Author's Note: So I randomly came up with the idea of a Harry Potter/Hunger Games crossover a few months back and it just became this huge thing that took me quite some time to put together. Not only am I writing a fanfiction but I also started a Twitter account where I linked it with this story, pretending like I am Hermione stuck in Panem. So if you want to know what's going on in this story before I post it you can check out that account PanemHermione. Links to that account and a blog about it can be found on my author profile!

Hermione threw down her quill and sighed. Now that both Harry and Ron were on the Quidditch team she was spending even more of her time alone in the library. She was almost starting to miss the boys' constant interruptions while she studied.

She glared at her parchment, feeling like her unfinished Potions essay was staring right back at her telling her that no matter how hard she tried Harry would still end up with a higher score. She had half a mind to sneak into the boys' dorm and steal the so-called Half-Blood Prince's book from Harry but she didn't want to start another fight. It was lonely enough when her friends were just busy, how much lonelier would it be if they stopped talking to her all together?

Her mind raced and she knew she wouldn't be able to concentrate until she got it to slow down so she lay her head down for just a second.

Hermione woke up with a start and her hands fisted in the grass.

Wait, grass? What the- she thought as she jumped up, her hand reaching out to pull her wand out of her hair bun. She turned in circles until finally deciding she had no clue where she was and that what she really needed was a spell that would tell her where she was. Or at least the date and time which would give her an idea of what was going on.

Then she remembered her smart phone and she rushed to pull it out of her pocket. "Damn it. How did this happen?" she whispered when it lit up and the date it showed was so far into the future she wouldn't survive to see it even if she lived to be a decade older than Dumbledore. "This has to be a joke, right?" she spun around, looking for a sign of a visiting Weasley twin.

Another stream of curses emerged as she tried to make a call and then send a text in quick succession. Nothing worked until she opened the Twitter account she had downloaded on a whim a few weeks ago and hardly ever used. "Seriously? How in the world will this help me?" she muttered. That's when she heard a noise behind her and she spun around so fast she fell.

She came to as a loud voice shouted out and she scrambled to her feet for the second time that day, her wand clutched tightly in her hand. But then her arm drooped a bit at the sight of the three figures in white plastic suits and one of them took advantage of her hesitancy and lunged for the wand. She didn't even try to stop them, knowing that she wouldn't be casting any spells until she knew where she was and had an idea of how to get back anyways.

"Where am I?" she asked as they searched her pockets. They didn't bother to take the Galleon she'd enchanted for the DA or the smart phone that had landed on the ground near her feet when she'd fallen.

One of the men stepped right up to her and she thought he was looking straight at her but she wasn't sure since the helmet covered his eyes. "State your name and district," he commanded.

Guards, they must be guards of some sort. Am I trespassing? If so, where?

Hermione quickly calculated the risks. She was in an unfamiliar place and the only people she could see (at least she assumed they were human under the space-like armor) hadn't bothered to answer her question. She had two options: stick around and play by their rules and try to figure out where she was and why before she made a move or try and use wandless magic right away and risk messing her situation up even further.

Knowledge won out.

She replayed her words and his voice. American. Definitely American she decided. And she quickly decided to adopt the accent as well, hoping it would help to sound like a native. Merlin only knew what had happened to England if she really was in the future.

"My phone tells me my name is Hermione Granger but I hit my head and I'm just not sure about anything."

Two of the suited figures stepped off to the side while one stayed to guard her. Instead of attempting any conversation she strained to hear what the others were saying.

"- do about her?"

"-must be-three-the phone."

"What are we going to do with her?"

"-her to work-Snow about it after."

They both turned as though they could feel Hermione's eyes on their backs. The closest one to her quickly stepped forward, blocking her view of the others.

"How old are you?" the figure in front of her, apparently a woman according to the voice, barked out.

"I don't remember," Hermione stuttered, her heart pounding as she tried to figure out why her age was the most important thing at the moment. "I hit my head and I'm just not sure."

One of the other guards stomped up next to them. "Then take your best guess. Are you eighteen or younger?"

I'm pretty sure being eighteen means you're legally an adult in America so if I'm in trouble they'll be more lenient if I'm underage, right? "I'm pretty sure I'm not eighteen."

When they chuckled a chill travelled up her spine. And when one of them reached out to grab her arm she struggled not to fight back. "You need to come with us."