A/N - Hi, and welcome to a new WIP!

This idea was born out of a review of Mockingjay Pt 1 in Time which described Peeta as 'the Ron Weasley of the series.' Now, if he'd gone on to compare both characters' quick wit, bravery and loyalty, how they are generally amongst the most relatable characters in their respective series, and how the main protagonists of the stories woud never have survived without them, then yes, I would have agreed. But instead, the reviewer went on to describe him as 'a pasty earnest bore,' and is someone whom we only like for 'callow valour and a run of bad luck.'

No. Just... No.

You don't make a comparison between my two favourite characters in my two favourite series, and make that comparison as a derogatory comment, and not expect fandoms to get cross! And so, in true fandom style, I took my annoyance out in writing a friendship story between our two heroes! This was originally supposed to be a drabble, but I kept getting more and more ideas, and this will now be a WIP in 6 parts.

HUGE thanks go to titania522 (ct522) for betaing this for me, and to Ro Nordmann for the stunning cover. Thank you both so much!

23rd February 1995

He was definitely in trouble this time. And he knew all of his friends would blame it on Katniss. Never mind that they had been friends forever, since before he had even found out that he was a wizard. Never mind that hewas the first to find out how to open the secret doorway to the kitchens, and that he had suggested meeting her there tonight to take his mind away from the fact his other best mate would be competing in the second task of the Triwizard Tournament the following day. Katniss was in Slytherin, and therefore, according to the rest of his Hufflepuff classmates, she was nothing but a stab in the back waiting to happen.

He had already made several batches of iced sugar cookies and had been showing some of the house elves his personal favourite non-magical techniques for decorating cupcakes, while Katniss had been perched on the edge of the enormous table that would be directly below the Slytherin table above, delighting in the piles of food that kept getting shoved her way.

He had been delicately piping a pale yellow lemon-scented rose onto a vanilla cupcake when a sudden loud cough made him jump and squeeze the piping bag too hard, causing the perfect rose to erupt in a sweet, sticky mess.

"Been looking for you everywhere, Mr Mellark. You need to come with me." Peeta had gaped at his Head of House for a moment. He had never seen the jovial Professor look so serious. But then, he had never been caught so flagrantly breaking the rules before. Turning to Katniss, she then said in an equally serious tone, "Miss Everdeen, I'm certain you won't want Professor Snape to have to talk to you about sneaking out of the Slytherin dormitories after nightfall. Head straight back to your common room, if you would."

Katniss had jumped down from the table and walked past him in silence, giving his hand a light squeeze as she did so. The gesture was so comforting and reassuring that for a moment Peeta had forgotten the amount of trouble he was sure to be in.

But as Professor Sprout marched him out of the kitchens, his nerves returned tenfold. How she had found out where they were, he didn't know. Maybe one of Katniss' classmates had sold them out. Maybe one of his own friends? The idea made him feel even worse…

Instead of heading directly back to the nearby Hufflepuff Basement, Professor Sprout led him up several staircases, further and further away from the comfort of his common room, when an even more unnerving thought struck him. She was surely taking him directly to the headmaster.

His suspicions were confirmed when they stopped in front of a gargoyle on the third floor. "Liquorice Wand!" said Professor Sprout to the gargoyle, who immediately sprang to life and jumped to one side, revealing a moving spiral staircase behind.

"Professor, I'm really sorry," said Peeta, sensing that this was his last chance to defend himself. Knowing that he needed to protect Katniss as well, he added, "And you should know, that was the first time that Katniss had come down there with me. And I promise she didn't see how to get in, so she won't be able to go back. And—"

"You can stop with that right now, Peeta," said Professor Sprout, not unkindly. "You're not the first of my pupils to find a way in to the kitchens and you won't be the last." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "This way, then."

Her reaction was unexpected, but he didn't seem to be in trouble, or at least, not too much trouble, and so he took a deep breath of his own and allowed himself to be guided onto the moving staircase.

At the top of the stairs, Professor Sprout knocked on a huge oak double door. The headmaster himself opened it and stood back to allow Peeta and Professor Sprout entry. "Albus," nodded Professor Sprout towards the headmaster, as she ushered Peeta inside.

Peeta looked around in awe at the incredible room, his nerves temporarily forgotten. Even after six and a half years of being in the magical world, there were still things that could take his breath away, and the headmaster's circular office, with its delicate, spindly, whirring instruments and the countless portraits of previous headmasters looking over them, was certainly one of them.

"Well, we're all here now," said Professor Dumbledore. "But before we begin, can I offer you a tea, Mr Mellark?"

Peeta's attention was drawn back to the occupants of the room, and for the first time he realised that he was not alone. As well as Professor Dumbledore and Professor Sprout, Professor McGonagall was hovering over two of her pupils, looking as stern as ever. Peeta recognised the two as Harry Potter's closest friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. Professor Karkaroff was leaning against a wall, his arms folded closely across his chest, surveying the room, while Madame Maxime was fussing over a young girl, speaking to her in rapid French. Professor Moody lurked in the shadows, his strange blue eye constantly whizzing and surveying everyone.

He was temporarily taken aback by being offered tea by the headmaster, who had never once spoken to him directly. "Umm..."

"We're all having tea, and I wouldn't want you to feel like you were missing out," added Dumbledore, indicating a large, squashy armchair.

Peeta lowered himself into the seat, feeling all eyes on him. "Yes. Thank you," he said. "Milk and no sugar. Thank you."

A delicate china pot with a matching cup and saucer appeared in mid-air in front of him, pouring the tea. Peeta reached out and took the floating cup and saucer, perching it on the arm-rest of his chair.

"Would you like a biscuit to go with that? Or a cupcake perhaps?" asked Dumbledore. He waved his wand and a tray carrying the very cookies and cupcakes that Peeta had made hovered in the air in front of him. The headmaster's eyes twinkled, and Peeta felt as if he were being x-rayed, when Dumbledore said, "I must say, the house-elves do seem to have outdone themselves tonight. I can't recall the last time I ate anything quite so delicious."

His cheeks flushed deep red as he took one of the iced cookies from the tray. "Thank you," he mumbled. It was a strange situation, but he certainly didn't feel anymore as if he were about to get expelled. Or even detention.

"Well, to business, then," said Dumbledore. "I'm not about to pretend that none of you have an inkling as to what your friends or family are facing in the Second Triwizard Task tomorrow. I'm certain many of you have even offered as much help to your friends as possible."

'Shit', he thought desperately, as his stomach lurched uncomfortably. 'Shit, shit, shit'. This wasn't about getting caught in the kitchens sneaking extra food. This was about cheating in a major international tournament. Of course he'd helped Cedric with the egg clue. How could he not? They'd sat up together until the early hours of the morning researching ways to survive underwater. And he'd been helping Cedric practice the Bubble-Head charm all week. He glanced over towards Ron and Hermione who looked equally as guilty. They must have been caught helping Potter. The only anomaly was the young girl—how could she possibly have been helping Fleur with the clue? And no wonder Karkaroff looked so furious… Krum must have been the only person working as the tournament intended…

"And I thank you for the help you have offered so far, but we will require one more piece of assistance from you all. The Champions all have an hour to find something that has been taken from them, something that they will miss the most." Dumbledore looked over the edge of his spectacles at everyone, while at the same time, Hermione Granger gasped.

"You mean…?" she asked.

"Quite right, Miss Granger, astute as always. The Champions will be searching for you."

"For us?" said Ron.

"That's correct, Mr Weasley."

He could see Madame Maxime translating everything to the young girl, whom he presumed must be Fleur's sister, trying to keep the small girl calm.

Meanwhile, he was not doing a great job of keeping himself calm. Peeta felt a suffocating pressure on his lungs. Yes, he'd been helping Cedric learn how to perform the Bubble-Head. But he hadn't been learning it himself. And there was yet another pressing matter that needed to be addressed.

"But I can't swim," he admitted in a panic, thinking about the depth and breadth of the great lake.

"None of you need to be able to. You will all be placed under an enchanted sleep, and will not wake until you come above the surface of the water. I will perform the spell myself, and I assure you, you will all be quite safe."

"But… the rhyme…" said Ron, dawning horror apparent in his voice.

The words drifted through Peeta's mind: But past an hour, the prospect's black, Too late, it's gone, it won't come back… If they weren't found within the hour time limit…

"Honestly, Mr Weasley, I sometimes wonder if you have the wit you were born with," snapped McGonagall. "I would hope you would realise not to take the rhyme so seriously. As if we would allow any of you to die!"

Ron shrunk in his chair, the tips of his ears going visibly pinker, and Peeta felt an endearing gratitude towards Ron for voicing his concerns first, and offered the younger lad an encouraging smile.

In something of a huff, Ron took a large, appreciative bite out of one of the cupcakes. "'Ang abou —" he said thickly through the mouthful of frosting. "Oos Krum lookin for?" He swallowed, thankfully clearing his mouth before continuing. "Harry's looking for us, pretty boy's going for his twin over there, Fleur's s searching for her sister… What about Krum? Has he been disqualified?" he added hopefully.

The slight against him stung somewhat, particularly given his earlier feeling of gratitude. And as such, he couldn't help but feel a slight sense of satisfaction at Ron's reaction, when Dumbledore said, "Mr Krum will be coming for Miss Granger, of course."

Ron's jaw dropped, while beside him a pink tinge crept across Hermione's cheeks. "What?" he demanded. "That's not right!"

"Ron, please d—"

"No! What d'you mean, she's the thing he'll miss the most. He barely knows her!"

"Ron!" Hermione whispered, and Peeta couldn't help but notice how her eyes glistened slightly. Clearly there was some latent jealousy at work here.

"Anyway," said Peeta, trying to draw attention away from the feuding friends to save their embarrassment. "What do you need us to do? Do we come back here tomorrow morning?"

"Ah," said Dumbledore. "I'm afraid I am unable to send you back to your respective dormitories. I think our Champions already know quite enough about what they are going to face tomorrow. We can't allow them to know too much more, now can we? No, you will be staying in a temporary dormitory here instead. Boys to one room, girls in another, naturally. And in the morning we can all dine together before you'll be placed into the enchanted sleep and whisked down to the bottom of the lake," he finished, beaming widely.

He said it so nonchalantly, as if being placed in a strange sleep-state and left alone at the bottom of a huge lake full of mermaids, grindylows, a giant squid, and goodness only knows what else was akin to a Sunday walk in the park.

"Well, it's sure to be a busy day tomorrow, so I suggest you get some natural rest while you still can. Any questions?"

"Do we get a choice in this?" asked Ron.

Dumbledore's smile widened even further. "Not at all," he answered. "Now, to bed, all of you." He pointed his wand towards one wall, and two doors immediately appeared. "Gentleman on the left, ladies to the right, please."

Madame Maxime led the small girl towards the dorm, chattering away in French. Rubbing her eyes, Hermione said, "Good night everyone," before she stood up and walked towards the right-hand door.

"Say hello to Victor tomorrow," said Ron, staring straight ahead.

Hermione paused for the briefest of seconds, visibly lifted her chin slightly higher, and continued towards her temporary dorm. As soon as the door closed, Ron stood up and stormed towards the boys' dorm, grabbing the plate of Peeta's cookies on the way past.

There was an awkward silence in the Headmaster's office for a few moments, broken by Dumbledore's words. "Shakespeare said it best. The course of true love never did run smooth." He chuckled to himself, and the words resonated deeply with Peeta. He and Katniss had been close since childhood; it was Katniss who had first told Peeta that the strange things he could do meant that he was a wizard; it was Katniss who stole her mother's bruise paste every time Peeta's uncontrolled magic burst out of him, and his mother retaliated violently; and it was Katniss who comforted him on the train on their first day of school, when Peeta's mother had told him that if he continued on this path, he'd end up dead, and rightfully so.

And in the past couple of years, Peeta couldn't help but notice how beautiful his friend was becoming. If only he had the courage to act on his burgeoning feelings... They had gone to the Yule Ball together, but she had made it very clear that they were going as friends, nothing more, because she was concerned that Gale Hawthorne, another childhood friend of hers, was going to ask her out, and she wanted a perfect, ready-made excuse to say no. And Peeta had agreed to the charade, despite the fact that he had secretly wanted so much more…But like Shakespeare's eponymous lovers, the fact that they were in different houses had not made the course of their friendship run easy; most of his classmates, bar Cedric, were convinced Katniss would prove to be a Dark witch, and most of Katniss' classmates were repelled by his Muggleborn status. Dumbledore's words, while clearly intended to be about Ron and Hermione, were quite an unexpected comfort.

When Peeta looked up, he was quite disconcerted to see that the Headmaster's piercing gaze was fixed upon him, a tiny half-smile pulling up the corners of his lips, and Peeta felt his face flood with colour. Was Dumbledore insinuating more than it first seemed?

"Thank you again for the cakes, Mr Mellark," said Dumbledore, reaching for another. "They really are quite remarkable."

"You're welcome, sir," mumbled Peeta as he turned an even brighter shade of scarlet. "Umm… If there's any left, can they please get sent down to the Common Room? It's just that I promised my friends and— "

"I'll see to it." Everyone looked up as Madame Maxime returned to the office. "Now, we have a few things that need to be discussed, and I'm quite sure you need your rest. Any questions you have can be answered in the morning. Good night, Mr Mellark."

Peeta nodded and slowly walked towards the dorm. He was not looking forward to spending an entire night with someone in such a bad mood as Ron. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the wooden door open and spied the boy sitting on one of the beds, angrily munching on an iced cookie.

"Hey," said Peeta, closing the door behind him.

Ron looked up momentarily, and then returned his attention to the plate. "Don't feel like you need to make conversation with me," he said. "Feel free to go straight to sleep. I promise I won't think any less of you."

"Ok," said Peeta, taken aback. "Yeah, we could sit here in an awkward silence. Sounds like a lot of fun to me. Or we could talk. I reckon it'll make the time pass faster."

"Look, mate," said Ron, still not looking up at him. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I really don't want anything to do with you." He took another large bite of a cookie, and made a small, appreciative groan.

"Fair enough," said Peeta, taking out his wand. He pointed it at the plate and muttered, "Accio," sending the remaining cookies zooming into his left hand.

"What the hell?" complained Ron, as Peeta sat down on the edge of his bed, kicked off his shoes and put his feet up.

"You don't want anything to do with me," shrugged Peeta as he selected an iced cookie. The one he had decorated with katniss flowers was still there and intact. He smiled to himself before taking a small bite. "And as I made these, I figured that request probably extended to them as well."

"You didn't make them," said Ron, a frown creasing his brow.

Peeta shrugged once again, taking another bite of the cookie. Not bad, but he really should have added cinnamon to the dough…

"I said you didn't make them," repeated Ron. "Did you?"

Peeta nodded as he finished the last bite, before he selected another, this one decorated with lavender. He didn't really want another, but if making the younger boy jealous meant that he wouldn't be spending the evening sitting in an uncomfortable silence then he reasoned that it was worth it.

"How?" demanded Ron.

"Pretty simple. Flour, sugar, butter—"

"That's not… I mean… How?"

"Our Common Room is right by the kitchens. I've been sneaking in there to bake for years."

"Why?"

Peeta shrugged once again. "We all need a way to relax, right? Some people play Quidditch, some people play Gobstones, some people read, some people play chess… I bake. I always have done."

Ron looked thoughtful for a moment. "Can I have another?"

Peeta nodded and smiled, handing the remaining stack of cookies back to his room-mate. Ron selected one at random and took a bite. "They're really good," he said, almost absent-mindedly.

"Thanks. Got to be good at something, I suppose."

"You're pretty good at Quidditch."

"I'm sorry, what?"

Ron shifted uncomfortably on the bed for a moment. "You were on the team last year, right? You nearly had Harry off his broom several times."

Peeta thought back to the opening match the year before and shuddered. He'd made it onto the team for the first time, and after that match against Gryffindor, he'd retired straight away. Yes, they'd won, yes, he'd played a strong game, but… he recalled the Dementors at the match; the dreadful, suffocating cold that had penetrated his lungs at their arrival; his mother's hateful words echoing through his mind; the physical pain of every single time she had struck him. He'd managed to land safely, but only just, barely aware that Potter had fallen from a great height, and that Cedric had won the match for them.

Madame Pomfrey treated him with chocolate and sent him on his way, but he couldn't quite forget that terrifying feeling, nor could he help associating that feeling with the game itself. He felt nothing but relief that Cedric hadn't managed to secure a rematch, for it meant that the team would have time to find and train a new Beater.

"Yeah," said Peeta slowly. "It… wasn't really for me."

"Really? I'd love to be on the team one day. I mean, the pressure's already on, most of my family have been on the Gryffindor team, and everyone kind of expects it of me, but—"

"It is what you want, right? Not just what you think everyone else wants?"

Ron looked at Peeta incredulously. "Yes, it's what I want," he snapped

"I didn't mean to offend you," said Peeta. "I'm sorry." There was a loud screech as a huge owl flew past the window, attracting both boys' attention. "Must be hard, though. Growing up with so much expectation on you."

Ron fell silent. "I guess so," he said eventually.

"It's bad enough for me," added Peeta. "I've got two older brothers, and even now my folks keep expecting me to 'give up this magic phase' and come and work for the family business, like they do."

"They're wizards too?"

"No. Just me. So they have all these expectations that after my education I'm going to come home and live like a Muggle, but how can I, knowing what I know now?"

"Sounds tough," said Ron. "But try having five older brothers who have all been really successful in the world you're living in, knowing that you have those expectations piled on you, not just from your family, but from all your teachers as well."

Peeta chuckled quietly. "And then you go and make best friends with the most famous wizard around, and a genius as well? Sounds like you're a glutton for punishment." He withered slightly under the glare that Ron shot him. "I'm sorry, mate. I'm just kidding," he said, holding his hands up placatingly. "Anyway, I'm hardly one to talk about being overshadowed by my best mates."

The hint of a smile crossed Ron's face, as he tucked into the final cookie. "I'm sure it's not that bad. Besides, anyone who can cook like this has to be ok in my book."

"Thanks," smiled Peeta. "Maybe if I can convince the board of governors to introduce baking as a NEWT, I'll end up with some decent qualifications after all."

"Oh come on, it can't be that bad. You're still here. I doubt I'll be allowed to stay on after my OWLs. Unless they let me copy Hermione."

"Yeah. It's always handy having a mate who can help you out. And if they're easy on the eyes too… So much the better."

"What are you saying about Hermione?"

"What?" said Peeta, feigning innocence. "I was talking about my friend, Katniss. I'd never have got into NEWT Potions or Transfiguration without her help. And, well… studying isn't so much of a chore if you've got someone nice to look at, am I right?"

Instead of answering directly, Ron looked out of the window. "Hermione's a really good study partner," he said quietly, gazing into the far distance. He suddenly shook himself, and was back in the room. "What's Cedric doing tomorrow to get you out, then?"

His impending fate hit him like a ton of bricks. Despite Dumbledore's reassurances that they would all be perfectly safe, Peeta couldn't help but worry. The idea of being at the bottom of that cold, vast lake, asleep, unable to move, unable to defend himself at all…He shuddered slightly, hoping that Ron hadn't noticed. "I don't suppose it matters telling you at this stage," he said. "He's doing the Bubble-Head Charm. Hardly original, I know, but it works, at least."

"The what?" asked Ron.

"Bubble-Head. You know, it creates an air bubble around your head that holds even under water. I mean, I know that's not what it was created for. Apparently, Wilbur Locksworthy originally created it so he could always have a supply of fresh, clean air when he visited his infirm mother in hospital, as of course hospitals weren't as sterile back then as they are now, but the fact that it works under water is ideal for the purposes of the task. I'd think that's probably what everyone will be doing, won't it?"

"Maybe," said Ron, looking decidedly green-skinned all of a sudden. It struck Peeta that despite all their best efforts, maybe the three fourth-year students hadn't actually found a solution to the under water problem.

"What's Harry doing?" he asked delicately.

"Probably that….bubble….thing," said Ron, looking even more panicked than before.

"I'm sure whatever he does, he'll be ok," said Peeta.

"Yeah, of course he'll be ok. Dumbledore's looking out for us. He's not gonna let us get hurt, and he's not gonna let them get hurt either. It's just… I want Harry to win."

"Of course you do. But there's no shame in not winning."

"Spoken like a true Hufflepuff."

"Spoken like a true realist, I think you'll find. He's entered a competition designed to put the abilities of witches and wizards three years older than him to the limit. And I admit, he did phenomenally in the first task. But—"

"How many times do we have to tell you people before you listen?" shouted Ron. Angry red splotches coloured his cheeks and the tips of his ears. "Harry didn't enter. Someone's trying to hurt him!"

"Ok, ok," said Peeta. He'd forgotten who he was speaking to for a moment. He had indeed heard the young Gryffindors' theory that someone else had entered Harry's name into the Goblet. Some of his classmates had dismissed the idea entirely, convinced that Harry had entered himself. Peeta didn't know what to think. He couldn't see any reason why someone else would enter Harry's name, nor how they could have done it under Dumbledore's nose, and equally he couldn't see how Harry could have possibly convinced the Goblet that he was either old enough or that Hogwarts was allowed two champions. "But like you said, Dumbledore's not going to let anyone get hurt, so if he loses, no harm done, and he can't be ashamed at not knowing what he hasn't learned yet." He chuckled to himself. "If it was me in the tournament, the best I could hope for would be to die as myself, and not make a complete fool out of myself in the process. So he's already one up on me."

Ron shifted uncomfortably for a second or two. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Sorry if I'm snapping. It's just—"

"I know," said Peeta. "You're worried. Me too."

"It's not just Harry," admitted Ron. "Hermione's my best friend too, and she's…" He trailed off, and suddenly became very interested in picking at a piece of loose cotton on the duvet cover.

"She'll be perfectly fine," assured Peeta.

"Yeah. With Victor."

"I'm pretty sure she's as surprised at being deemed the person he's most likely to miss as you are. I mean, look at Fleur. They were able to bring someone over for her from France. Couldn't they get someone from home for him, too? Maybe he doesn't have many friends. Maybe there simply wasn't anyone else for him. If you think about it, it's quite sad, really."

"Yeah," said Ron, a slight smile crossing his face. "It is sad." He looked up and made eye contact with Peeta. "Thanks," he said, his grin widening.

"No problem."

"Look… Good luck for tomorrow. Don't get me wrong. I still want Harry to win. But… I guess it wouldn't be so bad if it's a Hogwarts victory at least."

"You too."

Ron reached under his pillow and pulled out a neatly folded pair of red tartan pyjamas, then stood up and walked towards the adjacent bathroom. Peeta lay back on the bed, folding his hands behind his head, when he heard another loud screech at the window. A handsome tawny owl was perched on the windowsill, scratching at the window to get in. He quickly opened the window, and the owl flew inside, circling the room once, before dropping a sealed letter on Peeta's bed, and flying straight back outside into the night air.

Peeta quickly tore the envelope open, immediately recognising the neat cursive on the envelope as Katniss' handwriting.

Really missed you tonight. Hope you're ok and not in too much trouble. I nearly got caught by Professor Snape on my way back in! That won't stop me going out again to send this to you though.

I know you've been worried, but I just wanted to let you know that whatever happens tomorrow, he'll be ok! And I'm putting in a special request—chocolate orange cupcakes please. You can make them for me tomorrow night. Just because I'm right and I didn't get any of them tonight, and I'm a really good friend for making you feel better.

Give Prim a hug from me, and tell her that her sister loves her.

Sleep well, and see you in the morning

K xxx

He re-read the letter several times, beaming widely, then folded the letter up and neatly tucked it into his robes. The evening was turning out to be better than expected, after all.

A/N - Thanks for reading, please do leave a review, and come say hi on tumblr - username alatarielgildaen :)