arms pinning her legs to his chest. She hit his back with her fists in her rage. "You wanker! I'll hate you forever!"

He gave a snort.

"Obstinate to the end," he said. "But your threat doesn't scare me. I don't think you have it in you to hate me forever."

He walked until his feet edged the circle. The blue haze gave off a faint buzz of magic.

"That trick with the sleeping powder was clever. Almost brought me down, except the powder can be washed away with water. A quick aguamenti, and I was as good as new." He shook his head in amusement. "This will be an exciting story we can tell our kids one day. Their mummy was so fierce, but their father wasn't about to let her slip away. The chase was fun, I admit. I'm glad you proved a challenge."

"Don't take this from me," she begged.

He sighed.

"I'm willing to be a patient man for you and that includes weathering your temporary anger."

He gave a little pat to the back of her struggling thighs and then stepped across the line.

It took a moment for reality to hit her.

He won.

Titus won.

She'd been so close, and he'd stolen it from her.

But had she expected anything else?

"No," she groaned. It came out like a pathetic whimper.

He let her slide down his body until her feet touched the dark soil, knowing there was nothing more to stop. The fight left her.

"No," she said again, feeling like she was going into shock.

The rest of her life flashed in front of her. Walking the manor halls day after day, staring at the ballerina twirling, reading the same books, seeing the same people. It felt like she was being crushed. A glass cage sliding closer with each breath, without access to a real education or anything she'd want for her life. She'd occasionally be brought out for ice cream and books, and then she'd be brought back to rot. A piece of furniture, a possession, ready to be used.

She supposed the nights might be fun for a time, curled in Titus' sheets. But it would only lead to bloody sheets as she laboured, pushing a slick body out of her, as it squealed for her attention.

Would she like the nights then? Or would she dread them for what it would cost? Would she think it worth the brief pleasure?

He vanished the binds on her wrists. And then he grabbed the sides of her face, tilting it up, giving her a look of concern.

She stepped back away from him, and he tried to reach for her.

"Don't touch me," she warned. He dropped his hand with a frustrated look.

"I knew the loss would be hard for you to accept," he said this as if to remind himself. "You're a wild spirit. It's something I love about you, but it can also hurt you. Don't you see that? I just want to keep you safe, and that includes being kept safe from yourself."

Her eyes went to the treeline, wondering if she could run. She stepped outside the circle of completion, outside the bubble of magic. She had no true plan. Her instinct was just to escape.

Titus eyed her warily, probably sensing her thoughts. "There's nowhere else to go. They'll just transport us back. In fact—" he glanced down at the green flag in confusion. "We should have already vanished." He looked toward the sky with his brow furrowed.

Slowly, he lowered his head and glowered.

"Something's wrong. Come back here, Sprite. It's not—"

Two things happened at once.

The flag in Titus' hand changed from a bright green fabric to an emerald leaf.

She only had a few moments to realise the flag in Titus' grasp had been transfigured before Draco Malfoy appeared next to her, dispelling a complicated disillusionment charm.

Draco grabbed her shoulders, turned her toward him, and wrapped a thick cloth around her throat like a scarf.

"You look lovely in green," he said.

With one hard push to her shoulders, she tumbled backward, stumbling over the blue haze of magic. She grasped the cloth as it threatened to flutter away. Finally straightening, she glanced around. Malfoy wore a satisfied grin.

"Fuck," Titus said.

Hermione looked down at her feet.

She'd crossed into the circle of completion with the flag— the real one—wrapped around her neck.

Hermione glanced up in shock just long enough to see Titus' horrified expression, mouth open as if a shout died in his mouth.

"I won," she whispered.

And then all three of them vanished with a pop.


They reappeared in front of the overseers, who wore the same expression as Titus— complete disbelief.

Hermione took a moment to orient herself, still clutching the green flag.

Her thoughts ran wild. Draco had waited for her to step out of the circle. He'd most likely gotten to the flag first in the pyramid, and then he'd waited for her to arrive and given her a transfigured leaf. The whole interaction with him tied up must have been a ruse. Then he must have escaped his bounds in time to climb up the hill behind her. The noise she'd heard had been him. And after using the revealing spell, she'd been captured too fast to look for other people, thinking it had been just Titus.

"There's no way we can let this stand," Macnair said. "There's no precedent for this. A muggleborn, winning her own Trials? It's absurd. We might as well allow the lot of them to riot. It can be argued that Malfoy truly—"

"The win will stand," Titus said, voice hard. She knew he hated every word out of his mouth. "I promised her I wouldn't void it."

It had to stand or else he'd die. Titus had made an unbreakable vow, confident that she'd lose. By his expression, he wouldn't have done that if he'd thought she'd had any chance of succeeding.

The overseers looked at each other in confusion, but they all seemed to accept it. Macnair wore a frown, as if the situation were distasteful, but Dolohov only looked at her with interest.

"So the golden mudblood gets to choose her fate," Dolohov drawled. "A Malfoy or a Nott. Well, let's get on with it then. I don't have all day. Who do you choose?"

"Right now?" Hermione asked, still feeling whiplashed. Her brain hadn't quite caught up to the situation.

"Right now."

How could she make that sort of choice immediately? Her whole future was on the line.

Both Draco and Titus stared at her as if wanting her attention, but she kept her gaze locked on the ground beside Snape's shoe.

The decision seemed so simple before. Just moments ago, she'd been about to riot over the idea of being brought back to Nott manor. She was mad at Titus, but did she really want to say goodbye? He was all she'd ever known. The facts of Titus were simple: he loved her, he'd never hurt her, and he'd always try to make her happy. There would be no leap of faith with him. No rough transition. It would be back to her old routine—a comfortable life in luxury. The only change would be sleeping with Titus, which—if she was honest with herself—would be no great hardship.

In contrast, Malfoy was a wild card. She didn't know all his motives. He couldn't have lied during their game in the glade, so he believed they were fated, and he was attracted to her. But they didn't love each other. They barely knew each other. Would he resent her eventually? Would he place the same chains on her that Titus did and ignore all the promises he'd made? Would she be miserable, trapped for life with a cruel man?

She placed her hands on her ears, as if to quiet the storm in her mind.

Why did Draco shove her across the line? Why didn't he take the win for himself? If he had, they would have created one last Trial—a tie breaker.

I know your game Nott, but you don't know mine.

What would Hermione Granger do for a choice?

He'd chosen riddles and puzzles for his Trial, knowing full well she might beat him at it.

Her mind paused, as all of the pieces came together. His cryptic statements to Titus. The way he didn't struggle against his bonds in the Pyramid.

Her eyes widened.

Draco wanted her to win.

Not only that, but he'd schemed for her to win.

He'd gifted her the thing she'd wanted the most in the world—a choice—fully knowing she might not pick him in the end.

Her heart lurched, and something odd filtered through her. More substantial than attraction. Heavier than lust.

Hermione's eyes snapped up, viewing Titus. Despite all of her recent anger, she loved him— fiercely. She wished to thank him for his kindness to her. He didn't have to educate her or let her have friends. He could have beaten her. He could have hurt her in numerous ways. Instead, he paid for tutors and started a muggleborn school, just so she wouldn't be bored. He attempted to keep her happy and protected.

Tabitha was right; she was his bird. Leaving him would wound him in irreparable ways.

But if she ever wanted to experience the exhilarating freedom of flying, she'd need to find the courage to jump from the nest and fall, with only a slim hope the wind would buffet under her outstretched wings

Titus' eyes widened, as if he understood her thoughts. He reached a hand out toward her.

"Sprite," he said, voice raw. "Don't—"

"I choose Draco Malfoy."


Song Suggestion: Charlotte Lawrence– "The Joke's on You"