To the Death

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Dean Thomas hovered above me, blood covering his entire face, making him almost unrecognizable. His twisted smile grew larger with every second of silence.

"I cannot wait to kill you, Hermione." He gave a soft chuckle and came closer to me. I flinched as he knelt down beside my shaking form, pulling a knife from his backpack. "I have been planning this moment in my head for the longest time. I've been planning this moment before we even got put in the Arena."

I furrowed my brow at him. "What? You've wanted to kill me since before the games?" He laughed again and fury coursed through my veins with every laughing breath he took. "Why? What did I ever do to you?" I was becoming more and more frustrated with every second he didn't answer me.

He stopped laughing and knelt down in front of me. He lightly dragged the knife across the skin of my cheek as he spoke. "You really don't know, do you?" I shook my head softly, being careful not to cut myself on the knife. He sighed and put his hand on my forehead, forcing my head to lay flat on the ground. He began to press the knife harder into my cheek, hard enough to draw blood. I let out a groan of pain as the knife dug into my skin.

"Dean, stop! What did I do?" He stopped pressing the knife into my cheek and began to trace light circles on my neck with the tip of it. I began to feel more and more anxious, on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

"You want to know why I want to kill you, Hermione? Why I pitched the idea of the Hunger Games to Kingsley? Why I had everything rigged so that it would just be you and me in the end? So that I could torture you until you begged me to kill you in front of your entire family?" I was shocked. I didn't know how to process this.

"Dean.. why? We were friends! What did I do to you?" He continued to trace teasing circles on my neck with the knife, barely breaking the skin. He ignored my questions and continued.

"Why would I want to torture and murder the brightest witch of her age? Why would I want to murder the woman who helped save the wizarding world?" My heart pounded against my ribs as if it knew that it were about to seize its beating. As if it knew that there would soon be a knife through it. "Hermione, what if I told you that it had nothing to do with you at all?"

"What?" I was so confused. Why would Dean want to kill me so badly if it had nothing to do with me? "Why do you want to kill me, Dean? Please. I deserve to know why I'm about to die. Please."

He paused and smiled that twisted smile again. "It's because of your brother."

I shook my head and rapidly blinked my eyes. Tears began to fall from my eyes as I was suddenly brought back to the horrible memories of my brother, Thomas. My brother was an awful person. He was a liar, he was a drug addict, he was an alcoholic, and he physically and verbally abused everyone he came in contact with, including me. He lived with Ron and I for a while because he had nowhere to go. The first few months were okay. We lived on different sides of the house and didn't ever bother each other. We tried to rebuild what was left of our disastrous relationship and we were doing a really good job of it. But everything was forgotten when he hit me. He didn't just hit me, he pushed me down the stairs and beat my head against the hard wood floor, laughing. He beat my head against the floor until blood was gushing from my head. Once I was unconscious, Thomas destroyed the living room and ran away. I never saw him again. If Ron hadn't come home at that moment, I would've gone into shock and I would've never woken up.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and shook my head again, desperate to shake the memories out of my head.

"What'd my brother do to you?" I choked out through my tears. Dean's twisted smile began to fall. The deranged expression that inhabited his face was soon replaced with a look of grief. I felt the knife leave my throat and a spark of relief ignited within me. He took a shaking breath, the first sign of true remorse I'd seen from him.

"He murdered my wife." He spoke in such a monotonous voice that I wasn't sure I'd heard him right. "He gutted her and hung her from the tree outside. I found her." I began to shake. I began to feel sick to my stomach again.

I swallowed roughly and began to speak. "Dean I- I'm so sorry. I didn't know." He glared at me with a murderous look. He shook his head and continued to glare down at me.

"Your brother isn't the only reason I've been so desperate to kill you." I furrowed my brow in confusion. My heart began to pound as he opened his mouth to speak. "I was so shocked and so upset. I called the aurors to come and investigate. To give me the name of the man who killed my wife. When I found out that your idiot husband was coming to investigate, I begged for somebody else to come help me. I begged for Harry, or anyone else in that fucking department. But I was stuck with Ron." I began to feel fury bubble up inside me as he continued. "That fag knew it was your brother. He didn't want me to go revenge crazy and try to hurt you."

Dean looked up into the sky and screamed to the heavens. "WELL, RON? HOW'S YOUR LITTLE PLAN WORKING NOW?" Dean dropped the knife on my stomach and waved his arms around like a mad man. "I'VE GOT YOUR WIFE TRAPPED AND SHE'S GOING TO SUFFER THE SAME WAY MY WIFE DID!" I grasped the handle of the knife and mentally prepared myself for what I was about to do. "YOU'RE GOING TO FEEL EXACTLY LIKE I DID WHEN MY WIFE DIED! I HOPE YOU'RE SATISFIED, BECAUSE THIS IS YOUR F-"

He never got to finish his sentence. I jumped forward and enveloped him in a tackle. We flew through the air for what felt like forever and I was suddenly brought back to the memory of Cody tackling me to the ground. I couldn't let what happened to Cody happen to me. I had to end this. I had to kill Dean.

We hit the ground roughly and I fell on top of Dean, the knife raised above my head. I plunged the knife down toward his heart, but I felt his rough hands grip my arm, stopping the motion that would end his life. He roughly backhanded me twice across the face, weakening me. He grabbed me by the shoulders and quite literally threw me to the ground. I let out a loud moan as my head came in contact with the hard ground again.

Dean sat on top of my stomach, causing me to scream in agony. The familiar burning pain began to ripple and tear across the inside of my stomach once again. I continued to scream in pure agony until I felt his weight lift off of me. I wanted to tackle him again so badly but I couldn't move, my body still burning internally, screaming in pain.

My eyes welled up with hopeless tears when I looked up again. Dean stood above me, a giant stone in his hand. In what felt like another world, I felt the handle of the dagger still in my hand. I tightened my grip on the handle, just to make sure it was real.

Dean leaned closer to me, his putrid breath coming out in wild gasps. My heart sped up as he began to speak in the most haunting voice I've ever heard.

"Say goodbye." With that, he raised the giant stone above his head.

In those final moments, I knew I had to do it. It was literally do or die. I mustered up every ounce of strength left in me and jumped up, pushing him roughly to the ground. He dropped the giant rock and looked up at me in shock.

I raised the knife above my head and plunged it roughly into his chest. He screamed in agony as I pulled the knife out of his chest. All of the colour immediately drained from my face as blood began to gush from the wound. Tears of pain stung his eyes and I felt absolutely awful for causing him this much pain, but I had to do it. I had to kill him.

I stabbed him again in a different place in his chest and he tensed up, pain overtaking his body. Blood began to erupt from his mouth and he began to turn white, his screams of pain turning into loud gargles as blood filled his throat.

I've never felt so guilty in my entire life. Dean began to become quieter and quieter as the life quickly drained from him. I stabbed him two more times, just to make sure he would die.

Dean's eyes began to glaze over, eternal sadness forever looming in them. I dropped the knife to my side with shaking, blood covered hands and watched his chest rise and fall with his final breaths.

A final trickle of blood fell from his mouth as he took one more breath. A cannon blasted in the distance. It was over.

Dean Thomas was dead. I won.