Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters and the story is partly stolen from Suzanne Collins.

She lay in the ruins of what had once been Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. The final battle had been the castles final day. The weather was warm and fair. The sun penetrated through the tattered remains of her school robe. She knew that she should move if she wanted to survive. The battle was lost. Voldemort's army was camped out a mere half mile away from her and she could hear the deep boom of victory drums accompanied by the drunken songs of soldiers. Still, she lay there, half empty, not caring- just feeling the jagged edges of the rubble dig into her back. There was something comforting in the thin lines of blood made by shallow cuts. The droplets tickled her skin and reminded her that she was still alive. Emotionally she didn't feel it. All she felt was the dull and hollow thumping of her heart and the rocks beneath her. Hogwarts, the once majestic castle, had easily become so much dust and dirt. She knew that all things break and fade eventually; she had just hoped she wouldn't be the one to live through a change in regime.

She didn't know what happened to Harry or Ron. Neville and a few other dissenters had their skulls strung up like a garland before the castle finally turned to dust. They had been silent observers of the battle, a warning to all who continued the fight. She looked back to see if she could make out any friendly body parts in the mess. She caught a few smudges of blood but wasn't sure if the memory of blood was just permanently etched in her vision or if it was really there. She closed her eyes and a giggle escaped between her teeth. So this was it. This was the glorious end and liberty bought? In death, she supposed her friends would be free. She fell to her side and laughed harder, releasing all the unwanted tension from her muscles. She couldn't stop and that's how the enemy found her, rolling around in the dirt and blood. Laughing. Mud. Blood. Mudblood. She laughed harder as she felt herself being yanked roughly up by her underarms. She limply let the enemy take her. There was nothing left to fight for. The last thing she saw was a pair of disgusted grey eyes glaring down at her. "Good game," she whispered with a smile. Let them have their prize, she thought as she passed into the happier realm of dreams.

8888888888888888888888888888 8888888888888888888888888888 8888888888888888888888

She woke up to the smell of freshly mown grass, old books, and Ron's cologne. She smiled into her pillow and reached out for the warm spot she assumed would be waiting for her, recently vacated by Ron who practiced quidditch in the mornings. Finding the other side of the bed cold she cracked open her eyes and saw green. There was green everywhere. The duvet was a rather expensive looking bit of green fabric; the walls were white with moving green ivy making its way to the floorboards. Her sheets were sea foam that contrasted prettily with the much darker duvet. Her eyes trailed down the floorboards and were led to a small chest of drawers and a walk in closet which seemed to house a full wardrobe of expensive looking wizarding robes. All of them looked appropriate for St. Patty's day.

Hermione blinked the sleep out of her eyes. "Well, isn't this a nice and cozy Slytherin bed and breakfast," she mumbled to herself. She hadn't thought Slytherins did comfort. She always imagined chains and whips as the primary features of their décor. She supposed that was rather silly of her to think.

And then it hit her. Everything that had happened at the final battle. The fact that Ron wasn't at quidditch practice and would possibly never play quidditch again. The fact that Harry was missing and Hogwarts destroyed. And Neville! Sweet Merlin she was going to be ill if she didn't find a way to burn that image from her skull. She closed her eyes. They started to water but she held back the impulse to cry. Tears were for another time. "For a time when there is time. Not now." She thought vaguely.

She would mourn her friends another day when there was time to do it appropriately. Now she had to figure out where she was and why. Why would she be set up in comfort? Surely this wasn't the Slytherin version of prison. Unless they were as perverse as to think the good the bad and vice versa. That was stupid. She shook her head, noticing the smell of shampoo and lack of dirt and blood. No scourgify would have gotten her this fresh.

She dragged herself out of bed, surprised at the lack of pain in her limbs. By all rights she should be sore and unkempt. She shivered in foreboding. This could not be good. Why would they treat her so well?

'Ah, I see the Gryffindor princess has decided to grace me with her presence." A cold voice said behind her.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" she asked as she turned around to face him.

"Just admiring my new show piece. We have resurrected an old game. I doubt you have heard of it, old wizarding tradition that it is. We call it the Hunger Games." He said looking down at his perfectly manicured nails. "I was fortunate enough to acquire you as my piece to play. It would have been awful if I hadn't been able to participate in this exciting experience. I don't know why they ever stopped the games in the first place.

"Maybe because children die in gruesome ways and it's a cruel abuse of power." She said drily.

Ignoring her, Draco continued. "Besides, with the Dark Lord in charge this will look great on my resume. Assuming I actually have to do one of those. I'll probably be a shoe in for the inner circle."

Hermione rolled her eyes but continued the conversation anyway. "Don't worry. If anyone gets on auto pass to evil glory and conniving wickedness I'm sure it's you."

Ignoring her comment again Draco continued with his spiel. "So you've heard of the games and I don't have to go through a lengthy explanation for you."

He looked her up and down lasciviously. "You might want to get dressed before we go down. The boys can get mighty lonesome out on the field, and just because they're out to kill you it doesn't mean they don't want to play first." His eyes flashed and his lips quirked slightly to the right. "Of course, some might like it better after the fact. Avery's like that. The Dark Lord is selling him the bodies for a pretty sum."

Draco, now displaying a full-on grin, stepped forward and let his hand trail down her side. "Come to think of it, I have never tried it with a dead girl. Maybe you can be my first." He waggled his eyebrows. "What do you say, Miss Granger? Is finding your latest pureblood conquest worth dying for? Gryffs are brave, right?"

Hermione could only stare at him wide eyed. For a moment she could feel her mouth droop into an unattractive gape as she tried to digest his words. And then she shoved him. He flew hard and clear across the floor, as she scrambled to make her exit. She was quick to turn the doorknob but he was quicker to grab her wrist and twist. He had her stomach on the floor and his knee digging into her back with a quickness she could hardly fathom.

A gut wrenching pain was building in her stomach. It was a combination of nausea and fear that threatened to rise up and froth from between her tightly clamped teeth. Instead she swallowed it down, and forced her body to relax into his man-handling. She began frantically searching her brain for a possible escape plan. She thought briefly and randomly of the dragon at Gringotts. While highly daring and showy might be fun, survival was probably a better plan. Plus, she seemed to lack a dragon. Unless she counted Draco, and she couldn't very well ride off into the sunset on his back. Logic had apparently abandoned her and she figured she would have to wait for opportunity to come knocking. Physically he was stronger, she lacked a wand, and right now his attention and his body were just a bit too much on her for escape to be likely.

"In case you haven't noticed, Malfoy, I'm not fighting you. You can relax. I realize escape is not going to happen at the moment. So if you would be so kind as to let me up I'll play the good kitty and you can be on your way." She said steadily though her heart was pounding and she could feel sweat trickling down her neck and heat shooting through her back and across her cheeks. She didn't believe that Malfoy was serious about what he had said. He just wanted to scare her. If she was wrong, she'd be dead anyway. His words were disgusting and chilling, but hardly the stuff of nightmares. Besides he needed her to play puppet to his master as long as she could fight in the games.

He pushed more of his weight onto his knee so it stabbed the center of her back painfully as he got up. "I suppose I should say something about lessons and whatnot but I presume you have every possible lecture on defying authority memorized. Just think of me as king, behave accordingly and I will keep you alive until you are publicly butchered or win me lots of galleons." He said as he stood and dusted off his robes with his fingertips. Curling his lips he continued to taunt her like the half childhood enemy/ half psychopath that he had apparently become.

"And for god's sake Granger, use the sleak-eazy. I left it on your dresser for a reason. You will meet the other participants today. Maybe even find a few familiar faces."

She felt the urgent need to cover her body from his eyes even though she was clothed and had to quell the urge to just jump back into bed and cover her head. Instead she simply asked "Why do I smell Ron?"

"The dead Weasel? That's what you smell." He barked out some harsh laughter and twisted his face into a look of disgust.

So Ron was dead. She would never see his smiling face again. She would never feel his soft touches or hear his voice whisper in her ear. She felt her chest sink in and her body suddenly felt heavy. Sleep. That's what this called for. Going to bed and never waking up. Good plans be damned. She didn't care. With that she sunk down into a sitting position with her back against the bed.

"It's an amortentia room." Draco said softly. "Bits of the potion are placed about so that guests feel more comfortable and homey. It's a decorating tradition in the Malfoy family."

"Oh…Malfoy?" she started hesitantly and without glancing back at him.

"Yeah?' he asked without insult but sounding bored.

"Why am I clean?"

"House elves." He replied in the same bored tone. She heard him walking away but did not bother to get up or say anything else. Their points had been made. He came, saw and gloated over his victory and she…well, she hadn't a reason for being here except force so she supposed she didn't really have a point to make besides "this is shite" and that would get redundant very quickly.

The knob twisted and his feet rustled the carpet as he turned back to look at her slumped beside the bed. "There's no reason to get judgmental, Granger. Everyone goes monster sometime. With any luck you can avoid breaking your poor Gryffindor spirit and shuffle off after a few minutes of the tournament." With that he turned on his heel, walked out the door and slammed it behind him.

Not bothering to stand, but scooting herself to the corner of the room, Hermione let sleep envelop her as she set her nose close to the amortentia and the smell of her childhood friend and teen love, Ronald Weasley. "How bright the stars shine in this new world," she mumbled. And in a strange moment consisting of sheer exhaustion and desperation she leaned in and kissed the wall that smelled so much like her boyfriend-pretending that wherever he was the kiss would reach him. The second her lips touched the wall she realized her error but there was no mistaking the sugar-sweet taste of amortentia.