A/N: edited 02/01/15

There's a Harry Potter reference in here somewhere. It's pretty obvious.

Chapter 22: The Winter Ball

Katniss

District 12's Annual Winter Ball isn't really a ball at all.

As Christmas Day approaches, the streets of the Merchant Quarters slowly become more festive, with garlands and ribbons and pretty lights in some shops and homemade wreaths getting pinned to doorways and shop fronts. I can remember my Dad taking me to the Winter Ball once, when I was about eight years old, leaving Mom and Prim in front of the fire with colds.

"When I was a boy, we used to be able to have rides on the old shire horses down into town," he would tell me, squeezing my hand little hand his callused one. We would go to the square and he would count out six gold coins into my palm, making me promise to buy Prim something using half, and the rest could be used for myself.

Endless rows of stalls, it seemed, were lining the edge of the square, leaving a large space empty for a simple band at one end and enough empty cobbled ground to make a dance floor. But it was the stalls that pulled me in. This was one of the only times of year, apart from the Harvest Festival in September and the Spring festival in May, when traders from the Hob were allowed to legally sell their wares alongside the Merchants who had permits from the Capitol.

That year I can remember buying a little wooden doll and a cupcake and a length of ribbon for Prim, and spent my half on a slice of cake from the bakery that was filled with spices, nuts, raisins and pieces of (after asking my father for the name of the wrinkled yellow slices) dried banana, an incredibly rare ingredient to be in District 12. The rest of the money stayed in my pocket for later use.

The Ball is also an excuse for Merchant girls to get brand new dresses before Christmas, and show them off, hopefully hanging on a boy's arm in the process. Ever since my father's death I've found it a little frivolous but the simplicity of the warm festive feeling that engulfs the district is infectious, and I usually end up taking Prim, unless Prim goes with Rory like she did last year.

However, this year is different because I actually have someone to go with.

My fiancé, Peeta Mellark.

The words fiancé and Peeta Mellark still feel unreal.

"Is Rory taking you to the ball?" I ask Prim as we walk away from the school gates. My sister's usually pale completion turns red and she nods. "Sorry, didn't quite catch that." I say, cupping my hand around my ear and leaning towards her.

"Yes, he's taking me!" she hisses.

"Why are you so embarrassed?" I ask. "It's adorable. Dorky Rory crushing on my Little Duck!"

"Don't call him dorky."

"Alright, I'm sorry. I promise I won't," I say, hiding my smile. The youngest male Hawthorne is kind of dorky though. While Gale is the tall, dark and brooding one, and Vick is the show-off, Rory is more awkward around the opposite sex. He's been crushing on Prim for the past two years now though, and stumbles over his gangly limbs whenever he's around her. "You wearing that pink dress?"

"The one with the little bow in the middle?" I nod. "Yeah."

"Wear a ribbon in your hair as well." I advise. Prim stares at me. I widen my eyes in a 'what?' gesture.

"Why are you so interested in what I'm wearing all of a sudden?"

"It isn't illegal, is it?"

"It's the baby hormones, isn't it? You seem different."

"Well, I think it's good thing; me being interested in what you are going to wear."

"And I'm not saying it isn't," Prim says. "It's just... Weird."

"Good weird, or bad weird?" I ask warily.

A grin works its way over her face. "Good weird."

"Are you excited to be an Aunt?" I ask as we reach the top of the hill on the Seam track, our breath steaming into the air.

"Of course I am!" my sister gushes. "I'm going to be Aunt Prim and spoil him or her rotten!" I smile and bite back my response of 'spoil it with what?'

"Peeta said that his Dad is going to spoil it too, especially if it's a girl," I tell her, watching a group of boys kick around a ball up ahead on the road.

"What do you think it's going to be?"

"I don't know."

"You don't have a feeling?"

"A feeling?"

"You know," Prim presses her lips together as if it clarifies what she's trying to get across. "A feeling."

"I have no idea," I roll my shoulders, adjusting my bag on my shoulder. Prim spins on her heel and walks backwards, staring intently at my stomach for a few long seconds, before turning back to my side and tilting her head. "What are you doing?" I ask her.

"Boys sit lower than girls. I'm trying to work out if it's a boy or girl."

"You can't tell the gender of a baby by just looking at the bump," I say, drawing my eyebrows together into a frown.

"I can try!"

"What do you think then?"

"To me, it looks like a girl. But you should ask Mom. She knows more than me." Prim concludes.

The feeling of my chest tightening scares me, but I realise that it isn't bad, but the good feeling of pride and love. A girl? An image of a blonde-haired, blue-eyed female version of Peeta pops into my mind. Maybe she'll be baking prodigy too. I look down at my stomach and pull my bottom lip with my teeth. Prim bumps her shoulder against mine.

"You're getting tall," I say, gauging the height difference between our shoulders.

"A few more inches at I'll be your height!" Prim grins.

"Is everyone taller than me?" I ask, only half-joking. I can only hope that my baby will have Peeta's genes, and will grow to be tall, unlike me. Standing beside Peeta, I only reach his chest, and Gale is even taller.

"I think so." Prim laughs. I roll my eyes.

"I'm gonna go hunting one last time today," I say, looking up at the pale expanse of the sky. It's been like this since yesterday, and the cold air and frozen, dry ground is perfect conditions for heavy snowfall.

"And before you start waddling."

"I will not be waddling."

"We'll see."

"Yeah, we'll see," I say to my sister, dropping my bag in her arms. She pushes her scarf and hat into my arms, insisting that I wear them. My jacket, Peeta's hoodie and the scarf hide my bump very well and the added warmth from the knitted items is welcomed, and I blow on my hands in an effort to keep them warm as I cross the meadow and slide under the fence.

It feels like forever since I've been in the forest. I inhale the frigid air, filling my lungs, and the baby kicks.

"Whoa, little one. Did you miss the woods?" I ask softly, rubbing my stomach as I follow the worn animal trails into the densely packed trees. My bow feels familiar and comforting as I hold it in my hands and sling my quiver over my shoulder. Quickly and quietly, I set to work at stalking the animals that have strayed outside from their warm nests. After almost an hour, I've caught three rabbits, their fur turning dappled with white to camouflage in the snow, two squirrels and two ducks that were unfortunate to be stuck in the district instead of moving south to warmer weather before the lake freezes over.

The rocky outcrop that provides a marker for Gale and mine's meeting point also serves as a great place to pluck feathers or skin kills; the rock is flat and steady, a natural chopping board. But as I sit there and pull out the feathers I feel like I'm missing something. Or rather, someone.

Gale has been my hunting partner for as long as I can remember. I'm used to feeling his presence beside me, and I've always felt slightly off-balance when he isn't here. I should talk to him. Really, he should be the one to apologise, but Gale is too stubborn to do that. I suppose I'll have to force him to apologise, to spit out the words 'I'm sorry' to the guy he has undoubtedly given the honour of top of the list of people he hates. He and Peeta need to at least be civil around each other. I don't care if they continue to hate each other for the rest of their lives, but fighting is not acceptable.

As I walk to the Hob, my game bag pleasantly heavy, I find myself looking for Gale. Where is he? Come to think of it, I haven't seen him since Monday, when I slapped him in the school corridor. It's now Thursday. In two days' time I'll be moving into a Capitol-issue box of a house in the Merchant housing sector with my fellow classmate, and getting married in a few months. He's still my best friend, and has a right to know this, despite how much I want to twang the string of my bow against his face. And that bloody hurts. I've got scars up and down my arms as proof.

Peeta told me at school, after we had been scolded for not bringing our flour sack baby to school by Effie, (Haymitch just rolled his eyes as Miss Trinket's ridiculous hair wobbled on top of her head) that Mr Mellark had managed to pull some strings down at the Justice Building, and persuaded the magistrate to let us move into a house before we were married. A bottle of Capitol wine, a chocolate cake and a vague explanation of exactly why a home was needed was all it took to get us a house. Fen, Rye and Mr Mellark have offered to help move my pitiful amount of belongings to our new house, but we won't have any furniture for weeks, until the baby is either born or we get jobs.

Greasy Sae eagerly accepts two rabbits and slides them under the counter of her booth, before pulling me down to sit and dumping a bowl of broth in front of me.

"On the house, my dear."

"Thanks, Sae." I say, my feet aching as I swing them back and forth.

"I haven't seen you for a while. Everything alright?" the older woman asks, adjusting the coin pouch around her rotund waist.

"Yup, I'm good." I nod. I wonder if I should tell Sae about my pregnancy, and my marriage to Peeta. No doubt that she'll hear about it soon. I swear, people in District 12 live for gossip.

"You and Gale fightin'?" Sae asks, stirring the cauldron beside her absentmindedly. "He came in here with a black eye and a red mark on his cheek. Tell me that wasn't your doing."

I squirm in my seat.

"Katniss!"

"I didn't give him the black eye. But I slapped him at school."

"Why?"

"There was a… disagreement." I say, looking down at my bowl.

"Who gave him the black eye?"

"A townie."

"A townie?" Sae's laughter quickly turns into loud coughs and she begins slapping her chest with her fist. "Why?" she asks when she's recovered.

"Gale hit him first." I shrug.

"Was it the baker's son?" I freeze in my seat.

"Gale and Rye have never exactly got on…"

"You know I don't mean Rye. Or the eldest. Finley, is it?"

"It's Fenton."

"How'd you know that?" I shrug. "But Peeta was the one who gave Gale that black eye. Bleedin' good one too." Sae shoots me a soft smile. She's as glad as I am that there's someone out there deflating Gale's massive head. I drop the spoon into the bowl and hold my head in my hands, resting my elbows on the countertop.

"Sae, don't say nothing, but…" I stumble over my words.

"Spit it out."

"I can't exactly just spit it out," I grumble. Straightening my back, I look around the Hob for anyone who may be eavesdropping. Leaning forward, I lower my voice until it's barely a whisper. "I'm p-pregnant, Sae." I admit, drawing frantic circles on the grain of the wood.

Sae bends over the table, until she's inches from my ear. "You thought I didn't know, didn't you?" She chuckles. My head whips up so fast my bones crack.

"You knew?" I hiss. Sae shakes her head in laughter.

"Of course I did! Have you ever seen someone in the Seam getting fatter due to food? Especially in the winter. And in the shape of a baby belly?" I fold my hands over my chest.

"How long?"

"I guessed a few weeks ago."

"And you didn't say anything?"

"Nope."

"Why?!"

"Didn't think it was my business at the time." Sae says. I frown.

"And what makes you think that it's your business now?"

"Well, that dirty big ring on your finger makes it pretty obvious that something's happenin'."

"Sae!" I cry, standing up from my seat.

"I'm old, not stupid!" she chortles. I scowl, coming around to her side of the booth.

"How many people do you think know?"

"Not many. But rumours are flyin'," she says, patting my arm gently. I rub the bridge of my nose and sigh. Staring and pointing people aren't what in need right now. Preferably, I'd be able to hide forever and never face anyone or anything.

"I can't have people staring at me." I say, the whine in my voice high pitched and needy.

"Who's the father? And it definitely isn't Gale."

"No, Gale isn't the father. He's pissed at the father, that's for sure. And the father's pissed at him too."

"I'd like a name, please."

"Peeta Mellark," I whisper, and Sae laughs again.

"This is like some Capitol soap opera!" she crows. "He'll do you good. Don't worry."

"How do you know that?"

"Girl, I know you're sometimes oblivious to the advances of others, but you can't tell me that you honestly haven't noticed the way that boy looks at you."

My cheeks flush and I shift my weight from foot to foot. Peeta is a nice guy, a guy I admit I have feelings for. But telling people out loud is still something that trips me up on the home stretch. But I've never really noticed him looking at me, certainly not in the way that everyone has been describing.

"Peeta is good for me. I know that." I mumble.

"You two getting' married?"

"Yeah."

"He's seventeen, isn't he?"

"His birthday was on Sunday."

"Are you waiting until May?" Sae asks. "Because by the looks of it, you'll have burst by then." I cringe at the wording used.

"His father managed to pull some strings at the Justice Building. We're moving in on Saturday."

"This Saturday?" I nod. "Goodness me."

"I know."

"Are you ready for the responsibility?"

"Hell no."

"You'll be fine, my dear. If you can look after your sister and mother and house aged eleven, I think you'll be okay aged sixteen with a hunky lad like Peeta."

"Sae!" I blush.

"You'll be considered the Devil for snagging him so quickly."

"So I've been told!" I say. Sae pulls me into a hug, rubbing the space in between my shoulder blades. I sigh. "I just don't know how we're gonna do this. The only furniture we've managed to scrape together is a bed, a wardrobe, a gross old sofa and a table and two. We don't have enough stuff to look after a baby. We need a crib and bottles clothes and so much stuff and time that we don't have!" Sae grips my shoulders tightly and gives me a shake.

"Snap out of it, child. How many months are you?"

"Five and a bit."

Sae looks a little taken aback but she swiftly recovers. "Alright, well. It's not like the baby is due in the next few days. Calm down, stop worrying." She advises, locking eyes with me. I nod.

"Okay."

"Everythin' will be alright, promise. I'll get my son to drop off the old crib I have sitting in my kitchen the weekend."

"Sae, thank you." I say gratefully.

"Think nothing of it. When am I gonna need a crib, anyway?"

"Doesn't your granddaughter use it?"

"Not anymore. It's yours. A housewarming gift."

Friday dawns bright and icy and busy. School is buzzing with anticipation. By the time the final bell rings, I'm seriously considering pulling Marlene into the forest and stringing her up by her 'oh so beautiful silk stockings!' Prim's excited energy is slightly irritating, and I can't get a single word in edgeways as she bounces up and down on her toes as we walk back home to tell her to calm down.

"And Rory bought me a corsage!" she squeals, pulling the item out of her school bag and showing me. "Isn't it beautiful?"

And she's right. It is beautiful. A dark pink Primrose flower surrounded by furry little fern leaves. It's beautiful and simple. Rory must have been saving up for over two months to by something like this. The florist must make a killing around this time of year.

"It's lovely Prim." I say, touching the delicate flower with my fingertips. Prim grins and puts it carefully back into her rucksack.

Mom has a bath waiting for Prim when we get home, and I reheat the water an hour or two later, after getting frustrated trying to knit. Mom tells me again and again that the needle goes under, not over, but I still get it wrong, ending up with a knotted bundle and a headache. We eat a light dinner and Prim gets more excited by the second. She asks about Peeta continuously.

"Do you think he'll wear a suit?"

"No-one is wearing a suit to the ball." I say.

Her positivity is relentless. "But what if?"

Prim and I dress quickly, our skin pebbling in the cold air, and Mom brushes her youngest daughter's golden hair with a comb so the soft curls that have formed from her hair being in braids all day don't come undone, before giving us some money for the night ahead.

My lack of formal wear is sort of depressing, but with the help of Mom's sewing needle, she manages to let out a green dress just enough so it actually fits me. I wear a thick pair of tights and two pairs of socks over that, along with my boots and my jacket and my hat and scarf. I leave my hair in a braid, and have just batted Prim and a kohl pencil away when there's a light rap on the door.

Peeta

I've never really met any of the other Hawthorne children but Rory Hawthorne seems much nicer than his older brother. He swings his arms back and forth as he walks, calling my name as the Everdeen house comes into view.

"So, you're the one who punched my brother?" he asks, fixing me with a stern stare that he's clearly learnt from his older brother. Wow, this kid sure doesn't beat around the bush.

"Uh, he punched me first," I say. He notes the black eye that's still fading to a yellowy-green discolouring of my skin.

"Your fault. He cares a lot about Katniss and can get pretty protective," he says casually, as if it was some huge secret in the first place.

"Is he still angry with me?" I ask warily. Rory's laugh echoes down the street.

"Yeah he is, but he'll get over it pretty soon, I'm sure."

"For a twelve-year-old, you sure know your stuff."

"I'm thirteen and I'll assume that's a compliment," we walk in silence for a minute or two, but it doesn't get awkward. I decide that I like this boy. "So… what are you doing in our neck of the woods?" Rory asks.

"I'm taking Katniss to the ball," I say. Rory raises his eyebrows and secures his hands behind his back, stopping them from swinging. "What about you?"

"I'm taking Prim."

"You have good taste, my friend," I chuckle and Rory grins a wide smile that you'd never catch on his brother. He knocks on the door to the Everdeen household and stands back a little. I stay on the dusty path, my hands shoved into my pockets. Katniss opens the door, her cheeks pink, and gestures for us to enter the household, half occupied with batting Prim away.

"I don't want any kohl!" she says, catching my eye. I smile and follow the smaller boy into the house, ducking my head so I don't hit the top of the low doorframe.

"Hey, Katniss," I greet her. Katniss waves at me and disappears from the room. Beside me, Rory is reduced to a red-eared, blubbering mess.

"S- so you like the corsage?" he asks Prim, the rather witty young man I saw not two minutes previous vanishing into… this. "I thought it would be good… to you know… get a Primrose flower. Because your name is Primrose." I groan inwardly at his awkwardness. Prim seems to find it endearing and is just as red as he is, displaying the corsage that's around her wrist, pressing a kiss to Rory's cheek. Poor kid almost faints.

"Sorry about this… mess," Katniss says, returning to the kitchen with her mother following close behind.

"What mess?" I ask, looking around the kitchen, which is covered in empty dinner plates and piles of washing and other bits and pieces. Mrs Everdeen rolls her eyes.

"Peeta, you don't have to pretend you can't see it."

"See what?" I persist and Katniss rolls her eyes as well.

"Make sure you aren't too late," Dahlia warns, eyeing Rory and I.

"We won't." Prim and her sister chorus, heading for the doorway.

"And have a good time!" She says as the door closes.

Prim and Rory walk ahead, and Prim grabs her date's hand when he flounders nervously as to wear he's allowed to or not.

"It's funny. On the way here, Rory was quite confident," I remark. Katniss laughs.

"He thinks Prim is the world. I'm not surprised that he goes all dorky." I smile fondly and take Katniss' hand.

"See. I can hold my date's hand without passing out," I say, holding our hands in the air. Katniss grins and leans into me.

"Well done." She says sarcastically.

"I got you a corsage too," I say, rummaging in the pocket of my coat.

"Oh, Peeta. You didn't have to. I'm hardly dressed for it," Katniss grumbles, looking down at her clothes. I think she looks the beautiful, the green dress suits her perfectly, her padded coat over the top with a mustard yellow hat and a blue scarf. Her worn boots complete the look.

"You look beautiful." I tell her, handing over the corsage. She pulls her hand from mine to cup it in her palms.

"Peeta, this is… beautiful. Thank you."

"It's not glittery or feathery or anything. But I didn't think you'd like that."

"I'm not a glittery or feathery type of girl," she confirms. Her eyes examine the corsage. It's a simple Katniss flower bundled up with twine and little purple flowers and fluffy green grasses. The florist looked at me oddly when I said 'think woodland' to inspire her. Thankfully she used her brain and made a corsage that was perfect for Katniss.

"It matches your dress," I say, tying the ribbon around her wrist, which has begun to become less skeletal looking by the day.

"It's perfect," Katniss says, pressing a kiss to my cheek as the lights of the square come into view at the bottom of the street.

In a matter of hours, the square has been transformed. Streamer and banners and lanterns are hung everywhere, bathing the area in a warm golden light. It's already busy, with people laughing and buying things from the stalls set up around the edge. The band is already playing jolly music, and I can see a couple of little kids spinning each other around by the stage. Even Effie Trinket is here, wobbling over the cobbled ground in her heels, dressed in a huge fur coat.

"So, where do you want to start?" I ask Katniss.

"I have absolutely no idea," she grins, returning her hand to mine and squeezing it.

For the best part of an hour Katniss and I wander around the stalls, laughing and joking as we go along. Katniss doesn't buy a single thing, clutching the coins in her hand tightly. I buy us a cup each of a spiced buttery drink, that the vendor tells us she calls 'butter beer', but assures Katniss that there isn't any alcohol in it. We simultaneously widen our eyes as we take sips from our cups. Katniss lets out a gasp.

"Oh my God," she breathes, staring down at the cup as if it were made of solid gold.

"My sentiments exactly," I chuckle, taking another sip of the drink.

We reach the bakery and line up behind a couple of others, stamping our feet to try and remain warm. Dad is standing behind the counter, dishing out pastries for free. Mom glowers in the doorway to the kitchen, watching the free food being handed out.

"You two didn't have to wait in line, you know," Dad says with a warm smile when we reach the counter. "You're family."

"I didn't mind."

"I'm guessing Mom isn't happy about this?" I say, looking down at the seemingly endless trays of steaming iced pastries.

"Your mother is a bit of a Grinch at Christmas, but she'll warm up eventually. Give her a bit of brandy and she'll be up here helping me in no time," Dad chuckles, placing a pastry into a napkin and handing it to Katniss, pretending that he didn't give her the biggest one. He does the same to me and pats me on the shoulder.

"I can hear you, Farrell!" Mom calls, a whisper of a smile flickering on her face, but she hides it quickly. Katniss and I head outside, eating our pastries by the bonfire. She looks like she's on fire in the golden light, her tanned skin glowing even in the winter.

"You really do look lovely," I say. She wipes the icing from her lip and smiles.

She looks across the square at Valerie and Marlene and Scarlet, who are wearing fitted dresses, straight from the tailor's worktable. "Not as pretty as the other girls."

"You aren't pretty," I say, taking Katniss' empty napkin and throwing it into the bonfire with mine. She frowns at my words, confused. "You aren't beautiful."

"Where are you going with this, Peeta?" She asks, narrowing her eyes.

"You're as radiant as the sun," I smile, taking her hands and pulling her onto the dance floor, which is now packed with other district members. She smiles, looking up at the star-studded sky that seems endless above us. I spin her in a circle.

"You cleaned up pretty good too," she says. I look down at my outfit, which consists entirely – except for my boots and underwear – of hand-me-downs from my brothers.

"I tried my best."

Katniss proves to be a fantastic dancer, knowing all the steps to all of the songs that are played, whether they are fast-paced or slow and romantic. I realise that I haven't heard music like this ever before in my entire life, and when I take a look up at the stage, I see that the majority of the band members are from the Seam. They play the guitar, and a rounder guitar-like instrument Katniss tells me is a banjo, along with small hand-held drums and a harmonica and a brightly decorated accordion. There's even someone playing the tambourine in the corner.

All the songs are sung with such passion. Songs about winter, about seasons, about family, friends, young love, unrequited love, about everything and anything. All of them bring a smile onto my face, and the memories are quickly burned into my mind to forever be remembered. Katniss laughs when I step on her toes and hauls me around the dancefloor just so I don't end up standing in one place the entire time. The skirts of her dress swirl around and around as she spins towards me and then away from me again, her hand never leaving mine.

"Where do they get instruments like those from?" I ask when a song ends.

"Well, the Capitol says they aren't supposed to have them, but they can't get rid of music, can they?" Katniss says wisely, her braid coming undone as she dances. "Most of us make them or trade them. The Hob has everything if you look hard enough."

She rests her head on my chest when the lonely sound of a fiddle rings out over the square like a siren, causing everyone who knows the song to pull their partner close and begin to turn in a steady circle, swaying gently to the beat. Everything seems so perfect, and I hold Katniss close, smelling her shampoo. Lavender.

This perfection is shattered by jeering laughs from the other side of the square.

I grit my teeth as their words fill my head.

Seam slut! She only did it to get a nice house!

Coal dust rat!

She doesn't care, not really.

Bitch. I bet his mother isn't happy.

Filthy whore!

"Katniss," I say softly. She looks up. "Do you want to go?" I ask, tilting my head in the direction of the people pointing at her and drawing a crowd.

"They aren't going to spoil my fun. And I don't care what they think," she says bravely, but I can see she's upset. "Do you care?"

"Not about a couple of idiots."

"Good. We can stay here then," she says. The tempo picks up again and Katniss tries to give me another crash-course in learning the basic steps.

"I swear, I'm trying!" I insist for the fifth time after stepping on her feet again and again.

"Your have two left feet, Peeta. You have no hope," she giggles, slightly breathless as she twirls away from me.

"Thanks for the encouragement," I say sarcastically. She shakes her head and laughs.

"Alright, you go get some drinks and I'll go check on Prim," she says. "It'll give you a chance to catch your breath." Katniss bats my arm and disappears into the crowd. I make my way over to stand in line for the punch. Katniss finds Prim by the ribbon stall with Rory, and I watch as her sister coos over the corsage I gave her.

I ladle some of the fragranced drink into disposable cups and turn to walk back to Katniss, and find that Prim and Rory have moved on. A group of blonde-haired kids from school are sneering at her, cornering her into the side of a stall that has closed for the night. I walk towards her, just in time to hear her remark.

"You're a bitch, Valerie."

I have to admit, it isn't a good an insult as she could've done, but when I watch her face carefully, I note the shimmering tears forming in the corners of her wide eyes. I come up behind the Merchants, they don't see me.

"He doesn't love you, Katniss," Marlene says, saying my fiancé's name as if it were the vilest thing in Panem.

"Anyone can see that." Scarlet adds.

"It's disgusting. You're pregnant too?!"

Self-conscious, and lightly horrified that people have figured it out on tonight of all nights, Katniss yanks her coat tighter around herself.

"He loves me," Valerie says with cold, calculated precision. "So why don't you stop lying to yourself and get lost."

"Peeta and Valerie are meant to be!"

"He's not meant to be with a slut like you!"

"No wonder he got drunk to fuck you," Marlene snarls, her lips sticky with red lipstick. "No-one would be able to do it sober!" The entire group erupts into cackles and I push through them, dropping the cups of punch, causing the red drink to splash all over Valerie and Marlene and Scarlet and the rest of the group, making them cry out in protest.

I'm so angry. So angry that they could say that to her and still get to sleep at night without feeling guilty. I stride forward, up to Katniss. She says my name; her eyes sorrowful and wide. She's upset, and angry at the same time.

And then, because I don't know what else to do, I cup Katniss' face in my hands and pull her in for a kiss. Valerie lets makes a sound of shock, stamping her foot on the ground furiously and throwing her drink on the ground before storming off. I hold Katniss close to me with one hand on the small of her back and another on her jaw, tipping her mouth closer to mine. I kiss her until I can't breath, and then move away.

Katniss opens her eyes very slowly. "I'm sorry," I gasp. "I didn't know what else to do."

"Stop talking, you idiot," she says, bringing my lips back down on to hers. All I can focus on is the feeling of her fingers twining through the hair than peeks out of my hat by my neck, the hand on my shoulder, her lips moving against mine. I take a chance a swipe of my tongue over her lip. Someone wolf-whistles from my right. She opens her mouth eagerly, and I swallow a groan, the feeling sending shockwaves through me. This is better than anything I ever could've imagined. Katniss smiles against my lips and I smile back, reluctantly pulling away and pressing my forehead to hers, our noses touching.

"Whoa," she pants.

I grin childishly, unable to believe that this is quite real. "Sorry. Again."

"Stop saying sorry. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I just kissed you in front of the entire district." I remind her.

"Which was very brave of you."

"Valerie is a bitch," I chuckle. Katniss kisses me again, her cheeks red, and not because of the cold or the dancing.

"And you're a good kisser."

"You're pretty good too."

She bites her lip. "Remember that you can kiss me any time you want."

"Are you sure you aren't drunk?" I ask. Katniss pouts and pushes me lightly.

"Shut up and kiss me, Dough Boy."

And I do. In front of the entire district.