7
My heart pounds against my ribs like it's trying to break free. The rough rope digs into my wrists as I subtly try to loosen it, but Harry catches my eye and shakes his head. His eyes dart sternly toward our captors, and I understand his warning. Any sudden moves and they won't hesitate to hurt us.
Draco sits before the crackling campfire, its orange glow casting sinister shadows across his face. He looks almost bored as he stares at us, like we're simply entertainment to pass the time rather than lives he plans to end.
"Why are you all just standing there?" he asks, his voice casual, as if we're friends who've stumbled upon his campsite. "Take a seat by the fire."
Justin and Michael, Draco's loyal allies, shove us forward. I stumble, nearly falling face-first into the flames before being roughly pushed onto a log. Harry lands beside me, his shoulder pressed against mine. That small point of contact becomes my anchor as I try to control my breathing.
Draco's eyes settle on me, and a chill runs through my body that has nothing to do with the evening air.
"You know, Hermione," he says, rolling my name around his mouth like he's tasting it, "I've thought about this moment for so long... since the day I laid my eyes on you. I thought 'she'll be done in a week, tops.' But you've surprised me."
He pulls out a knife – long, gleaming in the firelight – and begins to sharpen it against a stone. The scraping sound feels like it's being dragged across my nerves.
Without warning, Draco rises and crosses to me in two quick strides. I feel the cold press of metal against my throat and freeze. I rush to cry and give him the satisfaction of seeing weakness. This can’t be it. This can’t be my end. On my knees, in the dirt, for the Capitol's entertainment.
"NO!" Harry's roar breaks through my terror. He launches himself at Draco, both of them tumbling to the ground in a violent tangle. For a brief moment, I think Harry might actually kill him – but Michael and Justin are on him in seconds, wrenching him away.
"That wasn’t very smart," Draco says, brushing dirt from his clothes as he stands, seemingly unruffled by Harry's attack.
In the distance, three bombs explode in quick succession, their echoes rolling through the arena. The death cannons. Three more tributes gone.
"Seven left," Draco says.
"The games have been so easy for me this year. Almost disappointing. And when I'm done with you two," he gestures between Harry and me with his knife, "I'll be sad you won't get to watch me become victor." His smile widens. "Poor little Collin will be all alone."
I feel Harry go rigid beside me. The mention of his younger brother's name has struck deeper than any blade could. How does Draco know about Collin? What else does he know about our families? The implications are terrifying – if Draco wins, there's nothing stopping him from carrying his vendetta beyond the arena.
Harry's breathing grows ragged, and I can sense him coiling to spring again, despite them holding him down. Before he can move, a rustling from the shadows stops us all.
"Oohhh, Dracooo," a sing-song voice calls. "A reunion has never felt so good."
Two more tributes step into the firelight. Pansy and Blaise – both Careers like Draco, both supposedly his allies until now. Each holds what looks like a small metal canister.
"Look what we found," Pansy purrs, caressing the canister. "Fog poison. One breath and you're dead in sixty seconds. Isn't that fascinating? You don't even have to be close – just an inch away from the mist and it's over."
For the first time, I see fear flicker across Draco's face.
"Come on now," he says, his voice no longer carrying that confident edge. "We had a deal. The final five, remember?"
"Plans change," Blaise shrugs.
"Take them instead," Draco offers, pointing toward Harry and me. "They'd be so much more... entertaining to torture. The Capitol would love it."
The girl laughs. "Why would we do that? We want the riches to ourselves. Though we realize there can only be one victor in the end... we haven't gotten that far in our planning yet."
Draco keeps talking, desperately trying to negotiate, but I'm no longer listening. My mind is racing through calculations, realizations blooming like blood in water. Seven tributes left. All seven of us here, right now, in this clearing.
The final confrontation has arrived sooner than anyone expected.
I close my eyes briefly, gathering what courage I have left. When I open them, I'm ready for whatever comes next.