A/N: Drinking and drunken teenage angst ahead. ALSO IMPORTANT: I changed the last chapter :P I didn't know where to go from there with it. But this time I do have a direction (of sorts), so go back and read chapter 2.

Draco sat on his bed staring ahead of him as if in a trance. He was in a trance, if you could call it that. At that moment he was debating whether he'd grab his fire whiskey bottle and have a few shots before he wandered around the school wallowing in is own self-pity or not. His father cautioned him against alcohol, and Draco had listened for the most part. He had never gotten drunk, he had never blacked out, he was practically innocent when it came to the other students. You wouldn't have really thought it, but Draco thus far had lived a sheltered life. Sure his father had worked with him on his power, testing him in the Dark Arts, and the Light Arts, and sometimes even the Muggle Arts if it would really benefit him, but he had never really known tragedy. He understood that his father went through a lot as he served the Dark Lord, but both he and his father had been resigned to the fact that this would never change. Not until Potter was ready. It was too bad it was already too late for him to save Draco.

Except Draco wasn't going to think about getting saved anymore. It was just too useless. And he didn't think he could deal with his soul-aching even more. So it was with that thought that Draco stood up and took the fire whiskey off the trunk that sat at the end of his bed. He didn't even bother with finding something to mix it with. All he wanted was that burn, because after the burn came the ice, and after the ice came forgetfulness, and then after he forgot a bit he would drink a little more and not feel at all. And maybe it was self-destructive, but that's what Draco wanted. It was that or… he didn't even know. It would probably be something like turning to Harry Potter's side to do something 'meaningful' with the last of his days… Draco shuddered and took a swig of the fire whiskey, grimacing as a trail of fire went down his throat all the way to his stomach, hitting it with an uncomfortable thunk before it felt like it was freezing his inside, and he exhaled, blowing cold air out of his mouth like if he were outside in the snow, blowing winter out of his mouth. That was the only reason he liked the nasty stuff. He could deal with the fire, it was blowing the cold out of his body that he liked. It felt like he was exhaling meaning. A winter's sigh. Breathing a haiku like the one he heard once:

first snow --
begins in the darkness
ends in the darkness

Not that he really knew what a haiku was, but it didn't matter, because those few words held so much meaning. And with his fire whiskey bottle he could exhale his own snow. Sure it sounded ridiculous, but right now it was possibly the only thing keeping him sane. Well, sane might not have been the word. It was keeping him drunk. Yes drunk was really the only word for it.

Draco wanted to stay as drunk as possible, because who knew how long it would be until someone came down and found him, drinking his last days on earth away. But who would come? Draco laughed bitterly. It wasn't as if he had any true friends, and his own Godfather, Snape didn't really know what it meant to be a Godfather. Not that Draco did either, but he figured that it wasn't making him stand around making boring meaningless potions while his Godfather worked on his theoretical potions. Although at least he was working on theoretical Draco stuff right now. And for that Draco was glad. He wouldn't want to leave this earth without knowing someone out there was fighting to save him. Even if he himself wasn't.

Draco sighed. How depressing. He needed something else to do before he started writing stupid poetry and wearing black all the time. Well, except for he already wore black all the time, it wasn't his fault he looked stunning in anything that contrasted with his pale skin. The girls flocked to him, he just wished that his looks would bring him friends, rather than meaningless make-out sessions in the Astronomy Tower that he didn't even enjoy. He just thought that that's what young handsome men like him should be doing. But then what did he know? It's not like he had any sort of older brother, or friend to look up to so he knew what he'd be doing. As far as he saw he was probably the only person in the whole damn school getting any action, and he didn't even enjoy it.

Draco really wished he had a friend. He didn't want to go through his last days alone. And he didn't just want any friend. He wanted a best friend. The kind where you don't have any awkward moments, and you never stopped to wonder what they might say after you told them something important, you just knew that they would have something good to say. The kind of friend who was closer to you than your own family, the ones who knew their way around your kitchen and vice versa since you're hardly ever apart (not that Draco even knew his way around his own kitchen, but that really wasn't the point.) He wanted the kind of friend who would skip school for you just because you're sick and you'd be deadly bored without them. That's what he wanted for his last few days on Earth.

And the sad thing was that he knew he'd never get it. Draco choked back a sob and collapsed against the wall, his heart-breaking, which quite possibly hurt more than the feeling of his soul-breaking. The tears ran silently down his face as he stared up at the ceiling. It was too late for best friends. Draco threw back the fire whiskey and took a huge gulp. Then he exhaled winter as if he were trying to freeze the whole hall, and each little bit of air that he expelled from his lungs held a tiny shard of his heart as Draco let go. Slowly but surely, preparing himself for oblivion.

Draco didn't know how long he sat there for, but his back was starting to cramp and he was beginning to feel the tiniest bit more sober. He didn't want that to last long, he'd have to go back to his room to get some more Fire Whiskey. Mumbling as he got to his feet he noticed some movement from around the corner. Not really wanting to know what was going on, but too drunk to care about what he really wanted to do, he decided to follow the spontaneity of being drunk and he peered around the corner none too stealthily.

It appeared to be Potter, mumbling to himself about who knows what. Draco didn't know what Harry was thinking going around mumbling. It wasn't like he had some excuse, like being mindblowingly-but-on-the-recovery-to-being-sober drunk like Draco was. Draco barely even cared, but he found himself following Potter anyways. He wasn't even bothering to be stealthy about it. How Potter didn't hear him was beyond him.

Potter stopped and looked around, Draco dived around a corner before he was seen. Seeker instincts were nothing to laugh at, even while being severely drunk. Peeking back around he saw Potter pacing three times, thinking hard, and then a door appeared and he went in. Draco knew that the castle had some odd quirks, doors that appeared out of nowhere was a common sight, but being able to make a door appear out of nowhere is something altogether different. It takes passwords, and secret spells to be able to do that, and while Draco knew there was a way out of the school through the hump of an old witch, he didn't know the password, and he had never caught anyone going through it. But it seemed like this secret door, all you had to do was pace three times on the opposite side of that tapestry, while… appearing to think really hard, or actually thinking really hard about something, and you were in. Draco wondered where it led. He'd just have to wait until Potter had gone.

It didn't take long. Soon Potter was off again walking away from him and the secret door and Draco crept up to the tapestry. Before he started he'd have to think of something to think about. Unfortunately the thought of thinking something just drove thoughts out of his mind and he fiddled around in his thoughts trying to grasp something solid, but eventually he gave up. He'd just think about whatever came to mind. And so he approached the opposite wall, paced three times, and a door appeared. Stealthily he looked around, took the handle and opened the door.

Inside was heaven.

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Hermione had fallen in love at a young age. She was not surprised at all about falling in love with him, nor would anyone else be surprised. Only the boy in question would be surprised, but that was his nature. Ron could just be so amusingly dim witted sometimes. Everyone could tell how Ron felt about Hermione, and everyone could tell how Hermione felt about Ron (except Ron), and they all hoped that soon Ron would get his act together and just go for it.

Well he went for it alright, but not in any way a young girl hoped for or dreamed for.

It happened on the night after Christmas. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had retired for the night and left the young Weasley clan, plus Hermione downstairs in the sitting room drinking eggnog. Hermione hadn't noticed and everyone else was turning a blind eye as Fred and George spiked the drinks with their very own invention, tasteless Vodka. As eggnog is Hermione's favourite she drank quite a bit, and didn't even notice any effects of the Vodka until the clock struck midnight. Suddenly it was as if being caught in the fog and everything went hazy, she could barely remember what had happened at all, except for glimpses. She had thought a pillow was a book and she was trying to open it, but it wouldn't work. She was clutching a wicker basket claiming that she wasn't going to be sick, but 'just in case!' Then she was spilling eggnog all over the floor. But more time than that had passed, and Hermione didn't remember any of that until the next morning.

What she does remember is when she came out of the fog and she found herself sitting with Ginny in the bathroom, face laid on the toilet seat, hand in the bowl feeling the cold water whirl around as she flushed it over and over again. Ginny was crying, as was Hermione. She heard herself saying, 'why don't you like me Ginny? What did I do? What did I ever do?' Ginny was replying, 'Hermione! I DO like you! Please you must believe me! I'm sorry if I ever made you feel that I didn't like you!' In the morning Hermione felt humiliated that she'd said such a thing to Ginny. Of course Ginny liked her, they just haven't been close, ever. Ginny truly felt like she'd wronged Hermione, and swore that they'd spend more time together. Hermione had nodded, ashamed. But that was in the morning, the night still hadn't ended.

Ginny and Hermione had crept out of the bathroom and into the living room giggling like mad when they saw Ron asleep on the floor. Hermione had wanted a picture so she grabbed the camera and took a shot. Immediately developing she saw that Ron in the picture was grinning and peeking his eyes open, and then closing them again while sniggering. Hermione kicked Ron who started laughing and stood up. Fog. Now Hermione was in her night gown laughing with Ginny and Ron while they laid on the floor under the same blanket. Ginny was on the left side, Ron was in the middle (on the crack between the two bed mats they pushed together), with Hermione on Ron's other side. She can't remember what they were laughing about, but she can remember trying to fight to keep herself awake, but it was a losing battle, and she was forced to say goodnight before slipping peacefully into oblivion.

It was sometime later that night, she was on the edge between awake and dreaming and she turned towards the middle of the bed. A soft body was there, not really thinking about what she was doing she slipped her knee between the other body's knees and snuggled up close before promptly falling back into the fog.

Fog is lifting, something is happening. She finds it curious that her nipple doesn't hurt when pinched like that. Yeah, why doesn't her nipple hurt? Wait, her nipple? Why is she thinking of her nipple? She struggles to grasp at more thoughts. Fog lifts some more. A hand is running down her body, past her stomach, into her pants, massaging. Somehow she knows that his hand is returning there, that this has been going on for some time. She is moving against him, making soft sounds against his neck. She wants to find him with her mouth but she can't. Who? Ron. Fog lifts. Ginny is here, she thinks. Ginny is here? This panics her. She's starting to come back, and she starts to willingly think to herself, 'push him away and turn over, push him away and turn over…' she chants this to herself willing her body to obey. It isn't. She keeps chanting. Fog returns. But only for a few minutes, and Hermione wakes up completely. A comforting hand is on her thigh, and she is turned in the other direction. Ginny, she can tell it is Ginny's hand.

'It must've worked', she thought to herself. She had pushed him away and rolled over. And then somehow Ginny had traded spots with her. This comforted her. She turns her mind back to what was happening, thinking about it she thinks to herself, 'Well… he wasn't too good at what he was doing, was he?' She starts to giggle. Giggling turns into laughter, and although she is stifling the sound her body is shaking. And then suddenly her brain clears and she has fully realized what's happened. She starts to cry.

"What's wrong?" Ginny whispers in the dark. How does she not know? Hermione gets up and goes to the kitchen. Turning on the light she pours herself a glass of water and sits down. Ginny has followed her and done the same.

They hear a door close in the back room. Hermione can see out the back door from her spot at the table and she sees Ron jump on his broom and fly away. "Wait, how much has he had to drink?" Hermione asks, alarmed.

"Don't worry Hermione, he does this all the time!" Ginny said.

"Oh this is all my fault," Hermione groans into her hands, "If he dies, it'll be all my fault."

"Why, what?" Ginny asks, looking at her with confusion on her face. It becomes increasingly clear that Ginny has no idea what had just went on. Hermione decides not to tell her.

"Nothing," Hermione said, getting up from the table. "Let's just go back to bed." They both return to their bed on the floor, and fall back to sleep.

In the morning at breakfast Ginny and the rest of the young Weasley's are sporting hangovers. Hermione was not, the Weasley's were jealous; Hermione told them that her parents never suffered from hangovers either. Ron did not return to them during the night, and Fred said that he had heard him go into his room sometime around 5am. He did not come down for breakfast. The young Weasley's joke about all the silly things Hermione did, and as they tell the stories she remembers some of them. Most of it was fog though. She wished that all of it had been fog.

Soon after breakfast, and Mrs. Weasley had decided to get Ron out of bed, Hermione asked Mr. Weasley if it'd be alright if she went home now. She had quite a bit of work to finish (a lie, she had finished her work already) and she wished to visit her family before her return to school. Mr. Weasley said alright, handed her some floo powder, and hugged her goodbye. Deciding to skip a Weasley clan send-off, she gathers her stuff, throws her floo powder into the fire, yells goodbye, and vanishes back home, her last sight of the Weasley household was Ginny running to the fireplace mouthing what looked like 'Hermione, where are you going?'

Now the holidays are over and for the first time ever Hemione doesn't want to return to Hogwarts. She doesn't want to see Ron, she doesn't want to see Harry. She is deeply ashamed, and every time she thinks back on that night she cringes and pushes away the thoughts, but they just keep coming back. Hermione can never see herself getting intimate with a boy again. The thought makes her sick.

"It's time to go Hermione!" Her mother calls from the other room.

Hermione gathers her courage, shrugs into her jacket and makes her way to the car. She would survive this. There was no other choice.

So back to Hogwarts it was. A new semester begins.

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A/N: So that's that. The Haiku of Draco's is a Haiku by Nozawa Setsuko (1920-1995). These stories are based on my stories, except for I don't have a floo, and I can't access the room of requirement. Also I didn't roam the school drunk and self-pitying. I decided to drink in the shower :P. The whole voice in head, and Draco dying bit is not part of my own personal story, so I am not suicidal or a maniac. Don't worry!