AHAHAHAHAH it's been too long. Basically, what took so long (among just needing to take a break from this, otherwise everything I posted woulda been shit) the plans for the rest of this story are just like one big lump of things so I wasn't sure how to break it up. I at first wanted to write ALL of it and then see how long it was, but in the end, I'm basically just going by every 20 pages, I post a chapter. So, if the ends of these last few chapters don't feel final, that's sorta why, it's more like a continuation from event to event.

Thanks to all my reviewers: Toni, Guest, Jamie, Herdcat, whenthesnowmelts, Red656, Hopeful Star, Kasumi96,Visiteur (Thank you for all your reviews!), and Guest.

Toni: Nope! We have at least three, if not more, chapters of finalizing things and getting loose ends all tied in a bow ;)

Guest: Yes, and I could point out that if he's ever read Paradise Lost, Dante's Inferno, or the Aenid, he's read fanfiction too, but I still don't think he'd find this any more of a 'real' way to write. Ah well, I don't care much about what he says.

Jamie: Ain't that the best feeling? To get two updates in one? And yea, I already miss Colin...And hey, out of spite is a great motivation! And I aim to always keep y'all on your toes ;)

Hopeful Star: Well, we both know whenever Voldy shows up, it's nothing good...

Visiteur: It's always nice to see a continuation of reviews on chapters, even if I've written much farther! I will answer all of them with any questions you might had/or comments I have in reply. For the first comment, yeah, my grammar and how to write things more legibly have improved DRASTICALLY. When I actually wrote this first chapter, it was back in 2011 and I was a sophomore in HS. Now it's 2017 and I'm in college, so yes, you can imagine I picked up some things along the way. Most of your other comments, they answered themselves with the new chapters. I just have to say that I really did love going back and reading them all in a row like that, hehe, being like 'yep, that's where this person is...they have no idea what's coming' and such. My one agreement is I do wish I would have added in what happened to the golden Trio much earlier, but in my original plans, I didn't really know what happened. I might one day go back in and put at least hints in the first few chapters...And Ron and Luna was convenient. I don't love nor hate them as a couple outside of this. I do know it's fairly popular in some circles tho! And yes, in that scene I totally wanted you all to think it was Colin...I'm assuming you're also the Guest too on chap 28? I guess for that point, I chose to do that because once you're in a game where you have to kill each other by force, all that pettiness in a lot of way seems so stupid and you're no longer each other's enemies as much as Lord Voldy is. They're old ways still come out in heated moments, but overall, it's just not the same bite to use last names anymore.

"Lord Voldemort," Hermione said softly in shock, quickly dipping her whole body the best she could to bow before him, not wanting particularly to get hexed to death after winning.

She wished she didn't have to bow. If Hermione had her way, she would spit at his feet. She would refuse to bend her body in such a way towards him. She would do every terrible thing that these Games made her do to others. She would kill him and make him suffer.

But at the moment, Hermione was in no condition to battle a pygmy puff, much less Lord Voldemort. So, despite every bone in her body screaming in protest, trying to pull her into a stanch and rigid position, she bowed.

"Hermione, how does it feel to be a winner?"

Hermione lifted her head to see he recognized her act of submission, a cold victory glinting in his eyes. But from his smirk and his stare, Hermione knew that his question was pointless. There were no winners in the games, unless you were him. Everyone else was just touching upon it for a second.

"I'm glad to be alive." It wasn't an answer to his question, per sey, but it seemed to satiate him for the time being, for he nodded and didn't press further. She was pretty sure he knew that she knew that this balance between them was precarious, as it was with all winners. She was astute enough to want to keep herself living past all this, preferably to an age where she didn't have to live under his terror. She would bide her time.

He seemed to hover, almost unsure what to say. She knew that wasn't quite it though, since there was no reason to mince his words around someone he had so much more over. So, she bit.

"Are you merely here to offer your congratulations?" She asked, moving her hands to her lap. As her left hand glided underneath the bed sheets, it rolled over something long and stick-like. She tried not to make a noticeable startle as she found it, and hoped she looked just as she had a moment before as she slowly drug the item to her lap, using the layers of the itchy blankets to hide it's shape.

Her fingers slid over it. It was knobby and made from wood. It almost felt like…a wand. But it wasn't her wand, she knew so much. She would have recognized her own from the start. She knew in the back of her mind there was something achingly familiar about it, although she couldn't put her finger on it. She would have to wait until he left to investigate with her eyes. She had a feeling, a voice in the back of her head, telling her to not let him see whatever this was.

"I want to know," He finally said, crossing his legs and leaning in, "How you cheated death?"

"How I cheated death?" Hermione frowned. She took her right hand and it unconsciously traced the scar that peeked over her hospital gown, "I honestly thought that moment was the end there. I don't know how I didn't die. I think I should have." She said, looking down. Her whole chest was covered in the beginning stages of bruises and the scar from Pike's damage was still tender and irritated around the edges. She had lost so much blood.

"Not that," He snapped angrily, "I fixed you now." He said and as she examined his hands, she could see underneath his fingernails the traces of blood, "Couldn't have our fan favorite perishing right after she won, after all." His voice was heavy with taunting. He didn't save her because he was a good person; he saved her because it was more prosperous for him for Hermione Granger to stay alive.

"Oh, thank you." The words felt strange coming from her lips, thanking this sort of person. Yet if it weren't for him, she wouldn't be here. She was raised right by her mama, no matter the circumstances.

He hardly acknowledged her thanks, instead looked her up and down with a cool fury. "No, I want to know how you survived when Pansy stabbed you. This time, I got to you before your heart stopped. Keeping you alive was hard, sure, but you weren't gone. In that arena, no one saw but you and I both know you were dead for exactly thirty-eight seconds." He said, and hearing it out loud made Hermione freeze up, "I want to know how."

"I…" Hermione frowned. Pansy stabbing her and twisting the knife, falling down the ravine, crushing her hand…it felt like years ago that all happened. Voldmort continued on, irate.

"How did you, a filthy mudblood who I admit has a talent naturally, but by no means should have been strong enough to overcome death? Tell me how you did it!" He came dangerous close and beneath his nearly calm face, Hermione saw within his red eyes a thousand storms bashing itself against a stone. She recalled hearing about his obsession with overcoming death. She'd done the one thing he hadn't been able to do, would never be able to do.

"I don't remember." She found her courage and leveled her chin to his, "I'm sorry, but I just remember it all being black…I remember the pain…I remember waking up, I don't know how. Ask Draco, maybe." She said.

"No, Draco is a talented healer- such a wasteful use of his skill- but even he could not bring someone back when they're already gone. It was something you did."

She knew what was coming before he did it, so she had time to prepare. She felt him probing her mind for answers, harshly and unkindly, breaking through walls in her mind and dragging his nails through her memories. She shoved Seamus dying in front of her to him; she threw the feeling of Pansy's knife slipping between her bones like butter, the agony as she ended up at the bottom of that cliff. She showed him her hazy memories as Colin and Draco carried her back and as they fixed her, and waking up afterwards. The one thing she did not show him, under any circumstances, was seeing Harry and Seamus in the other side. She swallowed those and relieved every awful moment of that night, and would a thousand times over, if it meant keeping this from him.

Finally, he came out of her mind. She slumped forward on the bed, exhausted and her mind was pounding. He sneered at her, but didn't look as though he expected she was hiding something within the shadows of her memory.

"Si-Lord?" She said quietly, fear clutching her, "Is Draco alive? Did we all win? Or did Pansy…" She swallowed thickly. Maybe the reason that he couldn't ask Draco was because Draco was dead, "I thought for sure Pansy would win…" She trailed off herself, unable now to imagine a possibility she didn't.

"Do you wish Pansy to win?" Lord Voldmort asked, something nearly akin to amusement on his face.

"No!" Hermione was quick to shake her head, "That would be awful." Her fingers clenched the sheets of the bed, "But she's so-,"

"Well," He broke in with a grin that made her body shiver, like she was staring directly into the face of a wolf, "Let's just say Pansy was…taken care of." He said with a deep chuckle, one Hermione felt she should be happy about but was mostly just left…terrified.

"Oh," She said in a small voice.

"We're nearly home. You'll need to be more presentable because Rita will be having her after comments. The shower's to the left, and someone will bring you food." He said. Hermione's fingers brushed the object under the sheet and she recalled Dumbledore's pat in her dream-walk.

"Did you take my suit? The one I wore in the games?" Hermione asked, looking around the room. Voldemort paused at the door, confused.

"Why would you want that ratty thing?"

"It's hard to explain," Hermione tried not to sound too eager to get it back, for he would know something was up, "But I lived in it for, Merlin, I don't even know how long this game has been. I hate it, a little, but it's…well, I guess I'm not ready to give it up forever entirely. I think maybe once I'm holding it and I'm dressed…this will be real. That I'm alive will be real." She said. She was shocked to realize that the end was a truthful statement. It didn't feel real now, because she felt as though it could be hidden under her hospital gown and they'd throw her out of the helicopter right back into the games.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes.

"Very well. We will bring up your dirt and blood incrusted suit." From the scrunching of his nose, it was clear he disapproved of her asking, "All for the Victor, of course…" He said mockingly. When Hermione just stared at him, unable to process how to respond to his jab, he left the room in a huff. The door slammed behind him. She sighed in a small relief. She was safe, for now.

She uncovered her lap and her breath caught in her throat. Sitting in her fingers was Dumbledore's wand; the one that she'd unarmed from him in her dream. It was impossible, wasn't it? But then her eyes slid over to the shamrock necklace sitting next to her on the table, and she recalled sometimes things weren't as they seemed.

She didn't understand the overwhelming significance of having this, but Dumbledore worked in mysterious ways and if he wanted her to have it- and went about it so covertly- it had to be important. She clutched it to her as she stood up, wincing in pain from everything, and made her way to the door that was the bathroom.

She opened the door and was faced with a mirror, sink, toilet, and small shower. Yet, this was one of the most welcoming sights she'd ever seen.

She went to the bathroom mirror to splash some warm water on her face, but stumbled back at her reflection. It almost took her a moment to realize the person in the mirror was her.

She knew the games had to take their toll, but other than quick glances in ponds and puddles she hardly got to see herself at all. The face that looked back at her shocked her entirely.

It wasn't even her outward appearance, although this was strange to see. Her cheeks had sunken in and the bones of her face jutted outward. Her eyes had dark bags underneath them and her entire body was covered in little cuts from the explosion. Her hospital gown hung off her body in an unnatural way, because she'd lost so much weight during the games, reducing her skin to be stretched tautly over her bones. She looked like a walking ghost.

Even as she lifted her hands to touch her face, the skin that looked so sallow and uncared for, she could see the burns underneath her fingers, ever lingering. She placed both of her palms face up on the porcelain's sink's edge, frowning at the marred skin.

She looked so awful, she realized. The worst, though, was that when she looked into the mirror and stared back at her own disjointed reflection, her eyes looked so dark. She'd won, yes. She was alive, yes. But there was still that light missing, such a light that she didn't think could ever be quenched. It was just…gone.

Tears filled her eyes and she looked down and away from herself in a sharp movement. She wiped the tears away on the back of her palm, shaking her head. It was hard to imagine a life after right now, she told herself. But it would get better. It had to, it just absolutely had to. She couldn't live with anything else.

When she looked back up, her eyes were hopeful, but dubious. It was enough.

She stepped back so she could shimmy out of her hospital gown completely, get the full view of her scarred body in the mirror. She put the wand on the sink's edge and let the cloth puddle around her feet.

It was equally as shocking. She could count each of her ribs, finger them over like piano keys, and trace the way her body sucked inward. Her legs were lean from constant exercise, perhaps the only good thing to come of this. She followed all her wounds along herself. First, ghosting over the wound that should have killed her, like a zipper starting up at the base of her collarbone and going down almost to her waist. She lightly skimmed all the bruises that polka dotted her body. She felt around the knife scar Pansy gave her. She relished in the fact that despite all these, that her body would never look the same, she was somehow still alive. It was, in all, unimaginable.

She stepped into the shower, letting it fog up and the slightly-too hot water scald her skin. She could turn it down, but she wanted to feel the pitter-patter of little pinpricks of hot water on her shoulders and then run rivets down her back.

She ran her fingers through her hair, flicking out a couple leaves or twigs tangled in nearly impossible knots. She used three rounds of conditioner to free the debris from her hair before she even got to the conditioner.

She watched the dried blood sludge from her body. She almost recalled someone patting her off with a slightly damp sponge, but this was the first time she'd properly showered since before she went in. The last time she was completely wet was when she'd fallen into the underground river, but that had left her with gritty mud in places she didn't think it was possible to get to.

The drain and the area around it was stained a good color of rust. She felt as though she was shedding this impenetrable skin, one she'd built up meticulously throughout the competition, hardening with each person she lost. She knew some of that blood was Elizabeth's, from when she'd held her. Some of it was Ron's. Some of it was Colin's. Some of it was Tracey's. Some of it was Corner's, Blaise's, Justin's. Hell, some of it might even be Hannah's from way back when the camp was first attacked. She hadn't even truly thought about that until now, but she wouldn't have been surprised if she had specks of blood on her, still remaining, from every single contestant in the whole bloody game.

It took four times as long as she would have stayed in any shower regularly to clean herself off completely, while also minding her fresh wound. She stayed in that shower until the water ran off her clear, no easy task. She would think she was fine, then she'd turn and the water would run off her another way, still a dirty brown shade. She went through two whole bars of soap, scrubbing herself furiously. By the time she stepped out onto a nice bathmat and grabbed the softest and fluffiest towel, her skin was red and raw but felt so beautifully clean. It was a concept she had almost lost the meaning of.

She tied a towel around her waist, and stepped out of the bathroom, ringing out her hair with a second smaller towel she found. Next to her bed were a couple things, clearly having been brought in since she'd showered so long. Her fingers were prune-like and she relished the feeling.

Her wand was there, first and foremost. She touched it quietly, but didn't pick it up. It seemed so useless now, since she was getting so good at wandless magic. She wondered why Dumbledore even bothered carrying one around, since he was so proficient at it. She looked at his wand in her hand and frowned; there had to be more to this, she just didn't know it yet. Dumbledore wasn't stupid and he wouldn't carry something around if he didn't need it. She set his wand next to her own.

Food had also been brought it, much better food than she'd gotten at the safe hours, if that were possible. And it was a feast; grilled chicken wrap, bowl of rice, smoothie, milk, water, apples, peanut butter and nutella…it looked so heavenly. But she decided to take care of her hunger after, because what piqued her interest most was her old uniform folded with some clothes to put on now.

She picked it up. It stank, it was bloodstain, torn, and in generally a bad shape. She understood why their first reaction was to throw it out. She tilted her head, looking at it. Nothing special, on first glance.

She held it up to her figure and then took her hand and rolled it over the fabric around the area her heart was. There was a bump. Maybe she'd felt it before and hadn't thought much about it. It was almost easy to miss, one could chalk it up to a zipper somewhere or a bunch in the fabric. Yet when she reached her hand down into the fabric, across the back, she realized it was a solid lump, no bigger than a pebble.

Turning the suit inside out, she noticed a small and impeccably hidden pocket…right above where her heart would lay. It was sewed in after, a little doubled square of fabric to hold…something. Something that had obviously been in there since the beginning and she had failed to notice.

Using her teeth, she ripped through the miniscule needle works, until she had ripped a hole in the top. She stuck two fingers into it and fished out…a stone.

It was one of the most peculiar things she'd come across. Smokey gray in color, nearly the color of London on a particularly smoggy day, and small enough to loose if one weren't careful with it. It had cut sides, smooth and angular, but was broken down the middle. Cracked, seemingly purposely so. Not enough to shatter the tiny stone itself but enough to distort an imagine scratched upon the surface…she hadn't seen it before. It looked like a triangle with a circle inside of it and the rest of the image was lost to the crevice.

It seemed much heavier than she would have expected, and as she closed her fist around it, she murmured her question out loud, "What are you, little stone?"

"Can't you guess?"

Hermione nearly jumped from her skin. She gripped the stone like the intruder was here to steal it, and tugged her towel more snugly over her naked form. She turned, highly irritated, scowling.

"For Merlin's sakes, Fred, I'm happy to see you but could you just knock-,"

She didn't quite finish her berating.

She looked at the figure in front of her, and then back to the area she'd woken up. Perhaps she'd been drugged, although there were no traces of that, but she wasn't positive on anything right now. Or she was asleep. Or she'd been dead this whole time and this was one of those strange sorts of procedural stuff.

She almost could have mistaken the person in front of her for Fred, if she didn't look too closely. But this Fred was younger by a couple years, missing the slight stubble she'd come to expect on his chin. He was leaner, looked like he was hungry. But most telling, his ear was missing…and Hermione Granger recalled vividly watching George's ear hewn off right before he died in the first Games. So, it had to be him. Or, Fred was playing a truly cruel prank.

"George?" She asked tentatively. He gave a small bow. She licked her lips uneasily, bouncing on the heels of her feet.

"Has anyone ever told you that you sound exactly like Fred?" She joked in a small voice. She wasn't sure how to deal with this. What should she say to him? Luckily, George recognized her feeble attempt to diffuse this situation with humor.

"Ah, no, in fact. You're the first one…" He tilted his head toward her, a smile in jest upon his lips.

Hermione sat on the hospital bed. "I have to admit, George, I'm terribly confused. Am I dead? Am I hallucinating? What's…what's going on?" She recalled Harry coming to her during the games, outside of seeing him while she was dying, but that could have been a whole number of things.

"No, you're fine. Hermione Granger, smartest witch of her age, and you haven't figured it out yet?" He asked, and Hermione just stared at him with wide, unsure eyes. He sighed, pointing to where her fist was clenched tightly, "The stone."

"The stone…is doing this?" She asked faintly.

"The call it the Resurrection stone, ya know? It's ancient. Older than Hogwarts. Older than magic, some say. Created by death." George said and Hermione swallowed thickly. This explained…well, quite a lot.

"Are you real, then?"

"I don't quite feel like getting into the metaphysics of it all," George dismissed her question with a wave of her hand, "But, well, yeah. I mean, it's me. All my memories and everything." He tapped his head.

"Can I choose who I bring?" Hermione asked rolling the stone between her fingers. She wished she could see Seamus.

"I don't get a rule book on it. I don't think anyone does, in fact…" George said after a moment, but then continued, "But would you really want to?"

His question confused Hermione for a moment, because if she could see people who had died from this stone…there were so many people she wanted to see. Of course she did, what a stupid question.

But then…if she relied on this too much, she would be caught within the past, always chasing a ghost of someone. And if she found a way to Seamus, she'd always tell herself just one more moment with him, just another time, and then she'd be done. She had a dark feeling that this little stone had caused much sadness and was an addiction to those in the past, and if she weren't careful, it would be like that with her too. It would be all to easy to fall within its veil of comfort.

"No, I guess not." She agreed. If she had known during the games, things might have gone differently, she figured. And in a bad way. She would be calling upon the ghosts as soon as people died, trying desperately to keep their heart with her. Perhaps it was a relief that it had been so well hidden…but why?

"So do I toss it, then? I don't know if anyone should have this…" She said quietly, studying it.

"No!" George's harsh reaction startled her, and she looked up, "No, I mean, there's a reason you have it. It was…His…that was the Marvolo Gaunt Ring and it was a horcrux, but it's much more than that…"

"George," Hermione gave a small whine, rubbing her head.

"I know you don't understand any of this now, it's just a lot of words, but you will. I don't know who else will tell you and I don't know how long this connection lasts, honestly. Just…keep it. Don't use it, but keep it. Can ya do that?"

"Of course," Hermione agreed. When ghosts from the other side came telling you to do something, you didn't just take it as a mere suggestion.

"And…can you tell Freddie I miss him? Miss him like hell?" George asked.

"I'll tell him anything you want me too." She said, nodding in resolution.

"Good, good. Also, tell him that Charlie, Percy, and Ron…they're all good. We're together, we're okay now." At Ron's name, Hermione's heart twisted and it felt like it had thrown itself against her ribcage. She suppressed a sob. Sometimes it didn't hit her that he was gone. Sometimes, it didn't even seem real that Harry was gone either. She would always mourn them, always expect them by her side, she knew this.

"I will."

"And every time he thinks of me, I know he's doing it, and I'm thinking of him too…" George was beginning to fade, "We're all so proud of you, Hermione…" His words echoed around the room, and once again she was alone.

She set the stone down, despite the clawing desperation to pick it up again, connect with another long lost friend.

She found a strip of fabric and wrapped it tightly around the stone until it was just a soft lump in her hand. She would not be tempted. But, she didn't trust it anywhere else but with her.

She set the stone next to her, and viewed the clothes that had been laid out. Comfortable things, thankfully. She didn't know how long they had until they would land, and then she'd be shoved into a very uncomfortable dress and she was not looking forward to that. So, she wasted no time slipping into a pair of soft pants and a sweatshirt, shoving the stone and the wand into her beaded bag, which had been brought up as well. There was a odd sort of humming, something utterly magical, when she placed those two items into her bag. It felt as though something was coming together again. Of what, she did not know.

She didn't let that bag leave her clutched hands.

She crawled back into bed, feeling woozy. She had pretty much died this time too and the idea that she could sleep peacefully now was almost too much. It scared her.

Yet she fell asleep, as her body took her over and did what it needed to do. It only felt like a few seconds later when she was jerked awake.

A nurse was waiting for her in her room when she blinked her eyes open, looking relieved.

"It's good you slept, ma'am. Your body desperately needs it. Sometimes contestants have trouble." She said.

"I'm not sure it will last," Hermione said uncertainly. She felt around in the bed and found the beaded bag, sighing in relief. IF the nurse noticed her strange behavior, she did not comment. Or, perhaps she'd been around too many victors to judge any motion they did.

"We've reached the city, please, come with me." The mediwitch offered her hand. Hermione, still shaky, took it. She limped out the door and blinked into the light. They were in a back alley of somewhere, but she could hear the screams of fans in front of them. It was always a party when there were victors, parties she'd reluctantly taken part in. She could only imagine the party for the victors would be even more ostentatious.

As she turned the corner, the first thing she was Draco pacing frantically.

"Relax! The big one said she was fine-," Hannah sighed, annoyed. She saw Hermione out of the corner of her eye first and her face split into a big grin. They both looked like they'd showered too. Hannah's remaining limbs were all wrapped in gauzy bandages and Draco had little stickers holding cuts all over his face together. Draco's head whipped around to follow Hannah's smile and he let out the biggest sigh of relief she thought a person could have.

She limped a little faster. He met her halfway and enveloped her in the most bone-crushing hug she'd ever had, so passionate he lifted her off the ground for a second.

"Ow…" She winced. Her body was sore, well, everywhere. Draco put her back down immediately, eyes searching hers. Next, it traveled down to her chest where he could see the edge of the scar poking up from her collar. She could see his own scar from his heart wrapping around his neck too.

"We match," She said weakly. He chuckled, shaking his head, and pressed his forehead to hers.

"Don't do that."

"What? Make jokes?" She asked lightly, winding her hands in his.

"No, die." He whispered, "I was sure I'd lost you once again."

"I never once thought you'd died." Hannah said from behind them. Hermione could only laugh, shaking her head at her best friend.

"Draco," She said, reaching up to caress his check, "You know I've survived worst that that."

"I know, I know but…when they took you away, Merlin, you left blood everywhere."

As Hermione was about to answer back, a high-pitched voice carried down the hall that made Hermione's face sour immediately.

"Victors! Come one now," Umbridge said, clacking back into back halls. She eyed the winners, Draco with slight apprehension and for a moment when she looked at Hannah and Hermione, all Hermione saw was disgust, "Well, congratulations." She said, but her voice was tight and Hermione wasn't sure she meant it at all, "We have much to do before your reveal. You all look like you were just in a war! We need to get those faces cleaned up right away," She said, grabbing one of Hannah's cheek sand pinching.

"We were," Hannah replied dryly, but Umbridge hardly seemed to listen.

"Shoo, this way." She said with her hand motion, shoving them down the hall, "Granger, here. Abbott, there. Malfoy, come with me." She said promptly, pointing at doors. Draco's eyes widened at the thought of leaving Hermione, and his grip on her hand tightened. Hermione felt her heart beat a little fast too, the thought of being sent somewhere alone. Even Hannah stiffened.

Umbridge turned, scrunching her nose, "Oh, Salazar Slytherin! You're victors now, no one is going to hurt you. Please, let's hurry." She said, no sympathy in her tone. Reluctantly, Hermione detached her hand from Draco's.

"We'll be fine," She murmured, "We'll be back together on that stage soon enough." She hissed. Draco finally nodded; following Umbridge but took four or five glances behind him.

"Well, here I go," Hannah said, her voice raising a pitch with nervousness as she turned the door handle. Hermione did the same.

"Welcome!"

A group of people who she was sure had been nasty and condescending to her nearly three weeks ago were now grinning at her like she was the Minister of Magic. Two descended upon her immediately, settling her into the chair to wash her hair with magical softening gels. Someone began massaging her feet, another her shoulders. She jumped at their touch.

"Miss Granger, just relax…" The head stylist said, "We're here to wait on you now. Do you not want a massage?" She asked, frowning.

"No, I ah…just didn't expect it." Hermione said awkwardly, not denying their hands felt heavenly. The stylist nodded back to them and Hermione tried not to make more sudden movements.

Two washed through her hair, meticulously combing it and she was sure that they were still finding braches or leaves. Hermione knew she couldn't have gotten them all the first time. Someone went to work on her nails, filing them down and painting a glossy topcoat over them. The main stylist went to work on her face, first massaging her completely and laying little slices of cucumber on her eyes, something Hermione thought only existed in muggle movies.

"Dear, we have much to work with," The stylist said more to herself than Hermione, "But who can blame you? You've been underfed for weeks. We'll do what we can though." Gone were the demeaning comments that had been present before. Now, perhaps after watching it all, the woman…understood. She only seemed soft and perceptive of Hermione's current mental state.

And honestly, even Hermione herself doubted the ability to make it look like she wasn't half-dead.

"Will you hide my scars?" Hermione asked, a timid voice.

"Do you want them hidden? There are certainly glamour spells…" The lady trailed off as Hermione's face puckered. She was remembering Elizabeth.

"I don't…" Hermione began uncertainty.

"I would keep them. It's not a sign of disfiguration, but of strength," the woman said, perhaps the kindest thing she would say to Hermione. Hermione only needed her confirmation and she relaxed.

"Yes, they are a part of me now." She agreed.

Hermione didn't say anything else the entire time. She just closed her eyes and let them work. She didn't have anything else to say to them.

When she opened her eyes again, she didn't see the same person in the mirror. That person in the mirror was too scarily close to the person that stared back at her before the games and she didn't like that. But her scars were still showing, so, it wasn't the same person.

"I believe that means it's my time now," A voice floated from the doorway. Hermione swiveled in her chair to see Madam Malkin standing in the door. The people who had fixed Hermione's face into a presentable façade bowed and left the two of them. Madam was carting in a metal rack that had two zippered bags hanging from it.

"Two?" Hermione asked, her voice rough.

Madam unzippered the first and Hermione saw…the dress she'd worn the first time around.

"That's…it's…" A quiet but strangled question left her lips.

"I told you then you got the choice to keep it. Do you still want it now?" Her question wasn't mocking, not unkind, but gentle. Hermione felt her throat rebel at the thought of wearing that again. It stared back at her, it taunted her.

"No, no, not at all." Hermione said numbly, shaking her head. Madam gave her a quaint smile and re-zipped the bag.

"So far, none have." She said sagely, and Hermione remembered being so shocked that someone could possible say no to such a beauty. The color, that brilliant red, it reminded her of her own hands and everyone and nothing at the same time.

"So, this is what I figured you'd wear out there." Madam unzipped the second bag to show Hermione a gold and white gown, just as stunning as the first, "Red wasn't…"

"Yes." Hermione's voice was strained, "You get it."

There was a momentary silence before Hermione frowned, looking up, "You…you put the stone in my outfit." She said, "Why?"

"Dear, there are some things that can't be answered…" Madam gave a meaningful nod around the room and it was in that moment Hermione was aware that even if the whole world did not see this part of her now, someone always would still. But, she saw Malkin push up her dress robes, just a bit, just enough for that tattoo to peek out again…it soothed Hermione. She had begun to wonder if she'd just dreamt it.

"What should I do with it?" She asked.

"Protect it. But, be aware of it." She said with a pointed look.

"It's a little late." Hermione said with a breathless wheeze, "I've already seen too much with it. It's poison." She was shocked at her own words.

"But powerful," Malkin added, "It's not something…Hermione, you are perhaps the safest with it now."

Hermione scowled, not liking that answer, but accepted it. Malkin helped her zip into the dress, and it was a perfect fit… despite the fact Hermione was sure she was at least a size smaller than the last time she'd seen her, her breasts in particular were feeling a little smaller than usual. She almost asked but, ah, magic.

Outside, Hannah was dressed in a tea-length white and yellow dress. She had a shawl wrapped around her arm that wasn't there, nearly obscuring the fact she was disabled now.

"It's stupid, is what it is." Hannah said as soon as Hermione's eyes fell on it, "Frankly, I want to throw it at the audience, you know? Shove my nub in the cameras. Show 'em all." She said, "But Umbridge already told me that would be 'very unwise'." She mocked in a high-pitched tone.

"Sorry, Hannah," Hermione whispered.

"Whatever, you know, whatever." Hannah replied back, scowling.

The door next to them opened and out stepped Draco, wearing a white and silver suit, his hair perfectly combed and his face shaved and beautiful. He looked so put-together. He looked…like the boy standing on the stage with his father before his name was picked. And his eyes now seemed to hold coldness, one Hermione was altogether unfamiliar with. It was enough to make her wonder if this was the same person she'd started to fall in love with, until his gaze switched to hers and his eyes just melted and a smile spread on his face. Suddenly, he wasn't that old Draco at all. It seemed silly, all things considering.

"Gorgeous," He said, taking her hand and motioning for her to spin around. Hermione felt a rare giggle escape her lips as she did and for a second, she wasn't standing her after winning a competition based in killing. She was at a better Yule Ball. She was at a party. She was at a wedd-,

"Ladies and Gentleman!"

"I'm pretty sure I'm a pacifist after all this, but her voice makes me want to re-think that," Hannah muttered from the bench as Umbridge rounded the corner.

"Ah, well don't you all look just…so lovely." She breathed a sigh of long relief, "Follow me, everyone is so excited to see your big entrance! Now, when you go on, there will be a recap of the games. We used to show reactions of the victors but a couple yeas ago they did away with that, so, well for some of you it might be a relief. Then there will be some questions, simple things, you know. Just answer them and of course, for Merlin's sake, smile! You three a victors now. You're legendary." She said, pushing them toward the entrance to the stage.

Hermione could see Rita warming up the crowd. Hermione's stomach flipped.

"Hey, you okay?" Draco asked, his breath on her neck.

"I don't think I can watch everyone die again," Hermione said honestly. Draco's brow furrowed.

"Then don't. Don't do that to yourself, okay?" He said.

"And now…our victors!" Rita said, waving a wide hand to the backstage and the stage was bathed in light and the crowd's cheering was like thunder.

Everything on the stage was white; the chairs, Rita's outfit, and the lights…it was clean, it was innocence, it was…not them, not what they'd been through. It was like they were being interviewed for a whole other game. There were a line of five chairs, all filled with the previous victors and then three big comfortable looking ones still in the chain but away. They were part of something so much bigger now.

As Hermione came onto the stage, she looked out at the people but couldn't see a single familiar face. So, her gaze swiveled toward the people in the victor's chairs. She could have sworn Fred gave a sigh of relaxation when she stepped out on stage. She saw the way Cedric fidgeted and his whole face just exploded in relief when he saw Hannah. Beside Hermione, Hannah started to shake, her whole face blushed. Hermione wished they could have gotten a moment alone together before this.

Hermione sat in the middle chair, Draco on her left, Hannah on her right.

"Can we get another round of applause for Draco, Hermione, and Hannah? And don't they look just lovely?" Rita asked and the whole crowd broke out in cheers and wolf-whistles. Draco nodded, smiling and waving and Hermione felt so unprepared for this moment. Even Hannah was grinning a forced smile but it looked natural from down there, probably.

"Ah, well, before we get all the juicy details from these stars, let's take a look back at the mountains they had to climb to get here," Rita said. Mountains to climb…killing people, funny way to put it, Hermione thought.

The stage darkened and the screens that had been showing the three of them suddenly switched to a dramatic music montage of the game's highlights, which mostly consisted of deaths. Hermione watched the first few- she watched Wayne and recalled how that was almost she. She watched the sword go through Ernie's chest. She saw Susan roll away from the spiders.

But long before it got to Seamus, it was far too much. And, there was a lot of clips of Seamus or others talking about him finding her. She knew what was going on, she knew that even though she had won they were still trying to play her life into a sick game- a love triangle between her and Draco and a dead boy. All they had was circumstance, though; they didn't know a damn thing about them.

She'd never be able to escape Seamus' death. It was recorded and it would be in her face at every moment, every second. She killed him just as much as Pansy did. She couldn't just burn one copy of it because it existed everywhere now.

Hermione was glad the stage was dark so that no one saw her furtively wipe away tears.

The whole video was about half an hour long. How could they sum up some people's entire last bits of their lives in just half an hour? Elizabeth hardly got any time but when Hermione thought about her bleeding out she felt like she too couldn't breathe. It wasn't fair.

How was she going to be able to get through this interview? Fred had looked so casual afterwards. How did he do that? Why could he do that?

She caught a glimpse of a death, one she had no part of- Justin's, saw the slice across his neck and she felt so sick suddenly. Ill. Her hand rose to her mouth, shaky, as she tried to hold back barfing all over the stage in front of her. It had all seemed so shimmery in the games; the blood, the deaths, everything. And she was running on basically fumes and adrenaline the entire time so of course nothing felt real. But here, out of the games, in reality? How could she have watched people die? How could she have killed people? How could she have seemed like such a stronger person?

Hannah's hand passed a glass to her; ginger ale. For upset stomachs. They must know, they all have to know how these deaths are for them.

Hermione glanced up at the victors before her. Viktor's face was unreadable and Marcus looked stoked and excited at what was playing before him. Fred, Cedric, and Oliver looked properly disinterested, but she could tell it was just a well-practiced face. She knew Fred well enough to know he was in agony. He had to watch Ron die all over again too, after all.

After it was over, after that last battle and the last thing the crowds saw back home was Hermione pale and bleeding out and being carried away right after their names were called, the screen went black.

There was a moment that felt like an eternity. One where Hermione recalled the piercing gaze of Voldemort and managed to take three deep gasping breaths and one longer swig of the drink before the lights came back up and they were all smiling like idiots.

"I say this every year but, damn, what a show!" Rita announced, "You all just know how to make each year special, I suppose." She giggled, "Hannah! Let's start with you. Did you think you'd ever make it out after you lost your arm?" She asked.

"Oh, well, no one ever really thinks they're going to make it out. If they do, they're liars. I guess I just accepted anything that was coming next. Maybe that's what kept me alive," Hannah gave a casual shrug but Hermione knew that this was far from a casual answer, "I felt like everyday after was borrowed time."

"Do you think it's going to be difficult now, out of the games?"

"Well, I think once you win the Games…" Hannah clicked her tongue, "Everything else's a piece of cake. Plus, it's not like people have to walk around one-armed anymore. We do live in the 20th century." She laughed.

"You are the second Hufflepuff ever to win. I mean, no offence, but I think we all can agree that they are always the underdogs."

Hannah's face flashed for a second before she gave a chocked laugh, "Is there a question in that?"

"Well, what are your thoughts about being a Hufflepuff who wins?"

"I dunno, really. I mean, I don't know if it comes down to houses. A Ravenclaw's never won and that's…I think it just comes down to particular people." Hannah shifted uncomfortably, "I don't think me being a Hufflepuff had anything to do with it or not to do with it."

Rita seemed pleased with these answers and moved onto Hermione, "Hermione! The fan favorite. Did you ever think you'd gain such a following?" She asked, leaning forward.

"Following?" Hermione frowned, "I was just playing the game." She decided to keep her answers curt. Much more and she'd throw up or start bawling on stage.

"Well, play it you did! Now, I think everyone wants to know about little Elizabeth. Wasn't that just the most heartbreaking thing ever?" She asked and the crowd gave moans and awws. Hermione stiffed. At least they weren't asking about Tracey or Blaise or Seamus or anyone else. Elizabeth…she deserved to be talked about.

"Yes, quite. She was an incredible girl and I regret what happened."

"But it could have never been the two of you," Rita waved her hands, "You realize that, right? Of course you do, you are the Smartest Witch of Our Age."

"Yes, I did. Doesn't change my opinion."

"Well, perhaps we should expect that. I think it's been awhile but perhaps we all forget you offered yourself up so another young girl didn't have to go through this." Rita said, which was true. In it all, even Hermione nearly forgot what started it all, "So, you nearly died during the games. I think you had the closest brush with death. Can you tell us at all what that was like?"

Hermione knew they were speaking of the time Draco saved her.

"Oh," She hadn't been prepared for this, "It was uhm, dark? I just remember little flits of conversation, like someone with a bad connection over the Floo. Colors. Sounds. Smells. It was…strange…" She felt the words come out, but it was like they were rocks, landing heavy in her jaws.

"I can't even imagine," Rita placed a hand dramatically on her chest, "And that brings us to Draco! You declared yourself the little doctor, didn't you? Strange, in a game that well, is the opposite."

"I guess," Draco crossed his legs and shrugged, "But gotta keep the game interesting, right?" He said, which seemed the exact right thing to say to manuver out of this mess because Rita threw her head back and laughed like he was the dardest most amusing thing.

"Draco, you are too right! Ah, well, I think we all knew you weren't going to be a force to be taken down easily. And Pansy, she seemed like she wanted you, didn't she?"

"Pansy is-," Hermione was the only one that could tell he almost lost it, just for a second, "Was," He corrected in a steely voice, "A deeply troubled person. I think she wanted my ability but not me, a person. She never wanted anyone for who they were, she just wanted to harness them."

"So you'd say she got what she deserved?"

"No one deserved that, you know," Draco rubbed the back of his neck, "But I think she made choices and she had to have known the consequences. I can't feel sorry for her like that."

"So true, this game is all about everyone and the choice they make that lead to things. I think you sum it up. Lastly, your father helped a great bit. Do you feel that you had an advantage no one else did?"

"In certain terms, sure. But the game was also about everyone using everything they had. I guess I was lucky," Draco conceded after a long moment, "Not everyone could get that…" He trailed off, "I'll be forever grateful though," He added, finishing strong.

"Such strong answers! Now, onto general questions about that ah-mazing finale! Any of you may answer these; just say what comes to mind. First, Pike switching sides, who would have guessed?"

"Pike was a complicated individual," Draco said, "I know that from the time I spent with him in Slytherin. I'm not entirely sure it wasn't selfish reasons." He said, rubbing his jaw. Hermione remembered for the little shit he might have been the way his voice broke in their time stop when he just begged to live. He wasn't lying then. That couldn't have been faked.

"Or maybe Pansy was just a jerk one too many times. I like to think people can change." Hermione but in, " Maybe we'll never know his reasons, but we should honor him because I don't think any of us would have lived if not for him."

"Hermione's right," Hannah nodded, "He was a game changer. I think he liked to press people's buttons, but at the end of the night…I think he knew he was going to die anyway."

"Yes, he did." Hermione agreed hazily, "Or, so I would think."

"Well, we will always remember him. He made it into the top 5, no small feat of course! And Pansy, she nearly did win, didn't she?"

"It was…close…" Draco mumbled.

"Too close," Hannah said a little above whispering and being discreet. When Rita gave her a questioning look she gave a long sigh, "Oh, come on. It would have been hell if Pansy won. She wouldn't have let anyone live with her and the world is probably better with her gone. The games fucked with her more than others."

"Plus she was half-plant at the end," Draco added, "That's dark magic. I wouldn't touch that with a ten-foot-wand."

"Hannah saved the day, of course." Hermione said, nudging her friend with a smile, "She's the one I think Draco and I should both be thanking forever! Hannah's the real hero here!"

Hannah blushed at her praise.

"Ah, you and Draco. I think that's bringing us to our last topic…you two…" Rita trailed off meaningfully, giving a wicked smile and a purr.

"Yeah, I like Hermione." Draco said point-blank, "I think she likes me…as far as I know." He gave her a teasing glance and Hermione couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah, I think he's alright." For the first time, it felt nice to be with him here on the stage. She got lost in his smile a little.

"Oh, how cute! But, honestly, Draco…you nearly had Pansy in that last battle, but Hermione stopped you. And Hermione, there's a lot of things you did that maybe you wouldn't have done if you weren't unattached. Would you say you're each other's weaknesses?"

"Erm," Draco flustered, "I mean, maybe that's not a bad thing."

"I don't think love itself is a weakness," Hermione said sharply, feeling deeply offended, "I think its' the reason we play this game. If I didn't have love, devotion, affection…why would any of it matter? So no, I don't." She narrowed her eyes, daring Rita to ask something else along those lines.

"I love Hermione, does that count?" Hannah asked.

"Well, that was a vey interesting interview, don't you all say?" Rita blustered right over Hannah's question, "We are sadly out of time, and we don't want to overwork these poor souls, now? They'll be back in a week to answer fan questions submitted to me! One last clap for our three victors!"

Hermione felt like she ran off that stage. She found the nearest trashcan and her stomach curled around and pushed up, even if was only bile she was heaving.

"Hermione-,"

"Weasley, get your hands off Hermione," Draco drawled, "I can handle it."

"No, no. Fred is a friend," Hermione said, looking at Draco, "He's just worried, I'm sure."

"I can't stay…I'm not even supposed to be out here, you know. I just…you looked bad on that stage, Hermione." He said, frowning.

"Don't you remember your own interviews?" Hermione asked, forcing a smile, "We'll talk soon. I'll find you." She said before he left again, casting a worried glance over.

"Hermione," Draco gave a long sigh.

"Don't be jealous of Fred Weasley. He probably wants to talk about Ron, you know. I was sorta the last connection." She pointed out, wiping the back of her lips, "I'm not a flighty type of girl."

"I…I never thought you were." He stuttered, "I just don't want to feel useless."

"You're not." Hermione assured. She felt herself still shaking. That was…rough. Damn.

"You all passed without crying or fainting, an improvement," Umbridge said, although Hermione couldn't recall anyone doing any of those things, but perhaps that was all behind the stage, "If you come with me now, I'll led you back to your changing rooms and then out. Then, you're free. With job stipulations, of course. But, as far as it goes, you're victors now and that means it's done."

Hermione never thought she'd be tempted to cry tears of joy at anything Umbridge said.

They were brought back to their dressing rooms. Hermione found herself alone, to team, just herself as she wiped her makeup from her face and began to try to unzip the back of her dress. Damn it, though, it was stuck.

"Hermione?" Draco knocked on the door.

"Draco, thank Merlin! Come in," Hermione breathed, "Can you get this?" She asked in a pained voice.

"Yeah, sure," He said. She shivered at his fingers on her exposed neck, the feeling as he unzipped her dress. There wasn't anything sexual about it though, not when all she really wanted to do was fall asleep in a nice big bed and forget this happened for a while.

"Hermione, I uh, this is going to sound really stupid," He kicked the chain with his foot as Hermione put back on her more comfortable clothes.

"What's wrong?"

"Did you love Seamus?" The words tumbled out. Hermione stood, stunned, and somehow this was a sign for Draco to keep talking, "I just…I remember all these little things and you two were paired in the beginning and then watching those videos and I just-," She'd never seen Draco look so unsure of himself, "How can I compete with someone like him?"

"I…" Hermione's eyes widened, but she couldn't find anything to say.

"He loved you. It was so damn clear. I wonder if I was so obvious. I bet I am. I bet I was." He said, adding quietly.

"Yeah, Seamus loved me," Hermione decided to begin with the facts she knew as a certainty. This always calmed her, "I knew, he was obvious. You are too." She added, snorting a bit.

"Oh," Draco sat on the couch, quiet.

"Seamus and I…he did a lot for me in the games, okay? He found me after I killed Blaise. I thought I was a monster, I should just die then. He helped me realize I wasn't totally. And he saved me. I didn't love him, though," Draco's head jerked up, shocked, "I think in a different life, I could have. Or maybe we wouldn't have worked. I don't know Draco. All I know is that I'm with you now, whatever that means for us." She breathed out heavily, "You shouldn't be jealous of someone whose dead either."

"I'm sorry," Draco hung his head, "I just, in the games…well, it was slim pickings. I guess I'm terrified out here you've…changed your mind." He admitted.

Hermione leaned forward, tilting his head up with her finger and leaning in for a kiss. It wasn't steamy or needy but it wasn't a gentle peck. Draco leaned into it, yearning for more and Hermione felt her heart beat fast, even if she had been the one to start it. When she pulled back, her whole head felt dizzy.

"Does it feel like I've changed my mind?" She asked.

"No," Draco laughed a little, "I guess I'm just being stupid."

"Maybe a little," Hermione agreed, holding up her fingers, "Look…here's what you need to know. I cared a lot about Seamus, he was a good friend and I miss him a lot. That's all." She said.

"That's all, got it." Draco nodded obediently, "I'm sorry I asked."

"I'm glad you did. I'm tired of people tiptoeing around issues. I don't want that to be us. Not in a world that's so fucking full of it now, you know?" Hermione said.

"I'm glad. But the whole world knows now…" He paused, biting his lip.

"The world always knew." Hermione snorted, "But…I'm glad you didn't define us up there," She said, motion with her hands.

"We're not together," Draco agreed, tilting his head, "Not right now." He added softly.

"One day." Hermione said with resolution, "I meant what I said back in the safe house. I'm not ready to be with anyone. I don't even know if I can be with myself after this. I'm so messed up," She dug her hands into her hair, "It's all so messed up."

"Hey," Draco's hands gently trailed down her wrist, "No pressure. I think there's things I should work on too, before we date or whatever it is." He paused and then took out his wand. Out of his cufflinks, he fashioned a ring for both of them, matching.

"Not a engagement ring, right, but a promise." He said, handing one to her, "There's no one else for me, but there's no one for me at all right now." He said. Hermione's hand closed around the ring.

"Yes, a promise for everything." She agreed.

There was a rap on the door.

"You two okay?" It was Hannah.

"Fine, fine." Hermione opened the door, "I was just…well, that was rough up there." She whispered quietly.

"No kidding," Hannah snorted, "You guys ready to go home?"

"I…where's home?" Hermione felt the words slip out before she could process them. She couldn't imagine going back to her childhood bedroom, with the pink sheets and dolls on the walls.

"I'm not sure either," Hannah stuck her hand in her pocket of her jeans, "One step at a time, yeah?"

"Yeah," Draco said, "Out those doors and into the day." He snorted, flicking his hand toward the white doors out of the stadium.

"They have our stuff out there," Hannah said, ignoring Draco, "And we have lots to do."

"Like what?" Hermione frowned, tilting her head.

Hannah's smile was tight.

"You'll see."

Don't think for a second this is done. We still have a couple chapters left...

I went so back and forth about who to appear to Hermione with the stone. I have like nine other versions of other people. First I thought maybe Seamus again, but I feel like i wrapped him away. I didn't think anyone else that died would be good, because it would be too fresh. Same with Harry, his story and Ron's were wrapped up when he died. Then I thought maybe Harry's dad. Then maybe Percy. Finally I settled on George. Hope ya like that bit.

In what else I'm working on, when I finish this (or Project Iphigenia, whichever comes first) I'm gunna post a Zutara AU of the series 'The Selection'. I'm already like 50 pages in and it's so easy to write! I also still have a very long SeamusxHermione one-shot to post, you know, when I finish it...

Lastly, would you all follow me if i made a tumblr just for like my artistic stuff? To post these fanfictions and my art or pictures relating to the fanfics? I've been thinking of making one...this way you all can also come and bother me to update without having to leave a review and I can do fun stuff like give excerpts of my latest stuff. What do you all think?

Remember to review!