A.N: Whisky Lullaby is a country song I happened across while sick, yet AGAIN, and surfing through the music channels. I heart country. Just in the last year. Now I can only honestly say I hate that screaming emo crap. And yes, it's crap. If the average person has no idea what the hell is being said, it's crap. Like rap. Why else would they rhyme? Oh, and this is my first try at this pairing. Be nice. :P
Disclaimer: One day I'll buy the rights to the entire Harry Potter existence and use them to whatever will-bendage I decide suits my mood. Until then, this is the best I can do. Enjoy.
Whisky Lullaby
The day she left him he got sick. I suppose I should be a little more blunt with you: the first thing he did was retch in the foyer to his house. He made it to the bathroom the third time. He was sick until he swore he could see bits of blood in the toilet. Once he had a hold of himself he showered. He didn't want to acknowledge his tears, and with the water running over his face and body he couldn't even tell they were there. He stayed there until all the hot water was gone, he stayed there until the water was so cold his lips were blue when he stepped out. The tears were gone then, for the day at least.
The next thing he did was go for the cabinet. She'd always hated that thing, so it had grown dusty from disuse and it's contents had aged nicely. He drank half a bottle of whiskey on an empty stomach. Not a wise thing to do, as he soon realised, and so he finished off the left over pizza in the fridge. She'd ordered it. It had all her favourite toppings. He ran to the bathroom and was sick again.
She put him out like the burnin' end of a midnight cigarette
She broke his heart he spent his whole life tryin' 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
During the war he'd acted as Slytherins do of course. He decided which side was more beneficial for him and joined it. He may have been selfish but he was unwavering. He got just as much information as Snape did and continually put his life on the line. I asked him once, why do you do it? Why did you join us? He just smiled at me and said, "Your girls look better." Maybe that was the reason, maybe he just wanted to put on a good face so he could be with her, have that chance with her. I know I lost out on it long ago. And they were happy. They really were. When he was out at a meeting Harry and I sat with her until he got back and she knew she'd have him another night. When she was on a mission we sat with him, trying to keep him from going after her to help (assuming we weren't on the mission too I mean). He had a hard time remembering that he was more help staying out of the way. I guess his breeding didn't include that. Even though I said that, we did end up getting along quite well. Shockingly. It was probably just for her on everyone's part.
I never figured out why she left him. She was too upset to talk about it much. She just needed us to support her and let her cry on whichever shoulder she got to first. So that's what we did. I mean, except when it came to homework we'd always listened to her.
One day she ran in in complete meltdown mode. Mum managed to translate that she'd tried to get a hold of him to talk and there had been no reply at the manor. Why she'd waited so long none of us knew. We never found out either. Harry and I went to the manor and looked for him. I don't think either of us had even thought to check on him since she left him, and Merlin how I wish now we had of.
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
Than 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
She took it hard of course. We brought the note back and gave it to her. I think we shouldn't have let her even know it existed. She may have been able to get over him if we hadn't. At the funeral she didn't cry. She probably had no tears left. She just stood there, holding a blood-red rose, still as a statue. I know she stayed until they were finished burying him. Most left after the preacher had finished speaking. She stayed until even the workers were gone. I watched her kneel beside the fresh mound of dirt and speak quietly. I wasn't intrusive enough to listen - I just wanted to make sure she was alright. She didn't see me as she finally left. She never looked back as she left the cemetery and Disaparated. I don't remember if I took it as a good sign or a bad sign that she didn't look back. I took it as a sign though.
I tried to keep an eye on her. Harry and I both did. We visited as much as possible without intruding. We took her out to lunch during breaks from work and tried to lift her spirits with new books. She had once loved books. I guess they didn't mean anything compared to him. I know for a fact she never read any of them.
The rumours flew but nobody knew how much she blamed herself
For years and years she tried to hide the whiskey on her breath
She finally drank her pain away a little at a time
But she never could get drunk enough to get him off her mind
Until the night
I don't remember when it was that Harry and I got suspicious of her. She was always popping mints. It was like she was addicted to them. Whenever we came over she had a mint in her mouth before she hugged us. One day we decided enough time had gone by to confront her. We headed over to her apartment together. She didn't answer the door and we broke her wards and went in. I thought she was sleeping. Beside her bad on the table was the blood red rose from his funeral, dried and crumbled. In her left hand was a spilled bottle of whisky. In the other something crinkled. I didn't find out what it was till later, because at that point I realised what had happened. I blacked out,
She put that bottle to her head and pulled the trigger
And finally drank away his memory
Life is short but this time it was bigger
Than the strength she had to get up off her knees
We found her with her face down in the pillow
Clinging to his picture for dear life
We laid her next to him beneath the willow
While the angels sang a whiskey lullaby
At her funeral I didn't cry. I held a blood red rose and stood stiff as a board. I may have looked ridiculous in that pose, but it doesn't matter now. Didn't matter then. I waited until everyone had left, then knelt down beside the new dirt mound and studied the two tombstones, side by side. "Goodbye Draco," I said to the first one. "You better meet her, ferret." I looked sadly at the second. "Goodbye Hermione. I'm sorry … I'm sorry I didn't invite you to the Yule ball."
I stood and hurried past Harry lurking in the bushes, watching me. Probably making sure I was alright. It didn't matter then and it doesn't matter now why he waited. I Disaperated as soon as I was out of the graveyard. There was a bottle of whisky waiting for me at home.