Chilled Legacy

Chilled Legacy XVI: The Ball Part 2

A/N: I apologize in advance for how weird this chapter is. I honestly don't know what goes on in my brain, but this is what came out of it and...
Anyway here's the chapter. 
P.S: I changed the tittle of the last chapter but the content is still the same. 

Chilled Legacy XVI

"Draco Malfoy?" she blinked, trying to tear her eyes away from his. Draco let her momentarily so the conversation could continue.

Taking a deep breath, he spoke, the effects of the potion pouring out of his voice. "Yes, it's me professor."

His voice was his, but it might as well not have been. McGonagall unconsciously resisted the effects, her head looking elsewhere to find another teacher. "We must find your parent's," she said doubtfully.
His teacher was strong. She held her duties as headmistress and protector of the students to a higher standard than most. Even though she never particularly liked Draco, she'd been quick to come to his aid.
The Draco created from the potion decided it would take more than just talking.

"No," Draco said, meeting her gaze again. "We shouldn't."

What was he up to?

Astoria was still back at the snack table chatting with the trio. Draco wanted to go back and fight the effects, but as of yet, he didn't have a good enough reason. It was much easier to let the potion do its thing and wait for it to wear off. Trying to control his body and voice drained too much out of him, making the distinction between the new Draco and himself more blurred.
Maybe he was a string puppet, but so far he'd been a happy one. Blaise and Pansy couldn't recognize him, no one had sent a single glare his way, and everyone he encountered was left mesmerized by his company.

Still, Luna and Neville had been right—Astoria wasn't pleased with this new him. Draco settled for explaining it to her later. It was, after all, just for the ball.

He let himself be consumed by the potion once again, instantly drowning a wave of both peace and energy. When he saw the last traces of resistance leave her face, replaced by a startling, bubbly party smile, Draco spoke again. "These decorations turned out lovely. I can't imagine the trouble you must've went through to get this party together."

McGonagall looked around, as if seeing the shining lights for the first time. "It's good to give the students something to look forward to after what they've been through the last couple of month."

"Indeed! If only it weren't about to end so soon," he heard his voice say, watching her smile falter. "No band."

Draco's mind began to turn, putting the pieces of the plan together. He'd left Astoria when the party had begun to die. It as an involuntary movement which he still regretted. This was supposed to be their night, but the potion deemed the party's death more important.

Something snapped together in his brain and he saw Not-Draco's puzzle plan complete.

No!

The wave of peace washed away and Draco fought for control, twisting and turning, but only managing to make Not-Draco's fingers twitch in response.

The effects were strong, but not strong enough for his common sense to fully leave him. All he could imagine was himself—blond, blue-eyed, and mask-less—attempting to wrestle this dark-haired, purple-eyed, perfect party freak he created.
He had to win. There was no way that the potion was so strong as for him to lose his self-will. The real him would never—

"I could be your band."

If it were possible to suffocate while breathing, the real Draco was doing it. Every inch of him attempted to fight the potion, but Not-Draco had him pinned to the wall, snuffing out the air from his lungs. He had to keep the party alive. That was his mission and he would do anything to complete it.