Chapter 6: Giving In

Katniss's POV

As the weeks pass and the seasons change, Ron and I gradually grow closer. Not long after our duel with the buck, the young Peacekeeper Captain becomes a regular on my hunts at least once a day. It has been so long since I have had a hunting buddy, my former companion - Gale Hawthorne - having died in a mine collapse several years ago. Coming back from his death has been hard, and I find myself being unusually open with Ron about even this.

At first, Ron's eagerness to come along on my hunts leaves me suspicious, especially when he often insists on embarking upon it while still wearing his white-plated uniform. He's a Peacekeeper. Isn't accompanying someone over the district fence on an illegal mission technically going against his commanding officer's orders? I have to brush the concern aside when I remember that some Peacekeepers actually have traded with me for illegal contraband in the Hob, when their orders dictate that they should really be burning the black market to the ground and throwing every offending vendor in the stocks. Ron is merely finding the loopholes that have been left gaping wide in District 12 policing policy going back decades. And besides, he's a Captain, of decently high rank, perhaps he feels his job will be protected no matter what treasonous activities he indulges in now and again. Cray certainly doesn't give a shit, by and large, about what the men under his command do or even how they do it; it's a wonder the old man's ass hasn't been fired, or at the very least commissioned a transfer and hurried quietly away.

Ultimately, I have to figure that Ron knows what he's doing, and that - as he has already proven to me - he won't tell a soul about how I came to collect such good game. Or more importantly, where.

Ron makes his home with the others in the Peacekeeper Barracks with little fanfare, shacking up in a tiny hut with his fiancé, Hermione. A Peacekeeper living with a spouse or mistress or any woman at all has never been seen before, at least not in this district. If there is one thing Cray is strict about, it's that his men lead a militarized lifestyle infused with almost blanket celibacy. Perhaps this is because Cray wants to keep all the lovely pickings all to himself. Or perhaps he knows if he gives his troops too loose a leash, word could get back to the Capitol and he really could get fired. And a transgression like that might be the only thing that would do it. Not that it would matter if, say, an officer committed sexual assault and the victim outed them. We ordinary citizens have very little to almost zero power here in District 12. The Peacekeepers keep a monopoly on nearly all of that, too. If Cray ever was toppled from his perch, it would be because the bad PR would bring too much to bear on President Snow's regime.

In any event, Captain Ronald Weasley appears to have it all figured out.

Before I know it, a full year and a half has passed since the engaged couple mysteriously just appeared here in District 12. But the pair have acclimated well, soon conversing with the locals - Town and Seam alike - as if they have always lived here. Peeta was right when he said that intra-district refugees are almost nonexistent, that day that Ron and Hermione first arrived. District 12, like all other districts, is closed off and self-contained, right down to its people. Everybody has known everybody else for decades. One might say we are all practically inbred; almost everybody is somehow related to each other here, even across Town and Seam lines sometimes. The only question is by how many degrees. Many people often said that Gale and I could conceivably pass as cousins, our Seam features resembled each other so.

Now, it is winter once again, and the little I have managed to trek into the woods with Ron has told me that it will prove to be as unforgiving a winter as the last one was, if not more so.

Sometimes, I try to muddle through, and other times the snowbanks are so deep, or the tracks and scat so few and far between, that I have to throw in the towel for the day and return to the Hob close to empty-handed. It is at these moments that Ron will often doggedly struggle on alone. He's determined, I'll grant him that much. And he has come so far in his hunting abilities since just 18 short months ago. He has a family to feed, too - that beautiful fiancé of his, soon-to-be-wife. It is with an odd pang that I wonder when they will Toast the bread, or perform whatever marriage ritual is common back in their District 10 homeland.

One winter's evening, I get finished late in keeping Prim's and my house. I had a lot of more... domestic chores today that I largely despise doing, so that they are often put off until nearly all our clothes smell, or the leak just cannot be ignored any longer. I couldn't meet Ron to go hunting this morning; odds are he went alone. But I want to at least get one kill in - a squirrel, maybe - before retiring for the night. I kind of have to: squirrel might be the best we can get for supper. That my family is still barely staving off starvation, despite my most determined efforts, is depressing. That Prim's child, my niece, is still alive is remarkable. I don't want her to suffer needlessly.

The sun is sinking over the tops of the treeline as I enter the woods beyond the fence. I figure myself to be alone, especially at this late hour, and I will have to hurry before dusk, because that's when the district fence goes on. It is really supposed to be on all year round, around the clock, but... just another license Cray has taken with his own job. All the same, I don't exactly fancy climbing the large tree whose branch extends over the chainlink and dropping from there to the ground. It is not exactly the safest escape route in the world, so I don't employ it if I can avoid doing so. These factors make me hurry, be less cautious than I normally would.

So I am surprised when I hear a rustling in the leaves beside me. I'm not alone.

Warily, but inquisitively, I follow the rustling into an expansive clearing, largely devoid of trees or any other underbrush. Just across the clearing, at another edge of it, is Ron, partially concealed amidst the foliage. He does not see me, but I follow his gaze to what he is staring at: a prize bear. One of the biggest I have ever seen.

My heart leaps into my throat, for myself but mostly for him. Bear is one of the few meats I don't pursue in my hunts, and for good reason: I'm too small. I couldn't possibly take down game that size! And yet Ron thinks he can, on what I would only term a suicide mission.

But Ron doesn't fire an arrow. He doesn't even remove his bow - the one I gifted him not long after his first excursion with me. Instead, he pulls a medium-sized stick from his pocket... and points it at the bear.

He's going to try and take down a grazing black bear several times his own size... with a stick. What is he thinking?

"PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!" he bellows.

The bear doesn't even have a chance to run. His entire body suddenly goes rigamortis, all over, without explanation. The animal topples to the ground. Ron is as calm as can be, not even approaching for a closer inspection. He points the stick again. "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

A flash of green light surrounds the bear, hitting it full on for a moment before disappearing. A memory from our first hunt together comes back to me - the green flash of light I thought I saw around the arrow when Ron took down that buck.

"Now you're dead," Ron says seemingly to himself. "Katniss will be pleased with the meal you'll bring."

I am speechless. The bear is... dead? Just like that? And what's more: he brought it down for me? Not for Hermione, but for me?

I dare to emerge from the trees, a hand over my mouth in astonishment, while I stare at Ron as though I have never seen him before.

As soon as Ron meets my gaze, he jumps in a panic, obviously not expecting me.

"How did you do that?" I whisper. "Who are you?" I have to know.

Ron quickly regains his easy smile. "You might not believe me if I told you. But it doesn't change a whole lot. Katniss... I'm still me!" And he takes my hand with a reassuring grin once I am within his reach.

I frown, somewhat skeptically, almost amused. I peer at him the way a child might, trying to figure something out. Shaking, I reach out a hand and run my fingers through the long red hair at the nape of his neck, pondering it. Then, my gaze shifts so I can stare into those deep, bashful, robin's-egg blue eyes...

My face widens into a relieved beam of recognition. Ron would never lie to me. I have never trusted any man the way I trust him. "It is you!" I cry out, reaching out to cup his cheek.

The intimacy of the action is bold, especially for me, so I shiver when Ron actually caresses his big paw of a hand across my face, though I smile shyly. Our stares lock as we gaze into each other's eyes. And there it is again, how I am drawn to him like a magnet. Ron has now cupped my entire face in his hands, tilting my chin upwards. I barely register how my hands, which have somehow come to rest lightly against his chest, are now curling into fists, bunching the fabric of his white tunic. Ron dips his head closer. The tiny, rational part of my brain is screaming at me that this is wrong, that this man is engaged to another woman, wishes to marry her. And yet, I don't care, as I admit to myself the pining attraction I have felt for Ron, and a simmering jealousy for Hermione, for all these many months.

What tips the scale is Ron's voice ringing in my head, even though his face has given no indication of speaking any words aloud: Kiss me, Katniss. Now.

It is as though my brain is no longer my own. I prime myself to obey without question. Tilting my head, I permit Ron to close the gap between us and kiss me full on the mouth. Instantly, my eyes close.

All at once, the wind picks up. A tornado of blue light suddenly surrounds us. Startled, I throw my arms about Ron's neck so that my hands splay across his muscular back, parting my pliant lips for his hard, unyielding ones so as to deepen the kiss. My brown hair comes loose from its braid and literally stands on end, flapping upwards like a banner; Ron's lengthy crop of red hair seems to have done the same. It matters not at the present moment. All I want to do is kiss Captain Ronald Weasley senseless.

And as I kiss this man, and as he kisses me back, I hear a piercing WHEEZ, followed by explosions, as though our kiss has literally sent fireworks whizzing and exploding into the nighttime sky above District 12. And after what I have just witnessed, I would not be surprised if that was exactly the case.

After a long moment, Ron and I reluctantly pull out of the kiss, our arms still around each other, the blue inferno gone. I gape in utter shock. This was the best kiss I have ever received in my life, quite honestly, and that is saying something, considering I only have the taste of one other man's lips to compare it to. But Ron Weasley is a far better kisser than Peeta Mellark ever was. No contest. His stronger, more calloused hands felt better against my skin than those of the young Baker.

"What was that?" I murmur, still shaken by the impossible things I have seen.

Ron grins broadly. "Magic. I'm a wizard, Katniss. I came here with Hermione after touching some magical rings, all the way from the year 2006."

I gasp. The current year here in Panem is early 2102. This man, the man I have fallen head over heels in love with, is some kind of sorcerer? From nearly a century in the past?

Ron must notice who improbable it sounds. He takes me in his arms anew gently. "Come, Katniss, would I ever lie to you?"

I think on it for a moment, but only for a moment, before catching his eyes and holding them. "No," I say simply. Then I yank his lips down so I can mash them against mine again.

Hermione's POV

The Bakery closed not too long ago. Peeta and I have been shut up inside, cleaning. And it's better that we are here. The evening chores allow us to avoid getting caught in the storm hanging over the Town and the Seam. Judging by the fading light of the sun in the distance, I notice the ominous clouds haven't quite reached the edge of the district, where Ron says there is a fence separating some woods beyond - a report from his first patrols as a Peacekeeper. But the storm will eventually head south towards there soon. I hope. I have to get home soon, back to the Barracks, and meet Ron when he brings home our dinner. I know he gets the game from the forests, at great risk to himself and his Peacekeeper duties; Katniss Everdeen apparently taught him how to hunt.

The clouds are so dark and gloomy, that Peeta has already lit the candles for the evening. Only residents affiliated with the Capitol - in other words, the local government - have access to electric light. I don't know how Peeta's family managed a lightbulb down in their basement - the only exception I can think of - but it's beat up anyway and serves its almost insignificant purpose well enough.

As I have come to know quite a lot in the past 18 months we have lived in Panem, all without discovering the secret to having the rings return Ron and I home, I can sense when Peeta is near me.

"You can stay with me tonight. If you don't want to deal with the rain." His soft voice sends a shiver down my spine, and butterflies fill my stomach in a way they most definitely should not. As they have whenever Peeta is close. Or looks at me. Or laughs or smiles.

I turn my head to look back at him, where he is standing behind and just to the side of me. "Oh no, I couldn't possibly..."

"Hermione:" Peeta's blue eyes... eyes as blue as a summer sky... smolder into my brown pupils, burning a hole into my very soul. I feel my eyelids grow heavy, my lashes flitting down only briefly as I dare to peek at Peeta's full lips. Peeta Mellark would have made a remarkable wizard, for the spell he has so clearly cast on me. The effect that he has on me...

The thought of Ron hovers just at the recesses of my mind, but it is enough for me to take pause. The potential here is something that can never be. We have to both see that...

"Peeta... I can't... I'm engaged..." He only drifts closer. "I'm engage-Mmmmm!" My words are cut off and I can only let out a confused whimper, as Peeta captures my lips with his. My eyes flutter shut in pleasure, and I stand stock-still, unwilling to pull away, as I allow myself to relax into the kiss. After a moment, we slide apart.

I stare at Peeta in wonder, my flushed and kissed lips slightly parted, letting in the gasp as I now fully realize what we have just done.

As I now fully realize I have fallen in love with another man, one who is not my "fiancé."

As I now fully realize how little I care.

"Bloody hell!" I snarl. Grabbing Peeta's shirt in my fists, I yank him forward and crash my mouth against his, kissing him back. Peeta closes his eyes in triumph as my hands caress his jawline, our lips molding and flexing into each other's oh so softly and easily. Kissing Peeta is like kissing feathers. Or butter. The smoothest touch I have ever known.

It is not long before I feel Peeta's arms scoop under my thighs, sweeping me off my feet. Draping my arms languidly about his neck, I allow him to carry me off...

Katniss's POV

The dark clouds rumble above us, warning of impending rain. Maybe even lightning.

I don't care. I have already been struck by a much better kind of lightning, its plasmic shock alighting me from the hairs on my head to the tips of my toes.

Deep in the clearing - our clearing - Ron wriggles on top of me as our sweaty, naked bodies undulate against each other. He is not a gentle lover, not in the way Peeta was, as he thrusts roughly in and out of me, making us look truly like two animals in heat. I don't mind. I like rough. I can handle rough, for I have my own fire. A fire within me that is as red hot as the roots of Ron's gorgeously long hair.

It is these locks of hair that I now sink my fingernails into, yanking Ron even deeper into a fierce and already plenty indecent kiss with a low groan. He doesn't seem to protest in the slightest. Our tongues are down each other's throats, battling for dominance to see who will be crowned the better kisser. Who will become the victor. The Victor of the Kissing Games. The Victor of the Fucking Games - literally.

Ron's lips spring from my own as he begins to plant open-mouthed kisses into the skin of my jaw and neck, occasionally biting with his teeth, nipping my flesh. Branding me, marking me as his. I relish it.

I rock myself forward, snapping up to meet every slam of his penis into my tight, dripping wet vagina. I bare my teeth like a wild thing, aroused and without any pretense for being tender, much less polite. The first should not exist in the bedroom, in my humble opinion. The second just plain does not exist. In my bedroom, or anyone else's, or wherever people go to do the dirty deed, whether it's the mattress or the goddamn forest floor. "FUCK. ME. RON. FUCK ME HARD!"

He does as I command, throwing my spread-wide, bare thighs over his shoulders to work me at a better angle, hitting my favorite spots just right. Panem, not even Peeta learned, memorized my body this quickly.

I growl long and low as I clench my leg muscles around his torso, sealing him closer to me. At last -

"RONALD!" I have never called him by his full first name before, so perhaps that is what makes this first orgasm so special. As it should be special. Because Ron is special to me, no... extraordinary. He's a wizard - with both that stick he calls a wand, as well as the... other wand he calls his dick.

Ron roars as he explodes inside of me a moment later, flopping on top of me, his weight nearly crushing me, but I keep him off just enough so I can breathe. Stopping to collect ourselves, we get lost in tender, passionate kisses, our lips smacking the only sounds other than the owls in the night...

Hermione's POV

I am covered in flour. It is in my bushy brown hair, on my clothes. On my skin. In the dripping wet folds of what makes me a woman, deposited there like pollen as Peeta's manhood slides in and out of me, moving along the best bloody sex I have ever had. And I have only taken one other man in my bed, only slept in the carnal sense with one other.

Our arms clasped tightly about each other in a heated embrace, our lips almost fused together, Peeta and I roll about the floor of the bakery's kitchen, back behind the counter where no one can see. It is a second round of lovemaking even more amazing than the first - from moments ago, when Peeta carried me grandly into the bakery's basement and had me up against the wall, by the light of the old electric bulb.

"Mmmm... Mmmmmm... Hmmmmmm..." I moan like a dirty London whore into Peeta's mouth, my lips vibrating against his and making him part his own lips for my tongue's safe passage. I smirk against his insistent mouth, very pleased with myself.

"I love you, Peeta!" I whisper into his kiss, my voice strangely hoarse from a likely lack of use, and the handsome baker trembles in my arms.

I love how Peeta makes love to me. He is gentle and kind and attentive - the exact opposite of Ron, who ascribed more to the method of sloppily kisses and ripping at my clothes so he could get me on my back fast.

At last, our rolling on the floor halts, and we rock slightly as I end up on top, straddling my bare thighs over Peeta's hips, my simple dress riding up high so as to reveal my naked ass, unencumbered by a clear lack of panties. (The offending garments are lying, tossed and crumpled, in some corner somewhere, as Peeta undressed with his hands as well as his eyes). Smiling impishly down at my paramour, I begin the roll of my hips starting down at my buttocks and all the way up my spine and bare back. The only thing keeping my dress on my body are my hips which are far too bony for my liking. But Peeta still stares at me adoringly. This kind, sweet man probably does not give hippogriff's arse what I look like. The way he gazes at me, I might as well be the most beautiful goddess in the world.

I throw back my head in ecstasy as Peeta rams his penis up into me. "Uhhhh... Grrrr... OHHHHH! Oh my... of my Godric... of my goodness..." My walls clench tight around his member, ready to milk all I can from him. My eyes roll into the back of my skull, my jaw goes nearly unhinged. "PEETA!" I cum harder than I ever had, than I ever did with Ron. I orgasm all around this Adonis of a man. Drooping in exhaustion over him, Peeta rewards my efforts with a deep, sensuous kiss that leaves me begging for more.

"You are amazing, love," he beams, and I acquiesce to his kissing me once again...