Scotland, Aberdeen—June 1999

The sun was warming Draco's back. The weather was warmer, it seemed, since the powerful fog wave last year. The yellowish fog still hovered in the cities, slow and hazy, making it impossible to be outside for more than an hour. Even with a covered face.

When Voldemort created the fog, he hadn't stopped beforehand to think of a practical solution for his Death Eaters to breathe outside. He had just done it, like a snap of his fingers.

Death Eaters had died, obviously. Especially those posted at the Ministry of Magic to guard the source of the fog. When their deaths were noticed, the Dark Lord discussed the issue with his followers.

In the end, the best solution they found was to coat a scarf with powerful filtering charms. And if that was the Empire's solution, that meant that the Wizards outside would figure it out too and survive.

Muggles wouldn't be so lucky.

Even with a charmed scarf around the nose, nobody could be outside for too long. The fog seeped in the fabric, into the pores and the clothes. Being exposed for more than an hour meant the collapse of the lungs.

Draco looked up, scanning the empty, destroyed street of a Redbridge neighbourhood. The collapsed houses. The cracked tarmac, split open like the mouth of the underworld. The muggle shops were empty, most of them destroyed by Death Eaters. Many had been looted by survivors, Scavengers or Rogues.

Even if Voldemort provided some food, shelter and wealth for his followers, some needed... more. Food wasn't a resource that Wizards could conjure out of thin air—they had to look for it. Most Death Eaters didn't hesitate to loot for supplies before destroying everything in their wake.

Draco had never looted. Until now, and only because mother wanted peaches to bake a cobbler. He could have told her that she should bake something else, but like his father had wanted a chocolate frog, he tried to find what his parents wanted. His father had died only a month ago.

There were no peaches in the Empire. The gardens grew vegetables and fruits of various kinds, but no peaches. So instead of roaming all of Scotland trying to find a peach orchard, he decided to go straight to the supermarkets.

Canned peaches would do.

He kept the scarf on his nose as he entered the darkened supermarket and walked through each aisle, crushing papers, pasta, and glass under his sole. The supermarket was part of a small mall, and even though the mall entrance had been destroyed, the shops inside were not collapsed.

They had been looted, however.

All that was left on the shelves were expired products, cartons of rotten milk in dead refrigerators, and frozen lunch boxes that he wouldn't dare sniff even if he was starving. Anything with a far-off expiry date was gone. Findings were rare.

Draco looked at the products, considered whether he should bring them back or not, and put them back where he found them.

The sound of a broken window echoed through the high ceilings of the supermarket, and he drew his wand at the speed of light, heart leaping in his chest. His coat flapped behind him like a wing. He secretly hoped it wasn't a Mudblood.

"Fuck!" swore the voice that Draco recognized at once.

He lowered his wand, sighed and walked out of the cereal aisle, heading for the entrance. "I was going to beat the bloody hell out of you," he barked at Theo.

Theodore had a red scarf around his nose. He rolled his eyes dramatically and kicked a rusty grocery trolley. They both wore the exact same black outfit. He hadn't had a haircut in a long time. His hazel hair fell in front of his eyes and curled at the nape of his neck.

"You thought I was one of them," Theo sneered, lowering his scarf. His face scrunched with disgust, and he pulled it up again.

Draco shrugged and turned his back on him, heading back to his alley. Theo stepped behind him.

"Haven't found any pistachios yet," he shot above his shoulder. "In case you were wondering."

He crouched down in front of the last shelf, put his palms flat against the floor and leaned over to look into the dark bottom of the shelf. One can of diced tomatoes. He grunted, but grabbed it anyway and placed it on a higher shelf, easily in view and within reach of anyone.

Theo followed his moves with his eyes without saying anything, until he decided to speak. "What are you doing?"

Draco gave him an annoyed look. "I'm looking for peaches."

"Did you say peaches or players?"

Draco rolled his eyes, but continued his progress through the shelves, bending down regularly to see if there was any stock left.

"Mum is baking a cobbler," he replied simply.

"So you're not looking for players."

There was a silence, in which Draco continued to find useless or unneeded products and replace them back on reachable shelves. Finding players was a fucking pain in the arse that Draco did anyway. He always ended up finding one or two each week, which was not bad statistics considering most survivors were hiding.

Theo cleared his throat. "Actually, my question was what are you doing right now."

"I'm looking for peaches."

"Malfoy, you little shit! Why are you putting everything back on the middle shelf?"

Draco switched aisles and found himself in the grain and rice aisle, refusing to look his friend in the eye.

"People are starving," he replied bitterly. "I'm just trying to make things easier."

Theo pursed his lips and took a bag of chopped coriander in his hands, detailing it as if it was a fascinating treasure.

"We're not going to save the world," he replied. "Never, I think."

Draco swallowed, trying to forget the way the survivors looked at him when he captured them last week. "I fucking hate this," he said in a breath.

Together, for several silent minutes, they walked down each aisle, looking at all the shelves. No canned peaches. Eventually, they found themselves at a small counter near the tills on which lay sunglasses, necklaces, watches and hair ties. Draco didn't know exactly how muggle tills worked.

He grabbed a pack of hair ties and threw it at Theo, who caught it deftly.

"You'll need these soon," he said, then proceeded to examine the watches.

Theo shrugged, and snatched a hair tie off. Clenching his wand between his teeth, he pulled the upper half of his hair on top of his head and tied the elastic. Now, if he shook his head, his hair no longer fell in front of his eyes.

"How do I look?" he asked.

Draco gave him a quick glance and smirked. "Ridiculous."

"Perfect." Theo looked at his pocket watch. "Is your assignment done soon?"

"Not quite. Got the rest of the neighbourhood to scour."

"Ready to be a High Scavenger?"

Draco scoffed. "Only to give you the worst assignments, yeah."

Theo made a pshh sound. "They'll ask you eventually to be a Trainer, you know."

He slid his tongue over his teeth, stepping around the counter to kneel behind it, disappearing from his friend's view. "I know."

"You're gonna say yes?"

"Probably." He looked down and busied himself examining the dirty surface he'd laid his hands on. Packets of chewing gum lay next to the heavy looking till.

Theo stood on his feet, a few feet from the counter. "I wonder if everything is going to come back like it used to be."

Draco sneezed loudly into his elbow. Fucking dust. "It'll take time. And even if the buildings are fixed, even if the bridges are rebuilt, do you know how to get electricity flowing back everywhere?"

"No. But they could manage with solar energy."

Draco pretended he knew what he was talking about. "Forget that. And do you know how to stop the fog, how to shut down the Empire?"

"I get it," Theo sighed. "Bye-bye fucking normal world." He scratched at the corner of his eye. "I gotta get back. See you later?"

"Probably."

Theo left without either of them saying goodbye. Draco left the counter and headed for the second counter. Instead of going around it, he climbed over and slid his legs over to the other side. Here, on the floor, there were muggle coins scattered all over.

"Useless rubbish," he muttered as he knelt to pick one up.

As he bent down, however, a bark startled him. He lost his balance and fell on his backside, heart pounding. He cursed low under his breath.

A German shepherd pup, lying under the counter on a flattened cardboard box, was staring at him steadily, lips curled up, growling. But it was so young that its growls were high-pitched and funny. The tiny animal jerked to its feet, alert, and tried to look threatening again.

Draco wasn't scared, but he didn't want to be bitten, even by a pup. Or worse, he didn't want the pup to alert its mother—who would certainly shred him to pieces.

Where was its mother?

He stopped moving, keeping his eyes locked on it, ready to draw his wand. He didn't care very much for animals, but he didn't hate them either.

Maybe he should simply throw a quick muting spell.

He reached very slowly into his coat pocket where he kept his weapon, and the animal growled louder. "Easy," he whispered, raising his palm to the animal. "Easy…"

The dog barked, one sharp sound, ears flattened on its skull. Its lips were still curled, a high-pitched snarl in its throat.

"I won't hurt you," he lied, reaching for his wand again. All he had to do was throw a spell. A sleeping spell would be better. It wouldn't hurt, and the animal wouldn't follow him.

Slowly, he drew his wand, but as soon as the dog saw the piece of wood emerge from the coat, it whimpered and its tail swooped between its hind legs. It backed away, looking frightened, and went crawling back under the counter, desperately seeking shelter.

Something inside Draco cracked. Was this guilt?

"You're afraid of wands?" he said.

He put his wand away and knelt. The dog looked at him with pleading eyes, as if it had suddenly realised which one of them held the upper hand. Draco could read a troubling conviction in the dog's eyes—it did not want to die.

He reached out to the puppy and, without touching it, let it sniff his fingertips. "I swear, I don't want to hurt you," he said. "Except if you bite my fucking hand off. Please don't bite my fucking hand off. Have you been here all this time?"

The dog licked its lips and sneezed, earning a smile from him. "I know, it's dusty here."

He moved a little closer and tried reaching his arm to it. The pup retreated with fear and Draco pulled back his hand.

"I understand if you don't trust me."

The animal kept looking up at him, blinking. Expecting pain to come.

"I'm sure you're a good boy," he said in a stupid voice he didn't recognize. That hadneverhappened to him before. "Are you alone here?" He bent down to examine the animal more closely and looked back into its eyes. "Sorry, lady, I believe?"

He stood up and looked at the pup on the ground, unsure of what to do.

He shrugged and went back to the aisles. Now they had met, the dog wasn't a danger, and he would happily leave it alone. As long as the mother wouldn't appear.

However, he heard the animal's claws click on the floor behind him. He swivelled back. The German shepherd had left the shelter of the counter and was following him from a distance.

He looked around. "Do you belong to someone?"

The puppy remained still, twenty feet away. Dracp went back to an aisle he had already combed.

Then, the dog whined. The sound was so shrill and sad that Draco couldn't describe it any other way than crying. His heart painfully jammed in his ribcage.

"What do you want?" he asked, annoyed.

The dog whined again, expecting something.

"I don't know what you want!"

She simply stared at him with sad, fearful eyes. Like he was her lifeline. Her ray of hope. A chicken leg.

"You're hungry?" he guessed. He returned to an aisle to pick up a can of beans he had found and placed on a shelf. "Not sure what you should be eating, but I think you might like this?"

He quickly went to the aisle with various cleaning supplies and platters, and grabbed a plastic bowl. He sat down on the floor, and the dog imitated him, sitting down, now ten feet away from him.

He looked at the can of beans in his hands and the bowl, thinking, before looking up at the animal. "Look, I'm going to have to get my wand out to open this. I swear I won't hurt you. You don't have to be afraid."

The pup licked her lips and Draco slowly began pulling out his wand. As he suspected, the animal let out a frightened whimper and ran off down the aisle.

"It's all right," he reassured her in a cheerful voice. "Look, I'll open the can."

He performed a spell that cut the lid off and immediately put his wand away. He poured the entire contents of the can into the bowl and raised both hands in the air, looking at her.

"See? Everything's fine!"

She did not move, still standing and on guard, ears flattened back. But she was so bloody adorable, he wanted to bury his face into her small body.

It occurred to him that he had never met anything cute before. Maybe he did, but he didn't remember feeling this way. This funny feeling that was both soft, warm and idiotic.

Maybe because the world didn't hold anything cute in it anymore.

Except this dog.

"Come on," he encouraged, slapping his knee. "Come on now, don't be stupid."

She blinked and straightened her now erect ears, and barked twice.

"I promise I won't hurt you," he sighed. "I just want you to eat."

She barked again.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Stupid pup," he muttered through his teeth. He grabbed the bowl and showed it to her. "I swear it's good!"

His impatience grew. He looked behind him to make sure no one was there, and smacked his lips, making smooches in the air to entice her.

The dog sat down, and hid her nose with one of her paws.

"What, you want me to dance?" Draco grumbled as he set the bowl down noisily. "Look, do you really want to know if it's good?"

He dug two fingers into the gooey bean mixture and scooped up the food, before shoving it in his mouth. He chewed disdainfully, ignoring the bland texture of the beans, but mimicked an expression of pure relish.

"If you don't come, I'm going to eat it all," he warned, preparing to stick his fingers into the bowl again.

At last, she yelped and came running to him.

"Good girl!" he cried.

She dove into the bowl and began to eat hungrily. He tentatively reached for her again and succeeded in stroking her spine. She was stinky and her fur was matted with dirt, but she was warm.

"You see?" he muttered. "This isn't so bad."

He didn't want to exploit her trust, so he stopped petting her and wrapped his arms around his legs. He didn't really want to leave her alone in this deserted supermarket, but he didn't know if he should take full responsibility for her. If she had a mother, she would have showed up. Right?

In the end, he knew that if he brought her back, there was a good chance that Nagini would swallow her whole and alive.

With a pang to his heart, he sighed and stood while she was still eating. Those beans would help her hold on for a little while. Focused on her food, she didn't even lift her head as he walked away.

He exited the supermarket quietly, not sure why he felt this uncomfortable and frustrated. A dog in the Empire wouldn't be happy. Besides, he knew nothing about dogs. They pooped, they smelled, they barked, and they tore pillows to shreds. He didn't know the first thing about how much to feed, train or bathe one.

A bloody dog was the last thing he needed.

He didn't want the plop of Disapparition spooking the dog, so he silently walked out of the supermarket. He was a few feet away from the entrance when he heard it.

A loud, short bark.

Like a question.

Then the patter of her tiny paws. The click of her claws.

He kept walking, not looking behind.

Another bark, louder. A statement.

He couldn't look at her. She wasn't his responsibility.

The clicking stopped. The cries started.

Draco stopped, a chill in his spine. And before he could talk himself out of it, he cussed and swivelled back.

The pup was standing in the middle of the mall, looking so small it hurt him. He walked back to her and crouched. He picked her up and tucked her in his arms. She weighed nothing.

"I'll tell you how it's gonna go," he said, starting to walk again. "We'll find proper dog food, and we'll do something about that smell." She huffed and sneezed, and her tiny tail wagged behind, smacking quickly against his back. "Then we'll find you a name."

No, he didn't need a dog. But the dog needed him, and that mattered, because nobody else needed him.

Hermione worked on her climbing speed for the next week. After two unsuccessful attempts to reach the lowest branch of the pine, Reine told her, from a tree nearby, to choose another tree. Even if she managed to climb the first half of the tree very fast, she slowed down considerably in the second half. First, because it was higher and the entire Forest was spinning in her vision. Second, because the branches were way smaller and feeble. They could snap under her weight.

Draco wasn't doing much during the climbing sessions. Mostly, he barked advice disguised as orders at them—put your feet there! You can go faster than this! Wrap your whole hand around the branch, not just two fingers!

And when Arthur lost his grip, more than 30 feet in the air, and fell from above, Draco unsheathed his wand with lightning speed and cushioned his fall with a spell.

Hermione was enormously grateful for his action, although she knew he shouldn't have done that. Because now, Wade was throwing daggers with his eyes at him.

In the afternoon, Draco was making them do exercises very much similar to those they had done for the first game training. The Board. Push-ups. Pull-ups. Squats. For the last hour, he paired them up so they could spar. Rathmore always let them choose their partner, but Draco knew better.

He knew that Wade wanted her dead.

In the two weeks since they had started the third game training, he had paired her with everyone except number 6. Until yesterday, when she had told him to pair her with him.

"No fucking way," he had said.

"He knows what you're doing."

"I don't care." He was sitting at his desk, nose in a book and she was watching his back.

She threw his pillow at his back. "You'll only make it worse! Besides, he will not attempt anything during training. Not under everyone's eyes."

He turned around, and his face was contorted with both worry and anger. They argued for ten minutes straight. Until he muttered a poisonous fine under his breath. An hour later, they were moaning each other's names.

Spending time with Draco was easy. The more time they spent together, the more at ease she felt. The less she questioned what This was. Discussing various topics with him, arguing, quipping, kissing and sharing thoughts with him were the most natural, unforced and carefree she had felt in all her life.

She learned that Draco was not only a divine, gorgeous partner in bed, he was a good listener. Although he snapped sometimes when she annoyed him, he craved her opinion. He apologised when he was too harsh and he alwaysaskedbefore doing something new to her. He thought before answering. He spoke softly of his mother, he smiled when he spoke of Theo, he washed and fed Keela with care and he always, always made sure that Hermione was the first to fall asleep.

Sometimes, when she awoke in the middle of the night, coated in sweat, she burst into tears. She could still hear the screams of number 7 and number 25 in her head, still hear the distinct loud crunch of their bones. And Draco sheltered her quivering body in his arms, shushing and whispering sweet things, until her tears dried and she fell back into slumber.

"Number 47 and 10." Draco pointed at the players in the Spar I room. "Number 50 and 3. Number 41 and 6." His eyes were grave on her as he followed her movement.

She slowly walked to Wade's mat. Everyone else was looking at them.

Wade snickered, his gaze prowling over her.

She remembered quite clearly what she had told Draco last night. Don't do anything unless he's clearly trying to kill me. That means, do not intervene if he lands a punch. I can take it.

Draco drew a long inhale and clasped his hands behind his back, straightening his posture. "I want everyone to focus on blocking their face and their most vulnerable spots." He was addressing the whole room, his Trainer voice booming with command. "That means the eyes, the throat, and the temples. The groin too."

Wade cracked his knuckles and she rolled her eyes. Really?

She took her stance, feet planted hip-width apart on the mat. The best course of action was simply to dodge and avoid his punches as much as possible. He wasn't much taller than her, but he pounced on her with the force of a cannon.

He rammed his fist in her ribs and she twisted out of his reach, clenching her jaw under the sting of her bruised flank. Wade growled low in his throat, lunging again in a desperate attempt to land anything that could be remotely painful.

She focused on blocking his attacks. Her bones rattled every time she slammed her arm or her leg against his bulging, hard muscles.

He was vicious and unrelentless, his moves erratic and savage like a beast. She absorbed the impact of his titanic strikes after strikes after kicks, until, when the breath was knocked out of her, he grabbed her by the collar of her uniform.

And head-butted her square on the face in the most brutal way.

Sounds, smells, colours and dimensions exploded in her head as her mind cleaved open. Something warm and liquid trickled down her chin as her vision blinked with white, pounding spots.

She coughed and spat something small out of her mouth.

Her tongue found a slimy void right in the upper row of teeth.

Then she buckled and she fell on her hands and knees. Voices were shouting around her, swirling and distorting, as she breathed in and out through the flares of pain, crashing on her one after the other. Endlessly.

She couldn't move.

Her ears were ringing. Blood rushed through her head.

Pain pulsed through her neck, the base of her skull, like a heartbeat.

There were hands on her back.

And the world kept spinning. And spinning. And spinning.

Until, after a morsel of eternity, clarity flooded back to her mind.

She peeled her forehead back from the mat and slowly straightened up. She had left a pool of dark blood mixed with saliva on the mat.

Draco's hand was on her back, easing her up. "They left," he whispered. His eyes were alarmingly roaming over face.

His other hand reached to her face, pinching her chin with his thumb and forefinger to inspect the damage. "I'll fucking kill him." He was shaking with anger.

"Don't," she croaked. Her tongue automatically settled in the hole of her missing tooth. Her head was still throbbing. Keela was standing right behind him, watching her with anxious eyes.

"I think your nose is broken again." He was carefully wiping the blood off her face with the sleeve of his uniform. "He got both your nose and your mouth. Can you follow my fingers?"

He raised two fingers and dragged them horizontally in front of her eyes. She trailed his movement.

"I'm fine," she huffed out, wincing. She spoke with different mimics, trying not to show her teeth and conceal the hole. From what she could tell, the missing tooth was on the left side, the one right next to her front teeth.

"Just making sure you're not concussed."

"I knew something like this would happen." She looked around her, trying to spot her tooth. Her jaw was aching and she wondered how on earth did Wade's forehead manage to break her noseandmake her lose a tooth.

Draco's mouth pursed in a thin, harsh line. His traits were stiff, violence simmering beneath his skin. "You say the word, and he's dead, Granger." His voice was rough like stone, low like an anchor.

She shook her head, which sent a wave of pain breaking on her.

"Fine," he said coldly.

He helped her on her feet, and lifted his index and thumb in front of him. He was squeezing her tooth between his fingers.

Heat rushed to her cheeks. Embarrassment.

He took her palm and delicately pressed her tooth inside of it. "The Healers won't fix something as trivial as a tooth. Keep it, and I'll try to learn something to fix it."

"You don't—"

"I'll fix it, Granger." He was commanding again. "Stay in your room this afternoon. I'll bring a potion for the pain. If I can't fix your tooth, Mother will."

He left the room quickly and she stayed still for a minute. Groggily, she left the room.

Reine peeled herself off the wall and faced her. No doubt she had heard—or maybe seen—everything.

"That man is head over heels for you," she commented, frowning.

Hermione didn't have the strength to find a stupid excuse. "Maybe," she sighed. The truth was easier to hide—that she was way more head over heels for him.

Reine slid to her side and grabbed her shoulder to steady her. Together, they climbed to the fifth floor. Hermione laid flat on her cot, closing her eyes, and Reine sat at her side. Her tooth was clutched in her fist.

She dozed off a few times, but Reine kept shaking her up, softly. "Do not sleep," she repeated. "Stay awake until the Trainer comes back."

Minutes, or maybe an hour, passed. Reine was sitting on the floor, her head resting against the side of the cot.

"Hermione?" she said to the window.

Hermione liked how she pronounced her name."Yes?"

"You really do not know what happened to David?"

Thinking of David made her think of the first game. Of how he had rammed his body against hers to break her run. Of how the running players got eliminated like puppets crumpling in a heap.

"I don't," she answered honestly, sighing.

They kept silent for a while, and Reine drummed her fingers on her knees. Hermione listened absently to the faint rhythm, eyes trained on the ceiling.

Then Reine stopped.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"There is a bird at your window."

Hermione sat up suddenly, and her vision blurred again, mind scattering in thousands of directions. She clutched at her head, willing the nausea to subside.

Then she looked at her window, and air squeezed out of her lungs.

There was a raven right behind the glass, perched on the stone.