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

18 - Crabbe and Draco

A/N: Sorry about the late update, have had a super busy few days and no time to just chill and write about gore and death. Anyway, here it is, sorry if it's a little bad. I struggled to find much empathy whilst writing these two.

*****

The white-blond haired Slytherin permitted himself to feel a momentary wave of relief before a flicker of regret crept in.

He didn't want to kill Crabbe, of course. Fuck, he didn't actually want to kill anyone.

But his gut instinct had told him this was going to happen the moment they declared they had to 'partner' up. What sicker pleasure could they get more so than watching people having to go up against their closest allies?

So, thinking fast, he had chosen Crabbe, knowing he needed someone with as little intellect as possible.

Except playing marbles relied on luck, something he wasn't getting much of lately.

Well... almost. His gaze drifted over to where Alia was stood with Dumbledore, unnerved by the way she made him feel.

It wasn't unpleasant... but it wasn't needed, either. This wasn't the time or the place, he knew, but he found himself being inexplicably pulled towards the Ravenclaw's orbit, despite the initial clash they had had on arrival.

"So," Crabbe grunted, reluctantly drawing Draco's attention back. "Guess this is the end of the road for us, huh? Still, it was fun while it lasted."

Draco just stared at him. He'd never heard Crabbe speak such an elaborate sentence before, let alone a poetic one.

He looked into his friend's squashed, pockmarked face, his beady eyes nothing but tiny slits as they glinted back at him.

"What?" Draco felt a flicker of annoyance at the way Crabbe was grinning back at him.

Clearly sensing his unease, Crabbe began to shake as a wheezy chuckle left his bulbous lips. "Damn, Malfoy. Your face. You really thought I was your lackey because I called you boss? Nah. Right here, right now, you are trying ter crawl yer way out of the dirt as much as I am. And I'm telling ya, boss, I'll fight yer pathetic spineless backside ter the death."

Draco balled his fists by his sides, a muscle twitching at the corner of his eye. Crabbe had no idea who he was talking to.

Yet... he also knew he had to do what he could to survive. Especially as survival wasn't the only incentive Draco had to get out of this place. And it wasn't about the prize winnings.

"Let's play," he muttered stiffly, yanking open his bag of marbles. "And I'm going first."

******

Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts former rich boy, reduced to playing a game of marbles crouched on a dusty ground just to get his hands on some gold.

The fact that Vincent Crabbe thought this pathetic, made he, himself, chuckle.

"What the fuck is so funny?" Malfoy demanded, his pale face pinched in a scowl, his fist closed so tight that his knuckles were whiter than ever.

"Just picturing you with a gunshot wound to yer head. It would be shame ter dye that pretty hair of yers red. Migh' be mistaken fer a Weasley."