The Green Games (Dramione)

Day 18

"Come on, Hermione. Wake up."

Hermione opened her eyes just a little, enough to see she was still in the snowy arena under her blankets. She felt a bile rise in her throat and pulled herself further under the top of the sleeping bag as the coldness of the air seeped in and mixed with the coldness of her emotions while she registered that Colin too was gone.

"Hermione." Hannah's voice above her was a graveled sigh of aggravation, "Really?"

Hermione pulled herself out a tiny bit from the sleeping bag. "Where's Draco?" She asked with a flat tone.

"He's at the stream, cleaning up. He realized he got cut up a bit even in his dragon form this morning." Hannah said, sitting back on her haunches. Hermione frowned.

They'd returned to the area crying and defeated last night. It had been dark, no one was in the mood to talk, and emotions were strung high so before anyone said something they'd regret they just opted to go to bed. She had seen some scars marring Draco's skin, but he'd been so detached that he'd just curled up on the ground away from Hermione and Hannah- who were sharing one sleeping bag- and Hermione hadn't felt so far from him sine they'd found each other. She took solace in her best friend's arm, and the pair of girls comforted each other in their sorrow.

"We have to plan-," Hannah began to say but Hermione gave a firm shake of her head.

"I'm just...done." Hermione said, devoid of emotion, "I...we...each step forward ends in five shoves back. I'm so tired of loosing people I love. I'm so done, Hannah."

"Well, we can't win if we don't try. Tonight we'll-,"

"Be home? We said that yesterday and then Colin was blown to bits. There's nothing left for his family to burry." Hannah winced at Hermione's sharp words, but didn't disagree, "I can't...I can't do that again."

Hannah was quiet for a second. "So what?" When she spoke, her voice was low and angry, "We just sit and wait for Pansy to kill us one by one?" She demanded, "We sit here like cowards?"

"I don't know, Hannah." Hermione said, disliking the tone her friend was taking with her, "All I know is that we aren't any better than where we started yesterday. We're closer to winning but at what cost?"

"Goddamit, you're Hermione Granger! People are counting on you, people believe in you! They are praying for you win. Not me, you." Hannah said, shoving her friend. Hermione sprung from her sleeping bag, furious.

"I never asked to be famous! I never asked to be this...this symbol." She threw out her hands, "I did what was right and look where that got me? I did what was wrong and I didn't die so what does that say, huh?"

Hannah slung her arm around her chest, which may have been crossed arms if she had her second one, and narrowed her eyes.

"Did you think anyone ever asked Harry if he wanted to be 'The Chosen One?'" She asked quietly.

"And look where that got him. He thought he had to defeat Voldemort so he set out and got himself and our classmates, our friends, killed too." Hermione said, shaking her head, "I'm not blaming him. I'm blaming those that put too much pressure on children." She spat the words out.

Before she could stop herself, Hermione's eyes filled with tears and she collapsed on the forest ground. In the span of two weeks, nineteen children had been murdered. Nineteen souls that should have grown up and gotten married and had children that they would send to Hogwarts just like their own parents had done. And since the invention of that game, that number was now well over 100. A whole handful of empty chairs in classrooms, gravestones with dates that were far too young, and parents that had outlived their offspring. She realized now that even if she won, she wouldn't really, because she wasn't sure how she could carry her survivor's guilt around with her the rest of her life. She saw Fred, in this moment, so much more clearly.