Author's Note: This chapter contains one of three or four scenes centered around Draco and Alana. Draco hardly appears in this story, which is sad, because he's an incredibly important influence on Alana's life. But for some reason, he just doesn't pop up much in Alana's explanations. I have a very definite view of Draco's character- the elegant, intelligent, cunning, ambitious, sophisticated, aristocrat view- you know, the side that Harry never sees because Harry's a biased narrator. So in the few scenes where he appears, I indulged myself and let him get away with not being very canonical. I apologize for his OOC-ishness, but I hope you enjoy it!

I dedicate this chapter to my dear friend Liz, because she loves Draco just as much, if not more so, than I do. Liz, I hope your head explodes into candy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Draco Malfoy (JKR refused to sell him to me). I don't even really own this take on him; I was heavily influenced by this incredible story on skyehawke, by Layha Siderea, called The Readiness Is All, and I'm furious that it's discontinued, because it's the most fascinating study of Draco's character I think I've ever seen. Not to mention that it melds Draco with Hamlet, and I think that's brilliant.

Falling in love with you was quite possibly the best thing that ever happened to me, Harry. I felt like the best possible version of myself around you, and at the same time I wanted to improve myself until I felt I was worthy of the gift you offered me. I haven't felt like that with any person before or since, and that is how I know with such certainty that what I felt for you was real, and true, and completely honest. To have felt it more than once would have cheapened it, and if it was cheap then it wasn't worth having in the first place.

But loving you, I have to admit, wasn't all sunshine and roses.

Falling for you complicated everything, threw another set of rules into a life already guided by three codes of conduct- the Dark Lord's, my family's, and my own. Suddenly I was juggling more roles and expectations than I could handle. And- forgive me for saying this, for awakening these memories, but it's true- the worst of these complications turned out to be with Draco.

Like I said, I'm sorry to bring it up. But I promised to tell you the truth. And the truth is, I loved Draco. He was my first and best friend, and the only one in that other world, besides Blaise and Emily, who took care of me and protected me. Were it not for Draco, I would not have been alive five years ago.

Draco and I had been bred to be together; he had been bred to be the Keeper of the Wishgiver. Besides the fact that it was the 'request' of the Dark Lord, it was a shrewd political match within the world of the Death Eaters. Our marriage would combine the fortunes of the two richest clans in the Dark Lord's circle, bring immense power to our families.

Every aspect of my life with Draco had been planned out on the day of our formal betrothal, when we were seven years old. We would be officially engaged when we turned 17, wed and branded after we graduated from Hogwarts. We would live in a mansion in Kent. Draco would work in the Ministry, and as a Governor of Hogwarts, as had his father; I would be a trophy wife.

Everything was planned. But you… You I didn't count on. I didn't plan on falling in love with you. And in the end, that love is what damned you. I cared too much about you to do my mission, and that is why you were betrayed.

I know you won't believe this, but I did try to save you. I tried so hard. The thought that I had failed haunted me for years.

That failure changed me. The knowledge of your death broke my heart. And with my heart broken, my magic hardly worked at all.

That caused my second failure.

September 26, 2008

The ring of six Death Eaters prowled the perimeter of the property silently, looking for spells of protection that their enemies might have cast.

Blaise Zabini glanced at his companions. Antonin Dolohov was intent on his job, muttering every counter-spell he knew. Bellatrix Lestrange walked confidently, almost arrogant in her unconcern. Blaise's bride Emily, walked ahead, masking her apprehension under a wall of gravity. Draco Malfoy ran an agitated hand through his hair, keeping a close and watchful eye on his wife, who had given birth only this month, but who had already been put back to work by the Dark Lord. Alana Montblanc Malfoy, the Dark Lord's Star, the leader of this group, stood still, just watching the house that they were to attack.

"It's strange, isn't it?" she asked, so only Blaise, Emily and Draco could hear. "McGonagall taught all of us. And now… it's like we're being sent to kill our own aunt. And Moody and Shacklebolt… I worked with them. I helped them kill Death Eaters. It feels so wrong to kill them."

"The Dark Lord ordered it," Emily said hopelessly. "You know what he says. 'Love is a foolish mortal emotion that will be your downfall'."

Alana nodded silently. She'd learned that axiom the hard way. She'd loved Harry, and look how that had ended up. No one could afford to feel love, but especially not one like her. Not when the Dark Lord could use her to destroy everything and everyone she had ever loved.

Shaking herself free of her thoughts, she signaled to her companions, and they advanced on the house.

They crossed the lawn silently. Bellatrix had just put her hand on the doorknob-

When a jet of red light streaked out an upper-story window and hit her dead-on. Bellatrix screamed as the Sectusempra spell ripped her chest open.

The next moments were a confusing blur of screams and jets of light. Suddenly, Alana was tackled to the ground, and bound and gagged before she had time to react. She looked up at her captor, then stared into the face of Severus Snape.

He sighed heavily. "Madam Malfoy. I see you were unable to overcome your destiny after all."
"I tried to," she replied softly. "All that happened was that I betrayed everyone and everything. Now I know better. You can't outrun your fate."

Snape nodded, but Alana saw the disappointment in his eyes. He was just the latest in a long list of people who had been let down by Alana Sinclair Montblanc. She didn't enjoy the knowledge that she had disappointed her former Head of House. But what could she do? Resisting her fate had brought tragedy and calamity down upon her. All she could do was embrace her dark destiny, and pray that her surrender would dull the pain.

As Snape brought her into the living room, a new mask fell over Alana's face to replace her Death Eater mask. It was a more grotesque mask, for it was her own face. It was a mask devoid of all sorrow, all remorse, of any emotion at all. It was the face that had belonged to the girl they called the Princess of Slytherin.

Alastor Moody clunked into the room, leaning heavily on his cane. "They're all dead," he reported grimly. "Cept for Bellatrix, she must've Apparated away, coz we can't find her."

The last bit of emotion in Alana died, and she was glad that no one could hear the sound of her heart breaking and being covered in ice. Blaise… Emily… Draco… She had died with them. She had lost it all.

Or so she thought.

When I'd gotten a little healthier, I started bargaining- okay, arguing- with Ron and Hermione about going to the cemetery to sit by Draco's grave.

I needed the closure. I hadn't been permitted to attend Draco's funeral- something for which I still haven't, and will never, forgiven of the Wizengamot. And, of course, I still hadn't come to terms with your death. I was almost obsessed with the idea of going to the cemetery, to sit quietly with your ghosts and remember.

Ron and Hermione objected. It wasn't safe, they said; I could be kidnapped, or compromised. Why they really meant was that they didn't trust me not to return to the Dark Lord and my old life. I understood that.

But that doesn't mean that I obeyed them.

May 06, 2013

Alana had never been one to lounge around in bed. Even in Azkaban, she had forced herself to get up at a certain time every morning, to adhere to some sort of schedule. The routine had been soothing, and a way to retain some vestige of sanity.

Gently massaging her strained, sore eyes, Alana got up and walked into the bathroom for a quick, cool shower. She walked into her room and pulled on the first things she grabbed out of the armoire- some ratty old jeans and a band t-shirt of Harry's. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and gave a sad, tired excuse for a laugh; who knew that she, Lady Montblanc, could- or would- look so sloppy? She hadn't looked like this since she was pregnant with James…

She winced at the thought and sighed. Much though she didn't want to be reminded of her past, of the life that had been a lie, of the man she had betrayed and the sons who had been taken from her, this house was full to the brim with those memories and reminders. She was forced to remember, and sometimes the good memories were more painful than the bad.

"This place is worse than the dementors," Alana muttered.

In an attempt to hold the memories at bay for a time, she walked down into the kitchen, where Ron and Hermione were eating breakfast.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked, sitting at the table.
Ron glanced at Alana darkly, but shrugged and said, "It's your house."
"What?" Alana asked, startled.
Hermione sighed. "In his will, Harry left the house and everything in it to you and James."
"But… I thought that he gave the house to the Order when he inherited it?" Alana asked, looking at Hermione questioningly.
"Well, he did," Hermione admitted. "But Dumbledore refused to take ownership from Harry. We still meet here, but we don't own the house. You do."

So much for hiding from the memories.

Despite the pain, Alana was unexpectedly grateful to Harry. This house had been her true home, and though she doubted she would be able to stay here, she was comforted that she had the option.

Alana sighed, knowing now that there was one place she needed to visit. Even though she really didn't want to disturb those memories, wasn't sure if she was strong enough to face those reminders.

"I know that face," Ron said. "Whatever it is, Alana, the answer is no. Just no."
"Nice," Alana muttered, rolling her eyes. "I just want to visit the cemetery for an hour, Ron."
Ron shook his head. "We can't let you out, Alana. It's not safe."
Alana's eyes narrowed. "Not even to visit my husband's grave?"
"Sorry, no," he shrugged.

Alana muttered to herself as she walked away. She'd never meekly taken orders from anyone. And she didn't intend to start now.

"Sorry, Ron," she muttered. "I won't be gone long."

With that, the stubborn woman Disapparated.

She stopped a moment to pluck a single white rose that grew beside the gate to the cemetery. Then she drew a deep breath and pushed open the gate of Summerland Cemetery. She walked between the rows, not sure where the headstone was, until she was stopped by a plump, kind-looking witch.

"Can I help you, dear?" she asked.
"Draco Malfoy's grave, please," Alana requested.

The witch's face blanched as the name of the infamous Death Eater left Alana's lips, but she pointed out the headstone before scuttling off as quickly as she could waddle. Alana shook her head and walked slowly towards the grave. She stood before it for a moment, just looking at it. It was a simple headstone of black marble. Elegant, simple, no fuss- just as he had been. Bracing herself against the tears, she looked at the words carved into the stones.

Draco Lucius Malfoy
June 5, 1988- September 26, 2008
Son of Lucius and Narcissa
Husband of Alana
Father of James and Julian
Friend of many, missed much

Alana lowered herself to her knees and fingered the lettering on the headstone. She bowed her head, looking at the grass under which her husband was buried.

"Hey Drake," she whispered. "It's Lala. I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to get here. They… they wouldn't let me come."

Tears filled her eyes as she knelt there, tears which she impatiently wiped away. She had been left to remain here alone. Her husband and her best friend had been taken from her, and she'd never gotten to say goodbye.

"They tried to so hard to keep us apart, after you died," she said, cursing herself for being so emotionally weak as to cry once again. "Just like the Death Eaters did when you were alive. It's strange, isn't it? They wanted us to be married, but they didn't want us to fall in love. They didn't want us to get involved, in case it screwed up our damned missions."

Alana closed her eyes, allowing memories of her handsome, elegant husband to dominate her mind.

July 30, 2004

It was almost midnight, but the party at Monticrief Manor showed no signs of slowing down. Indeed, it had yet to truly begin. The festivities would really start at midnight, when Lucius Malfoy and Hugh Montblanc would announce the formal engagement of their sixteen-year-old children, and the plan to wed them when they graduated Hogwarts.

It was considered ironically hilarious that these paragons of the Death Eater world would be engaged on the birthday of their greatest nemesis. Especially when one considered what the Dark Lord had ordered the bride-to-be to do concerning Harry Potter.

It was a momentous occasion, the union of the two scions of the most powerful families of Death Eaters in the Dark Lord's army. The Malfoys were infamous for being among the most dark witches and wizards in the world- their library of all topics of dark magic was legendary. The Sinclair-Montblanc clan was the financial backbone for the entire Death Eater organization. The union of Draco and Alana would bring the two families even more power and influence.

But the two guests of honor were currently missing.

Alana stood on the balcony of the large ballroom on the third floor, directly above the dining room where the guests were gathered. She had been surrounded by people all day long; she needed a few moments alone to process what was happening. She closed her eyes and breathed in the cool night air, attempting to think of nothing at all.

Draco walked with a languid grace across the floor of the ballroom, his eyes on his future bride. Her black hair had been pulled back in a half-ponytail, her curls tied back with a green ribbon. She was garbed in a slinky floor-length gown of black and Slytherin green, colors which perfectly set off her pale skin and catlike jade eyes. He had been watching her all night- she had never looked so beautiful.

The impending marriage was difficult for Draco to understand and deal with. Not because the idea of marrying Alana was repugnant to him; rather because he found he wanted it. Needed it, even. He had grown incredibly attached to her, and that was very, very dangerous.

He knew he should remain reserved, that they should continue their skillful charade of being the Prince and Princess of Slytherin- absolute partners, but absolutely nothing between them other than a calculated alliance. But he found that the more time went on, the more difficult it became for him to continue the act. In fact, Draco had found that he was very close to losing control of his emotions when it came to her, and for a Death Eater and a Malfoy that simply would not do.

Girls had always been a commodity to Draco, almost on a par with any of his other possessions. Easily had, easily discarded. But he could never think of Alana as a possession; she had become, in the sixteen years he'd known her, his greatest treasure. So though he didn't understand why he needed her so, couldn't afford to let the world see how he truly felt about her, there was no way in hell that he would let her slip away.

"They're looking for you, you know."

Alana whirled around as Draco's voice broke the stillness, though she relaxed when she saw who it was.

"It's almost midnight, Lala," he continued as he walked towards her. "Almost show time."
Alana nodded. "I'll go inside in a minute, Drake," she replied.

The use of their childhood nicknames was comforting to the both of them. It allowed them to momentarily forget who their parents wanted them to be, to remove the burden of being "the rising stars of the next generation" from their shoulders. They could pretend, if only for a moment, that they were only children again, innocent and carefree. No longer Master Malfoy and Lady Montblanc; just Drake and Lala.

For a moment, they just stood there shoulder to shoulder, their forearms resting on the banister, as they looked out over the magnificent gardens for which Monticrief Manor (home of Alana's grandmother Camilla) was famous.

"Do you ever wish our lives were different?" Alana asked softly. "That we hadn't been born into our families, that we were free to choose our own paths?"
"Sometimes," Draco nodded. "But…" He looked down at his hands, fumbling for words to express the sentiments he'd been taught not to feel. "But I'd still marry you."

Alana looked up at him, feeling as if she was standing on a high precipice. One more word from Draco would send her tumbling into a dark and dangerous abyss, but she found she didn't want him to stop.

They looked at each other, unable to break the gaze. Slowly, hesitantly, he placed his lips on hers, sealing the contract and the bond between them far more powerfully than anything the Dark Lord could cook up.

For this moment, it didn't matter that they were pawns, being used by a psychotic master to achieve a diabolical goal. The war, the Death Eater society into which they'd been born and of which they were the direct heirs, rules and regulations… it all went away, and none of it mattered. In that moment, it was enough for them to simply be in love. And they embraced that moment wholeheartedly, with no thought of anything else.

Alana opened her eyes, sighing. She missed Draco. She'd never gotten to say goodbye. But perhaps she should have expected it; she had never been able to say goodbye to the ones she loved.

The ones she loved…

Alana sighed again as her thoughts turned to the other man she had loved and lost. The man she couldn't leave in her past, but rather carried with her through to the present.

She sat there silently, surrounded by isolation, memories, and the ghosts of the two lives, the two pieces of herself, that were gone forever.