Hermione wasn't sure what had happened next. One moment she was standing in the center of the arena in Draco's arms, silent tears spilling down her face; the next, she awoke to the silence of a room she was not familiar with.
Slowly opening her eyes, she blinked against the bright light spilling in from the tall windows lining the walls. For a moment, Hermione could have sworn she was back in the hospital wing of Hogwarts: another bed stood in place on the far side of the room, although its occupant seemed to have already woken before her. Cabinets of various potions and bandages dotted against its interior. Medicine vials lined her night stand beside the healthy, blue aster Mrs. Weasley had given her on the first day during the Reaping. It seemed like it had happened years ago, rather than no more than a month.
She barely noticed her wand sitting beside it before her eyes locked onto its point directed towards her.
Bolting upright, Hermione fumbled against the sheets to retrieve it. A huge, silly grin broke out across her face. She could practically feel the magic coursing through her in that moment. A fortnight without magic she could easily do, but holding the wand she had hesitantly given away was a breath of fresh air.
Tracing her fingers against its dark wood and fertile designs, a bandage around her wrist caught her eye. Pulling back the sleeve of her hospital gown, Hermione found her previous cuts and bruises all erased or tightly bandaged. The deep wound embedded from their first task was nothing more than a thin pink line now, along with the scratches from the manticore attack.
Their final task had been the most horrible of them all, and just the memory sent a crawling sensation over her skin. Hermione already knew it had left scars she couldn't see and never would, but they would always be with her.
She held back the urge to laugh at that. Hermione Granger, The Brightest Witch of Her Age, Mudblood Friend to the Undesirable No. 1, war hero, and current victor of the Hunger Games.
Hermione looked back to the unkempt bed on the far side of the room and figured it had to be Draco's. She vaguely wondered where he had wandered off to, seeing as his injuries had been much more fatal than a few cuts along his arms. The memory of the dagger lodged into his shoulder was one she would much rather forget, even when the image sent a shiver up her spine.
Turning to face the large oak doors on the far side of the room, Hermione willed the muscles in her leg to pull her out the side of the bed. She took note that no bandage outlined her waist, and the searing ache in her back was gone as if it had never existed in the first place. Still, as she adjusted herself on the hospital bed, she felt the uncomfortable strain of tense muscles. How long had she been asleep?
Before she could answer her own question, the door suddenly burst open. Hermione's eyes flew from the stone floor to the Death Eater standing in the arch way, their silver mask glimmering in the bright sunlight. It was odd to see, and an uneasy feeling crept up into Hermione's stomach as the hooded figure standing in the doorway seemed out of place against the afternoon sun.
"Good, the Mudblood's up," she heard him mutter, his voice muffled by the intricate designed cover. "Let's go."
Frowning at his statement, Hermione didn't move from her place on the hospital bed, her grip tightening around the wand hidden from view behind her back. "Go?"
The Death Eater didn't repeat himself as he stood waiting, his posture stiff and his impassive movements giving nothing away. Her brows still furrowing further, Hermione tried again. "Where's Draco?"
Still, her escort didn't reply.
Knowing she wouldn't get any further answers from him, she carefully stood on her legs and took a step forward. She could practically feel the blood rushing down as she took a few shaky steps, her feet aching from what felt like an open flame underneath the soles of her feet with each tingly sensation that shot up her leg.
Hermione was more than grateful she hadn't managed to embarrass herself further than what was necessary and successfully made it to the door without tripping over her own two feet. She didn't jump either when the Death Eater grasped her arm and dragged her out the door and down a long dim hallway, the lighting and sudden feel to the place much different than what she had felt in the room she had woken in.
Keeping her eyes planted forward, Hermione held back a shiver against the sudden cold sensation of black tile beneath her feet. The farther they walked, the darker it became. What seemed to feel like a long tunnel with rights and lefts here and there, Hermione didn't fight as she was led farther down the twisting hallways, each with less windows than the last.
By the time the Death Eater finally stopped her in front of a large black doorway, some of the strength had finally returned to her legs and she didn't feel like she was leaning more weight than she needed to on the man beside her. Her gut was already telling her whatever she was about to find behind this door wasn't going to be pretty.
The Death Eater lifted his other gloved hand to the door and knocked three times, the sound echoing off the walls and back down from the way they came. It remained silent for a few moments until it swung open, revealing a tall figure with a twisted grin on his face.
Yaxley.
"Ah, I see our sleeping beauty is now awake," he crowed, gesturing for the two of them to come in. Hermione barely kept her eyebrows from shooting up to her forehead at his Muggle reference.
The Death Eater didn't release his grip when he shoved her inside. Hermione didn't have time to send him a glare she didn't try to hide before her attention was caught from the rest of the room. With a large open ceiling and a roaring fireplace on the far side of the room, she scanned over a beautifully designed desk with a couple of comfortable chairs in front of it, the intricate snakes carved into its legs, and the fine details of green speckled around the room in various displays of decor and "awards". Portraits hung on the dark walls that circled around to the back of a throne-like chair, each painting scoffing down at her with a scowl or an expression like they had just smelled rotten meat. The Death Eater pushed her into one of the two blood red chairs as Yaxley came up beside her.
"Can I get you anything for the time being, Miss Granger?" he asked, circling his desk and pulling out a tray of sweets Hermione immediately recognized as Turkish delights. She almost missed rolling her eyes at the mock sweetness of his voice.
"I'd assumed you'd be starving by now," he said again, taking a seat in the chair and staring directly into what felt like her soul.
"Thank you, but I'm really not hungry," Hermione replied shortly, though the ill-timed grumble of her stomach told a different story. Yaxley didn't hide his widening smirk and pushed the tray of sweets in front of her. She didn't move a muscle and kept her gaze locked on his.
The Minister tore his eyes away from hers and looked up to the Death Eater. With a wave of his hand, he immediately released his hold on her arm and headed towards the door. Hermione wasn't aware how hard he had gripped her shoulder until she felt the sudden release of her skin sink back with a satisfying sting.
"I haven't heard anything lately, but I must know, is it still Miss Granger, or is it now Mrs. Weasley?" he questioned, slightly tilting his head to the side like a school girl listening to gossip. "I'd expect to have heard wedding bells by now."
Hermione barely shook her head and darted her eyes down to the stack of papers off to the side, watching as a quill scratched across the parchment with neat and organized lines before filing itself away into one of the cabinets. Yaxley kept his eyes on her, and she could almost feel his stare smoldering the side of her face. She was mildly surprised her skin hadn't melted off by now.
"You seemed to have put on quite the show back there," Yaxley stated as if they were talking about the weather. "You didn't even hesitate to kill that poor girl, did you? I must say, I along with my colleagues were rather surprised that the Brightest Witch of Her Age really had it in her."
Hermione didn't respond, but only dug her nails into the palm of her hand as they clenched into fists. She kept her face impassive and her glare cold turning back to face him. Yaxley's smirk only deepened, and she could feel her hatred for the man sitting in front of her bubbling towards the surface.
"This is the first year we've had two tributes from the same country make it out of the Games alive. This must be a high honor for you."
"Honor isn't really what I'd call it." she finally spoke, quirking an eyebrow in his direction.
"No?" Yaxley exclaimed as though surprised. "Miss Granger, you've survived the Hunger Games. I'd consider that a high enough priority for some sort of reward; don't you? After all I can't say I'd ever expect someone like you of all people to make it out of there alive."
"And why's that, Minister?" Hermione held back the urge to spit her last word.
Instead of answering, Yaxley only studied her face as if trying to crack a code, a sort of puzzle that he was missing a piece to. It made her stomach churn with unease, but she didn't move from her spot, nor did she fidget in her chair.
"I can say I'm rather surprised at your course of strategy Miss Granger," the Minister claimed, folding his hands in front of him and leaning forward in his chair. "We think of this tournament as a way to give you a chance to take down your enemies and put a stop to them before they go too far. It seems you did quite the opposite, if I may say so myself."
Hermione could feel her hands shaking beneath the desk and she had bitten the inside of her cheek from making some sort of snappy remark. She was regretting leaving her wand on her bed, which was a stupid mistake from the start. No doubt whatever she did, there would be a group of Death Eaters to drag her away in less than a minute.
"You were put into the Games with the one person you hate most," Yaxley began again when no remark from her came. "So I must ask: why -"
"How do you know?"
Taken aback by her question, Yaxley cut himself short. "Excuse me?"
"How do you know Draco Malfoy is the one person I truly hate?" she questioned again, her anger and confidence rising with each thump of her heart she could hear rapidly beating and threatening to break out of her chest at any second.
Yaxley smirked again and was about to open his mouth to answer, but Hermione beat him to it.
"You assume I kept him alive for the sake of keeping him around. That it was part of my Gryffindor pride that I couldn't kill anyone, especially not the one person you think I so call "hate so much." You all thought I would kill him or he would kill me and the whole world would know how the two tributes from Britain turned on each other simply because they couldn't stand to even be in the same arena."
"Then you continue to assume that despite all he's been through from that wretched game, you think he hasn't changed in the slightest, when you are the ones who don't know how to accept someone might be in the slightest different from you and you can't accept that as it is. You think I hate him with a dying passion to the extent I would kill him in his sleep and watch from the side as you throw him aside like every other tribute that's been in there! You think I hate him more than the one you called the Dark Lord, and -"
A stinging sensation exploded across her cheek as her face was whipped to the side, her eyes widening as her hand slowly came up to touch her cheek. It was almost hot to the touch as she felt a dribble of blood run down from her split lip to the bottom of her chin.
Yaxley was standing from his seat and retracting his hand back, his face stone-cold while a rushing color of red filled his cheeks and exploded across the rest of his face. His smirk was gone and his lips were pulled back into a vicious snarl. She couldn't help but have it remind her of a rabid dog; all that he needed was a set of sharp teeth and a furry nose and he would be set.
"How dare you speak his name." Yaxley hissed between clenched teeth, his knuckles whitening from rage against the dark wooden desk. "It's already bad enough that Mudbloods like you still walk around the Wizarding World like you're a part of it. Like you deserve the so-called magic you were given. I would tread lightly from now on, unless you'd like to see what the real power of the Dark Lord looked like and can do."
Hermione could feel the tears welling up behind her eyes, but she didn't dare let them fall in front of him. Instead, making sure to keep it quiet, she took a steadying, shuddering breath and turned back to face him, completely ignoring the splotches of red down the front of her hospital dress.
"You fought very hard in those games, Miss Granger," Yaxley continued, his voice low and chilling to the bone as he continued to glower down at her from behind his desk. "You impressed many and inspired those people you surround yourself with that you call friends. You managed to survive nearly a month in a wilderness you had no knowledge of keeping you and that boy alive. But I must tell you now, Miss Granger, that they were games. And I'll ask you this once now: should you continue this act of trying to spark a fire that is already dead with Dumbledore and the rest of those blood traitors now buried in the dirt because you thought you could fight for something that has already been lost, are you ready to see what a real war looks like?"
Hermione swallowed hard and took a moment to find her voice. When she spoke, she was surprised to find her voice didn't break. "Haven't I already?"
"Miss Granger, that was nothing compared to what I am willing to bring to the Wizarding World." Yaxley noted, finally returning to his seat in his chair. "Now if I were you, I'd get that lip patched up before the press arrives. It's not everyday the Brightest Mudblood gets the spotlight."
Hermione clenched her teeth as she stood from her chair, her lips barely holding back a tremble as she turned for the door. Before she could touch the handle, Yaxley called after her.
"Oh, and Miss Granger!"
She didn't turn to face him.
"I believe we've had a rather private conversation today. Do keep this strictly between us, and if not for the sake of yourself, then for the sake of your loved ones. It would be a shame to waste so much spilled magical blood because one girl didn't know how to keep her mouth shut. Keep that in mind if you will."
The brunette witch by the door stiffened, her posture suddenly giving away the emotions churning inside her stomach. Her hand on the door knob had started to shake as she twisted it open, yanking it aside and almost toppling into her escort on the other side. She didn't have to see their face to know her guard had been switched out during her meeting with Yaxley as the stench of blood and rotting flesh completely surrounded her nose.
She held back a gag as the door swung shut behind her with a loud bang. The hallway remained still and quiet as if holding its breath. But Hermione didn't move or try to escape from Greyback's hold. He pulled on her arm and fell into step beside her down the corridors, and she could practically feel his smirk radiating through his simple silver mask, this time only a few lines to cover his mouth and thin slits for the eyes. Nonetheless, there wasn't much coverage for the smell of death on his breath.
That with his eyes roaming over her body, she felt like she was about to release the bile bubbling in her throat. Her eyes were watering, from tears or the sting of the slap she didn't know. Her cheek still burned with Yaxley's hand print across the side of her face with a fresh coat of blood encasing the cut in her lip.
Whoever was waiting for her in what she assumed was the small hospital wing in the Ministry was in for a real treat.
With a rush of relief at seeing the entrance to her and Draco's room again, and the shadows of the afternoon sun falling over the smooth stone walls, Hermione tried to wriggle her arm away from Greyback's. The werewolf held firm and chuckled darkly beneath the mask. He dipped his head and whispered something in her ear, though she could only pick up the words "feisty" and "delicious Mudblood dinner".
Her restraint of holding back the vomit was wearing thin.
Just as his silver masked pressed against her forehead and his arm slipped around her waist, Hermione's heart ready to explode out of her chest, her head whipped to face the doorway as it swung open and revealed a woman in a pair of dark dress robes standing tall with a scowl on her face.
It took a moment for her to recognize her face, but when Hermione's eyes caught the glint of her platinum blonde hair shimmering against the golden rays of sunlight pouring into the hallway, she didn't think she had ever been so thankful to see Narcissa Malfoy in her life.
"Narcissa." Greyback greeted with dripping mockery in his voice. He hadn't released his hold from around her waist and only held it firm when Hermione continued to push him away. The blonde woman wasn't impressed and her pale lips pulled back into the sneer Hermione could only label as the one belonging especially to the Malfoy's seeing as their son had clearly mastered it.
"Fenrir," Narcissa started. "I trust you're here to bring the victor back to her chambers."
"Wouldn't mind getting a bite or two first," he mumbled in reply, turning his mask away from Narcissa and back towards the witch in his arms. "It'd be such a shame not to -"
"And who, might I ask, gave you permission to harm one of the victors? As far as I've understood for the last two years, the victors are to be left alone for the remainder of their time at the Ministry before being released back into the public." Narcissa scolded Greyback as if she were talking to a measly child. He certainly didn't appreciate the comment and a low growl filled the hallway.
"And why should I take orders from blood-traitorous scum like you?" Greyback snarled.
"It might interest you to know that I find more ways than one to get what I want," Narcissa stated almost matter-of-factly. "Should that mean getting rid of you, I'll certainly have no objections in the way of it."
Greyback didn't reply and a deafening silence filled the hallway. Hermione took his sudden surprise at Narcissa's statement in her favor and dug her elbow as hard as she could into his chest. Greyback released a grunt of pain and loosened his hold on her, giving her the window she was looking for. Quickly ducking out from underneath his hold, Hermione swung her foot around and, just as an extra measure, kicked him in between the legs, sending him nearly tumbling to the ground. Greyback let out the equivalent of a mouse squeak as Hermione rounded over to Narcissa's side. She couldn't help but notice her shoulders loosen ever so slightly, but her cold and unmoving gaze remained locked on the heaving Greyback.
"You'll...you'll get what's coming to you, Malfoy," he gasped practically spitting her name. "You...and the rest of those...traitors...and Mudbloods -"
"Thank you for your services today, Fenrir, but if you'll excuse me now, I must have a word with Miss Granger," Narcissa interrupted, waving her hand towards him like Yaxley had done with her first escort. "I believe she and I have a few matters to discuss that do not concern the likes of you. Besides, I'm sure you have plenty of other matters to attend to that the Minister is just so very eager to hand out to the first desperate soldier that walks into his office."
Greyback snarled again and turned away, though Hermione caught a few of his words as he continued down the corridor. All of them consisted of things she would never dare say in front of Mrs. Weasley or her mother.
Hermione watched him go until he disappeared around one of the many corners, and it was only then that she felt her heart cease its rapid rounds. She took a daring glance at the Malfoy standing beside her to find Narcissa already gazing at her with a mixture of relief, confusion and worry. Her silver eyes danced as a small smile pulled at the corner of her lips, the look new and almost startling for Hermione.
"Come, Miss Granger," she exclaimed, gesturing for Hermione to follow her back inside. "We have much to discuss."
Hello my fellow Potterheads!
I hope you enjoyed this bit of the story, and be sure to keep a look out for the next upcoming update! Speaking of which, important announcement, there will be a short one-shot sequel to "The Reaping" which will be released after this fic is complete, which will dive more into Draco and Hermione's relationship after the Games...*cough cough*
Anywho, and as always, I hope you fellow Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and Slytherins have a magical morning, afternoon, evening, or night!
-Summerwinds