A/N:
I know the last two chapters have been controversial and many of you aren't happy with their premise. This story may have started out as something that didn't feel heavy, but the intention was that it would always go dark. The Hunger Games are horrific, and though many of the elements are not compliant with the original THG series because of the influence of magic, you should feel horror when you read this story just as you would have if you read the original. There will continue to be character death and gore in this and I will flag it as it arises, but I promise that it's not all there is to this story. If it's too much to handle for you, I'm sorry. If you decide to stick around and fight through the darkness (like Hermione is), I promise I'll reward you with your fair share of happy moments.
This chapter is not as dark as the previous two but the same TW remain: there will be blood, there will be gore, and there will be death (creature). Proceed with caution.
Chapter 14: A Deal With The Devil, But The Devil's The Disguise
Hermione wasn't sure if it was seconds or minutes later that she heard a piercing scream. It came from the direction in which the Careers had gone and her stomach dropped.
It cut off abruptly and was followed by stark silence. There was only a brief moment before it filled the air again, ragged and pained.
Her feet started to move, fast. Not towards the danger, but away, as far away as she could take herself. She broke into a run and didn't look back.
Not knowing who the scream belonged to sent gooseflesh down her spine. It was as if the voice was being amplified through the grounds the same way the canons were. She knew her Patronus might not have made it in time. She knew it could have been Harry or Luna. She hoped she was wrong.
Her feet carried her away from where she hid when the Careers were just paces away, and towards the sound of the water. She ran past the spot where the tribute was killed just as her body was being lifted into the air by snatchers.
Though it was dark, the light from the snatcher wands illuminated the tribute's body and face. Dark blonde hair hung down as she floated into the air. But that was the only discerning feature as her face was otherwise unrecognizable, brutally deformed and bloody. A smashed baseball bat floated below her.
Hermione swallowed the bile that rose up to her throat at the sight. The Careers weren't just cold-blooded; they were heartless. Inhumane and vile.
They deserved the same torture and pain as they had inflicted.
At the somber sight of the girl, she picked up into a run again, faster than before. An early night breeze had started to filter through the trees and her hair billowed behind her as she held her wand up with a Lumos to light the path beneath her feet.
The same scream sounded again, causing her to flinch. It felt as though it was following her. The sound cut off abruptly in what sounded like a strangled gargle.
There were a few seconds of silence where the only thing she could hear was the pounding of her heart in her ears and the scruffs of her feet against the dirt ground before a canon went off in the distance.
It was entirely possible the canon didn't belong to Harry, or inadvertently Luna, but the chances were also stacked against them. Tears started to form in the corners of her eyes because she didn't know if she had done enough to stop whatever had happened, and a cruel part of her was certain that she hadn't.
Seeing how the lone tribute was killed, tortured and battered, filled her with rage. She knew that if the Careers had found Harry, his and Luna's death would have been imminent.
She couldn't blame herself. She couldn't blame herself. She couldn't blame herself.
The tears that had started as a trickle were now running down her cheeks and soaking through the neck of her shirt. She couldn't blame herself, but she did. She had likely hesitated too long, and the Patronus hadn't been fast enough. She felt their blood stain her soul as if they had died at her own ruthless hands.
Hermione ran until she felt like she couldn't run any longer, willing her Occlumency wall to hold up. Just a little longer until I can find safety.
Her mouth was painfully dry and as her heart raced, and she ached to fill it with water. Nearly 8 hours had passed since her bottle had run dry, and the stream of tears wasn't doing her any favors. She had been under the sun, had strained her body and mind, and desperately needed a drink.
Since the canon had gone off, she had focused her attention on the sound of the river. The further she ran, the closer it grew.
Her pace was frenzied as if someone was chasing her, but she knew nobody was. It was the same phantom feeling she felt coming up from the cellar at The Burrow. If she kept running, the darkness might not catch her.
As she neared the edge of the valley, a flicker of light caught her eye. It took her no time at all to realize it was a reflection, the moon bouncing off a layer of water.
Hermione had found the river.
She slowed her pace and dimmed the Lumos on her wand. She could hear the running water clearly, as it lapped up the edge of the bank and splashed into the air. A cold drizzle splattered across her face when the wind blew.
She could collapse from happiness at the sensation.
But she knew she wasn't out of danger yet. Any one of the other tributes could be at the riverbed at the same time as her. And she still didn't have a legitimate weapon, so caution now was better than death later.
She stopped abruptly in her tracks as she reached the edge of the forest before the bank. The river shined brightly against the light of the moon and looked like a stream of silver. She whispered, "Homenum Revelio," and waited for the swooping motion over her to indicate another presence.
But it never came.
The spell wasn't perfect, only covering a close vicinity, but it was enough to ease her nerves for the time being. She would fill her water quickly and be gone before any tribute neared close enough to get her.
As she stepped out from behind the cover of trees, the ground beneath her changed to a tightly packed sand. The slope of the bank descended before it was enveloped by the running water.
Hermione pulled the bottle out of her bag and took careful steps towards the stream's edge. She ran a diagnostic over it with her wand to ensure it was drinkable, and when the tip illuminated green, she dove her bottle in to start collecting.
The sight and confirmation of safe drinking water was the best outcome she could have hoped for at the end of the night she had had. She wouldn't allow herself to dwell on what became of Harry and Luna.
The announcements had yet to come over the sky and she didn't know when they would. It was a known tactic of the Games-makers to stagger them day in and day out if only to never make the tributes feel like they had figured out a pattern to the Games.
The feeling of the cool water against her hand brought relief to her whole body. Though the stream ran strong, it was soft against her skin and wholly refreshing. If she had more time, she wouldn't hesitate to dunk her whole body in it.
The bottle continued to fill as the water lapped around her and tickled her skin. Something slithered past her hand but she paid it no mind, as it could have been one of many things caught in the water. A leaf, or maybe even a fish.
Her bottle was nearly full when the slithering graced her skin again. The second time felt more alarming than the first, but she shrugged it off as paranoia.
Rising to her feet, she pulled her hand out of the bank and screwed the cap back onto the bottle. She picked up her dusty bag from the sand and tossed the bottle into it.
The dirt and sand settled onto her wet skin, quickly caking it in a thin hard layer. She stepped back to the river to rinse both her hands off before making her way back into the forest.
The water lapped against her skin and she relished in the cool feeling of it enveloping her hand, trying to imprint it into her memory. She would be able to find her way to the river again, but didn't know if the next time would be as peaceful.
As the dirt washed away from her hands, she moved to pull them back out and shake off the water. But as she did, something cold and slick suddenly wrapped around her arm.
The slimy substance slithered up her skin and enclosed around her wrist. The moment it did, she felt it pull at her. Startled, she yanked her arms back, briefly losing her footing on the sand but staying upright. Whatever wrapped around her didn't budge and instead pierced her skin sharply. She yelped as it punctured her and yanked her arms again, harder, until the strain released.
But not in the way she would have hoped. She pulled something right out of the water with a splash and as she stumbled back, came face to face with what had grabbed her.
It wasn't a leaf or a fish or even a piece of seaweed.
It was a Grindylow.
A demon that lived in freshwaters and feasted on witches and wizards. It was the type of creature that parents scared their children with when they misbehaved, and for good reason. Grindylows were small but vicious, and though she couldn't see much of this one in the dark, she knew it was horned and had a mouth full of pointy teeth.
The same teeth that had sunk into her arm.
Long tentacles hung down below the grindylow in her arms. Its nails dug into the frail skin on the inside of her wrists and she could feel better than she could see the punctures through her tendons and veins.
Hermione tried to pull the creature off of her but its grip on her held strong. Her hands remained in a lock, pressed against one another firmly. The Grindylow opened its mouth, which reeked of spoiled garbage, and dove for her arm. She jumped back and threw her hands down, slamming it into the ground with her.
On impact, the Grindylow moaned but still didn't release its hold on her. She slammed it down to the ground again and it splashed her with specs of slimy skin and guts, but it remained glued to her skin.
She threw her head back and groaned, frustrated because it seemed like she could not catch a break. She slammed the creature down again, then a second time, and then a third in quick succession, and it crunched and snapped against the ground each time. Its small body flailed in the air when she swung her arms down and the slimy tentacles squished under her hands at each impact.
After the third time, the creature went limp. Its guts oozed out of it in chunks and mixed with dark liquid that trailed down its bludgeoned tentacles. Though its grip on her wrists remained tight, she thought she might have had an opening to shake it off and grab for her wand. But that thought passed quicker than it came.
Suddenly, she felt the tug against the creature, and it took her a moment to realize it wasn't the one responsible. Instead, a small army of heads popped out from the water.
An entire pack of Grindylows surrounded her, having grabbed onto the dead one's tentacles to pull it back into the water.
One Grindylow, she might have been able to manage. But the sight of a vicious group filled her with dread.
"Accio wand!" she called out. But it remained in its place.
She felt her feet sliding through the damp sand beneath her shoes as they pulled against the creature still locked around her.
"Accio!" - Wand!" she tried again, but was again met with silence.
She quickly found herself almost knee-deep in water, with no grip on her feet and no way of stopping the pull.
Hermione scraped at her arms, desperately trying but failing to pull the Grindylow off of her. Her feet continued to skid through the slippery river ground as she was dragged further and further into the water.
This is not how this is supposed to end.
This is not how I'm supposed to die!
"Please!" she begged to the empty night sky. "Please! Accio wand!"
She was desperate. Desperate and hopeless.
Her wand remained lodged in its holster, not responding because it was practically in her hand. But not quite. Not close enough to wrap her fingers around and Relashio the creatures away.
Her magic pulsed at the tips of her fingers as the Grindylows started to climb up her form. A tormented scream left her body.
This would be the end of her.
The creatures scraped at her and yanked her hair, wrapping their slimy little fingers around her legs, her torso, and her neck. With her wrists still bound by the dead creature at her hands, she had no way to throw them off, and her panic turned to fear which quickly turned to anguish.
She cried out, too desperate to think about the fact that nobody would be there to help.
Her cry, muffled by spider-like fingers gnashing at her face, was still too loud for her to hear the splash of water.
One pronounced splash.
Then another.
And when the Grindylow attached to her neck fell back and caused the third splash, she finally heard it.
Something small whizzed by her ear. She heard the swish of it as it flew across the river and disappeared into the forest. It left two splashes trailing in its path.
She didn't know what was happening but slowly, the Grindylows started to fall like dominoes. First the one from her neck, then one that was climbing up her chest, before finally the weight of the hold on her wrists decreased.
A rogue head floated by her body in the water and she squirmed away from it. Stumbling back, water still splashing along the river stream, she was met with another head. Its beady eyes were still open and its mouth hung agape.
The water around her started to reek with the smell of blood. The creatures were being decapitated and she was in the middle of it all.
She had to get out. Now.
What remained of the Grindylow at her wrists, were just its claws now. She pulled her arms apart swiftly and the brittle skin exploded in a violent rip.
Hands finally free, she grabbed one Grindylow off of her back and hurled it into the air away from her. The sound of the swish came quickly and she saw light gleam off a small object that sliced its way through the creature. It fell into the water in two pieces.
She ducked her head and grabbed for her wand. The Grindylows that had been lucky enough to escape decapitation up until that point followed her. She started to shoot spells into the water without a second thought.
Relashio, after relashio, after relashio. It was the only magical spell that could hold them at bay. Not kill them, but annoy them enough to retreat.
Pulling herself up the river bank on her hands and heels, she laid her back as low to the ground as she could while the spells continued to leave her wand. She was panting, heart racing in her chest, and was entirely consumed by the flashes of magic and splashing water all around her.
The further she moved away from the water, the more it seemed like the attack wasn't intended for her. Instead, it was hyper-focused on the creatures still in the river.
The splashes accelerated, one after another, two and three at once, and sounded like hail raining down from the sky. She threw her hands over her head and pressed herself flat to the ground, blood mixed with sweat, water, and tears all over her body. Sand filled her mouth, but she waited with bated breath for it all to pass.
Suddenly everything around her stilled.
A gust of wind blew through the trees and leaves rattled on their branches above her. She hesitated for a moment before she slowly lifted her head up, and let her eyes adjust to the darkness around her.
The water lapped up the bank calmly and reflected the bright moon off of it. She couldn't even count how many bodies, limbs, and heads floated at the top of the river.
It looked like a Grindylow stew.
The air hit her face and made her feel like she had dunked her whole body in ice. She was alert and instantly aware of everything around her, and she got to her feet to brush the sand off her body. She saw the waves of the water and the bobbing parts in it and heard every detail of the leaves, the wind, and the hoot of an owl in the distance. She didn't know how much time had passed since she had first found the water, but the moon right above her was telling.
Night-time had already fallen.
As the pace of her breathing calmed, she stood and took in the details before her, looking for any inconsistency, any flash or sign of another life or enemy. Her focus lent well to catching a swish when it sounded and one of the small objects dove out of the water. She ducked her head as it passed and heard it land behind her.
She wasn't alone.
This wasn't over yet.
Her heart sped again as she whirled around towards the forest, wand in hand and arm extended out, ready to shoot out a multitude of curses and hexes. She turned blindly in the dark, aiming for wherever the objects had flown to and her wand was stopped in her turn by a solid presence.
She was still standing on the riverbank, no trees for some distance, and it took a second for her eyes to adjust in the dark to see what had stopped her wand.
It was not a what, but a who.
Her wand pressed into the juncture of a neck, right underneath the sharp line of a chin. Her hand shook and she felt the wand tip graze against a patch of short stubble.
She stood face to face with another tribute.
A murmured Accio had another object whirling past her ear and landing directly into the pouch at his hip.
It was a pouch for throwing stars.
She watched his hand reach for it and caress the flap with his fingers before pulling it closed. She pressed her eyes to his face and when his met hers, she filled with rage.
"Normally a damsel in distress thanks her knight in shining armor," he drawled.
She caught the faint rise of his brow before she saw what was slung over his back.
Her bow and quiver of arrows.
Hermione saw red.
She pressed her wand into his neck harder, feeling as the taut skin strained towards the indention she caused. But he just looked at her, completely unbothered. Swallowing slowly, the breath getting stuck where she dug into him, but his face betrayed nothing.
Instead, the corner of his mouth pulled into a smirk.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now, Malfoy," she spat.
He looked taken back, eyes widening in feigned shock.
"Just one?" he mocked.
Her blood boiled at his facetious tone. She didn't need even one.
"First of all, a thank you would be nice."
She tipped her body towards him, inadvertently pushing even deeper into his skin. Her eyes swam with fury at the sight of him just standing there, the weapon that he had snatched from under her draped over his body, as if it wasn't her only lifeline in his hands.
"A thank you?" she growled. "For what? You almost killed me!"
"I killed those disgusting things that almost killed you."
The moonlight reflected off the edge of his nose and she saw him trail his eyes over her face and down her chest before he locked in on the spot over her heart.
She threw her hand up instinctively to cover it from his prying eyes but her fingers only graced the edges of her pin.
"If I wanted to kill you, you'd already be dead," he said over his shoulder as he opened up another pouch for his stars.
For a split second, she wondered why he hadn't. He hadn't even tried to grab for his wand, which remained slotted in the holster on his chest.
"Now if you'll excuse me, I need to clean the mess up after the damsel."
At that, she pushed him hard. Both hands on his chest and with all her might, but he barely stumbled. She pushed him again, taking a deep step into it, and he looked down at her and rolled his eyes.
"I - am - not - a - damsel," she hissed, enunciating every word between a shove, fists hitting the firm expanse of his collar and resounding with a thud.
He did nothing but laugh, throwing his head back and breaking into a deep and infectious roar.
"I will kill you!" she yelled, trying to get him to hear her over his own voice. "I can think of 50 different spells that would kill you right now!"
He brought his head back down to look at her, a hazy expression marring his face.
"Then kill me," he said. His tone of indifference only made her angrier.
"Give me the bow and arrow and I'll reconsider," she wagered.
He looked like he wanted to laugh again, but didn't. He shrugged his shoulders before he spoke. "Just kill me."
Hermione didn't know what game he was playing but she needed no part in it. She wanted to get the bow and arrow and get out. No thank you's or lifelong debts in the process.
"Give me the bow and arrows."
"If you want them, you'll have to kill me for them," he smirked.
"No!"
She didn't know why the word came out of her mouth so quickly, but his goading had messed with her head. She didn't want to actually kill him. At least not right now. She was tired and hungry and still thinking about Harry and Luna and the lifeless body of the girl the Careers had killed. She just wanted to sleep.
To hold the bow and arrows in her arms and fall into a dreamlike state.
Was it a sin to be too tired to kill another tribute? Was it a sin to look them in the eye and have a spell at the tip of your tongue but hold yourself back from uttering it? A sin to know that if you eliminated them, your road to victory would only be easier, but a part of you didn't want it easy?
A part of you wanted to take the godforsaken Games and everyone that built them and burn it all down to the ground. To take out every Games-maker, every politician, and every person that bet on the outcome of the lives of people and destroy them.
Was that a sin?
Yes.
Then she was a sinner.
"How about we make a deal?" his voice broke through her reverie.
Hermione wasn't in the business of making deals with people who had it out for her. He might not have killed her today, but he had every right to after this moment passed.
He was unfazed by her non-response and was already pushing his arm through the sling of the bow and pulling it over his head.
"I give you the bow and arrows," he said, holding them out to her outstretched in his hand.
She started to reach for the bow but he clasped his fingers around it and pulled it back from her with a glint in his eyes. He tutted at her before he continued, "and in exchange, we work together."
Everything around her came crashing down. Nothing felt real and she wondered if she was dreaming.
But the logical part of her knew this wasn't a dream. She was in the Hunger Games and it was a nightmare.
Had she heard him correctly? Had he suggested they work together?
The way the Careers "work together"? Or better? Worse?
Most importantly, why?
Her mind raced with a thousand questions, a million possibilities, but not a single thought of an actual answer.
She couldn't do this right now. She wanted to grab the bow and arrow and just get out. She needed a night with her thoughts, a night to mourn what might have happened, and relish in the relief of what didn't.
Work together? She didn't even know what she had left in her in order to work at it all alone.
He could see the hesitation in her eyes as her mind whirred but no sound escaped from her mouth. She opened it, then closed it again, met his eyes, but then looked away. She had nothing conclusive to say.
He extended the bow and quiver to her again and looked at her expectantly.
This was his peace offering, she realized.
Hermione felt her fingers pull towards the offering at their own volition. The confusion and doubt were written all over her face.
"Think about it, Granger." She met his eyes and hoped it showed that she would.
He let go of the weapon and let it sink into her hands. Before he retreated into the forest, he gave her a two-finger salute.
She watched him walk up the slope of the riverbank with ease, shuriken stars flying towards him from all around and landing in the pouch at his hip.
Right before she lost sight of him, he turned back to look at her and wavered in the silence. She saw something unsettling in his eyes as the moonlight hit them before he turned away and disappeared into the woods.
A/N:
My advice to Hermione: "Sometimes a deal with the devil is better than no deal at all." ― Lawrence Hill, 'Someone Knows My Name'
See you next week for chap 15.