The Green Games (Dramione)

Day 8; Part 1

Nothing much exciting happened between the darkest parts of the night into day; people lumbered about, ate this or that, slept, it was altogether seemingly a rather boring couple of hours for any late-night watchers at home.

What they did not know, what they could not see or feel, was how hot the area was steadily getting. Just as the day turned from the previous to the next, it came in strong bursts, like fire burning only feet away from one's skin. As the sky turned slowly, light blazing across the sky, the air was sticky, humid, and sizzling. It was only when Caligula came across a bird's nest and cracked one on a stone before he'd lit a fire and it began to sizzle that the people back home perked up with excitement. It was far hotter than any one had thought.

And it was thusly so agreed and acknowledged in the arena and to those still unconvinced about the repercussions of a little heat wave through the area as he and Colin almost fully fell into the river in relief, cupping handful after handful to their lips, seemingly never satisfied.

"Careful, you'll re-open those wounds." Draco snapped as Colin jumped into the stream.

"My, Merlin, it's so hot out." Colin just answered throatily, giving a long moan of pleasure as he drank water, "I don't want anything more than a bucket of ice right now."

Draco, too hot to badger him much more, joined him halfway into the steam, sighing in relief too as the water soaked through his clothes, providing instant gratification, dunking his head under, submersing his whole body in the cooling stream.

When he re-emerged, Colin was glancing upward curiously, "What do you think is the point?"

"Of what? These games?" Draco said, about to reply with something biting and controversial for an answer, but Colin spoke over him.

"No, the heat." He said, "The weather's bloody confusing here as it is, but this summer is unusual as it is. Obnoxiously hot." Colin sunk lower into the water.

"Oh," Draco deflated, shrugging into a more haughty tone, "That's easy."

"How so?" Colin tilted his head.

"Well, deaths." Draco put bluntly, "No cannons yesterday. I'm sure the spectators back home are dying for something by now." He scoffed lightly.

"Yes, but how does this achieve that?" Colin pressed. Draco gave him a pitying look.

"Well, we can see why you're a Gryffindor rather than a Ravenclaw, I suppose." He said, and Colin scowled deeply, "Obviously in heat like this people are going to need water. It will draw everyone together to the only sources around, these rivers."

"And when people get together..." Colin realized, "Ah. But...what if someone doesn't come to a river? Stays away because they've thought of that?" He asked.

Draco thought for a moment. He hoped Hermione would stay away; she should be smart enough to realize this, if he did. But even so, it was risky to hope you'd be okay. "I suppose if they have a full and large canteen or are skilled well enough to do wandless water magic- and the only one I heard of from my father that he saw was Ernie and he's dead now-they'd have to come. If they did not, they wouldn't last long in this heat." Draco said, and as he stood, he already could feel the water evaporating off his skin.

Colin gave a wince, "Good lord, dying by dehydration." He said, as if the thought hadn't crossed his mind.

"It's nasty." Draco agreed, recalling what he'd been told about it while studying, "There are few deaths I hold as awful ways to die, and dehydration is one of them."

There was a silence between the pair of men, before Draco crawled from the water, unhooking his large water pouch and filling it to the brim.

"Come. We don't want to be found here. I think we both have many enemies." He called, and Colin grumbled, wincing as he came onto the bank and Draco saw one of his stitches had come undone, blood running over the hot stones. He rolled his eyes in frustration.