VIII.

She wore a slim, navy dress with flats. It underlined her tiny waist and the small physique she possessed. She looked breakable. Like a doll meant to be protected and cared for.

That was until she opened her mouth.

"You are top of your class back in District 12. A dedicated student who has read all the books," started Skeeter, looking very bored. "One of your instructors noted you had plenty of extracurricular activities. What is your favorite activity?" Skeeter paused, as if she couldn't remember the tribute's name. "Hermione?"

He knew it was going to be bad when she stood up straighter, a gleam in her eye. She breathed in deeply.

"I am the proud founder of a movement called S.P.E.W."

"Spew?" asked Skeeter. She gave a little side-eye to the audience, as if asking, can you all believe this girl?

Hermione's shrill, loud voice sliced through the quiet tittering. She glared straight at the audience, as if daring them to laugh some more. "It stands for Society for Promotion of Elfish Welfare. The elves are treated poorly by their owners, and they have been brainwashed—"

Skeeter full-on barked in amusement. "Brainwashed? They are perfectly happy with their servitude."

Now he was certain he wasn't the only one who wanted to tear her into pieces. Albeit for different reasons. If she felt this way about house elves, without a doubt, she would possessed ten times the passion for the Hunger Games. And he could only imagine her fury against the Capitol itself.

Her attitude, her questions, her fight was treasonous. House elves liberation was officially not on the list of treasonous thoughts, but he would not be surprised if the President place house elf liberation on the list when this Hunger Game was over.

Skeeter managed to cough and not-so-discreetly rolled her eyes at every moment possible. She gave up on trying to ask Hermione any further questions, choosing to give facial reactions. Hermione's voice continued, gradually becoming louder and louder with each near-traitorous word coming out of her mouth.

Perhaps she had a wish to die.

Or perhaps, she was insurgent. With a plan to undermine the games.

He had to admit it to himself, she knew how to make it count in the three minutes of attention she possessed. To use the interview rules of the Capitol against them by skirting around near-treasonous thoughts.

He wondered what else she could do. A small smile curved his lips.