In Love And War

chapter 1 ~ harry

another disclaimer, im not gonna make the whole story the hunger games like some of the fanfics i've seen. there's going to be a lot set in the districts, and in the Capitol, in fact i'm planning on writing ten chapters about what happens before the game actually begins, so if you'd rather read a book thats just fighting and all in the arena, maybe skip this one. also, the characters in this chapter won't be very familiar, only Harry, Terry Boot, Michael Corner and Romilda Vane as people you know, but people like Ron, Hermione and Draco will be there in chapters to come.

have fun :) 

'THWACK!' An arrow sails through the air, curving downwards and lodging itself into a squirrel. It pins the struggling creature to the floor. The forest is lazily quiet for a few moments, punctuated by the squirrel's squeaks of protestation. A rustling, and the noise of crunching leaves. The squirrel slumps, defeated in a sticky pool of blood.

'Not, on the whole, one of the most pleasant sights I've ever seen,' grimaces Harry Potter, clumping his way towards the now deceased animal's place of rest. 'Why does it have to bleed so much? Bit melodramatic, don't you think?

'Doesn't bleed nearly as much as when you snag a human.' Says a dark voice, and a second boy walks to admire the kill. 'Not bad! There's still quite a bit of meat left. I can give this to the Vane's, maybe their daughters can put on a few pounds before tomorrow. Potter, can you clean this?'

Before he's had a second to think, the dead squirrel is slapped onto Harry's hand. His stomach lurches as the blood trickles down his wrists, seeping into his sleeve and darkening his shirt. He looks up indignantly, to find that his companion has already clumped off in the other direction, much more heavy footed now that he isn't worried about alerting the animals of their presence.

'Terry-' Harry starts.

'What.'

'I- Um, I'm not exactly sure how to clean an animal'

'Seriously Potter, do you have any use at all?' asks Terry, but he's smiling. 'Look, I'll give it to Ella and her family to clean when we get back. God knows they need it.'

Harry feels the familiar pang of guilt that comes whenever Ella or Terry's wealth, or lack thereof, is mentioned. The usual self justification kicks in, reminding him that he didn't choose to be stuck in the wealthiest house in District 12, and that as someone who could be chosen for the Hunger Games the very next day, it wasn't like he didn't have problems either.

                                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry had never seen the house so quiet. Calling it a house in the first place was stretching the truth to breaking point, more a two and a half roomed structure, held up partly by clay, and partly by mud. But whenever he and his friends gathered around the flimsy table, there was usually genuine laughter, fun, happiness. He had come to associate these rare moments of pleasure to Ella's home. It was the one place in District 12 where he could count on feeling welcome. 

But today, no one was even trying. Terry was being his usual moping self, which was unsurprising. Harry had seen Ella Vane and Mae Corner down before, when things were particularly bad for their families or friends. But the phenomenon was occurring in Michael Corner, Mae's twin brother, the literal ray of sunshine in their group of friends. Never had Harry seen Michael this subdued. Even when he was at rock bottom he would do as much as he could to cheer everyone, especially Mae, up. 

Harry took in his friends' faces. The hard curve of Terry's chin, Michael's bright, bright grey eyes, Mae's limply hanging black hair, tickling her lower back. And Ella. His best friend and confidant. Her light brown waves of hair, and sad, full green eyes, slightly chapped lips, chalk white complexion interrupted by a few pimples and freckles. This might be the last chance he had to talk to one, or even two of them freely. 

Because tomorrow was the reaping. 

Back when there was a war between Panem and the Capitol, the latter had sent the 12 Districts into poverty, to provide the Capitol with supplies. Every year, each district had to provide 2 children, a boy and a girl, from the ages of 12 - 18,  to compete in an arena, to the death. Named the Hunger Games.

And tomorrow, two names would be drawn from the box of slips, one girl and one boy, to go to the Capitol. Unlikely to ever be seen again. 

But there was a catch. While you put in your name once at the age of twelve, twice at the age of thirteen and so on, you could sign up for tesserae, which is extra grain and oil supply for your family in exchange for your name submitted more and more times.

And Ella Vane, who's family was drowning in poverty, had her name in the ballot 21 times. 15 more times than Harry's name was in. He already had to submit himself 4 times, and though his aunt and uncle, the mayor of District 12 and her husband, and their son Dudley were all in no need of tesserae, they had forced Harry to put his name in two more times, for the 'struggle' he had apparently caused them. 

Was it his fault that his mother had died of starvation? That his father had been blown up in an explosion in the mines? That his only living family was with Mayor Dursley, her fat, ungrateful husband and her spoilt son?

He had grown up being told that it was.

'Hi Harry!'

Everyone around the table looked up bleakly. A girl skipped into the 'room', swishing her long, black, wavy hair around and beaming perfectly. Romilda Vane was rarely one for subtlety. Ella's younger sister was in for the reaping the next day too, her name replicated ten times in the ballot box. But Romilda never really seemed to know when she was in danger, let alone her family, or her friends. Self-absorbed and adored, she pranced around like a ballerina, never hunting for food like Ella, or taking care of her younger siblings like their wheelchair confined mother. Just doing the bare minimum to keep herself alive, obliviously blocking out all things like providing for her family, which she deemed unnecessary. Always caring most about her friends at school, and which boys (or girls for that matter), thought she was pretty. 

Currently, and to his great embarrassment, Romilda's pursuit was Harry. Flicking her hair mesmerizingly, she would beam out of those full lips that never seemed to chap from hunger, and wink a long eye-lashed eye in his direction. 

This could have made any other boy in the district swoon. But Harry had never cared for her, much. 

'Hi Romilda.' He deadpanned, not bothering to mould his face into a smile. 

Harry's eyes flicked around the room, to Ella's tightly pursed lips and Michael's expression of trying to bite back a laugh, Mae, who was rolling her eyes and Terry, who was glaring in disbelief at Romilda's nonchalant don't care expression. He couldn't bear it. Finding himself standing up, he was out of the room and half way across the mud splattered street before he knew what he was doing.

Only when he reached home, did he realise how much he didn't want to be alone.

1125 words :)

it wasn't great im sorry and it was probably and information overload but yk i might keep going cos i feel like it