But it wasn't just a party, Draco didn't care about missing a stupid party, he cared about missing it because he had no choice. Life and death started to blur together as he felt his life being stolen from him in tiny increments, each choice taken took a little more from his reasons to want to live through this war. He let out a breath and simply nodded at Theo before he slammed his door behind him. He walked straight to his bathroom where an antique clawfoot tub sat below a large bay window. He searched the room for something, anything and approached the brass towel rail, long, thin and solid metal. A sad smirk crossed his face as he ripped it from the wall with his bare hands, clumps of plaster and drywall fell to the marble tiles beneath. He was hyper-focused, the rage inside him fueled his steps as he stalked the porcelain tub. He lifted the rail above his head like a snake poised to strike as he stared down at his enemy. He was sick and tired of being weak, helpless and above all else he was sick of not being able to fight back. This was it, the last time he would allow Voldemort to take away his right to choose. Draco would put his brain to good use for once and start devising a plan because this was not how he wanted to live and he was finally ready to die fighting for what he did want.