Hermione stirred in her sleep as a warm ball of fur nuzzled against her face. Gently pushing it away, she opened her eyes to find Crookshanks impatiently waiting on her lap to get up. Rising up from the uncomfortable pillow, she quickly took in her surroundings that certainly weren't the kitchen but the drawing room.
Hermione rubbed her tired eyes and swung her legs over the edge of the couch, her back already aching from her long and restless night. While Harry had been so kind as to move her to a more comfortable location rather than the kitchen floor, she couldn't help but wonder if it would've been better there - then she wouldn't have had to endure the nightmares again.
Her train of thought was interrupted by the pestering cat now sitting at her feet, nudging her leg in retaliation to not being fed. Scooping Crookshanks into her arms, Hermione gave him a gentle kiss before making her way back towards the hallway. Even during the day, she couldn't help but notice the emptiness the house held with its dreary walls, creaky staircases, horrid "trophies", and lack of practically anything bright or joyful. She tightened her hold around the feline clutched to her chest.
Approaching the kitchen, Hermione could smell a fresh batch of eggs, bacon, and porridge awaiting her plate; a true treat considering they usually only ate stale toast with week old marmalade. Her mouth already watering, she pushed open the door and gently set Crookshanks down.
Ron and Harry seemed to be deep in a hushed conversation, and it was only when she cleared her throat did they look up, erasing away their worried expressions.
"Morning Mione!" Ron called out to her from across the kitchen, piling more food onto the mountain building up on his plate. Harry was leaning against the counter beside him, a cup of steaming hot coffee in his hand.
"Good morning, boys," she replied, putting on a smile. She already knew the answer to her question, but she asked anyway. "Did I interrupt anything?"
Ron hastily put down his plate. "What? No, no, of course not! We were just talking about the "big day". Nothing to worry about, though."
Hermione nodded her head, though not fully convinced. Walking to their area at the table, she took a seat where a large bowl of grits with a dash of brown sugar was waiting for her. Her stomach growling but not wanting to be rude, she waited for the boys to sit down before digging into her breakfast.
"So," Harry began taking another slow slip of coffee. "I know that it's coming up pretty soon, but I was wondering if-"
"It's tomorrow", Hermione interjected, slowly stirring her porridge. "I forgot to mention that last night, but it's tomorrow at two o'clock. Mandatory as always, and they'll be doing it in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
Harry simply nodded while Ron wore a quizzical look across his freckled features.
"I didn't see any letter arrive," he said. "And who says we bloody have to go, anyway?"
"To answer your first question, it only arrived last night but I, er, lost it by accident," Hermione started, quickly glancing at the coal bin that still contained the reminisce of the invitation letter. "And for the second, we've been through this, Ron, and I don't think we need to discuss it again."
"But why should we just sit by and watch?" he retaliated, his voice rising with each word. "They just get the entertainment out of it while we sit back and see - "
"And for the time being that's all we can do!" Hermione interrupted. "Until the Order can come up with some way to hold the Death Eaters back, or find a way to get more recruits, the most we can do is be patient. You know this, Ronald, and I know you hate how things are. We all do. With each passing day things may just get worse and worse. But we have to have faith. That's what Dumbledore wanted us to hold onto; and Sirius, and Lupin, and Tonks, and all of them."
"Like that's done anything helpful lately," Ron muttered under his breath, shoving a sausage into his mouth and chewing furiously. "You of all people should be angry with how things are right now, but you're sitting there telling me you want nothing done about it."
"Ron, come on, you know that's not what she meant," Harry said, interjecting to try and defuse the growing tension between his two friends. "She just means it's hard to find recruitments when we can't even leave without being followed."
Ron let out a huff and grumbled something under his breath. Hermione couldn't catch it in time as he shoved another piece of food in his mouth. Shaking her head at him, she rose from her seat and walked to the counter to grab a cup of coffee herself. She never had cared for the bitter liquid, but it's burning taste would be worth it after the night she had had. Mug in hand, she headed for the door without a word to either of them.
Hermione reached the staircase and began her climb. By the second floor, she almost choked on the lump rising in her throat and the pool of tears spilled from her eyes as they did almost always nowadays. Ignoring the odd glances from the portraits, she all but sprinted to her room and firmly shut the door behind her. Hands shaking violently, she set her cup down and ran to her bed, her old sheets and scratchy blankets a sudden comfort.
Hermione clutched her pillow and let out all her pain like she had done the night before. She wasn't sure how long she had stayed in her room, or how many tears had landed on her blankets, or even the number of quiet and pleading knocks that came from the other side of her locked door. Hermione simply let her emotions go, and by the time she could smell something burning in the kitchen, her tears had lulled her into a peaceful sleep.
The next morning, or Hermione soon found out to be afternoon, she was woken by a soft shake of her leg. Rolling over, her eyes heavy with sleep, she practically jumped out of her skin as she came face to face with Kreacher. She clutched her chest and tried to get her breathing under control before the elf spoke in his craggly, toad-like voice.
"Master Potter has sent Kreacher for you, miss," he stated as if it were obvious. "Kreacher is to tell you to get dressed and ask that you eat before leaving from Master."
Hermione rubbed her eyes and nodded, sending him off with a quiet 'thank you'. Rising from her bed, she stretched her back and walked to the edge of the room where a large wardrobe awaited her choice of clothes.
She opened the wide doors and took a glance through the many dresses she had kept over the years in hopes one might still fit. Not that it mattered much, she wasn't trying to impress anyone there at the Ministry.
Hermione suddenly stopped on her mother's old Sunday dress. It was so simple yet so elegant. A soft blue knee length dress with short ruffled sleeves and a matching ribbon around the front. Pulling it off of its hanger, she walked to the dusty mirror in the corner and held the dress up to her chest. For a moment, Hermione could have sworn she saw her mother standing there, but in the blink of an eye, she was gone.
Shaking her head, she turned to her bed and gently laid out the dress. Hermione turned back to the wardrobe and dug around the bottom for a pair of shoes. Finally settling on a pair of brown slip-ons, she quickly undressed herself and slipped the dress over her head.
Grabbing the brush on her nightstand, she maneuvered it through her hair and settled it in a simple bun. Luckily, her hair had miraculously decreased in its usual bushy array of tangles. Not that she much cared for looks, but she admitted that you could say she looked...pretty.
Hermione picked up her now cold cup of coffee from the morning before and opened the door. She let out a surprised gasp as she came face to face with a mane of fiery, red hair
"Ginny?" Hermione asked in awe. Having not seen the girl for four months, she almost didn't even recognize her. Her vibrant red hair was pulled into a single braid down her back, complimenting the simple skirt and ruffled blouse she wore. "Oh Ginny it is you!"
With a delightful squeal, Hermione wrapped her arms around the girl, being careful not to slosh any liquid on her blouse. Ginny returned the hug with a light squeeze before pulling back. "It's lovely to see you again, Hermione!"
"What on earth are you doing here?" Hermione questioned. "I didn't think anyone was able to get through the protection spells Harry cast around the house."
"Well being part of the Order has a few perks as you may know," she replied, a bright smile lighting up her freckled-features. "Now, I know mum and dad are just as thrilled to see you - "
"Molly and Arthur are here too?" Hermione practically shrieked. Molly and Arthur had always been like a second mother and father to her when she had stayed at the Burrow during the late summer months, and even when she went to Hogwarts, she had missed them dearly.
"Of course, everyone is! But you know, for the…" Ginny's voice trailed off as a glazed look came over her eyes. Hermione's smile dropped as she watched her friend change so quickly, no doubt thinking of the last Reaping.
Poor George had to be stunned in order to get him off the security guards leading Fred away. Fred had been so brave throughout the remainder of the Games, but the Death Eaters had been absolutely ecstatic to finally see him finished off in the sixth trial. A shiver ran up her spine as she too recalled the memories of his death and the sorrowful days that had followed. Seeing as Ginny wasn't done with hers, though, Hermione gave her a gentle shake.
Seeming to snap her out of her thoughts, Ginny plastered a weak grin and asked if Hermione was hungry.
"Famished actually," she chuckled, closing the door behind her. They descended the stairs in an awkward silence before Hermione tried to defuse the tension in light conversation.
"How's the business been going for George so far?" she asked.
"I can't say it's been great," Ginny replied sadly. "We still get business, I mean, but not near as much as when we were back in school. Most of the shops in Diagon Alley have transferred to selling dark-magical artifacts like the ones at Borgin and Burkes. We've only had a few customers each day, and even then they hardly ever buy anything."
"I'm really sorry to hear that, Ginny," Hermione muttered as they reached the first floor. "I hope things start to pick back up soon. And really, if there's anything I can do, just let me know. It might not be much, but I'll definitely give it a try. Who knows, I may even try one of those Skiving Snackboxes I've heard so much about!"
Ginny snorted and seemed to return to her old self. "I'll hold you to that promise."
The two girls found their way to the back dining room, but before Hermione could get a single word in as she approached the doorway, a pair of arms pulled her in for a tight embrace.
"Oh, Hermione dear!" Mrs. Weasley squealed, pulling back to get a good look at her. "How wonderful to see you again. My, how you've grown since I last saw you. And more beautiful at that, if I may say."
"It's wonderful to see you too, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione grinned before being pulled into another tight hug. Her stomach gave a loud rumble as she was led back to her spot, the Weasley family welcoming her with a warm embrace. Everyone was dressed in formal attire, even though the boys looked mildly uncomfortable in the suits Molly most likely forced them into. Her stomach continued to rumble as she took in the lunch set out before her in a variety of fresh rolls, warm soups, steaming vegetables, and two pitchers of fresh butter beer.
"Good gracious, you must be starving!" Mrs. Weasley cried, scurrying to get her a fresh bowl of soup. "We may not be back in time for dinner so you'll want all the energy you can get."
The room's atmosphere suddenly changed as everyone sat down to eat. No one began a conversation on the rubbish the Daily Prophet had printed, or how business was at George's joke shop. Instead, a deafening silence followed only broken by the clank of a spoon against dishware or the slurp of a drink.
Hermione glanced around to see the gloomy expressions now etched on the faces of her friends and family, and she couldn't help but feel pity towards the Weasley family. This was the first year they had been without the entire family sitting down for a warm meal, and without even thinking about it, her eyes traveled to the empty seat beside George. Hermione's heart sank even as the soup's warm, creamy liquid filled her stomach.
By the time everyone had finished and cleared they're spots from the table, it was three minutes until the window of their floo network was fully operational to gain access to the Ministry. Mrs. Weasley ushered everyone into the drawing room where the grand fireplace stood awaiting their departure. No one spoke as Mrs. Weasley bustled about, making sure everything was in order before they left.
Unlike the rest of them, Mrs. Weasley wanted to make an impression on the Ministry. While Ron scoffed at the effort she was trying to put in, Hermione found it inspiring. Even though she had lost one of her sons to the horrid games ahead of them, she wasn't about to give up hope that things could be made right once again. As she approached Hermione, though, she didn't miss the faint lines of worry etched on her brow, and the twinkle of fear in her eyes.
Mrs. Weasley straightened the top of Hermione's dress and fixed a loose strand of hair, tucking it behind her ear. Hermione looked into her eyes and could see the tears rising. But before she could say anything to assure Mrs. Weasley everything would be alright, Molly pulled something from her cardigan pocket. A soft blue aster, the same as her dress. Mrs. Weasley gently arranged the flower into the back of Hermione's bun; a simple yet vibrant touch.
Before either of them could get another word in, Arthur announced, "We best be off now. Don't want to be late now do we?"
Hermione gave Molly's hand a gentle squeeze before lining herself up with Harry as he stepped into the fireplace. Taking a fistful of floo powder and gently grabbing her wrist, he shouted, "London Ministry of Magic!"
Her surroundings were devoured in a wave of green flames. She had only flooed once or twice in her lifetime, and this time was no better than the ones before. Hermione felt as if she was being sucked down a giant drain, the roaring in her ears absolutely deafening. She squeezed her eyes shut and tightened her hold on Harry to a bruising force. Hermione hadn't even realized the world had stopped spinning until Harry gave her arm a gentle tug.
Opening her eyes, Hermione was met with a sorrowful sight.
The dark halls of the Ministry were lined with hundreds of wizarding families, huddled close together in groups. Death Eaters and security officers lined the walls, watching for anyone stepping out of line. They looked bored, almost hoping they would have an excuse to torture someone.
Stepping out of the fireplace, Hermione looked behind her to see the rest of the Weasley family coming in one by one. As she stood still gripping Harry, she continued to take in her surroundings. The statue in the center of the lobby had been replaced once again by a large pillar, the placement of Muggle-borns and Muggles squashed underneath it. A large stone "M" was placed on top beside a snake curling around its edges.
The rising offices that once lined the walls were now bordered shut with planks of black wood. Watch towers were now placed around its perimeter, each holding more security guards than the last.
Hermione managed to swallow her fear and held her chin high, not daring to lower her guard for the people who thought she was equivalent to nothing. With Harry and Ron at her side and the Weasley's following close behind her, they found an empty spot within the hundreds and thousands of people and moved along with the crowd.
The farther she was marched into the Ministry, the tighter her stomach knotted. The temperature around her was near freezing, and memories of her past slowly flowed in to haunt her. Rounding a corner, she gasped as at least thirty dementors were held back by the patronus' of the Ministry employees, who watched with satisfaction as the families gripped their children tighter as they passed the soul-sucking creatures.
Hermione didn't even glance at them as she passed, and kept her eyes trained forward. Harry and Ron did the same.
Arriving at the elevators, she was stopped by an official with a clipboard. Not even looking up at them he grumbled "State your names and status."
Mr. Weasley stepped forward and replied, "Arthur Weasley, pure-blood, and here with my wife and family."
The man scribbled something down on his clipboard, then handing them a small slip of paper, he motioned the Weasley's into the elevator. Hermione and Harry stood back and waited as the doors closed and they were taken down to the next level. As they did, Hermione didn't miss the look Ginny and Harry shared, and she almost cracked a smile. Almost.
"State your names and status," the man grumbled again.
This time, Hermione held her head high and exclaimed, "Hermione Granger, Muggle-born, here with Harry Potter, half-blood."
The man finally stopped writing and looked up from his clipboard, studying the girl in front of him for a moment. A smirk cracked at the corner of his lips revealing a sharp canine, but Hermione didn't dare lose eye contact with him, keeping her head held high.
He turned his attention to Harry and commented, "This one yours? She's a mighty fine one, I'll give you that. Though she'll need to learn her place sooner or later. Wouldn't want her - "
"If you don't mind, we'd like to get on with it already." Harry spoke in a calm, straight voice, but Hermione could hear the anger leaking through.
"Of course, Mr. Potter," the man addressed, his voice dripping with mocking sarcasm. The man scribbled something down on his clipboard, handed a slip of paper to each of them, and opened the elevator doors.
Harry led Hermione into the lift and kept his back to the awestruck crowd. No matter how many times he had come, the public was still in awe to see The-Boy-Who-Lived in person alongside his best friend. The doors slid shut behind them, and only then did Hermione let out the breath she didn't know she was holding. Glancing down at her strip of paper she read the words aloud in her head; Hermione Granger, Mudblood.
As the elevator gave an unsettling lurch, Harry must have seen the way her confidence drooped at the words etched on the slip. He took hold of her hand in a comforting gesture, and she gave him a weak smile as they descended farther into the Ministry.
Before they got to the ground, Hermione turned to Harry and asked, "So, what was all that between you and Ginny about?"
Harry's cheeks tainted with a light blush and he muttered a quick 'nothing' under his breath. Hermione had to laugh at his embarrassment, and he soon joined in with her. Only when the elevator came to a halt did they regain their composures and remember where they were.
Still tightly squeezing her hand, Harry walked out of the elevator and into the main lobby of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. What looked to be hundreds upon hundreds of rows of witches and wizards were lined in the center facing a large stage with a single podium. A few Death Eaters were already present, their solid black dress robes outweighing the formality of the entire room. Hermione recognized a couple, one being the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange. Hermione would recognize that wild mane of dark hair anywhere, her evil smirk radiating as she clapped her hands in excitement. Her left arm where the words "Mudblood" were carved into her skin suddenly began to tingle.
Greyback stood a few feet away, eyeing the array of young girls and sometimes smirking at the way they sank back away from his gaze. The Carrow siblings stood side by side, their sleek back hair pulled back with expressionless faces. Each had a satisfied smile on their face as they took in the hundreds of families pouring in for the Reaping, and Hermione couldn't help but clench the hand not holding Harry's into a tight fist.
As they approached the crowds, a security guard halted them and demanded to see their information slips. Hermione handed hers to the woman, and a moment later with a snap of her fingers, she was yanked away from Harry's grasp and taken to the edge of the room. As she passed the many families huddled together, she caught sight of the Weasley's in the middle accompanied by Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood, two of her closest friends during her years at Hogwarts. Arthur stood holding Molly as tears rolled down her cheeks, and Ron seemed to be in a deep conversation with Ginny who looked as pale as ever, her freckles standing out in the dim lighting. Around them, several other families stayed close in hushed conversations. One in particular grabbed her attention.
The Malfoy's were no more than a few yards away from the Weasley's, and Hermione shook her head to make sure she was seeing things right. The Malfoy's looked unlike anything she had ever seen before. Lucius' skin, while having always been pale, appeared a ghostly white, and his eyes were sunken and shadowed. His usually put together uniform now consisted of a tangle of messy blonde hair and an old pair of plain dress robes. His wife, Narcissa, stood beside him, her skin the same color as his. Her long blonde hair was fixed in a neat bun, her slim arms wrapped around her husband's as if in fear he would suddenly slip away. Draco, her first-ever enemy from school, now stood beside his mother looking like a frightened boy. His normally slicked back blonde hair fell in front of his eyes in gentle waves, his suit much like his father's; a solid black. For a moment, he looked around at the other's around him and caught Ron's eye. Hermione was sure he would scoff at them, or roll his eyes. Instead, he simply nodded in their direction and went back to his whispered conversation with Narcissa.
Hermione was sure she had imagined the gesture from him, but before she had time to think on the matter, she was shoved into line with a group of girls around her age. Now all there was to do was wait. Luckily for her, her racing thoughts were quickly interrupted, as no sooner than ten minutes later, the department was filled to the brim with witches and wizards and a sharp crack brought them all to attention.
Corban Yaxley, current Minister of Magic, approached the podium and looked out among the crowd before pointing his wand to his throat and muttering a quick enchantment. He then began his annual speech.
"Welcome all, to the third annual Hunger Games," he proclaimed, his voice echoing off the walls. "As always, we wish whoever this year's tributes may be the best of luck against our competing twelve countries. It is with this, there comes a new era of the long-awaited rise of witches and wizards alike. This status, however, may only be attained by pure wizard blood, in which we must grant it as such. Here with us today, we have Mudbloods, half-bloods, and blood traitors alike within our midst. From this, we shall choose two tributes to compete for the victory of bringing home the champion title of a victor in the Hunger Games. The history of such games are..."
Yaxley continued on, but Hermione paid him no mind. She blocked out his voice, her heart pounding in her ears. Her breathing shallowed, and her palms began to sweat. A small voice in her head told her she had nothing to worry about, she was one out of thousands of girls to be picked, how on earth could it be her? That was the sensible side talking, but as the minutes dragged on, her nerves began to take over. When Yaxley came to the end of his speech, Hermione was sure the world was spinning.
She watched in terror as a large, glass bowl filled to the brim with small pieces of paper was rolled onto the stage. Inside of it, every name of every witch and wizard in the room who was not a follower of the Death Eaters was awaiting to be drawn. If not drawn, it was another Reaping you survived, and another year to live in the shadows.
Hermione watched with wide eyes as Yaxley approached the bowl. His wand in hand, he gave it a small flick and the contents began to spin. The names were rattled around, the gentle clinking of paper to glass deafening in the silence and anticipation of the room. Bellatrix was practically on the balls of her feet with excitement.
Suddenly, the contents stopped. A single slip rose into the air and fell into Yaxley's wrinkled hand. Slowly opening the paper, he read over the words, a wide and malicious grin coming to his face.
His eyes scanned the crowd before returning to the podium. Slip in hand, he held it up for all to see and read the name aloud.
"Hermione Granger."
Hey y'all!
I hope you enjoyed the second chapter, and be sure to stay on the look out for future updates! I am planning to update every Monday and Wednesday/Thursday, so be sure to stay on the look out for the next steps in Hermione's adventure into what may just be the third annual Hunger Games...
Love you guys, and hope you have a great morning, afternoon, evening, or night!
-Summerwinds