A/N: Morning of the Reaping Day. :)
"And now the time has come to slect our tributes..."
-Effie Trinket
*As mentioned, Harry Potter and The Hunger Games belong to J.K. Rowling and Suzanne Collins.
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"Is this real?" said Hermione incredulously. "Wait, did you steal this?"
"Always the tone of surprise . . . and accusement." said Ron, rolling his eyes.
"You mean accusation." said Hermione as she took the loaf of bread from him and split it open. She held it under her nose and gave it an appreciative sniff followed by delicate sigh.
"That old bloke who started working in the Leaky Caldron last week gave it to me." continued Ron. "The whole loaf for the rabbit I caught with my snare! Must've felt sorry for us, even wished us luck."
Hermione took out a wrapping filled with butter. "That was generous of him. The most I expected back were perhaps two slices." She smeared a portion of the butter on one half of the bread and passed it to Ron.
"Happy Hunger Games, 'Mione." He took a large bite off the bread. " And may the odds be ever," he said with his mouth full, "in your favor."
Hermione shook her head at Ron's accent. "You say it as perfectly wretched as that Skeeter woman." She took a small bite from her bread and chewed slowly, trying to savor every mouthful.
"Where to next?" said Ron, his mouth still stuffed.
"Just Madam Malkin's. I said I would deliver her dresses to some of the girls at school." said Hermione. "And stop speaking with your mouth food, Ronald."
The two continued down the crowded streets of Hogsmeade. Today was one of the days where the village was most full of wizards and witches from all over District 12. From the outskirts, to here at the very core. Everyone bustled about, buying new outfits and gifts, having a few drinks at The Hog's Head, or having spent a few nights at the Leaky Cauldron.
Today was Reaping Day.
Which meant that today at two o'clock, two Hogwarts students would be chosen to leave to the Capitol.
They would leave, and most likely not come back.
For a Hogwarts student, and their parents as well, it was the most horrid, nerve-wracking, and dreaded day of the year.
This year, Hermione's name was written on thirty-three pieces of parchment. Thirty-three slips with Hermione's name scrawled on them. With each extra slip Hermione earned more money or meals. At her age, fifteen slips would have been reasonable. But the main reason Hermione had double the amount than what she should was Lye.
Lye had only one piece of parchment with her name written on. Just one among thousands. When Hermione was a first year, her name had been entered three times instead of just once. Every year she worked hard to keep her grades on top, while also working to feed her sister. Yes, it increased her own chances of being chosen, but if it meant less of a chance for Lye, than it was all worth it to her.
Ron had it worse. He had triple of what he should have. Forty-five slips. Forty-five Ronald Weasley's would be in the Reaping Bowl today, and this fact had haunted Hermione since Ron had told her.
But if all went well, then Hermione would be celebrating the night with her friends and her sister, thankful for another year they have been spared.
Ron sucked the butter from his sticky fingers and then tried to inconspicuously wipe them clean on his shirt (although Hermione noticed), before opening the door to Madam Malkin's shop. They stepped inside into the warmth, noticing how some of the most fortunate in the district had come this day to buy the most elegant robes Madam Malkin could offer.
Hermione spotted her quickly enough, but she didn't dare approach her just yet. She was speaking to Narcissa Malfoy, who was accompanied by another woman. She was tall and slim, and extraordinarily beautiful. Lady Zabini, perhaps? Hermione was in a hurry to get back to the castle, but she pretended she was still looking for Madam Malkin. Normally she wouldn't have been bothered by any filthy looks or disrespect from the two pureblood women, but since she was accompanied by Ron, she figured he would have a row with Mrs. Malfoy if she started anything. That would be the one thing she didn't need right now, and simply wanted to avoid the unnecessary.
It didn't matter, though. Just a minute after Hermione had spotted the women, they both turned on their heels and strode out the shop. Madam Malkin was looking flustered as she went back behind her desk and started shuffling through papers of new orders.
"Madam Malkin," said Hermione as she approached her.
She glanced up. "Oh, Hermione, thank goodness. I've had my hands full here since morning. Now just wait a moment while I bring you the packages."
She hurried off to the back of her storage room. Ron leaned against the counter and thrummed his fingers on the surface.
"Why are you doing this, again?" he asked.
Hermione shrugged. "Because I thought she might need help."
"Mmm," hummed Ron, though now Hermione saw he was looking away, focusing on something - or someone - else in the shop.
She looked over her shoulder, following Ron's gaze and her eyes landed Lavender Brown, who was holding a frilly pink dress against her chest and giggling with her best friend, Parvati Patil. Lavender glanced to the side and caught Ron's eye. She giggled even harder and her cheeks were colored pink.
Hermione turned away, annoyance eating her up. It wasn't that she hated Lavender - granted, she'd never been too fond of her - but it always irritated her to see any moments such as these exchanged between her and Ron. She knew Lavender fancied Ron, and she may be a bit overly hyper and bubbly, but she was pretty enough. What if Ron would start becoming attracted to her?
It was then Madam Malkin returned carrying several packages, each containing a delicate, expensive dress. Ron stepped aside to let her through and she placed the pile on the counter.
"Here we are now," she said taking out a list. She explained to Hermione the different orders and who they were for. Most of them were from Slytherin and a handful from Ravenclaw. She told her that one girl from each house would be waiting outside their common rooms to retrieve the packages. She stacked more than half the packages in Ron's arms, and the rest in Hermione's. She thanked Hermione for the favor and proceeded to helping another of her customers.
"Would you like me to wait for you?" asked Hermione.
"Oh, no, no." said Madam Malkin, "You go on ahead, I'm almost finished here. Go back to the castle. I'll be heading there shortly to see Minerva."
Hermione nodded and tried to carefully open the door without dropping any of the packages. She would have asked Ron for help, but Lavender had stolen his attention again.
"Hi, Ron," said Lavender, from all the way at the back of the store.
Ron glanced back. "Hi . . . ." he seemed a bit perplexed by Lavender's recent friendly gestures.
Hermione pushed herself out of the shop, kicking the door open. Ron turned when he heard the chiming of the bells above the doorframe, and almost got slammed in the face when the door swung back. Hermione continued walking without waiting for Ron, and Lavender's laugh began to fade away.
She walked in quick strides, anxious to get back to the castle. She wanted to have enough time to meet with Lye after the deliveries. She didn't pause once to give Ron a chance to catch up. By the time he did, Hermione was already in the castle handing over the dresses to a fifth year from Ravenclaw.
"Would it have killed you to wait?" Ron asked.
Hermione turned towards the next corridor. "I'm in a bit of a hurry, Ron."
"Who are these for? Hufflepuffs?" he asked gesturing to the pile he carried.
"Slytherins. All of them, so after this we're done." said Hermione, heading to the direction of the dungeons.
"Left the best for last," Ron muttered.
Hermione ignored him, and took out the parchment with the list of names. As she approached what would be the outside of the Slytherin common room, a dark-haired beauty was ascending the stairs.
Astoria Greengrass rose to the top and did not bother to greet them. She held several pouches that jingled with pounds of Galleons. Hermione took the boxes from Ron, giving him the list. She stacked them in order, alphabetically and by year, and placed them on the ground. She took the small pouches from Astoria and Ron handed her back the list so she could check everyone off. As she checked off Astoria's name she placed her package on top.
"Pretty dress," said Ron suddenly, with a hint of a sneer in his voice.
Hermione noticed that Ron was glaring at Astoria, who was indeed wearing a very pretty dress. It was a pale lilac, and it must've cost what would keep Hermione and her sister fed for at least a week. Ron must've seen Astoria's name on the list, and Hermione could already guess he was bothered by the fact that she already had a lovely dress for herself, and she was still buying more.
Astoria picked up on his tone but kept her face impassive.
"Thank you. I'm not so fond of it, though. I needed to order a new one if I want to look my best for the Capitol." she said calmly.
Ron snorted, and Hermione glanced up at him knowing he was about to throw another rude comment.
"What are the chances of that? How many could you even have? Five? I had five when I was just a first year."
"Ron," Hermione said quietly, a warning.
But Astoria did not say anything. She neither looked offended nor angry, or even amused. She simply took the packages and placed her own pouch of Galleons in Hermione's hand. Another thing Hermione observed from the Slytherin girl. She was not repulsed by any contact from a muggle-born or blood traitor. She was indifferent to it. She had never defended them- of course she wouldn't. But still, indifferent.
"Thank you," she murmured. She did not smile, and her tone did not change. Though there was a flicker of a moment when her fair features seemed to have softened. She stared at Hermione. "Good luck to you both." She blinked, cast one last look at Ron, then turned and glided back down the stairs.
Ron stared after her as she disappeared, his face torn between irritation and a grimace. Hermione began to walk away when Ron followed in one jerky movement. She knew he was fuming.
"You shouldn't have said any of that, Ron," she scolded, as soon as they were out of anyone's earshot.
"It's bloody unfair," said Ron, and Hermione knew he was about to start one of his pointless rants. "There are gits here who barely lift a finger and everything falls in place for them. And then there are the other loads of us who are starving ourselves to death."
"That's not her fault, though." said Hermione patiently. "You can't go around throwing your anger at people like that, especially if it's misdirected. It could get you in trouble. And you can't just hate her for being more fortunate than us."
"I never said I hated the girl." grumbled Ron. "But why does it matter? Didn't you say that Greengrass girl was a complete cow?" He mimicked her voice at the end.
Hermione was surprised he remembered this small detail. She had said this at least a year ago, although he'd gotten it partly wrong.
"That was her sister, Daphne Greengrass. She was in our year. She's the one who moved away, remember?"
"Oh yeah, because she's fortunate enough to move to a better place."
Hermione sighed, knowing there would always be this bitter side to him caused by the Capitol. "Someday . . . if we keep trying, we could too."
"No." said Ron, strangely quiet. "We don't have to wait. We could do it, you and I. Run off, live someplace else."
What Hermione had implied were her plans of earning her and her sister a better life. After graduation, have decent jobs, and a place they could call a home of their own . . . . Perhaps even live in the Capitol. Not that Hermione thought the Capitol was the best place in the world, but at least it was the one place where they wouldn't have to starve.
She hadn't seen coming the idea of her and Ron running away together.
"If we weren't needed here, 'course," said Ron quickly, when Hermione had fallen silent. "My family, Lye . . . ."
"Harry," she said.
"Yeah. But I think he'd come. I think he'd want to."
"Ron," said Hermione, frowning. "Running away isn't the best option. They'd catch us-"
"They wouldn't -" he started.
"You don't know that." she said a bit more sternly. "As tempting as the idea of finding a better place sounds, it's still a ridiculous concept. Like you said, we're needed here. Maybe someday, we'll be forced to leave. Maybe Harry will need us. Maybe Voldemort will finally disappear. You just don't know that Ron. You can't possibly know. Now isn't the time to make these rash decisions. And, honestly, I don't think it's any safer out there more than it is here. On the contrary, I think we'd have to be even more cautious out there than in District Twelve."
He didn't say anything. He knew she wouldn't approve of any other idea involving running away, or risking Lye's life.
"It was just a thought." he mumbled. Though Hermione could tell it must have been something he'd been thinking about for a while. An idea that probably kept him awake on some nights, while everyone else was snoring, he'd mused over the possibilities . . . . And she'd immediately shot the idea down.
She let out a soft huff of air through her lips. "Well, think of this. After today, we won't have to worry about The Hunger Games for another year. Just think, that in a few weeks we'll be able to start our lessons soon!" she said brightly.
Ron laughed, jumping to a more cheerful mood. "Blimey, Hermione. Only you'd be looking forward to having piles of homework again, wouldn't you?"
She smiled. There was a strand of red hair hanging above his eyes. She reached up to tuck it away. "Well, I imagine everyone else would at least be content enough to simply have their wands back."
He had frozen under her touch, and Hermione quickly pulled her hand away, realizing her act had been a foolish impulse.
"Well, err," he mumbled after the sudden moment of awkwardness, "We'll have to head down to the courtyard in a bit. Should probably wash up. Err, and I should go look for Harry too."
"Right," said Hermione. "I need to see Professor McGonagall."
"Another favor for someone else?"
"No, she didn't say. No more dresses for me." She smiled.
He didn't. He didn't like that Hermione could never afford a proper dress like other girls.
She turned and started to head towards the Professor's office. "I'll see you in the courtyard," she said.
"Wear something pretty," he said flatly, and Hermione frowned when she heard his foul mood return.
As she walked to McGonagall's office, she wondered why a simple touch should make Ron uncomfortable. She hadn't meant anything by it. She was fond of Ron, though perhaps a bit too much. More than she would let herself admit.
When she reached the door, Madam Malkin had opened it before she could knock.
"Oh, there you are," McGonagall said.
"Come in," Madam Malkin smiled. "I was just leaving. Thank you Minerva, for the tea. I'll come by again next week."
"Of course," she said, rising from her seat. She stood and strode over to Madam Malkin, accompanying her out.
"And thank you again, Hermione," called out Madam Malkin, as she walked out into the hallway.
"Your welcome," she murmured, taking a seat in the office. McGonagall bid Madam Malkin goodbye, then closed the door as she left.
"Oh, you're here," said a voice coming from a small room in the back. Lye stepped out in what had been Hermione's first Reaping outfit: a delicate, white blouse and a soft, grey skirt. She grinned sheepishly, as she held her long, blond hair, which was twisted and knotted inexpertly.
Hermione laughed. "Come here," she said. She took the brush from Lye's hands and tried to gently untangle the blond locks. She took a thick strand of hair from each side of Lye's face and pulled them to the back of her head. She braided each one and tied them together, leaving the rest of her hair flowing down her back.
"What will you be wearing?" asked Lye.
"This," said McGonagall, holding Hermione's outfit.
Hermione stared at it with raised eyebrows. "Are you sure?"
"Most sure. The girl who bought it only wore it perhaps once. Instead of giving it away to another, I thought it best to give it to you. I'm sure it will fit, and it would look lovely on you."
Hermione gingerly took the dress while McGonagall grabbed the brush and began to comb the loose hair cascading down Lye's back. "You may change in the room in the back." she said.
Hermione walked to the back and shut the door behind her. She shrugged out of her jacket, and pulled off her brown boots. Stripped down her pants and unbuttoned her shirt, letting them fall to the rug on the floor. She winced slightly as she yanked off the elastic band from her hair. The messy braid did not stop her hair from being bushy, but at least it had left them in separate plates which she could run her fingers through. It felt feathery against her bare shoulders. She held the dress in her hands and then slowly slid it on. The fabric was soft and silky against her skin, it hugged her body perfectly. It smelled fresh and clean. She smoothed the dress over with her hands, though there were no crinkles in sight. The only adjustment she made were buttoning the buttons in the front. She guessed whoever had owned this dress before liked to show a bit too much cleavage.
Her hair felt frizzy, and it was always seen worn down whenever she was around others. Only when she went hunting did she braid it. So she gathered strands of hair and braided them carefully. One starting on the side of her face, at her temple and being braided below her ear, still attached to her head, while going to the bottom of behind her neck. She then piled her hair and twisted it at the top of her head. The last time she'd worn her hair this way had been two years ago, when they'd had guests from two other districts for a special Yule ball. Although she'd used a potion to straighten out any bushy curls. She didn't have any pins to secure her hair and there was no mirror in the room, so she pushed open the door and stepped out to finally get a look at herself.
Lye saw her first and raised her eyebrows in awe. But she was always awed by Hermione, so Hermione didn't think she had a fair judgment.
Hermione walked over to a long mirror on the wall. Before she even asked, Professor McGonagall came and inserted several pins in her hair. Once her hair was secured, Hermione let her arms drop to her sides and stared at her reflection.
"There," said McGonagall, placing her hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Lovely, just as I said." The paintings hanging on the walls of the office murmured in agreement.
The girl in the mirror wore a pale blue dress. It was a similar shade as to the one she'd worn at the Yule Ball. It reached just slightly above her knees. The dress embodied the shape of her thin waist, but was loose at the bottom. Flowing lightly around her thighs and swishing when she'd turn. The dress had very short sleeves, just a few inches below her shoulders. With a neckline that was soft U, an arch that spread from the tip of one shoulder to the other. Small, pearly buttons were lined in the front. The girls chocolate brown curls were braided and twisted at the top of the back of her head, with thin wisps framing face.
Funny now that Ron had asked her to wear something pretty.
"Thank you," Hermione whispered, gazing at herself in the mirror. McGonagall squeezed her shoulder, welcoming her.
"I wish I could look like you," said Lye, who had come from the room in the back, bringing Hermione's folded clothes in her arms.
Hermione smiled. "Oh, no, I wish I could look like you, little Hufflepuff." she said, coming over to sit next to her and tucking a blond strand behind her ear.
"Well, I must be going. I must meet with Professor Flitwick and Sprout before the Reaping." said McGonagall. "Be sure to come downstairs in a few minutes."
Hermione nodded. "Thank you." she said again, the sincerity in her voice as genuine as the first.
Professor McGonagall gave her another of her rare smiles, then quietly closed the door behind her.
The girls were quiet for a minute, Lye was fiddling with the hem of her skirt. Hermione knew she was scared, much more than she showed. This wasn't just a sorting of houses. This was a reaping that could decide her future. It was then Hermione remembered what she'd found this morning.
"Want to see what I got for you today?" she reached for her jacket and pulled out the tiny, golden object she'd found in the Room of Requirement. It was a small, circular pin, with a carefully crafted bird in the center of it. A bird that was both Lye and Hermione's favorite, next to the phoenix. "It's a mockingjay pin." said Hermione. She held it up and the gold shined off even the minimal amount of light in the room. "As long as you have it, nothing bad will happen to you." Hermione placed the pin in the palm of Lye's small hand. She brushed another strand of blond hair away from her pale face. "I promise," said Hermione, the ring of truth thick in her voice.
She wrapped her arms around her, pressing her cheek against the top of her head. She held her for as long as she could, up until she could hear other students outside walking down the corridors, out to the courtyard.
Hermione sighed. "Come on," she said, letting her go and standing up. "Let's go." She grabbed Lye's hand and together they walked out the door.
Just as Hermione turned to shut the door to McGonagall's office, she heard the paintings speak two more words to her and Lye.
The words were "good luck".
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Draco walked among hundreds of other students, into the school courtyard.
He wore a white long-sleeved, collared shirt. No tie, along with black pants and shoes that he'd done his best to polish with a rag this morning. He had tried to comb his pale blond hair as best as he could without the products he was used to. Zabini walked next to him, wearing practically the same thing, although his outfit was crisp and clean and new. Draco's muscles still felt sore from yesterday and this morning, but Zabini was right. It was worth waking up early this morning and working for a few hours to be able to go to Hogsmeade. He hadn't tasted butterbeer for what felt like ages, and he still savored the taste of it in his mouth. It had at least been enough to relax him after working with construction and building for the Capitol. He couldn't understand what the girls here complained about. All they mostly did for work was cleaning.
He remembered how last year he hadn't felt this nervous. There was the possibility he could be chosen, but his father had told him it wasn't likely. What were five slips against thousands of others? But now, Draco had more slips than what he imagined he'd ever have during his time at Hogwarts. He had seventeen slips, he had added twelve more slips than the year before. Even if Zabini had lost some of his fortune, he didn't have as many slips as him.
Draco scanned the crowd of people in the courtyard. He wasn't sure if his parents were going to show up. Each year, the students all lined up at this square outside the castle. There were the large school steps that could serve as a light stage for the people of the Capitol. Draco could see several wizards all waiting to be able to cast the enchantments in the sky. Parents and families lingered on the edges, all as anxious as their children. When there wasn't any more room, the people would have to watch the Reaping from Hogsmeade. They'd have to see it through the images cast in the skies.
Draco passed several adults, but none were his mother or father. From the corner of his eye, he could see Zabini searching for his mother as well. There were some years when Zabini's mother would show up late, and some years when she wouldn't come at all. When they were younger, Draco used to laugh how Zabini might as well join Potter, who also had no one to visit him.
But since his parents were now struggling with so many other things that they probably wouldn't show, Draco would practically be eating his words.
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Lye was clutching Hermione's hand so tightly that her small fingernails were creating deep marks on her skin. Their feet shuffled along the ground, heading to the wizards where they could sign in. Hermione saw Lye staring at her feet, trying to keep her face blank. They hadn't found Harry, Ron, nor Ginny, but on the way Hermione had at least spotted Mrs. Weasley and her oldest son, Bill, standing within a crowd of other adults here to see their children.
When they reached the wizards, Lye balked.
The wizards from the Capitol were all sitting behind desks, and students were lined up in front of them. They pressed the tip of their wands on a student's index finger, and the student's blood would begin to ooze out. The wizard would grab a flask and let the drops of blood spill in the tiny container. Then the student would wait a few seconds more as the wizard would retrieve and then return their wand.
Hermione saw panic in Lye's eyes. She began to take shallow breaths and her shoulders were trembling. Hermione stopped walking and then pulled Lye to the side while other students kept on passing them.
"Shh, Lye calm down." Hermione put her hands on Lye's cheeks, they felt cold and her face was pale and clammy. "It's alright, you don't have to be frightened-"
"You didn't say-"
"I know. I didn't want to make you any more nervous. But it's going to be alright. They're just going to take a small amount of blood from your finger, you'll barely even feel it."
Lye let out quiet, choked gasp. Hermione rubbed the back of her hands with her thumbs.
She remembered a long time ago, Lye had told her she'd like to be a Healer when she was older. Hermione had teased her and asked how she would handle being a Healer if she was afraid when they had to suck out any blood. She had surprised her when she answered in a serious tone, "If I have to take someone's blood, I'd be doing it to help them. Not control them."
And now wizards from the Capitol were here to make Lye's first Reaping even worse.
"It's going to alright, Lye. I promise. Now just line up with the other first years and it'll be over soon enough. I'm sorry you have to, but you need to sign in. You want them to give you back your wand, don't you? It's going to be okay, Lye. Go sign in and wait for me on the sides where the other first years are. Once I'm done, I'll come with you and we'll both walk into the courtyard together, okay?"
Hermione wasn't sure if Lye felt too uneasy to speak, but she nodded, nonetheless.
Hermione let go of her hands and Lye took a deep breath as she walked over to a quick-paced line of first years. Hermione stood in a line with unfamiliar sixth years, keeping her eyes on Lye. Her sister kept her face vacant the whole time. When it was her turn, she stuck out her arm and looked to her side at the ground as the wizard pressed his wand on her finger. Lye didn't even wince when she felt the prick, and the wizard collected her blood in the flask. He summoned Lye's wand and handed it to her.
The person standing behind Hermione nudged her. Hermione was so focused on Lye she didn't notice the wizard in front had been calling her to move up three times already. The wizard took Hermione's hand and pressed his wand on the tip of Hermione's index finger. She felt a slight burn for a second, then a sting that pricked deep into her skin. Scarlet drops slowly leaked out and a flask was pressed under them, letting the blood fall in. The wizard summoned Hermione's wand and she quickly took it. She turned to see if her sister was still in the same spot she'd been in a few seconds ago, but she wasn't. Hermione walked quickly towards that direction, and then she thought she could see a small, blond girl in the distance.
Hermione felt herself bump into a tall figure. She glanced up and saw Malfoy standing in her way. She impatiently stepped around him but when she looked over to the spot where she thought Lye had been, the blond girl had disappeared again. She cursed under her breath at Malfoy's stupid interference and making her loose sight of her sister. She kept walking and shoving through other people, but she couldn't find Lye. But it was too late anyway - the Reaping was starting.
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The Capitol wizard handed Draco his wand and Draco took it. He stepped away from the desk, his fingers feeling warm as he held his wand. It was clean and well polished, probably even more than his black shoes. He had been without it for only a few days, but he didn't like it being taken away from him. Tomorrow he'd have to turn it in again, they would store it along with the other wands from purebloods- that was how they were stored, by year, name, and blood. And they wouldn't return it until the Games were finished, which could be weeks from now.
He still hadn't spotted his parents, and neither had Zabini. If he didn't see them today, he wouldn't see them until the Games were over or even until Christmas. Summer only lasted one month, after all. From near the end of June to near the end of July. August was reserved for The Hunger Games, and whatever leftover time of the summer season was left was used to work, until September first came and then term could start.
There were still students who hadn't signed in; Zabini was still waiting in line. Draco moved along to the side to wait for him, but his shoulder bumped against someone else.
He looked over and saw Hermione Granger standing before him. She appeared to be frantically looking for someone and he was blocking her way. She cast him an irritated look and stepped away from him, walking quickly towards the direction of the inner courtyard.
He looked at her retreating back for a second more, then moved along. Normally, he would have sneered at her to get out of his way. That her mudblood germs would contaminate him from their contact. Who was she looking for? Potter, Weasley? She was wasting her time since they were probably trying to get rid of her. Any insult. But he hadn't said anything. What did it matter? He knew his insults wouldn't affect her the same way they had when they were second years. Apart from that, she could have plenty of insults of her own to throw at him that would make more sense. He just didn't have that same energy in him to say anything to her anymore.
Zabini finally joined him, twirling his wand between his fingers. Together they walked into the main center of the courtyard, among other sixth years. But after everyone would keep filing in, the lines couldn't be maintained and everyone just spread around in a claustrophobic group. Draco stood between what he thought were seventh year Ravenclaws, and there were three first years in front of him. He knew two of them were Slytherins, the blond one who stood two feet away was unfamiliar.
He looked around, seeing adults all standing by the perimeter of the courtyard. Then there were the Peacekeepers lined up as well. He knew some of them were secret Death Eaters. His father had once told him that there were Death Eaters that worked at the Capitol and in the Ministry. Draco couldn't place any names, but he could recognize the faces. Some of them he knew, some just looked familiar.
He set his attention on the large castle steps that was a temporary stage. Teachers were lined on the sides. At the center of that stage were two stands holding a large crystal bowl each. One for the girls and the other for boys. They were filled with thousands of slips of parchment that swirled and shuffled themselves around on their own accord. Twelve of those had Draco Malfoy scrawled on them.
On the top platform were four seats. One held Dumbledore, and another held Umbridge. She refused to actually teach any class at Hogwarts this year, but was here for Capitol business. That, and because she would probably enjoy seeing the faces of the two students who'd be picked for death. The third chair was being used by Rita Skeeter. Once a reporter in the Capitol, now an escort. She seemed to be applying more powder to her face (as if it wasn't startlingly white already) and sickly, bright pink lipstick. Her pea green robes shined in the daylight and around her neck were fluffy, pink feathers. Her short blond curls bounced every time she bobbed her head. The fourth chair was empty. Where a District Twelve victor should be seated, there was an absence. Rita Skeeter glanced at it and shook her head in aggravation. She leaned over and murmured in concern to Umbridge.
The clock finally rang to signify it was two in the afternoon, and everyone hushed as Dumbledore stood and the toad next to him coughed "hem, hem".The Capitol wizards all raised their wands, chanting out spells, and cast them up in the air. In an instant, the skies were filled with images, almost like mirrors, that reflected off everything and everyone. Draco could see the faces of students in the courtyard flashing across the sky, the teachers and parents, the adults on the stage. He had wondered before if the spell had a special enchantment that forced everyone to watch everything the skies displayed. Whatever images were captured would be shown again later to the other districts, but for now it was live to the Capitol.
Dumbledore greeted everyone, and thanked them all for coming (even though everyone knew it was mandatory anyway) and for their courage and sacrifice they would show today. Umbridge stood, and if not for the serious circumstances, Draco would have laughed at the ridiculous height difference. Umbridge took out a role of parchment and opened it. She read about the Ministry's superiority, and how the Capitol dominated all the districts. She spoke of the uprisings, the Dark Days that caused the first Wizard War, the battle of the thirteen districts against the Capitol. The Capitol defeated twelve, and destroyed the thirteenth. Then as punishment, The Hunger Games were born.
Basically, each year two students from every district were taken away. They were called tributes, and participated in the brutal games for a fight to their death. The Games could take place anywhere. A scorching dessert, a freezing wasteland. Tributes were notallowed to enter the arena with their wands. Those who survive the first few days are the strongest, the cleverest. But the ones who died first are the luckiest- they don't have to put up with the torture any longer. Once the best are left to still play, their wands are returned and the real competition really begins for them. After one tribute of a certain district was obliterated, there were sometimes "Replacements". But those were rare and only happened when the Capitol audience wasn't entertained enough, or if they simply craved more violence. The last tribute to stay alive would win.
This was the way the Ministry sent out their message. They were their rulers. And as if there wasn't enough torture, it was required to treat the Games as something to celebrate. Just to humiliate the districts even more. The Hunger Games were a festivity that is meat to be more important than any other sporting event, such as Quidditch. The winner of The Hunger Games received a life of fame and fortune. His or her district would be prized with gifts, while everyone else from the other districts continued to starve.
"It is both a time for repentance, and a time for thanks." finished Umbridge with a nasty grin. She coughed "hem, hem" once more, then sat back in her seat.
Dumbledore read out the list of names for District Twelve. Only one was still alive, and he was currently stumbling up the steps, hollering a bunch of rubbish.
Ludo Bagman staggered across the stage extremely drunk. Draco could see his bewildered face in the sky as everyone politely clapped for him. The applause seemed to confuse him, and when he slumped in his seat he reached over to give Rita Skeeter a sloppy kiss on her cheek. She barely managed to fend him off before he could, looking undignified.
Umbridge curled her lip in disgust and Dumbledore said nothing, but Draco knew everyone in the Capitol was howling with laughter in this moment. District Twelve, always the laughing stock filled with buffoons. Umbridge tried to set everyone's attention back to the actual Reaping, and she introduced Rita as the District Twelve escort.
Rita Skeeter - relieved to step away from Ludo - hopped out of her seat and trotted across to the center of the stage, in between the two stands holding the Reaping bowls. She took out her wand and pointed it against her throat, and the projections in the sky focused on her.
"Happy Hunger Games everyone!" she said, her voice loud and clear, echoing all across the courtyard. "And may the odds be ever in your favor!" She droned on about how excited she was to be here and that she felt so lucky to be the one to choose the two remarkable students to represent District Twelve. But Draco didn't need a sixth sense to tell she was lying. It was all bollocks and Skeeter's way to get a promotion. Sometimes he found her more pathetic and phony than Weasley's father.
And finally, the time for the drawing came. "As usual, ladies first!" said the Skeeter woman.
She bounded over to the stand holding the girls' Reaping bowl. She carefully took off her elegant glove and dug her chalky hand deep into the glass bowl. The slips of parchment were twirling and zooming around, away from her grasp, until she caught one. She pulled out the slip and the rest stopped shuffling, falling to the bottom of the bowl. She unfolded the parchment and held it close to her face.
"Lychorinda Granger," she called out.
Everyone was quiet, then there were a few angry murmurs rippling through the crowd.
Granger? Draco thought, As in related to . . .
He heard, ever so slightly, a quiet choked gasp. He looked to his right and saw the blond first year still standing just a few feet from him, alone. She had her eyes closed, as if she was trying hard to ignore something.
"Lychorinda Granger?" Skeeter called out again. "Well come on now, we haven't all day." The woman's eyes scanned the crowd, looking to see if a girl was weaving her way through the other students to get to the stage. "Don't be shy, come on up!"
Draco saw the little girl in front of him open her eyes and take in one shaky breath. She began to take a few steps but stopped suddenly to tuck in her white blouse neatly into her grey skirt. She slowly walked across Draco, and Blaise stepped back to let her through. She stepped into the free space of the courtyard, an aisle made for the tributes to walk through so everyone can see them as they walked to the stage. Her face was surprisingly calm. He saw two Peacekeepers stand on either side of the girl, guiding her to the stage. But he knew that those weren't just any Peacekeepers. He'd seen them before present in his house. He knew they were Death Eaters.
No one in the crowd said anything, and then, "NO!"
Draco turned and saw Hermione Granger, with a horrified and panicked look in her face, step out of the crowd into the free space of the wide aisle.
"Lye!" she shouted, heading towards the girl. "Lye!" She didn't even need to shove through the people, everyone immediately backed away to give her a free path. But before she could reach the girl, the Peacekeepers - Death Eaters - blocked her way. They roughly grabbed her, restraining her. They tried to push her back, not allowing her to take another step towards the blond girl.
"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!" she screamed desperately. Her hysterical voice echoed loudly throughout the whole courtyard as she frantically pushed past the Death Eaters.
There was a moment of shocked silence. There were several people who gasped, and others stood frozen in place, stunned. Draco could see the pained expressions on some of them. McGonagall had her hand over her mouth, tears threatening her old eyes.
Then Rita Skeeter's white face stretched into a grin. "Well, well, what have we here?" she said, her creepy face had an unpleasant glint to it. "A volunteer? Why, we haven't had one from District Twelve in ages! This is lovely! Although, I do believe there is a procedure in which first we must ask for volunteers after we have already selected both tributes . . . ." She looked from Dumbledore to Umbridge, unsure.
"What does it matter?" said Dumbledore. He looked at the sisters standing between the Death Eaters. There was the first year, chosen for slaughter. And there was her sister, the brightest witch of her age, sacrificing herself. "What does it matter?" he said again. "Let her come forward."
Hermione let out a huff of breath, relieved perhaps, and she ran forward to the little girl, engulfing her in her arms.
Hermione hugged Lye so tightly she felt she might break her. She lowered her lips to her sister's ear so no one could hear. "It's okay, you'll be okay," She spilled out in rushed words. "Go find Harry and Ron. Go find Ginny. Go back with them."
Lye was shaking her head fearfully before Hermione even finished. "No! No, you can't!"
Hermione pulled away and faced the stage. She started to walk towards it. Then she felt Lye's small, clammy hands grasp her arm, trying to pull her back. "No! Hermione, no! You can't go! Please! Don't do it!" She could hear the sobs breaking into her voice.
She tried to pull away her arm but Lye held on too tightly. "Let go, Lye." she said quietly. Lye didn't budge, she continued to desperately pull Hermione back. "Let go!" said Hermione harshly, and she ripped her arm away from her in one jerky movement. Hermione was never cruel to her sister. Never. But she could feel her throat clogging up, her eyes burning the way they did when she felt she was in danger of crying. She knew this moment was being cast in the sky and everyone was watching. Everyone here at Hogwarts, and more importantly, everyone in the Capitol. If they saw her cry they would think of her as weak. They would laugh at her stupidity. She didn't want that. She refused to give any reason for them to laugh or pity her.
Then Hermione felt someone was pulling Lye away from her. She turned and saw Harry had stepped in to take Lye before the Peacekeepers had to drag her away themselves. He struggled for a bit as Lye tried to break free from his arms, but she finally gave in and her tears broke out in hysteric sobs. Harry stared at Hermione with an agonized look, and he gave her hand a quick squeeze before softly saying, "Up you go, 'Mione."
Hermione nodded and watched Harry walk away carrying Lye, who was still crying in his arms, as he headed back towards Ron. She stole a look at him. He stood out in the crowd with his tall height and vivid red hair. He appeared to still be in shock, not having moved a muscle.
She felt the Peacekeepers come to stand by her sides and they guided her way towards the stage. Rita Skeeter stood on the edge of the stage, urging her to come forward. She offered a hand to help Hermione climb up the steps but she didn't acknowledge it. She knew Rita Skeeter was probably bubbling with joy in that moment. After all, Rita loved to see Hermione humiliated. They had a history of that which began two years ago. Rita placed her white hands with long, pointy fingernails on Hermione's shoulders and crossed her over to the center of the stage. She was hopping with excitement and Hermione guessed Rita wanted to take full advantage of this moment to help herself look like an excellent escort.
"Wonderful! Come along, now. Yes, stand right here. Let everyone see you…. Perfect." she said eagerly.
Draco waited quietly within the crowd and watched as Granger stood between the two stands of the Reaping bowls. Skeeter took out her wand again and said, "What is your name, dear?" She pressed her wand against Granger's throat, practically stabbing it, and waited for an answer.
Draco was honestly waiting for her to burst into tears and melt on the floor but she didn't. Her face gave nothing away. She stood there, in her light blue dress and usually-bushy hair piled on top of her head with a few wavy strands fluttering around her face. She only seemed to have swallowed once before she spoke.
"Hermione Granger." she said. Her voice was painfully steady and hauntingly dead.
"Granger? Well then, I'll bet my feathers that was your sister! Didn't want her to steal all the glory now, did you? That's the spirit of these games!" She smiled widely at the crowd and shouted, "Come on, everyone! Let's all give Hermione Granger a big, happy round of applause!"
She started to clap, which was stupid, because she was the only one. No one in the courtyard clapped. No one cheered. Not the teachers, not the parents or villagers, not even the Slytherins dared. Whether the people liked Granger or not, or if they knew her or they didn't, no one raised their hands to approve of this. The silence was deafening. It might as well have been a protest. A shout that said no one agrees. That all of this was sick and twisted and wrong.
And then from the other side of the courtyard Draco saw something unforeseen happen. He couldn't even see who it was- but it started with one, then another, and it was followed by dozens more. Soon almost everyone in the courtyard had joined, even some of the teachers. The people, wizards and witches, had raised their wands into the air and the tips were all illuminated by flecks of light. The younger children, the siblings of students or the ones who lived in the village and were all still too young to posses a wand, pressed their three middle fingers to their lips and then raised them in the air like everyone else.
Draco knew what they were doing. He had never performed this gesture before in his life but he knew what it meant. It was ancient and was rarely used during this time period, something only District Twelve ever did. It is a symbol that means thank you, it means good luck, it means. . . farewell.
Draco glanced back to the stage at Granger. Her face was strained and her body was rigid. Her hands were clenched into fists and he guessed she was fighting the urge to let any tears escape.
Suddenly, Ludo staggered over to where Granger stood. He put an arm around her shoulder and hollered, "Look at this! Look at this one! I like her! She's got lots of . . ." he paused as if he was trying to find a suiting word for her. "Nerve!" he finally said. "Lots of nerve and guts! More than you!" he pointed to the ones in the crowd. "More than you!" he shouted at the sky. But then Ludo Bagman lost his balance and he stumbled forward, falling headlong into the crowd. Skeeter and Granger did nothing to stop him and the people in the crowd hurriedly moved out the way. Ludo smacked himself right on the ground and completely blacked out.
The projections in the skies all focused on him as Peacekeepers came and levitated his body in the air. They carried him away to the very back of the courtyard, or perhaps back to the train he came in. Rita Skeeter was looking rattled as she tried to gain back everyone's focus on the stage. She waved her hands in the air trying to call everyone to order. Draco saw Granger looking a bit calmer, she was staring off into the distance and her face was blank and white as a clean page.
"Well, today is certainly playing on as quite eventful, isn't it?" said Skeeter a bit breathless. "But there is still more fun and excitement to come! It's time for us to select our lucky boy tribute!"
The crowd all became mute once again, and everyone glared at Skeeter as she trotted over to the boys Reaping bowl.
Draco was suddenly nauseous. For the past five years he hadn't felt this nervous. He had never really even felt the need to be. What if it was his name Skeeter would pull out? What if he was about to be sentenced to death? He didn't want the same fate as Granger. He had never really been safe from The Hunger Games but he was more in danger of it now than he'd ever been before.
Rita Skeeter snatched a slip of parchment and the rest stopped zooming around in the bowl. She walked back to her place on the stage and carefully opened it with her long white fingers. The crowd all held their breath, hearts pounding and blood running cold as Rita Skeeter smoothed out the parchment before reading it.
And Draco stood there fidgeting anxiously. He prayed desperately to Salazar that it would not be him, that it wouldn't be him, that it wouldn't be him... And for Merlin's sake, it wasn't him.
It was Blaise Zabini.