This story was originally posted on FFN only, but I have (finally) decided to crosspost an edited version on AO3. I'm going to replace the original chapters with the edited ones here on FFN as well. TOM is unbetaed, and I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

When I wrote The Wedding, I was determined not to write a sequel. I wanted to leave it all up to the reader's imagination – what happened after Katniss and Peeta's enforced wedding night? But of course, I kept getting PMs and reviews with questions… Which made me start wondering.

Well, one thing led to another, and The Other Mockingjay ended up at 40 chapters and nearly 200,000 words... What started out as just a sequel to The Wedding got completely out of hand, and became an alternate Catching Fire and Mockingjay.

TOM was nominated for an Everlark Smut Award in Round 2 (in the Best Shower Smut category) and won a Nightlock Reader's Choice Award in the Best Mockingjay Fic Category.

If you haven't read The Wedding already, please do so now, before you start reading.

Chapter 1: A breakfast to remember

There's a fire burning inside me. It was first lit by the Hunger Games. Later, I saw with my own eyes the contrast between the starving children in District 12 and the revolting extravagance of the Capitol. It continued with the closed, gaunt, hungry faces I saw on our Victory Tour of the districts. With the other victors, when I saw how many of them simply haven't been able to live a normal life after the Games. Broken, drugged, sold, destroyed.

But most of all, my fire was lit by President Snow, who is ultimately behind both the murders in the arena and the injustice and starvation in Panem.

I will never forget what he made Peeta and me do yesterday. I will never forgive.

I look across the table, at Prim, looking far too pretty - and far too mature. She's 14 already. When did she stop being a little girl?

She's still of reaping age. She will be for years.

I know that Snow has the upper hand. As long as he can use our families against us, he is in effect holding us hostage. I look at Peeta out of the corner of my eye as he's chatting with my mother and Prim over breakfast. Peeta is just so… amiable. He knows exactly how to make people feel at ease. He's even made my mother relax.

I blush as I think about the things he did to me last night, with his tongue and his hands and his cock, and I'm a bit surprised that he can to talk to my mother this morning as if nothing's happened.

"I've never had a son, Peeta," I hear her tell him, "but I'm so happy to have one now, and I really can't wait for you to be part of our family." I look down. Our family is torn, broken and incomplete. Now that's really something to be a part of. It sounds like she actually means it, though. She's clearly fallen for Peeta's irresistible charm. I've got to give it to him, he's great with people.

At least my mother is trying, unlike the woman who just became my mother-in-law.

"Mrs. Mellark has never had a daughter before either," Prim says, looking over at Peeta's mother. "Won't it be wonderful to have a daughter, Mrs. Mellark?"

I have to bite my lip to keep a sarcastic remark back, and for a split second, Peeta's mother looks like she's eaten a lemon. Then she regains her composure. "Absolutely," she answers, but her voice is cold and hard. Even Peeta can't think of anything to say to smooth it over, and there's an uncomfortable silence around the table.

Surprisingly, President Snow is the one who breaks the silence. "It certainly was a fairytale wedding," Snow says, and for a second I wonder where he's going with this. Snow never says anything to smooth things over. There is always a purpose, a hidden meaning. "That was quite a performance yesterday, Mr. and Mrs. Mellark." I freeze at his words, as does Peeta.

So Snow does know. He has probably seen the footage of us already. I know Snow isn't talking about the wedding itself – he is referring to what happened last night. "It was really heartwarming to see the star-crossed lovers promising to love each other… until death do you part, as they say."

I finally manage to bring up the courage to look at Snow, he's sitting on the opposite side of the table, two chairs down from my mother.

His warning is crystal clear.

"Yesterday was a dream come true," Peeta says. He suddenly turns to me, his eyes are nearly black. I can see how he's trying very hard to control his anger. He knows what's at stake.

It's the intensity of the kiss that takes me by complete surprise, more than the fact that he kisses me in itself. My first reaction is to resist because it's so sudden and unexpected, but his strong hands, one on my hip and the other around my shoulders, don't allow me to move away from him. The kiss is a shockingly indiscreet public display of affection, here in front of our families, but still I allow his probing tongue to invade my mouth. I can feel his anger, I can almost taste it.

Even this morning, Snow is mocking us, by calling what happened between us last night a performance.

It would be so easy to get lost in Peeta's kiss, but I have to try to smooth things over. There is too much at stake, it's too dangerous. I'm also very much aware of the fact that my little sister is watching us, as is my mother. Not to mention his mother… And the rest of his family.

There is too much at stake here. They are all so vulnerable. And Peeta and I are vulnerable because of them.

I break the kiss with a laugh, pretending to sound embarrassed and happy like I imagine a blushing bride on the morning after her wedding is supposed to be, when her husband displays to the world just how much he desires her. Did he really read Effie's stupid book? I wonder. "Peeta, honey… Not when everyone's here…." I try to sound like one of those airheads in Capitol soap operas. I feel disgusted with myself, but this is a show, too.

I have to play my part.

I meet his eyes, and the anger is still there. My hand gives his shoulder a warning squeeze.

Get it together.

"Sorry, Katniss, but you know… Hard to resist," he answers with a smile. Saying something like that in public is so unlike him, but he's back in the act. Of course, our public display of affection is also playing it right up the Capitol alley. This is what everyone in the Capitol expects us to do.

Finnick Odair's impossibly sea green eyes are twinkling at me from across the table.

"So, where are you going on your honeymoon?" Effie says, and I want to hug her for coming to our rescue. It's clearly deliberate, because she knows everything about our schedule, including the fact that we're all booked on a train to 12 later today.

"We're actually not going on a honeymoon," I tell her, and Effie widens her eyes in fake shock. Going on a honeymoon is another one of those stupid Capitol rituals – where newlyweds go to an exotic holiday destination to have wild and complicated sex for two weeks before they return home and their life of domestic boredom begins. This is of course something which is totally unheard of in District 12. First of all, you can't leave the district at all without a permit, which you won't get. And even if you could get a permit, no one would be able to afford it. "Honeymoon" is simply a word that doesn't exist in the District 12 vocabulary.

"We did consider it, but then we agreed that what we really wanted was to begin our life together as a married couple home in 12," Peeta tells her, and I can tell he's truly back on track now.

The reality is that our honeymoon had already been booked, though obviously not by us. We were going to a holiday resort on the beach in District 4. The TV crew had even been booked, the publicity plan was ready. But suddenly, just two days ago, the honeymoon was cancelled, and no one would tell us why. Not that Peeta and I minded, we just wanted to go home as soon as possible anyway, but there is something not quite right about it all.

"That's really too bad," Effie says apologetically, and then goes on to tell everyone excitedly about all her three honeymoons. I exhale, relieved. I can always count on Effie to talk about nothing forever, keeping everyone occupied and thereby avoiding sensitive subjects.

Our train back to District 12 leaves in the afternoon, and I can't wait to be on it. I'm exhausted. I hate this place.

Effie keeps everyone talking about honeymoons, rude servants and how terrible salt water is for her hair for the rest of the meal. She gets into a heated discussion with Johanna about the virtues of salt water versus fresh water, which is quite entertaining for a while. Between the two of them, they manage to keep everyone busy enough to stay off potentially embarrassing or dangerous subjects.

From the stolen looks Johanna sends me, I suspect it's not a coincidence. She's trying to help me out, and I feel so grateful that she's talking to Effie, who I know she detests, to help us. I think Effie is doing the same thing, too, even though I don't think she's talked to Johanna about it in advance. Effie does love attention, that's true, but this is much, even for her.

Finnick is the first to leave the table. He waves a white envelope in the air, winks and says he has some business to attend to.

Peeta squeezes my hand under the table. I have to fight back tears.

Before he leaves, Finnick comes over to Peeta and me, saying he wants to say goodbye in case he doesn't have time to catch us before our train leaves in the afternoon. First he shakes hands with Peeta, and then he gives me a kiss on each cheek, each of them lasting just a little bit too long. After the second one, he doesn't move away from me. Instead, he cocks his head, looks down at the curve of my neck, and inhales deeply. He closes his eyes as if to savor my scent, like I'm an exquisite flower. "Mmmmm, you smell nice, Katniss," he says in that seductive voice of his. "You smell like you're… ripe. Finally." I freeze. What on earth is he talking about?

He laughs when he sees that I don't understand. "You have always been so pure, but… You're not quite as pure this morning as you were yesterday, are you?" I blush furiously, I can't believe he'd say something like that in front of everyone – especially our mothers.

"Finnick!" I hiss, and Peeta seems to be choking on his orange juice.

"Just give me a call if you need any advice, Peeta. Although by the looks of your bride this morning, it's probably not necessary." He winks at me, and then leaves the room with a huge grin on his face.

I'm close to tears, and Peeta is blushing furiously. My mother observes me closely with a slightly puzzled look in her eyes though. I know she must be thinking about the conversation we had yesterday. She looks… worried. My mother is a lot of things, but she's not stupid. She knows that something is up, but she doesn't know what exactly is going on. There are a lot of things about the Capitol that she doesn't know about – such as how victors are treated. She still believes at least most of the lies we have all been told all our lives: That victors are being treated nearly like royalty, living the rest of their lives in luxury.

Reality, however, is quite different. I have to try to keep the truth away from her, but I don't know if I can. Peeta's mother, on the other hand, looks both angry and embarrassed, and his two brothers are the only people in the room who are laughing openly.

"Well, it's time for me to leave this party too," Johanna says. I had thought that nothing Johanna Mason does could surprise me anymore, but I find that I'm wrong when she suddenly opens the zipper of her dress, which falls to the floor. Underneath it, she is stark naked. "Are you two coming?"

I just stand there, frozen, too stunned to reply. Peeta, though, doesn't miss a beat. He smiles and briefly thanks everyone for attending our wedding and as well as this breakfast, making a lame excuse about us having to pack our things before our train leaves.

All we have is one overnight bag each. We can't use our Capitol clothes in 12, and we can't use our own clothes in the Capitol. Needing several hours to pack is clearly excessive. What Peeta is actually doing is running away from this breakfast, which has been nothing but embarrassing and awkward. Although following a naked Johanna seems inappropriate, it is definitely better than staying. So what if they think we just can't wait to be alone so that we can make love again?

I couldn't care less. So I don't let go of Peeta's hand.

Our families follow us, too. I guess Peeta and I weren't the only ones who found breakfast unbearable.

I have no idea how Peeta manages to talk to Johanna as if nothing's out of the ordinary when she's stark naked save for her gold pumps, but he does. How can he ignore her breasts when they are practically in his face? I hope no one notices that I glance unhappily at Johanna's ass, which is, well... Perfect, really.

As we wait for the elevator, Mrs. Mellark – the other Mrs. Mellark, as I am also Mrs. Mellark now, and the thought makes me queasy - hisses: "Have you no shame?" to Johanna.

Johanna just laughs and says: "No!" after which there is nothing left to say. Mrs. Mellark's mouth opens and closes several times, but not a single word comes out, which is a definite improvement.

Johanna gets off on the fourth floor, but just before she does, she whispers, nearly inaudibly, to Peeta and me: "Be careful, you two." She turns around to look at us before the elevator doors close between us. She's still only wearing her gold pumps with the impossibly high heels, but there is nothing funny or embarrassing about the warning in her eyes.

She knows something.

Why does everyone around here seem to know something that Peeta and I don't? Everything in the Capitol is a maze of secrets. Secrets my mother can't know about. Secrets no one is letting me in on.

Secrets that could potentially kill me. Or Prim. Or Peeta.