Dynasty

        As Sirius made the short trek to the incredibly lavish dining car, he dreaded the inevitable confrontation that would occur between him and the other tributes, namely Bellatrix. He knew it would happen, he just was not in the mood to sit through another one of his crazed cousin’s infamous tirades. Lucky me, He thought to himself. 

        The car itself was rather well furnished; it seemed that the Capitol had spared no expense, though this was to be expected. A rather grandiose chandelier dangled threateningly above everyone’s heads. There was a long, rectangular dining table surrounded by seven chairs with cushions that were undoubtedly worth more than a District Twelve tribute’s life. The table itself was fashioned out of rich mahogany and seemed to take up much more of the room than it actually did. Set up on the table, there was much more food than the car’s nine occupants could possibly eat in one sitting, each dish more decadent than the last. 

        A few meters away from the table sat two couches that reminded Sirius of home somehow, a small side table, and a television. It was obvious that this would be where they all watched the other Reaping ceremonies that had just occurred. 

        Sirius steeled his expression as he walked into the car and sat down at the table, seemingly without a care in the world. He nodded at his brother who regarded him with nothing more than a guarded stare. 

         The former Victor looked at the plethora of foodstuffs on the table before staring at this year’s tributes. “Go on,” he said with a bit of a laugh. “Eat while you can.”

         Each tribute grabbed what they wanted from the veritable buffet of selections, before wolfing it down. Evidently, no one had eaten today. The meal was eaten in complete silence, a small yet appreciated reprieve from what was to come. 

         Once each tribute’s plate was cleared, Regulus apparently decided that it was time to get down to business. “I think some introductions are in order.” He stated. “I am Regulus Arcturus Black; Victor of the forty-ninth Hunger Games. I killed all but one career on the first night when their guards were down.”

         A woman cleared her throat. She was gorgeous; that was the only way to describe her. With the trademark ebony curls and eyes of liquid steel, Andromeda Tonks (née Black) was a vision. She was also Sirius’ favorite cousin; the lesser of three evils, really. She was smart as a whip and kind to boot. She simultaneously infuriated Sirius to no end and was one of his favorite people. 

        Andromeda tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “As you all may know, I am Andromeda Tonks. I won the fortieth Hunger Games when I shot Gerald Greene, my district partner, in the eye with an arrow.”

        Bellatrix scoffed. “Yes, sister, we know who you both are. Both you and my dearest cousin hold our lives in your ‘capable’  hands.”

        Andromeda was clearly uncomfortable as she squirmed beneath her sister’s molten gaze. 

        “That’s right. We do,” Regulus jumped in. “So be careful and do everything we say to the letter. There are only two of us and four of you, so make one mistake and I may just focus on one of you. It would certainly make my job easier. Now, let’s watch the Reapings.” 

         Surprisingly, both Dolores and Bellatrix had been relatively quiet up to this point and Sirius wasn’t about to push his luck. The seven of them sat down to watch the Reapings, sizing each tribute up. Some remarks like “She’ll be dead in the Bloodbath” and “He could be a threat” were thrown out, but Sirius remained silent. It wasn’t until they got to the Reaping for District Twelve that things got interesting. 

        The girls were nothing out of the ordinary; scared, small, weak. The same went for the first boy. It was the second boy that actually volunteered that got Sirius’ attention. 

          Tall. That was the first word that entered Sirius’ mind. Damn, that guy was tall. He easily towered over his other fellow tributes. He had this look of defiance in his eyes that Sirius had never seen before and would never see again; it certainly intrigued him, though “intrigued” didn’t seem like the right word. It fascinated him. It was when the boy looked directly into the camera that Sirius felt his heart leap into his throat. The boy was stunning. Mousy brown locks fell over his hazel eyes that Sirius swore turned golden when the light hit them just right. Those eyes seemed to stare into Sirius’ very soul; he felt oddly naked as he looked at this ancient Greek god. And people thought Sirius was handsome. His face was littered with scars; the biggest ones cut across his nose and cheeks, while Sirius’ personal favorite traveled from the outer half of his left- no, right eyebrow to his mouth. Oh, that mouth. Those lips looked like they would only tell the sweetest of lies and Sirius would be happy to believe them. Those lips could tell Sirius to fall on a sword and he would be too happy to oblige. 

        Sirius knew he was in deep, deep trouble when the boy opened that gorgeous mouth. A lilty baritone filtered from his throat that sounded and tasted like the most delicious poison. He would do anything Remus Lupin asked, and that was a problem. 

        Sirius had just learned who the biggest threat in the entire Hunger Games was. It was one Remus Lupin, who volunteered to “wipe that stupid grin” off the District Twelve escort’s face.

        Remus Lupin, Sirius thought to himself, you need to be eliminated. Immediately.