I have a few things to say.

First, I did not write this alone. It was co-authored with my friend. She writes from one perspective (Holly) and I write from the other (Rose). Only recently did we decide to put this up, so we have a lot written and updates should be frequent.

Second, many books, plays, songs, movies, etc. are referenced to and quoted from in this story. If you recognize any of them, please say something. I would like to know if other people actually read/watch/listen to the same things I do. This is just a long way of saying: please read and review.

Last, but not least, a disclaimer. I do not own any of this. The idea of the Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. The setting and most characters belong to J. K. Rowling. The other characters technically belong to SMURFninja. At least the names do; they are all based off of our friends so therefore used with permission.

-Holly's POV-

I was sitting in the Great Hall, which was almost silent. Everyone was either nervous, feeling sick, or praying to some form of higher being, as if it would help their chances. I personally felt a bit terrified. "Just settle on the fact that it's you, Holly Reid, and if it's not, then GREAT! I get to live...until next year. But if I get picked, it was bound to happen sometime. Just, I hoped it wouldn't be one of my friends.

"Please...anyone but them. Anyone but them." I chanted over and over in my head.

"Wifey," I heard Dylan whisper. I looked over, trying to conceal the emotions from my face. Apparently I sucked at doing that because she gave my arm a reassuring squeeze and said,

"It'll be okay."

I merely nodded and noticed that Rose, Laine, and a girl we'd come to know as Luna walked into the Great Hall.

"And to think, Rose was almost late." I said with a smile at the lame attempt to cheer Dylan and I up.

"To think." Dylan muttered back, picking at her lunch. I don't think anyone had really eaten. I gave a reassuring smile to Laine and Rose. They merely returned it and walked to their table. I couldn't help but notice Rose's expression was the same as mine.

Dumbledore strode to the podium and the room fell silent, not one witch or wizard drew a breath.

He merely looked at us and nodded. Most of us just sat there, watching him like hawks. A few nodded back, but mostly the first years, who had no idea of what was to come. Dumbledore paced back and forth, once, then twice, deciding what bowl to rummage around in first. What bowl to draw the damning names from, choosing seven to be slaughtered, one to be victorious. He stopped in front of the Hufflepuff glass bowl. "Oh god." I whispered, feeling as if I was about to be sick all over the table.

"Firstly, from Hufflepuff," Dumbledore called out into the silence, "Ms. Thalia Hockhang." I let out a silent sigh as Kendra wasn't picked, but instantly felt terrible while watching a little second year patter down the row between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw table, holding back tears. "As Hufflepuff's second tribute..." Dumbledore's voice trailed off for dramatic tension, as if this event needed any, "Mr. Cedric Diggory." I watched as a tall built seventh year boy with light brown hair stood up and strode in front of the staff table.

"It's already going to be an interesting Games." I told myself.

-Rose's POV-

Thank god Kendra wasn't chosen. If she had, no one else would have had chance. Not even You-Know-Who would have stood a chance against a spasmodic, (or, god forbid, angry) Kendra. But if all of her attention was focused on one person, someone else could come up behind her. And while Kendra was amazingly good at killing things, she was not the most attentive person.

Dumbledore then strode over to the Gryffindor bowl.

"Oh god," I whispered under my breath, "not Holly, not Dylan, not..." I would have gone on for several minutes, listing various people, had not Dumbledore reached into the bowl.

"And now for Gryffindor..." he started

" 'Where dwell the brave of heart,'" I said. I can't help it if a specific quote comes to mind in a situation.

"The first tribute shall be..." he said as he reached into the bowl "Mr. Collin Creevy." Oh, god, he's a third year, I thought as little Collin stumbled down the hall. Just like my brother. Thank god he doesn't go here. But being grateful of that didn't change the fact that there was still another Gryffindor tribute to be chosen. I crossed my fingers under the table, hoping against hope that someone I cared about would not be reaped.

"And as Gryffindor's second tribute...Holly Reid."

I felt a vice-like hand grip my arm. I looked up at Laine, shock, dismay, but most of all horror filling both of our faces. Something moving towards the staff table caught my eye. It was Holly. And either she was an amazing actor, or she was confident in her ability to win. Another quote from a book read well before this nightmare came to mind,

" 'If you're feeling cocky, it's because there's something you don't know.'" I muttered.

"Come on, Rose," Laine muttered to me "She'll be fine, remember what she almost did to Kendra that one time?" I attempted to crack a smile, but it wouldn't happen. I turned my attention to the expanse of wood in front of me, not wanting to focus on anything in Holly's general direction.

"As for Ravenclaw..." said Dumbledore dramatically. What was with that guy and drama right now? I mean, really, no one needed any more suspense today, of all days.

"The first tribute will be...Terry Boot."

I sighed. It was not Laine or Luna, or me for that matter. But there was still another one of us to be reaped.

"And now, our second tribute...Rose McAllister."

I froze; did I really just hear that? I began to stand up, but my arm would not leave the table. I looked at Laine.

"Let go." I said.

"No." she said "You and Holly...and only one can win..." her voice cracked and I realized she was crying. I was shocked. I had never seen Laine even tear up before.

"Laine, let go right now." I lowered my voice, the entire school was staring at us. "I- I'll find a way, really."

She was still holding fast to my arm. "Rose, I'm serious-"

" 'Seriously, dear, not serious,'" I cut her off with another quote. Why was I thinking of so many of those today? "I am serious, too. There has to be some loophole. I'll find it." she still didn't look convinced. "I'm not in Ravenclaw for nothing, you know." and with that, I yanked my arm from her hand, and walked quickly up the hall.

"Sorry about that." I mumbled to Dumbledore as I walked by him.

"Not at all," he replied. Maybe it was just me, but his expression seemed to say something along the lines of 'That just gave the Slytherins some more time to worry'. God, was the guy that cold hearted?

I walked over and stood right next to Holly. I was not concerned about my ability, and I knew she felt the same way about herself, but the cold, hard fact that only one person can win the Games remained in the center of my mind. There has to be a way around that, I thought. Then I remembered the essay about the Games that I had to write earlier this year. The library had an entire section on it; there had to be a book about the rules somewhere in there. I remember there being one; my memory has never failed me yet. The Games did not start for another two days, plenty of time to find the book and read it. There had to be something in there about the one-winner-only rule.

I was so deep into my thoughts of stratagising Holly and myself out of the Games alive, that I completely missed the reaping of Slytherins. I broke off my train of thought when Holly nudged me. I looked around to find all of the tributes gathering around Dumbledore. Right, he had to put some sort of tracing spell on us to make sure we didn't try to run before the Games even started. I walked over with Holly, noticing the Slytherin tributes. Pansy Parkinson did not seem very happy (join the club, Pansy, if you want to associate with the rest of us non-Slytherins). On the other hand, Crabbe looked positively enthusiastic about the prospect of being able to kill a whole bunch of people without being asked to spell a single word.