I woke up to the sound of cries coming from the bed next to me. The heavy curtains muffled Lavender's sobs, but not enough to completely drown them out.

"Lavender? Are you okay?" I whispered, not wanting to wake up my roommates. It was our sixth year, second to last before our final reaping. The odds were not in Lavender's favor, much less in mine. In a few hours we would know whether we would live to spend one more year at Hogwarts.

"Hermione," she squeaked, pulling back a heavy scarlet curtain. "I'm afraid." Her voice cracked at the last word and I felt the urge to comfort her. Tip toeing across the room I crept into her bed and pulled her into a tight hug.

"Me too," I murmured. Lavender Brown has the good fortune of being a half-blood. Her name was in the goblet twelve times. I did not have that comfort. As a mudblood there were eighteen pieces of parchment with my name on them. "But, it's going to be okay." The lie felt wrong on my tongue.

Lavender looked at me with a new found sparkle in her eye. "Do you really think so?"

I looked into her buggy blue eyes and nodded. "Absolutely."

I woke up three hours later, Lavender clinging to my arm as she slept. I smiled at my only friend as I squeezed myself out of her grasp. I had promised myself that I would not become emotionally attached to anyone. The possibility of losing them was too great, but Lavender and I became friends despite my best efforts. It happened our first year when she was crying over her Potions homework. I had been excelling in all of my classes without many problems, so I decided to help her just that once. Six years later and I still come to Lavender's rescue.

I quickly made my bed and walked to the girls' lavatories. I was still thinking about the probability of my reaping when I slammed right into a head of bright red hair.

Ginny Weasley looked mortified and hastily helped me pick up my uniform that had fallen during the collision.

"I'm so sorry," she laughed. "I didn't see you there, Hermione."

I was shocked that her tone was so light, almost as if there wasn't the possibility that one of us could be dead by the end of the month.

"It's fine, I'm still half asleep," I said forcing a smile.

Ginny nodded and patted my hand. "Good luck today." With that she walked out of the room. I showered and dressed as steadily as possible, enjoying the potential last moments of freedom. Before leaving the lavatory I allowed myself one look in the mirror.

My hair was a frizzy mess, my brown curls, unruly as ever. My brown eyes framed by overly busy eye brows. The splatter of freckles along my nose and my small lips did little else for my appearance. I shrugged and smoothed out my skirt one last time before departing for the Great Hall.

Lavender and I had a meager breakfast, the nerves preventing us from tasting anything at all. I looked down the table to see Ginny, Harry Potter and her brother, Ronald sitting at the end. She looked up and smiled at me.

I smiled back, but quickly realized Ron was looking at me. I blushed and pushed my plate towards the center of the table. The act may have seemed silly, but something about the youngest male Weasley made me ridiculously flustered.

Moments later the tables were cleared and a short, plump woman approached the podium. Her pink ensemble so bright it hurt my eyes.

"Welcome everyone!" squealed Dolores Umbridge, the representative from the Ministry of Magic. "As you all know, today we will choose the lucky boys and girls who will participate in the Eighteenth annual Hunger Games!"

I looked across the hall to the Slytherin table. All the students wore their sly smiles, no doubt excited about the commencement of the Games. Slytherin had always been known to train their students for the games. Providing winners for twelve out of the last twenty years. Ravenclaw had four winners, Hufflepuff three and Gryffindor with a one. Harry Potter had won five years before.

The odds had truly not been in his favor that year. He only had his name in the goblet once, not to mention he had only completed one year of schooling the month before. The games were held during the summer and were broadcast all throughout the wizarding world. I tried desperately to ignore the screen during mandatory broadcasts, but the images still crept back into my mind.

I shook my head trying not to think back to the past games, and praying to Merlin that I would not have to go through them myself. I looked down at my black shoes, trying to control my erratic breathing. Lavender looked over at me and grabbed my hand. I squeezed hers tightly and smiled without looking up.

"Gregory Goyle," chirped Umbridge. The Slytherin group cheered on as a burly, hideous boy strutted to the front of the podium. Draco Malfoy, one of the Slytherin winners, whistled loudly. Umbridge took another note from the goblet, this time it was Millicent Bulstrode.

"Next up, Gryffindor!" There was a significant intake of breath from our entire table. A pit instantly formed in my stomach. Umbridge took a piece of parchment from the green embers of the goblet and made a face of disgust. "Ronald Weasley."

I looked up to see Ron walk slowly to the front of the podium. His older brothers had all left Hogwarts last year, leaving him and Ginny. There would be no volunteers to take his place. I saw Ginny's shoulders tense for the briefest moment, then relax as Harry threw an arm over her shoulder. I looked at Ron, who was standing next to Millicent, looking strong. Instantly, I thought back to the moment we had shared during our second year. The moment I never thanked him for, now I would never get the chance.

At that moment his eyes rose to look at mine. Once again I blushed, but this time I refused to look away. I held his gaze for the longest time, trying to convey the gratitude for that night so many years ago. Ron's eyebrows furrowed and his lips parted in shock.

That's when I heard my name called. "Hermione Granger," repeated Umbridge, more irritated than before.

Lavender chocked on a sob, then gave me a light pat on the shoulder. My feet carried me to the podium on their own accord.

"Daft mudblood," snickered Malfoy as I passed by the Slytherins.

I knew how important it was to look strong during these moments, the reaping was behind televised, but I did not have it in me. Instead I looked blankly ahead, willing myself not to cry. If I couldn't look strong, I would look indifferent.

Four more names were called, but I didn't hear them. I focused on counting my breaths and recalling any survival skills I had learned throughout the years. Just as the tributes were escorted into the hallway, I felt a cold, clammy hand intertwine with mine. I looked up to see Ron giving me a half-hearted smile. I returned it, knowing that at one point during the next few weeks we would be trying to kill each other.