Violent Delights

Harry stood next to Ginny, taking her hand in his own when he noticed her trembling.

“You’ll be fine Gin. Your chances are still pretty low.” They flowed with the crowd to the square where the reaping would take place, a rough affair with many jostling shoulders.

“They aren't that low, Harry. My name is in there four times.”

All Harry could do was squeeze her hand again. His own name was in the drawing at least twenty times. Normally, at sixteen he’d only have his name in the reaping five times, but the Weasley's had taken Harry in after his parents' deaths and with their horde of children Harry felt responsible for contributing somehow. So, he’d signed for the tesserae system numerous times, trading his name in the reaping for a pound of food.

Ron was silent beside him as they neared the town square. Harry knew that Ron had done the same on a few occasions. Food was scarce in district 12. Ron had turned that sickly green color he always did when he was scared, and his eyes were trained resolutely on the ground. The twins walked further ahead, talking under their breath to one another. It was their last year of the reaping.

Before the boys and girls were separated Ginny wrapped Harry in a tight embrace. Harry hugged her back just as tightly. He could still see Ginny shaking when she pulled away, but she put on a brave face as she turned her away.

“Come on, Harry.” Ron pulled him along. Harry was just ready for the nightmare to be over, to go home with the Weasley's and celebrate another year of survival. He glanced at the twins. It must be nice knowing it was the last time you’d have to attend a reaping.

Fred and George waved goodbye and wished them luck before joining the older boys.

“How many slips do you have?” Ron asked quietly, not looking at Harry.

“I’m not sure. More than five.”

Ron nodded solemnly, looking for a moment like he might be sick.

“I’ve got a real bad feeling about this one, Harry.”

Harry placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled him to stand face to face.

“Ron. Whatever happens, we’re in it together. Just like always, right?” Ron nodded, swallowing hard.

They turned to the stage as the announcer tapped at the microphone.

“Welcome! Welcome! To the fourth quarter quell! The 100th Hunger Games, what a momentous occasion! I, Gilderoy Lockhart,” He paused as if waiting for applause that never came. “Will be announcing the lucky participants from district 12. But first a word, straight from the capitol!” He waved an arm at the giant screens framing the stage. A video played, the same as every year, and Harry ignored it. Gilderoy was brightly dressed as all people from the capitol were. His suit shimmery and brilliantly blue with a long tail that trailed the floor. Harry couldn't quite figure out what was on his head, but it looked like a giant flower.

Harry turned to the girls, scanning for a head of fiery red but he couldn't spot Ginny in the crowd. The video came to an end and Gilderoy grinned broadly at the square.

“Inspiring, isn't it? Now the time has come to choose a lucky boy and girl for our fourth Quarter Quell! As always, ladies first.” He winked and reached for the glass bowl. There was a sickening pause for dramatics where it felt like all of the oxygen had been sucked from the air. 

“Ginevra Weasley!” Harry's stomach flipped. Next to him, Ron leaned over to dry heave.

He could see Ginny now; the sea of girls had all parted for her and she stood in the middle looking lost. Mrs. Weasleys wail of grief cut through the silence in the square, and Harry watched Ginny straighten her back and walk swiftly to the stage.

Gilderoy patted her on the back with a grin and Harry clenched his fists. Ginny's face was stony, her brave mask back in place and Harry had a brief spark of hope. A tiny voice saying, maybe she could win. She's more capable than the lot of us.

“And now for the boys!” Harrys nails cut into his palms as Gilderoy withdrew a slip and unfolded it.

“Ronald Weasley!” And then Ron did puke, and Harry's mind buzzed behind his ears, a droning white noise. Mrs. Weasleys sobbing was muffled as Harry stepped out into the pathway. His body moved before his mind had time to catch up.

“I volunteer.” His voice had come out too softly and the guards were trying to push him back in line.

  “I volunteer as tribute! I’ll take his place! I volunteer!”

“Harry…”

Harry stared resolutely ahead. The guards pushed him roughly towards the stage and Ginny was waiting with tears running down her cheeks. Harry wanted to pull her into a hug, but they needed to look strong right now, the other tributes would be watching. Oh God.

“What a fascinating development!” Gilderoy wrapped an arm around Harrys shoulders, and Harry wanted to sock him in his stupidly perfect teeth. “What is your name, young man?”

He unclenched his jaw. “Harry Potter.”

“Can Harry here get a round of applause for his act of selflessness?”

The town square was silent, and Harry scanned the crowd, locking eyes with Fred who slowly raised his hand in a three-finger salute. George followed and soon the whole square had their hands raised to him in thanks and in love. Harry choked back his tears, raising his own hand in return.

And then Harry was being pulled back and away from everything he’d ever known.