Hermione had last seen Viktor ten years ago. Memories flooded back in her head, slamming into her like a wave. She remembered the awkward butterflies her teenage self had experienced when someone like Viktor Krum, champion of Drumstrang, had taken an interest in her.

He was kind and level-headed.

And he had gone through all of Numberland. She wished he hadn't gone through this pain.

The next words rushed out of her. "Where's Draco anyway?" She wanted to sound breezy but in reality, she wanted to know what he was doing at any time of the day. What he thought and where he did it. She hoped he was okay.

The hint of a smile stretched Theo's lips, a twinkle in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to think better of it at the last second. "He's helping at Town Hall. Filling in for the High Scavenger that died at the Ministry. We also lost two High Gamemasters."

She nodded and tapped her boots on the ground mindlessly, thinking. "What's the difference between those roles? Between the High roles and the normal ones?"

"Malfoy didn't explain it to you?" Theo looked surprised.

She looked down at her legs. "No, he—I never asked him."

"Did he tell you he was a High Scavenger before becoming a trainer?"

Shrugging, she brushed aside the light uneasiness that filled her stomach. He could have told her, but what did it matter? It changed nothing between them.

"I knew he was a Scavenger before," she said simply. "But not High Scavenger."

Theo shifted in his seat. "They're ridiculous titles, really. A High Scavenger oversees all the other Scavengers. They do their own rounds across the cities to determine the higher-risks zones, like, where there's the most resistance. They hand out the assignments for the other Scavengers and they're the first responder in case of an emergency related to the captures outside."

She hummed in acknowledgement, and he continued.

"The High Gamemasters oversee all the other Gamemasters. They enhance the games year after year to make them more efficient, more fun, more this and that." She winced, and Theo drawled, noticing her expression. "Yeah, I know. They're also in charge of the Sorting Ceremony and they're basically the police inside the castle. Making sure it doesn't become a zoo in there."

"Who manages the spectators? There are thousands of people coming…"

"Yaxley, Dolohov and Macnair were doing a lot on this front. International missions, publicity, and the Floo network."

It felt good—although the word was too great—to focus on something like that. Facts and operations.

"So there is an international Floo network still working." She tilted her head at him.

Theo glanced at the balustrades and quickly checked that there was nobody. "When the Ministry of Magic was overthrown, they took control of the Floo network as well. They broke the magical regulations binding the Floo network to its continent. Deactivated the network running between the normal fireplaces and redirected the international travel flow here, in the Empire. It takes time to redirect a flow, so they only have seven."

"One for every country that sponsors the games," she assumed.

"Some countries sponsor the games, but they don't send an army of spectators." Theo swallowed, and she watched him closely. "The Empire only built an international fireplace for the sponsors that pledged their allegiance. Which means the countries that send the biggest flow of spectators every year."

"So—wait, those countries have direct access inside the Empire?"

Theo shook his head. "Only on Game Day. They close it otherwise."

"Where are the fireplaces?" She wondered if they were in Hogwarts. If every day, she passed by the room that enclosed so many freedom possibilities.

"In Town Hall." He gave her a stern look. "Now, Granger, don't do something silly."

Her thoughts were in shambles, tossing and bouncing against each other. These informations changed everything.

"Thank you for being this honest." She got on her feet, wiping her hands against her uniform to flatten it. "I have to go."

"You have nowhere to be, Granger." He got up too and pointed at her. "I know there's something in your head."

"There's always something in my head." She turned away quickly, walking out of the courtyard. "Thank you again."

He didn't chase after her—bless him. With quick strides, she went back to her room and closed the door behind her. Her pulse had fastened considerably.

Draco had deactivated her tattoo, and he could apparate her anywhere, but not internationally. If they escaped, they could go far. But it wouldn't be far enough. And there would still be fog.

But now she understood that she could escape to another country. And shove every player through these fireplaces too. Far from the Empire. The fog was elsewhere around the world too, but people did learn to survive.

There were only two days that made escaping through the Floo possible. March 1st and May 1st. The third game day and the last game day.

And if she wanted to have every chance on her side, she had to find a way to plan this big escape with the Order, and they would have to work with a deadline.

Breath still heavy, she dove back into the only book in her room.

When she was done with the book, the sun was low in the sky. She was finished with the seven books, and she felt a swirl of things inside her. She wished she was in Narnia. She wanted to keep it and read it over and over and over again. But she didn't want to be caught with it.

She wanted to share her reading journey with Draco but she didn't know how to find him in the Empire—if he even was in the Empire. Normally, he was the one to find her. She desperately wanted to see him, just a glance of him would be enough.

She had a better chance of stumbling upon him outside of her room than inside. Shoving the book inside her uniform, against her chest, she left her room. She crossed her arms across the bulk in her uniform and walked fast, hoping she wouldn't catch lingering stares.

The Great Hall was empty and clean, which meant dinner was over. Once outside, she hurried her footsteps, the cold biting into her face. Night was approaching, and the wind had lessened but the chill was stronger.

She started down the path to Cindermore, passing in front of Town Hall. Her steps slowed slightly as her gaze tracked every movement through the tall windows on each side of the buildings. Maybe he was still in there, caught up with his High Scavenger tasks.

Halfway through the quiet path, there was a faint rustle from further on the side. Cindermore was in front, Town Hall and the dorms were behind. On her right were pine trees and a long plain.

A darkened silhouette was lazily walking towards her. One hand in their pocket, the other pinching a cigarette at their lips.

She stopped dead in her tracks, although she knew she should have kept walking.

"Hi, there," the man said.

And she remembered him. She hadn't come face to face with him in a long time. He had been the one to capture her at Billston Street, to wake her up from her cage on her first day, to lend his voice to the Arena during the games.

Darstan stopped in front of her, and drew a deep puff of smoke while his eyes roamed over her. "Didn't mean to scare ya," he exhaled, head angled slightly to the side. The smoke curled above their heads, disappearing into the sky.

Hermione crossed her arms tighter around her. The muscles in her shoulders tensed in anticipation. What did he want? Had he followed her?

"What'cha doing?" he asked calmly. His eyes were fierce, detailing every inch of her face, trailing down her legs and back up.

Her mouth dried up and she swallowed a ball of nerves. "Just taking a walk." Without waiting for his answer, she continued down the path to Cindermore.

Maybe she should have turned back—towards Town Hall, towards where the people were.

Darstan chuckled in her back, and followed her. She held her breath and kept looking at her boots. There was probably ten minutes left before she reached the village.

"Looks like you're going to Cindermore," he called behind. "Got business in the village?"

She didn't answer him. Hundreds of scenarios were now scrolling through her mind and she thought about which one was most likely to happen. She remembered quite clearly Yaxley telling them on their first day that the Death Eaters and Gamemasters couldn't harm or kill them.

Surely Darstan wouldn't try anything.

"You know your Trainer owes me a favour." The way he said the word sounded like an insult. Shaped like a scoff, filled with disdain.

"I don't care," she cut in. She shouldn't talk to him. But there was nothing she could do to make him go away. She had n no wand.

Darstan snatched her elbow, hard, and yanked her back. She gritted her teeth as his fingers dug into her skin. She kept one arm pressed against the book on her stomach.

He was crowding her space, cigarette dangling from his lips. "Actually, I think he owes me two. Wanna know why?"

"Let me go," she snapped coldly. She tried pulling her arm free—he didn't budge.

"First, because he made me stop the first game when he noticed that you were 'bout to lose." With his free hand, he pulled the cigarette out and exhaled a cloud of smoke in her face. She coughed and jerked her arm harder. "Second, because he made sure that no one could have ya at Christmas."

He tugged her closer, body flushed against hers, and leaned in her ear. "Sooner or later, Malfoy's gotta share." He seemed to realise that there was something between their bodies because he pulled back. "What'cha got there?"

Grabbing her wrist, he peeled her arm away from her stomach. She couldn't resist his strength. He knocked on the book cover against her uniform, the rectangular shape protruding right in front of her bellybutton.

"Mind if I peek?" His smile was snide as he quickly unzipped the front of her uniform. She gasped at the intrusion, but his hand was too quick. He pulled the warm book free, but still kept her wrist locked in his grip.

"I found it." She scrambled for an excuse. "You can keep it." She would try to explain to Narcissa later—she knew Draco's mother would understand what had happened.

After reading the cover, Darstan discarded the book on the ground, then threw his cigarette. "That's not what I wanna keep." Again, he pulled her to him, and his free hand circled her waist. "It's time to catch up on those favours."

A switch flicked in her mind and her body sparked alive. She drove her knee right between his legs, and he grunted, doubling over.

A loud, threatening bark tore through the grounds.

Keela was sprinting towards them at lightning speed. Hermione looked around, trying to spot Draco. He wasn't here. She stepped back when Keela arrived, scared that the dog would maybe pounce on her.

Instead, Keela stood right in front of her. Facing Darstan. Her ears were flattened on the top of her head, and the fur of her spine was rising. Hackles erected. Tail stiff like a sword. She was barking and growling menacingly at him, watching his every move.

Hermione had never seen her this way, and she held her breath. She was terrified of what Keela could do in such a state. Was she uncontrollable?

"Fucking vermin," Darstan spat, then looked at Hermione. "Think a doggy scares me?"

"Leave Malfoy alone," she answered. "He doesn't owe you anything."

"Oh yeah?"

She kept her eyes pinned on him and stayed behind Keela. Some of her confidence had come back, now that Draco's dog was here.

"If you ever touch me again," she said, and her tone was low, "I'll break your arm."

To punctuate her words, Keela growled, baring her teeth. Her body language was all tense, on high alert. She was ready for anything, ready to pounce. Hermione's body was running on thrills and fear.

Then, she saw him. Advancing, quiet like a cat, his tall and dark silhouette outlined against the horizon.

Keela growled and stepped to Darstan, biting the air in front of him. He reflexively stepped back, and cursed.

And because his pride had been jabbed, he quickly drew his wand. "Scum of the earth." His voice was drenched with poison as he pointed it at Keela.

"I don't fucking think so." Draco's hand slapped against his wrist from behind. In a quick motion, he twisted it so Darstan's arm was locked behind his back.

Darstan winced with the strain and raised his other hand, palm facing out. "Easy, easy."

"What were you going to do to my dog, huh?" Draco's voice was cold as metal, his eyes as dark as midnight. Just seeing him sent her heartbeat fluttering.

"N-Nothing." Darstan said lightly. "Just kidding around. You know."

Hermione noticed how scared he sounded, now that he didn't have the upper hand anymore.

Draco looked at Keela, detailed her body language, her tensed muscles, her bristling hair. Her ready-for-attack position. Then his eyes fell on Hermione, as he probed for a wound, a tear, a flinch of pain. His gaze slid to the front of her uniform—the unzipped front, showing her tank bra.

She hurried to zip it back up.

His features closed, eyes turning dangerous. His jaw flexed, and he pulled.

Darstan's arm broke with a sharp crack.

His scream split the air between them. Howling in pain, he scrambled away from them.

Draco remained eerily calm and still. "You know better than to touch the golden player." Then, he lifted his chin. "Fuck off, Darstan."

Darstan lumbered away, clutching his injured arm. Hermione watched him disappear, cloaked in the shade of the trees. The sun had set behind the western plains, smearing the sky with a honeyed, warm light. On the eastern side, the sky was already a dark shade of blue.

Draco delicately picked up the book on the ground, and Keela relaxed, watching both of them. Her ears were erected again, and she licked her lips.

Hermione exhaled a long breath. She couldn't relax her shoulders yet. The sight of Draco made her stomach pang with longing. He looked beautiful in this light, dressed in black—not navy.

He flicked his fingers in front of Keela's nose. "You're my good girl, Kee."

Keela hid her nose with her front paw, peeking up at him. And it was so comical that Hermione bit back a smile.

But Draco's eyes were serious, turning on her. "You shouldn't be out alone when the sun has set."

"I'm sorry." Her voice was squeaky, and she hated it. She worried that he was angry at her. Which wouldn't be dramatic at all because it was Malfoy and it was his second nature. But she also wanted him to be pleased with her.

He looked at her like she had just spoken a foreign, intelligible language. "You don't have to apologise to me, Granger." His tone was softer now, and he stepped closer to her, towering over her. "Did he touch you?"

She swallowed, searching for the right words to say. His smell was wrapping her body, and she simply wanted to curl against him.

The pause she took before answering told him enough, though.

Vehemently, he brushed his hair back. "I'll break his other fucking arm."

"Just the elbow," she blurted out. "He just touched my elbow. And took the book from… my uniform. I was taking it back to your mum."

He looked down at her and gently took her arm, the bone straight between them. "There's no part of you that he can touch." Slowly, he lowered his head and brought his mouth to the inside of her elbow, right where it bent. "Not even just an elbow."

Shivers ran down her spine, even if she couldn't feel his mouth on her skin. She remembered the length of his body on top of hers only last night. The reverence of his mouth exploring her body, dipping in all the right places.

"He said you owed him," she whispered.

He scoffed, lowering her arm. They didn't touch anymore, but their faces were inches across from each other. "I don't worry about Darstan. Although now he gave me a reason to."

"Pretty sure you can't go around breaking each other's arms in here," she frowned. She didn't care that Draco had done that, specifically—it was well-deserved. She worried about the consequences for Draco.

"He won't tell anyone what happened. He has way too much pride for that." His throat bobbed and he inhaled. "Don't worry about him, Granger."

She lingered in his eyes. "I worry about you."

The corner of a smile hinted at his lips. She wanted to kiss him. But they were outside, on a not-so-private path. Still, he brought the back of his index to her face, and stroked her cheek. Slowly, delicately. His touch was warm, and her skin tingled with excitement.

"What were you doing here?" she asked.

"I was just coming out of Town Hall. Keela smelled the air and sensed something. She took off and I didn't follow her right away. Though she was just doing dog stuff. Squirrels. Birds."

Hermione hummed.

"But she came for you." His eyes squinted slightly. "She loves you."

She scratched Keela's head, and the dog looked up at her, blinking lovingly. Hermione smiled. "I love her too. And she was absolutely terrifying."

"Yeah, she is," he nodded. "When she needs to be."

"Was she ever like that with you?"

"She was difficult at first. I don't think she liked me at first sight, but she still decided to follow me."

She was still looking at Keela, her thoughts scattered everywhere. "She sensed she could trust you, that you'd protect her. Dogs know that kind of things."

"I guess."

"Look at her now." She couldn't hide her smile. "She's all big, and she's an absolute simp for you."

When she glanced back at Draco, she noticed he was watching her closely. He looked in awe, or maybe captivated, and his eyes were dancing around her face.

"What?" she said.

He swallowed. "I don't remember the last time I've seen you smile. A real smile."

Blood rushed to her cheeks. She couldn't believe how schoolgirl he made her feel. The best course of action was to change the subject.

"Theo told me you had to help out in your old duties."

"They're already finding replacements, but I had assignments to hand out."

She frowned. "Do you know what will happen now? After what happened at the Ministry."

"The Dark Lord believes we can control the 'resistance' and still continue our operations here like nothing happened." His expression hardened. "He doesn't want the spectators to know."

"So he's sweeping it under the rug?"

"Looks like it. But they'll send more patrols out and reinforce the wards here."

She drew a quick breath, and the cold air flooded her lungs. The light was dimming, and the stars were starting to sparkle above their heads. There was a lot she wanted to tell him—about the book, the fireplaces, Viktor.

But this place and moment weren't right.

"We still have training tomorrow?" she murmured. His body was calling to her, like a magnet pulling her in. She wondered if he felt the same in this very instant.

"Yes. And Thursday, we'll have a fucking funeral." He scoffed deprecatingly. Before she could ask, he continued. "We lost a lot of people at the Ministry. We're having a ceremony."

She nodded and he raised the book to eye-level, shaking it. "I'll bring this back to mum." He suddenly leaned into her, bringing his mouth to her temple. "Now—" the tiny hair on her neck rose under his breath, "I'll tell you what will happen."

She held her breath, enthralled with his scent. Her arms were aching to wrap around him.

He took a deep inhale and grunted low. "I can't get enough of how you smell." He exhaled. "I'll get you back to the front of the castle because ain't no way you're walking that path in the dark."

"That's not nece—"

"Then, if you can wait an hour, meet me in the Room of Requirement. There's something I forgot on the couch."

Her breath caught in her throat as her blood swarmed with electrical jolts. "Maybe we should be more careful," she murmured. "I don't think we can—"

His hands grabbed her wrists, pinning them against her sides even though she wasn't moving. The falling darkness was shrouding them, concealing them from sight.

"Granger."

She knew she was right, though. Of course she wanted him. But surely other players or even Gamemasters must have noticed her frequent absences. Draco called her 'Granger' when he felt agitated. She didn't mind.

"I don't want you to get into trouble," she replied, voice soft.

"I can take care of myself." His thumbs stroked her wrist, right beneath the sleeves of her uniform. "Besides, I don't know if you've noticed, but people don't care that much."

That couldn't be possible. Her mouth opened to say so, but he cut her short. "As long as they think this is only physical, they won't care. They do it too."

One of his hands snaked behind her, cradling the back of her head. He angled her face toward his and dove into her eyes. And as she admired his hard but gracious features, the way his hair fell on his forehead, the perfect curve of his mouth, she felt a lot of physical things for him.

But the way he made her feel safe, the way he was broken just like her, the way he protected what he loved and the way he hated what was irrevocably wrong made her swell with feelings that were far from physical.

She smoothed the hair on the back of his head, and relished the warmth of his body seeping into her uniform. "A day without you was long."

He sighed against her, a long exhale, as his chest deflated. He bought his lips inches from hers."An hour will be even longer."