Prologue:

Draco Malfoy stared in horror at the mangled grin plastered on the face of his reflection, its cold grey eyes emoting nothing.

"Am I mad?"

The image nodded vigorously, building up momentum until the head was out of control, bouncing around in circles like the neck was made of rubber.

Draco took a step away and so did his reflection, the head snapping into stillness.

"You are right barking bad!" it cackled, flapping its arms like a caged bird. "Do you know the only way to get me out of my head?"

Draco shook his head slowly, unsure of whether or not he was still apart of reality, scared stiff that maybe his own head would act in a fashion similar to that of his counterpart. It remained in its normal position on his neck, but the thoughts inside the skull were bouncing every which way, threatening to break through in a rain of bones, brains, and hair.

A rope materialized in his doppelganger's grasp, swinging back and forth ominously, like a pendulum ticking the seconds until doomsday. "You kill us of course!"

The words stilled his disorganized thoughts, tying them all together as if the very rope in the reflection's hand had lassoed them. As a whole, they created an image of his future. Without his wife, without his daughter, without his career, he was nothing.

As Draco Malfoy stood in the splendour of his bedroom, he knew that he was right. Death was the only way out and even if it weren't, Draco felt that is was the most definite.

"What do you have in mind?" he asked, looking up at the reflection that was now perfectly in synch with his moments.

"Something that will make them talk for years," he heard himself say, feeling his own lips form the words this time. "Something that will make up for all the pain you have caused."

The smile was frightening, but it felt like the most real thing Draco had ever experienced. He turned away from the mirror, though there was a strain on his muscles as he did so. It was as if his body was reacting to the turmoil in his head, as if it knew the pain of disconnection, as if it didn't want to let go of him.

"As if I give a fuck…" he whispered.