A/N: I strongly suggest you listen to this song. "Whiskey Lullaby" by Brad Paisley and Allison Kruass (I don't know how to spell her last name.) The "la la la" chorus is haunting.
In this one, Harry is the guy in the song and Draco is the girl.
This will be the final chapter.
Chapter Three, Whiskey Lullaby
Hmm.
Interesting.
Three months since that night.
Seven weeks since Hearmione had forced him to take anti-depressants.
They still weren't working.
She didn't get it, couldn't understand.
No one had ever left her.
She'd never had her heart broken.
He had.
His was.
Beyond repair.
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She put him out like the burnin' end of a midnight cigarette
She broke his heart he spent his whole life tryin' to forget
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He was no longer crying, consciously.
He'd wake up, sometimes, at night, to feel tears running down his face.
But he couldn't cry, otherwise.
He'd taken to drinking.
They didn't know that.
She would panic if she knew.
He just kept her out of his house.
Yup.
He was a regular alcoholic.
It didn't work very well though.
You know the muggle movie "The Legend of Bagger Vance"?
There's an alcoholic in it, too.
That alcoholic knows the truth.
Whiskey's only good for two things, cleanin' car tires and killin' brain cells.
When your drunk, the first cells to go are the quiet cells, so everything you say, you say real loud.
But that's alright 'cause the stupid cells go next, so everythin' you say is real smart.
But the memory cells, it takes a lot more than simple drunk to kill those buggers.
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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
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He'd spent enough time in both worlds to have a good idea how to go about this.
Most spells wouldn't work, it would be too hard to cast them on himself.
He certainly wasn't about to ask one of them to do it for him.
All in all, the muggle way was best.
A small amount of money later, he walked, package in hand, to his desk.
Parchment.
Quill.
Last words.
The bed looked strangely inviting.
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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
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Draco stared.
No.
It wasn't possible.
He had known his boyfriend would be down, It had been five years after all.
But he didn't expect this.
This was wrong.
It had to be a lie.
But there it was.
Picture of the outside of their old place as a stretcher covered in white was moved.
Press wasn't allowed inside.
Mudblood and Weasel were walking beside it.
Tears pouring down their faces.
Virginia Weasley had found him.
Bottles strewn about the place.
In his bed.
She was afraid.
She went to wake him, then saw the note.
And the blood.
I will never stop loving you.
I can't.
That's what the note said
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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
la la la la la la la
la la la la la la la
la la la la la la la
la la la la la la la
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It hit him hard.
He stopped caring.
Stopped searching.
Stopped living.
The only margin of solace he could find was at the bottom of a bottle
Funny, that what he... gods it hurt... that's what Harry had been doing.
Ironic, really.
After all, he had been the one that left.
Presumably, he didn't need anyone else.
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The rumors flew but nobody knew how much she blamed herself
For years and years she tried to hide the whiskey on her breath
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He'd never needed anyone else before.
'Course, he'd never stayed for five years before.
Fitting, really.
The one bridge it had been possible to fix, the one bridge he'd wanted most to repair, was the one bridge he talked himself into believing irreparable.
Hmm.
Whiskey is rather beautiful when the fire light is shining through the bottle.
Nothing like wine though.
Red wine.
Blood red wine.
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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
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That kind of wine really was beautiful.
Once, he remembered, he'd brought a bottle of that...
Maybe it was a reddish champagne...
Oh well.
It was very beautiful when poured all over his boyfriend and the sheets.
He decided to recreate that.
No boyfriend...
A picture there instead, then.
What of red wine?
No wine.
No pink champagne either.
Nothing but whiskey.
Food dye the whiskey?
Nah.
To cheap.
To fake.
Wait a minute.
That was it.
That would work.
Wonder if there are and kitchen knives in this place.
It really was a beautiful color.
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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
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An article ran in all the Wizarding papers in Europe, the next day. It appeared that one Draco Malfoy had committed suicide. A member of staff at the hotel where Mr. Malfoy was staying, had gone up to Mr. Malfoy's room to see why he hadn't left yet. He'd only paid for the room until noon. The staff member knocked and, when he received no answer for over ten minutes, called the manager.
The manager, a Mister Blaise Zabini, an old school friend of Mr. Malfoy's, had a master key that worked on all the rooms in the hotel. When he walked in, he saw Mr. Malfoy, face down on the white sheets of his bed, with his arms underneath him as if he were holding something.
Mr. Zabini tapped him and, when there was no response, turned him over. This was all reported to us by the member of staff. When Mr. Zabini turned Mr. Malfoy over, he found the bed soaked in blood, apparently from large cuts in Mr. Malfoy's wrists. Mr. Zabini then discontinued rational thinking of any kind and was admitted to the temporary psychiatric ward at The local Hospital.
Mr. Malfoy, along with the picture he was clinging to, will, on Sunday, be buried in England on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He will be laid next to the grave of Harry Potter, the man in Mr. Malfoy's photograph.
We can only hope that the two of them have found peace at last.
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We laid her next to him beneath the willow
While the angels sang a whiskey lullaby
la la la la la la la
la la la la la la la
la la la la la la la
la la la la la la la
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We can only hope.
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la la la la la la la
la la la la la la la
la la la la la la la
la la la la la la la
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A/N: What did you think?