The Green Games: Chapter Twenty-Six (Dramione)

Corner had only dealt with this kind of terror years ago; when he was a child. It was the same terror, he knew, which made it all the worse.

He had been only eight. His older, cooler cousin had convinced him that if he wanted to ever be 'cool' like he was, he should sneak out with him during the boring family reunion. Besides, they were supposed to be upstairs watching the telly anyway, while all the boring adults did adult things.

Connor was really awesome, and his best friend- Jackson- who had come to the family reunion too, told Corner that if he did this, tomorrow they'd let him hang around with him.

It was too good of a promise to pass up.

So, just after midnight, Jack shoved the old window open from the rusty way it had settled into, and the three boys shimmied down the terrace and onto the wide expanse of the farmhouses' front yard. Michael ignored Cara (his other cousin, his age's) pitiful cries about how he was going to get in trouble. She was just jealous they didn't invite her anyway.

Connor took them to a junkyard near the old family farm, with a decaying barn and a high fence around it. He flipped up a part of the wire that had eroded away, staring down at Corner's face with a cold frown.

"You're not scared," He'd taunted, "It's un-cool to be scared."

Corner shoved himself under the wire, muddying his nice clothes.

"We come here all the time." Jackson said, "You can find the coolest shit here."

Corner was amazed he had just sworn so casually; they truly must be the epitome of cool! He was rather engrossed, watching the boys that were four years his senior tossing ugly, dirty hats at each other and laughing as they sorted through the junk.

"Hey Mickey," Connor called, a sort of devilish grin on his face, "I think you should go into the barn. They say it's haunted."

"But it's falling apart."

"So?" Jackson scoffed, "If you really were like us, you'd just go."

"I don't know..."

"Whatever." Connor shoved him out of his way, "Run back and go hide under your covers. You don't have to, but at least we know you're a chicken."

Corner, seething with indignation, ran up to the barn. He couldn't see anything inside, and it frightened him. But when he turned around, both boys made a 'go on' motion, and they seemed so pleased with him.

He got three steps into the main part before the wood cracked and fell beneath his feet. He feel through the floor to the basement, and landed with a cracking sound beneath. He raised his hands and saw blood dripping down, and when he touched his head, he seemed to be bleeding even more.

He blubbered, wondering how he was going to get himself out of this. It wasn't too bad in that moment, being in the basement of the barn. It was when his eyes adjusted the horror started.

He looked up and saw a thousand glowing eyes peering at him from underneath dusty boards and piles of decaying hay.

Corner let out a whimper, and they all darted forward.

A sea of wiggling rat bodies seemed to wash over him, all jolted by the movement of the next. Their teeth and claws climbed over his body, and Corner screamed, startling them all more.

It was likely only moments that the rats accosted him, but to his eight-year-old mind, it seemed like a thousand. He didn't even remember the after part, when they were all gone, other than he could still see their glinting eyes as he cried until his father rescued him, screaming at his cousin.

He'd broken his leg and was cut in multiple places. He had to go get a nasty rabies shot, and for months after, he would wake up screaming for his dreams were just rats as far as his sight could see, all moving and squeaking and never out of his head.

Connor and Jackson were punished heavily, but Corner couldn't help but feel that it wasn't going to be enough. They were truly sorry, they weren't monsters of course, but how was revoked privileges ever going to compare to the horror Michael experienced over and over? The broken leg he'd have to waddle around on for a year, while other children played tag and he was stuck inside? The way his whole body trembled even years into Hogwarts when he even thought he saw a rat?

It wasn't good enough.

His first year into Hogwarts, he acquired a book on darker subjects from another fellow Ravenclaw who should have been in Slytherin like Corner. Michael had been a hat stall; almost Slytherin. It was only Cara that kept him away from it; she'd read him books on everything in his grandmother's library while he was on his broken leg and healing, and therefore the thought of just pure learning (The books themselves, dry, but Grandma was old) was such a happy memory.

It wasn't enough to keep him from going back that summer and cursing Jackson and Connor's nightmares with rats like his, so real that they both woke up screaming. They'd have those nightmares every year, every time they forgot what they'd done to him.

It was also the fist time he'd meet the Ministry of Magic, but it was a small price to pay for the revenge, the joy of it, for his cousin getting what he deserved.

But it didn't help Corner...he was still terrified of rats.

And a whole tidal wave, scurrying as one through the undergrowth, greeted him.

"Please, no. Not again..." He whimpered, trying to climb a tree, but finding every tree in the area to have a first branch high above his reach.

A rat jumped on his leg, biting through his clothes. And then another. And another.

Corner fell to the ground, rolling on them as they nibbled and clawed at his skin. They bit at his flesh like it was a delicacy, and every horror story of rats eating people entered his mind like an unwelcome pest. He became frantic.

He ranked his fingers down his arms, trying to shake them off. His efforts became more and more violent as the rats did, and he saw the blood drizzle down his arms, but they didn't stop.

Corner was eight again, but this time it was so much worse.

THEGREENGAMES

"Caligula!" Mandy cried, backing up. They had the worst damn luck, didn't they? Not twenty minutes ago Caligula had gone to get water for the pair of them, and since then, the air had cooled and fog had rolled in. They'd heard the awful scream early this morning, and both had gone in the opposite direction of it. Both thought of the worst things it could be that caused such a sound, but Mandy would have never guessed what she was seeing now.

A group of rabid dogs surrounded her, eyes flashing and foam gathering around their lips as they bit and snapped at her. She felt her whole body freeze up. This was something out of her worst nightmare. She pressed herself up the bark of tree, whimpering slightly.

Her cold fingers fumbled around the only weapon she had, a short dagger she used mainly to cleave the fur away from the meat of her kills. She doubted it would do much against these beasts, nearly her size as it were.

One lunged forward, and Mandy cried, slashing forward. It caught the dog on the pelt, and it growled as a stream of crimson liquid trickled down its matted fur. Another pranced around her left, and she swung around.

"Cal!" She cried again, her throat rough from crying and yelling. How did he not hear this? Worse...was he fighting these dogs too, "Help!" She cried again, although her faith was slipping.

The dogs growled, circling around her, and Mandy's eyes flashed above her, to where a tree branch was just in her reach, that could lead her up there. She hadn't climbed a tree since she was young, but she had to try.

She looked back at the dogs, once confident in slight they weren't going to move in the millisecond it took, she jumped up, both her palms wrapping around the hard bark. She pulled her torso up, and one of the dogs leaped, catching the edge of her ankle and biting hard.

The pain was like fire. As it fell back down to the ground, the teeth tore through her flesh, almost grinning with human-like glee at Mandy's horrified expression. With one leg basically useless, she pushed herself up the tree on upper-body strength alone, her left leg dangling like a dead weight.

She whimpered in pain every inch up, but forced herself high above the yapping dogs below her. She looked at her leg, torn and sinewy, and felt hot tears blubber of her cheeks. Her fingers shook above it, terrified to touch.

It hurt like nothing else she'd ever felt, and she saw the white of the bone shining through the jagged bite.

She withheld a shaky cry. She'd been bit; she had rabies now, that's how it worked? Her death was going to be agonizing and painful and drawn out, just like how she watched her older brother die before her eyes, after they didn't tell mom about that bat who scratched him.

"Cameron," She muttered, looking up, giving a small scoff, "Two of us...eh?"

She swallowed thickly, looking down at the dogs still clawing and snarling at the tree. Now...she just needed not to fall asleep...then again, she found it difficult to imagine she could. She was still terrified.

THEGREENGAMES

"There are more screams." Elizabeth shivered despite it wasn't all that cold out.

"It's not here." Ron muttered.

"What if it does."

Ron didn't answer, but his lip twitched downward and he gave a careless shrug. Elizabeth didn't know what had prompted his surly attitude lately, but everything she said seemed to irritate him. She tried not to talk often; despite she wanted to get to the bottom of his attitude.

She twiddled her thumbs, sighing. There was still blood from Luna's death underneath her fingernails, far beyond where she could scrub out. She hated seeing it, but it was sunk far under her cuticles, a constant reminder.

She missed Luna so much. She wasn't sure how to go on without her, without Hermione still. The two people she'd looked up to were pretty much gone, leaving her than a person who clearly saw her as a child in need of babysitting.

"Would you prefer I leave?" She asked in a moment of courage, and Ron's head snapped around.

"What?"

"You don't want me around, do you? I mean, I'll be fine." She got up, grabbing her bag, fully ready to walk away from Ron. She didn't want to be anyone's burden.

"Don't do that." Ron seemed just as annoyed with this suggestion as everything else she said, "Just...stay."

"I'll be okay, Ron." She said insistently.

"Do you hear those screams?" Ron grabbed her arm, "You can leave, whatever, but not now. We don't know what's out there and it's better to face it together." He said.

"So you do care about me, some level." She murmured, more to herself, but Ron still heard. He scowled, dropping her arm.

"Something like that. It's complicated." He said, pacing himself away from her.

"Uncomplicated it. What's going on?" Elizabeth asked. Ron chuckled darkly, but shook his head.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" He asked, and then said nothing more on the subject. Elizabeth was about to throw up her hands in defeat. She was just as far away from understanding than when she began. Ron was the most infuriating person she knew, and that included Draco Malfoy. It was difficult in times like these to imagine what Luna saw in him, but she had to remind herself they were under so much stress that it made people different.

They sat on different sides of the clearing. Elizabeth didn't try to push the matter further. She was slightly grateful Ron hadn't let her leave; she didn't really want to leave during whatever was going on. She wasn't confident she'd survive it...but would that truly be the worst thing?

She wanted to tell Ron her dirtiest secret; that if she didn't survive, it would be okay. But she hadn't told anyone, and she wasn't going to involved Ron in something so personal, not when he seemed to hate her for some reason she wasn't aware of.

The only person that knew was her brother.

"Elizabeth..."

It was the softest whisper, and Elizabeth jolted up. It was her brother's voice, undeniably, and it was in pain. It was the sound he'd made when he'd fallen and broken his arm two years ago, the almost evanescent sound of hurt.

She looked around wildly.

"What?" Ron asked, seeing her movement.

"They wouldn't...no...." Elizabeth hissed to herself. She stood, and heard it again, louder and more pronounced.

"They wouldn't what?" Ron asked louder, eyebrows rising, "What are you talking about?"

She heard sobbing. She looked at Ron, and she ran off into the forest as he grabbed forward to stop her.

"Andrew!" She cried, ignoring Ron's confused yells. He didn't hear it like she had, likely. He'd never understand! She had to find her brother.

"Elizabeth..." The sound was to her left. She turned and saw her brother suspended in the air, arrows through his body. She rushed forward, but was bounced back by a force field. Blood dripped onto the forest floor from her brother's body.

"No!" She yelled, pounding on the invisible shield that burned her palms, "I'm the tribute, not him!" How dare they? She knew Voldemort wasn't right in the head, but this was her brother. It wasn't fair; he wasn't picked.

Andrew looked at her, his wispy brown hair slicked back with sweat. He opened his lips slightly and a drizzle of blood dribbled down his lips. His mouth was filled with blood. She could almost taste the tang.

"Why? How can I help you?" She asked, going all around, trying to find anywhere that was weaker.

"You can't." Andrew coughed, "Soon you'll be alone."

"No." She shook her head, "Andrew! Stop it! Don't die! Please..." She banged against the barrier, watching her brother's face turn ashen, "I don't want to be alone again..."

"Oh, Elizabeth," Her brother reached out a red hand faintly toward her from where he was limp, "When were you ever not?"

THEGREENGAMES

Ron watched as Elizabeth streaked off into the forest.

"Mental bird." He hissed. He'd lost her somewhere in the fog. She'd been mumbling incomprehensible things to herself; crazy things, and then she'd taken off like the dickens. Well, he couldn't help her if she didn't want to be helped!

When she'd offered to leave, Ron was almost gleeful...then he thought of how disappointed Luna would be, and he grabbed her back. It was dangerous out there, no matter how much he disliked her. He didn't want to kill her, so if he let her just walk away and he died, it would pretty much be the same idea.

"I bet its manticores!" He said out lout. Ron was the unluckiest kid, so usually, if he guessed, he wasn't right. So by reverse-logic, it wouldn't be manticores causing these screams, right? He hoped so.

He paced around the camp, wondering if he should go looking for Elizabeth. He could die out there, he thought. So could she. But he tried to keep her here, he ran into the bloody forest after her.

Arg! Luna was still making him do the right thing, even in death, wasn't she?

Ron got three steps into the forest when he noticed the worst thing in the world- gigantic spider webs.

"Oh, come on!" He grunted. Hadn't they already dealt with those? Or were these some stragglers that had survived all this time? Either way today was not the day Ron felt like he wanted to deal with spiders.

He went the opposite way of the webs, still near where Elizabeth had run off. Something tickled on his shoulder. He brushed it off, but retracted his hand to find a tiny spider crawling over his fingers.

"Urgh!" He whipped his hand frantically, stumbling backwards. There was a spider on his foot. He did what looked like a badly choreographed Irish Dance trying to get it off. He stumbled back and spun around just in time to see a spider spindle down right at his nose.

The sound he made was not something he was proud of.

He'd thought after killing the spider previously he'd buried his fears, but obviously, not. Besides, these weren't even big spiders. These were little ones that were currently...crawling all up his body.

Ron's fingers and hands wacked everywhere, and he stumbled about trying to get them off. He tripped over a branch and luckily managed to crush a good number by his body crashing to the floor. Unluckily, a whole hoard climbed up his body.

His legs were stuck, and Ron scrambled to get up.

"Get off!" He cried, although he doubted they spoke English or cared.

He looked down at his hand, and took a sharp intake of horror. One unfortunate side-affect of fearing spiders was to meticulously research them (about the only thing he'd ever researched) to recognized venomous spiders. He swatted the redback from his hand and stomped it into the ground, in what he thought was in time.

He was wrong.

He fell to his knees as the sensation of a nail being whacked through the back of his hand emerged. The spiders continued to crawl over him as beads of sweat appeared on his forehead and around the redness on his hand.

"This is hell." He muttered, "I've died. It's hell. It's been decided."

THEGREENGAMES

"Mandy...?" Caligula arrived back from the stream to find her missing. He'd been gone longer than expected, but he'd fallen asleep in the stream. He was so exhausted lately, and something about the water made him feel safe. He felt awful about it, now seeing her missing.

Their camp was scuffed up with her footprints, as though she'd left in a hurry. He examined everything carefully, but found no indication of what had made her leave. Her frenzied footsteps made him think it was something that left no tracks, no indication.

He put his guard up immediately, looking everywhere around him. He stuffed his canteen into his bag, and saw her footsteps running to the left. Cautiously, he followed. By this point, he wasn't just going to leave her to die some awful death by flesh-eating birds (his current guess; that would be damn scary, wouldn't it?) He frowned, dispelling the idea. He didn't want to give the game makers any if that's not what it was.

The further he went into the forest, the darker it became. It was closer to dusk, but he knew they still had a couple hours. Besides, it didn't just become dark so quickly.

"What gives?" He demanded out loud. He turned around to retreat to the camp, but found it equally as dark the way he'd come. In fact, it was so dark...he couldn't really tell which direction was what.

He tried to steady his breathing.

Here he was, sixteen years old and still afraid of the dark. It was pathetic, wasn't it? Yet he couldn't stop the way his heart began to beat fast as the dankness settled around him like a noose.

"Mandy?" His pitch became one of terror, "You there?"

He stumbled forward, colliding with a tree. His hands scrambled around it, and he hugged it. He wasn't moving an inch until he could see, no siree. He wasn't about to walk off a cliff!

"Mandy? You okay?" He called, but the dark seemed to swallow his voice. He pressed himself against the tree, trying to flatten himself, and swallowed.

There was a rustling behind him.

"What's that?" He turned, but couldn't see more than five feet in front of him. Something growled and a pair of eyes reflected for a moment before they vanished.

Caligula whimpered.

Off to his left, something skittered over his feet, and he yelped. He nearly jumped up the tree, but his hand brushed something soft and unnatural, and he fell back against the ground.

His whole body shook and he pulled himself into a fetal position near the tree.

If he was being perfectly honest with himself, it wasn't the darkness itself that scared him. Something wet slivered up his leg, and Caligula felt a tear squeeze itself out.

What scared him was he couldn't see what lay inside the darkness.

THEGREENGAMES

The utmost luckiest thing about the whole boggart situation was that it couldn't possibly scare someone who wasn't awake to see his or her nasty figures. Sleeping was the one thing Tracy did best, second to survival, which she'd never thought would have been true.

It wasn't just that Tracy had been known as a child to sleep through whole Hogwarts classes and wake up just as the next cycle of sleep was starting only to fall back to the bliss again, it was that the only spell she'd ever mastered was a silencing spell. Hell, if you had an older brother with the sex-drive of a spring rabbit like she did, coupled with the paper-thin walls of their modest home, you'd learn that spell right quick.

Therefore, she heard none of the screams of the rest of the world going on about her.

She woke a little before dusk, and marveled at how long she'd been asleep. Usually, a message noisily woke her- the only thing that could enter through the spell barrier- with this or that, never letting her get a true night of beauty rest.

Tracey tensed as she realized this; she was a Slytherin after all, and suspicion was in her blood.

Outside looked innocent enough. The world wasn't on fire, nor was it suspended in ice. It didn't seem as though a plague of locusts had barreled through, or some pawsy animal that had eaten her supply of food. In fact, the forest looked almost...picturesque at the moment.

Tracey stood up in her tent, and looked around outside without going out. She should have a letter, a message of what was going on. Marcus would never leave her in the dark, would he?

To say she was surprised when she received the first correspondence from the burly winner was an understatement. Correspondence was an understatement too; it was more cornered after the practice with him.

She wasn't quite sure what it was she had with him. Not a relationship, not like Cedric and Hannah supposedly did, but more than a friendship, she'd decided. She was surprised he talked to her at all. He was a pureblood and a winner of the games. She was a muggleborn and most people forgot altogether she was the other girl in Pansy's dorm at all.

Maybe that was it. Maybe it was the secretiveness she had and all. She was an enigma, a mystery to unravel, although she would have never taken Flint for the 'effort' sort of guy to let that happen.

She wasn't complaining though. He sent her tips, food, and protection. Maybe when it was all over, when she'd stayed low enough to allow a win for herself (Flint predicted her biggest competition was Hermione, who was like a dying star- burning bright, but too brilliant to last much longer) he'd tell her. Maybe it would be something else.

But she hardly had time to wonder about those possibilities now.

"What's going on, Flint?" She hissed under her breath, hands poised on the edge of her shelter. She frowned, and retreated back inside. She flopped on her stomach and ate a handful of nuts, running her fingers through her messy hair as she crunched on the proteins.

She'd made some jerky last night, she recalled. She should have some of that.

Outside, she stood with her fingers on her chin, frowning at the branch. She was positive she'd had more than that, didn't she?

As she was reaching for the nearest strip, convinced she was making things up, she heard it...the softest sounds of crying.

She retreated, and sprinted over to her bag, grabbing a knife from the bottom of her sack. She crept toward the sound, and saw a figure withering on the ground, bleeding from cleanly cut lines. She'd assumed someone came through and half-killed the person- Hannah, wasn't it?- but that left more questions than answers.

Why didn't they kill her all the way? Who was it? Where were they?

Hannah was also sobbing and yelling at air, in a mad way that made Tracy's hair stand on edge. She seemed...possessed in a way. Or she was hallucinating.

Whatever it was, Tracey backed away quickly. Something about the way she moved wasn't right.

Anxiety riddled her mind in a sudden way she hadn't been expecting. She feared her every step, loathed every sound made around the forest. She expected the worst at ever chirp or whistle. She didn't even know what she was supposed to be looking out for.

There was something at the edge of her vision. Tracey spun around, waving her knife, but it was pointed at emptiness. She took a step back, and the ground crumbled out from underneath her. She fell backwards into a pit, and sandy grit forced its way into her mouth.

The earth seemed to rush back over her, covering her swiftly. Unrelenting panic sized her as she felt her body stiffen, faced with the tightness of the hole she'd fallen into, mixed with the fear of being buried alive.

The earth kept coming. Tracey couldn't breathe. Somehow, she managed to keep screaming. When she heard the cannon, she wondered if she was already dead and it was her own.

THEGREENGAMES

Hermione did fall asleep, but it was the potion's fault. Fault was a strong word though, when her body was so exhausted and so battered that in reality, sleep was the best thing that could have happened.

"How long will it take her to heal?" Colin asked, nodding to the dozing Hermione.

"Hard to say." Draco twiddled at a stick of wood, "Even if she were at St. Mungo's, there's only so much magic can do. Without it, without basically anything, your guess is as good as mine."

"Could we win like this?"

Draco winced inwardly, biting his tongue hard. He forgot all too often the situation Colin and Hermione were both in. They were both muggle-borns. Only one could win, and that was if Pansy didn't kill them all first.

He wanted Hermione to win, but by no means did that mean he wanted Colin to die either. Maybe Colin had forgotten. Maybe he hadn't. Perhaps he was just being optimistic.

"With Hermione hurt?" Draco decided to ignore the 'we'.

"Yeah."

"We're good opponents. Better with her, even half-dead. I can't say. I guess we just have to hope." He said, and that scared him. Draco previously thought relying on hope was for fools and Hufflepuffs, although often the two were one in the same. He'd begun to revisit many ideals this many days in.

"She'll kill herself before she let herself become not useful." Colin scoffed, "And that will prolong it, huh?"

"With Hermione, noting was ever certain." Draco gave a dry chuckle.

Another low sounding moan of pain floated eerily through the barrier. Draco and Colin both stiffened.

"Christ." Colin muttered at the same time Draco said, "Merlin." They exchanged looks.

"That's it." Draco stood, dusting himself off, "Either I'm going to go mad listening to that, or I could try to help. I'm certain at this point it's not the contestants at each other, but something the game-makers did." He said.

"Should I come too?" Colin said, "You might need the extra muscle."

"I don't want to leave Hermione here alone." Draco shook his head, "If I'm not back within the hour, come after me. I'll use the trail method we decided on, okay?" He said. He was already gathering a bag of small medical items, his face set with determination.

"You know, you're acting quite Gryffindorish right now." Colin said with a grin on his face.

"Shut it," Draco said, although there was a blush creeping up his cheeks, "I'm acting like a decent human being, and might I add, as selfish one because that sound is going to throw me off the deep end if I have to listen to anymore of it." He said, stepping outside the barrier.

"One hour. Nightfall." He said, pointing to the slightly-darkening sky.

"If you're not back..."

"Not dead. Malfoys don't die."

Colin watched him wander off into the forest.

"Cheeky bastard." He scoffed, playing anxiously with his fingers.

The sun sunk lower and lower. The sounds continued, but Draco didn't appear back through the trees. Colin had long ago decided this had been a very bad idea, and Draco might as well sign his own death warrant by going out there. There hadn't been a cannon...yet. That didn't mean Draco wasn't bleeding out somewhere, near death, waiting for someone to rescue him.

With approximately fifteen minutes until he was supposed to go find him, Hermione woke up.

"Where's Draco?" She asked, looking around with groggy eyes.

"Out getting wood." Colin was sure his tone was an inch above reasonable. Hermione looked at him dubiously.

"There's a pile there." She said, and her eyes widened, "Colin, where is he really?"

"Helping people?" Colin said.

She shot up straight.

"You let him go out there by himself?" She demanded.

"He did it! We had to watch you, or I would have gone too!" Colin argued. Hermione's whole face turned bright red with anger.

"Because of me, someone who was sleeping safely, you let Draco go out during what might be the goddamn apocalypse? Colin!"

"I'm going after him, okay?" Colin didn't want to admit that Hermione's points were far more reasonable than Draco's, and perhaps if she'd been awake, they wouldn't be worrying about this because Colin would have been with him, or neither out there at all.

"I should hope so. I'm coming too!" She said, swinging her legs over the bed, and wincing deeply.

"No." Colin said, "You can't. You'll hurt yourself more."

"Is this the face of someone who cares, Colin?"

"I can find him." Colin assured, "I can. I promise. He's taught me a lot about magical signatures. I know his. I can find him." He hurriedly assured, "He'd kill me if you hurt yourself on his behalf."

"I'm ready to-," Hermione tried to stand, but dizzily fell back, and hit the wall in frustration, "Fine." She snapped, "Be back soon."

"You promise you'll stay put." Colin said, watching her out of the corner of his eyes.

"Maybe." Hermione grunted, "But only if you come back with him soon, alive." She said.

"That's the plan." Colin gave a grunt, and stepped outside the barrier. The darkness was chilling, and now outside his little haven, the sounds of pain and suffering were so much more pronounced. It was as if the whole forest was amplifying everyone's grief toward something Colin hoped he wouldn't find.

He saw little tufts of upturned soil, and followed that. Soon, it became disjointed and scattered, and he couldn't tell the path Draco was leaving him at all. The signature seemed horribly confused too, as though something had interrupted it...

He sniffled, and felt his nose drip. He'd begun to develop a cold, unfortunately, and he used the back of his sleeve to wipe away the mucus. Yet, as soon as he began to pull away, the bitter tang of blood swarmed up his nose, and he withheld a gag.

The sleeve of his coat was shiny with blood. He lifted a finger to his nose, and it came back sticky and red.

"Shit..." He muttered, shaking his head, and trying to focus on anything but the slow dripping of the garnet substance down his face.

It didn't really work. He grew woozy, and the forest darkened around him as he toppled to the ground.

THEGREENGAMES

Draco set off confidently; he'd been cooped up far too long and was itching for something to do, someone to save. Besides, staring at Hermione, willing her to heal did nothing except frustrate him. It was as useful as watching paint dry.

He understood Colin's worry, but he was not as concerned. This thing hadn't sought them out yet, and although the sounds were awful, it wasn't terrible. The distinction in his own mind made sense, the idea that this was one notch below utter chaos, yet one above an obstacle.

He found traces of people that had come through, fires left hastily or heels dug into the ground, but found no one. This was a bit spooky to him, but Draco didn't scare easily. He'd seen someone's innards being held in their own hands...it took more than a couple people where they shouldn't to really terrify him.

He knew he should be getting back soon; the sky was dark. He was determined though. The sounds had been so close...where was the person? At this point, he'd save anyone but Pansy, maybe even Pike. Perhaps it was a sort of 'brotherhood' that was born from being mauled by something other than them, that when it was something the game makers forced, he was more willing to be sympathetic. Or something.

The area around him turned suddenly cold. The grass crunched under his feet, fresh with frost, and a flower wilted and froze before his eyes. He tightened his posture, and closed his eyes.

He didn't even really consider the fact that demenotrs had already been here, mostly because he'd been so relieved not to meet them the first time around. These things, unlike everything else, did terrify him.

He recalled their coming to Hogwarts in his third year vividly. He'd made fun of Potter for having a run in or two with them, but that was to hide his own panic whenever he saw a wisp of one. They were drawn to him as much as Harry, if not more. He still could feel those icy cold and spidery like fingers upon his cheek, the soulless stare as it came closer...

He let out a shaky gasp, and ran. They came from the treetops and the ground. They floated around him in multitude, and he knew in the bottom of his heart they were sent specifically for him, goading him out with sounds of the wounded. It was obvious, wasn't it? It was Voldemort's own doing, taking Draco out before he could become any more of a rebel.

As they came past, sucking the warmth from his body, it felt like part of his face was being ripped away. He fell backwards, his head hitting the rock-hard ground, but he could barely tell the coldness of the forest from the feeling of the chill in his own bones.

The happiness drained away. There was nothing to live for. Nothing to fight for. Nothing to...

THEGREENGAMES

Colin was not back.

Draco was not back.

Hermione was not happy.

Damn her own recovery, these boys clearly needed her help.

Although every step hurt, and her whole body ached, Hermione pushed on. She made each excruciating step forward instead of back, and kept her wits about her. There was something nasty lurking out here, and she knew she might not be good enough to fight it. She could outwit it, if she kept the pain from taking over her logic.

There was a shadow to her left. She turned to see an apparition of a figure, but it was one she was pleased to see.

"Harry! You got to help me. Where's Draco or Colin?" She asked, struggling forward. Harry was stonily silent, unusually. He looked like he did at the train station, but there was a total darkness to him that stood out in stark contrast to the Harry she'd met before.

"Harry, please, tell me where they are. I don't think either has much time." She begged, stumbling at his feet.

"Why would I tell you?" He scoffed, stepping back, as if disgusted, "You can't even keep yourself safe. And to run to Draco? I thought I knew you better."

The disappointment in his eyes stung like a slap. She startled.

"He saved my life, Harry. I...I don't expect you to understand." She whimpered, confused and hurt.

"He's one of them, Hermione. He's just waiting to kill you, don't you see? I never took you for an idiot."

"Harry..." Hermione blubbered, "Why are you saying these things?" He became silent once again, "Harry, please!" She grasped at him as he turned and walked into the forest. She followed numbly, stumbling after him like a child. His piercing eyes and silent frown was the worst insult someone could have ever given her, and it made her question what she thought she knew. Harry was wiser, and he'd helped her before, hadn't he?

She came face to face with Seamus next. He appeared the same way Harry had, the apparition with a tint of a darkness she didn't recall seeing before. Instead of grinning like she knew, Seamus looked at Hermione with distain. She felt her heart come up her throat and clog it. She couldn't breathe. Why was he back? Why was he here?

"Seamus, not you too..." Hermione whimpered, "You should be on!"

"How could I?" He asked fiercely, "When it's your fault I'm dead. You did this to me." He said.

"I...I..." Hermione couldn't even argue it. It was what she'd believed all along. Why did she expect him to think of her any differently? Not when it was obviously her fault.

"To think I fancied myself in love with you." He gave a ark chuckle, "I see my faults now. You're poisonous. First Harry, then me. Whose next, Hermione?"

"I never meant-,"

"Of course not. You were just thinking of yourself and how much you supposedly needed to see Elizabeth. Didn't even think I'd come after you, no?" He said angrily, "You're like a plague. Death follows you. And you thought you wouldn't be changed after? I don't even recognize the lass I thought I loved." He said.

"I'm sorry."

"That's not good enough." Seamus spat. Hermione felt as though her heart was breaking in two. She clutched the necklace he'd given her tightly. Should she offer it back to him? Should she not? It broke the skin, and she thought of Draco's eyes when he'd noticed it.

"I couldn't save you, you're right. But I can save my friends still alive." She said, standing.

"You? You can hardly stand?" Seamus said meanly, and Hermione swallowed. She searched his face, trying to understand why he was saying these things. The shadows that cast upon his face...something wasn't right. It was a tingling in her bones, a sort of alarm that tingled up her spine.

"This isn't you." She whispered, a dawn of understanding, "I don't know what you are, but this isn't Seamus, and that wasn't Harry." She wouldn't ever know what prompted her eureka moment, but the apparition seemed stunned. Perhaps it was, when she looked back, Harry and Seamus were only saying the fears she held deep within her heart, locked away in the deepest cavern. There was nothing they hadn't said that she didn't think, at least in a small part. There was nothing new of their taunts.

"Of course it's me." Seamus said, "You know me." He said with a meaningful certainty.

"I do. Real Seamus did love me. He wouldn't blame me. He's too good for that. Despite it all, he was always too good for that." She felt tears dribble down her face, and she shook her head in amazement, "It's all in my head." Hermione whispered, ignoring it, and walking away, "It's all in my head." Walking away from him, even 99.9% certainty that this was just a mind trick, and in the worst way, was one of the more difficult things she'd done in her life.

"Come back!" Harry floated, and Seamus on her other side, "We're not done with you, Hermione!"

"But I'm done with you! Even if you are real, I will not be taunted for choosing how I want to live the little life I may have left!" She turned, but there was nothing to yell at. She felt a flash of pride; she'd conquered at least one demon, all before dinner.

Her joy was replaced swiftly by fear though, as she came across the supine body of Colin not too far from the campsite. He seemed totally fine, if not for a little dribble of blood on his fingers, and no other visible wounds. There might be wounds internally, but Hermione didn't have the knowledge to check it. He was almost awake, so the best she could do was help him up and half-drag him back to camp, where he fell on the bed out cold once again.

She wasn't going to get any information if he'd found Draco, she realized with a deep frown. She was quite exhausted and woozy at this point, but she knew she needed to go on. Something deep inside of her urged her forward, a nagging voice that screamed there wasn't too much time for Draco left.

She went back out the way she'd come, and came upon a place where the trees were frosted over, the grass breaking beneath her labored steps.

The clear around her was filled with floating dementors.

"Draco!" She cried. In the middle of the clearing, he lay, fingers outreached and face dangerously pale. A thousand deities glowed around him, taking turns as they sucked life from his body. Each time he flopped uselessly, less and less each time, and it was clear there wasn't any time at all.

She leapt forward, and threw her hand out, "Expecto Patronum!"

Nothing. They didn't even notice her. Panic gripped her, and she realized that maybe there was nothing she could do. Her hand was broken, and it wasn't coming up this time.

Something was loosely grasped in Draco's left hand. It looked like...a wand? She lunged forward, avoiding a dementor that now very much noticed her presence, and fell flat on her back.

Within a split second, thoughts of her and Harry and Ron as children flashed through her mind. Christmas with her family, her father lighting the tree on fire accidentally. The smell of old books in a bookshop. Finding a quill that wrote perfectly. Seamus and his kisses that smelled like pine trees. Draco bearing his soul on the rooftop. The smell of a crackling fire. Stars. Love. Passion. It was so much stronger than the first images she'd conjured, and maybe it was because it wasn't to just save herself this time, but Draco too. Hermione always had felt more passionate about things if they helped another.

"Expecto Patronum!"

A shimmering and magnificent lion leapt from the tip of the wand, the silvery body roaring with a force that shook the trees. The glimmering light shone through the wood, and her hand shook with the effort to keep it up. The dementors hissed, running away. She marveled at the sheer power of the spell, perhaps the most powerful one she'd ever cast.

She'd half been expecting a panther, like her animangus. But then again, Patronui changed depending on life situations and feelings. The lion soothed her soul, consoling her in this moment despite all she'd had to do to others, she was still a Gryffindor. It was the smallest comfort she needed to hold onto the spell, the surge of pride that roared through her body, vibrating to the same hum of the lion that prowled around the clearing.

Just as the last few dementors were scurrying away, the wand splintered into a million pieces, falling to the ground as her lion vanished into the mist. She sat, stunned, breathing heavily as she stared into the night.

"Draco!" She realized, spinning around. He didn't even move, and looked so pale and sad, his lips turning blue. His mouth was slightly open, and he gave a tiny gasp, and a little blue ball floated from his body. She'd seen this before; this was what happened before someone died from a Dementor's Kiss, but with no dementor around, couldn't he be saved? Clawing frantically, found an empty jar on his pocket, and grappled to catch it. She wasn't even sure it would work, but the soul or whatever it was floated contently in the jar. She screwed the lid tight. She literally held Draco's life in her hands.

She had to admit, a tiny part of her thought it was beautiful.

She didn't have time to admire the beauty though. She shoved the vial into the pocket of Draco's pants, and tried to get her arms underneath Draco's armpits, to lift him. He was hardly conscious, and his eyes flickered back and forth through the narrowed slits of his eyelids. It wouldn't be like Colin, where she could half-rouse him awake, for he was far too weak.

He also seemed to weigh a ton. Although Colin was stockier, Draco wasn't exactly a lightweight, she quickly realized. Also, she was at least double her exhaustion from when she'd found him, the magic taking its toll. Tears of frustration jumped to her eyes. How in the world was she going to get him home, when she could feel the life draining away as she sat here, useless?

The anger bristled along her skin, and before she knew it, she felt the seamless shimmer of her skin morphing into shiny black fur, her body twisting as she thumped to stand on all her four paws. She looked down at her body, and let out a 'mew' of relief. Thank Merlin some 'behind the scenes' part of her was still working, because although turning into her Animangus was the obvious answer, she wasn't sure she'd thought of it in her frazzled state.

She grasps Draco by the back of his shirt and gingerly began to drag him back through the forest. She wasn't concerned anyone was going to attack them because first, they were likely dealing with their own demons and second she was a panther. If she was a human, she didn't think she'd want to deal with one of those either.

She made it back into the clearing, and dragged Draco into the bubble of protection. He had stopped twitching halfway back, and when she touched her nose to his skin, it felt icy-cold.

She closed her eyes, willing herself, and flopped back to her human self. A sharp jolt of pain on her side made her wince. She hadn't even thought about keeping her stitches in tact while changing, and they'd burst while she was a panther and changing back. Hissing, she grabbed a cloth they'd used to clean her, and pressed it against her side, buckling on her knees, biting her lip as perspiration beaded on her forehead.

She looked at Colin, still out of it, although he seemed to be moving a bit.

She looked at Draco, and with a sticky red finger, fished out the vial, setting it before her. For once in Hermione Granger's life, she had no idea what to do next.

"Colin!" She kicked a leg out, nudging his side with a little bit of force, "Wake up."

Colin muttered, sitting up and rubbing his head. After gathering his bearings a bit, his finger flew to his nose, and he rubbed anxiously, and looked relieved when he came back empty.

His eyes traveled to Draco, and his face lost all the bright color it usually had.

"It he-?"

"I don't know? Technically, maybe? There hasn't been a cannon." Hermione was in near hysterics, half from the pain of her side, half from not knowing how to save him. She wasn't the doctor, he was!

"Is that his soul?" Colin's eyes widened as he snatched up the vial, "Oh my god."

"What do we do? I never took Soul Reinserting 101 at Hogwarts!" Hermione snapped.

"You thought I did?" Colin fired back, just as heated by her tone, "This bad, Hermione. Can it even be done?"

The question hung in the air, like a sickness that spread violently and quickly. It made Hermione feel ill. She never had even asked herself that. What if it couldn't be done? What if Draco was already dead and gone, and she'd been trying to save a corpse this whole time.

There was a moment of absolute silence as Hermione and Colin stared at the jar, both unsure of how to proceed, or even if they should.

A cannon sound knocked them both into action, as they both lunged to feel Draco's pulse, Hermione at his neck, and Colin at his wrist. There was a long, tense second where Hermione felt nothing, but then...there it was...the faintest of heartbeats.

"Should it be coming that sporadically?" Colin asked.

"No." Her throat was dry, "He's dying. He's not dead yet, but he will...we have to try...something!"

Colin turned around and kicked the wall, letting out a hiss of anger. He hit the wall of the cave too, but since it was made of dirt, it didn't hurt him much. This seemed to frustrate Colin more than if it had left cuts. She didn't think he'd be getting so upset over Draco dying, even if he had saved his life. He'd saved hers too, and she was more so annoyed that she was useless now. Colin's anger seemed to transcend this, something deeper she couldn't quite grasp.

She picked up the vial again, staring at it, and staring at Draco.

"Please, someone, help..." She whispered, looking up at the starry sky. How was his father not sending down anything and everything on the Dementor's Kiss right now? She didn't understand.

"Okay, okay." Colin turned back around, "What are most things counteracted by, in general. All magic?" He asked.

"The opposite of something." Hermione answered immediately, the item of trivia as second hand as breathing to her, trying to connect this with the soul.

"What's the opposite of a Dementor's Kiss?"

"Colin, I don't think that this-,"

"Dammit, Hermione. Do you have a better idea?" He growled, a feral part of him Hermione did not recognize. She didn't, but they didn't have all day to try different approaches. They basically had one singular shot to save Draco's life before it would be too late. She knew that when someone got the Dementor's Kiss, they were alive, but stayed as a vegetable.

Draco was dying though. Had he been hurt in a way they didn't know? Did they take more than the usual, because they were not under the Ministry's control? Was this difference vital to saving him? She looked at him, and something inside of her hurt terribly at the idea of loosing him. It might just have been her side, still bleeding, but she liked to think it was something more.

"Fine. Life, obviously." She played Colin's game; quite sure it would lead them nowhere. As it was, he paused at her answer, studying Hermione intently.

"Love." He whispered hoarsely, "That's what life's all about, right? Love and kiss equals..." He trailed off. Hermione gave him a look to indicate she thought he was bonkers.

"True love's kiss? You're joking right now. That's for fairytales."

"It's magic. There have been instances." Colin defended his theory.

"Fine. Say it's true. It wouldn't work for us." She said, "I don't love him, you don't love him, you see?" Colin was unusually quiet. He opened his mouth, but then closed it. Then he looked at Draco, then to Hermione, and a light seemed to pop into his head.

"But...it might work the other way around. Does it have to work both ways? Can the love of one side be strong enough to save the other? Even if the person's not really awake, I mean, the love doesn't vanish...it's still there."

The air seemed much thicker in the cavern. "What are you implying?" Her question felt like she was just exhaling air, the question so light and quiet it scarcely existed. Colin's eyes were firm, with a tinge of guilt as he looked at Draco, then to her again before he spoke.

"I'm not implying anything, Hermione. I'm telling the truth. Draco's in love with you." He said, and Hermione felt her whole body freeze up. How did she take this information? Where did she take it? Did she even entertain the idea it might be true, as unlikely as she thought it to be? She thought he hated her, didn't he, because she killed Blaise? Was Colin just making it up?

"You have to try, at least." Colin interrupted her train of thought, "I mean, it's not like I can do it." There was a bitter note in his voice; something Hermione wanted to pursue now, but knew it wasn't the time.

Hermione sat back on her haunches, and winced.

"You're bleeding." Colin realized, "That's not good."

"We can't think of me now. It won't kill me. Draco will fix it, when we wake him." She made her voice firm, authoritative. In reality, she wasn't sure Draco would survive this. That they'd be able to figure it out. That she could save him. But if she let those fears in now...she'd never find her way out.

"What do we do?" She asked Colin.

"I'm not the 'smartest witch of my age'," Colin looked at her like she was mad, "I'm just Colin."

"And you're the one that gave us the idea. I don't know where to start either."

"Maybe...take the soul out?" Colin said, and before Hermione could stop him, he unscrewed the cap, and tilted the jar. The soul fluttered out, moving like a slow-moving liquid, and sat upon his palm.

"Wow..." he breathed, "Here, take it." He shoved it at Hermione. She found herself with the soul in her hands before she could even begin to protest. It was so light, airy. She didn't expect this of someone who seemed to have taken such a dark path, a family that lived and breathed for Voldemort. She was sure if she could hold Pansy's soul, it would be as heavy as lead.

What would hers be?

"Tell me what to do." She whispered under her breath. Maybe Draco could hear her, maybe he couldn't? But perhaps the soul was of him in such a way she'd just...know how to save him.

"Maybe this is the part you kiss him." Colin broke in.

"Yes, you're right. Of course. The kiss." Hermione wasn't sure how she felt about it, 'true love's kiss', something she didn't believe in to begin with, and certainly not regarding her. Did she put the soul in first? That's how it came out, so shouldn't it go back in that way?

Yet as she began to move it, it warmed when it reached the area over his heart. She pressed the soul with her palm gently against his chest...but it stayed, unmoving.

"Kiss him." Colin hissed. Hermione threw him a dirty look, because a kiss was not going to change anything, obviously, but leaned down.

His lips were deathly cold, and Hermione felt like she was kissing an ice-block. Yet as she connected with his mouth, there was a give, a tug on the soul. A shudder of a want, a yearning of a pull. She kissed a little bit more, and the soul tugged down, hard. She jolted back, pressing it down with all her might, feeling like she was shoving something through a hole it didn't quite belong through. Wild, light blue lights exploded in the den, and Colin scrambled back, cowering, before realizing it likely wouldn't hurt him.

Hermione's hands burned like fire, but she kept on, and sparks of the blue seemed to crackle at her eyes, like she had gotten too close to the bonfire during her holidays near the beach. It shown brighter than before, a white blinding light, and in that moment Hermione could feel his heart, the softest and saddest little puff of a jolt, before it began to beat wildly, a force like an untamed stallion.

Then, the light vanished, and the soul wasn't in Hermione's fingers.

Draco shot upward with a loud and audible gasp, his fingers moving all of his body in astonishment.

"I'm alive." He breathed, over and over, "Holy fuck, I'm alive." Then, he noticed Colin, still fallen over in surprise who was glancing between him and Hermione with the stupidest smile on his face, and Hermione, still bleeding, eyes wide with shock she couldn't even speak of.

"What the hell happened?" He demanded. Hermione couldn't speak; she was trying to make sense of everything all at once and her brain felt as though it was going to fry. It had been one of the most sensual (but not in a particularly sexual way), but yet enlightening experiences she'd even been privy to, and she wasn't sure how she felt on the matter.

Finally, Colin wheezed out a strangled chuckle, "About that..."