Chapter Summary: In which Harry arrives in Panem and sees right through President Snow. (The Hunger Games, Harry/Finnick)
"President Snow, I'm honored to think that you would invite me to a dinner at the capital."
"Mr Potter, you are a special man," Coriolanus Snow remarked, lifting his shoulders in a small shrug. "You are a wealthy, important man and I would just like to show my appreciation for you. If you would follow me."
Harry blinked but followed the president of Panem, not seeing what else he could do since he had appeared in the capital just two days ago. The Capital was a vicious city, built in the country that had gone through several wars and maybe one or two nuclear wars. The 12 districts around it were spread out around what used to be the United States, separated by fences and borders now. "Show your appreciation how?"
"You like men, don't you?"
"Yes, I do but what does that have to do with anything?" Harry asked, as they walked down the hall of the Presidential mansion. He saw his guard out of the corner of his eye, the man having watched him ever since Harry had come to the capital at the invitation of the President. "And what are these Hunger Games that I keep hearing about?"
"You are about to see them now. My supporters are hosting a rewatch of the 74th Hunger Games. They were quite the games and I would like to invite you to share the presidential palace to watch them. The Quarter Quell is in two weeks after all."
Harry's eyes narrowed as President Snow led them into a big room that held a theater, with round tables around the hall. People were crowded about the big room, talking excitedly and dressed to the nines in colorful gowns and dress clothes. The clothes though… looked bizarre, not practical and unpleasant to look at. It was like a muggle washing machine had threw up and had produced this… monstrosity of clothing. Harry was also pretty sure that more than a few of the hair styles were wigs, styled in crazy designs with weird pins and such in it.
All in all, everyone looked rich, the material and styling had to come from wealth. There was not a single person that was not dressed to impress and Harry definitely felt out of place. There was a person who wasn't dressed crazily, who had little to no clothing on. This man was close in age to him, maybe about 23. He rather looked like someone who sold their body, going up to people with a bright, wide smile on his face and moving about in a way that would show people that he was in shape. In shape and knew how to fight.
Harry wondered what the man's purpose here was, wondered who he was. And then there were the men and women at the walls, trying to blend into the corners. They were dressed in red and they never looked at people, keeping their heads down as they obeyed orders from the citizens of the Capital. Harry had heard that they were called Avoxes but he hadn't… His stomach roiled at the thought, knowing enough Latin to know what the word meant. Without voice. Their tongues had been cut out.
"Pick a seat at my table, Mr Potter. It is a good view of the Games," President Snow remarked, drawing Harry out of his thoughts. "This is the only celebration we have today that marks the end of the rebellion."
"Last year was so good too."
"I always love it when a family member volunteers in the place of someone else! It makes it so much juicier!"
He even heard people placing bets, though on what Harry didn't know. And he was beginning to think that what they were about to watch, with the screen in front of them showing a big forested area, was not going to be pleasant. Harry sat down across from the President but still at the table, a plate and silverware in front of him.
A waiter came to his side right as he did, asking him if he wanted anything to eat. Harry shook the guy off and watched the screen as the cameras moved, centering on a clearing with 24 small platforms. On top of those platforms, one person stood. 12 girls and 12 boys. Some were young while others were older. One dark skinned girl looked to be all of 12, the smallest of them all, and her eyes were determined and yet… Harry could detect a hint of fear in them. They all wore the same uniform and they all looked… nervous and varying degrees of panic.
There was a big, jet, something like a troop carrier, on the ground in the center of the field, with weapons, food, armor, water, medicine all spread out around and within it. Harry stared blankly at it, his thoughts taking a turn, and he stared around him at the wealthy people in the hall with him.
"There's the Girl on Fire!"
"She was so beautiful in the tribute parade!"
"Oh yeah?! Ethelia said she would! She loves her sister! It was beautiful watching her volunteer for Primrose!"
Harry looked out over the crowd, his eyes once again turning to the sparsely clothed guy. The other young man had his back to Harry but with how little he was clothed, Harry could see the muscles on his back and the soft skin. A light, loose blue shirt covered his upper chest but it was definitely see through.
A loud clang shuddered through out the hall, coming from speakers all throughout the room. Harry turned back to the screen and witnessed the beginnings of a blood bath. Everyone moved at once, every single kid and teenager moving towards the cornucopia in the center and grabbing what weapons they could. Someone grabbed an axe and thrust it right into the teenager next to them. One kid grabbed a sword and hacked at a younger boy that was coming towards the jet. Another teenager grabbed a spear and threw it at another, slicing right through the kid's neck, and blood covered the ground.
By the time it was done, Harry realized he had stopped breathing, his shoulders curling inward. There were five bodies on the ground, laid around the cornucopia with sightless eyes. The Hunger Games. Harry shuddered and looked at President Snow as he took in another deep breath, relaxing his body enough that hopefully no one would think differently of him. He already knew enough of this Capital, of this strange city where people got their tongues cut out for being disloyal or treasonous.
He grinned and nodded to the president, who gestured back up at the screen. "Now you see. This celebration is what we truly enjoy."
"I look forward to seeing what else this city has to offer," Harry remarked, keeping the disgust from his tone just barely.
President Snow dipped his head in a nod and turned to answer a question from some other man, probably an aid. "I would delight in showing you where the Gamemakers work."
"I saw you had your eyes on one of the Victors," President Snow spoke, as the day ended and 4 more kids had ended up dead. One 12 year old girl had just died, speared through the stomach, and Harry's stomach had threatened to roil. He had gone through war, had seen numerous people dead and Hogwarts students dead as well but this… This was cold blooded murder. This was meant to subjugate the other 11 distracts into not rebelling. He didn't know much of Panem's history but he made a note to himself to find out what there was to tell. Surely it hadn't been like this forever.
Harry once again followed the President, imagining pointing his wand at the president and uttering those two words. But… he would need to be plenty more prepared to deal with the aftermath then and need more details about this new world. "I spoke with Finnick Odair, the victor of the 65th Hunger Games. He would be delighted to assist you in anyway that you want."
Snow led Harry out of the theater room and gestured for him to follow, heading throughout the building and down another hallway. People skipped past them, servants and aids to the President and other government officials. No one looked distraught at the teenagers dying. No one said a word otherwise.
"He's in there," President Snow remarked, smiling at him in a way that was not at all pleasant. But Harry supposed it was supposed to be nice but was just… on the edge of suspicious. "He is said to please everyone he meets."
Harry nodded, blinking once or twice. "Alright…"
"Go. Surely you need a break from your travels. And he does cater to people of your flavor, I hear."
The guards stationed occasionally throughout the hall stood at attention as the president left Harry. His own shadow stood behind him, less a guard and more of a sentry, a spy. Harry stared at the guard and then sighed, shaking his head and nudging the door open, letting it close behind him. If he was to blend into the Capital and learn more about it, he figured he had to act the part.
"I hear you're new to the Capital."
Harry looked around at the room ahead of him, seeing the big bed at the opposite wall and nothing else. There were two bedside tables on either side and a trunk at the foot of it, making Harry shudder to guess what was in it. The young man standing by the bed stalked towards him, all graceful like. Finnick Odair, the victor of the 65th Hunger Games.
He looked like he could kill anyone, his muscles rippling over his body and no movement unnecessary. The clothes he wore left nothing to the imagination, changed from before to a loose, see through white shirt with short sleeves. The loose, white pants also left nothing to the imagination, the outline of Finnick's cock very visible. Harry licked his suddenly dry lips and he saw Finnick smirk at him.
But he could also see Finnick's sea-green eyes, see the hidden exhaustion under a wall. He wondered… Finnick must have been young when he was a victor, at least younger than 15. He wondered what kind of horrors he must have seen and done. And President Snow had seemed so indifferent or dismissive of Finnick when talking about him. The President had spoken of Finnick like a pawn, to direct or to… to have sex with someone at the President's command.
"I am. Name's Harry. And you're Finnick?"
"Yes, I am. I am also your loyal servant for the week."
Finnick took a step closer, his lips twitching up into a big smile. Harry stared at him, crossed his arms and sighed. He glanced up to the ceiling of the room, extended his magic in a wide wave around the room to search for cameras or microphones and found three. Harry dropped his arms to his sides, tapping his fingers against his jeans and thought of the two spells he wanted.
Magic filled the room, wrapping the two men up in a bubble, and then taking their likeness. Cameras and microphones flickered off and on before staying on, only with warding around them.
"Are you… being forced to do this?" Harry questioned, gesturing between them.
Finnick blinked, his eyes narrowing. "Of course not. I enjoy getting to know the Capital newcomers. My team didn't prep me for what you wanted but I can do anything you want. But no long lasting bruises, please. The Quarter Quell is approaching and they don't want me looking inappropriate for interviews."
Harry flinched. "What if I wanted… to… I don't know… What kind of things do people want to do in the Capital?"
Finnick grinned and took a step back. "Some people want pain. Some want praise. Others want to see other people in pain. I'm available for anything and everything your heart wants. No safe words necessary."
There was nothing in Finnick's voice other than blank approval and yet… The callous way that Snow had talked of Finnick and the way that the citizens of the capital had talked of seeing kids killing each other…
"Finnick, I know you don't know me but I'm not having sex with you if you're being forced to do this," Harry said, taking a step closer towards him. "And before you ask, I took care of the cameras and microphones and everything else. If people are watching us, all they're seeing is us having sex."
Finnick blinked, took in what seemed to be a strangled breath. "I'm not being forced to have sex with people."
"I wouldn't have sex with someone if they were being forced to go along with it. Consent is sexy and all that," Harry offered, shaking his head. "I wouldn't put it past the President to threaten people's families and then order people around. For fuck's sake, there are people without tongues walking around and I can totally fix that! I know how to regrow tongues and before you ask, that is a long story."
Finnick had gone pale at his mention of the President threatening people's families and Harry figured he had the right idea.
"I haven't been here long but I know one thing already. This city is fucked up, smiling and laughing as kids kill each other. This stops now."
"We're both consenting adults though."
"It isn't consent when there's a gun to your head or to the heads of people you love," Harry retorted, crossing his arms. "If saying no leads to you dead, it isn't consent. But for the record, if and when this stops, if I can help put a stop to this, I would totally have sex with you, if you wanted it."
"How… What… Who are you?"
"Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, Lord Gryffindor. The Man Who Conquered. And a wizard."
Prongs leapt out of his fingers, the patronus scenting the air and galloping around the room only to come to a stop next to Finnick, who startled. His shoulders curled inward and his body stiffened, his fingers curling around like they wanted to hold something. Two seconds later, Finnick seemed to deflate, his eyes softening and his body trembling. Prongs whinnied quietly before vanishing.
Harry took another step closer to Finnick, who looked at him with wide eyes. Harry reached out and lightly grasped Finnick's hands, squeezed and then backed off, heading towards the door.
"Is it good sex?"
Harry turned around, blinked. There was a small, subtle light in Finnick's eyes, maybe hope, maybe mischief. "Hmm?"
"The sex we're having. Is it good? 'Cause I have a reputation to uphold."
Harry snorted, grinning a little. "Yeah, it's good."
Finnick smiled, this time it was a true smile, not the one he wore when Harry had walked into the room. Not a public relations smile. A true one. Harry smiled back and walked out.
AN: Wow, 40 chapters of this! Belated Happy New Year and I hope you guys had good holidays.