A/N: Huge thanks to Gabby (supernovanox on AO3, wattpad, and TikTok), Zara (zara._anna on TikTok), and Megan (megsivy on TikTok) for beta-ing.

Chapter 2: One Less Bell, One Less Man to Kill

The moment after Ginny's name was read out, everything blurred. Hermione tried to remember how to breathe, how to blink, how to think and process the words that were just spoken out but she couldn't. She felt arms around her and realized that she was falling, the boy standing next to her having caught her before she hit the ground.

This could not be happening. There must have been some sort of mistake. Magic was wrong sometimes, right? This was just a bad dream, a nightmare, and everyone would just snap out of it in a few moments. Hermione waited. She pinched herself. She didn't snap out of it.

Ginny was one name of thousands. Thousands. Hermione herself had five times the slips that Ginny had in the goblet. This could not be happening. They had done everything within their control to avoid this. All the partem taken in her place, the odds were supposed to be in her favor! Hermione felt herself starting to hyperventilate.

Somewhere in the distance, she heard a strangled sob, presumably Molly. "Ginny!" roared Ron's voice, broken and anguished. Her eyes snapped to the movement near the front of the crowd as Ginny slowly made her way towards the stage, stunned, her arms stiff in clenched fists by her side. She was the color of white sheet, lips trembling and stone faced. As she passed more visibly, Hermione noticed the shirt stuck out of her skirt that she had told her to tuck in before they left. It was that very detail, her dragon tail, that brought Hermione back to her senses.

"Ginny!" she cried out, her throat tight and voice raspy. "Ginny, wait!" she called out again. As Ginny was moments from stepping up the stairs leading to the stage, Hermione grabbed her by her sleeve and pulled her back.

"I volunteer!" she panted out. "I volunteer as tribute!"

There was a collective gasp amongst the crowd, followed by a considerable amount of confusion on the stage. Volunteers were unusual for the Hunger Games so the protocol was questionable at best. Typically, only a girl could volunteer in place of another girl and vice versa for the boys. In Districts where potential tributes trained for the Games from the moment they could walk, volunteering was a more common practice. In District 12, where being a tribute meant a one way ticket to a shallow grave, volunteers were scarce.

"That's wonderful!" sang Rita Skeeter, plastering a greedy smirk to her face. "I believe we need to call out the male winner before you, um…" she paused, unsure of herself.

"If the girl wants to volunteer now, I don't believe it makes much of a difference," spoke the mayor. He recognized Hermione, for only that morning she and Ron had sold him strawberries. "Let her come forward."

Ginny screamed out behind Hermione, grasping at her arms to stop her from going. "You can't Hermione, no!"

"Ginny, let me go," she muttered, more harshly than intended. It was all she could do to stop herself from crying. She knew if the cameras caught her weakness, she would be seen as an easy target. Someone who was weak. She didn't want anyone to have that leverage over her. "Let. Go." she said again.

Hermione felt Ginny's hands release from her back. She turned to see Ron pulling her away, still thrashing in his arms. He locked eyes with Hermione and exchanged a look of understanding with her, his eyes saying everything he couldn't in that moment. I would be in your place if I could be. Thank you. His lip trembled and she could see him fighting to keep his face steady, forcing impassivity. He pulled Ginny further into the crowd towards their parents. Hermione turned to the stage and climbed the steps.

"Brava!" prattled Rita Skeeter. "Such spirit!" Hermione knew the woman felt satisfied to finally have some action, some drama she could tie her name to, from a District that always disappointed. "What's your name?"

She swallowed hard. "Hermione Granger."

"I can bet my Jimmy Choo's that was your little sister, wasn't it!? Can't have her stealing all the glory, can you?"

Hermione chose not to answer. She didn't know what Jimmy Choo's were, but blood sister or not, it was all just semantics.

Rita Skeeter noticed her ignore the question and stuck her nose in the air. "Let's give a big round of applause for our newest tribute, everybody!"

Nobody in the crowd clapped. Not even the swindlers who bet on the reaping. What could be considered disrespect, a slap in the face, Hermione interpreted as a statement. The boldest opposition they could make that wouldn't get them all killed. Hermione stood on the stage and looked towards the crowd in silence, her hands clasped before her. Their stillness spoke volumes. It said, we do not agree. We will not celebrate. We do not condone.

Drowned in the silence, something happened that she didn't expect. Mostly because she didn't actually think anyone in the District cared enough about her for it. Yet, she had felt the shift amongst the crowd when she took Ginny's place. A lone arm raised above the crowd is what she spotted first. Then another joined it, and another, until the crowd was a sea of arms. Everyone touched their three middle fingers to their lips slowly and then held them out in a salute to Hermione. It was an old tradition and gesture of deference. It meant thank you, it meant we respect you, it meant a passing along of strength for a difficult journey ahead. It was a good-bye to someone you admired.

Hermione had to bite her tongue to stop herself from crying. Fortunately for her, Moody chose that moment to stagger from his chair to congratulate her. "Look at this one! The bravest witch!" he hollered, throwing an arm around her shoulders. He smelt of liquor and stale sweat. "I like her! A bright young witch!" he yelled triumphantly. He turned to the camera and wagged his finger at it. "More than you!" he shouted, for a moment sounding almost sober. "More than all of you!"

He seemed to be addressing the audience more than anything, but then again, Hermione wondered if he meant it to the Pure Capital. Was he taunting them?

He intended to continue but just as he opened his mouth, he tumbled off the side of the stage and plummeted to the ground, quickly falling unconscious. Every camera panned to him. Hermione released her breath, strengthened the hold on her clasped hands, and looked out into the distance.

She spotted the hill that she had met Ron on in the morning. In that moment, she yearned to live out the words he spoke, to run off from the District and live in the woods.

While Moody was stretchered off, Rita Skeeter attempted to get the reaping started again. "It's time to choose the boy tribute!" she exclaimed, her voice rising multiple decibels louder than necessary. She crossed the stage to the goblet with boy names and as she did with the girls, stuck her hand out towards it to wait for the slip of paper. The blue flames around the goblet stretched up to the edges and whipped about as if in contemplation. They started to rise beyond the edge, higher and taller, until they engulfed the goblet almost entirely. Suddenly the flames flashed red and erupted multiple feet into the air. Rita Skeeter jumped backwards, from the heat and the shock for what was an atypical event. Just as quickly as the flames flashed red and high, they crashed down to the base of the goblet and extinguished. Smoke rose from where the flames were moments before but the goblet showed no other evidence of activity. It was as if it had gone dormant.

The Mayor's jaw dropped open. "I don't understand," he said, looking to Rita for explanation. She looked at him equally dumbfounded.

Hermione looked out to the crowd and noticed similar expressions of confusion on everyone's face.

"But this cannot be," Rita Skeeter finally said.

The earpiece in her ear flared and stole her attention, her eyes widening as she listened to instructions. She nodded animatedly and cleared her throat moments later before speaking.

"It appears the goblet has made a decision," she announced. "There will be no boy tribute."

The confusion amongst the crowd turned to shock, with whispers spreading amongst the masses. No boy tribute? Hermione had never heard of something like that happening. She knew the goblet was sentient and had the power to judge and select entries, but to select none at all? Was that possible?

"It has deemed the female volunteer a worthy action," she continued, in a voice unlike her own as if simply repeating what she was told through her earpiece. "It believes that the one tribute is enough for District 12."

Silence plagued the square.

"Here, I would normally ask for any male volunteers," Rita Skeeter said. "That would go against the decision of the goblet, so I cannot." The look of perplex had yet to leave her face.

The mayor started to read the long decree that always followed the selection of tributes. But Hermione wasn't listening.

She didn't know whether that meant the odds were in her favor or not. They definitely were not, as she had probably just punched her ticket to an untimely end. This was probably the last time she would see this square. But a small sliver of her tried to look on the bright side. One less tribute to try and kill.

The mayor finished reading the decree and shook Hermione's hand, pausing to pose for the cameras ahead. As that moment passed, she turned to the crowd for the playing of the anthem of Regnum.

Twenty Three of us, she thought to herself. May the odds be ever in my favor.

A/N:
The goblet of fire is a sentient object so it can do as it pleases, hence Hermione being the only chosen tribute. There will be no exact "Peeta" equivalent in this story, but for very good reason. Our dragon does not live in District 12. He's a pureblood, and a wealthy member of the state. I wonder what that means? His story is coming!

This was a short chapter to hold you over until things really get going. From this point forward, I'll be posting updates every Thursday. Stay tuned for chapter 3 next week - it'll be a goodie!