Chapter Eleven:

His Two Lives

Clink.

A single drop of ice floated up a square glass of Firewhiskey, the glass casting a golden flickering against the wall.

Trembling slightly, his hands held the glass up to his parched lips. Draco closed his eyes as the cold liquid set his lungs on fire. Instantly, his sallow skin became flushed. He breathed a sigh of relief. The excruciating pain was finally going away.

Draco was breathing shallowly, every breath coming out in ragged gasps. He had known since yesterday that the curse was only growing stronger. He had never seen Snape look so agitated as he told Draco about the ancient curse that he sensed over him. The curse was tearing through his lungs and twisting his insides – it was worse than anything he'd ever suffered in his life – it was slow, deliberate, growing stronger every passing minute - the worst torture anyone could ever devise. He was losing strength, growing weak, forgetting things, getting so feverish that his entire body would burn, and feeling like he'd collapse and never wake up.

He threw back another mouthful of Firewhiskey straight from the bottle.

The room was coming into focus again.

Draco opened his gaunt eyes, looking wearily around him, trying to understand where he was. He was at the Manor … the drawing room was decorated lavishly with floating irises … he heard music playing as if from a distance … a gothic romantic waltz with violins and an organ … he could hear the music grow stronger, more forceful …

"All right, mate?" Blaise Zabini asked as if from a distance, pouring himself a drink beside Draco. "You hold your liquor better than any man I've ever seen – But don't let Mrs. Parkinson catch you. That woman's been a nightmare today," He paused, chuckling, "Well, more than usual."

It was then that Draco remembered everything – it hit him like a ton of bricks. He felt like he was crashing back down to earth. He was at his engagement party … and he could barely walk from the pain.

For the past hour, Draco had been sitting in a far corner of the Manor's vast drawing room, far away from the rest of the crowd, drinking. Slouched in his chair, Draco let his hand rest slackly on the armrest, swishing a glass of Firewhiskey, staring blankly ahead. His tie was half undone over his rustled white shirt, and his hair was damp with sweat.

Draco let his head fall into his hands. He felt suddenly ashamed for not being able to keep it together. Malfoys never drank as if they needed it - they were always icy and always in control. And in just one night, Draco had let his guard down.

"She's worried about you, Pansy, I mean," Blaise said, pouring Draco another glass, "She reckons you've been poisoned or something … I mean, what's with you lately? You've been looking deathly for days."

Crabbe and Goyle sat down, nodding agreeably with Blaise, their mouths smeared with clotted cream and cake. "You all right, Draco? Is something the matter?" Goyle asked worriedly.

"The truth?" Draco asked, looking at him tiredly, "It's complicated."

They were quiet, staring down at their glasses, as the orchestra fell back to let a cellist begin a dreamy song that was livened by a deep percussion.

Blaise chuckled, leaning back, "Well, not that you'll remember any of this later, but this is most interesting party I've ever been to … You know, mate, you might want to have a dance with Pansy. You haven't spoken to her all night. If you ask me, she still has time to find better prospects, you know what I mean? The girl's not exactly the ugliest thing alive." Blaise said with a playful wink, though Draco wasn't sure how playful it was.

Draco turned away from his drink, taking in the room again. People were looking eagerly at Draco, trying to catch his eye, and some were making their way over to talk to him hesitantly. Draco gave Blaise a silent glance, and Blaise, understanding, turned to a few hooded Death Eaters and made a gesture, "He's not to be disturbed." Immediately, the Death Eaters stood erect, wands out, frightening off people from getting near them.

Even in a world of ultimate power, the Malfoys were still feared and respected with a strange awe.

Draco let his tired eyes wander around the room. It was odd how the gothic Malfoy Manor was transformed in days by Mrs. Parkinson's desire for a fairytale romantic wedding – irises hanging off mahogany stairwells, iced pink cakes floating on antlered tables, white satin bows atop the stuffed deer heads on the mantel, and an orchestra playing grim, romantic music.

Some Death Eaters, unmasked, were drinking wildly, and the other hooded Death Eaters were holding their wands dangerously, and threatening people as they walked past. Their power had never been more unbounded since the Dark Lord rose again. They were like a dangerous fire burning through everything in their path. They pushed past people, turned over chairs, ripped the floating irises to pieces, sent curses at the scrambling House-Elves, and threw glass flutes and silver goblets at the walls, laughing riotously, knowing quite well that no one would dare stop them. This was their way of having fun.

Draco rubbed his temples angrily, holding himself back from shooting them with a killing curse.

People floated by dancing in airy dress robes, brushing past him as they twirled around the room. His father, standing tall in his best robes, was talking down to the Bulgarian Minister, a short man, who had come with his wife and five children. His mother was standing next to him, holding a champagne flute in her bony hand, turning up her nose disgustedly at all the people trying to hug her for her son's engagement.

There were hundreds of trays of cakes floating around the room – all of the pieces bearing a fondant statue of Draco and Pansy enchanted so they would dance with each other and kiss. Crabbe, who was hungrily looking around for something to eat, spotted the fondant statues on a half-eaten slice of cake nearby, and eagerly pulled the one of Pansy, and bit of her head, chewing loudly. "Cor, this is delicious!"

Blaise laughed loudly, while Draco just tiredly looked away.

A magical champagne fountain with glistening golden champagne bubbled frothily till the high ceiling. The guests cheered excitedly around the fountain, as they held out their glasses and stuck their mouths open to catch a few drops. It was flowing intensely over the tables like a cascading waterfall, and pooling onto the floor. People were slipping on it, and laughing drunkenly as they tried to pick themselves off the floor.

In the distance, there was a crowd cheering two white peacocks circling each other in a mating dance, and Draco thought he was hallucinating. This wasn't real.

It was then that Draco saw Pansy for the first time that night. Wearing a crimson dress, she was kicking off her red shoes, and loosening her hair from its chignon to hang over her shoulders. He tried, tried so hard to feel that love he had once felt for her. Maybe it was the curse, but he felt so numb looking at her. He needed to keep up the pretense – the pretense that he wasn't facing a terrible choice between her and Granger, and that the only person he wanted to marry was her. But he couldn't. There was a choice between his pureblooded world and another one – one in which everything he had ever believed in never even existed. And there was a small part of him that craved to taste that unknown world – to be with some one he didn't really understand. To be with Granger, who at that moment, seemed worlds away from his lavish life. A burst of anger flooded him at the thought - was he just seriously thinking about marrying Granger?

Suddenly, he could hear Pansy giggling as if it was the only shrill sound in the room … she slowly dipped her toes in the puddle of champagne, and splashed it at her friends Daphne and Millicent, who ran shrieking. A young man sneaked up behind Pansy, tossed her fluidly over his shoulder, and jumped in the fountain with her kicking and screaming shrilly.

"Like I said," Blaise grinned, "It's the most interesting party I've ever been to."

Draco spotted Slughorn, his old Potions Master, waddle over to him, his walrus mustache bristling as he smiled. "Draco, m'boy!" He chortled happily, a glass of mead in his pudgy hand, "A fine party, this is, I must say! And two of my favorite students marrying! You'll make a fine pair, the two of you! I couldn't be happier!"

Draco nodded his head, looking away. Beaming, Slughorn walked back to the crowd, reaching in his large waistcoat pocket for some sugared pineapple snaps.

Draco could hear the orchestra beginning a slow tango, and Pansy stumbled over to him, giggling. She slid her arms around him, trying to pull him to the balcony. She was so close; he could smell her cloying perfume. Thinking he had ignored her enough, Draco got up grudgingly. His breath suddenly quickened as the pain shot through his spine, and he grasped the Firewhiskey bottle by the neck at the last minute as he stumbled behind her.

She moved seductively backward, trying to entice him to dance with her. While twirling Pansy adeptly, Draco took small shots from his bottle. As the music grew louder, the pain cut through him scalding hot. He took a swig too long just as Pansy twirled into his arms, and her pug nose collided with the bottom of the bottle.

"Owwwwww!" She howled, rubbing her nose. Draco stifled a laugh, while Crabbe and Goyle roared from behind a pillar. Daphne and Astoria chortled behind their hands.

"Put that bottle away and dance with me!" Pansy yelled. "Everyone's laughing!"

Draco scoffed, "Who cares what they think?" He took another sip roguishly, looking naughty.

Despite her anger, Pansy blushed furiously because he was hot beyond reason when he played around. A carnal look came over her eyes, "Let's go upstairs, Drakey."

"Not interested." He said numbly, draining the bottle in one go. "Not now, anyway."

Pansy pouted, "Draco, you've been having a love affair with that bottle all night! Now who are you marrying, me or that bottle?"

With a flick of his hand, he set the empty bottle floating in midair. He gave Pansy a contemplating look, and turned on his heel back to the bar to open another one. She followed him furiously, her red dress billowing in the warm air from the balcony.

"Hey!" She whined, "Did you hear me?"

When he didn't answer, Pansy shrilly began having a fit, "And what's the matter with you lately? You don't have any time for me! Blaise thinks that something's happening to you … but I think you're just being selfish! You don't care about anyone but yourself! This is my fairytale wedding, Draco, and I won't have you ruining it by being a prat!"

Draco nearly choked, laughing mirthlessly at her, "There's a whole other world fighting a war out there, and all you can think about is this silly wedding?" He uncorked another bottle forcefully, pouring a glass, making her jump. "Well, let me tell you something about your fairytale. All this?" He gestured at everything around them, gripping the glass tightly, "It's all just a lie, Pansy … just a big lie."

Pansy pouted again, making a face, and Draco groaned distastefully at her childishness. They had grown apart the last year – he had seen things from the war that would make anything in society seemed pointless and childish. The battles that had killed his family; seeing ancient Arthurian relics mutilated into horcruxes in the Cave; the people he had tortured for the pureblood cause; everything had irrevocably changed him.

"I want to be alone," Draco told her gruffly, throwing back another glass, and walked away coolly, leaving her standing near the balcony. The Death Eaters neared her threateningly at Draco's word. She was about to say something, when a hooded Death Eater held out his hand, stopping her from following him. Pansy suddenly had a fearful look in her eyes, and she turned around quietly, looking for her friends, who were grinning despite themselves at Draco's rude remark. He was, after all, the Slytherin Prince … and all the girls still had their eyes on him.

Seeing the girls giggling at Draco, Pansy stomped her feet, turning on her heel, brushing invisible tears from her face, and stormed off.

Draco collapsed back onto the chair next to the boys, drinking deeply from his glass. Closing his eyes tiredly, he suddenly felt perhaps he was too harsh with Pansy. He turned to Blaise expectantly, who merely shrugged, as if asking to be left out of it. Draco was about to get up to go find her when he heard her squealing excitedly and talking in a carrying voice to one of the wizened guests.

"… And It's goblin-made, the rarest emerald in the world, and been in the Malfoy family for generations all the way back to Morgana Le Fay!" She said happily, extending her hand for the old man to observe, swirling around, and trying to blind people across the room with the sparkling ring.

Blaise was standing next to Draco, "Well, she sure gets over things quickly, doesn't she?"

Draco smirked.

Suddenly, he heard Mrs. Parkinson shrill voice calling Pansy from a dark adjoining room, "Oh, Pansy, come here, wedding presents! There are thousands of them! Oh Merlin, I think these are antique silver goblets!"

Pansy, Daphne, Millicent, and Astoria began to scream excitedly at each other, as they nearly ran thunderously to the other room, eager to open them. The sound of wrapping paper being torn to shreds with high pitched squeals was heard from the other room.

Draco began uncorking another bottle unconsciously.

Suddenly, Narcissa Malfoy slinked up to him, looking very worried. She took in his gaunt face, and placed a hand on Draco's forehead, "You're burning up, Draco! Should we send for a healer?" He took another sip, and she gave him a look, grabbing the drink from his hands, "And you shouldn't be drinking like this!"

She was the only one who could say that to him without Draco yelling at her.

Groaning to himself, Draco gave up drinking for the night. He leaned back against his chair, his eyes wincing in pain from the searing knifing pain from his lungs. It didn't matter anyway - the drinking wasn't nearly enough. He needed Snape's strengthening potion – but he needed to see Granger more. But he was too proud. He had to stand his ground. He didn't need a Mudblood any more than he needed a glass of Firewhiskey. He threw his glass against the wall, sending the shards crashing all around him, just to prove to himself that he still had power over the curse – over the pain – and over the vow binding him to Granger.

Suddenly, as Narcissa was standing by him, they were accosted by someone he really did not want to meet – Mrs. Parkinson. She had emerged breathless from her foraging of wedding presents. Wearing a red pillbox hat with a large ostrich feather placed precariously on her head, Mrs. Parkinson looked gleeful, lurid estate jewelry festooning her red dress robes. Beaming at Draco, but not sharing Narcissa's worried look about his gaunt face, Mrs. Parkinson seemed to be in another world.

"Cissy," She simpered, holding up a silver spoon, "Is this goblin-made, would you say?"

As Narcissa nodded distractedly, Mrs. Parkinson discreetly slipped the spoon in her overflowing corset, and went back to the other room for more.

Stifling a laugh, Blaise leaned in to Draco, "You do know that woman's been stealing from you the entire night?" He chortled loudly, "Dunno why. Everything's going to be hers anyway in a fortnight."

Suddenly, Draco groaned, getting up, feeling sick.

"Draco darling, where are you going?" Blaise said in a high-pitched shrill, imitating Mrs. Parkinson.

Draco laughed despite himself at Blaise's voice, but it hurt him terribly. A sudden pain was shooting through him. He grunted, and his eyes widened in pain. He looked up at the glittering chandelier, and his eyes were watering. Draco slowly closed his eyes. He suddenly felt strangely ill. He barged into the nearest bathroom, splashing cold water on his face, feeling relieved for the first time that night. He looked up at the mirror, and saw his reflection looking gaunt and strained. His skin was chalky like a corpse, and his gray eyes were dark. He sighed deeply, staring down at the sink. He turned around, pushing the door and walked back to the sitting room.

He stepped over people who had passed out near the doors. Draco disgustedly saw people he had worked with in the Ministry - students he had studied with in Hogwarts - everyone dancing in a satanic excitement as if they were drugged. Draco was standing frozen near the fountain, his mind racing, taking in all the chaos. The pain was growing stronger, and it was taking all his strength to be himself. Draco blinked against the champagne falling from the ceiling that was drenching him, saying nothing, just letting himself suddenly become intensely aware of everything around him. He was so numb. He was numb. Numb to the world around him. Everything seemed so strange, his life as a Death Eater, his Slytherin upbringing, and everything he knew. He was cold, unfeeling, and nearly dead. And he was sure nothing could make him feel again.

Nothing … except …

Granger.

He laughed grimly, thinking how he had changed the last year all because of a stupid curse. It wasn't that he had to see her again because of the curse – he had to see her again because he needed her. He needed her infuriating arrogance – he needed her Gryffindor pride – he needed her desire to change the world, to save people, to save those that no one cared to save. He needed her beside him so he could further the Scorpion Order – so he could save those the thousands that were secretly sent to their deaths. He realized strangely that just as he thought about seeing her, the pain disappeared.

He sighed deeply, running his hand through his wet hair. Why did it feel like all his walls had come down? He felt like he was looking at his world through different eyes. It felt like … he had grown up. Suddenly, his pureblood pride and Slytherin prejudice seemed too narrow – too constricting. If he had to live with the curse, if he had to marry Granger … he couldn't live in this world anymore.

Suddenly, just as the clocks inside him aligned to some greater purpose, something strange happened.

There was a loud whizzing noise from outside the Manor. He turned his gray eyes to the large window, just as a sudden thunderous explosion of fireworks dazzlingly burst over the large pond, blinding him in flashes of bright green and shimmering purple and sparks and foggy hazes. The orchestra began playing a waltz in time to the glittering display, and the guests screamed in delight. The Manor was in chaos as the chandelier lights went down, and everyone crowded near the balconies, people shoving each other to get a better view. Pansy was calling for him, but she was too far away to see where he was. He was nearly lost in a sea of people.

He couldn't have asked for a more perfect time to escape.

He glanced up at the grand clock - it was nearly time for their meeting at the Hogs Head Inn. A sudden burst of anticipation flooded him as he thought of meeting Granger again. And he realized suddenly, that he couldn't feel the pain when he thought of seeing her. He felt himself growing stronger, his mind suddenly became sharper, as if every part of his body was urging him on. As if the curse had let him go.

He shoved through the crowd, moving quickly as his mind went into action. His thoughts clashed against the screaming fireworks outside and the gasping people around him as he made to leave.

Draco glanced for the last time at the lurid wastefulness behind him, the madness and the revelry, and the cacophony of satanic excitement of the drunken mob. They wouldn't even realize he was gone.

Quickly, he slipped into the shadows, closing himself into the empty family library. He could still hear the muted gleeful yelling of the crowded drawing room behind him.

He stood in front of the shelves of books and closed his eyes, whispering a strange incantation, while the air around him became electrically charged. The windows in the library were shining with the fireworks outside, the colors swirling around his resolute face. As he chanted, the shelves rearranged themselves into an arched doorway. Draco walked resolutely into the dark cavernous doorway, and as the archway closed behind him, he was suddenly shrouded in darkness.

"Illume," Draco whispered huskily. And suddenly, light exploded into the room, every torch in the bracket was lit, lighting ancient paintings, who quietly watched the young man sprinting by below them. The hallway was leading him into an ancient underground passage that connected the Manor to every wizarding place in England. Very soon, he would be standing under the Hogs Head Inn.

A sudden thrill exploded into every fiber of his being and he picked up the pace and, towards the end, he was almost running. A cool crisp air was blowing through the dark passage, and the breeze caught his hair, and he inhaled sharply. The passage ended facing a stone wall, which he adeptly traced with his fingers. The stones turned bright green, and flew open, revealing a stone pathway that was covered in creepers and vines. Thinking momentarily of Granger's flushed cheeks when she was angry, Draco looked determinedly at his path, a smile crossing his face.

He loosened his tie, dropping it uncaringly as he ran up the winding path, with a heady anticipation that set his every nerve on fire.

Author's Note: Next chapter is the meeting with Hermione ... and what will Snape see when he comes to the Hogs Head talk to Draco about the curse?