Disclaimer: All rights belong to J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series, and Suzanne Collins, author of the Hunger Games trilogy.

Warnings: slash, meaning boyxboy, characters might be OOC

Love and War

Harry watched the scenery go by with amazement on the train. Hannah Abbott sat across from him, also looking out the window. For a moment, Harry allowed himself to feel pity for the two of them, knowing they were being pushed to their absolute deaths, and that they even might have to fight against each other. Before he can get too far in his pity party though, the door opens to reveal Effie in a new but just as outrageous gown. This one, it seemed, was inspired by a peacock with the flamboyant feathers and rich colors of green and blue. Noticing he can't quite tear his eyes from her, Effie flashed him a smile full of teeth.

"This is the closest color I could get to your eyes. When we get to the Capitol, I am going to order the exact shade of those emerald jewels."

"Huh. Hope it's not as ridiculous as the one you're currently wearing."

Harry turned and noticed that another person had followed the District 12 escort in. Immediately, he noticed Effie's face morph into a grimace, looking as if she smelled something vile, which she might have as Harry caught a whiff of the powerful stench of alcohol on the man that was now leaning against the door.

"Haymitch Abernathy. I'll be the one to coach you in hopes that you'll be smart enough to actually survive." He stared intently at Harry as he said this. The twelve year old shifted uncomfortably at the eyes boring into his face.

"Hopefully, this year District 12 will have a victor," he grumbled as he left the room.

"Excuse his behavior," Effie said, "it's like he's been raised by wolves."

Harry tuned Effie out, wondering what to make of Haymitch's bewilderment when he saw at Harry's face. It looked like the man had seen a ghost.

Harry watched as Haymitch gripped Hannah's arm, leading her away for some one-on-one tips. He saw the blonde's flinch at the roughness as their mentor tugged her along. Harry noticed that Haymitch was harsh on many occasions without ever meaning to be, like he lost the ability to be gentle somehow. He couldn't help but pity the man.

Harry wandered down the hall. He couldn't sleep, so he hoped that a little midnight walk would tire him. The corridor was dimly light, every corner shrouded in shadows. Harry paused as he spotted a pair of black shoes ahead. His eyes trailed up to face the owner of said shoes. He gave a slight nod at his mentor before making a move to go around him.

Harry stiffened when the man grabbed him by the shoulders harshly. The two stood in silence, Harry meeting Haymitch's eyes hesitantly as he continued to stare intently into emerald orbs.

"You're him, right? You have to be," Haymitch whispered desperately, "You look just like him but with her eyes."

Feeling more confused than ever, Harry winced slightly as the hands gripping him clenched tighter. Haymitch paid no mind to his pain, however, pulling him into a rough hug.

"I won't let them take you away again," he said intensely, squeezing Harry until it was difficult to breathe. Harry stood awkwardly with his arms held out, unsure if he should reciprocate the embrace.

"What do you mean?" Harry was unsure of why Haymitch was acting this way all of a sudden.

"There's so many answers but so little time. All you need to know right now is that I'm your godfather, and I don't plan on making the same mistake again," Haymitch said. "After this is all over, I'll explain everything."

Harry buried his face in his mentor's chest, clenching his eyes shut in nauseating confusion and heart-wrenching sorrow. Why didn't Haymitch come for him after all these years? Why didn't he take him away from the Dursleys? Was Harry even going to survive the Games to hear his explanations?

Harry laid his head on his godfather's shoulder, still in disbelief that he actually had someone who cared about him. Of course, he had Gale, but it was different. Haymitch knew his parents. He was the only thing Harry had left of them that didn't hate his guts.

His godfather (Harry loved that phrase) carded his fingers through Harry's hair. He tried to bat away the tiredness warring inside him, but a yawn managed to break free and surface. The hand playing with the midnight locks stilled before patting them gently once and dropped to rest on Harry's shoulder.

"Do you want to sleep?" Haymitch's lips were quirked up in amusement at the stubborn head shake.

"Tell me more."

"Well," the man continued recounting one of his many adventures with the other Marauders.

After multiple bouts of muffled laughter, the two sobered down to a comfortable silence. Harry found that he enjoyed being in the man's presence. The two were currently lying in bed in Haymitch's room. Harry was surprised by the sudden youth and exuberance that appeared in his mentor's demeanor as he talked with him, a sharp contrast to Harry's earlier impression of him.

"Haymitch?" Harry asked hesitantly, unsure if he should ask this question, not wanting to ruin the relaxed atmosphere.

"Sirius, Harry. Call me Sirius," he answered nonchalantly.

Harry chewed on his bottom lip nervously. He peeked up at the man through his bangs, emerald eyes shining in the dark unnaturally.

"Okay, Sirius," he tested the name, letting it tumble off his lips. Harry allowed a small smile. That name suited him much better than Haymitch.

Sirius made a noise in the back of his throat to signal Harry to keep going.

"If you're my godfather, why didn't you come for me?" Harry couldn't help but let a bit of betrayal seep into his voice. He blinked rapidly to prevent himself from shedding any tears.

"Oh Harry," Sirius rolled over to face his godson, the only thing he had left of them. He brought him close and rubbed his back soothingly. The tears that were brimming in his eyes finally spilled over as Harry was enveloped in the warm embrace, cascading down his face and blurring his vision to soak into Sirius's shirt.

"I thought you were dead. I thought you were gone, along with your parents," he whispered in pain, reliving what happened that night many years ago.

"But now that I have you," Sirius continued, "I won't let anything hurt you."

The sobs slowly subsided to the occasional hiccup or sniffle.

Harry let out a watery laugh before grimacing. "Ugh, now I have a headache."

Sirius, who returned to running his fingers through his godson's hair, chuckled and stroked Harry's head in sympathy.

"Tell you what?" Sirius pulled back slightly to look into emerald eyes. "After all of this is over, how about we find a nice, cosy house and move in together?"

Harry blinked in shock before he sported a face splitting grin. "I'd love that very much."

Sirius cupped Harry's face and kissed him gently on his head. "Now, go to sleep."

Harry obediently closed his eyes with a silly smile still on his face. Funny how he was never this happy in life until he was heading towards death itself.

"We're almost there."

Harry looked up at the awe-filled voice. Hannah was pressed closely to the window, gazing to the left. The brunet walked up next to her, staring shocked at the cheering crowds gathered around. He felt overwhelmed at the amount of people, all here to greet the victors, to greet him. Suddenly, Haymitch's words from a past conversation echoed in his head.

"Harry, you'll need a way to gain favor from the people of the Capitol. You're still young, so be sure to play hard on the cute factor."

With that in mind, Harry flashed his most charming smile and waved shyly to the public. Hannah quickly followed his example. In his head, Harry couldn't help but notice the likeness between the citizens of the Capitol and a poisonous snake. It's similar to offering the reptile a dead mouse in hopes it wouldn't bite you, but there will always be the rational fear that it could kill you with a quick flash of its fangs.