Hermione didn't sleep that night. She couldn't.

Disturbing dreams haunted her each time she closed her eyes, her mind wouldn't ease, and the rattling sound of the London subway outside her window kept her alert and awake. While she had never minded staying at the Leaky Cauldron, it felt different this time, most likely because Death Eaters were right outside patrolling her and Draco's door. Hermione took a deep breath and replayed yesterday's events in her head for what felt like the hundredth time that night.

After Narcissa had left, she and Draco had been privately escorted back to the floo network. Neither had looked at the other, keeping their eyes trained forward as they passed the crowds of people. She remembered taking the quickest glance over and had seen the Weasley's for the faintest of seconds, but before she had had the chance to yell across the room, she had been grabbed by the arm and shoved into the fireplace. Before she knew it, she had landed in the lobby of the Leaky Cauldron.

Both she and Draco were taken to their rooms. Surprisingly, everything had already been packed and set for the trip to Bulgaria, the main location of the training center. Hermione suspected the Death Eaters wanted a real show this year on account their two tributes had been the two most intelligent students of their year and would put up a good fight. She hadn't dwelled on the thought for long after changing into comfortable pajamas and climbing into bed in the position she lay in now.

Hermione rubbed her tired eyes and flipped onto her back, staring up at the rotted ceiling. Outside her room, she could hear the creaking footsteps of her guard who no doubt was either bored or annoyed with the lack of fight the two had put up on being locked in their rooms.

She finally closed her eyes again, trying to ease away the memories. Determined to try and get some comfort in sleep, it felt all too soon before a loud banging roused her into alertness.

"You've got ten minutes, Mudblood!" a loud voice boomed from the other side of her door.

Hermione swept her legs over the bed and stood, stretching her arms high above her head and letting out a long sigh. Not even bothering with the bags under her eyes, she brushed her unusually flat hair into a simple bun before turning to the large bag sitting on the desk chair.

Quickly rummaging through it, Hermione grabbed a provided uniform that consisted of tight black pants, a long-sleeved burgundy top and leather shoes. She threw on the clothes and picked up the last of her things, stowing an extra book from the room into the bottom of her bag. She made sure to keep the aster flower Mrs. Weasley had given her before the Reaping and carefully placed it into her pocket. Throwing her packed bag over her shoulder, she headed for the door.

Just as she reached for the handle, the door burst open. Hermione came face to face with her escort from the day before who she now recognized to be Antonin Dolohov. He scoffed down at her and pulled out his wand, pointing it behind her back and nudging forward into the hallway.

She was led back down the stairs to the dimly lit lobby where at least a dozen other Death Eaters were impatiently waiting, each wearing a decorated silver mask. The only face apparent to her was Draco's and for a moment she didn't recognize him. Outside of his school uniform and black suits, she had never seen him in anything else. Now he stood at the side, hair a mess and face as pale as ever, his tall figure dressed in the same attire as she was. Heavy bags undercoated his silver eyes which were fixed on the wall in front of him and not daring to look at the others around him.

Dolohov poked her in the back as she realized she had paused halfway down the steps to take in the scene before her. Continuing down, she stopped at the bottom of the stairs as he strode off to speak with the group of Death Eaters.

Hermione stood near the corner looking at the dust covered bar. Memories of when she, Harry, and Ron would sit drinking butter beers and telling each other stories from their summers flooded into her head, and she couldn't help the small smile that cracked her lips.

Her eyes continued to travel over the room until they landed on Draco. He was now staring at the floor, his eyes trained on something that wasn't there. He seemed to be lost in thought.

Narcissa's words echoed inside her head as she watched him. Draco has only ever lived by magic, and now that he's a part of this tournament to the death, I fear he won't last a day without any given guidance.

Hermione took a tentative step forward, not fully knowing what to say. What were you supposed to say to the boy who had been your enemy, called you disguisting slurs, and tried to make your life miserable all throughout school?

Hermione took a breath and whispered, "Are you nervous?"

Draco's head shot up, shock sketched over his pale features. Apparently he had not expected anyone to talk to him, nonetheless ask how he was doing. He continued to stare at her for a few moments before returning his gaze back to the floor.

"Fine," he quietly replied back. "But what's it to you Granger?"

"Just asking in spite of being your partner," Hermione responded calmly. "We might as well start on the right track if we don't plan on hurling knives at each other or trying to strangle one another in our sleep."

Draco turned his silver eyes back on her and leaned against the wall, arms crossing over his chest. For a moment she thought she saw the spark of the ferret-like boy she had known throughout school with his relaxed demeanor and easy posture. Hermione was ready for an insult but was surprised when he asked, "Who says I won't do either?"

She shrugged. "Just a hunch, Malfoy -" Their conversation was abruptly put on hold as the flames in the fireplace burst into green and Fenrir Greyback followed by two others stepped into the foyer. His wild eyes scanned the room until they landed on the two tributes standing alone in the far corner. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Draco tense immediately and stand completely upright.

She suddenly remembered when they had been taken to Malfoy Manor and Draco was forced to try and identify Harry. Even then, she had seen the fear he held of just being in the same room as his fellow Death Eaters, especially Greyback. He did well at hiding his fear now, but Hermione could see the color continue to drain from his face as a sinful smirk appeared on Greyback's face, revealing a sharp canine glistening red.

He sauntered forward, his eyes scanning Hermione up and down. She scrunched her nose as the stench of blood seemed to radiate off him in waves. Resisting the urge to bring her hand up and slap that stupid, smug look off his face, Hermione inhaled sharply as he placed a hand on her shoulder, his curved claws digging into her back as he led her toward the fireplace. Beside her, the two Death Eaters who had come in with Greyback were leading Draco by the arms. Before she could take another step forward, Greyback leaned over to her ear and murmured, "I'm hoping you survive these games, Mudblood. Bella promised I could have a bite or two when you get back."

At that, Hermione tried to wrench herself free from his hold only to have her shirt rip. Greyback let out a low laugh followed by the other Death Eaters in the room. He pushed her forward and Hermione all but fell into the bag of floo powder. She took a handful and stepped into the fireplace moving around to make room for Draco. Turning her attention to the scruffy werewolf in front of her, she didn't dare show a sign of fear. "Where's the location?" she asked Greyback coldly.

"Bulgarian Tribute Training Center, darling," he crooned, a smirk still apparent on his blood soaked features. Hermione imagined a burning hole searing through his head as she sent him a daggered glare.

"Bulgarian Training Center!" she yelled loud and clear. Throwing down the floo powder, she once again held the sensation of being sucked through a tube, green flames engulfing her vision. Gripping the sleeve of Draco's shirt tightly, she squeezed her eyes shut as the world seemed to speed up around them. Hermione had never internationally flooed before, and she made a mental note never to do so again.

Before she knew it, her feet touched the ground and the world stopped spinning. Opening her eyes, Hermione took a few deep breaths to settle her racing heartbeat.

"You can let go now, Granger," Draco drawled from beside her. Hermione quickly released him and stepped out of the fireplace, dusting herself off and taking in her surroundings. She and Draco stood awestruck for a moment taking in the training center.

The large room was unlike anything Hermione had ever seen. The walls were lined with dark wood, leading up to a dome like ceiling where, much like Hogwarts, was enchanted to look like the sky. At the moment, gray storm clouds rumbled overhead, the occasional lightning strike accompanying the low cracks of thunder. Guard towers were spaced evenly among the sides, each occupied by Death Eaters ready to strike any one of the tributes who stepped out of line. Torches flickering an orangish yellow danced along the walls beside twenty four boarded windows. An enormous gymnasium was laid out before them, filled with various weapons and obstacle courses. At least ten of the tributes were already gathered near the center, each pairing with matching uniforms.

A squat goblin with a hooked nose and piece of parchment in hand approached the two. "Hermione Jean Granger and Draco Lucius Malfoy?" he squeaked, his raggedy voice matching his stature.

Hermione nodded in confirmation. The goblin took a quill from his pocket and quickly scribbled something onto his parchment. He suddenly held his hand out to them and took a deep breath.

"By federal order of the British Ministry of Magic, and under the jurisdiction of the Treaty of Treason in accordance with the Hunger Games, wands are not permitted within the Games and we ask you to hand them over now. Tributes found with wands within the arena will be immediately terminated."

Hermione's eyes widened as she pulled her wand out of her pocket. Turning it a few times in hand, she slowly handed it over to the goblin who impatiently began to tap his foot. The moment the smooth wood was ripped from her fingertips, she felt a wave of her magic run through her, almost sparking her veins of its life before settling back to her racing heart beat. She looked over to see Draco do the same with his wand before finally handing it over.

"I'll now take your bags, and please head on forward to the rest of the group," the goblin stated, wobbling slightly at the sudden weight the bags added. "Training will begin momentarily. As always, you'll have one week of preparation time before the Games begin. May the odds be ever in your favor, tributes."

Hermione watched the goblin go before turning towards Draco. He looked paralyzed to his spot.

"Malfoy?" she asked cautiously. That seemed to snap him out of his daze and he looked over at her. His wall had once again come up, shielding off his real thoughts and emotions. Hermione figured he had a good amount of practice on the matter. "Are you ready?"

He simply nodded and began walking towards the center, Hermione close behind him.

As they approached the tributes, she took note of the many faces in the crowd, thankfully none of which she recognized. Hermione took in the many stations around her, each with their own unique lesson. One in particular caught her eye.

Archery.

She had always been fond of a bow and arrow, especially since her father had taught her how to use one from a young age. Every spring, they had gone out to hunt in the Forest of Dean, and since neither of them were fond of guns, they had settled for a simple yet sturdy weapon. They had hunted, or more or less waited, for hours on end to get a good kill. If they did, or if nothing came around, they had always done a quick camping trip surviving off of the wild berries, mushrooms, and fish from the creek. She remembered their last trip as being the best one yet; the one before he forgot he even had a daughter.

Hermione was snapped away from the memories of hunting with her father when a tall, athletic woman took to the center. Her long dark robes and sleek black hair reminded her vaguely of Professor Snape, but she quickly dismissed the thought before she burst into a fit of laughter.

The woman introduced herself as Atala, the appointed head trainer for the Hunger Games. Much like her friend, Viktor Krum, she had a thick Bulgarian accent, and at times Hermione wasn't sure if she was speaking or just making off grunting noises. Nonetheless, Hermione listened intently as she began to explain the daily scheduling of training, the different stations, the freedom to move from area to area, but above all, the rule that tributes were not to engage in combative exercise; she added that could wait for the arena with a wicked smirk.

Hermione felt a chill run up her spine as Atala dismissed them. Giving a quick glance back to the other tributes, she hesitantly approached Draco. He seemed as lost and confused as she had been the first day trying to find Platform 9 ¾.

"Malfoy," she stated, grabbing his attention. "What would you like to start on first?"

He didn't respond, instead eyed her suspiciously. "What do you mean, Granger?"

Letting out a long sigh, Hermione brushed the hair out of her eyes and asked, "What station would you like to start at first?"

"You're not going to help me," Draco said flatly. Hermione didn't move from where she was as he stared down at her. "I don't need help from that bushy brain of yours, Granger."

She continued to stare back at him, her gaze stern and determined. She had made a promise to Narcissa, and him being stubborn certainly wasn't going to break that. She just needed time.

Shaking her head, she mumbled a quick "fine" and turned on her heel, heading straight for the archery range.

Behind her, she heard Draco scoff and let out a loud huff before finally walking away. Hermione turned her attention to the array of bows and arrows before her. Her eyes quickly scanned over the various selections, but she found herself settling on a simple silver bow. Picking up a sheath of arrows along the way, Hermione took her place in front of the targets.

While it was disturbing to see the target was in the shape of a person, she was more concerned that the bullseye was right in the middle of the chest, head, and throat. Not wanting to dwell too much on the fact, Hermione put her arrow into place and pulled it back. It felt so natural in the position she was in; the bow in hand, the arrow feather just brushing her cheek, the holding of her breath. Closing her eyes for a fraction of a second, she released the arrow and watched as it sank itself directly into the head of the target.

With a small grin, Hermione cocked another arrow into place and pulled back.

Bullseye to the chest.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled back one more time, focusing directly into the middle of the two targets, right at the throat.

Releasing the arrow once more, she grinned as it sank itself into the throat. The idea of the target actually being made of flesh and bone wasn't something she was keen on pondering.

Behind her, a soft applause arose. Hermione whipped around to see the small figure of Gabrielle Delacour with a huge grin on her face clapping at Hermione's performance.

"Zat was amazing, Miz Granger!" she squealed, beaming up at her. Hermione grinned back at her before her smile fell in horror as she took in what she was wearing.

Much like her own outfit, Gabrielle was dressed in white tights and a blue tunic, her silvery-blonde hair much like her older sisters' pulled back into a tight braid. She sat at the station behind her, which consisted of defining which berries were good and poisonous to eat.

"O-Oh, um, thank you," Hermione stuttered, her throat suddenly going completely dry. "Erm, it was Gabrielle, wasn't it?"

"Oui, Miz Granger," Gabrielle replied, her eyes shining a beautiful blue. "My sister Fluer has talked so very well of you, as I believe you two met at 'ogwarts, yes? I know you will do fantastic in ze Games, and I do weesh you ze best of luck!"

Hermione only nodded as the girl bounced on her toes, her wide grin still adorning her pristine features. From only a flicker in her eyes, Hermione could see the young girl was merely putting up a front. Behind her wide smile and sparkling eyes, she was frightened for her very life, and that twinkle of hope shown upon seeing another familiar face in the crowd.

Hermione's eyes began to well with tears as it dawned on her why she was here, even when it was so obvious before.

Gabrielle had been drawn from the Reaping.

Her heart plummeted as she watched the young girl turn back to her work of studying the array of plants in front of her. Hermione dropped the bow and covered her mouth with her hand, willing the tears not to spill from her cheeks.

Taking deep gulps of air and blinking back the tears, Hermione bent down and picked up her bow, placed it back on the rack, and headed back to the center looking for the one person she really had no desire to see, but anything to distract her from the younger sister of her good friend Fleur was better than nothing.

Draco was at the farthest station from her, focusing on how to build a fire. From where she was, she could tell he was struggling. Immensely. Shaking her head and letting out a long sigh, Hermione wiped her cheeks for any stray tears, hoping to Merlin none of the other tributes had seen, and made her way over.

When she arrived, Draco seemed to be in no better mood. His determined yet frustrated gaze was focused on rubbing two sticks together trying to create a friction between the mountain of wood he had created. He paid her no attention until she finally spoke.

"Might I offer a suggestion?" Hermione asked, sitting crossed legged across from him. Draco released an aggravated sigh and motioned for her to take over, running a hand through his hair.

"You've got the main set up right," she started, adjusting a couple pieces of wood. "But to start it, try and grab a few pieces of dry grass or leaves, and rub in a faster back and forth motion."

"Already tried that, Granger," Draco hissed through clenched teeth letting some of his aggravation seep through. "And I already told you before that I don't need help from a know-it-all."

She ignored his annoyance and held her tongue to bite back by refraining from calling him a needy ferret. Instead, she focused on the work before her. Picking up a chunk of dead grass, Hermione evenly placed it over the top. She grabbed his stick and quickly rubbed it back and forth starting from the top and working her way down. As a thin line of smoke appeared, she bent forward and gently blew on it, creating an array of sparks. In a matter of seconds, a small fire was crackling in front of them.

Hermione looked up to see Draco in shock. His mouth was slightly parted as he stared at the fire. "How...how did you do that?"

"It's an old trick my dad taught me," Hermione said nonchalantly.

"You learned these tricks from him?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "But he's a Mud-Muggle." Draco quickly corrected his word and averted his gaze back to the growing fire.

Not wanting to make him uncomfortable by acknowledging the fact he hadn't adressed her father as a Mudblood, Hermione simply nodded and replied, "Such a tone of surprise? Muggles can't do magic in the sense that it's in their blood. But they can do it in the sense that it's in their mind."

Draco's brow furrowed as he looked back up at her in confusion. Hermione cracked a small grin and continued. "My dad is a Muggle, but he taught me a lot of things I wouldn't have been able to learn at Hogwarts. Same with my mum."

"Like what?" Draco questioned skeptically.

"Like how to shoot a bow and arrow," Hermione commented. "Or how to make a fire without magic. Or how to know which berries you can eat and which will kill you in less than a minute."

Draco ran a hand through his hair again. "So you know how to survive without a wand?"

"I know how to possibly make it through at least one trial of the Games if that's what you're asking," Hermione joked, picking up one of the sticks and adjusting the wood, sending orange bursts of ash into the air. She looked up to meet his skeptic gaze before he averted it to one of the other stations. She followed his stare over to where the two Albanian tributes were indulged in a rough one-on-one combat with one another, only stopping from trying to beat the other with spears when one of the security officers cut in to break them apart. A few stations over, the Bulgarian and Norwegian tributes had taken their place at ax throwing. To Hermione's shock, one of the weapons thrown went so far lodged into the back of the target it quickly had to be removed by a sharp pull of magic. She could have sworn she heard Draco audibly gulp across from her.

Hermione didn't know how to word her next statement, so she told him what she had told Narcissa. "I can help you survive."

Draco slowly turned back to her as she looked away from the stations and back to the fire, his brow furrowed. He took a breath to say something but ended up shutting his mouth again.

"The only condition I would have is that you don't try to murder me the first chance you get," Hermione stated carefully. "In other words, if I help you survive the Games, we'd call for a truce, and...maybe even put the past behind us."

Draco didn't look at her right away as he seemed to be lost in thought. The two sat in silence for a moment as the tributes around them continued to train; the sound of swords clashing, arrows flying, and victory yells were blocked out as she extended her hand out to him.

Draco studied it for a moment, as if waiting to see if she would recoil back or slap him like she had done in their third year. Instead, she held it steady, her chestnut eyes boring into his own silver ones. Carefully and slowly, he took it and gave it a gentle shake.

Hermione gave him a gentle smile which he returned with an uncomfortable grin. Draco continued to stare into the fire even as she rose from her seat to go in search of the next lesson of their training. Hermione knew it would take a while for him to warm up and take down his wall, or even to call their truce a real one for sure. However, she was determined to keep her word to Narcissa and keep her son safe; even if it meant putting the past behind them.

Hey my fellow Potterheads! I hope you enjoyed this weeks second update on Hermione's adventure into the Hunger Games, now side by side with the one and only Draco Malfoy!

***Just a quick heads up, I will be heading out of town in the coming week, so next week's updates might be a little off, but I will get out the next chapter for you guys as soon as I can!***

Anyways, and as always to you lovely readers out there, I hope you have a marvelous morning, afternoon, evening, or night!

-Summerwinds