LET THE GAMES BEGIN

PART ONE – THE GAME REAPER

District One – Luxury

Draco sniffed, a grimace emerging on his pale face. He opened his eyes slowly and was greeted by the sunlight filtering through the broken blinds on his small bedroom window. He knew what day it was today. Reaping day. Years ago, 73 to be exact, there was a rebellion in the 13 districts of Panem. It had be quashed after a few months, when the 13th district was obliterated. But as punishment, the Capitol had created The Games. In which 24 children, a girl and boy from each district were put into an arena and made to fight for the death. Draco's family had always been huge supporters of the games, watching it on their small television every year, but it was all right for them. They were old now. For almost every child between the ages of eleven and eighteen, the approach of the games was a stomach clenching, nerve racking experience. Sure, luckily enough he was from a richer district, where they made luxurious items and sold them for a high profit. People here actually trained for the games, day and night, until they became unbeatable. The winners were almost always from his district, but in Draco's mind, there was still a one in twenty-four chance of winning, over a twenty-three in twenty-four chance of death.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes, staring out the window. He could see the little street, where peacekeepers were starting to swarm like flies within it's white-washed walls. He could see people peering out of their windows and shutters at the increasing crowd on their way to the large, white square, outside the rarely used justice building in the centre of the town. He felt his stomach churn as he saw them setting up the screens in the distance that would televise the reaping to all of the Panem, so the capitol citizens could see the fear in the children's faces and make bets on which would survive if they were picked. Shaking the sleep from his heavy head, Draco stood up, pushed back his sleep-messed white blonde hair and moved to his wardrobe to get dressed in his best clothes. Despite his pessimism, he had to look presentable, were he the one chosen.

Somewhere a few streets away, an alarm clock went off. A raven-haired girl awoke, and jumped out of her bed. Leaning out of the window, she looked down the cobbled streets to the raised justice building at the centre of town. She grinned. Diving back into her bedroom, she ran to the wardrobe, a big old mahogany wardrobe that had been her grandmother's. She pulled out several brightly coloured dresses that varied in extravagance from plain to capitol-esque. After laying out each in turn, she picked up an emerald green cotton sun dress with yellowing lace cuffs and satin ribbons and pulled it over her head. Pansy turned, looked in the mirror, apparently extremely pleased with what she saw.

"MUM? MUM! WAKE UP IT'S REAPING DAY!" She ran to the door and shouted down the hallway of her little yellow house. Thundering down the stairs, she ran into her bright kitchen and grabbed an apple from the bowl on the table. She turned around and was greeted by her mother, still in her pyjamas and looking very tired.

"Pansy, sweetheart, calm down. I don't know why you're so excited" She smiled a sad smile, pulling back her own raven hair, her blue eyes full of confusion.

"Mum, if I get picked, I'll be on television! The whole Panem will see me! I've been training for YEARS. I have to get in before I'm eighteen!" Her mother said nothing, only looked at her with eyes full of sympathy, so Pansy ran upstairs again, hair and ribbons flying behind her. When she reached her room, she went to the window again, leaning on the frame and playing with the shutters for a while. She looked across the brown rooftops of the east of the town and wondered to herself what Draco would be doing right now. Pansy let out a sigh as she let herself be swamped with daydreams about herself winning The Games and coming back to find Draco desperately in love with her. If she was chosen, he might actually like her. Breathing in the cold morning air, she swung around and headed across the room to her chest of drawers to do her hair, buzzing with excitement.

The Malfoy family sat in silence around their grand dining table. Draco stared into his bowl of oats, not listening to whatever polite words passed between his parents. His mother looked nervously over to him, tucking her blonde hair behind her ear.

"Draco? Sweetie, are you okay?" She reached out a quivering hand to his arm, and he looked up. The woman resembled strongly a rabbit in her disposition, but quite the opposite in her features. Her pointed, pale face was only ever warm when it was pointed in his direction, and right now it was filled with fear and sympathy for him, her eyebrows pressed together with concern.

"Yeah. I'm fine." He forced a look of excitement onto his reluctant face. He didn't want to worry his mother anymore than she already was. She hated the reaping almost as much as he did; the thought of her baby boy being sent to an arena to fight till the death with only a slim chance of winning made her sick to her stomach.

"I think it would be extremely prestigious if he were to be picked! Think of the honour if you were to win!" Draco's father narrowed his snakelike eyes at Draco. "Do at least try to enjoy yourself today." Draco nodded curtly, his lips pursed, and put down his spoon.

"It's almost noon. We'd better head to the square." He spoke, the words empty and hollow. They all rose and left the dining room, and into the long dark hall of their house. Their house was always the darkest. It's tiny rooms and narrow halls were always filled with shadows, which was a major contrast to the rest of the town. In the streets there were white washed walls and bright yellow shutters, cobbled roads and pebble-dashed fences. The outside of the Malfoy's stuck out like a sore thumb. It's paint had not been done in years, and it was peeling to reveal a darker colour. It's shutters were black and there was rust and decay in every spot. Draco walked out of the door, which was a much too grand panelled wooden door for the actual grandeur the house held, flanked by his parents, and headed down the streets, which were almost empty. At the square, he found himself bombarded by a flustered Pansy, waist length hair and emerald ribbons flying every which way.

"DRACO! Where have you been? It's almost noon! Get to the peace keepers!" She squealed at him. He feigned interest and alarm and walked towards where he needed to stand, with the rest of the boys. Towards the back, the muscular, older guys who had trained almost their entire life, and came from the more rich families of the town, stood, grim determination in their eyes. Lanky Draco stood with the boys his own age, and tried not to look too nervous. Across the square, he saw Pansy, who waved. He had to admit, despite the ugly, upturned nose, annoying, obsessive and shrill personality, she was actually quite a nice person. Well, she was certainly the only person who seemed to put up with his sullen mood and lack of any optimism. He still didn't particularly enjoy her company though.

The anthem sounded, and Cornelius Fudge climbed onto the platform. There was an enthusiastic round of applause. As he greeted them, and the rebellion film rolled, Draco felt fear rising in the pit of his stomach, up his spine and into his throat. He was never usually this scared. What was so different to any other year? Something was changing.

Pansy glanced across at Draco again, but he was still staring forward, expressionless, his mop of blonde hair falling over his forehead, clearly showing no one had made an attempt to brush it back. His white shirt was a little grubby and wasn't tucked in properly. She sighed and turned back to the front, straightening out her dress, and as the film finished, and everyone duly clapped, Cornelius Fudge stepped forward, his outrageous orange hair and tailed jacket flapping about in such a fashion that made him look like a crude, exotic swallow, to the silver microphone shaped like a gem and began to speak.

"Welcome, to the 74th Annual Hunger Games. Our mentor for this year's tributes will be Severus Snape." A sour looking, greasy haired man with a hooked nose stepped forward, swathed in black. "Now, ladies first." This was it. Pansy crossed her fingers as her chest fluttered.

"Pansy Parkinson"

Pansy opened her eyes. She could not believe her luck. Raising her head, she looked around her, the children at the front staring at her with a mixture of relief and pity. The ones at the back who had trained all their lives glaring indignantly, wondering whether they had a victor in their midst. She took a shaky step, and as she reached the stage, she looked back. She beamed.

"Ah! Lovely to see someone with a good attitude. Over here, Pansy" Fudge shepparded her with his gloved hands to the right of the illustrious stage, where she stood, beaming. This was really happening. She was finally going to the Games.

"Now, for the boys!" Fudge crossed to another giant bowl to the left, and dipped his hand in. Pansy instinctively drew her gaze to Draco, who was still stood expressionless. Why couldn't he be pleased for her? Why couldn't he at least show something? Fudge rooted around in the paper and drew out one.

"Draco Malfoy" The boy's face dropped. Pansy's eyes widened. Draco's mother cried out, as he made his way to the stage. No, no, no. Pansy felt sick. Her daydreams seemed silly now.

"Come along, Draco. Up here. Now shake hands!" Fudge dragged the two together, and Pansy reached out her hand, tears filling her eyes. No, she couldn't lose her nerve. This wasn't happening, she was still asleep. This was a bad dream. She looked at Draco, to see any sign of anything in his face, but there was nothing. Then It hit her like a bullet in the stomach. She didn't want to win the Games so much if that meant she couldn't have Draco. Although, it seemed like Draco didn't really want her anyway. Resolving back to her original plan, to survive the Games and come home a champion, she narrowed her dark brown eyes and looked into Draco's watery grey ones. If he didn't want her, then maybe she could do without him.