mgowriter's notes: If you're following along, this chapter takes place within pages 76-84 of Catching Fire :)

Chapter 4: Dancing in the Snow

To call the banquet room of President Snow's mansion a room is to call the mansion itself a house; they are anything but. The space is the grandest setting for the grandest party in all of Panem. Katniss and Peeta, the victors from the improbable District 12, the star-crossed lovers, have finally arrived on the Victory Tour. For the powerful, famous, or wealthy citizens who manage to secure their names on the guest list, it's a night they will never forget.

The "room" extends from the front gates of the mansion through its focal point, a massive central square that contains the dining tables prepared for the feast and the dance floor. Beyond the square, a prodigiously sized conservatory is transformed into a lavish, outdoor garden. It's surrounded on all sides by small ponds filled with exotic fish, and a waterfall laced with golden specks that appear to materialize out of thin air.

. . .

"It's really something, isn't it?" Portia asks Effie, as they're escorted inside the mansion.

Effie nods, and takes a moment to savor the scene before her. She follows Portia's gaze upward, to a ceiling that doesn't seem to exist. It's impossible to tell if they're looking at an illusion, or at the real stars above. A man playing the violin floats into view, on top of a puffy white cloud that somehow supports his weight.

"I wonder if we can borrow one of those?" Portia asks.

Effie grins at her comment. "Leave the man alone. We have work to do."

They see Katniss and Peeta at a nearby table filled with all sorts of soups, sampling one after the other. The two victors are surrounded by a circle of fans, well-wishers, and the ever-present camera crew. Peeta waves when he catches them out of the corner of his eye. Katniss is to his left, holding a spoon in one hand, and a cup in the other. Her attention is more fixated on the dish before her than the woman who is talking at her side. After a minute of this, the woman finally gives up and Katniss is happy to return to her soup.

"Katniss," Effie says as she pulls her aside, "do you know who that was?"

"Oh come on, Effie," Katniss says in her own defense. "She was talking about her cats. Cats! Who are apparently fed a special diet to turn their coats 'periwinkle blue.' How can you expect anyone to take her seriously?"

Effie sighs. "That was Helena Rorick. She owns half of the shopping squares in the Capitol and donates a considerable amount of money to only one tribute—her favorite—each year. Remember what we talked about this morning? This is the perfect opportunity to connect with sponsors for the next Games. They can be the difference between a tribute's life and death."

"Isn't that Haymitch's job?" Katniss asks. "Where is he, anyway? He's been more drunk than usual ever since we left District 3."

Effie becomes quiet at the mention of Haymitch's name.

"He's over there," Portia says, pointing at a dimly lit area behind a large fire pit with a pig roasting above its flames. "It looks like he's talking to the new Head Gamemaker. Let's go see what they're up to." She takes Effie by the arm and they start making their way through the crowd before Effie can object.

. . .

Haymitch, sporting a deep navy-blue tuxedo with accents of silver and gold, is fully engaged in conversation with the plump man beside him and doesn't hear their approaching steps. The other man is the first to notice the women. He promptly falls silent as they near.

Haymitch has a frown on his face when he turns around. He sees Portia, then blinks in surprise at the sight of Effie. Her evening gown is exquisite. It's made of a clear, reflective material that when viewed under the lights, makes her look as if she's illuminated by sunlight. Next to the dimmer flames of the fireplace, the fabric darkens to match the color of dusk, and the hidden orange and peach layer underneath glows through to perfectly capture the colors of sunset.

Portia clears her throat. "Haymitch, aren't you going to introduce us?"

Haymitch starts at her words. "I'm sorry, Portia. This is Mr. Plutarch Heavensbee," he says with his gaze still on Effie. "Plutarch, may I introduce Portia and Effie."

Effie is the first to break eye contact. Even though she's wearing makeup, he can see the slight blush of her cheeks underneath.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Heavensbee," she says, turning her attention toward the other man.

"Likewise," Plutarch replies.

"Portia," says Haymitch, "I've been meaning to introduce Mr. Heavensbee to Katniss and Peeta. Would you mind taking my place?"

"Not at all," says Portia. They head toward the center of the room, where Peeta and Katniss are dancing under the watchful eye of the cameras.

. . .

"Wait," Haymitch says, just as Effie turns to leave.

"Dance with me?" he asks, extending his hand.

Effie considers passing on the invitation, but there's something desperate in the way that Haymitch holds out his hand. She accepts, and it doesn't take them long to settle into a comfortable rhythm.

Haymitch is a steady leader, performing the right steps with practiced ease. Effie has always had a talent for dancing, and moves even more gracefully on the dance floor. When he spins her, she floats away briefly, only to step back lightly into his arms. The nearest onlookers applaud the handsome couple.

"Where did you learn to dance so well?" she asks, genuinely surprised.

"Victory Tour," Haymitch answers, reluctant to let go of their short embrace.

Effie seems puzzled, but quickly realizes what he's saying. "You mean your Victory Tour, when you won the Quarter Quell."

Haymitch nods. "It's been a long time. I'm surprised I still remember the steps."

He's a skilled dancer, but it's soon obvious that his mind is elsewhere. He hesitates for a half-step and almost loses his timing.

"You can say it," Effie says gently, when they settle into a slower pace.

"What?"

"Whatever's on your mind."

Haymitch takes a deep breath. They move a few more steps before he begins.

"I want to apologize for the other night. I shouldn't have pushed you out of the room like that. I know you meant well." He pauses, before asking, "Can you forgive me?"

They continue dancing as she absorbs his words. In the five years that she's known him, she can't remember ever hearing him apologize to anyone. In fact, she's never seen him serious, sincere, and sober at the same time. For him to say the words means a great deal.

"You're forgiven," she says simply.

Haymitch stares into her eyes. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," she says, this time with a smile.

The music picks up and with a grin, he spins her a second time. When they embrace again, Haymitch is close enough to whisper in her ear. "You should also know…that you're the most beautiful woman at the party."

As he says the words, a dusting of snow falls from above. They look up to see one of the bigger clouds as the source of the tiny crystals. Effie reaches up to touch the miniscule flakes, but they dissolve into thin air. As she turns, Haymitch hears gasps from the guests around them. The snowflakes are reflecting brilliantly off of the dance floor lights, which in turn reflect onto the unique fabric of Effie's dress. The effect is a soft halo around Effie's body that makes it seem as if light is beaming from inside her.

The music comes to a stop, and Haymitch, along with the crowd, is mesmerized by the sight of her. The cameramen catch on quickly and push their way to the front of the circle. Aware of all eyes on them, Haymitch settles for a kiss on Effie's hand. He hears her call out his name as he steps away from the spotlight, but waves back an excuse.

He is acutely aware of two things as he removes himself from the crowd. One, he desperately needs a drink, and two, he's unequivocally in love with Effie Trinket.