Authors Notes: I had this on my computer for such a long time. Like...five months. So I'm posting it, now. And I am apologizing now because I suck at "drunk talk." :P

Warnings: This story contains slash (yaoi), attempted rape, use of alcohal, major angst,inappropriate language, suicide, and this story was not beta-ed. Please excuse the mistakes and sorry for any mistakes with the point of view.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from the Harry Potter series in this fanfic. All are owned by J.K Rowling. I do not own the song "It's Been Awhile" by Staind. I'm not sure if I need a disclaimer for this but I don't want to get sued, so: I do not own Tylenol. I think Kirkland Signature owns it or something. I do however, own the plot of this story.


It's Been Awhile

"Draco?"

Silence.

"Draco?"

Silence.

"Get the fuck up!" the messy haired man yelled, shaking his lover of four years. It seems as though the other boy has passed out again.

Harry sighed and looked down at the blond boy sprawled on the sofa.

"Mmm...gggh." Draco opened his eyes only to immediately close them, bringing his hands up to his face. He moaned as the harsh light penetrating from the window burned hit his delicate, sensitive eyes.

"Oh! Sorry!" Harry yelped, and ran to the windowto shut the heavy curtains.

"Ha-Harry?" Draco asked quietly. The man was sure he would go blind if the aching, pounding pressure in his head continued. His body was painfully aware of the overwhelming sensations. His eyes were more or less scorching in their sockets.

He reached out blindly,tangling his finger's into the other man's hair.

"Harry?"

"I'm here." Harry said, grabbing the ex-Slytherin's hand and opening it up from it's tight fist.

"Here. Take this." He said handing Draco his now seemingly daily dose of pepper-up potion and a few tablets of Tylenol.

Draco thanked Harry with a slight nod, and slowly and oh-so painfully, lifted his form off the plush bed.

The silver haired man dragged his feet across the light-colored carpet and pushed the bathroom door open, sluggishly. He forced himself to look in the mirror.

His current demeanor was nothing of a Malfoy. His face was pale (well, paler than usual), making the dark circles under his eyes even more prominent. He has lost weight slowly, yet noticeably after the war. His hair was sticking up quite oddly; and the strands that did stay down, stuck sallowly to his dewy forehead. Ha! My hair can rival Harry's! Yet, humor aside, he was un-Malfoy like in every way possible. Nothing in his reflection made him the slightest bit proud.

And it's been awhile

Since I could hold my head up high

He wondered what happened last night. Hopefully Harry didn't have to pick him up from the bar again.

Harry and Draco had been lovers for four years. It all began on a November night in their seventh year. Harry was distraught, and so was Draco. One thing led to another and they ended up fucking in Draco's Head Boy quarters. They were a source of comfort to one another. They sought each other out. Every. Single. Night. They used each other as a object to let out rage and frustration. Eventually, they became more gentle and soft. They began to talk and listen to each other. They eventually found out communication was a better way to let out anger than fucking. Yet, that doesn't mean their nightly rendezvous ever ceased.

Over time, they became each other's obsession. Addiction. One another's drug. Their addiction went through their Hogwarts years, and eventually led them to sharing a flat in downtown London.

Ron and Hermione wedded straight out of Hogwarts. The couple learned to tolerate Harry's relationship with Draco. They all acted civil towards each other and even learned to call each other by their first names. Yet, after Draco became caught up in a new addiction, Harry had to go out of his way to help and constantly protect Draco; thus deterring his relationship with his friends of ten years. The three ex-Gryffindor's haven't talked in a year.

Who gives a flying fuck!

He doesn't hate Harry. Nor does he love him. But Harry makes him feel alive, and that is more than he can say for life itself.

And it's been awhile

Since I first saw you

You could drown yourself in those eyes. Those emerald green eyes. And they look exactly the same way they did in that robe shop.

In his seventh year, Draco acted as a spy for the Order. The information that he provided for the Light was invaluable. Yet sometimes, late at night he wonders if it was worth it. Sometimes...only sometimes...he regrets it. The pain and torture, and the hideous laughs emitting from black cloaks as children were slaughtered and houses were burned. The screams of women and the stench of charred flesh. The seas of red crimson, and the vivid flashes of lightening. The shouts of horrid curses, hexes, and jinxes. The wands caused green lights to illuminate the charcoal night sky. The Dark Mark scarring the perfect eventide. But then he looks at Harry, and Harry's smile, and Harry's laugh, and the way Harry looks at him when he says something really sappy, and he knows he would go through it all again.

But that doesn't mean thatI love him.

But sometimes,Harry wasn't there to provide a shoulder to cry on, or a laugh to brighten his day. He had to turn towards something, right? And what better substance to substitute your pain with than alcohol...

Harry would complain and protest. 'It's not healthy' he would say 'You are slowly killing yourself'. Then tears would well up in his eyes and Draco would hold him and they would cry together and then...

Draco would go back to the bar.

When Harry threatened to leave, Draco took action, even though he knew that Harry's threat was an empty one.

He couldn't leave me. I'm his drug.

Yet, Draco found some cheap rehab. For awhile it worked. With the help of the counselors and Harry, Draco was off the booze for a few good weeks.

For awhile it worked...

And it's been awhile

Since I could stand on my own two feet again

But by the fifth week, he was on the numbing liquid again. Mind you, it was cheap rehab for a reason.

But no matter how drunk he would get and no matter how many times he would publicly shame himself, Harry would always be there.

And it's been awhile

Since I could call you

Draco brushed his teeth and took a shower, coming out feeling the effects of the potion and aspirin. He looked in the mirror, grinned, and began to put on some loose jeans. He heard muffled sobs coming from the other side of the door.

Harry?

He quickly opened the door, only to stop at what he saw. Harry was on the couch, his knees drawed up against his chest. Tremors wracked his lean form. Harsh sobs escaped his hidden face. Draco rushed over to the couch and put his arms around the other man. Harry tensed in the blonde's arms, startled and hastily trying to hide any evidence he had been weeping. Draco simply rocked him back and forth.

"What's wrong, Harry?"

"Tell me..." I say reassuringly.

"You don't remember last night do you?" Harry asked. His voice cracked and he sniffled a bit.

"Remember what?"

And everything I can't rememberAs fucked up as it all may seem

The consequences that I've rendered

I've stretched myself beyond my means

And Draco knew he said something wrong when Harry went into another fit of uncontrollable sobs and hot tears.


One Week Ago


"DRACO!"

"Har-" -hiccup-"ry, love! 'ow are ya dis fine eve'nin'?"

"Oh fuck! What the hell did you do to yourself!"

The pale man was confused for the intoxicant left him immune to the pain, but to a sober person -such as Harry - Draco looked like shit. His face was bruised, his lips were blue, and a trickle of blood escaped his left nostril. Draco tasted the blood as it hit his swollen lips.

"Oi'! Dis!" he pointed to his face and stumbled a bit. "Me 'nd me mates down by da bar" -hiccup and giggle-"got in er small rumble. All fun 'nd games doh, love! Don't get your knickers in er"-giggle-"er, knot..."

"Oh god! Draco!"

"...cuz, it doesn't solve anythin', 'nd it makes ya walk funny." he giggled at his own joke, but his laughter was abrupt as he stumbled then collapsed upon the living room table.

Draco lands upon a sea of broken glass. Billions on shards pierced his delicate porcelain form. Blood swirled and danced with the glass until every shard was tinted red...


It's been awhile

Since I can say that I wasn't addicted

That day still hasn't come yet. The day I could claim myself free, and break the chains the Vodkas and Bloody Marys have bonded to repress my soul... and Harry's.

Harry would always make me feel..loved. Even though I might not be. But at least he cares for me. I only wish that his compassion would rub off on me so at least,I would be able to care about myself.

And it's been awhile

Since I can say I love myself as well and

Harry and I were on a low budget after paying for this expensive apartment; and that budget dropped after we paid for my medical expenses. So we couldn't exactly afford a new table. I screwed up...again.

And it's been awhile

Since I've gone and fucked things up

Just like I always do

But Harry told me it's not my fault. He should have woken up when he heard the car start. He should have known that I was going to Barry's Bar. But he didn't. That's bullshit! I know it, and deep down...he does too. But Harry always tries to give himself some of my burdens, so I won't crush underneath their weight. I always wondered why he does that? Probably Gryffindor pride.

And it's been awhile

But all that shit seems to disappear when I'm with you

And now, I began to remember last night...


Last Night


And everything I can't remember

As fucked up as it all may seem

The consequences that I've rendered

I've gone and fucked things up again

"'Ar-'Arry! 'Aarry, love!" Draco walks into the flat, bilious and weary. Harry, exasperated walks once again into the living room. He stands on the now pink-stained carpet.

"Again Dray? When will this- who the fuck is that!" and for the first time Harry looks at Draco and the man with him.

Draco laughs. "Don't wor-ry you'rrrre"-hiccup-"perrrty lil' messy head, 'Arry."-giggle-"I'ma not cheatin' on ya!" Draco stumbles a bit.

"'E's 'ere", Draco points at the man, "ter build a table!"

Harry looks at the man. He is at least six foot four. He looks burly and brawny. He must outweigh Draco by at least one hundred and fifty pounds. He has curly brown hair and a deep set of eyes. He was wearing faded jeans and a simple red t-shirt.

He wasn't carrying any supplies.

Harry, being the currently far more logical one, was able to put two and two together.

"You didn't tell me you lived with anybody!" the man said to Draco in a gruff, accusing, and slightly scared tone.

"GET THE FUCK OUT!" Harry screamed in a blinding rage, with more force than Draco ever thought the ex-Gryffindor could possess.

The man made a quick dash for the door. Harry stared blankly at the spot where the man was previously standing, his chest heaving. Without warning, Harry collapsed into a crumpled heap on the floor.

Draco bent down and sat beside Harry, wrapping his arms around the brunette.

"'Arry? What's da ma"-hiccup-"tter? Why'd ya yell at dat nice man?"

Harry looked at the blond, his eyes were tinted red and his now pale skin was blotchy. His sobs temporarily ceased and his eyes narrowed at the blond.

"That man was not nice." Harry said softly yet his cold voice sent shivers coursing up and down Draco's spine.

Harry sees Draco's confusion. "He was going to-" -sob- "going to..."

"Builda table? Yea, I know..." Draco said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh Merlin, he was going to-"


"Rape me?" I whisper in disbelief and Harry looks up at me.

Why must I feel this way?

Just make this go away

Just one more peaceful day

"You remember?"

"It's over." I say firmly.

"Huh?" Harry gives me a quizzical look.

"It's over. I'm done. No more drinking."

"Really? Well, we are kinda low on money so I'm going out to find a job. Once our income increases, I'll be able to get you in a better rehab center and-"

"No rehab. We aren't gonna waste our money on that shit again. I'm stopping this today. Alone."

"If you say so..." he says in a disbelieving tone and he kisses my cheek. He stands up, fully dressed.

"Where are you going?"

"I told you, to apply for a job. I was about to go after giving you your aspirin."

"Oh."

"See ya this evening?"

"Bye."

"And try to stay in the house, please." he says as he throws on a jacket.

He really doesn't believe me!

"I told you! I'm never drinking again!" I say, furious at his lack of belief and trust in me.

"Oh! Right!" he says. And with another kiss, he's out the door.

And it's been awhile

Since I could look at myself straight

I sigh and lift myself off the couch. I head towards the bathroom. Every step I take is agony and my feet feel like lead. But I told Harry, I promised Harry that I was through.

And I am.

On my way to the bathroom, I pick up a piece of paper and pen. I also grab with me a wizarding photo of Harry. It shows him in a green t-shirt (that I picked out for him, of course) that shows his figure perfectly and brings out the color of his eyes. I remember that day. That was the day Harry introduced me to the muggle treat, ice cream. I remember chucking my ice cream and kissing him under the willow tree. He tasted like vanilla.

I enter the bathroom and I place the paper and pen on the counter. Sitting on the toilet seat, my eyes welling up with tears I write:

I am sorry, Harry. I love you.

I stand up slowly and place the seven-worded note on the lid of the toilet.

And it's been awhile

Since I said I'm sorry

I open the cabinet attached to the wall, and I pull out a small, sharp razor blade. I sit in the confined bathtub and pull the shower curtain around me. Even after what I'm about to do and even though I am home alone, I would still enjoy my privacy. If Harry came here, and saw me first, he would totally ignore the note. And I don't want that. I want him to read it. I want him to know that I am sorry for all the pain I put him through...all the pain I will put him through. And I want him to know that I love him. Because I do. I realize that now. I am not doing this for me, but for Harry. I know it will hurt in the beginning, but he will see...it was for the best.

I place the blade neatly and oh-so carefully on the edge of the tub. I look at the picture of Harry. He is winking and sticking his tongue out playfully. I smile and stick my tongue out as well. He is so damn beautiful. The sun shines behind him, making it seem as though there is an ethereal light around him. A heavenly halo.

And it's been awhile

Since I've seen the way the candles light your face

"I love you." I whisper in my currentlyhoarse, croaked voice. Crystal drops fall on Harry, and I realize I'm crying. I kiss the photo. I kiss Harry.

And it's been awhile

But I can still remember just the way you taste

"Goodbye my love...my drug."

I once again, pick up the razor blade and draw it against the smooth flesh of my left wrist. A red trail follow the blade's path. It fascinates me. I cut and cut and slice.

I switch to my right wrist.

And everything I can't remember

As fucked up as it all may seem to be

I know it's me

I should have done this sooner! It feels so good! It makes me feel...indescribable! I just cut and cut because I can no longer feel pain. I slice and slice until my hands turn too pale...almost gray. They feel so numb! So good! I drop the blade. It falls with a clatter to the bottom of the tub. The bottom. It feels so close now...

I cannot blame this on my father

He did the best he could for me

I might join father. In hell. If there is one.

I watch hazily as the crimson liquid plays with the white ceramic tile in the tub. As the red swirls down the bathtub drain, it leaves trails of pink, marking it's presence. Pink, pink, pretty pink--- and then...black.


"Draco! Draco!"

Oh crap! Not again!

I'll go pick him out of the bar. Maybe he has some sobriety left in him.

I go to the bathroom to get the Tylenol so I can pop them in him before we get back home. I don't think we are able to afford damaging anymore furniture.

As I open the cabinet and grab the aspirin, something on the toilet seat grabs my eye. I pick up a small piece of paper and on it says:

I am sorry, Harry. I love you.

It isn't signed but I begin to panic because I know who it's from. It is only then I notice the odd smell in the bathroom.

Oh Merlin, it smells really bad.

I think, I think it's coming from the -what? Bathtub?

I slowly advance towards it, taking precaution, my wand at the ready.

I pull back the shower curtain and-


Six Months Later


"Let's go with umm...er...anotha Vodka today, Barry."

I sit myself down on the stool and I count the shot glasses in front of me. Six.

That's not good, is it?

Ever since Draco's death, I took up booze. Ironic, huh?

I have no one to tell me not to drink. I have no one to drive me home after 'one too many'. I have nothing.

Yet, I'm going to wait. I'm going to go down the same path Draco did. As soon as I saw his body in the bathroom, I cried, yes. But I cried and drank his stash of alcohols under the bed. I passed out. It was a glorious feeling.

I miss Draco so much. I love him. I never got to tell him. Or rather, I chose not to tell him because I was afraid my feelings would go unreturned. So much for Gryffindor courage, huh? Maybe if I told him, I wouldn't be in this mess right now.

I begin to stack the shot glasses in a pyramid.

I told Draco I would follow him wherever he goes. To the ends of the earth if it was necessary. No matter how hard he tries, he can't escape me.

And he told me he will never even bother, because I'm his addiction and he can't live without me.

Barry passes me my Vodka. I down it quickly.

I hope Draco will wait for me, wherever he may be.

I hope that I will be blessed of suffering the same fate as Draco.

It may sound weird, and it may creep people out, but it's true. Ever since that day, I really don't give a flying fuck about morals and standards. I don't care about pride...because I don't have any.

And it's been awhile

Since I could hold my head up high

Oh, what a tragic life I lead.

I only regret that Draco, an innocent, had to be a part of it. He would have been better off without me. If only he knew my guilt. How sorry I am...

Yet, the saddest part is, I still would have never given him up for the world. Quite selfish of me, isn't it?

And it's been awhile

Since I said I'm sorry

Draco. Hasn't it been awhile since I had my drug?


Finish


Please review. No I am not suicidal, and I am not even close to the legal age of being permitted to drink. Bye, I need to go read a really fluffy Harry/Draco right now.