The Cave
The room was adorned with the fragrance of white roses as Tom Riddle meticulously cut the stems, each motion deliberate and measured. Gellert Grindelwald observed him with a casual interest, leaning against a nearby table.
"So, you like an underdog?" Tom inquired, breaking the silence.
"Everyone likes an underdog," Gellert replied, his gaze fixed on the roses.
"I don't," Tom stated matter-of-factly. He continued his task, the sharp blade slicing through the air.
"Have you been out there? 10, 11, 12?" Tom asked, his eyes never leaving the task at hand.
"Not personally, no," Gellert admitted, maintaining his composed demeanour.
"Well, I have," Tom declared, a hint of pride in his voice. "There are lots of underdogs, lots of coal, too. They grow crops, minerals, things we need. There are lots of underdogs," he continued, his words carrying a weight of experience.
Gellert listened attentively, absorbing Tom's perspective on the districts.
"And I think if you could see them, you would not root for them either," Tom concluded, finally looking up from the roses.
Gellert met Tom's gaze, the unspoken understanding lingering between them. The room, filled with the delicate scent of roses, held a tension as the two powerful figures exchanged their thoughts.
"I like you," Tom admitted, a rare compliment from the reserved young man.
Gellert offered a small smile. "Be careful," Tom warned, the sharp edge of his words cutting through the air.
The announcement echoed through the arena, a sudden shift in the rules that caught Sirius off guard. "Attention, tributes, attention. The regulations requiring a single victor have been suspended. From now on, two victors may be crowned if both originate from the same district. This will be the only announcement," the voice declared, leaving Sirius to process the unexpected change.
"Gideon," Sirius whispered, the name escaping his lips as he absorbed the implications of the new rule. It was a glimmer of hope, a possibility for them both to emerge victorious.
Determined, Sirius rose from his sombre moment, leaving the makeshift memorial for Theo behind. He made his way down to the riverbank, where he had sought solace before. The gentle murmur of the water provided a backdrop to his thoughts.
As Sirius approached the river, his eyes caught something unusual on the rocks—a stain that seemed to resemble either blood or paint. He couldn't discern its origin, but the sight added an eerie tension to the atmosphere.
Before he could fully process the mysterious stain, something unexpected happened. A sudden grip on his leg startled Sirius, and he instinctively recoiled. However, as he looked down, he realised it was Gideon's hand that had grabbed him. The disguise was so effective that Gideon blended seamlessly with the rocks.
"Oh my god! Gideon! Gideon!" Sirius exclaimed, a mix of relief and surprise coursing through him.
Sirius gently removed the rocks and grass that concealed Gideon, revealing his friend's face. As they locked eyes, a mixture of relief and concern played across their expressions. Without hesitation, Sirius pulled Gideon into a tight embrace, as if confirming that they were both still present in this dangerous game.
"Hey, it's okay," reassured Gideon, his voice a mix of pain and gratitude.
Sirius, however, couldn't ignore the cut on Gideon's leg. "What was it?" he asked, a note of worry in his voice.
"A sword," Gideon replied, downplaying the severity of the wound. "It's bad, huh?" he added.
"It's gonna be fine," Sirius insisted, his determination clear in his eyes.
Gideon called Sirius's name, and Sirius responded with an unwavering, "No! I'm not gonna leave you. I'm not gonna do that."
Helping Gideon to his feet, Sirius provided support with an arm around Gideon's waist as he hopped on his uninjured leg. Together, they embarked on a quest to find shelter, eventually stumbling upon a cave that offered refuge.
"Nobody's gonna find you in here," Sirius assured Gideon, guiding him inside.
"They already found me," Gideon admitted, acknowledging the harsh reality of the situation.
"We'll just get you some medicine," Sirius insisted, refusing to accept defeat. Determination flickered in his eyes.
"Sirius, I don't get many parachutes," Gideon confessed.
"We'll figure something out," Sirius said, his determination unwavering.
Gideon looked at him sceptically. "Like what?" he asked, unsure of what plan Sirius had in mind.
"Something," Sirius replied cryptically, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. With a light-hearted touch, he gave Gideon a peck on the cheek, a small gesture of reassurance and affection.
In the quiet of the cave, Sirius noticed that Gideon had drifted off to sleep. Careful not to disturb him, Sirius made his way through the woods, clutching his bow and arrows as he approached the new supplies area. Paranoia crept into his senses, but the need for provisions overshadowed any fear.
As he reached the supplies, a parachute descended, carrying a note. Sirius unfolded the message, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "You call that a kiss? - H" The Capitol's attempts at romantic gestures never ceased to amuse him.
With the parachute in hand, Sirius headed back to the cave where Gideon lay. "Medicine?" Gideon asked, his voice weak.
"No. Soup," Sirius replied with a mischievous grin.
As Sirius prepared to feed Gideon, offering spoonfuls of warm soup, a moment of quiet intimacy unfolded. "Here, I'll do it," Gideon insisted, his gratitude evident.
But Sirius continued, feeding him with a tenderness that belied the harsh circumstances. "That's nice," Gideon remarked, the warmth of their shared moments breaking through the bleakness of the Games.
"You fed me once," Sirius recalled, a flicker of nostalgia in his eyes.
"I think about that all the time," Gideon admitted, his voice carrying the weight of memories. "How I tossed you that bread."
Gideon's words hung in the air, a testament to the enduring impact of small acts of kindness in a world designed for cruelty. "I should have gone to you," Gideon confessed, the weight of regrets pressing on him.
Sirius, understanding the depth of Gideon's feelings, placed a comforting hand on his forehead. "You feel hot," he observed, the worry etching lines on his face.
"I remember the first time I saw you," Gideon continued.
That day stood out vividly in Gideon's memory. Sirius, with an air of effortless charisma, seemed to wear a different aura that caught Gideon's attention. Perhaps it was the way his hair fell in unruly waves, styled differently than usual, or the intensity in his gaze that hinted at an unspoken depth. In the midst of the mundane routine of daily life in District Twelve, Sirius stood out like a radiant star, drawing Gideon's eyes and heart.
"I remember when you sang in the music assembly," Gideon confessed, the memory etched in his mind. "The teacher said, 'And you shot your hand straight up.'"
"Stop," Sirius interrupted, a playful grin on his face. Gideon, fueled by the courage summoned from deep within, shared a confession that had lingered unspoken for far too long. "After that, I watched you go home every day. Every day."
Gideon's revelation hung in the air, a vulnerable admission of the feelings that had quietly grown within him. "Well, say something," Gideon urged, a mixture of anticipation and nervousness in his voice.
"I'm not good at saying something," Sirius replied, his words a hesitant admission of his own vulnerability.
"Then come here," Gideon invited, his voice a gentle plea. "Please," he added, a whisper carrying the weight of unspoken emotions.
Without further hesitation, Sirius shifted from his position, resting his head on Gideon's chest. It was a silent acknowledgment, a shared moment of understanding that transcended the need for words. Gideon's heart beat steadily beneath Sirius's ear, a reassuring rhythm that echoed the unspoken connection between them.
"Even if I don't make it..." Gideon began, a hint of sadness in his tone.
"Shush," Sirius interjected, moving his hand up Gideon's chest to emphasise the need for silence. "Stop it," he insisted.
The soft hum of the holographic announcement pierced through the otherwise silent cave, stirring Sirius and Gideon from their restless sleep. The bluish glow of the projection cast an ethereal light in the confined space, illuminating their worn faces and the makeshift camp they had established in the arena.
"Attention, tributes. Commencing at sunrise, there will be a feast tomorrow at cornucopia. This will be no ordinary occasion. Each of you needs something desperately. And we plan to be generous hosts," echoed the voice of the Capitol, its grandiosity contrasting sharply with the harsh reality of the Games.
Gideon stirred beside Sirius, the weight of the impending decision settling in the lines of his face. Their eyes met, conveying unspoken understanding and shared concern. Sirius, with a determination etched on his features, broke the silence.
"You need medicine," he stated, his voice carrying a mix of urgency and conviction. Gideon nodded, acknowledging the truth in Sirius's words.
"You're not going alone," Gideon asserted, his tone infused with a protective resolve. Sirius met his gaze, refusing to yield to the concern in Gideon's eyes.
"Yeah? You need it, and you can't walk," Sirius retorted, his stubbornness matching Gideon's determination. The air between them crackled with the unspoken tension, the impending decision looming over them.
"Sirius, you're not going to risk your life for me. I'm not gonna let you," Gideon protested, his frustration and worry surfacing. Sirius, however, remained resolute.
"You would do it for me. Wouldn't you?" Sirius questioned, his eyes searching Gideon's for confirmation. Gideon hesitated, caught in the unspoken bond they shared as tributes in the Hunger Games.
"Why are you doing this?" Gideon finally asked, seeking an answer to the selflessness Sirius was displaying. Without uttering a word, Sirius leaned down, bridging the space between them, and pressed his lips to Gideon's.
The kiss was a testament to the emotions swirling within them – a mixture of fear, love, and defiance against the cruelty of the Games. Sirius's lips lingered against Gideon's.
I apologize for any confusion. Let's incorporate those elements into the scene:
In the middle of the day, Sirius noticed Gideon shivering. Concern etched on his face, Sirius left the cave, determined to obtain the medicine from the upcoming feast. Hiding in the bushes near the Cornucopia, he observed the numbered backpacks on the table—2, 7, 11, 12.
As Sirius leaped out from the bushes, he was startled to see the same girl from District 7 grabbing her bag and sprinting away. Undeterred, Sirius headed for the table, swiftly grabbing the number 12 bag. However, his path was intercepted by Alex from District 11, who hurled a knife in his direction.
Sirius narrowly dodged the knife, but it grazed his forehead, leaving a mark. Determined to secure the medicine, Sirius aimed his bow at Alex, firing twice, but both shots missed. In the ensuing struggle, Alex tackled Sirius to the ground, their bodies entangled in the fierce dance of survival.
"Where's lover boy?" Alex sneered, malicious intent in his eyes. "I see, you were gonna help him, right? Well, that's sweet. You know, it's too bad you couldn't help your little friend. That little boy? What was his name again? Theo? Yeah, well, we killed him. And now we're gonna kill you too."
Their wrestle continued, the arena floor cold and unforgiving beneath them. Sirius fought to break free, to escape the clutches of his adversary. In the midst of the struggle, Alex attempted to use a knife, prompting Sirius to use his arms to resist the attack.
It was at this critical juncture that the older boy from District 2 intervened, slamming Alex against the wall of the arena monument after hearing his confession of killing Theo and seconds later a lifeless body of Alex was on the ground.
"Just this time, 12, for Theo." said the boy from district 2 that Sirius recognised and they both ran in opposite directions.