Hallows Game || HP X Squid Game (Draco Malfoy)

12 - Sunny Side Up

"Good morning, players! And welcome to another bright and promising day. Breakfast will be served shortly, and, as a thank you for all your hard work, this morning we shall provide each and every one of you with a full English cooked breakfast. Guards will come around and take your order on how you would like your eggs. Personally, I thoroughly recommend sunny side up."

I was deafened by the loud classical music which started to filter into the almost derelict dormitory. People around us stirred, groaning as they awakened from their slumber. Almost at once I heard the sound of sobbing coming from further up the dormitory. Ron.

Groaning, I rolled over, placing the pillow over my head.

Ten minutes later, I was woken up by an angry pink guard repeatedly prodding his gun into my back. "Player 199. I demand that you tell me how you would like your eggs before you find yourself eliminated!"

Before I got the chance to tell him that he could stick his gun where the sun don't shine, we were interrupted by a third party.

"My, my, my, so unnecessarily impolite," Dumbledore mused as he hobbled over, looking sternly at the pink guard, "tell me, young man, what appears to be the problem here?"

Taken aback, the guard swiftly lowered the gun down by his side and whirled around to face the old man. "When players do not follow rules, players get eliminated. Those are my orders."

"Well, then," Dumbledore said calmly holding up a gnarled finger in the air. "If it is simply a matter of finding out how she would like her eggs, then I can surely help you there. From what I recall as her former headmaster, young Alia here is rather partial to the poached variety. Am I correct in thinking this, Miss Patil?"

I opened and closed my mouth, not quite believing that Dumbledore had not only remembered my name, but also how I liked my eggs, too. Perhaps he wasn't losing his marbles, after all.

"Uh- yeah... poached is good." I mumbled blearily, my head still fuzzy from sleep.

Despite not being able to see his face, it was clear the guard was slightly put out at not getting to serve up my guts for breakfast.

I nodded a thanks to Dumbledore as the guard stropped off, muttering to himself about crap wages.

"Did you have a bad night, Alia?" Dumbledore asked, his smile faltering as he took in my appearance.

What the fuck did he think? Was it possible to have a good night after being involved in a game that killed half the players?

"Just a late one," I mumbled sleepily, not being able to help but glance over to the other side of the dormitory where Draco was leaning languidly against the frame of the bunks, deep in discussion with Goyle.

To my horror, this did not go unnoticed by Dumbledore, whose gaze followed mine. He smiled brightly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he gave a low chortle.

"Ah! It's funny how love can be found in even the most darkest of places. You can do a lot worse than Gregory Goyle, too. Strapping lad, indeed."

"Um-" I said, wanting to draw Dumbledore's attention away from them. "Do you think we should take our places for breakfast?"

Dumbledore turned to face me, smacking his lips together. "A most excellent idea, my good friend! I can smell the scent of sausages in the air, calling out to be devoured! Would you do me the kind honours of escorting this decrepit, old man, Miss Patil?"

He held out a frail arm for me to take, and grudgingly, I got out of bed, feeling the gravity of the day ahead already weighing me down.

"You're a good girl, Alia," Dumbledore said, patting my hand once I linked my arm in his, "a good, good girl."