"It's my fault," Hermione whispered, stroking Keela's fur with a feather's touch. She had provoked Voldemort, had been bold and now both of their fate was in her hands. Her brain couldn't process everything that had just happened.

The room still shivered with the ghosts of Keela's cries.

And Malfoy…

She had never seen him in such a state.

His massive figure was hunched over his dog, his arms framing her body, and his face was buried in her fur, right where she was caressing the dog. She resisted the maternal urge to stroke his hair too in a poor attempt to console him, but she did place her hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

She wasn't sure he was even aware of her presence.

She wondered if they had to leave. The room was empty.

Malfoy muttered something.

"What?" She leaned closer.

His head lifted, but he didn't look at her. "What will happen to her?"

She looked down at Keela. Her eyes were open and glassy, pleading and wet. An animal's pain was unbearable to look at. Her heart clenched and tears sprang to her eyes. "I-I don't know."

Malfoy peeled his body off his dog but remained on his knees. His face was blotchy, his eyes rimmed with red and fury when he looked at her.

"What do you know about Crucio used on animals?"

She hadn't expected the harshness of his voice—the undertone of accusation. She wiped the wetness from her eyes and blinked. "Nothing…"

"You haven't read a single thing about that in a fucking book?"

"Why do you—" She glared, mortified, but swallowed. "No!" She was powerless.

Useless.

Silence descended upon the three of them while they monitored Keela. Her breaths weren't so shallow and quick. She simply looked… .

"I…" She scratched her head gently."I think she needs rest. And time."

He didn't answer. Unconvinced, maybe, or dismissing.

"She would still be crying if she was hurting?" she added, unsure of her own theories. It seemed like the right thing to say.

"I'll bring her to my room." His voice was decisive, slicing through the air. It chilled her spine. "Come here, girl."

Instantly, he picked Keela up in his arms, not even struggling for a second. She let herself be carried, paws hanging limply, head resting on his elbow.

He wasn't telling her what to do, what to expect. Should she ask him? Should she go back to the castle? Her room would be locked but maybe she could sleep elsewhere. Maybe she shouldn't sleep. Maybe she should think about that deal she had just made.

Malfoy was already walking away.

It felt—

It felt like he blamed her.

Another reason to hate herself.

She had decided to go back to the castle by herself when Malfoy stopped right before exiting through the doors. He turned, face sideways, but not meeting her eyes. "Are you coming or not?"

She hurried after him.

They didn't exchange a word all the way back to his room. She wasn't concealed, even though there was no one roaming outside. It was right when she stepped through his threshold that the thought occurred to her.

She was in Malfoy's room.

With Malfoy.

She had opened the door for him, and closed it behind him. He carefully laid Keela on his bed and she remained there, although she looked sleepy. With a mechanical flick of his wand, he casted a silence spell around the room. Like it was part of his routine.

Then, as she stood awkwardly by the door, eyes on his back, he talked.

"Stop blaming yourself, Granger."

He was still not looking at her. Her head was swarming with apologies, guilt and terror. She didn't know a thing about Crucio used on animals. If the dog wasn't crying, was this a good sign? Or was this a sign that her metabolism was failing, or shutting down?

Malfoy continued as if he wasn't waiting for a reply. "You didn't even speak before he casted the curse.Italked back to him."

He didn't sound remorseful. He sounded venomous, like each word was carefully crafted before they came out. Slowly, she stepped around the bed to face him, and decided there was no better position than to lean on the wall.

Seeing that Keela's breathing was slowing down, the tension eased in the room. The room smelled slightly like dog, but it wasn't overpowering and it didn't bother her. She was used to animal natural smells with Crookshanks.

"It's still all because of me," she murmured, glancing at the ceiling. "And I don't mean it in a self-centric way." It was all starting to bubble up now. She felt waters rising, tumultuous and deep and boiling. "I didn't perform as expected, and you lost your training position and now you—"

"Do you even realise how fucked up their standards are?" He growled, but he wasn't being mean. She knew that. "Never in the seven years of this bullshit did they even acted like dumb fucks about bets and performance. Not even for—" He bit his lips.

"You can say it."

"Not even for Weasley. And he was Undesirable Number 1 at that time." His eyes were gleaming with anger. Pure, undeniable. "People lose their fucking minds over you." His cheeks reddened slightly after his words, but he shook his head.

She didn't know what to say. She really was a disappointing player. "I'm sorry…"

His features flashed. "I'm not blaming any of it on you! Don't you understand?"

"But you're angry."

This time, his gaze locked on hers. And the authenticity, the conviction, the rage contained in it was almost too much for her to hold.

"I'm angry, Granger, because he touched something that was fucking mine! Not only did he touch it, he almost killed her! I'm angry because they think that the success of this bullshit rests on your tiny fucking shoulders." She wanted to say something at this point, but he continued like a bullet train. "I'm angry because I want to bash his fucking skull on concrete but I think it wouldn't kill him and worst of all, I'm angry because you know how to kill him and you keep it to yourself."

"I don't—"

"Don't lie to me!" His voice roared, specks of spit shooting out of his mouth. Keela lifted her head in a jump. His traits automatically softened with guilt and he leaned on her. "I'm sorry, Kee. Sorry. Everything's fine."

The contrast between his anger and his softness gave her vertigo.

He kept stroking Keela, shushing, and Hermione tried to summon any form of courage she once had.

"I'm sorry because you're right," she said softly, throat constricted. "But you can't blame me for having trust issues. I'm trying to protect myself."

"This is bigger than you." His voice was even and low, and he stopped caressing his dog. He stood, planting himself in front of her.

His smell whirled around her and she lowered her eyes, trying to ignore the foreign need of being wrapped in this pair of arms.

"Even if after what you've seen tonight you can't believe the hatred I have for him, for all of it..." His sentence ended or maybe was interrupted, she wasn't sure. His eyelids fluttered shut, like he was thinking.

When his eyes opened again, the weight of it all bore into her. "If you're ready to trust just a speckle of my words, please listen." He paused, making sure he held her attention."I want him dead. I wish Numberland never existed. Granger—Hermione, please. I'm losing my fucking mind. I don't need you to trustme. I need you to trust that I hate him and that I will do everything I can to end him."

Hermione breathed. Held his stare. She knew this moment would come sooner or later. This choice she would have to make. Because itwasa choice. She knew she didn't trust him, at least not completely. And she knew that at some point, she would have to choose between letting go and fear.

He hated the games. She realised that now. He also hadn't even brought up the fact that Voldemort had taken away his band. He didn't care about that.

Didn't care about the bets.

About the money.

All the times he had barked orders at her, at them, it was simply to help them not get killed too fast. Or not get killed at all.

"I'm not even sure what or why I'm mad at you for," she muttered, delicately rubbing the bruises under her eyes.

Malfoy paused briefly. "Because it's easy." His tone made no suggestion.

"At school…" she sighed, feeling drab already. School was not important anymore. Their academic rivalry had only fuelled the mutual despise they showed each other. Besides, it was so long ago that it felt ancient. Like dusty books that she didn't want to wipe clean just because they had always been dusty.

"I never was a likeable person, Granger." His brows narrowed. "Especially in school."

She was trying to understand this grown-up Malfoy in front of her, with the posture and the sharpness of a man. Trying to associate him with the image she had of his youngest self, bony and cruel. Trying to push those two persons into one. Like opposite sides of magnets.

She couldn't. She had double vision.

Finally, she decided to stop beating about the bush. "So you don't think mudbloods are lesser than?" There. It was out. "I want the truth."

Challenging him to hold her stare, she waited for his response. She could practically see his mind working behind his focused stare. His eyes were ablaze, his chest rising and falling slowly.

He was thinking.

Only the fact that he was thinking about his answer meant that it wasn't black or white. That whatever was going to come out of his mouth wouldn't be a clear, sharpno.

Disappointment hit her.

His jaw clenched. "It's complicated," he said after what felt like minutes. He evaded her gaze.

"You say that about a lot of things. I'm starting to think you're saying it when you don't want to be honest."

He inhaled slowly, holding her eyes. She saw the cast of emotions filing on his face one after the other. Annoyance. Anger. Confusion. Weariness.

"I don't think you'll like my answer," he said.

Her heart clenched, bracing herself. "That's why I want to hear it."

"Very well." He swallowed, resolute. He squared his shoulders and took a new breath. "The question is large. Do I think that mudbloods are less of human beings than any other persons? No. Do I think that they don't deserve to be treated decently? No. Are they equal to any other human being, and should they have the same rights? Yes, and yes. The real question, Granger, is not what mudbloods are or deserve. It's why. Why does magic choose them even if they're born of Muggles? What makes them so special that they can access this kind of power without an ounce of magic in their heritage?" He paused briefly. "And by the way, we use this word so many fucking times that I tend to forget that it's offensive. I'm sorry I didn't say Muggleborns instead."

She listened to his every word, soaking them all in. Watching his lips and waiting for them to move again, she remained silent in case he wasn't done.

Then Understanding dawned on her, like a wave of light. A smile tugged at her lips without her authorization.

"What?" he drawled.

"You're jealous," she said, unable to erase the lightness in her voice.

"I'm not fucking—"

"You're jealous because magic chose me for some reason, a greater reason, other than blood and parentage."

"Don't get all holy."

She continued still, her train of thought unstoppable. "Of course it's not because of some greater reason, but it feels like it—at least to you. Magic is sacred to you, so it shouldn't mix with something unholy as muggle blood. And it shouldn't spark in something as… as rudimentary as a Muggle. But it does, and it drives you crazy. Because you think it means something."

Her eyes were wide and sparkling. Malfoy didn't think of her as not worthy of respect or not deserving of human rights. He didn't understand why magic had chosen her.

And she knew better than anyone the frustration of not being able to understand something. A major and recurrent source of frustration was bound to lead to hate. He didn't hate her. He didn't hate her,personally. He hated not understanding the magic in her veins.

Malfoy let a moment pass before he spoke. "Think you got me figured out?"

Still, the ember of relief within her wouldn't dim.

But the room cooled and his eyes darkened as he continued. "I just told you something complicated, something personal, and you fucking intellectualized it. Big-brained it like a difficult Potions homework."

What was happening?

"No, that's not..." Her sentence died in her throat. "I was just thinking out loud."

"See what I mean when I say it's complicated?" He gestured at the empty space between them, but already the sharpness of his eyes had lessened.

She wasn't angry. She wasn't annoyed.

She was tired, and she had to think about what had happened less than an hour ago.

"I can live with complicated," she murmured, lifting her eyes to meet his. "Can you?"

"I don't know any other way."

"Okay."

"Okay."

When Keela started to snore, their eyes flitted to her, sprawled on her side, closer to the edge. Her caramel and ebony fur was lustrous under the glow of the light. Malfoy stepped away and unrolled his sleeves. His knuckles were purple and battered.

Her eyes snagged on the veins cording his forearms.

"You should get some sleep," he said,

She evaded her eyes and stared at a crack in the wall, right above his shoulder. "I can sleep on a bench in the castle. Or maybe you can come unlock my room?"

He looked at her only briefly, muttering under his breath with snark, repeating her words as if he didn't believe them.

"You're ridiculous," he said, before removing his wand sheath from his thigh and the leather armbands from his biceps. "Sleep here. I don't mind."

She blinked, looking around the room. Failed to see the sleeping place he obviously thought of. "Where?"

"In the only bed in the room, Granger." He said it in an obvious way. "If you don't mind sleeping with a snoring and kinda stinky creature."

Her frown deepened. "But… you can't sleep on the floor. And there's no place for three—" She couldn't even fathom the idea of him climbing into bed with her.

"I won't sleep."

She didn't move, watching him. "Now you're being ridiculous."

"I have to watch Keela, make sure she's fine," he answered matter-of-factly. "I thinkshe looks okay but we can't be sure."

Her head nodded, even though her brain hadn't registered quite well the fact that she would sleep in Malfoy's bed. The fact that it didn't bother her.

"Are you sure you don't mind?" The frown creased on her forehead. "What about tomorrow? What if people see me exiting your room?"

"Tomorrow doesn't belong to us yet. Besides, I'm not a Trainer anymore."

Her blood spiked. "About that, I think we should discuss—"

"Granger." He finally stopped moving and looked at her, his features strained, like he was carrying the weight of the world. "Tomorrow."

She clamped her mouth shut and every thought dissipated, urging her to nestle in slumber and forget. Mechanically, she removed her boots, suddenly feeling self-conscious about her feet. Maybe they smelled. Maybe she stank of sweat. Midnight wasn't there yet, and her uniform wasn't clean.

She was about to tell him she preferred her room when he sighed. "Stop overthinking it. I won't make this creepy."

Hermione made her way on the other side of the bed and sat timidly on the edge. Keela was sleeping on a sand-coloured blanket. The mattress was thick and fluffy, although there was nothing grandiose about the bed. But it looked a thousand times better than the piece of cardboard on four legs in her own room.

She awkwardly leaned until she was on her side. Leaving a foot of space between her body and Keela's. When her head touched the pillow, her muscles relaxed. The soft fabric of the pillowcase on her face smelled likehim.It felt oddly familiar.

"You should treat your knuckles," she mumbled, already sleepy.

The lights in the room went off, and Malfoy lit a candle. He took the back of the chair and pushed it in the far corner, just beside the window. He settled on it, shrouded in darkness. One of his ankles was propped on top of his other knee.

Keela quivered in her sleep. Hermione decided she had the right to touch her. She reached out and gently stroked her back.

She had so much to think about.

Her tired eyes blinked back to Malfoy in the corner when she heard scratching. He was clutching a red notebook against his leg and he was writing.

"What are you doing?" she asked quietly in the candlelight. Her mind was drifting already.

His quill paused and his head shifted. She couldn't see him clearly, but she knew he was watching her. "Making a plan." His voice was low and placid. "So you survive the second game."

She swallowed, unsure what she should say. A minute passed before she spoke. "You know, I never pegged you for a dog person."

He scoffed softly. "I'm not. They smell, they drool, they shed, they whine. But Keela, she needed somebody. So I became what she needed me to be."

The scratching resumed and she fell asleep under a minute, wrapped around Malfoy's dog.