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."

Crabbe couldn't help but give another wheezing chuckle. It was about time the ferret be taken down a peg or two. Especially as it was no secret he was screwing that Indian chick.

It pissed Crabbe off that Malfoy always got the fit ones. First there was Pansy who Crabbe had always fantasised about when he was banging one out. Then, when Malfoy eventually tired of Pansy's clingy ways and dumped her, he began to branch out to the Beauxbatons girls, with their full figures and long shimmery hair.

Yet, despite all these beautiful women, Malfoy always looked so fucking miserable. Damn, he deserved to die solely for that.

"Odd." Crabbe ventured, anxiously licking his lips in anticipation as he waited for Malfoy to reveal his hand.

Three. Crabbe punched the air, crowing in delight. Fuck, this was the easiest game in the world. He only wished he'd bet more than four marbles.

*****

Draco flinched as a gunshot reverberated in the air, his heart almost stopping.

"Player 453, eliminated."

He closed his eyes in relief, a sigh leaving his lips a little too heavily. Every time- every single fucking time, he prayed not to hear a certain number.

"Worried yer little pussy buddy won't be waiting fer ya in the bog?" Crabbe chortled. "Don' matter anyway, yer'll be dead soon enough."

Draco resisted the urge to punch him. Instead, he glanced down at the marbles he had left. A cold sweat prickled at the back of his neck.

Two.

He needed to think, and he needed to think fast. The rules... there must be something he was missing. And then he got it.

"We need to change the game." Draco demanded.

Crabbe looked up at him, cocking an eyebrow.

"Why should I?" He sneered. "I'm on a roll."

"We played it your way until now, so now we're playing what I want."

"I don't want to." Crabbe pouted, sounding very much like a toddler being told to tidy his room.

"Fuck." Draco jumped to his feet and strode over to the pink guard watching over them. "Let us change the game," he demanded. "That's only fair. You said it is all about equality, didn't you?"

The guard considered him for a moment and Draco did his best to stare him down, which wasn't an easy thing to do given the masks that hid their faces.

"Request accepted."

*****

"It's a good job I'm good at getting things into holes."

"Will you quit giggling and just take your fucking shot." Draco sighed as he waited impatiently for Crabbe to toss his marble towards the makeshift hole in the ground.

He was keen to just get this over with and find Alia. Dumbledore had pretty much already lost his marbles so it was with a hopeful wish that he'd lose these ones pretty easily, too.

One thing was for certain: by the end of the game, Alia will have lost a sister.

With not having any siblings himself, Draco had to only guess how that would be for her. He supposed it might be like losing a part of one's self, like he himself had never felt whole since losing his mother.

"Fuck-" Crabbe hissed when his marble missed the target by miles.

He was always a lousy aim. Unlike Draco who could play this game with his eyes closed. It was perhaps unfair, but he knew he had to do everything he could to get out of this place alive.

And when he made the winning shot, instead of laughing in Crabbe's face as he would have most likely done back to him, Draco found himself landing a hand regretfully on Crabbe's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, man," he choked out, unable to look him directly in the eye, his chest aching at the feeling of having betrayed one of his oldest friends.

But instead of accepting his apology, Crabbe spat in his face, called him a prick, and began to run.

The pink guard released a heavy sigh before casually striding after him with his gun aloft.

Draco winced when, less than a minute later, a gunshot ripped through the air.

"Player 278, eliminated."

Poor Crabbe.

*****

Draco plodded heavily through the fake village, heading slowly towards the exit, walking past frantic games of marbles still being played and being careful not to step on the dead bodies of those eliminated.

He was hit with a feeling of relief every time he saw that Alia wasn't amongst the shot. It was strange, because he barely knew the girl, but her survival seemed to matter to him just as much as his own. It was also extremely unnerving, if not a little infuriating.

"Please tell me you don't seriously wish our little sister dead?!"

Draco froze. He had just been about to round the corner of the market street he'd been ambling down, when he heard the heated exchange going on between the Patil twins.

Keeping himself hidden, he strained his ears and listened.

"The thing is, I already thought she was." The second voice spoke. Padma. "I made my peace with it, even. But you and I both know her existence was never coincidental, that Mum and Dad would never have had her if it wasn't for Panav."

"Padma... please don't-"

"And he ended up fucking dying, anyway!"

"It wasn't Alia's fault! Panav would have died either way-"

"That is not the point! It should have been you, me and Panav! Not Alia."

What the fuck? Draco's blood began to boil at the way Padma was speaking so callously about Alia, who only seemed to adore her sisters in return. And who the fuck was this Panav?

As the Patil twins began to move onto the topic of childhood memories, Draco decided to leave, resisting the temptation to punch a wall.

However, just as he walked around the corner, he caught sight of Padma snatching up Parvati's bag of marbles at the last minute, a move which, even by Draco's standards, was cowardly beyond belief.

It was hard to watch the look on Parvati's face as it fell, realising what the closest person in the world to her had done. A betrayal like no other.

Luckily, the pink guard stepped in and blew her face off, saving Draco from having to witness this disturbing display of emotion any further.

With a sick feeling deep in the pit of his stomach, he averted his gaze and hurriedly continued on his way, desperate to reach the exit, desperate to see who else had survived.

*****