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

40 - The Boy With No Name

The first thing I noticed about the boy with the golden hair was his eyes.

Nico's eyes.

They were like emeralds sparkling out of a small sea of porcelain. Skin so delicate and pure.

The boy with no name, just a number.

*****

The children's home, much to my cold horror, reminded me of the warehouse.

Not from the outside. From there it looked like a large gothic house enclosed behind a large wrought iron gate, perhaps one you would find in the opening scene of a horror movie. Beautiful, yet haunting.

But it was like stepping back to the worst week of my life when inside we were shown to The Dormitory.

"This isn't a home," I whispered furiously to Draco as we stood at the threshold of a high ceilinged hall filled with rows and rows of camp beds, where upon each one sat a numbered child with sunken eyes and bony limbs, "it's a fucking institution."

He gently placed a hand on my back, moving me closer to his side. He knew that I would find this difficult, that it would break my heart knowing we could not save all the other children, that we were only there for one.

No inspections needed. No references. The manager, an overweight woman in her fifties who acted as though she liked kids as much as Voldemort liked Muggles, seemed to be expecting us. I could only assume that this had something to do with Snape. Because there seemed to be no question that we would be leaving without Nico's son.

"It's the depression," Marge the manager muttered as she clocked the horrified expression on my face, "people dropping their kids on the doorstep thinking we could give 'em a better life. What a joke. Ain't got no money, that's the problem. And the government ain't interested, they're more concerned with all the mysterious disappearances that keep happening lately."

"If it's money you need," I said at once, seizing at the chance, "we can give you some. These poor children need feeding."

Marge licked her fat lips, probably already mentally spending it on restocking her own private fridge.

"Maybe some kind of payment plan might work best-"

Draco pointedly cleared his throat. It was not that he did not care, but it was not what we were there for.

"Oh, right yes," Marge grunted, shuffling the papers in her hand. "Number 067," she barked loudly into the room, "you're up."

It was as though the ground had vanished from beneath my feet. The entire room tipped and I was overcome by a dizziness that made me feel sick. But it had to be a coincidence? Surely?

My eyes met Draco's and I could see he was as deeply disturbed by this as I was. Had Lucius known all along? Had it been some kind of sick joke to him to have given Nico that exact same number?

Draco clutched my shaking hand in his, tightly entwining his fingers around them, helping to give me strength as I pressed my face into his shoulder, trying to stop the spinning.

"Look up, Alia," Draco murmured in my ear, his voice choking slightly, "it's him... my brother."

Drawing in a shaky breath, I slowly lifted my head, my heart stilling as a small boy with a mop of shockingly blonde hair and bright green eyes slid off the foot of his bed. On the front of his dirty vest displayed a sticker, the number 067 scrawled untidily upon it.

There was no question that this boy was a Malfoy. It was like staring at a mini Draco.

"Come," Marge barked, "and bring your belongings. You'll be sleeping in a new bed tonight."