The journey back down in the elevator was grim, the atmosphere thick with horror and disbelief at what had just occurred.

Luna and I both stood side by side in stunned silence as we surveyed the 'team' around us.

Parvati and Padma wept quietly as they comforted each other. I couldn't even look at Ron who was sobbing heavily in Hermione's arms. Harry was casually polishing his glasses on the sleeve of his blood stained tracksuit, and Dumbledore was smiling serenely, as though he'd simply just got some onerous task out of the way. And then there was Nico, who was leaning languidly against the wall, lighting up a cigarette, earning himself a scornful glare from Katie Bell.

"What?" Nico sneered, blowing a puff of smoke in her face. "Worried you might die of secondhand smoke inhalation? Call the guards. Make a complaint."

Katie just wrinkled her nose and looked away, her face stricken with grief at having witnessed her old Quidditch teammates plummet to their deaths.

When we arrived back in the dormitory, it was to find the beds had halved in numbers once again, the Niffler bank nearly full, and only forty players left in the game.

Forty. Out of four hundred and fifty-six.

I headed straight for my bunk, not wanting to talk, look or interact with anyone.

There, I spent the rest of the day curled up into a tight ball as I tried to ignore the gut wrenching sound of Ron's continued sobbing. I was lost, there was no way back. If I didn't win this game, I would die. If I did win it, I would die inside myself anyway.

There was no escape.

When a hand tentatively touched my shoulder, I closed my eyes tighter, trying to stem the pain that was engulfing every part of me. I couldn't un-see Bill's face as he toppled over the edge, couldn't un-hear Alicia's scream as she collided to her death.

"Ali, please-" Parvati's voice whispered urgently in my ear, "-we've got to do everything we can to survive."

I stiffened, wanting her to go away. I was terrified to look at her after what we did. I was terrified to look at anyone else I loved in there. What was the fucking point anymore? Because I knew no one was getting out of there except the winner.

Clearly realising it was no use trying to get me to talk, Parvati gave up and walked away. As her footsteps faded, I could hear another set approach.

"Alia?"

"Go away, Malfoy," I muttered, my voice muffled as I curled myself up tighter. "I'm not in the mood for the I told you so."

A heavy sigh. "That's not why I'm here. I just want to make sure you're okay."

I gave a loud scoff as I finally lifted my head to look at him. "Okay? We killed people. We literally just dragged them to their deaths. And all I can think about is how horrifying those last moments must have been for them. What do you think went through their minds? Bill and Alicia both have children at home waiting for them, for fuck's sake."

Draco flinched. "It's probably best not to think about that shit too much. If you're going to survive-"

"I couldn't give a tiny rat's arse if the next game kills me. What kind of life will the winner have out there, anyway?"

"A rich one?"

My mouth fell open. "Seriously, Malfoy, aren't you loaded enough?"

Exhaling a long puff of air, Draco lowered himself down on the edge of my bed, his hand reaching out, as though he were about to take mine. But, after a moment's hesitation, he swiftly withdrew it and drove it through his hair instead.

"Like I said," he muttered stiffly. "Things were tough out there."

"I thought living with the rats in the sewers was the worst thing in the world before I arrived here." I laughed bitterly.

"You came back, though," Draco pointed out, "even after you found out what the stakes were. You and almost everyone else. What's so different now?"

"Are you fucking kidding me? They literally made out that we had a choice to survive this game. 'Don't break the rules and you'll walk out alive'. How was today about that? They knew half the players would be killed before the game had even begun. That's not a choice, that's a death sentence!"

My heart was racing, my lungs turning to iron. I suddenly felt as though I couldn't breathe and was convinced I was going to choke to death. I began to grapple at my throat, panicked.

"Alia?" Draco frowned, scooting closer to me. "What is it?"

"I can't- I can't breathe-"

"You can, it's just a panic attack. Just try and stay calm."

I wanted to smack him upside his head. Stay calm? How the fuck could anyone stay calm after what we'd been subjected to?

"Here," he said when I didn't respond, "lean forward and put your head between your knees."

He began to coax me to the edge of the bed, and I obliged, solely because I didn't know what else to do.

"I- I can't bear to look at anyone in here," I gasped between strangled breaths as I felt Draco's hand rub soothingly between my shoulder blades. "I can't bear to see the look of loss and grief in their eyes, or knowing that tomorrow they, or I, might die."

"Look at me, Alia," he murmured softly, "I promise you, you won't see it in my eyes."

Lifting my head, I angled my face towards him, the glint in his warm grey eyes instantly easing the steeliness in my chest.

Before I knew what was happening, he pulled me against him, holding me fiercely in his arms. I could hear his heart pounding steadily, the strength of his embrace oddly reassuring. And I realised no one had ever held me quite like this before. And not only that, I needed it more than ever in that moment.

So, it was to no surprise when I found myself back in the bathroom stall with him later that night, our tracksuits abandoned messily across the floor as we furiously kissed, desperate to once again escape into the sordid pits of ecstasy.

"We shouldn't be doing this-" I gasped, as he dragged his mouth away from mine, his lips making a bruising path of kisses down my jaw until he reached my throat, hungrily nipping and sucking at the sweet spot below my ear.

"Yes we should," he murmured hoarsely between kisses, the vibrations of his lips against my neck causing the wet skin beneath to erupt in a smattering of goosebumps. "Especially when it feels this fucking good."

"Oh... fuck-" I panted as he slammed me against the stall wall and pinned himself between my legs.

I clung my arms around his neck as he continued to devour me, his fingers urgently tugging at our underwear as he removed himself and began to push into me, a longing groan vibrating at the back of his throat as he filled me up with one hard urgent thrust.

The back of my head slammed repeatedly against the wall as Draco fucked me hard and fast, his fingers gripping my arse cheeks so tight, no doubt leaving a row of purple bruises in their wake.

We both came hard again, muffling our moans into each other's mouths as our orgasms rushed violently through us, the echo of our grunts reverberating off the walls.

Coming to a sweaty, shaky still, Draco rested his forehead down on my shoulder, breathing hard. Our hearts beat furiously beneath our heavily rising and falling chests as we waited for our bodies to recover.

"This feels wrong," I murmured once the gasping had calmed down, breaking the silence. "Especially after- especially after..."

I tailed off and felt my stomach give a horrific lurch as I pictured Bill's face before he fell.

"Don't-" Draco demanded, his voice seething and sharp as he lifted his head off my shoulder. "Just... don't."

Letting one hand go of my backside, he reached up to clasp my chin and tilted up my face, forcing me to look at him. Our eyes locked, his pupils still dilated with lust.

I suppressed a sob, trying to stem the grief in my heart.

"I hate this," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I hate this so much."

Draco's face instantly softened, and he leant in to gently brush his lips against mine. "I know," he murmured hoarsely, "I know."

After we dressed, he removed a pouch of tobacco from his tracksuit pocket and began to expertly roll a cigarette. I just stood and watched him, reluctant to return to the misery of the dormitory.

After the first toke, he threw his head back and blew out a plume of smoke, offering it out to me.

Shrugging, I accepted, and we sat side by side on the floor of the cramped stall, leaning our backs against the wall as we shared a cigarette.

"What will you do if you win the money?" He asked, his arm pressing against mine, "besides from paying off your debts?"

"I want to find my parents." I said without missing a beat. "They were sent back to India. Banished... actually. I haven't seen them in four years."

Draco turned his head towards me. I could feel his burning gaze as he studied me, but I remained looking ahead, pulling hard on the cigarette at my lips.

"I'm sorry," he murmured quietly. "If it's any consolation, I miss my mother, too."

I felt an unexpected lump form in my throat. The thought of never see my loved ones again felt like a pain I could not even bear. I just could not imagine what it was like for Draco, knowing no amount of money would ever bring his mother back.

I searched my mind for something comforting to say. But what could you say to someone who has suffered such a loss? "She was very brave, your mother, for what she did."

I inwardly cringed at my words. They sounded feeble and insincere. Especially in the circumstances.

I felt him stiffen next to me. "I wish she hadn't. What good did it do? Potter still got captured in the end and she ended up paying the ultimate price for her betrayal."

A profound silence followed as we continued to pass the cigarette.

"Why are you here?" I asked for what seemed like the thousandth time, this time my question full of genuine sincerity. Because I needed to know, I needed to know more about the people we were competing against with our lives.

I looked at him expectantly as I passed him back the cigarette. When our hands touched, he stilled, before briefly caressing my fingers with his, his eyes burning ardently into mine.

The tip of his tongue darted out and swept his upper lip. "It doesn't matter why I'm here. What matters is getting out alive."

Ugh. He was so frustrating. I couldn't help but roll my eyes as I drew back my hand and looked away, leaning my head back heavily against the wall.

"Tell me, Alia," he murmured, "what is your favourite colour?"

I quickly glanced back at him, raising my eyebrows as a bubble of laughter rose in my throat. "What kind of question is that?"

"I just want to know more about you," he shrugged, taking a deep drag on the cigarette. "So why not start with the basics?"

"Okay, then. It's blue."

He let out a loud, derisive snort.

"What?" I asked, feeling a flicker of annoyance. He was the one asking such fucking mundane questions.

"Boring and predictable," he drawled condescendingly, "You're a Ravenclaw. Of course you'd say blue."

"Then why fucking ask? And besides, are you telling me that green isn't your favourite colour?"

"It isn't." A smug smirk played at his lips.

"What is it, then?" I couldn't help but scoff. "Red?"

"Correct."

I eyed him suspiciously, not believing him in the slightest. "Okay, then. My turn. Favourite flavour ice cream?"

"Easy. Vanilla."

"And you say I'm boring and predictable."

"On the contrary. No one claims vanilla as their favourite through fear of sounding bland and uninspiring. But it's an underrated flavour, beautiful in its simplicity. It doesn't need all the bells and whistles to be perfect... it just is."

Our eyes locked, the intensity of his gaze causing my heart to unexpectedly skip a beat. Flustered, I looked away, silently cursing myself when I caught the unmistakable twitch of his lips out of the corner of my eye.

"Personally, I don't think you can beat strawberry." I said, purposefully keeping my voice casual and light. "Every now and then, my dad used to take me and my sisters to this ice cream shop on the corner of where we lived and would treat us to a giant strawberry ice cream sundae with whipped cream and sprinkles. And he used to say 'Sundaes have to be eaten on a Sunday - it's the law' and laugh at his own daggy joke."

A sad smile tugged at my lips as I remembered my silly dad and his dreadful but sweet sense of humour. We would always roll our eyes and call him embarrassing. But I vowed to myself there and then, that if I ever saw him again, I would laugh and tell him I love him for each and every joke he would tell.

I realised Draco hadn't said anything, and when I looked at him, his eyes swam sadly as he studied me with curiosity.

"Are you okay?" I asked, feeling slightly thrown by his expression.

"Yeah," he muttered dully, stubbing out the cigarette on the floor, "just thinking what it must be like to have a father that loves you like yours does."

Knowing there wasn't anything to really say to that, I slowly slipped my hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. He looked up, surprised, but didn't attempt to let go. Instead, a warmth filled his eyes and his expression softened, his lips twitching up into an almost smile as his fingers squeezed mine back.

"Tell me more about your family," he murmured hoarsely, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "I'd like to hear about them."

And so, as we sat together on the floor of the bathroom stall, I shared with Draco every happy, sad, and ordinary story of my family life that I could think of. And he listened, in rapt silence, drinking in every word I said, interrupting only to ask questions, wanting to know every minute detail.

I had not realised, until afterwards, that during those hours, I had been filled with a contentedness that I'd not felt in a long, long time... transported back to happier times: the days before the sewers, the days before we were choosing dying over living.

"Thank you," I whispered quietly to Draco as we returned to the dark and silent dormitory and prepared to go our separate ways.

A cool hand cupped my face, long slender fingers dancing tenderly against my cheek. "No, thank you, Alia," he murmured softly back.

Lips brushed mine before he pulled away, and with one last squeeze of my hand, he let go and moved off towards his bunk.

Laying down in my own bed that night, I dreamt only of my kind hearted mother and good natured father, of the holidays and birthdays we had experienced together, the love, tears and laughter we'd shared throughout the years.

My beautiful, funny, yet quite unremarkable, family.

It was a life I would simply die for.

******