A/N: Hello! If anyone is following my other story, All My Friends are Heathens, I am still writing it! I have not abandoned it! You just will not believe my horrible luck! My laptop broke so I was saving up for a new one and then our puppy needed emergency surgery. So, it has taken me a bit longer then I had hoped to get a computer back! I finally have one, but have reworked my next chapter in All My Friends are Heathens so much that I needed to step away from it for a second so I can refocus. I will then relook at it and then upload it! I am so sorry for the delay!

I am not planning on this being a one-shot, but if you feel it is better as a one-shot, let me know in the comments! This is my second fanfiction I have uploaded, so please help me become a better writer! If you have any comments, good or bad, please leave them for me to read. Please be constructive and helpful, not mean.

This story is going to do a lot of jumping from the past to the present. Ultimately, this first chapter starts about two years after the battle of Hogwarts, but the main storyline is set seven years post battle. Please let me know if it gets confusing. I really hope you enjoy the story!

Draco cursed at himself as he woke up with the image of her face burned into his eyes. He sat up quickly in the bed and rubbed his hands over his face. It was like this every single night, every single day, every single moment. He knew he was going crazy. This wretched witch was going to kill him. He got up from the bed and made his way through the bedroom. He could tell by the lack of light that spilled through the windows that it was still very early in the morning. He should try to go back to bed but his dreams were just filled with her, filled with things she used to say, filled with things that they used to do together. They weren't together anymore and he didn't need the reminders.

Everything reminded him of what happened. Literally every fucking thing could somehow be linked to that infuriating women. When was it that his life become so involved around her, so wrapped up and entangled in hers? How could he ever forget how much she means to him? How could he ever forget her?

Draco made his way to the bathroom and turned on the water. He got in the shower and instantly regretted it. Her shampoo bottles were lined along the shelves and her body wash sat in the same spot it always did, unused. He started banging his fist on the wall. How many times had he washed her crazy hair in that very shower? Washed her glorious body? How many times had he fucked her in this very shower? How many times had she washed him, ran her hands along his body? He almost cried out when the memories assaulted his mind. It was too much for him. He needed to move, he needed to get away from all of the reminders, but he knew it wouldn't matter. He would never forget her.

The water beat down his back and washed away the blood from his knuckles. He wondered what it would feel like to drown. How would it feel to fill up his lungs with water instead of air? Would it be heavy? Draco already felt heavy, he already felt like he was drowning, drowning in his heart ache, in his own emotions.

This was the very reason his parents told him to guard his emotions. He had been trained from a young age to never show his feelings and he had grown to be rather good at it, until her. It all revolved around her. She was the first person to break down his walls. The first person to actually care about what he was feeling. The first person to make him feel like he was actually living and not just coasting through life. He had been free and happy when he was with her. Her love warmed his soul like the rays of the golden sun, they had colored his grey, dreary life and turned everything into vibrant colors. Her love of life was contagious and he had finally had a reason to live, he finally had a purpose in life, her. It all revolved around her. His heart had hurt from how much he had loved her, but now he was numb again. No, that's not true, he wasn't numb, his whole body just hurt. Every single thing was a painful memory of what they used to be. This was why his parents had told him to never fall in love, to never let someone hold that much power over him. But he did and now he was wishing for his nightmares of Voldemort over the vivid dreams of her. His parent may not have been right about much but they were right about this. She had destroyed him and all it took was a simple note. A simple goodbye and his glimpse of happiness was gone and now there was only pain. Pain was his constant companion and the irony was not lost on Draco. Pain was all he deserved. She had convinced him that he deserved more. That he could be forgiven for everything that he had done, that he deserved happiness, but here he was consumed by pain. He had always known that this was how his life was meant to be.

He stood in the downpour a little longer before shutting off the water and getting out. Not even bothering to grab a towel, water puddling at his feet and leaving a trail behind him as he made his way into the bedroom. He quickly grabbed sweatpants and whatever shirt he could find and made his way downstairs.

A house elf quickly appeared when he made his way to the kitchen.

"Anything I can get you mastah?"

Draco ignored the house elf and went straight to the liquor cabinet. He grabbed a handle of fire whiskey and a glass tumbler. Now, having everything that he needed for his perfect morning, he quickly made his way towards the fireplace. He could see her there, reading in the chair he was heading towards. He could see her there napping on the couch. He could see them having dinner by the fireplace, laughing at each other. He could feel the heat on her skin as they cuddled by the fire. He could see the way the flames danced on her skin as he worshipped her body on the very rug he was standing on. He threw his glass against the fireplace, shattering the glass.

He made his way towards the cursed chair, not caring how the smashed glass bit into his feet, probably causing him to bleed. He threw off the stopper to the fire whiskey and quickly threw the contents down his throat. The burn was a welcome distraction, if only momentary. He slouched against the chair, he was getting drunker with ever sip he took but it still wasn't enough. He could still remember every moment. He could still remember the last words she said to him. The last look she gave him.

His heart constricted in pain from the hurt. He was hoping this heart ache would kill him soon. It would make everything better. He had considered all the ways that he could kill himself, but he knew that he wouldn't be man enough to do it, just like how he wasn't man enough for her.

He tipped back the bottle and smashed it against the ground when he realized that it was empty.

"Another!" He shouted. A new bottle quickly appeared next to him and he wasted no time getting to work on emptying that bottle.

Soon he started to see her. This is how he knew he was sloshed. He always saw her, an image of her with her disapproving face. It was almost like she was with him again.

"Draco, stop this," she would say to him, "you can't do this, this isn't you. Please stop, you're breaking my heart."

"This is your fault," he would scream back at her, "You broke my heart, I don't care if I break yours. This is what you have reduced me too, this is what you've made me. You've always wanted to mold me into someone better, love, and this is what you've turned me into, a shadow of a man."

"Please stop," she would beg him, as tears adorned her face. The image always made Draco want to reach out and comfort her. He didn't like to see her cry, it almost hurt more than the heartache, even if it was all in his head. Even if it wasn't real.

Her tears had always had that effect on him. Anytime her eyes started to shimmer with tears he had wanted to move the moon and the earth for him. Anytime a tear made a path down her face he had wanted to kill whoever had caused her pain. He had learned early on that he had no strength against her tears, he would give her anything she wanted if the tiny droplets were falling from her eyes. If he was being honest with himself, he didn't have any strength against her when she wasn't crying.

"When you were mine, I would have done anything to make you happy. I would have done anything that you asked of me. You don't get to ask me to stop now. This is the only way, that only way that I get to see you again."

This would only cause her to cry harder and Draco could do nothing but watch her. He would stare at her as she sobbed into her hands, as she begged him to stop, as she told him how he was so much more than this, as she told him she loved him. Those words always brought Draco back. She didn't love him, if she did she would be here and he wouldn't have to drink himself into oblivion just to see her again.

He would then drink some more, trying to forget everything, her, the war, and even who he was. Eventually, if he was lucky, he would pass out. When he woke up it was the same. Rinse, lather, repeat. He was sure he was drinking away the Malfoy Fortune but he didn't care. No one could say he hadn't done his part in supporting the economy since he was positive, he was single handedly supporting the liquor business.

Sooner or later, a house elf would try to get him to eat. He could usually manage a few bites before he wasn't interested anymore. He knew he was dying. He was slowly starving himself but he didn't care. He couldn't eat, it held no appeal for him. Nothing did, not anymore, not since she left his side. He could feel himself getting weaker. It was harder to get himself down the stairs every day, harder to get himself to this cursed chair, but he didn't care. He couldn't get himself to care about anything really and his death would be one that he would welcome.

He had tried to go outside, he had tried to return to a normal life, but he couldn't. Everything reminded him of her, everything. Shortly after the breakup he had tried to move on with his life, he had tried to go out and rejoin the real world again but the remnants of their relationship haunted him everywhere he went. He couldn't handle it. For a while he would go out and get into fights. His broken face would adorn every paper. His angry eyes piercing anyone who dared to read the story. Once the anger ran out, he would start fights but he wouldn't fight back. He wouldn't defend himself once they started throwing punches, he just stood there welcoming the onslaught. The punches that the men threw at him eventually made him fall to the ground and he would lay there, embracing their kicks and punches with open arms. Draco would refuse medical attention, he wanted to feel physical pain instead of emotional pain for once. Eventually, Draco suspected due to Blaise's influence, no one would fight him anymore. Once he was unable to pick fights with anyone he didn't bother leaving the house.

He knew that the pictures of him broken and bleeding were plastered all across the tabloids and the daily prophet. He knew his parents would be rolling in their graves for the shame he was causing the Malfoy name but he didn't care. Maybe she would see it and realize what she had made him, what she had turned him into. He knew that he was a monster, he had done terrible things, had done unspeakable things, but she had changed that. She had turned him into a kind and caring person, she made him think he wasn't a monster. She showed him all of his potential, all of his worth, and then she fucking left him. She fucking left a hole in his very being. He hoped that she saw the pictures and it made her compassionate little heart bleed, that it made her sorry that she ever tried to fix him. He didn't have potential she did. Her heart, her energy, just spilled around him, around everyone. He just basked in her light and it fooled everyone else into thinking that he was worth something too. It was all her, it was always her.

He woke to cold water being poured on his face. He barely moved, barely reacted, he just blinked his eyes into focus.

"Draco," An irritated Blaise addressed him, "this is quite enough, it has been a month, no more self-pitying, no more wallowing in your misery. You are killing yourself."

"Then let me die," he responded in a raspy voice, his throat dry and scratchy from drinking and from lack of use.

"Draco, stop being so dramatic. We have all gone through heartaches, we have all gone through break ups. It's time that you talk to me about it, have a one night stand, and start to put your life together." He moved closer to Draco and shook his shoulders. "Get up!"

"This isn't just a heart ache, this is a soul ache, she was a part of me, she was everything to me," Draco quietly said, just saying it almost made him want to cry. "I begged her, I told her I would die without her. I was right."

"You are dying because of yourself, not because of what she did to you. You are being ridiculous. What do you think she thinks of you now? If she saw you right now what would she say to you?" Blaise questioned him, trying to get him to understand what he was doing to himself.

"She would probably say that I was being a git, and that I am still the same sniveling boy that she remembers from school," he relented.

Blaise nodded, "And she would be right, honestly Draco, you need to pull it together, if you ever want to win her back, you need to prove it, and you can't do that if you die."

"Blaise, she is everywhere, I can't escape her."

"Then remember all the good that she has done, remember all that she has stood for. Remember all that she changed within you, and remember those things by acting on them. Don't let the memories torment you, let them guide you."

"She was all I had," he whispered.

"You have yourself, Draco, that is enough," Blaise responded evenly.

Was it enough? Draco stared into the fire, thinking over what Blaise said, he was tormented, he wasn't sure if he would be able to actually live his life without her, but Blaise was right, he owed it to her and himself to try. He gave a slight nod of his head and then got up from the chair.