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, OOCness

Love and War

Harry observed the other tributes from his place at the slingshot station, in the midst of fashioning one of his own. He looked up, sensing someone watching him, connecting his eyes with a pair of silvery grey ones so wide that they seemed to be in a state of perpetual astonishment. Furrowing his brow, he turned his attention back to his slingshot before glancing up once more to see if the girl was still examining him, biting his bottom lip when he noticed her blatant staring. She didn't seem to mind when he was aware of her attention on him. He sighed, setting aside his work when he realized she wasn't going to stop anytime soon. Lifting his head, Harry stared back at her, noting her wavy light blonde hair and the never wavering, small smile plastered on her lips. She had a gentle, fragile beauty to her, resembling once of the porcelain dolls his Aunt Petunia kept locked in a glass cabinet.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably at her relentless staring. "Could you stop staring at me?" he asked, finally breaking eye contact.

She blinked slowly. "Thousands of people will be watching your every move in a few days, Harry Potter," she said matter-of-factly.

"I'll deal with that when it happens," he grumbled, pulling back his arm to test his slingshot on the target, making a dissatisfied noise when it missed the center by an inch.

The two were silent as he practiced some more, Harry using the time to think. It would be beneficial to have an ally, having someone to rely on when the situation turns sour.

But then again, Harry glanced at her from the corner of his eye, backstabbing wasn't illegal in the Games. She seemed content just observing him hit the practice target.

"Luna Lovegood, right?" he asked as he set down his slingshot. Her smile grew, sensing his sudden change in demeanor. Harry had made his decision, but even though he accepted her as an ally, he wasn't going to let his guard down because that would mean the end.

"Poor thing, it seems the wrack spurts have made a nest in his head," Luna murmured sympathetically. Harry glanced over at the direction she was gazing at, startled when he noticed a lone boy standing not too far from the Careers as to be considered excluded but not close enough to be one of them. The aura he exuded was just incredible, more intimidating than anyone Harry had ever met, and the Careers could feel it, too, if the anxious glances they cast his way was any sign. They weren't sure if he should be regarded as an ally or an enemy, and the lazy, disinterested way he examined them didn't persuade the likelihood of the former choice. Harry didn't blame them for being wary because even he could see the intelligence in those hard, blue eyes; it'd be a great asset to have him on your side, however, having that same mind against you, Harry just knew the experience could rival a trip through hell and back.

Harry flinched when those icy orbs landed on him, breath hitching in fear, feeling as if a bucket of freezing water was dumped on him. He had never been so afraid before, not even when Vernon came home purple with rage or when Dudley and his gang cornered him in an alley. No, the other boy was dangerous, undeniably so. Harry was well aware that he had the capability to kill him, physically and mentally, and the older teen knew that, too. But he refused to drop his gaze from the other, even when he raised an elegant eyebrow at him, because that would mean accepting defeat, accepting his death, and that is when the killer strikes. Harry only relaxed slightly when the teen broke eye contact from apparent lack of interest.

"Who is he?" breathed Harry, still tense from their stare down.

"Tom Riddle," Luna replied, reading up on the edible plants and insects.

Harry clenched his fists nervously. No matter what, he would have to prevent any encounters with Riddle in the Game.

Harry looked around inconspicuously, trying to find a glimpse of pixie-like friend. For the past two days, he was greeted by her soft, sporadic footsteps, but today, she seemed to be a bit late. Honestly, he was rather worried about her, with her eccentric personality, others might not find her as endearing as he did. But, surely, the other tributes won't try anything until tomorrow when the Games officially start, right?

"What's the matter, Loony? Can't find your shoes?" a vicious voice asked in mocking sympathy.

"Yes, it seems like the nargles have stolen them again," replied another and airy voice that Harry all too well.

Harry clicked his tongue in annoyance. Why couldn't the Careers just leave them alone?