The Parade
“Quit fidgeting,” Blaise told Theo in a quiet drawl as they rode the elevator down to the underground floor together.
Theo, probably just to be contrary, fidgeted more.
“I’m itchy,” he said plainly with a look of disgust for his costume. “This is such b—”
“Beautiful work from our designer?” Blaise said, raising his brow in a silent and pointed reminder of where they were. Not just where they were, but who was listening. “A blessing to receive? Which is it, Theodore?”
Theo picked up on Blaise’s reminder of the cameras in the panel of the elevator. The reminder of the weight of the Capitol. Theo’s face cleared instantly and he plastered his bored mask of apathy on.
“We do look brilliant,” Theo said. His fingers were still itching beneath the tunic he wore, the maroon match to Blaise’s own navy tunic. They were embellished with silver designs to play off Theo’s dark eyes and Blaise’s dark skin.
Pretty princes to go battle for their lives.
Kill the other tributes for the glory of Panem.
A gory necessity.
“Ready?” Theo asked when they exited the elevator and walked the short corridor that led to where their mentor instructed them to go.
Blaise took a deep breath and smiled widely, a glittering thing that was meant to charm others.
“Ready.”
Theo abandoned Blaise while they stood in the open area filled with tributes and carriages. There were a few mentors, plenty of peacekeepers with deadly weapons strapped to their chests, and children.
It was difficult to look at some of the other tributes and not see children.
Blaise stroked the nuzzle of the horse that would pull the carriage for himself and Theo while Theo sat in the carriage and inspected their competition.
Blaise did as well, he merely did it subtly.
There was Draco and Pansy from District 1. Their designer clearly wanted to play off Pansy’s haughty look and Draco’s regal features. They wore long gowns of silver, a perfect King and Queen. Vincent and Crabbe were two more worthy opponents; they wore sleeveless shirts and trousers cut to show as much muscle as possible.
Theo was worried about the boys from District 2, Blaise was not.
Brawn without brain would win nothing, as Juliana told Blaise many times.
The girls from District 4, with their outfits made to make them look like innocent schoolgirls - glasses, pleated skirts, and braids - were much more threatening to Blaise than District 2.
There were a few others of interest- the identically dressed twins from 5 who were making jokes and causing the others around them to laugh. Anyone charismatic enough to make a tribute laugh on parade day would be earning sponsors. As would the beautiful girl from 10. Though, perhaps not—
“This is fucking stupid and if one more person touches my hair I’m going to start the games now.”
Blaise and Theo exchanged a quick look of surprise before Blaise turned his face in search of the face to match the furious snarl.
There.
Oh.
Blaise’s eyes lit up as they did when he saw any beautiful thing. The boy from 12, the one who hadn’t gallantly volunteered for a girl, was just as beautiful as the flowers in Blaise’s garden at home.
Harry, his name was. Son of the 2nd place tribute in a Hunger Games, godson of the mentor for District 12. Severus had warned Blaise and Theo to watch out for him - surely his godfather knew that with a double tie to the games, Harry would inevitably be chosen one day. Severus believed Harry had been training his whole life.
Blaise suddenly disagreed.
Harry stood tall, a diminutive height that was hardly noticeable with the fire radiating from his body language. He was glaring daggers at the woman who had been touching his dark black curls, his designer, Blaise presumed.
He was lovely, that was obvious. He was dressed in a rich black tuxedo with a golden tie that brought out his green eyes as much as the winged eyeliner and golden eyeshadow he wore did. His fellow District tribute, Neville, was dressed identically and yet held none of Harry’s shine.
A perfect little golden boy with a mouth that was still running.
“Who cares if I look pretty? I don’t want their money, I don’t want their cheers. I’d burn the whole damn city to the ground if I could.”
The other tributes and mentors looked at Harry as if he were saying anything that they hadn’t thought before. They were inching away from him, only Neville staying beside him.
Blaise moved closer, truly delighted.
“That’s an interesting look,” he said, drawing those furious eyes to himself. Blaise smiled brightly, truly eager to smile at this boy. “Blaise Zabini, District 3.”
Harry’s upper lip curled which only piqued Blaise’s interest more.
“Whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested,” Harry snapped. He stood his ground as Blaise approached, but only just. He raised his chin and inspected Blaise’s outfit down his nose.
An impressive feat since he stood half a head beneath Blaise.
“I suppose it could have been worse after all,” Harry told Neville while sneering at Blaise’s costume. “We could have been in that.”
Neville chuckled and Blaise wondered if District 12 was suicidal. Surely they didn’t arrive and plan on isolating possible allies from the start.
“If it were up to Malkin, we’d be wearing flames,” Neville told Harry. “I’ll take a tux over flames any day.”
“Flames?” Blaise asked, interested despite himself.
“They tried to make us wear capes made of fire,” Neville said, clearly the more amicable, and less interesting, of the duo. “Harry told them no and they did this instead.”
Blaise looked at Harry’s face and tried to recall how it looked during his reaping. Surely it had been more scarred, before he’d been made over and polished as the others. But with the rich tuxedo and the golden makeup, the Capitol designers took him from another starving child to a regal and indifferent prince.
One who resented the crown rather than embraced it as Draco did.
Blaise smiled and winked at Harry when a peacekeeper called for tributes to enter their carriages.
“For the record, I think flames would suit you very well,” he drawled. “Good luck, Harry, perhaps I’ll kill you last.”
It really was a shame that he would be forced to compete against, and possibly snuff the life out of, such a pretty thing. Blaise always hated destroying beautiful things.
But what Panem wanted, Panem got.
Blaise didn't get the chance to hear Harry's reply, as at that moment all of the champions were ushered to their carriages for good. Blaise threw one last look behind him at the beautiful boy with fire in his eyes - he didn't need flaming clothes to bring out the fire in him - before he joined Theo in their carriage. With the music starting up, and Draco and Pansy in the lead, their horses started galloping forward.
The Capitol crowd lining the red paved sidewalk they traveled were instantly on their feet, cheering loudly, shouting the names of their favorite tributes, and throwing things at them as they passed.
Blaise raised a hand and waved regally at his admirers, smiling winningly at all the painted faces gazing at him with awe and desire clear to see in their eyes. The cheers kicked up a notch at that and Blaise let his smile stretch even wider. Next to him, Theo forced a smile on his face that managed to look genuine only thanks to the years of training he'd undertaken specifically for that very moment, but otherwise remained still as the carriage pulled them further.
"Ladies and gentlemen, look at that!" the announcer exclaimed over the speakers, barely an octave or two louder than the screaming spectators. Gilderoy Lockhart in all his glitzy and colorful glory. "It looks like this year's designers have forgone the tradition of showcasing each District's traits!"
"Right you are, Gilderoy," said Lockhart's partner, none other than Ludo Bagman - the most insufferable man Blaise had ever met, surpassed only by Lockhart himself. "But I can't say I'm too mad about that. I mean, look at them! I don't know who to watch first." Bagman and Lockhart's chuckles were echoed by the rest of the audience.
"District 1 is really going for the crown this year, aren't they?" noted Lockhart, and Blaise had to fight really hard not to roll his eyes at the terrible pun. In response to the presenter's comment, Blaise could see Draco and Pansy puffing up their chests ahead of him, raising their heads haughtily and waving beatifically at their fans.
"District 10 isn't that far behind on the royal scale, though," Bagman tacked on, whistling in a way that was truly disgusting. "Fleur Delacour, while donning a simple white dress, is bound to catch the eye of many a sponsor tonight, Gilderoy."
"Right you are, Ludo. It seems like the stylists have unanimously decided to bring out each tribute's natural beauty this year, by all means necessary."
Blaise tuned out the commentary for a moment after that. Instead, he redirected his attention towards the cameras as well as the stands, shooting them winks and brilliantly attractive smiles, never one to neglect his enraptured audience. He was vaguely aware of Bagman commenting on the color of Parvati's dress when Lockhart gasped loudly enough to startle everyone in attendance.
"Oh, my, look at District 12, Ludo! Our very own Harry Potter. Doesn't he look just dashing with that eyeliner and that suit?"
As Blaise's carriage reached the end of the parade and turned to face the direction they'd come from, Blaise got a perfect view of Harry standing with Neville by his side, spine straight and a delicious, indifferent glower on his face as his carriage rode along. Neville was doing his best to endear himself to the audience, smiling and waving at the passing people with that innocent and bashful thing he had going on - Blaise supposed there were worse approaches when it came to getting people to like you - but even while doing nothing, Harry still managed to steal the show.
“He looks just like James—”
“But with his mothers eyes!”
"He could stand to smile some more, though. A famous name alone won't get him too far, I'm afraid," Bagman replied.
Blaise wasn't too sure about that. Judging by the excited cheers and various roses thrown at the District 12 carriage, he supposed that moody and smoldering rebels had a certain flair or charm to them that drew people in and made them crave more. After all, there was nothing juicier or more entertaining than seeing an aloof and distant face crack wide open and spill all over the floor for all to see.
Once all the carriages came to a stop and arranged themselves into a pretty picture, the crowds settled down somewhat. Blaise made an effort to take his eyes off Harry - it wouldn't do for the cameras to catch him staring and for the two idiots in the interviewer's box to blow things out of proportion - and let them trail upwards towards the balcony where all the important people stayed. And the most important of them all was currently on his feet, looking down at this year's sacrifices with a benign smile on his bearded face and a glint in his blue eyes.
President Dumbledore raised a hand and quieted the audience before he opened his mouth.
"Welcome, tributes, to our country's delightful Capitol. Your sacrifice is appreciated and we wish you happy Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favor."
The audience was at once back on their feet, clapping and whistling, cheering and smiling, while President Dumbledore took a step back from the ledge and watched over the once again moving carriages with a pleased twinkle in his eyes. Blaise's carriage lurched as the horses started pulling on it again, and the District 3 boys were on the move once more, back to smiling and waving for their spectators, back to acting like slightly more attractive circus monkeys for their handlers, lustful for carnage and tragedy.
Only after climbing in the temporary safety of his bed, hidden in the dark with a pillow over his face, did Blaise allow his smile to drop.
Kill for glory.
What Panem wanted, Panem got.
Blaise thought perhaps Harry had gotten lucky having a dead tribute for a parent, he would never understand the pressure of having a Victor raise him to slaughter.