Chapter 1:

Okay I know I shouldn't have started this one since I'm nowhere near close to finishing the other two… But this idea has just been stuck in my head for ages… I even dream about what I should write. I've had dreams of me sitting on the couch and writing up this story. I can't escape it…

Back to the story!

I have played with the ages [and minor appearances] of the characters to suit my own purposes, and some people who were previously not related are now, and many who were, are not. I hope you enjoy! [This is also a No-Magic Alternate Universe].

Disclaimer: I own neither the Harry Potter characters, nor the Hunger Games series.

It seemed like it would be a nice enough day. The soft rays from the rising sun shone through the slightly frosted window above their heads, there looked to be no clouds in the sky, and as the winter was coming to a close, the cold was retreating with it, bringing warmer days ahead. It was a bit chilly now, in this early morning, but here, lying in bed with his three little kids and a mangy cat, Draco felt a warmth growing from inside him, lighting up his sleep crusted eyes and pulling his mouth into a warm smile.

Of course, they weren't really his kids, he was their big brother, but they might as well have been, seeing as he was the one who had raised them into the fine examples of society that they were. Colin, the eldest of the three, has his back pressed against the wall (with a spare blanket stuffed behind to make sure he didn't get cold from the stones) and his arms around Dennis, the youngest, who had his arms curled around Crookshanks, the blasted cat Draco had gotten him a few years back. He had been planning to cook the thing, but Dennis had been crying and he just couldn't say no to him when he obviously wanted it so badly, even if it did make for another mouth to feed.

Crookshanks was probably the ugliest cat in existence. He was bandy legged, ginger coloured, had dull mustard-yellow eyes, a bottlebrush tail, and his head was sort of… squashed. Like he had run head-first into a wall as a kitten. And man, he was big. Crookshanks should not have been that large, with how he lived off the entrails Draco fed him from the animals he hunted. Crookshanks actually was quite handy when it came to hunting, the times that Draco dared to take him. It was one of the reasons that Draco loved him. All of the kids loved Crookshanks, no matter how ugly he was (although Dennis still insisted on saying it was his own "special charm"). Crookshanks was probably the smartest cat that Draco had ever come across, and he never acted nice to someone he didn't deem worthy of attention. In fact, this was another reason why Draco loved the moody thing; it hated Lucius so much that he'd jump into Draco's lap just to get away from him, and Crookshanks only really tolerated him because he fed him entrails and cared for his human.

Colin and Dennis might've been mistaken for identical twins if it wasn't for the obvious age difference, they looked so alike. They, unfortunately, took after Lucius in appearance, but there was still traces of their mother in their eyes and smiles, unlike Draco and Colin's actual younger twin, Luna (by only six minutes), whom both shared a striking resemblance to Narcissa.

Luna currently had her arms wrapped around Dennis, sandwiching Crookshanks between them. Luna's back wasn't left to the cold bite of the morning either, but instead of blankets protecting her from the chill, it was Draco at her back, covering all three of them with his longer arms. Draco didn't mind the fact that his back was always left stiff with the cold in the mornings, because he was their big brother, and he would protect them to his dying breath, be it from ghosts or monsters under the bed, sadistic Death Eaters, or a cold back in the morning.

Draco used to share a bed with their "father" Lucius, but three years ago he had been suffering from a nightmare, and struck out at Draco when he woke him from it, hitting him hard across the face. The kids had been terrified when they saw his black eye and swollen cheek the next day, and Draco was worried that Lucius would hurt one of them, so he moved beds and didn't let any of the kids out of his sight for at least four months, and never allowed them to be in a room alone with Lucius. Even now, it was a rare sight to see Lucius anywhere near Colin, Luna, or Dennis without either Draco or Crookshanks keeping watch from close by.

The only time they were left undefended was during the Reaping, because he had to go into his position within his age group. He was especially worried this year, because the twins had turned twelve this year, meaning it was their first Reaping, and Dennis would have to stand alone with him.

Draco attempted to ignore the feeling in his gut that said something terrible was about to happen, and hold onto the happy feeling the being with the kids brought him. It was useless. Draco couldn't escape the coming day, nor could he escape his own feelings.

And he could definitely feel he was going to be a tribute for the Games this year. His name was entered too many times. There was the required five slips of paper with the name Draco Malfoy scrawled onto them in his own script, but he had a family to feed, filled with growing kids. They needed a lot of Tesserae, so his named was in a lot of times. Too many times. He had no choice. Every single extra named in that lottery was needed to keep their family afloat. He wouldn't allow the kids to go hungry, and he had to feed their useless excuse for a father. As soon as Draco reached the age of eighteen, he would get them out. He didn't care where they went, hell maybe Blaise would take them in, but he had to get them away from that man.

But that would never happen if he was Reaped.

He racked his mind, making sure he had taught his wonderful siblings everything they needed to know to survive. They would never hunt, he knew. They were all too kind to ever think of hurting anything. But the twins had their goat, Hedwig, and they made good money off her milk and cheese, and Dennis was the best at remembering which plants were best for healing specific ailments, even at his tender age of ten, so they could still make money off the family apothecary.

Draco smiled as he remembered all the injured animals the kids had taken in over the years and the many sick townspeople they'd all cared for. All being himself, the twins and little Dennis. But not Lucius. Never Lucius. Even if he had improved a little over the years, Draco would never forgive him for abandoning them. Never.

Lucius had left them when they had needed him the most, right after their mum died. Draco was only eleven then, Luna and Colin seven, and Dennis had only just reached five years of age. If Draco hadn't manned up and taken care of them, they all would have died. And if Draco hadn't had a bit of help, he never would've manned up.

Narcissa Malfoy had met her end on a seemingly ordinary afternoon in District 12, walking home after a successful hunt, and stopped off at Knockturn (the illegal black market of District 12) when a mine underneath her exploded. The family had begun to starve not months after that. Without Narcissa, there was no food or supplies coming in, since Lucius fad fallen into a deep depression and refused to move from his room to run the apothecary, no matter how much they begged.

Draco had given up on him within days; he knew the man who had once loved them with all of his heart was never coming back, and the meagre food that the Ministry gave to them for compensation wasn't nearly enough to feed so many mouths for long.

Draco wasn't yet old enough to sign up for the Tesserae, not for two months, and it was obvious that they weren't going to last that long. Draco had gone to Diagon (the legal market of District 12) in hoped of selling their baby clothes but no one had looked at him twice. He'd even gone to Knockturn in his desperation, but none of them were willing to buy anything he had for more than a few useless trinkets.

There was no way he was going to go home to the sad, starving faces of his sister and brothers empty handed; so he stumbled around the empty streets of the District, looking for anything edible he could bring to them. Unfortunately, it had begun to rain and Draco tripped on a loose cobblestone, falling into a puddle and losing the precious baby clothes to the rain, to be trampled underfoot. He left them there, as they were now ruined and his frail body was struggling to get up on its own- he didn't think he'd be able to get back up holding them.

He moved to the alleys behind the shops, hoping there would be something in the bins, after all, rotten food was better than no food at all. Draco was devastated to find the bins freshly emptied. There was a Dirigible Plum tree growing at the back of crazy man Xenophilius' stationery shop, but Draco knew better than to steal. Stealing in District 12 was punishable by death, and Draco refused to leave his family that way- as nothing more than a dirty thief.

Exhausted, soaking and shivering, a starving boy abandoned hope, leaning against a lonely tree in an alleyway, cradling his pounding head in nearly skeletal hands, dull blond fringe like a veil hanging low over his face, concealing him from the world.

It was in this position that another young boy, just a bit older than Draco himself, saw the boy he'd been crushing on for a few years at his absolute lowest. This hurt said other boy, and he resolved to help Draco- make him better again.

Draco's eyes snapped up when he heard the frustrated yelling of a woman, the smack of something flat onto skin, and a small cry of pain coming from the bakery. Then a boy around his age with a wild mop of black hair came staggering out of the bakery's door with some slightly burnt loaves in his hands. He could still hear the woman shrieking about just throwing the loaves out now that they were ruined and Draco prepared himself to scoop them out of the dirty bin as soon as the boy disappeared again.

He was surprised to find said boy kneeling in front of him in the next moment, meeting Draco's pale silvery eyes with his own stunning emerald orbs.

Draco received a soft smile from the boy, who carefully introduced himself as Harry, as if Draco were some wounded animal that needed to be treated like glass. The boy- Harry- helped Draco to his feet, and with another kind, understanding smile, gave Draco the bread rolls before being called back to the bakery by that same loud woman who Draco assumed gave him that swiftly swelling welt on his cheek.

As Draco stood there, stunned in the rain by this wonderful boy, holding enough bread to save his family's lives, his eyes welled up with tears, and for the first time since his mum's death, he cried. Sobbed actually, but whatever.

He covered the bread with his flimsy jacket with the hopes of protecting it from the worst of the rain, before starting the trek home. As he ran, he noticed a small plant growing from around the base of the Dirigible Plum. Draco recognised it as May's Plume. May's Plume was edible. This had been drilled into his head by his father when he was much younger and they were all much happier. Lucius had taught him many things while Narcissa was still alive, about edible and healing plants; Lucius had come from the richer part of District 12 to be with the huntress Narcissa in the Seam, who had taught Draco hunting and survival skills.

Draco never forgot Harry, the baker's boy, the boy with the bread, who had saved the lives of the most important people in the world to him. And Lucius. Draco- no matter how much he had wished against it- hadn't let him starve, because they had to pretend that Lucius was a good father so the social services wouldn't split them all up.

Now, at the age of sixteen, Draco still watched over Harry, And if Draco's heart happened to race every time he saw those bright emerald eyes, or longed for that soft smile to be directed towards him again, and only him, well, that's no one else's business.