A/N: Thanks to RaiderWolf, E8rocks23, MOVSm16, Anonimous, OzmeoTree, ASAD021, sunshine katz, Love My Fandoms and the guests for reviewing! The support for this fic has been simply incredible.

I thought I should mention, after reading some of the reviews for the previous chapter, that despite Harry and Hermione talking about love, it was only ever in a platonic sense, just as it was in the original books. Of course, for Ron and Hermione, the feelings were somewhat different.

While this is the last 'full' chapter in this fic, there's so much to include in here that there will be one more chapter, functioning as an epilogue.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy reading the chapter :)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Eventually the applause and the music died, and Hermione was left alone in the arena once again, flustered, burned and exhausted, dragging her feet as she staggered around the Cornucopia in the ruins of the arena.

Barely a minute after the music faded, Hermione heard the tell-tale sign of a hovercraft appearing above her, the low rumbling that demanded her attention. At first she expected it to collect the bodies of those who had fallen around her - Zabini, Malfoy and Harry - but instead it dropped a long ladder down just in front of her. Her ticket out of the arena.

Grasping the bottom rung of the ladder, the electric current held Hermione in place as it pulled her upwards into the hovercraft. She was grateful for the current; she doubted she had the strength to hold on for long enough by herself. Frozen there as she rose into the sky, the adrenalin finally began to subside, and the damage that the Gamemakers' fires had caused was becoming more and more apparent. Long burns covered her arms, glistening welts and blackened skin all across her body. The pain was only just beginning to arrive, but she'd need medical attention if she was to avoid the worst of it.

Arriving in the hovercraft, Hermione was confronted by a dozen concerned doctors, who began leading her along a long corridor as soon as she was free from the ladder's current. As she was marched along, Hermione caught glimpses of her wild, matted hair and burned skin in the reflection of the hovercraft's shiny walls. She had never taken a great amount of care with her appearance regularly (honestly, she couldn't see the point), but she knew that the arena had left her looking ragged and weathered.

"This way, Hermione," an older doctor said gently, leading Hermione into another room at the end of the corridor. Hermione barely got through the door before she felt a needle pierce her right arm and the world faded to black.

Hermione woke in a small, white room filled with artificial light. There were no windows and little decoration. The whole room was eerily silent, void of the hovercraft's tell-tale humming and slight rocking motion. This was somewhere in the Capitol.

Slipping off her bed, Hermione found herself to be naked, and became absorbed in the view she saw in the mirror ahead of her. She was looking at herself, her once-scorched skin now pale and unblemished. Even by magical standards, the work that the Capitol doctors had managed to do to her was impressive. Her hair, long though it was, seemed much more manageable, her eyes returning to the curious, excited state they often used to be, rather than the frenzied view she was greeted with in her reflection before the doctors had seen to her. Relief and gratitude to the Capitol's doctors poured over her, grateful that the arena had caused her no lasting damage.

It was only when she thought about the arena itself that everything she had been through came back to her, and she felt her stomach falling.

Harry, Ron...

Suddenly, a door slid open in the wall beside her and a young nurse walked through into the room, carrying a clipboard.

"Oh!" the nurse blushed, glancing at Hermione's naked body before quickly looking away. She spoke in the high, affected tones that all young Capitol women used, one that sounded very alien to Hermione, even more so after a fortnight in the arena away from it. "You're awake... Doctor Fielding will want to hear about this..." And then the young woman was gone, the door sliding behind her.

A few minutes later and the girl was back, this time followed into the room by the older doctor Hermione recognised from the hovercraft. He was carrying a tray of food and a glass of orange juice. The young nurse held a stack of clothes.

"Good to see you're awake, Hermione," the doctor, Fielding, said as Hermione tucked back into bed, hiding in the covers. "You've recovered faster than most from the work we've done. Of course, that might have something to do with the magic in you, we don't really know..." The doctor sounded a little nervous; Hermione was sure he was aware of exactly what type of dangerous magic she knew. Suddenly reminded of her uses of the unforgivable curses in the Games, and what had happened to force her to use them, Hermione was desperate for a change of subject. Not knowing what else to do, she started eating from the tray until she noticed the clothes placed on her bed next to her.

A white t-shirt, dark combat trousers, leather fingerless gloves and leather boots. The clothes she had worn in the arena.

Hermione flinched.

"I- I'm not going back in, am I?" she asked nervously.

Doctor Fielding chuckled slightly.

"Of course you're not, don't worry about that," he said reassuringly, placing a hand on Hermione's bare shoulder, which made her feel slightly uncomfortable. The Capitol people seemed much more keen on physical contact than she was. Or perhaps her time in the arena had left her shying away from close attention; she didn't know. She couldn't think.

"There wouldn't be any point in fixing you up if you were going back in the arena," Doctor Fielding continued. "This is just for the reunion."

Hermione nodded, but she wasn't sure if she understood. She had spent so much time before the arena fretting about the Games, she had no idea what the procedure was once she had won.

The doctors left, leaving Hermione to eat and dress in peace. Looking at the slick, polished version of herself in the mirror dressed in the clothes of a tribute, Hermione was suddenly thrown back to a moment weeks ago in the Launch Room where she stood looking at her reflection with her stylist, Dorian, completely unaware of all the horrendous things she was about to experience. The longer she remained awake, the more the memories flooded her mind, made it harder to concentrate on anything.

Eventually an Avox came through the door and gestured for Hermione to follow her, leading her along a corridor towards her waiting support team; her stylist Dorian, her escort Marie, and both of Gryffindor's mentors, Finnick and Katniss. There were men holding cameras around her, but Hermione ignored them in the excitement of meeting a friendly face. Both Dorian and Marie were on the edge of tears; Finnick was grinning.

"Well done, champion," Finnick said, hugging Hermione as he reached them.

"We couldn't be more proud," Katniss added, smiling as Finnick released Hermione.

Hermione looked at both her mentors, who had somehow helped her understand as much as possible to prepare for the Games just a few weeks ago, whose support and placement of sponsor gifts had given the edge in the arena, and she felt she needed to say something to them about how she felt, about the horrors that she had been through, but she couldn't find the words, and somehow she had the feeling that both her fellow victors already understood more than she could explain.

"So what happens now?" Hermione asked.

"Well," Katniss explained. "The formal victory celebration takes place tonight in City Circle, where the interviews were held." Hermione couldn't help but be reminded that everyone else who was interviewed that night was now dead.

"Don't worry, you won't have to talk that much," Finnick grins. "Honestly, this is the easy bit after everything you've achieved."

"After that, there's an interview tomorrow morning with Caesar Flickerman-"

"You'll have to do a lot more talking there," Finnick interrupts.

"Finnick, please. After that, the Hunger Games are over, and we can all go home."

Hermione didn't respond to that; the question of home was still unresolved. What was waiting for her once the Games were over? Was she expected to stay in the Capitol? Would she be shipped off to one of the districts? Would she get to choose which district? Or, after everything she'd seen, would she be sent back to Hogwarts, to Dumbledore and her half-filled dorm in Gryffindor Tower, sleeping next to the beds of her dead friends?

Honestly, she didn't know what she wanted, and was too tired to think about it.

Finnick glanced at the clock on the wall.

"We don't have long until the victory celebrations begin," he said. "You'd better go with Dorian and get ready."

Despite being restored to peak physical condition by the Capitol's doctors, Hermione felt as though she had no energy to think as Dorian led her to a glass elevator that brought her up into the foyer of the Training Centre. From there, a second, more familiar elevator led her higher into the building, back to the rooms she had used in the days before the Games began. The last time she had been in that elevator, Harry and Ron had been beside her...

Finally the elevator doors opened, and Hermione quickly became lost in the adulation of her prep team. They were overemotional and way too expressive for her liking, constantly telling her their experiences of the Games; where they were when various things happened, how they felt at various critical points in the arena - the youngest of her prep team said they cried when Nott killed Ron, which hit Hermione like a punch in the stomach. They spoke in awe of all the magic they had seen, the ugly brutal side of magic that they had all shown during the Games; they had seen magic at its worst. But everything they said was about themselves, and none of them ever asked about Hermione. She just had to sit there, glowering at them while they did their job, hating them for reminding her of everything that had troubled her for the past month.

Eventually they were done, but she didn't get much of a break before Dorian was helping her prepare for the victory celebration. Her outfit was to be simple but elegant. The dress was black, but aside from that, it reminded Hermione very much of the outfit she had worn at the Yule Ball in her fourth year, when Hogwarts was home to the best students of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang during the Triwizard Tournament.

"I'm sorry about the prep team," Dorian apologised as he styled Hermione's hair. "They can be insensitive at times." His voice had almost completely trailed off by the end of the sentence.

"Don't worry about it," Hermione said without really thinking. Everything felt like it was happening at a distance from her; she hoped it was just nerves before the victory celebrations, but she knew that wasn't going to be the case.

The victory celebrations were presented from the same stage as the interviews, outside the Training Centre in the City Circle. However, it was customary for the victor to be introduced from a plate beneath the stage, and so Hermione found herself ushered outside beneath the stage by Katniss just a few minutes before her cue. Overhead she could hear the roar of the crowd, their gracious applause as the effervescent voice of Caesar Flickerman welcomed them, the fanfare and jubilation only just beginning.

"Don't worry," Katniss said, drawing Hermione into a tight hug beneath the stage. "There's nothing that can go wrong now. This is your victory night - it's hard, but try and enjoy it."

"That won't be difficult at all," Hermione snapped sarcastically. It had been a long and exhausting day, and she didn't want any part of this ceremony.

Katniss hugged Hermione again, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Just try, OK?"

"I'll try," Hermione said quietly as Katniss left her there beneath the stage, waiting quietly for her cue.

Never, in all of her life, had Hermione felt quite as alone as she did there, stuck beneath a stage in a foreign city in the future where thousands of people were cheering her for murdering her friends.

But, like at so many other moments that day, she didn't have long to dwell on her own thoughts as she heard Caesar Flickerman welcome her team onto stage one by one. First her prep team, then a very excitable and grateful Marie, then Dorian, and finally Katniss and Finnick, who was greeted very enthusiastically by the female portion of the audience. Finnick made some barely-audible jokes before Caesar was calling her name and the floor began to move, raising her upwards onto the stage.

Hermione was almost completely blinded by the bright stage lights as she rose onto the stage to rapturous applause. Looking to her left, she saw all of her support team clapping her, broad smiles on their faces, and beyond them Caesar Flickerman, a microphone in one hand and the other extended towards her, inviting her over towards him.

"Our latest victor, everyone, Hermione Granger of Gryffindor!" Caesar Flickerman exclaimed, gesturing towards an ornate chair, gilded in gold and upholstered in red velvet. The colours of Gryffindor.

Hermione could barely do more than wave at the audience as she made her way to the chair - which could almost be considered a throne - while Finnick joked with Caesar, and soon after she sat down the lights around the City Circle were dimmed and a film began to play on large screens hung from all of the buildings around her. She quickly realised it was a highlights package of the Hunger Games. Glancing around, she noticed at least four cameras trained on her. Gritting her teeth as she realised her reaction would be broadcast around Panem, Hermione prepared herself for the Capitol's perspective on, as they were now calling it, The Wizarding Games.

Hermione had found out enough about the format of the Hunger Games during her time in the Capitol to know that her Games had clearly gone off script. Instead of the highlights beginning with a reaping, the film began by showing a speech given by President Snow, explaining that year's extraordinary circumstances that eventually led Hermione to the Capitol. From there, there was a short broadcast explaining which victors had been chosen as mentors to represent each of the four houses.

Then, all of a sudden, the tributes' parade was being shown on screen. For the first few minutes, Hermione found it painful to watch, but she quickly realised that she wanted to see her friends again, at least now when they were shown before entering the arena. Her eyes lingered on the screen whenever Harry was shown, and especially for Ron.

Every year, the Capitol people who produce the highlights broadcast choose a narrative to tell during the highlights, and this year, the story was that of a rivalry between two opposing sides, each building in strength before a final confrontation. On one side was Draco Malfoy, flanked by Nott and to a lesser extent, Zabini. On the other, Hermione was backed up by Harry and Ron. Whatever one side managed, the others were shown matching it, the tension building through the broadcast to see who would crack first.

Training came and went, the interviews flew by, and suddenly they were in the arena. For the first time, Hermione was forced to live through her time in the Games again, a whirlwind of events that fly past her menacingly like Bludgers; the bloodbath and her brief standoff with Malfoy, confronting the Hufflepuffs at the Cornucopia, fighting off the Patils, rejoining Harry and Ron and getting her wand back, the lighthouse, that awful fog that forced the battle with Malfoy, Nott arriving at the last minute to save the day-

Hermione couldn't bear to watch at that point.

Fighting back tears, Hermione saw things she had never known about during the Games, such as the unseen threat of Sophie Roper, a girl Hermione had barely known who cut down several in the first days of the Games, and the dreadful battle between Malfoy and Nott at the end of their partnership. In watching Malfoy as the cameras followed him through the arena, Hermione became appalled by the vast number of unforgivable curses the former Death Eater had used in the Games. It was absolutely abhorrent.

Eventually she watched her and Harry fight off Michael Corner - her first kill - and figure out the acrostic poem, leading them to the night before the feast, where Hermione did the one thing she regretted more than anything else in her life. It had been a moment of pure passion, born from watching Ron, the one person she cared about in this world more than any other, collapse at the hands of another man. She was normally not one for revenge, yet she dealt it in the most ruthless and unforgiving way possible.

And she hated herself for it.

The feast came and went, and suddenly she was watching herself running through the flames, crying out in pain as she struggled to breathe-

It was all too much again, the memories of the burns searing up her arms, the panicked screams, the scalding air searing down her throat...

The filmmakers had chosen to show the final battle in full, with no editing. Hermione had little choice but to watch as she and Harry cut down Blaise Zabini, as she attempted to broker a deal with both Harry and Malfoy, being hit with the Cruciatus Curse. There was nothing she could do as she watched Malfoy cut Harry down before the final showdown the filmmakers had been building to could take place.

The eventual victor of that fight, the film ended with Hermione letting go of Harry's hand as his cannon fired, turning away and walking resolutely into the arena.

For a long time after the program finished, even despite the continued cheering and applause of the passionate crowd, Hermione didn't know what to think. So much had happened in such a short space of time, so much she could barely comprehend and desperately hoped wasn't real...

Eventually, the sight of the whole audience standing on their feet as the anthem played, heralding the arrival of President Snow, snapped Hermione back to reality. Caesar Flickerman gave a low bow as Snow walked across the stage past him, a young girl in tow, who carried a golden crown. Carefully, and to much applause, Hermione stood as Snow placed the crown atop her head, and held her hand high as the victor of the 75th Annual Hunger Games.

As is tradition, the Victory Banquet took place that night at President Snow's mansion, but Hermione had precious little time to eat anything, such was the level of interest in her. Crowded from all sides by Capitol officials, celebrities and eager sponsors who had backed her success, Hermione found herself eternally grateful for Katniss, who stood resolutely by her side, guarding her from the crowds and protecting her whenever some of the young Capitolites became too eager to pressure her.

Sensing Hermione's displeasure, Katniss took her back to the Training Centre early that night without Finnick. Hermione had meant to say something to Katniss, to thank her for everything she'd done to help her, but both victors were too exhausted and promptly collapsed in the sitting room.

By the time Hermione woke, the sun was pouring in. She felt refreshed, but the cloud in her brain still hadn't cleared. She doubted it would for a while.

"You're awake," Katniss smiled, re-entering the room. "Here. I brought you some toast."

"Thanks," Hermione said groggily, sitting upright. "Where's Finnick?"

For the first time, Katniss looked slightly awkward. "He never came back last night. I've no idea where he's got to." Hermione had the feeling that Katniss had an idea where Finnick was at the very least, but was choosing not to tell her. This wasn't the first time this had happened, after all.

"So," Katniss continued. "Today's the last day."

Hermione wasn't sure what she thought about that. She wasn't sure what she thought about much anymore. What she wanted was Harry and Ron.

"Your final interview is up here today, with Caesar Flickerman. After that, the Games are over, and we can all go home for a year." Katniss laughs slightly, as though somehow amused by the thought. "Dorian and Marie should be here soon, and hopefully Finnick will turn up, too."

"What do you think will happen to me after the Games?" Hermione asked, suddenly aware of how soon her life was heading into the unknown.

Katniss sighed. "Honestly, I don't know. I don't think it's my decision by any means, but if you're staying here, there'd always be room in District Twelve for one more victor," she finished with a smile.

"Really? You think so?"

"Yeah. I'm sure Haymitch and Peeta would appreciate a fresh face around the place. It's pretty boring, mind..."

"Well, who knows? Maybe the Gamemakers will let me decide..."

Before anything else could be said on the matter, Finnick burst in, flanked by Dorian and Marie.

"Morning, champion," he said with a grin. "Sorry I'm late, everyone. Business to attend to, you know..."

Hermione clearly did not know, but Katniss gave a slow nod and gestured for Finnick to sit down.

"We've just been talking about what's going to happen to Hermione after the interview today," Katniss explained to Finnick.

"Well, about that, I've got news," Finnick replied. "We've got to take Hermione to the Head Gamemaker after her interview. Apparently he needs to speak to her."

"Well, that's that sorted then!" Marie said with a tone of optimistic finality that definitely didn't mirror how Hermione felt. How that woman could manage to be so positive all the time...

Hermione's mind was working so quickly, trying to decide what she wanted to do about her future, that she barely even processed her televised interview, answering questions on autopilot. In hindsight, Hermione realised that she was probably answering much more honestly and emotionally than she would have been if she had thought about her answers; everything to do with the Games was too much for her to process. She felt like she needed a week to think everything through, and then she would be fine to talk about it.

But there was no time; the show must go on.

Eventually Caesar was signing off, thanking the viewers for their part in the 75th Hunger Games, and once again congratulating Panem's latest victor. Then the cameras stopped rolling, and it was over.

"That's a wrap!" Dorian shouted jubilantly behind one of the cameras, and Caesar laughed along with him. Another Games were over, and a tremendous success at that. Everyone was cheering and congratulating Hermione again, her time in the Games now completely over.

All that was left was the small matter of getting home.

Bidding farewell to her stylist and escort, Finnick and Katniss led the way, taking Hermione down the elevator out of the Training Centre for the final time.

"If I get a choice," Hermione said as the three descended, watching the bright buildings of the Capitol begin to tower over them. "Then I'll take up your offer, Katniss. I want to live in District Twelve."

"Sure you wouldn't want to live by the sea instead?" Finnick asks, but Hermione shook her head. Of all the people she had met in Panem, she trusted Katniss the most. Different though they may be, Hermione found a way to relate to her. Over time, she felt she would become her former self again; she knew it. Whatever had happened to her in the arena, it had happened in the past. Now was the time for thinking about the future, and fellow victors would help each other heal.

Katniss led the way as the three victors slipped into the back of a car, taking a short drive to tall marble building decorated with purple and gold banners. It was almost empty as they walked up shallow stone steps into a vast foyer.

"This is the Hunger Games Headquarters," Finnick explained, his voice echoing in the empty room. "The Gamemakers work here, to design the arenas and plan for future Games."

"Also, it's where we work as mentors during the Games. We've been here most of the last three weeks," Katniss adds.

"What matters now," Finnick continues. "Is that the Head Gamemaker's office is on the top floor." Finnick strolls across the foyer, his boots clicking on the polished stone, stopping when he reached an elevator, gesturing for Katniss and Hermione to follow him inside.

"Florian Marshall said we weren't to come in with you today," Finnick explained as they rose to the top floor, opening on a long, dimly lit corridor, with one door at the far end. "He wanted to speak to you in confidence, so this is as far as we can come." Suddenly Hermione felt even more nervous.

"Well," Katniss said, unsure what to say. "I guess this might be it."

"Even if I can't stay with you, this isn't over," Hermione said. "We'll meet again, I'm sure. At worst, we'll be here once a year, right?"

"Very true," Finnick nodded.

"Even if I can somehow get back to where I came from, you'll have to come and visit," Hermione said with a slight laugh. At this point, she didn't know what she wanted at all. Hogwarts would never feel the same again, but she didn't know if she was ready to live in Panem, either.

"Well, we'll just have to find out, won't we?" Katniss said, nudging Hermione along, away from the elevator. "Go on, then. Best not to keep the Head Gamemaker waiting."

Hermione took a deep breath, and moved away from the two victors who had helped her so much.

"Thanks for everything," she said. "I'll see you soon."

"You'd better keep in touch," Finnick said with a grin.

"Take care of yourself, Hermione," Katniss added, and then Finnick pressed the button on the elevator and the doors closed, leaving Hermione alone.

The corridor wasn't as long as Hermione thought, and she was soon standing outside a thick oak door with a gilded sign that read:

Florian Marshall, Head Gamemaker

Hermione smirked as she saw the word Assistant had been hastily scribbled out. Since Seneca Crane's resignation, they hadn't yet had the chance to make a new sign...

Taking a deep breath, Hermione knocked on the door three times. The door opened with a firm click, and Hermione found herself face to face with the Head Gamemaker. Now that she could see him up close, she saw that he was only a few years older than her, almost certainly younger than Finnick. Now that the Games were over, his attire was much more casual than during the Games, the thick robes replaced with a tight purple shirt and slacks, the top two buttons of his shirt undone. He was clean-shaven, with thick purple streaks in his jet-black hair.

"Hermione Granger," he began with a smile, holding out a hand. "Welcome to the exclusive club of winners. Want to come in?"

Hermione wasn't sure what to say, but she shook his hand anyway and entered the office. It was small and square; she had expected something more grand. There were paintings on the walls and a small computer at the mahogany desk in the centre of the room, a chair on either side. The entire wall opposite the door was made of glass, offering excellent views over the Capitol.

"I could have moved into Seneca Crane's old office when he resigned," Marshall explained, sensing Hermione looking around the room. "But honestly, I like my things where they are now. Much less hassle this way, anyway."

"Whatever ended up happening to Crane, anyway?" Hermione asked. Subconsciously, it had been on her mind ever since Marshall had made the announcement.

"Now, now, Hermione, you know a Gamemaker can't answer that question," Marshall replied with a sly smile, taking a seat behind his desk; Hermione took that to mean that she should sit down opposite him. "However, you're a clever girl; why don't you tell me what happened?"

"Well," Hermione thought aloud. "Crane never turned up again after the private training sessions, did he? I don't recall seeing him at interview night..."

"That's correct."

"In which case, his absence is the same reason that the private training sessions got cancelled after Malfoy's... Crane was handing out wands to everyone... Oh! It's so obvious now… Malfoy attacked him during the private sessions! No wonder you all gave him a twelve!"

"Now, it's worth more than my job to say exactly what happened in his session," Marshall said carefully, "But I can tell you that Seneca Crane is currently in hospital after receiving a particularly nasty dose of the Cruciatus Curse. His levels of sanity are, currently, questionable."

"But that's horrible!"

"Welcome to Panem," Marshall shrugged. "It's always been like this here. If anything, an attack like this might get some of my fellow Gamemakers to stop thinking the sun shines out of their every orifice..."

"It's still a despicable thing to do."

"He used us for his advantage; having been a part of the Games for long enough, I admit that I admire his pluck, in another year Draco Malfoy might have made a fine victor... But anyway, enough talk of the Games! I imagine you're fed up of talking about them by now!"

"You could say that again," Hermione muttered, for the first time getting a sense of unease. The last time she'd had a conversation in a superior's office like this, she'd been brought to the Capitol in a panic.

"So, to business..." Marshall continued, opening a drawer in his desk and rummaging around for some papers. "Normally, at the end of the Hunger Games each year, the victor returns to their district, to live a life of ease in Victors' Village, where the most luxurious houses possible have been built for our victors' pleasure. They deserve them, after all, for everything they've been through.

"However, as you don't have allegiance to any district, this causes us a problem. I'm not expecting you to have an answer now, and you are welcome in the Capitol for as long as it takes you to come to a decision, but you need to decide where you would like to live, Hermione."

"District Twelve," Hermione said almost instantly. "I want to live with Katniss in District Twelve."

"Twelve?" Marshall replied, somewhat surprised. "Well, if you're sure..."

"I'm sure."

"Consider it sorted," Marshall said, noting it down on a sheet of paper. "However, before you confirm your decision, there is one small matter we need to deal with..."

"What's that?" Hermione asked, leaning forward.

"I have a letter here," Marshall replied, waving a sheet of paper. "That I, er, inherited from Seneca Crane. It was written by a man called - if I'm pronouncing this right - Albus Dumbledore."

Hermione tensed in her seat.

"In this letter, he writes an opinion that I almost completely agree with. In a way similar to me, he wishes for you, or whoever else had won the Games, to return to Hogwarts and continue your life in Britain. However, also like me, he accepts that you may not want to return home with all the memories and experiences you now have, and wishes you luck in whatever you choose to do; it is, after all, your choice whether you stay in Panem or not."

"I don't know what to say..." Hermione had really hoped that she didn't have to make this choice so soon.

"Don't worry, you don't have to make your decision now," Marshall continued. "He wants to see whoever won the Games, to understand what has happened and decide what would be best for you from there. I'm sure that, after all, Albus Dumbledore knows you far better than anyone here in the Capitol does."

"So I'm going back?" Hermione asked. Suddenly doing anything so soon felt like a big step.

"Yes," Marshall nodded, reaching underneath his desk to pick up a book that Hermione recognised clearly; it was a book on the uses of dragon's blood that Dumbledore had been offering her when she realised it was a Portkey. It was her ticket back to Hogwarts. Hermione reached out towards it tentatively.

"Hermione," Marshall said, drawing her attention as she reached for the book. "Take your time, and do whatever is right for you. I'll be waiting right here for you to return with your decision."

Hermione nodded, suddenly nervous. A month ago, she knew so clearly what she wanted to do with her life. After everything she had seen, she now had two clear paths and needed to make a decision.

Hermione the witch, or Hermione the victor.

The only way she could decide would be by going back to Hogwarts.

As Marshall looked on, Hermione reached for the book and grasped it, feeling the usual tug behind her navel as she was pulled away from the Capitol.

She was going home.

A/N: This ended up becoming the longest chapter I've ever written on this site... If it ended up becoming a little disjointed, that's possibly why.

If you enjoyed this chapter, please review! We're so close to the end, but constructive criticism can always help me go back and improve this fic in small ways :)

P.S. There's just the epilogue left now, where Hermione returns to Hogwarts and makes the decision about her future... What do you all think she should do? :)