Natural light flooded the room when Hermione woke, a fog in her mind. What she felt first was the cold space in front of her that meant something warm had stayed there the whole night.

Keela.

She jolted, reaching for the cold sheets and blanket on her side. She had been sleeping on her stomach, and she noticed some drool on the pillow. Great. Blinking in the daylight, she tried to regain her bearings, collecting her thoughts and gathering the facts.

She'd spent the night in Malfoy's room, with Keela.

They were both gone.

Standing on Malfoy's desk was a piece of parchment folded in half. She scrambled out of the bed and reached for it. His writing was small, block letters with sharp angles.

Keela seems fine. I'm out to handle some things with Flint and the band.

Don't leave the room. Please.

The word 'please' was slightly misaligned, with a wider space in front of it and slightly below the sentence. He had finished writing and had come back to add 'please'.

What was she supposed to do? Wait in his room? What time was it?

The rest of her band was probably training at the moment, or they were about to. Would Malfoy tell them what had happened? She hoped Marcus Flint wouldn't give them hell. Would she be allowed to communicate with the rest of the players?

An insane idea crossed her mind, and her blood rushed to her head. She looked at her uniform. The number 41 was still there. What if they had removed her number and made her a… show pony of some sort? Or made the number glitter?

Of course she could leave the room if she wanted to. She definitely wasn't staying because he had asked her to.

She looked around the unsophisticated room. Figured it wouldn't hurt to look around, since there wasn't much to do. She opened the desk drawers, found some parchment and quills, empty vials, cufflinks and… a very small item in the corner. She never would have noticed it if she hadn't recognised its shape, its colour.

A suicide pill.

She rolled it between her index and her thumb, watching it. Wondering where he had found it or how it had come into his possession.

She placed it back.

Opened another drawer to find a small notebook with a red leather cover. She shouldn't take it. Should stop snooping. But if there was something he wouldn't want her to find, surely he wouldn't have left her in his room?

She took the notebook and opened it.

At first she didn't understand what she was looking at. It wasn't what she had expected, although she didn't know what she was expecting. A journal, maybe. In which case she would have closed it right away.

There were crossed names, numbers, dates, descriptions. It took a moment of analysing before she understood what it was.

A registry.

A registry of Malfoy's players—past and present.

It started in 2001, with a list of 16 names (numbers 17 to 32).

Eloise Midgen, #17—likes to say good morning to everyone

Dirk Griffins, #18—runs almost as fast as me

Amos Diggory, #19—called me Cedric once

Hermione's eyelids fluttered, then her eyes were dancing along the pages, trying to read everything at once. For each name, he noted one—only one—fact or comment. He didn't have the same number of players each year.

She searched for any familiar names, heart pounding against her ribcage.

She found Terry Boot (2002, #24, believes the earth is flat), Dennis Creevey (2002, #30, broke a leg when he was six), Angelina Johnson (2003, #34, never shows pain on her face), Padma Patil (2003, #35, not afraid to talk to me).

Her hand shook as she skimmed the pages to find her year—2004, Malfoy's third year as a trainer. She looked at each of their names. Only those who were dead had comments. She watched the ink curves ofhername.

Hermione Granger, #41—

Francine Podmore, #42—

Luke Keyes, #43—strong abdominals

Oliver Wood, #44—

Gabrielle Delacour, #45—she was too young

Ashley Brown, #46—allergic to Keela

Arthur Weasley, #47—

David Morales, #48—head in his ass

Laura Inkwell, #49—never complained once

Reine Mboni, #50—

Her breath trembled and she closed the notebook with a shut. It didn't feel like she had seen something she shouldn't have.

It felt like she should have seen this sooner.

A loud knock made her jump, and she threw the notebook into the drawer like it'd burn her.

If Malfoy was back, he wouldn't have knocked. She stayed silent, unsure of what to do.

"Granger, it's me." Theo's voice sounded muffled on the other side of the door.

The last time she had seen him was the night of the Aquarium—that was four or five days ago. As soon as she opened the door, he hurried inside. He had a large plate of food in his hand that he jammed against her chest until she took it from him.

Steaming eggs with chopped onions, potatoes, berries, and toasts.

"Eat up," he said, removing his Scavenger coat. He seemed out of breath, like he had just run a mile, and his cheeks were pink, probably wind-slapped.

"Erm—hi." She had so many questions. She closed the door and stood awkwardly, plate in hand.

Theo uncovered a fork from his pocket and gave it to her.

"Thank you?" she frowned, sitting on the bed with the plate on her knee. She started eating. It didn't taste like the usual players' breakfast. It tasted better—nutritious, and flavoured. "What are you—"

"I see you found the lists."

Hermione's heart spiked and some toast got wedged in her throat. She coughed. "I'm sorry?"

He pointed his chin toward the still-opened drawer.

Her cheeks reddened as she tried to come up with any excuse. "Erm, I just—"

"Relax, it's not a big secret," he smiled.

"What… What is it, exactly? I mean, I know what it is, but I don't understand."

He shrugged. "Everyone tells the Trainers to not humanise the players. To not even learn their names at all. Draco needed to do something to remind himself he was dealing with humans."

A knot formed in her throat. Theo frowned a little when he continued explaining.

"Every year, he told himself he wouldn't learn their names. In 2000, the year before he was officially a Trainer, he shadowed Carrow here and there. Learned all her players' names. I think he started to break once they were all getting killed one after the other."

He paused. "He drank a lot that year."

She kept listening, feeling he wasn't done.

"The year after that, when he was officially a Trainer, he told himself he wouldn't learn any names. But he hated himself even more when they died. He knew what he was doing was horrible."

"So he learned their names to keep his pain," she finished in a breath.

"To balance it out," he specified. "He contributes to the Empire, but in return he suffers. He wants to feel pain. Otherwise he would've turned mad." Theo half-scoffed. "He dealt with a lot of strangers, Granger. He's witnessed murders in his previous bands. Suicides. In 2002, his very last player made it to the last game. He really was rooting for her. And she lost. Now, he needs to remember their names. Everyone's names. And find at least one thing about them he could remember."

She nodded, but the flush in her cheeks was still hot. She felt out of place, and realised she never really knew him at all. She had been wrong to assume she did.

"You really seem to understand him," she remarked.

"Malfoy?" He made a pshh sound. "Depends."

"On what?"

His eyes became serious, falling on her. "On what's in his mind."

She took a berry with her fingers and ate it, not knowing how to answer that. She evaded his gaze. Should she tell him that Malfoy wasn't a Trainer anymore? Or at least, not an official Trainer? Should she tell him everything that had happened or should she let Malfoy do it? How would Theo react, knowing that Malfoy and Keela's life were now inherhands?

Undecided, she went in another direction. "Why are you here? Where were you?"

"Watford."

Her eyes flicked up to his with interest. "Watford?" she huffed. A flock of questions clogged her mind. Did Theo know that the Order was supposedly reforming in Watford?"Did you… What were you doing there?"

He crossed his feet, then looked at them for a while. The room was silent, and she couldn't eat another bite before knowing what he would say. "Did you know they were training ravens?" he asked, not lifting his head.

Hope sparked in her chest, almost painful. She put her half-eaten plate on the bed. "Who, Theo?" She knew who, but she wanted him to confirm it.

His eyes finally landed on hers. "The Order." Her chest fluttered. "Hagrid and Bill Weasley, actually."

"Who did you talk to? Who's there?" She pleaded with her eyes. "Are they okay?"

Theo looked at his hands and started counting on his fingers. "All the Weasleys except Ginny, Bill's pretty wife, Slughorn, Kingsley, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, McGonagall, Flitwick, Hagrid, Katie Bell, Parvati Patil…" He paused, trying to remember more. "That's all the names of those I know. But there were more. Way more. And Muggles too."

"Ginny and Neville aren't there?" Her eyes moisten.

Theo swallowed, throat bobbing. "Haven't seen them."

Where were they? Why hadn't the Order found them yet?

"How are they?" Her voice was throaty, and thicker. "Is everyone okay?"

"Yes. They're all worried about you. Hagrid is all over the place."

She thought of her old friend, wishing he could crush her in a bearhug. Thinking of Hagrid made her think of Harry and Ron. How Hagrid had always been there for the three of them.

She cleared her throat. "So you've talked to the Order? They didn't… ? They trust you?"

"They searched my memories." His brow twitched slightly, a tell-tale sign he hadn't been really comfortable with the situation. "But they saw. Who I am. It felt like a trial. They questioned me in a room. Considered keeping me prisoner. They voted. Decided I was an asset."

She nodded. "Do you… do you know if they have a plan? What have they been doing all this time?"

Theo drummed his fingers against his leg. "They've been trying to get into the Ministry. To the source of the fog."

"Why? What does it matter?"

"Slughorn thinks it's a potion, brewed with dark magic. He thinks that if he understands what it is or how it was made, they can manage a counter-curse of some sort."

"Were they successful?"

Theo rubbed his brows with his thumb and index. "Not really. Not yet. They've been trying for years. The Dark Lord warded off the Ministry pretty good. And it's guarded day and night." He paused for a few seconds. "I think they'll come here."

"You mean attack?"

"Yeah."

"Do you think another wave of fog will be released over the world again?"

Theo drew a sharp breath. "Good question. I should try and figure that out."

She turned back to her plate on the desk. She took another berry. "I'd like to help, somehow…"

"Granger, you're the one with a number on the back. You have enough on your plate." He sneered. "No pun intended."

She resumed eating and they stayed in silence. Her heart longed to see those people again. To help them. To be on the other side of those wards. She was useless, trapped in here, with her number.

"Do you think I could communicate with them?" she asked.

"You, directly? No. I could relay some messages if you'd like. But it's too risky to send missives in and out of the Empire. They can be easily intercepted. And they'd be hugely incriminating."

"Theo, are you—" She swallowed her food and looked at him. His Scavenger coat was dirty, and there were holes in the long sides of it, dropping down to the calves.

"What?"

"You're… with us, aren't you?"

He held her eyes, and something sharpened in his brown irises. "Yes."

"I trust you."

He frowned slightly. "Thank you. I know it's—"

"But answer me one thing." He waited, and she decided that it was all or nothing. That this was the moment she would make her choice. "Can I trust Draco?"

Nothing changed on Theo's face at first, but then his lips broke out in a smile. It looked endearing, really. "More than me, Granger. I would put my life in his hands any day."

She nodded. Okay, then. This was it. All remaining doubts scattered away, chased by Theo's confidence. She did trust Theo. Had trusted him since the Sorting Ceremony.

She was ready to stop acting like Draco was the one to hurt her. Deciding to trust him was taking control. She had to assume, trust and understand that everything he had told her was the truth.

Their unwavering eyes stayed on each other as they both remembered the Sorting Ceremony and everything that had unfolded. That day when Theo revealed his character.

"I never said thank you," she blurted out. "For that day."

"You never had to."

Hermione felt tears welling up her eyes. She didn't understand what was happening inside of her. It felt like something was melting and crystallizing all at once. Thinking about that day made her lungs tighten, like a snake around a prey.

Theo left a few minutes later.

When Draco came back to the room a little more than an hour later, Hermione had been sitting cross-legged on the bed, thinking about yesterday's events. Voldemort's deal. Her success in exchange for Draco and Keela's life.

Keela rushed in the room, claws clittering on the floor and she jumped on the bed, licking Hermione's face. "Hello," she greeted the dog. "Feeling better, aren't you?"

Draco had dark pockets under his eyes, and his features were drawn. He looked pale and exhausted, like a plant in the sun for too long. She couldn't peel her stare away from him, though. Flutters of nerves tickled her stomach when she realised all over again that she'd decided she trusted him.

That decision really did change everything.

His gaze stopped on her face, and he frowned. "Looks like you cried." He was still wearing his navy training uniform, moulding his muscles perfectly like always.

She wiped the skin under her eyes even though she knew there were no tears left. She watched him carefully, eyeing his posture, the slump of his shoulders, the broad plane of his chest.

"Did Theo bring your plate?" he asked, his eyes lingering a little longer.

She nodded. "Yes. Thanks." She tucked a piece of her hair behind her ears and stretched her legs in front of her. "So, Keela's okay?" She stroked the top of the animal's head.

"She has less energy but she's fine." Draco didn't provide much detail, his gaze had fallen on her legs. "I only came here to get you, actually."

"Where are we going?"

"Got a lot to talk about. Then we'll train."

Hermione rose from the bed, dusting off her uniform although it had been cleaned at midnight. "Is Theo coming?"

Draco's expression was unreadable. "Do you want him to come?"

"Erm—no, not in particular. I just thought he had to be there when we train."

"Things have changed, as we all learned yesterday." He opened the door and waited for her to go out first. Keela followed. The hallway was dark, and all of the other bedroom doors were closed.

They exited the dorms, stepping into the cold outdoors. Draco's strides were way longer than hers, and he slowed down so she could walk by his side. Keela was walking slowly, further ahead, tail skimming the ground. Their breaths gusted as white puffs in front of them. Hermione's hands got cold, and a shiver ran down her spine.

The shape of Hogwarts, its spikes and sharp angles, its curves and straight lines, came into focus, outlined against the cloudy sky. Players were running around it.

They made their way into the castle in complete silence. Only when they landed on the moving staircases did Hermione decide they could start talking.

"Did you sleep at all last night?" she asked.

Draco blinked three times, maybe to chase the fog in his mind. "No."

"I don't think we should train if you haven't slept." The ease with which she was able to talk to him like a friend surprised her. What surprised even more is the lack of shame or awkwardness.

But he didn't answer.

The staircase stopped at their destination. His lips stretched in a kind of smirk. "This is new." She looked at him, frowning, but he continued right away. "Your worry."

"I don't worry."

He didn't reply, but his smirk became more apparent. They walked on the seventh floor. Once inside the Room of Requirement, Keela darted for the couch. The Room was different from the last time she had been here. It basked in natural light coming from four high windows, above the wall of mirrors. On the far-right corner, there were… bookshelves. With actual books in it. There was a massive mahogany table with cushioned darkwood chairs.

The Room of Requirement looked more like a common room than a training place, except for the huge mats that remained in the centre.

Hermione gasped. "What is this?"

Draco said nothing about it, but she noticed some tension lifting off him as he entered the room. He opted for a seat at the table. There was a wooden tray with stacks of blank parchment, pots of various shades of ink and quills of various heights and shapes.

He gestured for the chair in front of him, and she sat. She would have sat without him inviting her to do so. Her eyes kept evading to the books on the bookshelves.

Draco placed his elbows on the table, and his head fell in his palms. He threaded his fingers in his hair, before rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hands. She had never seen him this tired and out of it. He looked like he had aged five years since last night.

She was about to tell him he should sleep but he spoke first, bleary-eyed.

"After yesterday's… meeting, the Dark Lord spoke with Yaxley and arranged the terms of our situation." He lowered his arms, palms flat on the table, and she was fascinated by the veins snaking down his forearms to his hands. "Technically, I'm still a Trainer, but you're my only player. Marcus Flint will be training my band, the remaining four of them excluding you. Normally, after the second game, some bands merge because they become too small. So Marcus will be a Trainer for just a few weeks. You won't be excluded entirely. You'll join them for every meal and sleep in your room as usual. You're still a player."

Hermione hadn't expected any different.

"Yaxley thinks that if you disappear entirely from the band and the rest of the players, that they'll turn on you. You won't appear like you're one of them, and they might do something about it."

"But I'm not the one that decided to train separately!"

He lifted his fingers in a soothing motion. "I know, Granger. But right now, you can't focus on them. Nothing will happen to you."

"You don't seem worried about any of it." She couldn't help but narrow her eyes at him.Merlin, how was it possible to be this handsome even with lacking sleep?

Draco replicated her frown. "What?"

"Your life is inmyhands," she explained, throat dry. "I have to impress everyone out there so you don't die. And Keela. Doesn't that worry you?"

His mouth closed in a thin line. "About that." He drew a long inhale, holding her eyes. "You said yesterday that you'll do anything it takes."

"Yes," she retorted, urge in both her eyes and voice. "Yes, I'll do everything to get better."

"Listen," he cut in, and his features turned serious at once. "I don't think you understand what will be expected of you at the second game." Her eyes flitted between both of his as he continued to watch her. The Fidelius Charm was obviously filtering his words, preventing him from being clear. His face was creased. "You'll fight… them." His mouth had shaped another word, but it was them that came out.

She didn't know who them were. The Gamemasters? The players? Creatures?

"I'm able to fight," she said. "I fought you. I fought Reine, Cho, and Anthony, and spiders, and—"

"Granger." He shook his head and his frown deepened, creasing his forehead. "It's the most violent game of all four. The audience goes absolutely bonkers over it."

Her stomach churned as another shiver crept up her spine, warming her nape and the entire back of her head. But he went on.

"I'm not able to describe what it is, but it's you or them. Violence at its finest, bones breaking, biting, tearing… If you don't have it in you to accomplish that, it won't matter how skilled you are at combat."

She was getting dizzy, her thoughts gathering right between her eyes, blooming in a headache. Gory images flashed through her mind, mixed with sounds of crushing bones and yells of pain. If the Empire's games were children's games, what game required that much violence? Her hands started shaking, and his eyes fell on them.

"See?" he uttered, voice low, like he was proving his point.

She swallowed. "I can't do that to them. To anybody." Considering them was referring to humans.

"I know."

"I… I think I death-sentenced you."

"I will train you still. I believe you can become very skilled. Learn how to use your size to your advantage." His tone didn't go down, as if he wasn't done. But he said nothing more for a moment. "And frankly—"

He stopped, and his eyes fluttered down on the table. "I don't think you have it in you. The game serves as a filter. To separate those who have lost themselves from those who would rather die than lose themselves."

"But if it's what it takes to save you and Keela…" She still tried to reason with herself. What was the alternative? If she didn't break bones, Draco and Keela would die.

"Nobody has the responsibility to save me." Now, his voice was sharper. "I won't let you lose yourself to save me."

Her lips quivered. That was probably one of the nicest things anyone had said, and the fact that it came out of Draco's mouth made her feel liquid.

"That's why we have a plan, but you'll hate it."

She blinked, words hovering on her tongue in anticipation. Who was this 'we'?

"Theo will polyjuice himself as you—" He kept talking, but she jumped on her feet, chair falling back with a thud.

"Absolutely not!" she exclaimed. This was worse than she thought.

"It's already decided—"

She pointed at him. "You said that this game was the most violent one, that there is biting and tearing! I won't let him do this."

"Granger—just listen. Sit, please."

She huffed, chest rising with adrenaline. It took a few heartbeats before she decided to grab her chair and set it upright, kept her arms crossed.

"Theo already knows how to knock someone unconscious in an instant. If he's lucky, he'll only have to fight..." His mouth clamped shut to drown the words and he grunted. "He'll stretch the fight, make it look like he's in control of it. He'll give a performance. He knows what to do. He'll—"

"No. I refuse."

"It's not up to you."

"It is. I won't let him use my appearance. He could get caught. And then all of us would die, including me."

Draco's face was deadpan. "He won't get caught."

"We can't let him do this."

"He suggested it, Granger. He came up with the idea."

"What? Why?"

"Because he did it once. When Pansy was a player."