Chapter Text
“Draco…”
Draco felt a hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes to see himself sitting in that chair in his father’s office, his father standing behind him.
“You failed me.”
There was a giggle, and Luna was in front of him, dragging a dead Harry behind her. She dropped his hand and extracted a knife from the dark. “I promised you a peaceful death, remember?” and with a quick flash of steel, Draco's throat was slit.
The cold woke Draco from his nightmare. He was violently shivering, and kept his eyes closed in a stubborn protest to fall back asleep. He didn't. Well, maybe no sleep is better than whatever that dream was… he thought, rubbing his eyes, the dream already fading from his memory.
He sat up, hair disheveled. He ran a hand through it. It must look absolutely terrible. If he managed to get out of the Games, Pansy would make fun of him for the rest of their lives. He wouldn't blame her.
Careful not to bump his head against the jagged ceiling of the rock that made their haven, Draco shifted to look at Harry, who was lying on his back and also shivering despite the sleeping bag Draco laid atop him the night before. He lifted it to look at the wound. The bandages on his arm were stained brown. The bleeding must have stopped overnight. Thank god.
Draco grabbed another bar from the bag and ate half of it, wrapping the rest back up for later. He wrapped his arms around himself and looked at Harry again. His hair was flopped up unnaturally, putting that bizarre little scar on full display.
Draco's teeth were chattering now. It was still pretty dark out. It must be early morning. He came to the realization that the only way they could get warmer was by sharing body heat. He huffed. Not only would that be incredibly awkward, but Harry was also extremely dirty.
Way to call the kettle black, Draco thought, examining himself. There were spots of dried blood all over his clothing, from both his and Harry's wounds. Dirt clung to his butt and thighs from sliding down the ground yesterday, and that's right, that mud was from careening headfirst into a tree after running from birds.
He sighed and lay on the ground on his side facing Harry, unsure of how to go about it. He laid the foil blanket on top of both of them.
He hadn't slept close to someone since he was young enough to have sleepovers with Pansy. I should definitely wake him up before touching him first. No, wait, if I wake him up now he probably won't fall back asleep. He's injured and needs his rest, too. Okay. Whatever.
Draco scooted in, trying to get close without getting too close, trying hard not to think about his mother who was hopefully not watching right now and definitely had already recognized Harry.
He stopped scooting once his hands, kept close to his chest, hit Harry's good arm. This is probably good enough , he thought as he closed his eyes. He doesn't smell terrible for someone who hasn't bathed in days...
When his eyes opened next, the space under the rock was considerably lighter. Draco sat up, noticing he wasn't nearly as cold as before. Harry was outside, cooking some meat on a small fire. Draco crawled out of the rock to meet him.
"Hey." Harry said, glancing up for a second. He was sitting on the ground, his knees to his chest with his bad arm wedged between them. His other arm held out a squirrel impaled on a stick. He had terrible eye bags.
"Good morning," Draco said, sitting next to him. "How did you manage to catch that squirrel?"
"It's not the first time I've hurt my arm and still had to get food. Squirrels are easy to get in Seven." Harry lifted the squirrel to his lips and gently blew on it.
Draco nodded. "Well, how is it? Your arm?"
Harry stood up and kicked dirt over the fire, putting it out. "It hurts." He sat back down and started to take bites out of the squirrel. He'd eaten about half when he handed it to Draco.
"Oh. Thank you." Draco said. He bit into it, recognizing immediately that Harry must have had to do this often for it to taste somewhat decent. Much juicier than his squirrel from days ago.
"Have you treated your finger or cuts at all since I did it?" Harry asked, turned to face Draco. Draco raised his eyebrows and finished the squirrel before answering.
"No, no. I didn't think to with everything that happened yesterday. I was so exhausted and it slipped my mind..." he examined the splint, which looked disgusting. The cuts he could see were also covered in dirt and it was hard to identify their status.
"Do you have any idea if there's water nearby? I should probably wash my cuts."
Harry shook his head. "At least not that I was able to find. And we can't use the water from the skin. We need that to drink."
Draco huffed. "What if they get infected?"
"You'll just have to wait until we find some water. We should probably get moving today anyway. Hopefully we stumble across something." Harry sighed, lying on the ground.
Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
His clothes were torn where the crows attacked him, his finger was broken, he hadn't had a proper meal in ages... and who knew how clean the water from the skin was.
And if what he heard was right, this was probably similar to how most of Panem lived. In a constant state of fear for their lives. Not knowing when their next meal was or if they'd be lucky enough to see next year. He opened his eyes.
"What would you do with the money?"
Harry sat up and scratched at his bandage. "I never really thought about that."
Draco looked at him. "You could do whatever you want... you could feed your family, get the nicest clothes..." he thought about his silk robe at home.
"Money is useless if you don't have anyone to save with it."
Draco closed his mouth and bit his cheek.
Harry sat up, a smirk on his face. "And what would you do with it? Perhaps buy another five ponies?"
Draco smiled awkwardly. "You ask me that as if I have a chance of winning. Also, we don't have ponies, Harry."
Harry feigned a gasp, his hand to his mouth. "Oh my, you can't even afford a pony? That's dreadful." he mocked.
"We do own several racehorses, though. With only the finest, most well-trained equestrians."
"Ah." Harry pursed his lips and stood up. He grabbed the bag and shuffled under the overhang, grabbing the sleeping bag and the blanket.
"What?"
"Did your big fancy Dad in your big fancy house ever think of how much just one of those horses would feed a family?" Harry came back out and put the bag down, spreading the blanket out with his hand.
"I don't think a racehorse would taste very good... with all those muscles and whatnot." Draco said in a sarcastic tone, trying to bring back the playful mood they had a second ago.
"Shut up. You know what I meant." Harry groaned when the blanket unfolded itself, the foil refusing to stay down.
"I don't... I don't think..." Draco struggled to come up with a defense.
"No, you didn't."
"Well, he just had his family's best interest at heart. I won't deny that there was nothing he could do, though..." Draco said in a high pitch.
Harry snorted, then swore when the blanket still wouldn't fold. He began to use his hurt arm but yelped in pain.
Draco got up. "I can do it."
Harry was gripping his arm. "Thanks."
Draco folded the blanket and sleeping bag and put them inside the bag. He put it on his shoulder.
"We should get walking."
They decided to go further down the mountain, where there would be more ground and less likely of a chance to run into someone else. While they walked in silence, Draco thought about his parents. Harry was right. Draco couldn't think of a single time Lucius ever gave money to the struggling people in Two. It went to investments, the production of weapons for the Capitol, and things like Draco's nice robe.
"You're right, Harry. About earlier. I can't think of any justification for my father not helping anybody."
Harry looked at him and smiled. "I guess to make a rich person feel sorry you just have to throw them into the Hunger Games with the rest of us."
Draco smiled back sadly.
A few moments passed and Draco spoke again. "Although I can't blame my mother. She gives everyone a chance. And Peacemakers make decent money."
"Seriously?" Harry shot. "You mean she gives everyone a chance to beat and murder their friends and family."
Draco was taken aback. He at least thought the Peacekeepers were well liked by the general public. A lot of the ones he knew in the Pike were good-hearted and intelligent, including Narcissa. They were harsh at times, but necessary figures in order to prevent chaos. He felt kind of hurt at this notion that Peacekeepers were nothing but violent, and he told Harry so.
Harry scoffed but then stopped walking for a second. "Well, I guess there are some good Peacekeepers," he looked at the sky for a second, then picked the pace back up. "But maybe the rest of them shouldn't be so bad if they want a better reputation."
"The audience isn't going to like what you're saying." Draco said, smiling cheekily.
"No, most of them are going to agree with me. The Capitol won't like what I'm saying. And that's why they're not going to air what we're saying right now."
They finally found the trail of a stream just as the fog above them was darkening. Draco laughed softly, putting down their bag to wash his face and hands and gargle. Harry refilled the skin, pouring some powder from a tube into it that would clean the water.
“Where should we set up camp?” Draco turned to Harry, feeling a lot fresher now that his cuts were washed out and not a speck of dirt could be seen on his unclothed skin.
“We shouldn’t set up camp right around here. People will follow the trail of the stream and might run into us if we do.” Harry said.
“Well, at least let me change your bandage before we move.” Draco offered. Harry nodded. Draco unwrapped his arm, Harry flinching at the sap pulling at his skin. Draco poured some water from the skin into a cupped hand and gently trickled it over the wound. Harry sighed.
When Draco finished wrapping his arm again, he picked the bag back up. Harry splashed his face and put more water into the skin. “Okay, let’s find somewhere to–”
A woman’s scream pierced Draco’s ears, too close by. Harry and Draco looked at each other with alarmed eyes.
Draco turned and began to head in the direction the scream came from, but Harry grabbed his wrist. “What the hell are you doing?” he said in a hushed tone.
“I want to see what’s going on,” Draco whispered. “Maybe we can help.”
“That’s crazy! We should be going in the opposite direction!” Harry said. “We’re in no condition to help anyone right now!”
“I don’t want to feel useless anymore.” Draco said, tugging his arm out of Harry’s grasp. He heard Harry groan and say something about him not being useless but followed him anyway.
When they heard a scream again, this time much closer, they crouched to the ground. He could just barely make out three figures in the darkening trees. Two tall, thin ones chased a smaller figure, which Draco figured was the one screaming. They were headed right toward them.
Panicking, Draco opened the bag and began to dig through it, looking for Harry’s knife, but was sent into the ground when the girl ran right into him, tripping over him. He felt the air leave his lungs.
Staggered breaths hit his ears for a few moments before the girl got up. “Please, please,” she whimpered as her assailants closed in on her. She scrambled over to Harry, who was looking back and forth between her and Draco, terrified. Draco now recognized her as Cho, and the others as Oliver and Cedric.
Cho moved behind Harry, shrinking herself against his back.
“Oh man, I haven’t seen these guys in ages,” Cedric panted as he slowed down, running a hand through his hair. “How’s it going? I’m surprised you lasted so long.” he motioned his axe towards Draco as he stood back up.
“Now, if you step aside, maybe we could all team up, and take out the others.” Cedric jerked his head at Cho, who was staring at them with alarmed eyes, blood running from a cut on her cheek, hair tousled.
“Hey, I don’t want to team up with that kid. He’s going to drag us down.” Oliver said, looking straight at Draco. “But Seven would be fine.”
Cedric laughed. “No, we’d just kill him right along with her.”
Draco’s flight or fight instincts kicked in, his heart racing. There was no way he could take on both of these guys. He whipped to the side to look at Harry, who was already staring at him. What if he said yes? What if this was the end?
Harry’s chest slowly rose and fell, and he looked calmly at Cedric and Oliver. “I’m good,” he said, eyebrows drawn in a scowl.
“That’s a terrible mistake if I’ve ever heard one.” Oliver frowned. His eyes jerked from Harry to right beside him as footsteps began to patter away, Cho making another run for it. She got about thirty feet away before she fell to the ground, Oliver having shot her with his crossbow. He sighed when her cannon didn’t boom right away.
“Gotta finish the job…” he marched toward her. Draco flinched as he heard the arrow being torn in and out of her skin, puncturing her several more times until the cannon went off. He kept his head turned away until he heard Harry cry out.
Cedric had his axe to Harry’s neck, gripping his arm right where his cut was. Harry's face was contorted in pain. “Grab the other one, Oliver!” He shouted, and Draco was once again knocked over, this time from behind. He felt the sharp point of an arrow press against the base of his neck and a knee dig into his back.
“I'll give my regards to your father, Draco. When I'm on the Victory Tour. Maybe he'd be willing to offer up the heirship to someone more… suited for the job.” Cedric said, laughing although he was struggling to keep Harry still.
“What the…” Draco heard Oliver say. Draco tried to look up, but his head was being shoved down. Then there were little things, little vermin crawling all over his body, and he grew even stiffer than he was before, and he felt the weight leave his head and he could look up.
Hundreds of black rats were swarming Cedric. Little red eyes, foaming at the mouth. Harry stumbled back, and they all watched as they started from Cedric’s legs and ran all the way up to his head. He started swinging his axe to no avail, shouting that quickly turned from those of anger to those of pain, and an expression doing something similar.
When they were on his eyes, he dropped the axe. Draco couldn’t tell if they were gnawing on him or suffocating him. Either way, the mass began to slump down. Oliver’s shaky crossbow was aimed at Cedric, moving up and down in the corner of Draco's eye, unsure of where to shoot. The rats kept coming, and Cedric’s screams got louder.
“Get off of him.”
Harry was standing in front of them, holding Cedric's axe. Oliver shifted his weight and began to move his crossbow back and forth between Cedric and Harry.
“Get off of him. Now.” Harry lifted the axe above his head, a dangerous glint in his eye and a threat in his voice, telling Oliver that with the flick of a wrist he would be dead in seconds.
As soon as he was off, Draco scrambled up, grabbing Harry's leg for support. At this point the rats had stopped coming and Cedric had stopped moving. Draco looked at Oliver. His crossbow was still aimed at Cedric, but his hand was too shaky to shoot.
“Come on.” Harry nudged Draco. After picking up the bag, which had landed nearby on his first impact, they left the quiet pattering of feet and ripping of teeth alone with a child.
As they shuffled away, they could hear the click of the crossbow being fired and the cannon booming.