In the grand tradition of Hogwarts Headmasters, Plutarch Heavensbee chooses a proficient rule breaker for the honor of House Prefect. It's not until Johanna's howler fills the rafters with cackling laughter that Katniss realizes her Prefect letter isn't a hoax.
"Of course you made Heavensbee's cut," the red parchment wheezes. In the background, Katniss can hear Johanna's brother complaining that she's gone barmy. "The noble troublemaker who outwits every teacher but him." Johanna chortles until the letter gleefully shreds itself, cutting short Holden Mason's whining plea, " - play Quidditch now, 'Hanna?"
Mrs. Everdeen rewards the letter with soft, gray dress robes. Katniss promptly dumps them back into the wrappings.
"Take these back," she says briskly. "I don't need them."
"There might be occasion- " her mother starts, but one look from Katniss quells her. She sighs, shaking out the robes to refold them. In the dim evening light, the fabric looks like smoke billowing on bursts of air. "I'm just proud of you, dear."
Katniss stifles a twinge of guilt. "How did you even get them?" she asks. The closest seamstress is Hazelle Hawthorne in Cardow, and busses don't run direct. "Is there a weak spot in the enchantments around the Hob?"
Her mother draws herself up, her chin lifting. "I may be shut out of the market, Katniss, but the owl post works the same whether you're a witch or not."
Katniss frowns, watching the glow of the fire flicker across the fabric. She imagines slipping the robes over her head, watching them swish around her bare feet. She reaches out, fingers ghosting over an untucked edge before she realizes what she's doing. She yanks back her hand as if burned.
"I'm not going to be Prefect, so it doesn't matter," she says shortly. Catching the blank resignation on her mother's face, she tries to soften the blow. "Give them to Prim. They'll look better on her, anyway."
She expects a lecture from her sister, too, but Prim's too swept up by the memory of her holiday to bother about Hogwarts. Katniss bites the inside of her cheek to keep her own summer news from spilling out. It's better for Prim — safer for Prim — but the copper in her mouth tastes like a lie, lingering sharply on her tongue.
After a careful examination of her sister's gift for Peeta — "I promise, Katniss, it's as Muggle as can be!" — Katniss plasters on an indulgent smile and accompanies Prim to the bakery. Peeta wraps Prim in a bearish hug, while she protests that, yes, she missed him, too, but if he doesn't put her down he'll never get his present. She proudly surrenders a paper-wrapped square with a big orange bow, which contains a book of French landscapes she got from a wizarding village near Rocamadour.
Katniss waits until Prim leaves to whisper, "If you let me borrow that first term, I'll charm it back to life for you."
His fingers fumble on the book, going tight and white to keep it from tumbling to the floor. Katniss bites her lip, forcing her feet to stay planted. After a stuttering pause where her heart thunders like a herd of centaurs, Peeta gives her a smile that's quickly becoming familiar: a touch shy, faintly awed, with a burning sort of curiosity that makes her stomach churn pleasantly.
"If it means I get to see you before the holidays, I'm all for it." He tucks the book into his apron's front pocket, grinning as he returns to wiping down the counter.
Katniss ducks through the door after Prim, hoping he'll miss the pink blooming on her cheeks. When he winks at her through the display window, she smiles back shyly.
"At least you know the Headmaster likes you," he reasons when Katniss stomps into the bakery a few days later, scanning the cafe for prying eyes. She drops Heavensbee's latest sales pitch onto the counter, scowling. Amusement tugs at the corners of Peeta's lips, but he dutifully keeps a straight face. "He'll have to choose someone new soon, won't he?"
Someone new, she learns from Johanna, is Clove. After Katniss spends an afternoon complaining about the medieval torture Clove's sure to implement as punishment for curfew, Prim snaps The Healer's Helpmate shut. The hollow sound swallows her sister's complaints. "Katniss, you're the one who didn't want it."
It's irritating to realize her sister is right. But she'd rather complain about Clove than consider that Heavensbee simply ran out of time. Prim's carefully organized trunk is reminder enough that start-of-term is only a week away.
"But Clove?" she mutters, just to be ornery.
Prim huffs, resettling her book on her knees and rooting through the pages for the place she left off.
Katniss arrives at the bakery during the morning rush. Rye fetches Peeta for her with a dung-eating grin that would do Finnick proud.
"Working today?" she asks casually when Peeta appears, wet hair at odds with his worn debate tee and mud-spattered trainers. It's clear he's not on the clock, but it seems important to go through the motions.
He leans against his forearms on the display case, playing along. "Well, I'm hankering to chop firewood today. Winter's only a few months off." She rolls her eyes and he grins, pushing off the counter. "But dad says I'm banished from the bakery until my best friend heads back to school tomorrow, so I guess you can have your way with me."
Her smile falters. She feels like a third year again, wishing on every star in the sky that September 1st will never arrive. "Do you have plans?" she asks, running the flat of her nail over a threadbare hole in her bag.
Peeta rolls his eyes good naturedly. "I thought we just established that."
He ignores Rye, who mutters, "You will if Mum finds you loitering in her shop front."
"All yours," Peeta assures her.
Despite herself, her lips pull up at the corners. "Good." She grabs his arm, dragging him out the door before Rye's prophecy can ruin the day for them. "We have plans."
"We do?" Peeta asks, as if he's not already dressed for a trek. "What lifelong assumptions are you tilting on their axis today?"
"The expectation that if you flash that smile, you'll get all the answers you want." It's a flirtier response than she normally chances. The responding curl of his lips makes warmth spread through her chest.
"I'll wear you down sooner or later," he promises with a wink.
Keep looking at me like that, Katniss thinks absently. It won't take long.
As if summoned by their good spirits, Haymitch Abernathy staggers around a corner. He nearly walks into a curbside pub sign when he catches sight of them. Katniss grabs Peeta's hand and drags him around the bend before the old man can right himself. She doesn't expect Haymitch to actually follow them — bigot or not, who she fancies is none of his damn business — but he careens down the street, his garbled shout swallowed by a passing car.
Peeta's trainers squeak on the cobblestones as he hurries after her. "Katniss- ?"
She hisses at him to be quiet, shoving him into the first shop she sees.
Effie Trinket is so startled by their sudden appearance that she nearly drops a bottle of perfume. She gasps when they flatten against the wall beside the window, looking little better than thieving goblins by the alarm in her brightly painted eyes.
Katniss winces. Why did it have to be this shop?
Effie opens her mouth, no doubt to lecture them on social graces, but Peeta quickly disarms her affront.
"Sorry, Effie." He flashes his teeth at her. "You probably think we're barbarians." His smile becomes faintly embarrassed, like he's somehow at fault. "It's just . . . Haymitch is a little drunk today."
Katniss snorts. Like there's a day he's not.
The woman peers out the window, purple lips pursing in annoyance. "Oh, my dears," she murmurs. "Stay as long as you need. Some people will only cause a scene." She tuts, shaking her head, and her elaborate updo sways like a wagging finger.
Katniss watches Haymitch's shadow as he cups grimy hands on the window and peers inside.
"Well I never," Effie exclaims loudly. The glass squeaks audibly as he drops his hands and stumbles away. She harrumphs, watching him fall against a window two shops down. Effie grabs a rag to scrub the smeared glass with practiced precision, but it's clear she can do nothing without going outside and chancing an encounter with Haymitch.
"I should call the authorities," she harrumphs, neatly folding the washrag. She smacks the smudge as if it's the man himself. "Honestly, harassing children."
Katniss doesn't relax until Effie announces that Haymitch has staggered off down the street.
"Thanks, Effie," Peeta says with the ease of practice. "I don't know what we'd do without you." He's tall enough that he doesn't have to strain to peck her on the cheek, even with her monstrous heels. Katniss frowns, feeling irrationally irritated at the small, pleased smile that graces Effie's face.
Peeta catches her expression on the way out the door and shrugs. "She likes being appreciated."
Katniss can't exactly argue with that. Anyway, she's pretty sure Peeta sees Effie Trinket as some kind of batty aunt. With an elaborate party every other week, she's practically a live-in at the bakery. Besides, for all Katniss knows, the woman just saved her from a full criminal hearing before the Wizengamot. As they slip past the brightly colored storefront, Katniss surreptitiously scrubs the smudge with the sleeve of her shirt.
She had intended to take Peeta to her meadow today — between shifts at the bakery and his preoccupation with the contents of her trunk, he's still never been — but running into Haymitch feels like a bad omen. Wordlessly, she resets their course for the park.
"So," Peeta says when their feet trade cobblestones for pavement. "Imagine running into our good friend Haymitch today." It's a leading statement, and one he's earned. That doesn't make it any easier to answer.
Katniss chews her lip. It feels dishonest somehow, giving up Haymitch's story. Then again, Haymitch is poking his wand into Peeta's business. He might as well return the favor.
"Haymitch is . . ." She glances around. Apart from the shop boy having a smoke outside the grocer's, they're alone. "Well, you know."
Peeta stops, looking at her incredulously. "Haymitch Abernathy is like you? Really?"
He has the sense to keep his voice down, but something in her stomach twists unpleasantly. This feels . . . different, somehow, than telling him about the year Prim wanted live fairies to decorate their Christmas tree. More real.
Well, she thinks, in for a Knut, in for a Galleon.
She nods firmly. Peeta tilts his head in contemplation.
"Okay, that actually makes a lot of sense."
She stiffens. He bumps her shoulder softly with his. "Come on, Katniss, he's a famous recluse. If anyone's hiding a sordid secret, it's Haymitch."
Any other day she'd be annoyed — magic isn't sordid — but she hears the Hogwarts Express chugging on the tracks in her mind, counting down their time together.
"Right," she says, squaring her shoulders. "So anyway, he's got it into his head that . . . "
Katniss swallows hard, looking up at him. Peeta's faintly flushed from the heat, and her mind flits back to that first day of summer. The heat of his skin on hers. The hazy feeling of more, more, more that felt better than a Euphoria Elixir. She itches to kiss him then and there, Haymitch Abernathy be damned. But her boots weigh her down, heavy with the memory of crashing to the earth after she snogged him in that field. She drops her eyes, and they catch on a thick weal peeking out of his collar.
Her stomach bottoms out, and a low growl rumbles through her chest. "He's a bloody bigot is all it is. He thinks you're not good enough for me."
Peeta laughs humorlessly. "He's got me there."
"Rubbish." Katniss reaches up, tracing a line below his ear, right above the mark. Peeta shivers and she yanks her hand away, heart pounding. She ducks down the shortcut beside the drugstore, more to put some distance between them than because she's worried about eavesdroppers.
"Some wizards think they're better than Muggles," she says as he trails her down the alley. "It's bollocks. We fought a war over it ages ago, but some people are too thick to see sense."
"A war?" It's enough to distract Peeta from Haymitch's unsettling personal interest in them. "How can you fight a war nobody knows about?"
Katniss shrugs, partly because she doesn't know, but mostly because she suspects it involved more than a few Memory Charms. "We're good at staying secret."
She expects more questions. What she doesn't expect is Peeta's sudden, pleased smile. It simmers in her belly and bubbles through her ribcage like a cauldron left over a hearth fire.
"Don't worry," he says softly, "I know how to keep a secret."
She slips her hand into his, squeezing it gratefully. And just like that, the heavy clouds Haymitch summoned dissipate in a beam of sunlight. "You'd better. You're sorta stuck with me now."
The air at Hogwarts seems heavier than usual, pressing down on Katniss whenever she's alone. She blames O.W.L.s. Every time she turns a corner, she runs into another professor whose expression alone is enough to send her scampering towards the library.
"Complain to Chaff," Johanna says one gray afternoon, popping a swarm of fudge flies into her mouth. "He'll slip you a little something to relieve anxiety."
Katniss isn't sure whether she means a Draught of Peace, or something from his infamous hip flask. She's pretty sure she doesn't want to know.
"If you need a Calming Draught, you should visit me in the Hospital Wing," Prim pipes up. Her bag of healing tomes is out of sight under the bleachers, but the barest complaint will have her flipping through The Healer's Helpmate for the cure to her sister's perceived ailment. "Master Aurelius is teaching me to measure doses." From the distracted light in Prim's eyes, Ravenclaw Quidditch tryouts don't hold a candle to measuring lumpy potions drip by drip.
As for Katniss, her future had been determined the day she walked into the Hob, trembling in her overlarge boots.
"It's a waste of time," she complains. "O.W.L.s aren't for months yet, and everyone's studying like the Ministry is peering over their shoulders."
Johanna's glib reply is cut short by a blur of gold streaking toward them. The snitch screeches to a halt, buzzing merrily around their heads. A small, dark hand darts out of nowhere, grabbing the snitch as it flutters past Prim's ear.
"You guys are pretty bad at paying attention." Rue giggles, shaking her head at her friends, and zips back to the pitch, snitch in hand.
"How fast was that?" Prim asks, leaning forward until she's in danger of falling off the bench. "Tryouts just started!"
Katniss presses her palms against the wooden slab, willing her heart to slow. She's spent too long listening to Peeta stomp around town if Rue can sneak up on her like that.
"Bugger the time," Johanna scoffs. "Finch never even saw the thing."
To the Ravenclaw captain's credit, she'd relinquishes her spot as seeker within the hour. Rue flits up to them after tryouts, blue robes in hand. As Johanna merrily abuses her for shortcomings no one else had even noticed, Katniss tucks Prim under her arm.
"I don't know about you, little duck," she says, "but this songbird was never meant to fly."
Prim's lips curve upward. "Dad used to call you that," she murmurs. She looks to Katniss for confirmation. For a minute, those wide blue eyes make her look seven again. "His little songbird."
For the first time in a long time, remembering doesn't hurt. "Yeah," Katniss agrees softly.
Prim bites her lip, considering quietly. "Do you ever wonder what dad was like at our age? Who his friends were? What classes he liked?"
When their father died, Prim was still in primary school. She never heard his goodnatured teasing over her sorting. Never saw his pride when she joined her first school club.
Katniss clears her throat. "His favorite was Care of Magical Creatures." She leads Prim away from their friends, who are caught up talking strategy anyway. "He and Professor Rooba went to school together." She swallows hard, remembering how she'd shouted at the woman for trying to give her condolences.
Prim looks up at her, curious, so she presses on.
"He claimed to be rubbish at Potions, but Mags called him the best Herbology student in his year. . ."
One pale September morning, Finch stops Katniss on her way to the Astronomy tower. Katniss has never actually met the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain, though she's sure they've shared a few classes. Finch seems to know Katniss, though. She carefully tucks a strand of fiery red hair behind her ear, scanning for eavesdroppers on the narrow staircase.
"Gale Hawthorne earned a month's detention with Madame Lyme for sneaking into the Forbidden Forest." She speaks in a quick undertone, and looks not the least bit surprised when Katniss stiffens.
"What do I care?" Katniss's voice isn't quite steady. With all the chatty people in her life, you'd think she'd be a better liar.
"You probably don't," Finch says lightly. "Just sharing the daily gossip."
Light footsteps whisper on stone and Finch hurries away. Katniss is prepared to do the same when Rue materializes out of the spiral staircase leading to Ravenclaw Tower.
"Hey, Katniss," Rue chirps. "Isn't it too early for Astronomy? The stars aren't even out."
"O.W.L.s." Katniss's groan is explanation enough. "We only get practicals twice a week."
"I'm sure you'll do great, though," Rue encourages softly. It's no wonder she and Prim are friends. They're two Snargaluffs in a pod. "And hey!" She brightens. "At least you get Hogsmeade weekends."
Katniss hasn't attended a Hogsmeade weekend since her mother signed the permission form third year. But Rue and Prim are under a distinctly different impression, so she nods.
"Next year you and Prim can go," she reminds her.
Rue affects a sigh. "A whole year." But her brown eyes are bright as she waves goodbye and joins the handful of students heading to class.
Katniss tries not to ruminate on Finch's gossip as Professor Twill lectures about volcanoes on the moon Io. What does it matter if the staff has their eye on the Forbidden Forest? She doesn't really need it anymore. Prim's at Hogwarts. Their mother's herbal business keeps her fed when Katniss is away. And Peeta's getting the hang of owls, even if the ruddy birds wind up flapping around Sae pub's more often than not.
It doesn't matter.
But when Professor Twill draws the curtains to cast a glittering star chart onto the ceiling, Katniss's thoughts stay firmly planted on earth.
Though she tries to deny it, Katniss feels the loss of Dufftown keenly. She lasts until Michaelmas before her feet carry her toward the familiar statue of Gregory the Smarmy. But when she rounds the corner, she finds the passageway guarded by a empty suit of armor. She stakes out the corridor from a nearby alcove, watching unhappily as the tin can menaces its axe at any student who wanders by. The second day she camps out the passageway, Johanna appears out of nowhere and hauls her up the stairs.
"Is breadboy really worth an axe to the face, Everdeen?" she complains, stalking past the DADA classroom and stopping in front of a hunched statue. It's a stone witch with a gnarled walking staff and only one eye.
"I wasn't- " Katniss starts, but Johanna cuts her off with a gesture.
"Yeah, yeah." She rolls her eyes, digging out her wand. "This one'll let you out in Honeydukes. After that, it's on you." She pauses, giving Katniss an appraising look. "And keep it between us, yeah?"
But when she waves her wand and mutters, "Dissendium," nothing happens.
"Fucking Hawthorne," Johanna grumbles under her breath, stuffing her wand back into her robes. "Come on, let's get out of here before Atala wanders out."
Katniss crosses her arms, irritated by yet another obstruction to seeing Peeta. "Keep it between us, huh?"
Johanna grabs her by the arm, shuffling her down the corridor. "When I break international law for a bloke I'm not even shagging, then we can talk."
Katniss knows she should give it up, but the desire to get away creeps up her spine like an itch. She makes it as far as the Whomping Willow before Professor Cecelia walks by, whistling an absent tune that's clearly a warning. That Saturday she suffers through a friendly Slytherin/Ravenclaw scrimmage until Clove wins game — and the honor of Cato's tongue in her mouth — by conjuring a knife and spearing the Snitch's wing to her broomstick. Katniss sneaks from the stands while Finch argues with Lyme about rulebooks and flesh memories. In the end it's Professor Rooba and her pet Crups that make Katniss turn tail. The woman's camped out by the trees, calmly knitting a sweater around a beast that lolls at her feet, mere days from whelping. Rooba pretends not to see Katniss lurking about, but her eyes never waver from the forest, even when green and silver fireworks light up the evening sky.
Two days before Halloween, Johanna catches Katniss hunkered behind a bookshelf on Protective Enchantments and laughs.
"None of your usual hiding places available, huh?" She jerks her head to indicate the shelf Katniss has ravaged. "You know you won't need these until your N.E.W.T.s, right?"
Katniss huffs, disturbing a lock of hair that has escaped her braid. She swats at it ostentatiously, sneaking a worn tome off her lap. She almost manages to slip it under the shelf before her friend catches sight of it. Johanna's amusement fades into an incredulous expression.
"What are you, brainless?" she snaps so loudly that the librarian shushes them from four aisles away. Johanna drops her voice. "You can't possibly be stupid enough to try and sneak your baker's boy into Hogwarts. Heavensbee might think you're Harry Potter with tits, but the protective enchantments are older than the bloody plumbing."
Katniss raises her chin, dropping Protecting Magic from the Menace of Muggles back onto her lap. "Don't be stupid. The headmaster checks those barriers all the time." Her fingers pick at the leather cover. She focuses on a yellowing page, trying to sound indifferent. "Now Hogsmeade- "
"Merlin's beard," Johanna groans, sinking down the wall to sit beside Katniss on the floor. "You're going to make me sick."
Katniss glares at her, deliberately going back to the chapter on The International Statute of Secrecy. Not for the first time, she wishes she'd kept her mouth shut about Hawthorne's detention. Somehow he and Johanna know each other, and once her friend's interest was piqued, it didn't take her long to suss out that Katniss's irritation had nothing to do with losing a few Galleons at the Hob. She had the truth out of her so fast that Katniss wished she had the excuse of Veritaserum.
After a tense silence, Katniss begrudgingly admits, "Repello Muggletum should be easy." Johanna kicks her legs up on a nearby stool, heedless, as always, of the indecent gap in her robes. She makes a carry on gesture, and against her better judgment, Katniss does. "I've just got to see if Hogsmeade has a Caterwauling Charm, or a tracking spell to alert the Ministry."
She feels bereft at the thought of missing Halloween at home to visit Hogsmeade, but if she can get a read on those magical barriers . . .
Johanna snorts derisively, blindly grabbing a book off the shelf.
"And what happens when he shows up in those ridiculous Muggle clothes, huh, brainless?"
Katniss reminds herself — yet again — that her friend's not as caustic as she likes to pretend.
"The House Elves drop off laundry before dawn," she says. Sneaking into the boys dormitories won't be half as hard as sneaking out past Clove, but Katniss isn't worried. Clove may take the whole prefect thing far too seriously, but she was second choice for a reason. "None of the boys wake up until breakfast."
"Woooow." Her friend drags out the word, shaking her head. Katniss isn't sure if she means to sound impressed or patronizing, but she manages an odd blend of the two. "You've really lost it, Everdeen. Are you sure your mad Muggle didn't hit you with a Confundus Charm?"
Katniss flips to a new page, willing her face to remain unperturbed. By the wolfish grin Johanna sends her, she fails spectacularly.
"Note to self," Johanna muses, tossing her unread book to the floor, "bake cheese buns, win Katniss."
She leans back in her chair, grabbing a skinny volume from a low shelf. She flips through the thing like it's a magazine, ignoring the scowl that sets smugglers in the Hob quivering.
Katniss decides then and there that Johanna will be far, far away when she attempts her gambit.
Katniss stares resolutely at the clothing balled up on the front seat of Levan Mellark's pickup truck. Her face burns hotter than dragon fire. At least she can't see Peeta's. Or maybe it would be better if she could. Faces are safe. Faces are-
"Why's mine different than yours?" The plain black robe muffles his voice as he tugs the garment over his head. She's not sure who she stole it from, but she's sure it'll wind up back in the right trunk after laundry.
"We don't want anyone to suspect you," Katniss explains, tearing wary eyes from the worn leather seat. He shouldn't be so blase about stripping down on the side of the road. It's 2 bloody degrees out.
His head pops out the top of the robe, revealing tangled curls and a crooked scarf. Her fingers itch to fix them, but her nerves work as well as an Arm-Locker Jinx. Johanna was right: this is completely barmy.
"If we run into any of my housemates, they'll know you're not in Slytherin," she reminds him. It took her three tries to change the colors on Johanna's spare scarf, and frankly a first year could have done a better job. If anyone notices, she'll have say he got doused in a bottle of armadillo bile. "Half of them wouldn't be caught dead talking to a Hufflepuff, though, so you're probably safe."
She expects him to take some offense at that, but he merely raises an eyebrow, ties the cloak around his neck, and roots around until he finds a pocket for his keys.
"Won't the - uh - Huffapuffs have anything to say about it?"
Katniss snorts. A wisecrack about his pronunciation springs to her tongue, but she leaves it there. She hears Johanna's voice in her head, glibly enumerating all the ways this can end with Katniss in prison and Peeta safely obliviated.
And no one will notice when he doesn't know his way around Spintwitches, eh, brainless?
But for some reason, Katniss needs him there. Needs him to see her as she is, magic and all.
"People steer clear of me," she says instead. "Trust me, no Hufflepuff will get close enough to notice something's off."
"Now I know that's not true," Peeta says so ardently that Katniss has to distract herself casting a Disillusionment Charm over the old bakery truck.
Peeta startles a laugh when it melts from view. Feeling unexpectedly bashful — she knows it's N.E.W.T level magic, even if Peeta doesn't — Katniss steels her nerves and slips her fingers through his. His laughter morphs into a heart-stopping grin that brings a defensive scowl to her face. Her cheeks go hot and splotchy.
"I don't need you running off for an urgent appointment or suddenly recalling your fear of the Loch Ness Monster," she says. He raises his eyebrows and she shakes her head, dragging him up the path that winds past Hogsmeade station. "You'd be surprised. Come on."
They walk for nearly a mile, gloves loosely twined, Peeta chatting amiably, before his body stiffens and his grip turns painful. She stumbles to a stop beside him. Peeta reflexively shifts to steady her, but his eyes are fixed on a point in the distance. Squinting against the morning sun, Katniss spies peaked roofs jutting beyond the soft curve of a hill.
"What is it?" she asks.
Peeta blinks, swallowing hard. "You don't see that?" he asks hoarsely.
Katniss shakes her head. "I see Dominic Maestro's. The music shop my dad took me to when I turned four." If she stands on tiptoe, she can make out the wrought-iron sign, stark against the pale smoke curling from The Three Broomsticks.
Her distraction works, a little.
"What did he play?" Peeta asks. His attention never wavers from that point beyond the hills.
"He sang."
He nods vaguely. Katniss pulls him forward again, ignoring the pins and needles stabbing her fingers. He trudges along methodically, mechanically, as if she's manipulating him with an Imperius Curse. Or a knife in the ribs. His muscles are tensed as if for battle, trapping her against him.
"What do you see?" she asks, moving her thumb over his knuckle. He might not feel it through their gloves, but she hopes it's soothing anyway.
She's spent all term studying the effects of protective enchantments on Muggles, but she never really considered what Peeta would experience. It always seemed a simple matter, leading him someplace unseen. Now, with his eyes hazed over and his mind struggling to keep up, putting one foot in front of the other seems like an insurmountable task.
"Peeta?"
It takes more than a minute for him to wrench his attention from the nightmare his mind has conjured. She repeats her question, squeezing his hand as best as she can.
"It's a chasm," he says finally. "Like an old mine collapsed. The ground's swampy, dark and infected. A village sits on the edge, crumbling brick by brick, and- " He faces her suddenly, brows furrowed. "You really don't see it?"
Katniss shakes her head.
Peeta smiles, a mockery of the grin she knows so well.
"Well it's terrifying," he says lightly. "Ravenous wolves the size of horses, and something I'm pretty sure is the swamp monster that lived under my bed when I was five."
Her throat tightens. She feels the unexpected urge to pull him close, throw her arms around his neck, and thank him for trusting her.
Impulsively, she pries her hand free and balances her palm on his shoulder. Before she can doubt herself, she pushes onto her toes and ghosts a kiss to his cheek. Her lips tingle with the suggestion of heat. She lingers for a heartbeat, breath bouncing off his cheek and going cold before it finds her mouth again.
Peeta blinks, refocusing on her. It takes him a minute to work out what happened — or at least determine that he hadn't conjured it in his head. Blushing, she retreats, linking their elbows to pull him along the narrow path.
"It probably escaped from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," she says, trying to recall a casual atmosphere. "I wouldn't put it past Madam Weasley to combine portable swamps with pygmy puffs and call them Bog Babies, or something."
Peeta nods, fingers scrubbing through the fine hairs along his temple. She can tell he's struggling to think, mind still caught by the Muggle Repelling Charm. "That's . . . the joke shop?" he ventures.
"Yep." His eyes flit toward her, but they're pulled inexorably toward the skyline. Katniss finds herself babbling. "Roxanne works the floor on Hogsmeade days; you might meet her. Now and then her dad will nip in — he founded the shop last century — but he's mostly retired. He's got to be a hundred and thirty."
"Is that normal?" he asks abruptly.
For a second she thinks he's asking about Mr. Weasley. But when she glances at him, he's frowning into the distance. She wonders if he even heard her.
"What?"
He shakes his head, clearing it. "Hiding behind hallucinations," he says, looking over at her. "Dredging up fears to keep people away."
She jerks her arm from his. That makes it sound horrible. Invasive. They have a right to protect themselves.
But suddenly Katniss remembers the fear in her mother's eyes those first few months after her father's death. Flinching when Katniss touched her, even knowing she couldn't do magic at home. Going tight around the eyes when Katniss flipped through her father's books. The hesitance in her smile when Prim received her letter, even years later.
What does it feel like, Katniss wonders, to know you're powerless?
"Things were bad in the Dark Days," she says stubbornly. "Witch trials, innocent people burned at the stake. Muggles hunting warlocks to steal their magic." She takes a deep breath and slips her fingers back into the crook of his arm. "It's easier to stay secret." She clutches his arm, willing him to understand.
Peeta opens his mouth, then closes it. His eyes find the skyline, and he shakes his head. She's not sure she wants to hear what he had to say.
"Didn't think it worked that way," he says finally, mouth quirking.
She can tell he's trying to alleviate the tension, but she isn't sure what he means.
"Stealing magic?" he clarifies, nudging her shoulder. "That sounds like something out of a sci-fi movie."
Katniss scoffs. "Of course you can't steal magic. But people want what they can't have."
"That's not always a bad thing," he says, covering her hand with his. Even through their gloves, warmth diffuses up her arm, tingling through her like a Hot-Air Charm. He grins. "Except maybe when it comes to you."
She's not sure what's worse, the flush creeping up her nose, or the reply that springs to mind: Who says you can't have me?
"Keep walking," she says briskly, lengthening her stride so he has no choice but to do the same. "We're wasting daylight."
Katniss knows the exact moment they pass the barrier between Hogsmeade and the Muggle world. Peeta's carefully controlled expression transforms into dumbfounded wonder. His mouth falls open; a strangled sound escapes his lips. The dazzling glow of a dozen storefronts reflects in his eyes, which are wider and bluer than she's ever seen. She yanks him past the train station and under a shop's awning, heart pounding frantically.
A hundred yards away, Professor Chaff walks straight into the doorframe of The Hogs Head.
He's looking at Peeta, she thinks.
Adrenaline thrills through her, strengthened by a tinge of fear. She maneuvers Peeta so his back's to the street, but the Potions professor never looks away as he rights himself and eases through the door.
He's not looking at Peeta, she realizes suddenly. He's looking at me.
Katniss becomes aware of an aching in her cheeks. Her teeth sting, exposed to the biting chill.
Stop it, she orders herself. You look like a nutter. But no matter how hard she tries, she can't force the smile off her face.
Peeta is here. In Hogsmeade. She knows it's completely mental, but the world around her tilts and locks suddenly into place.
"Has this always been here?" he breathes. His eyes dart around, hoarding every cobblestone from the dingy train platform to the distant Shrieking Shack.
She scrubs her gloves across the thick fabric of her robes, stifling the excitement bubbling in her chest. It feels like the first day of Hogwarts all over again.
"Established in the eleventh century," she says blithely. Her teeth ache as her smile softens, lips leeching away the cold. "My dad used to bring me," she admits.
Her eyes find the music shop, two stores down. She'd loved hearing her father sing to the wind chimes in the window, humming along as they tinkled back a merry tune.
She shakes her head, refocusing on Peeta. "And I brought Prim once. To buy her Hogwarts things."
A smile spreads across his face, soft and wondering, as if bewitched into place. There's nothing behind her but the hairdresser's shop, but she peeks over her shoulder to make sure. Behind a flyer for The Amazing Color-Changing Hair Potion, a blue-haired wizard chatters at the back of someone's head. A pair of scissors hovers, snipping in tandem with the ones in his hand.
"We're not wasting money on a haircut." Katniss warns, turning back to Peeta, who's still smiling at her.
His eyes shift, widening briefly. "Er, no," he agrees. "I'd rather not get stabbed today, thanks." The scissors snip a dark lock, narrowly avoiding the customer's ear. Peeta scratches his own ear, pulling a face in commiseration.
She rolls her eyes. "They're charmed to avoid nicks, you know."
"And the kid in that chair is too scared to sneeze, yeah?" Peeta raises an eyebrow at her and she rolls her eyes. He follows close behind as she slips into the flow of students in the street.
He's already familiar with the concept of owl post, so they visit the post office first. He maintains a casual expression as she pens a quick "hello" to Prim, even when the delivery owl catches his knuckle in its sharp beak. They dart into Spintwitches and out again in a matter of minutes. The potions shop she avoids like the plague. The owner frequents the Hob, and the black market is worse than the Grand Staircase portraits when it comes to gossip.
"Keep your eyes in your head," Katniss whispers as they duck around a severely listing tower of pots outside the cauldron shop, which is closed for holiday. "You're supposed to be used to this, remember?"
"Right," Peeta says wryly. "Yeah, no problem. Just an everyday trip to a magical village." His eyes fall on a Fanged Geranium snapping in the window at Dogweed and Deathcap, and he shakes his head in bemusement. "Don't know what all the fuss is about."
"We can go to the bakery if it would make you more comfortable," Katniss teases. She can't help but laugh when Peeta's eyes light up.
"You have a bakery?"
She tugs on Peeta's sleeve, pulling him toward the swarm of students outside of Honeydukes.
"Candy shop, technically. And we're only going in if you promise not to goggle at the Chocolate Frogs."
Despite Peeta's surprising ability to camouflage himself among the crowd, his eyes nearly bug out of his head when Katniss tugs him into Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Even she has to admit it's overwhelming. Between the cacophony of milling students and all manner of unidentified objects exploding overhead, she's tempted to duck right back out.
"Brainless!" a voice hollers above the din. Katniss looks up, but there's nothing to see except dirty soles passing each other on the spiral staircase.
A fresh wave of students streams in through the door, shoving Peeta into the throng. Katniss has no choice but to dart after him. She snags his wrist in a firm grip, veering as close to the wall as she can manage. A whizbang zooms above their heads, crackling dangerously. Peeta ducks just in time to avoid catching his hair on fire.
"Brainless!" Johanna shoves past a group of third years clustered by the stairs. Armloads of pygmy puffs skatter, rolling in every direction across the scuffed floor. Johanna ignores the pandemonium, kicking aside a fluffball that strays too close to her boot. She plants herself in front of Peeta and leans against the shelf, grinning wolfishly. Peeta steps back, looking to Katniss for direction.
"Well fuck me sideways," Johanna says, "you actually pulled it off."
Katniss goes rigid. Her eyes dart around the shop, scanning for eavesdroppers. Peeta looks more than a little confused, but he can read a situation almost as well as Finnick. He squares his shoulders, slides smoothly between the girls, and flashes a friendly smile.
"I don't think we've met." Beneath the charm, there's a hint of challenge in his eyes. "I'm Peeta."
"He's got guts," Johanna says, eyeing him appreciatively. "Good. The way Katniss talks, I took you for some kind of milksop."
He frowns, and Katniss wedges herself between them, glaring at her friend.
"Lay off," she hisses, glancing meaningfully at the third years, who have roped Madam Weasley into charming the pygmy puffs back into their cages.
Johanna rolls her eyes, pushing off the shelf. She wanders into the fray and ducks under a sign announcing, Tricks to make your enemies implode!
Peeta raises a questioning brow, waiting for Katniss to take the lead. Huffing, she follows Johanna across the shop. She owes her for keeping mum about Peeta, if nothing else.
When they find Johanna, she's turning a jar of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder idly in her hands. Katniss decides it's best to intervene before her friend winds up with detention for illicit substances. Again.
"Peeta, this is Johanna," she introduces reluctantly. "Johanna - "
"Katniss's walking Confundus Charm," her friend finishes, shoving the jar back onto the shelf. She sticks out her hand. Katniss grinds her teeth when Peeta shakes it.
"He's not- " She clamps her jaw shut when she sees the amusement in Johanna's eyes.
Peeta looks baffled. "What's- " he begins, then gives up, shaking his head. "Nevermind." He leans towards Katniss, voice low. "So she . . .?" He tilts his head meaningfully toward Johanna.
Katniss jerks a nod. "Yeah, she's in."
Johanna sighs ostentatiously. "If you're done with your little lover's spat . . ."
Before Katniss can protest, a group of seventh years stumble down the aisle, shoving each other and laughing. Johanna sets off in the opposite direction, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Katniss follows. She does (rather reluctantly), keeping a firm grip on Peeta's sleeve. They're brewing a volatile potion, here, and the cauldron could spring a leak at any second.
"Oh, untwist your knickers, Everdeen," Johanna scoffs. "I can keep my mouth shut."
"Is that where Katniss gets it?" Peeta jokes, nudging Katniss in the ribs. "Some days I talk myself hoarse and she never opens her mouth."
Katniss frowns, crossing her arms.
Johanna raises a suggestive eyebrow, glancing over her shoulder as she turns the corner. "The way I hear it- "
A whistle pierces the air, echoed loudly two dozen times over. Katniss's stomach drops, pitching wildly at the keening sound. Her hands fumble at Peeta's sleeves, frantic to push him to safety. He digs in his heels, braced for danger. Behind Johanna, every Sneakoscope on the shelf has gone haywire, spinning madly in their wooden trays. Peeta stumbles as Katniss presses into him, hoping to block the spell's radar until they're out of range.
"Who bloody set 'em off now?" Roxanne Weasley pushes through the crowd, wand held aloft. Annoyance and drying purple slime streak her dark face.
Half the shop's occupants have turned to stare at them. Katniss looks around, desperate for a shelf of Exploding Dungbombs or Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. Nothing. There's no way through the din. No escape that won't end with them locked in the storeroom, waiting for an Auror to cart them off to the Ministry.
"Well, shite," Johanna says with affected nonchalance. "Busted."
Katniss gives her a murderous look, and Johanna throws up her arms in exasperation.
"All right, all right. Prim promised me 3 Sickles if I followed you around Hogsmeade and told her when you snuck off to snog." She shrugs, every inch of her unapologetic. "She's a second year. Gotta get her thrills somehow."
She says it so easily that Katniss almost believes her. If Prim knew about Peeta. If Johanna cared one whit about Katniss's love life. But there's no doubt in her mind that if Johanna walks away, the Sneakoscopes will keep on spinning.
"Ugh, seriously?" her voice sounds strained, high and affected. Residual anger lends her act a modicum of credence. If she says any more she'll bungle it for all of them, so she grabs a confused Peeta by the hand and pulls him towards the door.
Johanna shakes her head and moves away from the Sneakoscopes that, one by one, come careening to a stop. Heart pounding furiously, Katniss steers Peeta toward Tomes and Scrolls, which never has more than a few students rooting through the shelves.
"Are you gonna tell me about that alarm?" Peeta asks under his breath. Katniss's heart has stopped thrumming in her throat, but she gives the handful of other students a wide berth. "I'm pretty sure that was almost a disaster."
She winces, chewing the inside of her cheek. 'Disaster' is a bit of an understatement.
"They're Sneakoscopes," she says finally. "They go off when someone's being dodgy." There's no need to add, Like sneaking a Muggle into a wizarding village.
"Right." Though she's sure he has half a dozen questions, Peeta accepts her explanation without comment. Perhaps he senses that she's too on-edge for an interrogation.
"So," he says instead, "what's your favorite book?"
The last of her nerves drop to the dusty floor of the dim-lit shop.
"One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi," she answers automatically. Itching for something to do, she drags him over to the Herbology section. After finding the book on the shelf, she scrubs her palms down her robes, watching him thumb through it.
"Wow." He snorts a laugh, looking over the pages to cock an eyebrow at her. "Your favorite book is the one that makes Leaping Toadstools sound dull."
"It's useful," Katniss says, snatching it back from him. "And Leaping Toadstools are dull when you spend half a day stuffing them into sacks."
"Yes," Peeta agrees wryly. "That sounds much less interesting than kneading dough all day."
She rolls her eyes, following him down an aisle marked Healing.
"We should get something for Prim," he says, grabbing a random book off the shelf and turning the cover towards her. It's Healing at Home with Herbs. "I bet she'd like a souvenir."
"She has that one," Katniss says. A handful of coins clink together in her pocket; nowhere near enough for a gleaming, leather-bound tome to replace Grandpa Everdeen's old Herbology books.
"How about this one?" He trades it for Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions. "I brought a few pounds."
"Sure," Katniss says flatly. "We'll just stroll back to the post and draw attention to ourselves at the currency exchange."
Peeta closes the book, looking faintly embarrassed. "I didn't think of that," he admits. He lifts his a shoulder, smiling anyway. "Ah, well. Maybe next year."
Her stomach swoops, but not unpleasantly. "By next year she'll have read every healing book in print," she says.
A group of students start down their aisle, so Katniss hurries Peeta across the shop. It doesn't take him long to find his favorite section.
"This is incredible," he breathes, fingers tracing the complicated spell. On the opposite page, a dog leaps in sloppy circles, trying to catch a butterfly between its teeth. "The spells are layered in like frosting, building off of each other until you have- "
"Portraits nattering at you from the stairwells," Katniss grumbles, but she's smiling, too. "And I wouldn't recommend frosting an oil painting."
"Speak for yourself!" cries an indignant boy in a gleaming silver frame. "Hey mister, if you paint me a cake- "
Katniss starts. She'd barely noticed the kid watching them from above. She hadn't given the portrait a second thought.
If he blabs to shopkeeper . . .
She tears through the last five minutes in her head, trying to remember if they'd said anything incriminating. Before she can do anything drastic — like hit the painting with a Severing Charm — she's jolted out of her panic by Peeta slinging an arm around her shoulder. His smile is remarkably unaffected for someone talking to his first enchanted portrait.
"Give me a few years," he jokes. She hopes she's the only one who hears the strain in his voice. "The way I mix colors, you'd probably wind up with a block of Crisco."
He shrugs self-deprecatingly, unbalancing her, and Katniss throws up a hand to steady herself. It lands on his stomach. Her heart stutters as the comforting warmth of him sinks into her palm.
"Crisco?" the portrait repeats, scrunching his nose. "What's Crisco?"
"Muggles bake with it," pipes up a girl Katniss recognizes from Johanna's dormitory. She's watching them over her glasses, clearly trying to work something out.
Peeta's hip is pressed against Katniss's, trapping her wand at her side. She tries to ease away, but he's not getting the hint.
"Move," she hisses. The other girl's brows climb into her bangs.
Instead, Peeta tucks Katniss close, chuckling into her hair. "You're just mad that I'm better at Muggle baking than you are at cooking spells."
Amusement flits across the sixth year's face, and Katniss feels a rush of relief. Bonelessly, she sinks into him. There's something almost magical about the way Peeta can talk himself out of any situation.
She cranes her neck, pretending to glare at him. "Don't be a Lockhart about it. I could wipe the floor with you in DADA."
Peeta's eyes go from sure to imploring. Katniss wants to kick herself. She's wondering if she can get to her wand after all when Peeta suddenly grins, leaning down to pat her stomach.
"But I get to live near the kitchens."
A jolt shoots through her, starting low in her abdomen and gaining intensity as it streaks past her heart. It's an effort stay pressed against him, but her defensive scowl makes the charade believable, at least. The girl's friends call her over, saving Katniss from a stuttering response.
Breath leaves her in a rush. She feels Peeta sag in relief.
"How did you know about the kitchens?" she whispers. Glancing over her shoulder, she scoots away from the petulant portrait. She should probably disentangle herself now that the other kids are gone.
Once we're out of the shop. The girl could still be watching.
She steers Peeta out the door, boots crunching on snow. It's pure survival that has her burrowing her fingers up his sleeve. Her gloves are in her pocket, but his wrist thaws her fingers before they have a chance to freeze.
Peeta wraps his other arm around her, effectively encasing her in a bubble of heat.
He finally answers once they're well into the street, away from prying ears. "When Prim got — sorted?" He looks at Katniss, who nods in confirmation. "— I think she wrote a letter to everyone she knew. 'You'd be in my house, Peeta, I just know you would,'" he teases affectionately. "'We're right by the kitchens!'"
Katniss chooses not to mention that the locations of individual dormitories is supposed to be a secret.
"Guess she was right," she says instead, tucking the scarf up under his chin. In the pale winter light, you'd barely notice she'd flubbed the colors. "You've got Hufflepuff written all over you."
"Eh, I don't know." Peeta runs his thumb along her scarf, right where it meets her skin. Her breath hitches embarrassingly, and it has nothing to do with his icy hands.
Snowflakes sparkle faintly in Peeta's eyelashes. She even hadn't realized it was snowing.
"I think Slytherins have a pretty good view," he says softly.
"Yeah," she whispers hoarsely. She swallows and tries again. "The lake- "
Amused exasperation fill his eyes, and Katniss wonders if he means what she hopes he did, after all.
"Peeta?" A shrill voice pierces their little bubble of warmth. Tensing, they swivel towards the sound. Peeta's arm falls from Katniss's shoulders as he, ridiculously, tries to maneuver her behind him. She darts around him, reaching for her wand.
"Peeta Mellark?" The speaker is a chubby, blonde Hufflepuff Katniss recognizes from years of shared classes. She doesn't know her name.
Peeta, it seems, does.
"Dells?"
Dells rushes past Katniss and throw her arms around Peeta's neck. Peeta, looking like he's been struck in the head with a bludger, sweeps her into a hug that dangles her feet off the ground.
Katniss clutches ineffectually at her wand. It feels brittle in her fist.
"Peeta," she hisses.
Around them, witches and wizards pause curiously. She presses a hand square into his back and shoves, causing him to stumble. Dells catches her feet, blinking around Peeta's shoulder at Katniss.
"Katniss," she greets enthusiastically, paying no mind to the girl she'd abandoned under an awning, whose eyes are flashing like she's stumbled onto the gossip of the year. Peeta lets go of the pasty blonde, eyeing the handful of onlookers loitering in the street.
"Where can we go?" he whispers, snagging one of Dells's hands and one of Katniss's. She almost shakes him off, but hiding him is more important. She yanks him after her, pettily hoping that it hurts.
Madam Puddifoot's isn't exactly empty, but the couples are too wrapped up in each other to pay any mind to the trio in the corner. When a graying witch ambles over to greet them, Dells quickly orders a pot of tea and a platter of pumpkin tarts.
"Delly," Peeta says once the serving witch disappears into the kitchen. "How could you not tell me?"
"Tell you? Peeta," the girl breathes, caught somewhere between awed and frightened, "what are you doing here?"
"Will someone tell me what's going on?" Katniss snaps, unable to take it any longer. They both look up as if they'd forgotten her entirely.
Peeta recovers first. "Katniss, this is my cousin, Delly Cartwright."
Katniss jerks her head in acknowledgement. She's not sure what she expected, but cousin was definitely not it. Delly smiles, blue eyes bright, and Katniss feels stupid for not noticing the resemblance.
"Dells," Peeta adds, "I guess you know Katniss."
"Oh, not really." Delly waves a hand. "We have a few classes together. But it's so nice to see you, Katniss." She squeezes Katniss's hand, then turns to her cousin, suddenly serious. "But Peeta, how are you here? You're not— Oh, you would have told me if you were, and— " Her eyes flick to his scarf, and her confusion grows.
In a quick undertone, Peeta explains the situation. To hear him tell it he'd practically browbeaten Katniss into the trip after catching her doing magic in town. No matter how artfully he weaves his tale, the holes would be obvious to anyone who's ever held a wand. She tries to protest once or twice, but he waves her off. Somehow, he thinks his version of events will protect her if everything goes awry. It would be sweet if it weren't so irritating.
Delly's eyes soften as he speaks. She reaches across the table to grasp his hand, shooting Katniss a look that's somehow both knowing and sympathetic. "This is so risky, Peeta," she says when he's done.
Peeta nods, squeezing Delly's hand. He looks to Katniss for confirmation. "Katniss said she might get in trouble at school— "
Delly shakes her head, cutting him off. "Not just school, Peeta. If the Ministry finds out, Katniss could face a full criminal hearing. Even after they erase your memory."
She says it so matter of factly, it's clear she thinks she's merely refreshing his memory. Katniss swallows back bile. She'd purposely underplayed the ramifications, knowing Peeta would never agree if she told him what was at stake.
"The Ministry?" he asks flatly. He pulls his hand away, jamming two fingers through the handle of his teacup and clutching it tightly in both hands.
Delly nods worriedly. "They take breaches of The Statute of Secrecy really seriously," she says. She smooths her robes on her lap, eyes darting to Katniss, then back to her cousin. "I could talk to Mum. Aunt Elsbet knows, so maybe- "
"Wait, my mother knows?" His teacup rattles as he jerks his hands free. It lands off-kilter on the tiny plate. "My mother knows about magic," he repeats, as if saying it again might make sense of the words.
Delly reaches over to fix Peeta's teacup, quickly mopping up the spill. Her hands retreat to break apart the half-eaten tart on her plate, as if the right answer might be buried in the filling.
"Delly," Peeta implores. His fingers grip the edge of the table like it's his sanity.
"She's not a Squib," Delly says finally. "Not really."
It's not funny — nothing about it is funny — but a laugh wheezes past Katniss's clenched teeth. The madness of the last hour finally catches up with her, and she finds herself nearly hyperventilating as she tries to keep herself in check.
Mrs. Mellark, the woman who hurls, 'witch,' at her like a curse word, is a Squib.
Peeta cuts sharp eyes on her, and the hysteria bleeds away, leaving hollow nausea in its place. Delly continues with nary a pause, either forgiving her callousness or choosing to ignore it.
"Gran was a witch, but you know Grandpa Aldous worked in a factory. Even Gran's parents were half-and-half, according to Mum. It's- " Delly sighs, tossing the pastry crumbs back onto her plate. "Our bloodline doesn't have a lot of magic left," she admits.
As the silence stretches, Katniss adds her own awkward explanation. "A Squib's someone born into a magical family that can't do magic. Some stay in wizarding communities, but mostly they try to assimilate with Muggles. It's . . . " she trails off.
With the way most families talk about — or rather, don't talk about — Squibs, it's remarkable that Peeta even met his grandparents. She bites her lip, feeling even guiltier for her reaction.
"It's pretty stigmatized," she finishes lamely.
There's a muscle ticking in Peeta's jaw. He watches the couples at nearby tables like the answers to his questions might lie somewhere between their clasped hands. She can tell he's casting back into his memory, viewing his life through a new lens. It's clear he doesn't like what he sees.
When he finally speaks, his voice is tight. "So when we were kids and Mum switched me when I told her our dough dolls came to life . . .?"
Delly's face crumples. "I wanted to tell you, Peeta! But Mum said we had to make up a story, so she rigged the dolls up with some fishing line, and . . . and . . . " She reaches toward him, but he shies away. Tears shine in her eyes, but they stay earnestly fixed on her cousin. "Peeta, it's the law."
Her words echo in Katniss's head, making her queasy. The law, the law, the law.
Peeta's fingers clench on the table. Then he heaves a sigh, shoulders sagging. "I know, Dells. You don't have to apologize."
Delly reaches over, and this time Peeta doesn't pull away. "I'll talk to her with you, tell her I- "
"No!" Katniss interrupts, panicked.
Delly and Peeta swivel to face her, and she shrinks back in her chair. It's not fair of her to shoehorn her way into their family business. Not when the whole mess is her fault to begin with.
But apparently fair isn't in her nature.
She squares her shoulders and leans forward, intent. "Peeta, your mum will call the Ministry on me. You know she will. They'll erase your memory and- " She takes a halting breath. It's bad enough without the 'and.'
Delly grabs Katniss's hand in what she imagines is a show of solidarity. Katniss's hand spasms in what she hopes is a grateful squeeze.
Peeta stares back at her, face inscrutable. That muscle keeps ticking in his jaw. It's like there's a string tying it to Katniss's heart, yanking painfully with every minute shift.
"Lev and Rye can't know," Delly says. "Or Uncle Farl. I want to tell them Peeta, I do," she says before he can protest, "but that will put us in a hot cauldron with the Ministry for sure."
He curses, scrubbing his hands through his hair. His fingers leave pale streaks on the skin at his temples. Katniss watches them bleed red, fade, and return to their normal hue.
"Right," he says, looking none too pleased. "Nothing for it."
When his eyes meet Katniss's, his smile is swift and mirthless. "At least we know why Mum hates you now."
Katniss only hopes that she's the only one. Between the disaster last June and the mess they're still crawling out of, Peeta could easily never talk to her again.
"Pretty lousy first date," she jokes halfheartedly.
Delly drops her hand in shock, sitting back in her chair. "Oh, Peeta! I'm so sorry!" She presses a palm to her heart, face contrite. "If I'd have known . . ."
Against all odds, Peeta's lips twitch. He snortles, mouth pressed flat. Before long he's laughing, a sound deep in his chest that seems to release years of tension before he's done.
Katniss crosses her arms and scowls, sure he's laughing at her. Delly's hands flutter in her lap, but self-preservation must finally kick in, because she makes no move to interrupt.
"Yeah," Peeta says at last, sliding his hand across the table. "You sure know how to pick 'em, Katniss."
She stares at his palm, open and inviting. It's an effort to unclench her fists, but when she places her hand in his, heart fluttering like mad, she feels oddly at peace.
This isn't over, she realizes dimly. The world's about to change.
But she pushes that thought aside for another time. For now, she lets her traitorous lips spread into a smile. "Next time," she promises, "We're doing something normal."