Whiskey Lullaby

She put him out, like the burning end of a midnight cigarette

She broke his heart. He spent his whole life trying to forget

We watched him drink his pain away, a little at a time

But he never could get drunk enough to get her off his mind

Until the night...

He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger

And finally drank away her memory

Life is short, but this time it was bigger

Then the strength he had to get up off his knees

We found him with his face down in the pillow

With a note that said "I'll love her till I die."

And when we buried him beneath the willow

The angels sang a whiskey lullaby.

~Braid Paisley- Whiskey Lullaby

Draco woke up from an uneasy sleep to find himself tangled in his silk sheets and covered in a cold sweat. He pushed a strand of his platinum blonde hair from his face and wiped his sweaty brow.

Another dream about her. Why the bloody hell wouldn't she keep away from his mind? She was there when he ate, when he slept, when he read, when he took walks. She never gave his mind peace.

But he didn't deserve peace. Not after what he did to her. He deserved to be miserable.

Sighing, Draco dragged himself out of bed and made his way to his dresser, getting some clean clothes for after his shower. He stripped of his clothes and stepped into the shower, welcoming the cold droplets of water beating down on his body.

The dream was always the same one. It recalled the day when his world came crashing down. The day when he brought her world crashing down, too.

It started out like it always did; the letter from his father, informing Draco he knew of everything. Of his secret trysts with the Mudblood Gryffindor, of his strange behavior, of his feelings for her. And then he gave Draco orders. Orders that made Draco's clammy hands shake and made his breath catch in his throat. The consequences were too great. He had to do this, and carefully, or his loved one would die.

And so he planned. He planned a way to end things between them. But he couldn't just break up with her; she would get suspicious. She wasn't Head Girl for nothing. He had to find a way to make her hate him, despise him, to make her think that he had never changed. He had to break her heart, and that knowledge broke his.

Finally, he devised a plan, but he needed help for it. Pansy. She infuriated the Gryffindor the most.

Draco had left his dorm then, looking for Pansy. It didn't take long to find her, and he told her to meet him at the back of the library at eight thirty-five. No sooner, no later. Draco knew his girlfriend cut out for the Gryffindor Tower at exactly eight thirty from her private library room. He knew because that was when he spent his time with her.

Since she was at the library so much, Madam Pince had given her a key to a private library room where she could work undisturbed. She had made a copy of the key for Draco so he could meet up with her there. It was their private room, and no one else had ever been in there since it became hers.

As he spent his last carefree minutes with her, he kissed her slowly and lovingly, putting in as much passion as he possessed for her. They had barely done ten minutes of studying, which she complained about. However, she enjoyed his attention far too much to stop him from giving it. Before she left, as was the ritual, she told him she loved him. In response, Draco pulled her in for one last kiss. It was a goodbye kiss; the last time he'd ever taste her. He'd miss her tentative kiss, and the way she played with his hair at the back of his neck. As Draco kissed her, he took her favorite quill from her book bag and slipped it into the sleeve of his robe. He knew that once she realized it was missing, she'd certainly come back for it.

True to her word, Pansy showed up at the back of the library at exactly eight thirty-five. Taking a deep breath, Draco knew it was time. He grabbed her hand, pulled her into the room and closed the door, placing a silencing charm on it. He cringed as Pansy touched his chest, leaning in to kiss him. She, however, didn't notice, and her lips pressed against his.

He felt awful. He couldn't believe he was doing this. But he had to, for her sake.

Bearing that thought in mind, Draco parted his lips at Pansy's request, allowing her tongue to explore the caverns of his mouth. Her kisses were nothing like his lover's. The kiss of his lover was shy, where Pansy's kiss was forceful. His lover's kiss was sweet, where Pansy's kiss was harsh. His lover's kiss was loving, where Pansy's kiss was lustful.

Trying not to think of her, Draco pulled off Pansy's robe and brought her down to the little couch with him. Pansy followed suit, running her fingers over his chest under his shirt. She lowered her hands to the hem of his shirt, pulling it up over his head to reveal a Quidditch-toned chest. She lowered her head to kiss, tease, lick, and nibble his chest, giving special attention to each of his nipples. She moved up to his neck, sucking slowly, and Draco cocked his head to the side to allow her more access.

He felt hollow. He received no pleasure from this; only pain. This was Pansy who was doing this to him, not the one he wanted. If that wasn't enough, the one who he did want would be back to see this in a few minutes. It would hurt her. Badly.

Draco swallowed heavily, and Pansy stopped what she was doing, looking up to Draco, asking him if anything was wrong.

"Nothing," Draco said. "It's nothing."

As if to reassure her, he leaned down and kissed her. Just as he had planned, the kiss wiped away her queries and she shivered in delight as he stripped her of her shirt.

"Strip for me," he told her huskily, not being able to touch her more then he had to. She mistook his rough voice for lust and stripped off her clothes, giving him quite a show.

Not knowing how much time he had until the Gryffindor would come, but knowing it couldn't be long now, Draco quickly shed all of his clothes and lay down on the couch.

Knowing what this meant, Pansy took a condom from her robe, which was lying on the floor and slipped it onto him. Smirking in a way he assumed she thought was sexy, Pansy kissed his neck once more before impaling herself on his manhood.

Listening to Pansy's loud moans as she moved up and down, Draco didn't make a sound. He just sat there, numb. Numb and waiting. It wouldn't be long now until she would arrive. She would walk in to see this, and it would break her. Draco hated himself for it. But mostly, he hated his father.

He stiffened as he heard approaching footsteps and he knew they were hers. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed Pansy's waist and started to guide her hips.

The door started to open, and Draco's breath caught in his throat. It was time. This was it.

He faked a groan of pleasure and closed his eyes as the door opened wide enough for someone to step in. Even though he knew it was, he prayed it wasn't her.

"Oh! I'm sorry," Draco heard her apologize. "I-I didn't mean to interrupt."

Pansy stopped her task and her head snapped up to the intruder.

"Granger?! What are you doing here, Mudblood?" she spat. Draco flinched.

"I- my quill- I think I left it- there it is," she stammered, spotting the quill on the table where Draco had left it, where she would catch a glimpse of him.

Hermione, who was sporting a very bright shade of red, made her way to the table and grabbed the quill. As she was about to apologize again, she spotted a head of platinum blonde hair. Hair that belonged to the body of Draco Malfoy.

"Draco?" she asked disbelievingly, voice barely above a whisper.

He said nothing, just stared at her expressionlessly.

"Draco?" Pansy repeated questioningly. "Since when is he 'Draco'?"

Hermione took no notice of Pansy and just stared at Draco, shocked. Her eyes were wide and brimming with tears as she repeated his name in a whisper.

"What's going on?" she asked him.

"Nothing, now that you've so rudely interrupted us. What does it look like?" Pansy snapped.

"How could you? I trusted you," Hermione whispered. "I loved you," she hissed, not minding Pansy.

Those last words tore Draco apart as a tear slipped down Hermione's cheek. She turned on her heel and ran from the room, but not before Draco noticed that she was shaking uncontrollably, much like he was inwardly, for Pansy was still here. No matter how many times he had imagined how the situation would play out, it still didn't prepare him for the gut wrenching guilt he felt.

"She loved you?" Pansy repeated, eyeing Draco. "What's going on? What was that about? And since when does she call you 'Draco' and not 'Malfoy'?"

Draco said nothing, but pulled Pansy up from him and pushed her away, gathering his clothes and dressing himself.

"Draco?" Pansy questioned, not moving from the couch as she watched him tug on his shirt.

Again, he ignored her, clasping his robe. Grabbing his bag, he left a naked Pansy in the room and exited the library.

I hope you're happy, father, Draco thought. You've just made me lose the only person I've ever loved.

And with that, he made his way to the Slytherin dorms.

Draco sighed again as he shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, toweling himself dry. How he hated his father. The man was vile and heartless.

He sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands. What would it take to forget her? What would it take to forget the way she looked at him, her eyes portraying no anger, just pain, hurt- betrayal. That hurt Draco so much.

Deciding a walk in the garden would do him well, he made his way through his big, cold mansion home outside. He took a deep breath of the summer air and smelled the mixed aroma of flowers.

Lavender. The smell of the flower reminded him of Hermione. Lavender was her favorite scent, and she always smelled of the sweet aroma.

White roses. Hermione's favorite flower. White signified purity. Innocence. Just like her.

Everything seemed to remind Draco of his former lover. How he wished to hold her in his arms again. If only he could. If only...

But, Draco wasn't in school anymore. Lucius surely wouldn't be able to keep such close tabs on him like he did before. Maybe he could talk to Hermione, and they could pick up where they left off. Maybe...

But Hermione deserved more than that. She deserved more than someone who had to keep her a secret, and couldn't hold her hand in public. She deserved so much more. So much more than Draco could give her.

He clenched his jaw in anger. Damn his father! Damn him to hell! How could he make Draco so miserable? Wasn't the biggest wish of a parent to see their child happy?

Maybe he should just go and see her. Maybe she would listen, and they could figure something out together.

But would she listen? Would she hear him out?

Yes, Draco answered himself promptly. Hermione is a very curious person. She'd hear me out.

But you hurt her so bad, another voice said. What would you do if you were her?

Draco paused, irritated, and ran his fingers through his hair again.

He had to see her. He had to try.

Nodding his head in determination, he called for his personal house elf.

"Biddy," he called out into the emptiness of the garden.

With a pop, a short, female house elf appeared in front of Draco, bowing.

"Yes, young Master Draco? What can Biddy do for master?" she squeaked.

"If mother or father questions where I've gone to, tell them I've went on a walk," he said briskly.

"Yes, sir. Is that being all, young Master Draco?"

"Yes, that'll be all." Thinking of what Hermione would say about how he treated his house elf, he added, "Thank you, Biddy."

Biddy's eyes brimmed with tears as she looked up at Draco.

"You is most certainly welcome, young Master Draco, you is most certainly welcome!" And with another bow, she disappeared.

Concentrating hard on his destination, Draco apparated in an alley not too far from Hermione's house. He looked around to make sure no Muggles saw him, and when he was sure none had, he made his way to her house, muttering under his breath what he would say to her.

"Hermione, I never wanted to break up with you. It was my father, I had to. No, no, I've got to get her to talk to me first. Hermione, please understand what... Oh, for Merlin's sake," he sighed, finding himself in front of her door.

Taking a deep breath and gathering his courage, he knocked on the door, hoping she was home.

He heard footsteps on the other side of the door and saw the knob turn, opening the door.

"Oh Hermione, thank-"

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Hermione asked coldly.

"I came to talk to you. I wanted-"

"Now you want to talk? After what you did? Not a chance in hell, Malfoy." She tried to close the door, but Draco's foot blocked its progress.

"Hermione, please. I'm sorry. But you've got to understand-"

"I understand perfectly, Malfoy. I was nothing but a game to you. You never loved me. It was all a lie. You weren't getting it from me, so you got it from Parkinson, of all people!" Hermione said, and her tone was hurt.

"No, Hermione, that's not it," Draco tried again. "That's not it at all."

"Malfoy, please. Don't do this. Don't insult me with your lies any more. I've had enough of them. You can go and have a good laugh with your mates now, because you've won. I love you. Loved," she corrected herself.

"Hermione-"

"That isn't enough? Okay, I'll give you more. I lied to all of my friends, making up excuses for what I was doing when I was with you. I've never lied to my friends until you. I actually trusted you. I thought you'd changed. Hogwarts smartest witch, Head Girl Hermione Granger, fell for your lies and your charms. I actually fell in love with you, and allowed you to break me. But I'm done, Draco," she said, tired. "I'm done. Please don't try to contact me anymore."

And just like that, she closed the door in his face, leaving him staring dejectedly at the door.

So that was it. He didn't get to tell her anything, and she didn't want to hear from him again.

That was it.

He broke her, she said. He messed up any chance they had of being together in the future. Maybe he should have told her about the letter with his father's orders the day he got it. If he had, maybe he'd be with her right now, laughing over something silly as she lay in his arms.

But no. If he had shown her that letter, she would have wanted him to go to Dumbledore or something. That old kook wouldn't have been able to do anything to help him. And then Hermione's life would have been in danger. It's better for her to be alive and hating him than dead.

But oh, how he wished he could hold her again. He wished he could even study with her again. He loved the way her eyebrows furrowed when she came across a difficult question, and they way she bit her lip and smiled once she figured it out. He missed her quirky ways.

Draco kicked a bottle cap down the street sadly as he sighed.

His father. He wished he could just kill the man. Maybe if he was out of the way, he could get Hermione to listen to him. Then he wouldn't have to hide their relationship. They could go shopping, and he could lavish her in gifts and clothes.

Stop it, Draco, he told himself. You're only teasing yourself with what you can never have.

He hated himself. He hated that the deadened look in Hermione's eyes was his fault. He hated that he caused her so much pain. His life was nothing without her.

All for a Mudblood, Draco? My, my, I thought you knew better. You are a disgrace to the Malfoy name, boy, Lucius's voice rang through his head.

No, father, the Malfoy name is a disgrace to me. I'm not the cold, heartless son that you want me to be. I feel, father, and I feel hurt, Draco thought to the voice of his father.

Emotions are a weakness, boy!

No. Trying to be emotionless is weak. You are weak.

You know nothing of what you talk about.

You're wrong, father. You were always wrong. It takes a strong person to deal with hurt, pain, and love. Blocking that out is a form of cowardice. You are a coward, father. A weak coward. You've never felt any emotions other than those of a Death Eater. You've never felt love or compassion. I pity you, father. I pity you.

Draco ignored any further thoughts of his father and apparated back to his garden, right by the white roses. He picked a single one and brought it up to his room.

"Biddy, bring me a thin vase, please," he ordered to his vacant room, fingering the soft, white petals.

Biddy popped into the room with Draco's vase, which was tall and thin - a good size for the rose. Draco placed the rose delicately in the vase, thinking of Hermione.

"You may go. Thank you," he said to Biddy, who nodded happily and bowed before scurrying out of the room.

Draco remembered the day he met with her, when everything changed. She was alone by the garden, looking at all the flowers. He thought she looked so beautiful there like that. He couldn't resist walking over to her and asking her what she was doing. She answered politely, no trace of disgust in her voice, even though he was her enemy. They sat there talking like old friends. He asked her what her favorite flower was. "Roses. White roses." She was sitting right next to a patch of them, and Draco plucked one. With a simple charm, he cut off the stem, leaving only a little stub on the flower. He pushed her hair behind her ear and tucked the flower there. Oh, she had looked so beautiful. That's when he started to fall in love with her.

Coming back to reality, Draco quickly spun around and punched a wall with an angered cry. Why did letting go have to be so hard? He needed to get her out of his mind, or he'd surely go crazy.

An idea popped into his head as he remembered his private stash. Why he didn't think of it sooner, he didn't know.

Placing a silencing and locking charm on the room- just in case- Draco made his way to his school trunk. Unlocking it and rummaging around, he finally found what he was looking for.

He unscrewed the cap and put the bottle to his lips, feeling the slight burning of the Fire Whiskey making its way down his throat.

This was it. This was the way to forget all about her. He'd finally found the answer.

Without stopping his drinking, Draco plopped himself onto his bed and looked at the white rose.

"To you, Hermione, a toast. May you live in happiness," he said, lifting the bottle to the flower before downing some more.

The whiskey began to take effect, and Draco found that the room was moving a bit. He smiled goofily and took another swig.

This is good stuff, he thought. Just a little more, and she'll be gone for a while.

But he was wrong. More than half of the bottle was gone, but her picture was still vividly burned into his mind. She wouldn't be leaving any time soon.

But Draco was stubborn, and he kept on drinking. He'd get her out of his mind, if it was the last thing he did.

Little did he know at the time, he meant that literally.

Slowly, Draco drifted off. The bottle rested on the floor by his bed, hardly any whiskey left.

*****

When Draco woke up the next morning, it was to a huge headache from the whiskey he drank. He clutched his head in pain and realized that he was shaking.

Groping blindly for the bottle he'd left there yesterday, Draco found it and downed it in one shot. He needed more, and quick.

"Bid-dee," Draco called.

"Yes, young Master Draco?" Biddy asked once she appeared. "Young Master Draco, is you all right?"

"I'm fine. Get me some Fire Whiskey from father's personal stores. Bring up as many as you can carry," he slurred.

"But young-"

"Do it!" he yelled.

Biddy flinched, but went to do as she was told. When she returned, she was carrying six bottles of Fire Whiskey and having a spot of trouble. Draco staggered his way over to her and helped her with the load. Five bottles were put away into his trunk, and one was left out.

"Biddy, do me a favor and-" he stumbled and Biddy caught his arm, balancing him, "-and don't tell mother or father about this. And keep them away from my room."

"Young Master Draco, you forget they left. They has went to Paris for a week, they has."

"Oh. Tha's- tha's right," he said. He clapped a hand heavily on Biddy's shoulder, making her wince a bit. "Well, thank you, Biddy. You can be leaving now, and don't interrupt me."

Biddy paused before leaving. She looked fearful of speaking when her Master told her to leave, but she gathered her courage and spoke, playing nervously with her clothing; a filthy pillowcase.

"Young Master Draco, is you sure you is okay? You is not looking so good to Biddy."

"Biddy, I'll be fine. Now go," Draco ordered, finding her concern comforting yet irritating since he had a bottle of whiskey waiting for him.

Biddy swallowed heavily and nodded before leaving the room.

Draco exhaled loudly and opened the new bottle. His parents weren't home, and he had bottles upon bottles of alcohol to consume from Lucius's personal stores for the week they'd be gone. He was thankful.

And so that's how things went for the entire week. Draco drank and drank and drank till there were no more bottles of whiskey left except for one. It said a lot, since his father had numerous amounts of bottles stacked away for when they held balls. No more. Just one.

Draco looked at the untouched whiskey and knew what he had to do. It was the only way.

His head was oddly clear as he made his way to his mahogany desk, taking out ink, a quill, and some parchment from the drawer.

He pulled out the chair and sat down, and began to write a letter. He found that his vision was blurry, although not from the whiskey. It was from tears. As Draco signed his name at the bottom of the parchment, a teardrop fell on a word, making the ink run, although it was still readable.

Thankful that his bed was so close to the desk, Draco pulled himself out of the chair and onto the bed. He took off the cap to the bottle and started to drink as much as he could as the tears ran down his face.

Slowly, he felt himself slipping away. The bottle of whiskey fell from his hands and shattered into pieces as it fell to the floor. He clutched the desk next to him as the room began to spin quickly. His hand made contact with the vase, and that too, broke. The rose fell neatly on top of the letter as Draco's grip loosened.

He lay down on the bed, knowing it was all over now. It was done. He was done. Before he closed his eyes, he used his final breath to speak four last words.

"I love you, Hermione."

And he was gone.

Hermione,

Please know that I never meant to hurt you. But I couldn't let my father hurt you, either. I did what I did with Pansy to make you hate me so Father wouldn't kill you as he threatened. I'm telling you this not to make you sad, but in hopes that you will forgive me. Please, forgive me. And remember this, Hermione. I'll love you till I die.

Always and forever,

Draco Malfoy

And on a word was a small water mark. The ink was blotchy but it could still be read.

Forever.