The Green Games (Dramione)

t-7 Days; Part 4

Hermione tried to reconcile what she'd been seeing. How she'd been shut out from the very secretive conversation of those she thought to be her closest friends. If Harry-

She suppressed a sigh. Harry had always been the most secretive of any of them. And besides, it was foolish to imagine what he'd be like now, when there were so many years in between his death and now. For all she knew, he could have been a totally different person.

These games were, in a sick way, in his honor. But what had he been thinking, joining that rebellion with such vigor? She had woken and found him gone after he'd promised he wouldn't go. She told Dumbledore right away, but oh, it was too late. She'd known it in her bones, from the way that they just seemed to fall out of place and she was collapsing on the floor of the common room.

It was 3am and no one comforted her then; not until the morning when she was still there, and Dumbledore came back with the gravest look on his face. She had known, she had known. She knew that he would be caught, but she had simply then wished for a simple death. Her wish left hanging in the air.

She hadn't watched when the told her to. She looked when the Death Eaters turned her way, but at all other times she averted her eyes to the floor praying to every god she had ever heard of. If no one participated, they couldn't do much than pick them off but what looked like forces of nature, could they? But if the did that too much, they'd loose public opinion. Hermione was sure it wasn't just 'something' that snapped in Cho's mind. She was near positive that it was the doings of spell casters, and she was the closest and easiest to hit. She would be known now, though, as such horrid nicknames like 'Cho the Bloody' or 'Chilling Cho' for the bloodshed. She would become a phantom that haunted children's beds. She would be described as having long black hair that moved without wind, her hands dripping eternally with blood, her lips rouged from organs of humans, and a big hole from a spear where her heart should have been. That's how she went; a Hufflepuff threw a spear through her back, but it was an impeccable shot.

If they had known the Cho Hermione knew at school, those bedtimes scares would seen like the worst insult one could lay. Cho was ever smart, ever beautiful, and ever kind. It wasn't right that she was the result of trauma, lack of sleep, and some sort of stunner to the brain. If there wasn't any action, would that be her, Hermione pondered?

Of course there would be. There had been little problem with moving fourth the remainder of the games. Once they realized that if they didn't fight for their lives, it would be their lives. Secretly, everyone just wanted to live. They didn't want the fame or the money that came after, or the life of security from evils, they just wanted to see the next bloody sunrise. Friends turned to killers, and those she had thought to be upright people did what they did to survive. She always tried to avoid watching.

She opened the loo door, and stepped outside. People were beginning to mingle about the cabins, but, not surprisingly, there were not Slytherins to be found. It was better that way. Justin was the first person she saw, and she tapped his shoulder.

"How long until we arrive?" She asked. Justin turned with a jump, eyeing her warily. There was a change happening already; like he believed her to pull out a knife and kill him there.

"Two or so hours." He said, never blinking. She rolled her eyes.

"Thanks Justin," She said with a hard edge, if as to remind him the games hadn't started yet. Besides, she had no intention to kill him. She had no intention to kill anyone. So far, no female had won the games, but there was a general lack of them as it was. She reckoned if she lay low and waited for everyone to kill themselves while Hermione sat safe under the ground or in a tree, she should have enough sanity to just kill one or two when the time came. If she killed anymore, she wouldn't leave as Hermione.