On the bright side, he could be killed tomorrow, with the missions he did. Draco snagged a bottle of cheap Muggle whiskey from the liquor cabinet and headed down to the cellar. Yes, he decided with a self-deprecating smirk; there was always the hope of a – preferably – quick and marginally heroic death. For now though, Draco was going to get sodding fall-down, blackout drunk.