Here we come with episode 2! I hope you will enjoy it!

The Art of Stealing Hearts

1.

Haymitch hated teaching.

It wasn't the first time the Council forged degrees and recommendations for him to be hired at a school as a History teacher and, mostly, he could do the job alright. History went surprisingly hand in hand with the study of demonology and it wasn't like the standards at Seam High were really demanding to begin with. But, oh, how he hated having to deal with hormonal teenagers all day long… Sure, it allowed him to keep an eye on Katniss and to be close at hands if his Slayer needed him. But it was also a pain.

The thing he really hated about teaching though? Even more than the teenagers and the endless drama? The paperwork that schools required from time to time.

He liked Plutarch Heavensbee well enough. He was a nice guy if a little smug for someone who had ended up at the head of a school with the highest rate of suspicious disappearances in the country… He didn't like, however, how obsessed the man was with written reports, forms and memos. Everything that happened in his teachers' classrooms, Plutarch had to know about. You wanted to send a kid to detention? You had to fill two forms detailing the incident that had led to the punishment as well as the reasons you felt it necessary to assign detention. It was such a pain that most of the teachers had renounced giving out detentions at all.

Except, Marvel Quaid had gone and tossed a water balloon at Glimmer Rambin in the middle of third period the other day – because she had been wearing a ridiculously short white dress and boys that age were obsessed with girls and, to add insult to injury, the water balloon in question had turned out to be a condom – and he had had no other choice but to give out detention. And a lecture.

Fuck, but he hated his job.

Plutarch had been on his case about him not having filled the proper paperwork for days at this point and it was starting to become more irritating to have to listen to the Principal's gentle chiding than it would have been to fill the form.

So he had filled the form.

He grumbled under his breath about stupid boys full of hormones and zero brain cells all the way to the Principal's office and glared at all the kids who dared stumble into his path. More than one shouted a greeting. For whatever reason, through no fault of his own, most of his students seemed to like him. Maybe because he had a policy that he didn't really care what they were up to in his classroom as long as they didn't bother him – it didn't matter at all to him if they were listening to him rattling out random dates and facts, most days he selected a documentary on the computer and let the machine do the job for him.

The secretary's office – the antechamber to Plutarch's office because the man liked to pretend he was a Secretary of State and not a school Principal – was just as busy as usual and the new assistant – a fancy title that was probably more fashionable than plain old secretary – didn't seem to know what to prioritize.

Haymitch settled for leaning against the wall next to the Biology teacher and wait his turn. He answered Felindra Tigris's greeting with a smile and a polite nod. She was pretty in an odd sort of way, with red hair that made him think of a lion's mane and eyes you couldn't help but stare back at. She was a flirt too and Haymitch tended to flirt back simply because it had been a long time since he had gotten laid and he was starting to feel the urge to scratch that particular itch.

They exchanged recent stories about students while they waited for the secretary to finish tearing whoever she was talking to on the phone to shreds. Haymitch had forgotten her name. She had only been there for a little over a week, the previous assistant had become vampire snacks and she had just been replaced. There was a lot of turnover on the staff front. But, then again, it was the Seam. Teachers had already had a limited lifespan when he had been in school. The proximity of the Hellmouth wasn't helping.

Whatever her name was, she was attractive. She had curves but he had never minded that and he was certainly enjoying the low cut shirt she was wearing. The silver flowers tattooed on her left cheek were a little shocking at first but he had seen worse fashion statements in his time.

Hell, there had been that time in his youth when mullets had been in fashion and he had fancied himself a rebel…

"Is Plutarch in?" he asked hopefully the moment she placed the phone back on its cradle. "I've got those detention forms for him…"

"Principal Heavensbee is with the new Art teacher. Leave them with me." the woman sighed, her lips pursed. She almost glared at the slightly crumpled sheets of paper he placed on the corner of her desk. "I have never seen so much paperwork anywhere else I worked at. I will end up buried under papers."

"Send an sos and I'll come rescue you." he half-joked, half-offered. Yeah, he really was feeling that itch. "Sorry, I forgot your name."

"Fulvia." she answered with a bright smile. "Fulvia Cardew…" She glanced at the paper. "Mr Abernathy."

"Haymitch." He grinned.

"And what do you teach, Haymitch?" she asked, tilting her head to the side. Given that she was sitting at her desk and he was standing up, it gave him a very nice view down her…

"History." Felindra cut in, sounding both amused and a little vexed. Next thing he knew, the Biology teacher was standing right next to him and was running her hand down his arm. He lost all interest in Fulvia because, really, when push came to shove, Felindra Tigris just had that little something that made him… "If you are finished, Haymitch… I hate to chase you but I do have some request forms to fill for more lab rats and you know Plutarch always wants those in triplicate…"

"Triplicate!" Fulvia gasped.

Haymitch wisely decided to retreat before he could be swept into the paperwork of hell. He buried his hands in his pockets as he briskly walked back to his classroom, his mind busy contemplating the prospects of taking some remedial Biology lessons… There was a new spring to his steps and he was whistling a little, he nodded back to the students who greeted him, feeling in a much better mood than ten minutes earlier. Being free of paperwork was good.

"Are you drunk?" Katniss mocked with a lifted eyebrow when they crossed paths as she was headed to her Math class. Old Woof was impatiently waving the latecomers into his classroom, snatching baseball caps off heads as they went, and Haymitch was suddenly very happy to have a period off. Another hour he didn't have to deal with idiots was a good hour.

"If only." he snorted, shoving her toward the classroom. She tossed him a glare but he knew he hadn't hurt her, for one: superstrength; for another: nobody could have guessed she had half-burned to death a mere two weeks earlier. "Go get an education."

He had work of his own to do.

He left the door of his classroom open behind him simply because it would spare him the effort of having to stand up and open it for his next class, and settled behind his desk. Then he pulled out the now crumpled sketch of Cashmere's face they didn't need anymore – because when a woman tried to kill you, you tended not to forget her face so easily – and a couple of Watcher journals. There were thousands of them and so far he hadn't been very lucky. He hadn't found a mention of Cashmere or who the 'others' who were supposed to follow her into town could be and he hadn't, either, figured out how they were planning on freeing the worst vampire Haymitch had ever had the displeasure to meet from his hell prison.

He skimmed through the life of a Slayer who had lived in the beginning of the sixties, growing a little frustrated by the long and not so fruitful search. He had been on it for two weeks already and he was starting to wonder if focusing on the Slayers from the last century was a good idea after all. It had seemed like a logical choice. If she had been older than one hundred years old, chances were he would have heard of Cashmere before… Vampires who lived that long tended to get famous for slaughter or attempts at triggering an apocalypse or two. There were exceptions though of course…

He was contemplating fishing his flask out of his desk for a small gulp when there was a quick joyful knock on the doorframe of his classroom. And then he remembered why he liked to keep his door shut.

He looked up and winced not too welcomingly at Plutarch. But then his eyes glided behind the principal and to her and the gibe he had been about to blurt out remained stuck in his throat. The woman was beautiful in a way nobody had any business being beautiful.

She was tall – although that might have to do with the towering heels she was perched on – she was wearing a dove grey high-waist pencil skirt that only showed off the shape and length of her legs, her white blouse had some pink frills that might have looked more ridiculous if she hadn't possessed a regal bearing… His eyes lingered on the legs and stopped on her breasts – not much there but just enough to be appealing – traveled up her slender neck and to her face where an amused smile stretched her red-painted lips. Confidence was written on every of her slightly aristocratic features and he decided she was one of those women who knew the effect they had on other people and had no qualm playing with it. Her blond hair looked curly but it was tamed in a professional if a little fancy bun and her eyes, when he finally met them, were so very blue he faltered for a second.

She was beautiful, there was no other term for it. So beautiful, she chased any idea of Remedial Biology right out of his head.

What had Fulvia said? That Plutarch was with a new teacher? He couldn't remember what the stranger was supposed to teach but he was pretty sure he was going to develop a sudden interest for the subject.

"Morning, Haymitch." Plutarch greeted with his usual exuberance. A positive attitude was apparently important when you were trying to run a school. "I'm sorry to disturb you but I was wondering about those forms…"

"Just dropped them off on your secretary's desk." he grumbled, not even fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

"Assistant." he corrected, stepping into the classroom, the woman right behind him. "Very good. Very good. Oh, where are my manners!" He gestured at the woman who stepped forward with a bright smile that made his stomach clench. "Meet Miss Trinket, our new Art teacher. I was just giving her the tour. Effie, this is Haymitch Abernathy, our History teacher."

"Nice to meet you." she politely offered. He shook the hand she outstretched but didn't release it at once. There was something about the way she talked, the rhythm… She wasn't from around there, that was for sure. Her amusement seemed to increase for some reason. "May I have my hand back?"

He let go of her hand without hurrying, tilting his head to the side to study her better. "British?"

Hastily concealed surprise flashed on her face. She looked a little put out. "Most people are not able to tell."

And, suddenly, he lost all interest. Suspicion was rising its ugly head and her looks weren't enough to make him ignore it. Coincidences were possible, of course. But a British woman getting hired at a school in the backend of the country when the Council was so reluctant to take his calls lately? Not likely.

Besides, she looked like a poster child for a Watcher. Wealthy, full of herself and entitled. He was ready to bet she came from a long line of Watchers too, that was kind of a family business after all, handed down from fathers to sons – or in some cases, although it was rare, daughters. He was the exception to the rule, brought into the job by fate, life and the woman who had raised him to become one.

"Really?" he snorted. "With that posh accent, seems obvious to me."

She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, any trace of amusement gone. "Perhaps my accent is posh but you are lacking in the manners department."

"So sorry, your highness…" he mocked. "You want me to bow?"

"Miss Trinket comes straight from London, Haymitch." Plutarch cut in with a diplomatic tone but a chiding look for him. "Her references are impressive. We were lucky to find her."

"I'm sure…" he sneered. "And what brings such a catch to our little town? Let me guess… You've got a taste for the wildlife… We do have a nice collection of strange animals in the Seam."

She didn't so much as blink, her face remained neutral. At least, she had a good poker face. That, or he was entirely wrong and she wasn't at all there to spy on him.

But they had sent Finnick last time and he knew Coin only trusted him as far as she could toss him. A part of him had been waiting for the Council to make a move ever since he had called in to report suspicious activities around the Hellmouth.

"My family lives in the States and I have been away from them too long." she replied. If it was a lie, he couldn't detect it.

"And where do they live exactly?" he insisted.

"Los Angeles." she answered with obvious reluctance. Probably because she had no business settling down in a town in rural Virginia if her parents were on the opposite coast. And she knew she was caught.

He smirked in triumph. "Either you're not very good at geography or you got lost."

"I happen to like the country." she huffed with a small glare before turning to the Principal with a miffed expression on her face. "I do apologize, Principal Heavensbee, I thought you were the one conducting job interviews in this school. It was also my understanding that I was already hired."

Plutarch laughed a fake laugh as if her joke was hilarious.

It wasn't.

"Isn't she charming?" he asked Haymitch in a warning tone. "I am sure you two will be the best of friends in no time at all. You have so much in common. Haymitch is a new addition to our school too…"

"The rate you're losing your staff, I'm one of the oldest by now." Haymitch commented, still studying her in a way that was neither polite nor as disinterested as he wanted it to be.

"And he did a lot of traveling, not unlike you. Didn't you, Haymitch?" Plutarch insisted, ignoring his intervention. "Effie was just telling me she has been pretty much everywhere around the globe. Haymitch was quite the globetrotter himself before he settled down here."

"Were you, now?" the woman hummed with utter lack of interest. Then, her gaze fell on Cashmere's portrait and Haymitch quickly thrust it between the pages of his book and snapped that shut. Her eyes lingered on the leather bound journal. "You should be careful with those old books. They look precious."

"Don't you worry about these books." He scowled. "They're in the right hands."

She lifted her eyebrows. "I doubt books that look that ancient have any business laying unattended in a high school classroom. They should be in a library handled with care. And special gloves. But I am sure you know better than I do, of course."

She wasn't wrong there but he certainly wasn't going to admit it. If his mother's Watcher could see what he was doing with those journals, she would have his hide.

"You're a book expert on top of being an Art teacher?" he challenged. Was she even trying to keep her cover?

"You will find I am an expert in many things, Mr Abernathy." she retorted with a grin that, while being perfectly innocent, somehow managed to convey that the meaning behind her words was not.

He felt himself smirk. Not entirely on purpose. And he didn't avert his eyes because he wouldn't look away first. If she wanted to make this difficult, he would be happy to oblige.

Plutarch muffled a cough into his fist.

She let her gaze linger a second longer before turning toward the Principal, just long enough to let him know he hadn't won anything but that the match had to be postponed for now. "Perhaps we could continue our tour? I am fairly sure I do not need to be so well acquainted with Mr Abernathy's classroom."

"Of course, of course." Plutarch approved, gesturing at her to precede him outside. He stopped halfway to the door though and turned back to Haymitch, prompting the woman to do the same. "While I've got you here and before I forget… Gale Hawthorne has been camping in my office again… Is there absolutely no way you could convince Miss Everdeen to get back on the archery team?"

Haymitch really didn't want to discuss his Slayer in front of a potential Council spy.

"I've told you before, she's focusing on other things right now." he dismissed.

"Her family situation isn't ideal, of course." Plutarch sighed. "I suppose as long as she stays out of trouble… It is just… Gale claims she is working for you after school?"

He frowned. "So what?"

He was acutely aware that Trinket was studying her manicure while pretending not to listen in the very attitude of someone who was obviously eavesdropping.

"Well, he made it sound… He seems to be worried you are… Somehow… Abusing your position." Plutarch awkwardly winced. "I set him straight, of course. But maybe…"

"I ain't gonna kick the girl out just 'cause a kid can't handle rejection." he warned before the man could even finish that thought. "I ain't just her teacher or some stranger to her, I'm a family friend. I came back here to take care of her, I explained that to you. And even if that wasn't a thing.. She's just a kid. You really think I would…"

"No. I do not." Plutarch cut him off firmly. "Like I said, I set him straight. I know you have been helping them out and, to be honest, it's good to see Katniss not looking like she just escaped some prison camp… She's obviously fed, she hasn't been arrested yet and she has even made friends lately. On my end, there is no problem, I am happy to see it work out so well. But rumors are pesky things and…"

"I don't care much for rumors." he spat.

"Even so." the man sighed. "Perhaps, you could encourage her to have a chat with her friend? Clear the air." He glanced at Trinket and made a face. "I apologize, this was a matter we should have discussed in my office. I would not want you to get ideas, Effie. Katniss is a young troubled girl Haymitch has taken under his wing. There is absolutely nothing untoward going on but you know teenagers…"

"My kid ain't troubled." he growled while the woman was making polite no-no noises.

"I do not care much for that label either." she remarked. "I am sure she is a lovely young lady."

He almost chuckled at the look Katniss would have if anyone ever called her a lady to her face.

"She's a good kid." he answered, in a softer tone. And she would be a great Slayer given the chance. She had the drive to survive. But that would be easier if the Watcher Council didn't meddle.

Trinket smiled at him. "I cannot wait to meet her."

He spent a long time after Plutarch had ushered her away wondering if that had been genuine or if it had been a threat.

Sooooo Effie arrived! What did you think? Let me know your thoughts!