"Welcome, players, to the fifth game. Before we begin, please make your way down the steps and choose one of the mannequins that you see presented before you. Once you've chosen, take the corresponding vest. They are numbered one through sixteen. Let me repeat the instructions..."

Sixteen people left... sixteen numbers.

My heart raced almost at once as my eyes swept the room, my mind working quickly as I attempted to decipher the best number to go for.

I could almost hear the same panicked conversations going on inside my companions heads - because one thing was for certain: choosing the correct number was key to survival.

But without a single clue as to what the game would entail, how could anyone possibly know?

Roger Davies was the first to step forward, aiming straight for number six. "The number of girls who dropped their knickers for me in Hogwarts. Surely it's got to mean something?"

"Yeah," Nico muttered disdainfully under his breath. "It means that you're a fucking tart."

Next, Theodore Nott pushed out from the crowd, heading straight for number seven. "Nah, it's lucky number seven all the way."

It seemed to drive a handful of others into action, with people now panicking to get at their 'significant' number, all of which involved the middle ones.

Cormac went for number nine, claiming it to be the number of inches his wand was. Glaring at him, Lavender went for number ten, loudly announcing that to be the number of seconds Cormac lasts in bed.

Isobel McDougal, a quiet Ravenclaw in the year above me, opted for number eight; and Blaise, number eleven. There were ten spots left - five at the front, and five at the back.

I could feel my own panic grow. I needed to think, but if I did not hurry, then I would be left with no choice.

"Your attention please. The numbers you see on the mannequins correspond to the order in which you will be playing. Please make your decision carefully."

I had been right to remain cautious. But then I was left with yet another decision. Is it better to get a head start and go first? Or to go last and make a plan whilst the game unfolds?

I sensed him before he spoke, had felt his piercing silver eyes burning into the back of my head ever since we had stepped into the room.

"It's too dangerous to go first," Draco hummed quietly behind me, the heat of his breath gently skimming the top of my ear and causing involuntary shivers to ripple down my back. "Come on, let's take the higher numbers."

Fingers brushed lightly on my hip, an act so intimate that I had to push away the desire to twist around and reach up to touch my lips to his.

"What makes you so certain of that?" I asked warily, reluctant to go with him.

"Come on, Alia," he persisted, his face grave, "we haven't time to stand around. Going at the back makes sense. The Ravenclaw in you must know it."

I glared back at him, irritated. This was my decision to make, not his. Before I could childishly snipe that only losers go last, Harry Potter marched past us, heading straight for number one.

"Out of the way!" He demanded, pushing Tracey Davis aside just as she reached out for the vest on the first mannequin. "I think it's safe to say that I ought to be number one."

Startled, and possibly too tired and hungry to get into an argument, Tracey immediately acquiesced, opting for number two instead. But before Harry could place the vest over his head, a hand tentatively tapped his shoulder causing him to whirl around.

"Excuse me?" Cedric Diggory said quietly, but loud enough for the room to stop and listen, each and every one of us intrigued. "Could I be number one, instead? Ever since coming runner up in the Triwizard Tournament, my life has never been this thing that I've been able to truly control, I have never achieved anything that my parents or Cho could ever be proud of. But right now, as I stand here, I need to know I've got something to make my unborn son proud. I need him to know that at least once in my sorry life, I was number one."

Harry looked down at the vest and shrugged. "Whatever," he said, tossing it to a relieved looking Cedric. "It's your funeral."

The room remained in a startled silence, shocked that Harry had conceded without a fight. Instead, all eyes were on him as he moved towards the vacant number twelve. He seemed oddly pleased to hold the vest, and even kissed the digits, murmuring something about being serious.

"Come on," Draco said, drawing my attention back as he grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the end.

Nico was already there, wearing the sixteenth vest. I threw him a half smile, feeling oddly reassured that he was thinking along the same lines as Draco. It reinforced the idea that going last would be in our favour.

A vest was shoved in my hands, I looked down to see that Draco had already chosen number fifteen for me, he himself throwing the number fourteen over his head.

I was tired, my brain was like fog. It was only when I realised Padma had chosen number thirteen did I seem to wake up, an idea instantly forming in my head.

"Switch with me," I said to Draco at once, trying to hand him back the number fifteen vest.

He quickly took a step back, as though I were made of fire. "No." A shake of his head. "I promised that I'd look after you. It's safer for me to go in front."

"And you also promised you'd have my back. This way you literally have my back. Come on - it's just one step ahead."

His gaze followed mine to where Padma was stood, sporting the thirteenth vest. His jaw immediately tensed.

"Alia, you mustn't trust her-"

"Maybe not. But she's still my sister, Draco, the only one I have left."

"You can trust me."

"I barely know you! You know every thing about me, yet you have told me hardly a thing about your life, or the reason as to why you are in here in the first place. You ask me to trust you, but based on what? A quick screw in the bathroom stall?"

My words caused him to flinch, but I could see his mind whirring, working out what he could say in this limited time to tell me what I needed to hear.

"Okay, you want to hear it? You want to hear how almost drowning in my own snot and tears as I begged for my mother's life at You-Know-Who's feet has destroyed me? How the knowledge that my father just stood by and said nothing whilst I was forced to watch her then be killed has mentally fucked me over? For the last four years I have been dead inside - I did not think I was capable of feeling anything again." He paused, his eyes penetrating mine as though trying to look into my soul... or trying to show me his. "And then I met you."

I briefly closed my eyes as I felt overcome by a wave of emotion. I did not flinch as he reached out to brush his fingertips lightly against the back of my hand, his touch making me shiver.

"Alia, I need you to trust me because even though we've only known one another for a short while, it's still long enough for me to know that I simply cannot fathom a world without you in it."

The impact of this admission threw me quite literally off guard. I felt winded, as though all the breath had somehow evacuated my lungs.

"Attention player 199. It is imperative that you choose a vest or else you will be automatically eliminated."

Panicked, I looked from Draco to Padma, back to Draco, swallowing down a lump as I stared up at him pleadingly.

It was a shame that under normal circumstances (whatever they were), such a declaration would possibly have me feeling giddy, as though I were flying to the moon.

But nothing about this was normal, and I was fighting a losing battle to keep hold of my family who were, up until this moment, my every reason for living.

"If you honestly feel that way about me," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, "then you'll understand why I need to do this, why I need that vest."

And, just like Tracey had done to Harry, and Harry had done to Cedric, Draco released a heavy, resigned sigh, and relented.

*****

"Hello, players. Let me welcome you all to the fifth game. The fifth game is Glass Stepping Stones. The stepping stones before you are made from one of two types of glass. One will be tempered glass, and the other will be normal glass. The tempered glass stepping stones are strong enough to hold the weight of two people. However, the normal glass will break even if just one person steps on it. For this game, you will guess which one of the next two tiles is the tile made of the stronger tempered glass, and only step on those across the eighteen pairs of tiles. You may then cross over to the other side safely, and pass this game."

Slowly, all sixteen players who had just stepped out of the elevator onto the platform scanned the seemingly never ending path of glass stepping stones ahead of them. A bridge, of which, stood suspended hundreds of feet above the ground.

"You will have sixteen minutes to get to the other side. Shoes must be removed and play must be played in vest order, starting with the lowest. Good luck!"

Tentatively, Cedric Diggory - the boy who longed to be number one just once - stepped forward, his pale face trembling with fear as he approached the edge of the platform.

His eyes gazed down in horror at the first two plates of glass before him, both of which looked identical in every way. They were too far away for him to be able to simply reach out a foot and test. No - the only way to get to them was to jump. And there were eighteen pairs of them to get through.

"Please," he whispered as he slowly turned to the armed pink guard who stood silently at the side, "how do I tell which one is tempered glass?"

The guard said nothing.

Cedric swallowed, his insides plummeting, knowing he was never going to meet his unborn child or be his number one.

At this point in the game, though, none of this should really have come as a shock.

*****