The Green Games: Chapter Twenty-Two (Dramione)

Draco sat up abruptly, eyes narrowed toward the tree line; hands caught way in between skinning the rabbit Colin had caught. Colin, who was already salivating just thinking about it, noticed immediately when Draco's actions paused; he was looking forward to eating that thing as quickly as possible.

"What?" Colin finally asked after what seemed like eons of Draco sitting rigid and emotionless. Draco let out a little hiss, almost feline like, and Colin raised an eyebrow.

"Pansy." He spat, shoving the squirrel aside and standing.

"…What?" Colin was too confused to worry about the squirrel, frankly he was wondering if Draco had gone bonkers. He did not see any smidgen of Pansy, nor did he hear anything other than a really irritating bird out there. Unless Pansy was the bird…?

"I can feel her. She's prowling around close to here. It's been bothering me all day, I'm an idiot for not realizing it until now!" He stomped on the ground, shaking his head angrily.

"You can feel her?" Colin chuckled, raising a singular eyebrow.

"Yes, you perv, her magical signature." Draco spun around, sighing in exasperation, "I can feel almost everyone's, although most times I don't know who it is. I only just figured out that it was hers that was interfering with my thoughts. Figures; Pansy is annoying even on the subconscious level." He said, throwing up his hands.

"Whoa. Can you feel my magical profile or whatever?" Colin asked, grinning. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"I've spent enough time with you to be able to find it in my sleep, Creevey. You reek of fire and glitter."

"Fire and glitter?" Colin objected loudly, "Fire and-,"

"Hush!" Draco growled to him, although behind their little bubble of protection, no one could hear him. Colin thought it might merely be Draco was irritated with him. Well Colin was irritated with him back! Fire and glitter, of all the ridiculous things he'd ever heard. Colin wasn't even gay. And could you smell glitter? Unlikely.

"Can't you feel it?" Draco waved his hand around, "Her's is overpowering." He wrinkled his nose. Colin stood firm, closing his eyes and outstretching his hand. He wasn't sure why, perhaps it was what he was supposed to do.

He couldn't feel anything though, not when there was suddenly the acute and acidic smell of burning plastic and decaying meat. He stumbled back, covering his nose.

"Merlin what's that awful smell?" He hissed, and forgot to not inhale; yet when he did, the scent was gone.

"Pansy." Draco said flatly.

"Crap." Colin stared out into the forest in wonder, "I can't even feel yours, mate." He turned apologetically to Draco.

"I'm good at masking it." Draco shrugged, "But Pansy's? It's overpowering. She's close, or she's done something awful."

"Why's it so strong? I didn't think she was that good at magic." Colin questioned.

"She's not…really." Draco twiddled with his thumbs, "She does know how to summon darker magic's, though. It's like burning through dark magic; it leaves an awful smell, especially when it's powerful. Like burning out logs on a campfire. Good magic usually leaves nice smells." He added, already anticipating Colin's question. Colin looked at the darkening sky.

"What…what now?" He asked, but he already was guessing (and dreading) Draco's answer.

Draco snatched up a knife from the ground, turning to Colin, "I'm going to find her." He said.

"I thought you weren't killing anyone." Colin jumped in front of him. He had actually come to understand Draco in an odd way, and whenever he talked about Pansy, his whole self seemed to disappear under his anger towards her. He'd hate to see him lose what he truly loved by choosing to kill someone. Daphne's death was understandable, at least to him.

"Protection, Creevey." Draco looked surprised that Colin would even jump to that conclusion, "Magic isn't the only thing she's decent at. Do you not recall the knives exercise? Besides, if it comes down to it, you'll kill her."

Draco pushed past Colin, as though he hadn't just said something totally unexpected, and Colin was momentarily stunned.

"Why?" Colin's strangled question was more fearful than he'd wished it were.

"Lavender. Don't you want to get back?"

"Pike killed her." Colin sighed, shaking his head.

"Under Pansy's orders. She's a disease, Colin. The sooner we stop her, the sooner we can survive. Even if there's two of us left, of each blood type, she'll never stop." Draco said, shoving the machete into Colin's hands.

Draco walked out of the protective circle, and Colin hovered behind.

"Can't we talk about this?" He called, jumping from the boundary line, immediately regretting it as his body began to shake.

"What is there to talk about? You either stay behind like a coward, or you come with me." Draco demanded. Then he parted the vines and vanished into the forest.

Colin was indecisive for much longer than he should have been. He even turned back a bit and tried to re-enter the circle (cough, to get more supplies, of course) but found it blocked. Draco wasn't even giving him a choice. Damn him.

Colin threw the machete into the ground in anger, before swiping it back up and quietly trailing Malfoy.

"Good, you made it." Draco commented when he found the blond boy sitting under a tree.

"You blocked the cave." Colin glared at him. Draco made a small tutting noise.

"You disappoint me, Creevey."

They crept through the undergrowth for a bit, until they stumbled across a clearing. Before Colin could say anything, Draco had shot out a bush, and had grabbed a figure by the neck. Pike.

"Draco!" Colin hissed, wondering what in the world had gotten into him. Corner was also lying around, although neither looked particularly with it. Pike would have put up much more of a fight, on any occasion, expect for the fact he seemed oddly…sleepy? Colin jumped in, keeping a careful eye on Corner, and Draco grabbed the knife from Colin's fingers. Before Pike could shake the sleep away, and something about this sleep just felt…off, Draco had savagely backed him up into a tree, the knife at his neck.

"Where's Pansy." Draco demanded, his lips curling back into a snarl.

"I don't know! When we went to sleep, she was with us, I swear!" Pike was looking frantically around the circle, and seemed overwhelmed and very out of it. Colin believed his story, even though Draco scoffed in his face.

"Like that's true. Where is she, Webber?" He said, pressing the knife harder against his neck. Colin was sure that Draco would have enough restraint to keep from killing Pike, so he didn't worry. It was a scare mechanism if anything.

In the meantime, Colin approached Corner. He poked the boy, and Corner didn't even move.

"What's wrong with him?" Colin asked, pointing to Corner, gathering Pike's rapidly switching attention.

"I…I don't know. I'm just…so tired. What day is it?" Pike asked, blubbering. So he wasn't as confident as he seemed, of course, Colin realized. Still it angered him, knowing this was the man who brutally tortured Lavender. Sadism like that wasn't a one-time thing.

"Oh, real funny." Draco rolled his eyes, "I'm going to ask again- where is Pansy?"

Colin had wandered over to a place where he felt the familiar putrid smell that he'd felt earlier. If he were as engrossed in Pike as Draco was, he likely would have missed it. He didn't want to go over there, but he could see something etched hastily in the ground.

He read it once, then again. He read it a third time, as though those letters on the ground were hieroglyphs instead of English. It wasn't until the fourth time he comprehended it. He cussed in his head.

"Draco!" He said, and the usage of the Slytherin's first name caused Draco to look over sharply at him.

"What?" He demanded, making meaningful eye contact at Pike. Colin coughed, motioning to the ground. Draco muttered angrily as he forced Pike in front of him, patting him down and taking four knives off him at least before shoving him over there. He pushed Pike onto his knees in front of the writing, a foot in the valley of his back.

"Gone to kill some mudbloods. I won't be long. Pansy." Draco read-out loud, and by the end, his voice had reached a panicked sound. He whipped out a sheet he had in his pocket.

"The only muggle borns left are well, you Pike, and your sorry ass is still alive. You Colin, but she wasn't going toward our safe haven, even if she did know. That does leave…" He swallowed hard, "Elizabeth and Hermione."

Colin had come to the same conclusion, and gave Draco a look that held a million questions. Before Draco could do anything, below them, Pike gave a rough laugh.

"About time. That Gryffindor bitch will have it coming. She killed Blaise, you know?" He asked wickedly, straining as he twisted his neck up to look at Draco, "Doesn't that piss you off? Weren't you two like brothers?" He goaded.

Draco didn't answer, but Colin could see the anger rising steadily in his eyes at the comment. Things about the whole Blaise and Hermione situation were still not okay. Colin pushed Pike's head back down angrily for Draco, back bristled.

"Shut it, Pike, or else it will be the last thing you say." He threatened. Pike didn't seem convinced on Colin's threat, but only chuckled under his breath.

Draco was searching the ground, and Colin followed his gaze. They say the inch-deep footprints in the mud at the same time, and had two drastically different reactions. Draco dropped Pike and ran off, and Colin jumped to grab Pike again.

"What am I supposed to do with them?" Colin yelled after his rapidly vanishing figure.

"Figure it the hell out and find me after!" Draco called back. Colin rubbed a hand over his face. Sure, he wanted to find Hermione. Sure, he understood the necessity of timing that Pansy was now after Hermione, and he had a feeling she knew something about where she was that they didn't, or else she wouldn't have taken off like that. But Draco was acting erratically, and if he didn't have Colin to clean up after him, he might find his head sliced off.

He worried about Draco barging in to Pansy, guns blazing but no ammo.

Colin knocked Pike out with the butt of the machete. He grabbed some vines off the trees, using a strengthen spell Draco had taught him, and pushed them both sitting against a larger tree. He tied it securely around their slumped forms, and bit his lip. It wouldn't hold forever, but it would at least keep them off their trail for a little bit of time. Draco and Colin could possibly take Pansy alone. If Pansy got her backup? Things could get really, really bad.

Colin took one last look at the boys tied up and turned to run after Draco.

He just hoped they found Hermione before Pansy did.

THEGREENGAMES

There was a tinkling noise and Hermione looked up.

She didn't want to admit it, but yes...Hermione might have been sulking in the shadows. She knew she was useless with this leg, and she knew that Seamus would be much faster on his own...but that didn't stop her from wishing she could be out there too.

It wasn't even as though the cave was bad. It wasn't well lit, but it wasn't as though Hermione was doing much that needed light anyway. It wasn't cold or too warm, so she never felt the awful temperatures the game makers forced upon the arena. The ground wasn't even all that gritty and she had yet to see anything other than a couple bugs skittering around.

It didn't quite matter though, for Hermione abhorred sitting with nothing to do.

She got up, and saw a package caught halfway down on the crawl area she had made with Seamus. She dragged herself over, for even if this package wasn't for her, she was likely going to open it. Perhaps it had water, or food!

But when she saw the Weasley's Wheeze's label pasted on the side of the jar, she let a wide grin split across her face. Fred had pulled through. And it was just like him, sending it directly to her. He was the sort of person that wouldn't risk anything.

There was just one word on the back instructions that Hermione could make out in the dimness of where her sleeping bags were.

'Slather'.

She sat back, and scooped up a couple finger-full of the goop, and with her free hand, lifted her pants to her knees. She didn't know how it worked, and she would have full time to ask later, but she genuinely trusted Fred that what she was about to do was safe and would help her.

But Merlin, did it burn.

She bit her lip and continued to rub it into her skin, over the sore areas and the bumpy exterior of her skin where the bones jut out unnaturally. Almost immediately, the pain lessened, melting away to a throbbing feeling someone got after an invigorating run. She lay back, panting as she let the medicine work.

The burning lasted longer than she could count. She didn't try to move, nor check it, just followed the cracks in the ceiling of the cave with her eyes until the numbing stopped.

When she looked up, she could tell quite easily that the swelling had stopped and shrunk, and the color of the bruises was already turning into the yellowing tones of an old bruise. She went to put the container back into the tin it came in, thinking it would best be stored there, when her fingers brushed against a note. She put the tin into her jacket pocket as her interested was piqued.

In her excitement of receiving medicine, Hermione had overlooked it. She tried to see the tiny scrawls, but her eyes couldn't adjust that much.

There was likely enough light by the crawl-hole, she figured, and so thus it came to the moment of truth; she stood hesitantly.

Her leg still hurt, although not like before. Not like a broken hurt, but more as though a rough and sore muscle hurt. It was obviously there, and her legs nearly buckled with the first step, but as far as she could tell, the worst of it was gone.

She would have to do something really nice for Fred if she won this. He might have just saved her life.

She walked over to the light, and such a relief flowed through her that it nearly made her giddy. Who would have thought just a few short hours without being able to walk would make her so glad to have it back?

She held the light into the light, grinning, because she could have recognized Fred's handwriting in an instant. Well, it looked mostly like his brother's handwriting, but there was a way Fred looped his letters and flourished the lines that was so different and more dignified than Ron's chicken scrawl.

More so, it wasn't as though she recognized Fred's handwriting itself, but she saw the form of it. She'd read over enough of Ron's papers at Hogwarts to be able to nearly copy his hand to a t, as she'd started doing after awhile for she didn't trust Ron to fix mistakes himself. She doubted the teachers ever knew.

She could see, farther than that, Molly's handwriting in both of theirs. It made sense, for she taught all her children to read and write at home instead of in school, as Hermione- a muggle- was taught. It was odd to imagine that all her children's hands had turned to be so similar yet so different. Each reflected their personalities. Hermione recalled seeing Percy's handwriting third year, and had found it stuffy and straight up in a more annoying way than her own. He couldn't have been that stuffed up, she reckoned, for he had died in the first games.

She swallowed, bringing the paper down before she read it. How was it that she was able to have these thoughts so...so casually? It really hadn't been that long since George or Fred's death. Hardly anytime to mourn.

She brought the paper back up, shaking those thoughts from her head. She could sit and be sad about the first games all she wanted, but it wouldn't help her now in the games she was currently in. Furthermore, if she thought about the first games to hard, she'd think of Harry, and that would be the end of her rationality for quite awhile.

The letter was written hastily, but the fact he'd taken the time to write a note to her at all was more comforting than anything else. It was easy to forget he was still alive, somewhere out there, fighting for her and Ron to come home all the time.

"Hermione," She began to read out loud, her voice echoing around the empty cavern, only slightly masked by the rushing of the waves below her, "I hope this helps. Something I made on the fly, after Seamus so vividly described your leg. Yuck. Anyway, I really hope you get this, since you're pretty much off-grid. We're guessing your location as it is. Don't die. Really, don't. If you need anything else at all, just ask. Yours, Fred."

She smiled, letting the words sink in for a moment. She had read it in his voice. Such a Fred-like voice. The most Fred-like was his 'Don't die' part. As if that had ever been a question of anything, she chuckled.

She brought the note to the light again. She hoped Seamus would return soon. She was really hungry now, after her body had gone through the process of speed-healing her leg. And so thirsty. She swallowed, finding her own saliva more of a relief than she ever had before.

There were voices above her.

At first, she shrank back into the shadows, ready to hid or fight if someone was coming down, but realized they were going in passing. Creeping forward, she listened, holding her breath to try to decipher the words.

"Why is this way the way to go?"

"Well, you're not leading, are you? I suppose we're aimlessly wandering."

Hermione's eyes widened in joy- those voices were Ron and Elizabeth, but they were already vanishing as they walked right above her. Elizabeth was alive! It was the first of anything concrete she'd had since Ernie's death, and Hermione wasn't going to let this chance go. Besides, Ron was there too, and Luna likely too. She could bring them down, have them reconnect with Seamus. She could make an unstoppable team again.

She got down, and used a thick stick to write in the muddy, gritty ground.

"Found Elizabeth. Tracking her down. I'll be back, I promise." She hummed to herself as she wrote, and then spun around.

The crawl out to the surface seemed so much bigger now that she thought about doing it herself. Daunting even. Her leg still hurt, but if anything happened to any of them, and Hermione didn't find them, she'd never forgive herself. Seamus had to understand.

She grabbed the first rock, haling herself upwards and onto the stones. Then another shove. And another. To her, it had seemed more diagonally going, but now that she was making the crawl herself, it seemed as though it was vertically up.

She cut her hand, it stung. She shook it and resisted the urge to lick it, and put it back on the rocks to steady her with a hiss of pain. Now her leg and her hands hurt. She would need to clean that as soon as possible, to prevent infection.

Halfway through, she feared they'd be long-gone by the time she made it up. This did not deter her, or make her consider going back to the safety of the cavern, but instead crawl and scramble faster.

The air up here was clean.

She didn't even pause to catch her breath as she went in the direction she'd heard their voices. There wasn't a moment to lose, not if she didn't want to lose Elizabeth all over again.

She didn't even consider that there might be dangers lurking about.

THEGREENGAMES

Seamus arrived back to the cave a little before nightfall. He'd gotten a lot of food and as much water as he could carry. He wasn't sure if Fred would get the medicine to Hermione, or if it would even work. He didn't know how long they'd have to stay down there- at least a day, to avoid Pansy- and he wanted Hermione to be well satisfied and comfortable.

He slid back down, and his eyes blinked in the darkness. He wasn't adjusted, but he had his voice.

"Hermione?"

Silence.

Fear crept along his stomach, as he wanted anxiously for his eyes to adjust, calling her name again, but there was nothing but the rushing of the river. He stumbled over to their sleeping bags and things. She wasn't there, but it was all as he'd left it. Hermione would never be so careless to leave without any provisions, would she? This made him really worry.

"Hermione!" He yelled, for who as going to hear him all the way down here, "Hermione, this isn't funny, luv! Please, tell me you're oka-," There was something scrawled in the ground. He expected the worst. He expected a taunt from Pansy, a cruelly written note about Hermione's incoming demise.

Instead, it was her own writing.

He read it, and cussed.

This is what you get when you fall in love with a Gryffindor.

She wasn't in her right mind, not when Hermione was set on a task. Everything else was second-tier to her, and she usually shut it all out. He'd seen it during tests; a fire could go off, and Hermione would sit and continue to take her exam, only looking up if her quill caught to flame, theoretically. She would be less perceptive than usual. And if the medicine had worked at all, he wondered if she was in at pain. Pain also numbed the senses.

Worse, she had no idea Pansy was stalking her.

He had to find her!

Turning around, he lunged up the rock entrance, forcing himself up in record time. Yet by the time he found his way up, it was dark out.

It was dangerous.

He saw fresh footprints in the mud, which he'd seen coming in, but never would have guessed they were Hermione's.

Anyone but Hermione's.

He followed the tracks like a bloodhound, but they were uneven and scattered, because Hermione was running. They curved over fallen trees, around streams, and through bushes. Little tree branches slapped his face, nicking his skin in tiny slivers of red. Debris got caught in his hair, and he blinked away leaves from his vision, shoving them down from his face. Thorns caught on his clothes as he passed, pricking his legs and making him wince, but he continued on.

In a perfect world, he would fine Hermione with Elizabeth and they'd go back down to the cavern and wait it all out. In a slightly imperfect word, he'd find Hermione or just Elizabeth and neither would let him take them to safety without the other, if Elizabeth knew Hermione was looking for her, and the would be safer in pairs with his knowledge than alone. In a less than perfect world?

"Yeh can't thin' like that." He told himself angrily. Truth be told, with Hermione dead, he wasn't sure what any point of the games would be. He chalked up his survival for so long as not only Gryffindor stubbornness, but also the sheer power of will to see Hermione just at least once more.

Did he ever imagine that everything that had happened between them would have, ever? Well, perhaps in some of his more...ahem...salacious dreams, but those were merely dreams.

He caught sight of Hermione up ahead, and she seemed untouched, still alive- well there had been no cannons, but by some luck of Godric she wasn't hurt either. The sigh of relief he let out was loud, and much needed. He felt a bubble of laughter rise inside of him. Luck had been on his side so far, hadn't it?

But not so, because there, just a couple feet above where Hermione was, lurked Pansy. And she'd seen Hermione.

Watching Pansy was like watching a panther stalking. She was calculated and silent, with death in her eyes. She wasn't going to make a scene, and she'd pounce, and if Hermione weren't paying attention, it would all too quickly be over.

It didn't even seem as though she had a weapon, although he wasn't putting it past her to pull a knife from her boot or something.

He just knew he had to save Hermione.

Calling to Hermione would do no good. Pansy would attack, and Hermione's reflexes weren't that good. He was too far away to join in a fight with her, because between the two of them they maybe had a chance, but he could get to Pansy first.

Seamus didn't know what he was going to do as he ducked through the trees; he just knew he was terrified. Wet-yer-pants type of terrified. Pansy was no small threat.

He didn't have a weapon either, except- oh, oh yes! His fire!

It was strong, which was odd, because he was shaking all the way down to his feet. Usually when he was scared, he could only produce a measly flicker. But perhaps it was the thought of keeping Hermione safe that let his fire do so; the power of love was stronger than the power of fear.

He was right behind Pansy, about to, well he wasn't sure- maybe grab her or set her hair on fire, when she spun around, nostrils flaring.

Shit...he was downwind.

"Seamus?" She whispered, grinning, momentarily forgetting about Hermione. Yes, that's what he needed, what he wanted. He danced back as she grabbed at him, but found himself against a tree. He dove under Pansy as she leaped at him, and felt his foot catch on some branches.

"Hermione!"

Hermione looked up, terrified, "Run!" He said again, but she stayed frozen in place, stumbling forward of all the stupid things to do.

He felt Pansy's tiny hands around his neck, so much stronger than he ever thought they could be. But there was something else to her grasp, something much darker and sinister that made his eyes roll back in pure revulsion of the feeling running through his veins. As her grip tightened, the world slowed.

His third birthday, the first day he remembered. His older brothers laughing and his mother in fits at the charred cake with his chubby handprints seared into the now crisp frosting.

His Hogwarts letter, just as his brothers-already graduated-before him had told him. He'd almost begun to think it was never going to come.

Meeting Hermione for the first time, and Merlin, she was still just as beautiful.

The Yule Ball where Hermione stopped everyone on that dance floor, even Malfoy, and he realized he'd never be with her, but damn, he was going to take a chance if he ever got it.

The games sped up, until the night in the cave. The feeling of her fingers linked in his own, her flushed cheeks and glimmering eyes, his feeling of euphoria because this is what heaven felt like, he was sure of it.

His eyes met Hermione's, who was still stagnate in the spot she'd risen from.

He gave a warm last smile; there was no way else he'd rather go, ken.

"I love-,"

His neck snapped. The world went black.

THEGREENGAMES

Hermione hadn't found them. The world was dark. Everything was not going right, and she kicked a rock over a precipice hard. It clattered to the bottom.

It was useless, wasn't it? She had been so preoccupied with finding Elizabeth, she hadn't been paying any attention to where she had come from, and now the forest looked unfamiliar. She wasn't sure she could have found her way back at all, at this point. And Seamus was probably worried sick, and he had a right to be.

She was so angry with herself it made her want to cry.

Hadn't she been here before? Preoccupied? Caught up in the happiness of a moment that she'd forgotten the dangers of the area. That up in the real world, everything was dark and deadly and nothing was good? It was how she'd lost Elizabeth the first time.

Maybe she should try to find her way back. But maybe Seamus was already looking for her. She'd been gone about an hour, plenty of time for Seamus to return and be frantic. She'd expected to catch up with them in about fifteen minutes, but their voices were nowhere and neither were any signs they'd wandered through. She did wonder if maybe, she'd been so eager for something, she'd imagined it.

The hairs rose on the back of her neck, and her heart skipped a beat. Something was telling her something, but what, she couldn't-

"Hermione!"

Seamus' scream was like nothing she'd ever heard; anguished, afraid, desperate, and pleading. She jumped around, eyes wide, and saw Seamus on the ground, Pansy above him. She couldn't think; nay she couldn't breathe.

"Run!"

The words penetrated somewhere in her mind, but they lost themselves quickly in the bedlam of what she was seeing. How had she not noticed at all?

Pansy's fingers tightened around his neck. The shadows around them laughed and the cold feeling breezed through the area. Dark Magic, Hermione was sure of it.

She saw Seamus register her fingers, and she knew even if she moved, nothing she could do could save him.

He smiled. How could he be smiling? His lips moved, but she couldn't make out the words and then-

-And then Hermione screamed as his neck snapped too far to the left, and the cannon went off.

The darkened spirits in the shadows remained, and Hermione shook. Seamus had died. Seamus was dead. He was killed. He was murdered. She said the sentence in every variation she could think of, but nothing at all seemed real.

Pansy looked between them; Seamus' glassy eyes and the black spots on his neck where the dark magic had flowed from her fingers and onto his skin, and Hermione' face.

"You two? Merlin let me barf." She barked, shuddering dramatically, "Well, don't worry. You'll see him soon enough, you know."

Hermione stumbled back.

She had no weapons. She couldn't run. But she had to try to fight. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew Seamus had stopped Pansy from killing her before she got the chance. Now she had it.

She wasn't going to waste it.

As soon as the thought hit her, such anger pummeled through her. Not like the anger when Ernie was stabbed, or the faux-anger when she ate the berries. This was more intense than either of those times, and it was all real. Every evil thought of the way she could kill Pansy were entirely her own, and she let them come. She let them come because otherwise she'd lose that anger and be useless.

She took the first hit. She hit Pansy, in fact, dead on the face. Her fingers made a cracking sound as they connected with Pansy's cheekbone, and it smarted as she fisted her hands again.

"You bitch."

Pansy seemed momentarily shocked, rubbing her cheekbone and staring wide-eyed at Hermione. Then, her surprise dissolved, and she chuckled.

"I like playing with my food. They don't usually fight back, though." Pansy informed her, and kicked forward. Pansy's foot connected with her gut, and with an 'oomph' Hermione stumbled back. The wind shot out of her mouth, and she was catching her breath when Pansy kicked her again.

She rolled away, but not fast enough, because Pansy stomped down on her hand hard. There was a crunching sound as her bones in her fingers broke, and she screamed. She was loosing. The anger was keeping her alive, but for how much longer? Soon, would the pain not eclipse her anger? And her hand, it was her hand she did wandless magic with. It was rendered useless now, a bloody sinewy mess of red.

But then, she thought of Seamus' face, his lips as he mouthed something to her, and in her mind, she saw it.

I love you.

She kicked Pansy out from above her, and the girl landed on her stomach on the ground. Hermione took the chance to jump on top of her, and they tussled on the ground, clawing and biting and pulling hair like catty girls, but with much more venom and intention to harm. Hermione managed to pin Pansy down and hit her over and over again. She'd never thought she had it in her, to wail on someone like those boys did in movies where the person under them bleed and bleed, but now...she couldn't stop herself. She didn't want to stop herself.

Pansy wasn't a pimply-teenage boy though, and managed to get back on top. She grabbed Hermione's neck and no-Hermione refused to go this way too. Her vision spun as Pansy's fingers dug into her neck and cut off her air, and something glimmered in the grass.

She must be hallucinating now; it was too perfect.

It was the dagger promised for her, her name on the hilt in perfect letters, half-buried on the ground.

What were the chances?

But...it was the only chance she had.

Her fingers flayed out, and she connected with metal. Holy Hufflepuff, it was real!

She grabbed it and swung it aimlessly. It connected with Pansy's arm, and it was apparently deep and strong enough for Pansy to look her grip on her. She cried, and Hermione took the chance to duck away. As her sense returned, she realized the best move would have been to stab Pansy somewhere in the chest where some real damage could be done, but at least she was still alive.

Hermione rubbed her neck, and lashed out. She stayed low, and managed to knick the back of Pansy's Achilles' heel with a driving strike. Pansy stumbled, yowling in pain as blood poured from the back of her foot, and Hermione took the opportunity to stab Pansy in the chest.

Pansy looked at the dagger in her chest, and Hermione stumbled back an inch. But then, Pansy grinned, and took the dagger out. Hermione was too foggy to know if she'd hit anywhere it hurt. Maybe she'd bleed out. But Pansy wasn't going to meekly run away; even if she was going down, she was taking some people with her.

Hermione stumbled back, but Pansy grabbed her arm. She took the dagger, and dug it deep into Hermione's side, twisting it as she went.

Hermione opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out at all. It was just empty air. She fell back, and her foot went off the precipice. She couldn't stop herself as she tumbled all the way to the bottom.

She looked up dizzily at Pansy, who was holding a hand firmly over her own wound and looking a little off-balance, and spat down at her.

"Say hello to Finnegan in hell, Granger." Pansy hissed. She was either too wounded too finish or assumed the trip down the ravine would be useless, for Hermione would be dead soon anyway. Hermione had a feeling it was a combination of the two. She watched as Pansy limped the other direction, leaving a bleeding trail behind her. The dark magic and the shadows re-treated with her.

It took Hermione a second, but when she did, tears sprung to her eyes.

She was going to die.

It was certain now, wasn't it? She was already so tired, and she wanted just to sleep. She forced her eyes open. She felt as though she should move, but when she tried, she realized she had no control over her limbs anymore. It's as though someone just snipped the connection away.

It was okay, though, where would she go anyway?

Maybe death wasn't so bad?

Seamus would be there, after all. And Harry. And Ernie. And Hannah. They'd all be waiting for her, if she were lucky.

Her hands were slumped at her side. She looked down, and just saw the 'Her' sticking out from her body. How ironic; killed by her own knife. They'd talk about this one for ages after. It would become a joke in years to come, to be 'Hermione'd' or for something to backfire. She could see it now.

Her eyelids fluttered. Everything hurt.

The deep night, however, did not.

THEGREENGAMES

Draco found the bloody trail after it happened.

"Shit." Colin whistled, looking at the ground, "What happened-oh."

"What?" Draco demanded, and Colin swallowed thickly. He was staring at an unmoving lump. Fear clung to Draco's skin. Was it Hermione?

It was just Seamus.

But at the same time, it wasn't just Seamus. Seamus as was in love with Hermione, was he not? And he'd been Colin's mate, and Colin was-

"It's okay." Draco muttered, seeing the younger boy straining not to cry, "You two were friends, yeah?"

Colin nodded mutely, but he let some salty tears trickle from his eyes as he sniffled.

Draco turned back, trying to get some clues about what possibly could have occurred.

"Either they're both banged up or one is on their deathbed. Maybe both." Draco said, examining the amount of blood on the ground.

Colin forced himself away from Seamus, moving toward Draco.

"The blood falls of the cliff, but I can't see down." He noticed, his voice small. Draco hadn't seen that.

"Good catch, Creevey." He said. Usually, Draco wasn't one to doll out compliments often, but hell, he'd just found his friend's dead body. Draco could be an okay guy when the time called for it, "I'm going down. You want a moment?" He asked. Colin thought about it, and nodded.

Draco nodded, showing Colin the path he found down the ravine, and made the tricky travel down it. It was a painstakingly long business; go too fast and he might risk a mudslide or to stumble all the way down. There seemed to be some thorny things along the way, something he'd rather not get all in his clothes. So far, most of his clothes were still impeccable.

They stunk thought, what he wouldn't give for a shower. Living like this was so uncivilized.

He found himself around the side of the cliff. There was a stumbling of rocks above him, and he saw Colin working his way down.

"I'm looking around!" Draco called up.

"Wait for me, I'm almost done." Colin had found his voice. Draco shrugged.

"Nah."

To his left, he heard a soft crying sound, a whimpering. Putting everything on alert, he crept forward, until he realized what he was looking at.

"Hermione..."

She didn't even register him at first. Her whole face was bruised, her lip split open. Her leg was bent at an awkward angle, and one of her hands was almost unrecognizable as a hand. Worst, there was a blade right through her.

She would be dead soon.

Yet, as awful and terrifying as this thought was, after he'd waited all this time to find her, his feet wouldn't move. He thought of Blaise, and the really terrible thought of merely turning the other way and taking Colin far away entered his mind as quickly as he banished it.

He still had thought about it, though, hadn't he?

He came forward, crouching beside her.

"Hermione." He said evenly, trying to betray nothing too much in his tone.

Her eyes blinked open and focused.

"Malfoy..." Her voice was rough and dry, and her eyes narrowed, "Come to gloat? Come to kill me?" She questioned.

"What?" Draco jumped back a bit, "Why would I...?"

"I can't even protect myself." Hermione turned her head to her hand, "No wandless magic left. No weapons either. Nothing." She sounded defeated, "Just...make it quick, please? I'm in agony." She whimpered.

"Why would I kill you?" Draco whispered, pained, staring at her. He'd never seen Hermione Granger broken. But before him now, she was, and it was the worst thing he'd ever seen.

"We talked about this. Before the games, on the balcony." Hermione said softly, "Why would I expect you to change?" She asked with a humorless laugh.

"I'm not...I don't..." Draco floundered for words.

"Draco..." Her voice was soft, and hearing his name on her lips...it was so melancholy, "Please."

Then her body slumped forward again. He frantically checked her pulse, realizing she wasn't dead, but likely had succumbed to the pain again, and fallen unconscious. He was holding her limp body when Colin entered.

"Maybe I should have gone first..." Colin said hesitantly, and Draco swung around.

"Grab her!" He demanded sharply.

"But you heard her. She's in agony. She's dying..."

"No." Draco shook his head firmly, "No. I just found her. Not now. I'm going to fucking save her." He insisted.

"Is there anything you can do?" Colin said, but he still moved forward.

"Of course! And did I say take you sweet time, Creevey, or did I say to freaking grab her?" He said, taking her front half, "She doesn't have a choice about it. I'm going to pull her through this."

THEGREENGAMES

The world spun. Hermione heard blimps and little bits of time. She remembered Draco coming into the clearing. He looked at her with such anger, such disgust. She'd originally wondered when he found her if maybe he'd be like the person she'd gotten to know on the balcony, in those mornings.

But when she saw the look of distain in his eyes, she knew it was all gone.

She could only hope for a swift death from him, but it didn't come.

What a bastard.

She felt herself being picked up. She heard Colin's voice, and thought she must be hallucinating now. What was Colin doing here?

She saw the trees above her as she was lifted. She saw every star glimmering, and they stayed on the backs of her eyelids as she fell unconscious to the most intense pain she'd ever felt.

She heard yelling after she was set down-demands being made, stinging things being put on her wounds, people prodding her and checking her. She awoke to find herself in a cave, and she wondered if she had willed herself back in her safe cave, but this one was all wrong. Even her mind was messed up now.

She felt someone touching the hilt of the dagger, because it moved slightly inside of her, and she cried out before falling under again. She came to when someone was wiping blood away.

She felt someone tugging on the dagger, and that's when she really went under.

Hermione's eyes snapped open, and she was no longer in the Green Games.

There were soft pink pillows underneath her head, and a cool comforter with cherry blossoms on top of her. There was her stuffed animal from when she was eight, a worn puppy, sitting in the corner. In front of her were her dresser, and the only unorganized thing in her room, her bookshelf. It went to the top of the ceiling, and books were smashed wherever they fit, lines of two, and on top of each other.

She turned her head to the right and saw the window and the warm summer sky out of the blinds, the pink curtains billowing with a slight breeze. She turned to the left and saw her desk, and her hamper. She could see the lime green paint on her walls, a stupid choice of a six-year old that now would rather paint her walls white, but when going to Hogwarts and only home at summers, what was really the point?

She was in her room at home. She could smell her mother's lasagna downstairs, and her father pacing around the halls as he thought about his work. She could hear the radio on, George Winston's summer album trailing through the house. She could hear the children outside, and the neighbor's yappy dog barking up a storm.

There was a buzzing in her mind that grew louder and louder with each second, until it was painful, and Hermione closed her eyes hard.

When she opened them again, she was not in the not-cave in the Games, not in her bedroom, nor anywhere else she knew.

No, Hermione Granger was somewhere else entirely.