Appariting to Luna's place drunk had to have been the worst idea I'd had in a while.

As soon as I landed, I found myself leaning against her fence, doubled over and wrenching my Fire Whiskey onto the ground. It burned even more coming back up, scalding my throat and nostrils.

After my stomach was empty, I quickly muttered a cleaning spell and wobbled my way to the front door, knocking hard. She wouldn't open the door though. Instead she just shouted through the wood, saying Ron didn't want anything to do with me and that I needed to go home. But I didn't go there to talk to her, so I started calling out his name, knowing he wouldn't be able to deny me for long.

He was actually able to hold out longer than I expected, but he finally came to a window above me. I pleaded with him to talk to me, to come home. I even told him I loved him, but that only made things worse.

I never expected such hate-filled things could ever be spit from those beautiful lips: he could do better than me, he deserved better than me, I am less than nothing , there's no one in this world capable of loving me, I should have done everyone a favor and just died in the war. He didn't even cry while saying it. Not even my father was that cruel.

And I believed him. Why else would he say those things? But it didn't hurt any less; didn't stop my heart from breaking, from trying to rip itself out of my chest. He was the one good thing I had ever had in my life and I might have lost him for good over some stupid little pills.

But I refused to leave after Ron slammed the window shut. Instead, I walked myself along the front path to where it met with the fence and sat down against a post, staring back at his window. I had to hope. Once he realized I wasn't giving up without a fight, I knew he would come running back out to me and everything would be fine.

I sat there into the early hours of the morning, a cold rain gently soaking my shirt and chilled me to the bone. But I still refused to move, even as the dirt around me turned to mud and splashed my jeans.

I'm a Malfoy, for Merlin's sake. I was raised to have more pride than this.

The hope of seeing Ron's face full of love again kept me rooted as my milky skin turned sheet white and my lips ghosted blue. I barely noticed the loud crack behind me. My body jumped as his hand harshly gripped my shoulder. Theodore knelt down to look at me properly, concern deeply engrained his features. If they called him, then I guess he's really not coming out. My tears began to mix with the rain on my face and I was able to hold back a sob, but only just.

"Come on, Draco. Let's get you home."

I slowly nodded as Theo helped me to my feet. I glanced back at that window before he apparited us away, to see two shadowed figures watching us leave.

We landed hard in my yard, but Theo kept me from falling over and dragged me inside. He started stripping off my wet clothes, muttering about getting me into a hot shower, but I quickly pushed him off. I told him I could do it myself, but I needed to grab a clean towel from the cellar. He crashed down onto the couch while I went to grab the towel, but my eyes fixated themselves on the floorboard hiding my stash. I just wanted to go back upstairs, but Ron's voice echoed through my brain. And I believed every word of it. So I quickly pried up the wood and snatched my baggy, hiding it in my towel before heading up the stairs and straight into the bathroom, ignoring my friend, and locked the door. I pulled my sopping clothes off, piling them on the floor by the door, and started the water.

Now, I'm sitting on the loo, staring at the little friend that ruined my life overnight. They promised relief from Ron in the pub, relief from my past in my living room. Sitting here, I can almost hear them whisper my name. Another promise: relief from it all. The horrible things I saw during the war, what I did, Ron's hate for me.

All gone with one gulp. But can I actually go through with it?

Man up, Draco. Father always did say you were weak.

There must be 20 or so in my throat, sticking as they glide down after a drink from the sink. I massage my neck to will them down as I climb into the tub. I sit back, letting the warm water hit my body as my vision turns fuzzy and fades to blackness.

I hope no one is too upset about me writing about suicide. This chapter was very hard for me to write. I've had a close family member kill themself, so I don't take this subject lightly. But the way I write, I don't do much planning, instead I allow the plot to go where ever it wants and this is where it was telling me to go. I apologize if I upset anyone. There's only one chapter left, so please let me know what you think so far.