Authors Note: 11 days until I fly back to the USA, not sure if you'll get an update before then or not.

I went back to bed after speaking with Minerva, suddenly exhausted. There was something about talking to her that always left me with more questions than answers. Her words whirled around in my head, mixing with the fears I had about the games, leaving me dreaming about fighting with magic while being chased around by the snake from the Capitol seal.

It left me in a bad mood. One that wasn't helped by the leering that the Weasley boy subjected me to when I left the comparative safety of my room. My feet led me to the dining car and I sat down opposite the obviously hung over form of Minerva McGonagall. "Mornin' sweetheart? Hope you aren't going to chuck the silverware at me again."

There is no acknowledgement of what we spoke about this morning, no hint that we had even spoken. "I'll try to contain myself." Emerald eyes twinkle in response to my sarcastic comeback; she is a woman who enjoys a good sparring session, even verbally.

"Sharp wit, decent throwing arm and a pretty face, don't tell me that you can sing too? We might make a decent tribute of you yet."

My lip twitches as I hold in my grin. "I have many skills but there's no reason to reveal them all at once."

"Colour me intrigued."

The banter continues even after Evvie and Ron join us, they look bemused for a moment but seem to shrug it off. At least we aren't fighting. I tuck into my meal hungrily; rarely will I have so much heavy food in a short space of time. I stick again to the less greasy protein filled items that we are served, in only a few more days I will be living off of my reserves and my skills.

I shoot Minerva a pointed glance when she thins tomato juice with a clear liquid, to which she only smirks. It surprises me when she speaks clearly and decisively in a no-nonsense tone. "Today is a big day. You will not like what the stylists do to you but you have no choice and unless you fancy ending up naked and covered in coal dust – like last years tributes, I suggest you just grit your teeth and bear it."

"Who are our stylists?" Ron is talking through a mouthful of food again, it seems to be a habit of his.

"Someone new, unfortunately I don't know who. Evvie might have a better idea. She keeps abreast of developments."

"I don't drunkenly sleep through meetings you mean." Minerva just smirks. I really don't know if I should laugh or cry, I just let my own smirk play on my face. "I believe that Hermione's is a newcomer called Kingsley and Ron will have a woman named Tonks. They are unknown but both are young to have such a position so you can rest assured that they must be talented."

"So talented that they get given the poorest and least popular district?" My comment is snide but provokes a genuine smile from across the table. Minerva's customary smirk has been replaced by something much more genuine and her emerald gaze washes over my face appraisingly.

Evvie mutters something that I cannot quite hear over Ronald's masticating but I don't ask her to repeat it, somehow I don't feel that it is complementary. I start to drink more of the coffee but my eyes keep flickering up to meet Minerva's, I don't know why I am staring but only that I am. She seems like the only other sane person in the room.

Minerva eats a little porridge and begins to speak again. "Long term survival in the games is down to two things. Survival skills." She pauses and grimaces, "But more importantly it is about sponsors. When you are dying of thirst or freezing, getting a bottle of water or a pack of matches can save your life. And the only way to get sponsors is to be popular. Hermione is right, our district is the last one to get anything – so you both need to stand out."

She takes another sip of 'juice' before continuing, "To have a chance the two of you need to make an impression wherever you go and whatever you do. It isn't enough to be pretty, you need to show the cameras what you showed me last night. I will work with you both and do my best to ensure that you survive as long as possible but I need your help. Can I rely on you?"

Ron grunts an acknowledgement. I meet her eyes for a long moment before nodding mutely, never have I seen her speak with so much passion and it is something truly breathtaking to behold. There is no way that I could speak even if I wanted to. "No smart arsed comments?"

Again I silently shake my head. What is it about this woman that affects me so?

"We'll be there in an hour, make sure that you wave to the cameras and the people. It is them who will be betting on you, supporting you and ultimately sponsoring you. Make an impression, I cannot stress that enough!" Minerva stands, her clothing showing just how thin she is. She might not have gone to bed last night but she has found the time to change into a grey suit that suits her colouring and would complement her figure – if she wasn't so damn thin. For a moment I find myself wanting to win – not just to stay alive or for my family but so that I could take some of the pressure off of her. "Evvie, take Ronald and choose an outfit. Hermione come with me."

I catch Evvie raising perfectly sculpted eyebrows in surprise, obviously she thought that Minerva would be better dressing him rather than me. I'm not disappointed though. My mentor might be sarcastic and blunt to the point of rudeness but I much prefer her to our escort. We walk into my bedroom in silence, I wait until the door closes before speaking. "Why do I need to change, as I recall they only see us through the window of the train?"

"It's an important glimpse. Yesterday they saw a scared, upset girl on camera from a poor district, protecting her sister. You have already made an impression, it's something that we need to keep up." She reaches out and touches my hip, "Trust me?"

I nod.

"Strip down to your underwear."

"What?"

"Just do it. I need to see what I am working with. I'm not a stylist but I don't think that Ms Trinket would survive an encounter with you."

There is no arguing with her logic and I begin to unbutton my blouse, "Did you mean what you said about sponsors?"

"Yes they are the key." She busies herself rummaging through the wardrobe and I change faster without her gaze on me.

All too soon she is turning around and I blush – I feel vulnerable, mostly naked with her looking at me. She asks me to turn around and I feel her burning gaze on my flushed skin. A hand brushes my bare shoulder, "Are you alright?"

There's a lump in my throat that makes it hard to speak. "Yes." It's scarcely a whisper but she hears and takes her hand from my skin. I find myself missing the touch instantly and intensely. "What... uh... What do you think...? I?"

"Very nice."

I was asking what she thought I should wear but upon hearing her words, the rest of the sentence dries up in my throat and I cannot speak. I turn around and face her. Minerva smiles warmly at whatever is on my face before turning back to the clothes. I walk over and open the window, somehow the temperature in the room has risen sharply and I need to cool down.

"Here, try these on." She's suddenly very close again and holding out a pair of dark charcoal grey trousers.

"I thought that I would be in dresses." My distaste at the prospect is evident in my voice.

"You will be soon enough but I want them to get a glimpse of the real you. They've seen you in poor district clothes that were obviously not yours. Soon they will see you in uniform or outfits picked by your stylist. This is the last chance for you to put your stamp on it."

"Your stamp."

Minerva laughs, "I thought you were going to trust me."

Wordlessly I take the trousers and pull them on. They are tight around my shapely hips and thighs, highlighting my natural curves and the slender muscles with which my lifestyle has endowed me. At the knee they become looser. Minerva is obviously a pretty good judge of women's sizes because they fit me like they were designed to.

The next thing she hands me is a pair of black boots, they have a much higher heel than I am used to but make me look taller, as well as making the muscles in my calves and thighs tighten. It's not me but at least she isn't putting me into a dress. I see her eyes flicker over my body as I bend over to fasten the laces but before I can call her on it, she turns away again.

"Now this." It's some form of high necked tunic, made from a shiny black fabric. Dark red patterns are embroidered on it in an almost oriental way. Minerva helps me fasten the unfamiliar buttons, with shaking fingers. She leaves the top two open, so that they hint at my cleavage. The sleeves are short, revealing my tanned defined arms. A few scars are highlighted by the sun streaming through the window.

She steps back and looks me over. "Have a look in the mirror." I hear her clattering around in the drawer but I cannot take my eyes off of my reflection. I look good, she was completely right about the outfit. I look elegant but dangerous. A hand firmly but gently wraps around my bicep and Minerva leads me back over to the bed.

Despite the open window I feel hotter and hotter the closer that we get to the bed. My focus is torn between the smirk on her face and the rapid rise and fall of her chest – she is breathing slightly faster than normal herself. "Relax sweetheart." The words are quietly issued but I can feel her breath on my ear and it makes me shiver.

A moment later I am sitting on the bed. Minerva kneels down next to me and takes my left arm again. Her grip is firm but strangely soft and gentle, apart from her I cannot remember the last time that I passively let someone other than my family or Harry touch me. She rubs some cream into my arm, partially masking the scars. "They will want to see the scars, they give you an element of danger but..."

"They aren't beautiful enough." I finish the sentence for her, both of us laughing at the stupidity of the Capitol citizens. She mmmm's agreement before opening a small box filled with strange powders. Minerva rises up higher on her knees and attends to a scar on my forehead in the same manner. She leans in closer and begins to apply some form of cosmetic lightly to my face, there's a line between her eyebrows as she concentrates.

"Close your eyes." I obey even though I feel lightheaded. She comes in closer still and gently brushes a powder across my eyelids. "Done." It's a husky whisper and I feel her breath on my face, it makes me shiver. When I open my eyes she is too close, heart stoppingly close. My gaze flickers down to her lips and I find myself moving closer. What would have happened I cannot say because there is a knock on the door.

Minerva leans back on her haunches and stuffs her hands in the pockets of her jacket. She looks just like a child caught stealing sweet cakes. "Yeah?"

Evvie pokes her head around the doorway, "I wanted to see how you girls were getting on." The door opens wider and she openly gapes at me. "Hermione you look beautiful. Obviously Minerva has a masterful touch."

I blush fiercely, not because of what she said but because of what she interrupted. I exhale sharply and try to control myself. "Shall we all go into the dining room?" Evvie continues, oblivious to the tension in the room. I nod in response, Minerva holds the door for me and I follow the Capitol escort into the corridor.

Minerva catches the hem of my tunic shirt before I walk past, "That's exactly what you needed sweetheart... A little colour in your cheeks." I blush even harder and she chuckles before pushing me deeper into the corridor.

Ron is dressed in a blue suit and already standing at the floor length window in the dining room. I'm reluctant to go near him because of our past. Minerva seems to sense this because she follows me over to the glass. "In about two minutes you are going to see something incredible."

As always she is right. The track curves around a man-made lake. The water is an intense blue, reflecting the huge mountains on the other side of it. Only moments later we are heading straight towards them. The view is magical from this angle but all too soon it cuts off into blackness as we enter a tunnel. The lights in the train are off and for several seconds we are left in darkness. I find myself not caring as a feminine hand makes its way onto the small of my back.

By the time the lights come on Minerva is across the room, outwardly showing no sign that she had been touching me only moments ago. Except for the oh so subtle smirk that is curling the corners of her lips. I blush again, wondering what the hell has come over me. I turn back to the window but I am still observing her in my peripheral vision and watch as she picks up a glass and has a hearty swig of the colourless liquid contained within.

I feel like I am already in the belly of the beast and from Minerva's actions I guess that she feels the same way. All too soon we are in the Capitol itself. Stone buildings of every shape and size dominate the skyline, they are painted in bright hues of all the colours I know and several besides. The sheer scale of the city is daunting – how could wizards ever have hoped to take this muggle stronghold? Hovercraft buzz around the rooftops in a show of strength and military power.

Our train slows its furious pace and we sedately proceed into the main part of the city. Crowds begin to gather on the platforms. The people are as strange as the scenery. Their skin is dyed strange colours, hair is cut into every conceivable shape and many that are not. Strange implants jut from brows and bodies. Some of them scarcely look human, these are the people who hold my immediate future in their hands and I can barely conceal my disgust.

It must show in my posture because a sardonic drawl comes from behind me, "Smile and wave sweetheart, smile and wave." There is iron in Minerva's voice – it is not a suggestion or a request – it is an order pure and simple. I comply but I know my movements are mechanical at best, at least in this Ron beats me hands down because he is grinning like a demented farmboy on his first day at market. I plaster a more genuine fake smile on my face – I know it's an oxymoron but they are complete morons. It's that thought that makes me really smile and I do wave at them now.

I resist the urge to howl in pain. I can hear stifled cries from other rooms, ones that I am guessing contain other tributes. Minerva told me not to resist and I plan on keeping that promise. One of my female beauticians smears another layer of hot wax on my skin and rubs a strip of material into it. After a hundred repetitions I know what is coming and grit my teeth. RRRIIIIIIPPPPP.

Another beautician is plucking my eyebrows methodically, yanking single hairs out by the roots. Yet another is cutting and buffing my nails. The Capitols insistence on perfection seems to apply even to those that they are planning to kill. The whole thing is ridiculous but again I have no choice.

"I'm glad you aren't a complainer." One of the women speaks up in a high pitched voice, "This is so much easier, we can make you look really nice now."

I nod, not trusting myself to speak without making a smart-arsed comment. At this rate I am going to be lucky to keep even the hair on my... head. Something that they have also cut and shaped. There is some foul smelling liquid soaking into my scalp but despite the stinging sensation I stay quiet. It's been hours and my stomach lets me know that it is long past midday.

After an eternity I am told to stand and they hose me off with a sweet smelling tepid water. I brace myself against a wall with my hands and ignore the indignity hoping that it will be over soon. Suddenly the liquid stopped and a harsh rush of air begins to dry my skin. Please God let it be over.

And it is. They lead me into a side room with two chairs. Obviously uncaring about my nudity they leave me there completely naked. I sit down, crossing my arms and legs. If there's one thing I hate more than any other, it is making myself vulnerable. This whole situation is designed to make me feel that way and I hate it.

The door opens and my mentor walks in. At least she is a normal person, not a surgically enhanced freak show like many of those I have seen this morning. That familiar smirk crosses her face as her eyes rake over my exposed skin. "This is hardly the time or place if you want to stare at my body."

Emerald eyes flit up to meet mine, "I'll bear that in mind. In the meantime however I thought you might want this." She held out a thin shiny looking piece of fabric. It's like a very long thin coat and I look helplessly at it for a moment. I have never seen anything like it before. Understanding dawns in Minerva's eyes. "Stand up."

I blush before doing what I am asked; while the so called beauty treatments are not transmitted to the public, I have no doubt that they are filmed and that consequently my mentor has seen me naked. To Minerva's credit her eyes do not leave mine and she keeps the smirking at a minimum. "Turn around," the command is issued in a deep husky whisper and I comply. "Hold your arms out." She slides the cool material onto my body and her fingers caress my shoulders briefly before dropping away.

I quickly wrap the fabric around me and realise that I should secure it with the attached string. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Minerva goes and sits in the chair opposite the one that I just vacated. She is as close to sober as I have ever seen her. There is a haunted look in her eyes and I want to ask her about it but I know better. "Would you like to have lunch with me?"

I nod, not quite trusting myself to speak. She leans over and presses a button. Several moments later a small hatch opens in the table and two plates lift up from within along with two glasses. I just watch her. "Hermione eat."

I roll my eyes but pick up a plate anyway; it's some kind of meat and vegetables. I have eaten half of the plateful before I realise something. "You said my name."

"Indeed." Emerald twinkles as a genuine smile reaches her eyes.

"You aren't eating." I note the fact that she is only playing with her food.

"Not really hungry."

I catch the way that she keeps glancing at the glass of fruit juice, as though wishing it were something stronger. "You're too thin." She shoots me a glare but there is no real malice in it and she does swallow a mouthful of stew. "What kind of meat is this?"

"Lamb." I shake my head blankly, not exactly sure what kind of animal a lamb is. "Sheep?" I shake my head again. "Um... a white fluffy four legged animal, farmed in District Eleven."

"Oh. Like a cow?"

"Kind of but much much smaller."

Our education at school is mainly related to subjects that will help us in our district; even mathematics is structured around coal and coal mining. Knowledge of other districts is discouraged and even forbidden. The Capitol are terrified that we will rebel again, it's stupid really - even when wizarding kind trained in magic we could not defeat them. We would be wiped out but they still prohibit travel between districts and the only time we mix with each other is at the games. Divide and conquer, there's a reason why it's the oldest trick in the book. "Oh." I've lost what little interest in the topic that I ever had.

"This afternoon you will meet with Kingsley, your stylist." I'm learning to read the nuances in Minerva's speech and there is a subtle emphasis on the mans name. She is trying to tell me something about him.

I lean back into my chair and lift the glass to my lips, perhaps close observation will tell me more. "Then what?"

"Then he will provide you with a costume for the parade this evening. He will also instruct you on how to react, how to... behave."

I'm carelessly slumped into the chair, for all the world looking barely interested but I know my eyes betray how intently I am hanging onto every word. Kingsley is a man to be trusted, at least up into a point. His input will help me and I am to do what he tells me.

"You should also take care to show your friendship with young Mr Weasley."

I can't help it, I raise an eyebrow. Ronald Weasley and I are not friends, we could have been – his actions saved my family but the rest of our history has proven that altruism is the exception rather than the rule in terms of his behaviour. He seemed to think that giving me bread would entitle him to sexual favours. At best I view him with disgust.

Minerva clears her throat decisively and her eyes glint with determination. Her last words were not a suggestion, nor is she unaware of the history that I share with the other tribute. There is more going on here than meets the eye. The promise I made to trust her this morning rings in my head and I nod.

"After the parade, you will be shown to your quarters in the tower." The ebony haired woman stands with the innate grace that she possesses, one that even inebriation cannot hide.

"Will we have chance to talk later?" I put emphasis into my own words, wanting to know if we will get a chance to speak privately without surveillance.

"Count on it." She sends me another hard look before leaving the room.