A/N: Please note, this is chapter two. Not sure what happened but notifications were not sent out for my first chapter, 1 - the Sister, so make sure you read that first.

Enjoy!

*****

I can scarcely believe my ears.

In fact, I'm so shook that I almost forget who I am and what I should be doing.

At first, I feel winded. I have forgotten how to breathe. And then my muscles get into gear, chest rising and falling as I manage to gulp in air.

"No," I gasp, "this can't be..."

Peeta touches my arm. "I'm sorry. She's your sister, right?"

But I don't answer, because all I hear in my ear is a buzzing sound which is interrupted by a blood curdling scream.

"Ronnie!"

I frantically look around at the sound of my sister screaming my name, my heart in my throat as I try and locate her amongst the sea of people.

"Ginny!" I scream back. "Don't let them take you! Don't move!"

The crowd around me steps away as everyone looks on at me pityingly. Only Peeta remains by my side.

And then I see some Peacekeepers dragging an unseen person through the crowds.

"Ronnie!" I hear my sister's voice calls out. "Help me!"

"LEAVE HER ALONE!" I scream, pushing my way frantically towards them. "LEAVE MY SISTER ALONE!"

As I reach them, I see Ginny crying as the Peacekeepers drag her towards the stage.

I smack their arms and try to release their hold on her, but I am pushed back into the crowds as they continue to force her up the steps of the stage.

My mind goes blank with panic. I can't think of what I can do to stop this from happening. I search my mind, trying to reach some way I can intervene and save my sister from a certain death sentence.

And then I remember exactly what it is I can do - something that they always seem to do in the 'career' districts during every reaping.

"I VOLUNTEER! I VOLUNTEER!" I scream as loudly as I can. "I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!"

The entire square falls silent. Literally everyone turns to look at me.

"Well..." Effie says brightly into the microphone. "I do believe we've had our first ever District 12 volunteer. Congratulations, dear. Come on up."

It worked. It actually fucking worked. I have saved Ginny and now it looks as though I'm going to die instead.

Oh, well. At least it means I won't have to marry Harry.

"No, Ronnie, no!" Ginny cries as the Peacekeepers release her and restrain me instead. "You can't do this!"

"Yes, I can," I say quickly. "Ginny, go and find Harry. He'll look after you."

Tears streak down Ginny's face as she tries to grab me, but the Peacekeepers kick her away, causing her to fall roughly to the ground.

Horrified, I try and free myself so I can go to comfort her, but the Peacekeepers are freakishly strong.

Harry runs out of the crowd, his face etched with worry as he races towards us.

"Harry! Thank God!" I breathe. "Please, take Ginny, look after her for me."

He nods, crouching down to pull my crying sister into his arms. "Hey, don't worry," he murmurs soothingly in her ear. "I'll look after you while your sister is away."

She cries harder and lets him comfort her as he picks her up and carries her away back into the crowds. I feel eternally grateful to him, relieved my sister has him.

"Excellent!" Effie trills as I join her up on stage. "Our female tribute! What's your name, dear?"

I swallow hard. "Veronica Weasley, ma'am."

"I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her to steal all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody! Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!"

Silence, save for my sister's sobs. Slowly, instead of clapping, people begin to wave their hands in the air.

"It's a sensitivity thing," Mayor Granger quietly explains to a perplexed Effie, "some of the kids don't like loud noises, you see."

Effie gives a nervous giggle before turning back to me. "Well, let's see who will be joining you, shall we?"

I blink around me. I almost forget that I will not be going alone, that a male will be chosen to accompany me to the games. Oh, god. I just hope it isn't-

"HARRY POTTER!"

What the-?

"No!" I shout, my heart in my throat.

This cannot be happening. How much bad luck can one person get?! If Harry joins me, then Ginny will have no one, and she won't last a single day on her own.

"You can't!" I say desperately to Effie. "Put it back! Pick someone else!"

But she shakes her head. "Sorry, dear, but rules are rules. As you very well know, the only way someone else can take a tribute's place once they are selected is if they stand up and say-"

"I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!"

Everyone gasps as Peeta boldly steps out of the crowd, his arm raised.

"Another volunteer? In District 12?" Effie gasps. "Well, I never! How exciting!"

The stocky built Baker Boy strides determinedly towards the stage, muscular arms swinging heavily by his sides. Ice blue eyes train on mine beneath the ashy blonde hair that falls in waves over his forehead.

He climbs onto the stage beside me, turning to face the stunned crowd, only Effie applauding, clearly forgetting that this is a strictly no-clapping district.

"My, my - two volunteers! How very exciting! Do introduce yourself, young man."

"Peeta Mellark." He says in a confident, if not slightly wavering voice. "And I'd like to step in for my cousin, Harry Potter."

"Well, family clearly means a lot in District 12." Effie says, raising her bright pink eyebrows. "Well done! Well done! Do shake hands my darlings, you will, after all, be going on a great adventure together!"

This crazy bitch is talking as though we're simply going on a school camping trip, not being sent to an arena to fight each other to the death.

Peeta looks me right in the eye as he holds out a large hand. Numbly, I take it. It feels warm in mine. He doesn't immediately let go once we shake, and instead gives my fingers a gentle squeeze. A small, reassuring smile twitches at his lips before he lets go, leaving my hand feeling oddly empty.

I don't have too much time to dissect this feeling, as both Peeta and I are both being marched into the Justice Building where we are held separately in 'custody'.

This is our time to say our goodbyes.

I don't have to wait long until Ginny barrels through the door, throwing herself so forcefully at me that we both topple back down into the sofa I had just risen from.

"You can't go, you can't go!" She sobs, clinging to me tightly as she curls up on my lap like a little toddler.

I hold her tight and kiss the top of her head. "It's okay, little duck. I'll come back, I promise."

Another person enters the room. Harry.

I look up at him. He looks sick. "Ronnie... fuck..." he whispers.

"I didn't realise that you and your cousin were so close," I say, eyeing him curiously from over the top of my sister's head.

"We aren't," he says stiffly, his face fixing into a scowl. "I'm as shocked as you and everyone else by Peeta's actions today."

He looks utterly pissed off. He certainly doesn't look like someone who has just had his backside saved.

"Then why on earth would he...?" I trail off, flabbergasted. Because what I want to say is why is the fucktard risking his life for someone he doesn't supposedly care about?

"Look," Harry says sternly, "it is what it is. I suggest you go in and do your best. You can hunt. You can kill. I've seen you. Just make sure you do your best and get back to us, okay?"

"Killing a person is not exactly the same as killing a squirrel!" I say, horror filling me to my core.

"Well, then it's kill or be killed!" Harry hollers, causing Ginny to shudder in my arms.

Fuck, he is right. If I want to come back to Ginny, then I've got to become a stone cold killer.

"Do what it takes," Harry says fiercely, lowering his voice to a growl. "Listen to your mentor. Do everything he says. Trick whoever you need to trick. Kill whoever you need to kill. Just make sure you fucking get back here, okay?"

Holding tightly to Ginny, I nod.

Because he is right. Of course he is right.

I'll do anything to get back to Ginny.

Even if it means lying through my teeth.

*****

I get another visitor before I leave. A surprising visitor.

"Hermione?" I say in disbelief as the bushy haired mayor's daughter is shown in.

She's a school friend, and pretty much the only girl I can tolerate in my year. Whenever strawberries are in season, I gather them and sell them to her family.

"I can't stay long," she says, hurriedly moving across the room until she is giving me the briefest, yet tightest hug. "Daddy pulled some strings so I could give you this."

She places something in my hand. I recognise the shiny gold pin immediately. I had admired it once, and she had explained to me that the Mockingjay pin was once her aunt's.

"Take it with you as a token of our district." Hermione quickly explains. "And may it bring you safely back to us."

Tears swim in her eyes, and I look away when I thank her. I don't want to see her emotion. Not if I'm to stay strong through this whole ordeal.

However, she manages to keep it together, nods and leaves.

*****

My fucking god, our mentor is an absolute fucking lunatic.

"You sure you want to clean this up yourself?" I ask Peeta as we both stare down at Haymitch singing drunkenly to himself as he lays in a puddle of his own puke.

Peeta nods and orders me to go back to my sleeping quarters.

What a great fucking start. This Haymitch idiot is supposed to be mentoring me and Peeta on how to win the Games, but the best he can seem to do is down a bottle of vodka and then show us how to swim in it.

I am so fucking pissed off that I cannot even enjoy the luxuries that are raining down around us on this train. The food is too rich. The clothes are too colourful. Every time a plate piled high with pastries is thrust under my nose, I cannot help but think of all those days of starvation back in District 12 and the lengths I used to go to just to provide one fucking meal for me and my sister. It makes me so fucking angry.

On the plus side, I do get my very own ultra cool shower with buttons galore providing all the scents and lotions I could ever possibly desire. And instead of faffing around combing and drying my hair, I just stick my hand in some contraption, and it does it all for me in less than a minute!

I wonder how Peeta is getting on with showering Haymitch. I shudder to think of what he looks like under those clothes.

I've only ever seen a dead man's penis before, and it wasn't a pretty sight: resembling a shrivelled up worm with far too much skin. I expect Haymitch's to be no different.

I suddenly feel very sad that I'm going to die a virgin. Not that I particularly want to stuff one of those ugly things inside of me, but people must enjoy sex because they keep doing it. Contraception of any kind is banned in the districts. If you have sex, you have children. And if you have children, you have to watch them get taken away by the Capitol who march them in an arena to fight to their bloody deaths. And that is something I have vowed I'll never put myself through.

So, I guess I was always going to die a virgin - tribute or not.

I have a restless night's sleep in my train compartment, despite having a luxuriously comfortable bed. I think about Ginny, and about Harry, and what they must be doing right now. I hope Harry stands by his promise and will look after her for as long as she needs him.

It's not like he had much of a life living with his aunt and uncle anyway. He may as well shack up with my sister. I briefly wonder how Vernon and Petunia are dealing with the loss of their only child. Petunia certainly didn't seem like a very loving mother to Peeta, with the way she beat him for burning the bread.

Poor Peeta. And he seems so genuinely good and kind. Look at him now: cleaning up after our drunken mentor. Look at him earlier: sacrificing himself to save his cousin who has never said a single nice thing about him in his life - not to me, anyway. And look at him all that time ago: risking another beating from his mother to throw a starving passerby some bread.

When I fall asleep, my dreams are filled with the boy with ice blue eyes and ashy blonde hair. When I wake up, they fade as quickly as they had come.

Breakfast is another feast. But I don't seem to have much of an appetite.

"Eat," Peeta demands, placing a plateful of bacon and eggs down in front of me.

I look up at him, making sure to keep a defiant look upon my face. "Why? Why are the districts suffering from lack of food and resources when there is so much available here?"

"Veronica," Peeta says warningly, "don't."

"Ronnie, call me Ronnie. I hate Veronica. It sounds like a foot fungus."

Peeta just stares at me, raising an eyebrow. "I think it's a beautiful name. But if you wish, I'll call you Ronnie."

I eye him skeptically, picking up my knife and fork. Should I believe he is actually this nice, or is he already playing the game?

Either way, I know I've got to tread carefully from now on.

"So," I say, stubbornly hacking into my fatty bacon, "where's the fucktard then? Hungover?"

The door flies open. "Not quite!" Haymitch yodels, skipping into the carriage with a glass of clear liquid in his hand. "Amazing what a pick me up vodka can do."

For crying out loud. Even Peeta, who up until now has been the picture of calm, cannot hide his disdain.

"You are supposed to be giving Ronnie and me advice." Peeta grits, his patience waning.

"Here's some advice. Embrace the extreme probability that you are going to die a gruesome and painful death." Haymitch throws his head back and laughs.

Peeta stands up so fast, his chair topples back. He glares at our mentor with hard eyes.

"That's very funny," he says, striding over to Haymitch and smacking the glass out of his hand. It shatters to the ground. "Only not to us."

It happens so quickly, no one has time to react. With one punch from Haymitch, Peeta goes flying across the compartment, smacks against the wall and slumps to the floor.

Effie jumps up from where she was sat at the table, screaming. Abandoning my breakfast, I go straight to Peeta whilst Haymitch simply nurses his fist in his other hand, muttering under his breath.

"Here," I say, crouching down to shove a handful of napkins at Peeta as blood pours out of his nose.

I stand up and whirl around, scowling at Haymitch. "What did you do that for? He looked after you last night when you were fucked out of your face and covered in your own disgusting puke!"

Haymitch just shrugs and reaches for a nearby bottle of vodka. In a fit of anger, I throw the knife still in my hand, knocking the bottle to the ground before he can grab it.

I immediately brace myself for a violent reaction, but to my surprise Haymitch just laughs.

"Well, what's this?" he says, squinting from me to Peeta. "Did Effie actually pick a pair of fighters this year?"

"They both volunteered, actually," Effie says, her hand clutched to her chest.

"More fool me," Peeta scowls, his voice muffled behind a blood soaked napkin as he rises up off the floor. Without looking at me, he stomps out of the compartment, slamming the door shut behind him.

I hesitate. And then I follow.

*****