Vienna

Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

AN: So I know I say this all the time, but I really am sorry this is so late. For some reason, it was a very hard chapter for me to write, and not the best two weeks… my grandmother was just diagnosed with lung cancer, so I wasn't very inspired… but I'm back and I've been doing word challenges nightly, and honestly they really do help me write more. Once again thank you to all my lovely reviewers, my silent readers… and of course Anna. I hope I got all of you, my email wasn't exactly cooperating either.

Enjoy!

(Oh, and if any of my WC girlies are reading this… thanks for all the support guys, I love you all :) )

Chapter 12

Draco Malfoy

I was a monster.

No, I was worse than a monster; I was lower than any demon or pitiful soul that was currently rotting in hell.

The Devil had nothing on me. Purgatory was no place for me, I deserved so much worse.

I was a father… dear God… I was a father.

Six years, six fucking years, I went without knowing.

And then I had just let her walk away. I didn't even say anything. Not a 'don't go', or a 'please stay' or even an apology. What hurt the most, though, was just watching her walk away. Everything I wanted to say to her just got caught in my mouth, and in a matter of mere seconds I was reduced to nothing more than a blubbering idiot and made a complete ass out of myself.

Although I'm pretty sure Hermione already thought I was.

It was dark out now as I stumbled through the streets of a small muggle town in an attempt to find a halfway decent bar, anything to get my mind off of Hermione and Emma; it was just too much to process right now. People in the streets ran away from me, the crazed son-of-a-death-eater madman, while others pointed and whispered. I couldn't distinguish between voices, and they all blurred together and buzzed in my ear like one of those infuriating bugs you just wanted to squish.

Why couldn't I find a damn pub already?

Quite a few families walked right by me, and it was maddening how happy they looked. Hermione hated me, I was so bloody sure of that, there was no way she was going to let me into Emma's life – how could I ever expect her too?

I didn't deserve the honor.

Finally, I spotted a small pub down the road. The door was propped open and I could hear loud music streaming out, accompanied by the boisterous laughter coming from the people within. Not exactly the type of place I was looking for, but as long as I could get absolutely shitfaced, it would do.

The pub itself was small, yet it seemed as if the entire town had gathered inside. Large groups of friends surrounded tiny tables piled high with pitchers of amber liquid, while others chose to sit at the counter in the middle of the room. As they nursed their own drinks, a rather large, flat box hung on the wall and displayed a stream of moving pictures featuring a tiny man kicking a ball. Every once in a while some idiot would yell out to it, usually something along the lines of, "come on you fat piece of shit, get your asses movie and kill the Italians." Is this honestly what muggles do for fun… it was vile.

I opted for one of the empty wooden stools under the counter.

A bartender – who looked to be in her early twenties – started to make her way over to me. She looked amiable enough; a sweet and innocent smile graced her young face, and a messy bun of black hair rested atop her head.

"What can I get for you?" she said in a light, airy voice. Something about her reminded me of the little girl I had met in the park today… of Emma… my Emma… my daughter.

I moaned and slammed my head down onto the table, "The strongest stuff you have," I mumbled, my voice muffled by my arm.

"Sure thing sweat pea." Reaching behind her, she pulled a bottle of bourbon from a shelf and poured an ample amount into a medium sized cup. "Here you are, it looks like you could use this."

The alcohol burned my throat in an oddly bittersweet way as it slid down my throat. "You have no idea…"

"Well then, why don't you enlighten me?"

"It's a long story."

"I've got time." She placed the bottle next to my cup and propped her elbows up onto the counter, "Anyway, it's my job. They won't need me out there. I'm Olivia, by the way."

"Draco." I said with a slight nod of the head. For a few seconds all I did was stare at the gilded contents of my cup as I swirled it around and took another sip. It still burned, though slightly less. "I just found out I'm a father." Saying it out loud did no more to sedate me than it would have if I had just kept it to myself. Wasn't saying things out loud supposed to help, remove the weight that had been sitting on my chest?

No, it was still there, as heavy as ever.

Her smile warmed a bit and widened, "Congratulations. So what's got you so down?"

"She's… five. I just met her." It flattered.

"Oh, dear Lord. Here, have some more." More bourbon appeared in my glass… bless her soul, "How did you find out."

"I saw them in the park, Emma – that's her name, my daughter, that is – was lost and I helped her. I didn't even realize… but she looks… just like me. And then Hermione, she just walked away from me, but I can't really blame her. After what I did I'd be damned if she ever talked to me again."

"What did you do?" Olivia whispered, dark eyes soft yet curious.

I snorted in a sarcastic way, "Isn't it a little obvious? I left, right after I promised her that I would never leave. And to make matters worse, I left her pregnant and alone. I can see why she didn't exactly come running with arms wide open."

"I'm assuming you loved her, right?" I nodded – what did that have to do with anything, "But tell me, was it love, big love, or great love?"

"What do you mean?"

She sighed and straightened up so she wasn't leaning on the counter anymore, a small piece of hair escaped the confines of her bun and she quickly put it back into place. "Love you get over in two months, big love you get over in two years, and, well, great love… great love changes your life... So which one is it?" I didn't answer her; I couldn't even look her in the eye. I knew which one it was. So I took the easy way out, raising my half empty glass to my mouth, "Oh my, it's great love."

That's just great.

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

My answer was harsh; much more so then I had meant it to be, "You think if I knew I would be here right now?" I finished my glass and she gave me more. "Neither of us had any idea what to expect when we returned home. Our families didn't really like each other, so to speak. We were really planning on just winging it."

"Maybe that's exactly what you need to do. 'Wing it'. Listen, you obviously love her, so go get her back."

"It's a little late now." I spoke into my glass.

"You can't know that unless you try. Tell me, what's the worst that can happen? She'll say no? Sure it'll hurt, but at least then you will know. You have to fight for her, Draco. If you love her, you will fight for her. Because if you don't, what's the point? It'll only hurt you."

"Olivia," some man standing in a doorway towards the back of the room called, "we need you."

She turned around and yelled out that she would be right there and then faced me again. With a sympathetic smile, she said, "You'll figure it out, I know you will. Anyway, the thing about romance is that people only get together right at the very end."

Then she left.

And I was alone.

It seemed to be a pattern in my life.

She was right, of course. The worst Hermione could do was say no, but I didn't think that that I could handle the rejection.

Not being with her hurt, the fear that I would never have her killed me. So either way I looked at it, I was just in pain. I was being a coward again, and Hermione doesn't need – nor does she want – a coward. What she needed was someone strong, someone to protect her… and Emma.

All anybody wants in life is to be loved, but the way I see it, love only leads to heart ache. And if love always leads to heart ache, then what's the point? Why should we go searching for something that is only going to hurt us more then when we were alone? Sure you can sugar coat it, romanticize it, draw a bunch of fat babies shooting heart-shaped arrows and give it a holiday, but once that initial excitement fades, what are you left with besides memories that are too painful to look back on?

When you love somebody, truly love them with every fiber of your being, you leave yourself vulnerable, and that's the most terrifying part. And no one person wants to experience that much pain, so they just close their hearts up and keep the pain or the love from ever entering.

But I had let my heart open, and now I couldn't close it back up. I had a taste of love, and it was addicting. It pulled you in and held you, so that you couldn't so much as breath unless your other half was with you. Maybe that's what really causes the heart ache.

Merlin, now I was confusing myself.

I could speculate and overanalyze it all I wanted, but what it all came down to was that it hurt.

What a sick masochist I was.

And there was only one way I knew that could effectively remove the pain.

So I took another drink.

…………………

"More." I demanded.

"I can't give you anymore," Said the grizzly bear-of-a-man in front of me. "You've had three drinks more than the house limit. You either have to leave, or you have to stop drinking."

I had this warm, tingly feeling pulsating throughout my body. But I didn't want to be warm, I wanted to be numb. I wanted to drink myself numb.

Numb was easier.

Everything around me was hazy; most people no longer had any true shape, they were more like colorful moving blobs, blurred beyond recognition.

I still needed more.

The smart thing would probably have been to stop about five glasses ago, but I couldn't. It was like giving the elixir of life to a dying man. Once you've given them a little, it's impossible to stop.

Why couldn't he just give me one more bloody glass?

"Listen, you half-wit-fruitcake," I snarled, attempting to rise from my seat but failing out of dizziness, "Tonight has been by far the shittiest night ever, and now my life is completely fucked up. All I would like is one more damn drink so that I can pass out peacefully. Is that too much to ask for?"

All the alcohol I had consumed was slowing down my reactions and retarding my thoughts, and I couldn't act quickly enough as Grizzly-man's face turned beat red and he lunged forward, grabbing my shirt collar. He yanked me forward and out of my seat, stopping dangerously close to his face.

"I said, you're done." He released my shirt and pushed me backwards. Had I been sober, I could have caught myself, but instead I just tumbled onto the floor. "Now beat it or I'm going to call security."

I stood up a little shakily and walked out with as much dignity as I could muster. It wasn't very much. Now where could I go? I wanted to go to Hermione and have her take care of me, tell me that everything was going to work out, but I don't think she'd take too kindly to me showing up intoxicated.

My mother was out of the question too; I didn't want to be fussed over.

Which left… since when did I have no friends…me, Draco Malfoy, most popular boy in Slytherin and probably the entire school.

Wait a second, I still had Blaise. Good old Blaise. He'd talk to me now; how could I have been so stupid to forget him?

The streets were cold and wet in the very early morning hours. It had to be at least four or five. I'm not too sure, reading my watch was making me dizzy. In fact, everything was making me dizzy even though nothing seemed to be moving.

I puked in a garbage can… or I think it was a garbage can.

Now my only problem was getting to Blaise. I couldn't fly for risk of getting a FWI, plus I didn't even have my broom. Apparating was too dangerous too, I would probably splinch, and I kind of needed all my limbs.

Somewhere down the street I could just barely make out a street lamp in the blurred darkness. I dragged my drunken ass towards it and laid down on the small wooden bench underneath it.

I puked again, this time over the side.

The hard wood was cold against my cheek and uncomfortable. How the hell was I going to get out of here? I was so close to crying… I've never cried in my entire life. Even when my father died, I didn't cry. But now, I wanted to cry. I didn't care anymore; I didn't care about my reputation, or my family's name and money… I just didn't care.

So I let myself cry. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but all of a sudden I was filled with this sense of such self-hate and utter grief, like it would never go away. It was such a powerful emotion, stronger than anything I had ever felt in my life. I didn't know how to handle it.

God, this was so unlike me. It was like I was turning into a freaking girl.

Come on, Draco, man up. Crying isn't going to fix anything.

I sat up a bit too quickly and wiped the tears out of my eyes and then started to massage my temples. God damnit, I needed to get to Blaise already. He would know what to – holly fucking hell! He knew! Why didn't I notice before, the asshole knew. It was so obvious between all of his cryptic 'responsibility' crap. I was going to kill the bastard. I slapped myself in the forehead out of stupidity.

Ouch. Not the best idea.

My head was still pounding, when some kind of obnoxious flashing bright lights and honking horns started coming from down the street. It wasn't helping at all.

When I looked up, a large, purple, triple-decker bus screeched to a stop in front of me, and a pimply-faced, scrawny kid I knew to be Stan Shunpike stepped out.

He started speaking in a bored voice, "Hello, my name is Stan Shunpike and I'll be your conductor–" I cut him off; his voice was awfully irritating and doing nothing for my pounding head.

"Will you please, for the love of Merlin, shut up, you zit-faced-half-wit. I honestly don't care who you are or what you do so long as you get me to where I want to be." Okay so maybe that was a little harsh, but he really was annoying. He looked a little shocked but I continued, "Now are you just going to stand there and gawk at me, or are you going to move aside and let me on the damn bus?"

Timidly, he moved aside and I stumbled up the steps, pushing past. His voice was shaky as he followed behind me, "Wha-what can I-I do fo-for you Mr.-Mr. Malfoy?" This guy really needed to grow a backbone, even though I was kind of glad to see someone still afraid of me tonight. It was a real ego booster, I'll tell you that much.

"I need to go to Zabini Manor, now." I demanded, my words slightly slurred. Hopefully he wouldn't pick up on it."

"Ye-yes of course… ste-step on it Ernie." The old man with poor vision (why in the world he was driving a bus if he could barely see, beats me) pulled some levers and the bus shot forward. I lost my balance, again, and fell onto one of the beds, and they rolled across the floor with each turn of the bus. It was a little ridiculous; they should really nail them to the floor. All the sharp movements were making me want to be sick again.

Zit-boy approached me, this time with a small slip of paper in his hand. He hesitantly held it out and I swiped it from between his fingers. Not even bothering to look at the price I dug my hand into my pockets and pulled out a handful of money, dumping it into his greasy hands. When he saw how much I had given him, his face brightened a little, but he immediately covered it up, retreating back to the front of the bus.

I tried to brace myself as it came skidding to a halt, but it was to no avail, and I was flung forward once again. Mumbling to myself, I brushed past Stan and ran off the bus, releasing the contents of my stomach into a nearby bush. There couldn't possibly be anything left in there now.

Zabaini Manor held an air of ominous importance even at night, but it could no longer scare me. A wrought iron gate, almost twice as tall as me, stood at the beginning of the long passageway covered in wisteria and vines, and surrounded on both sides by think hedges. And it was locked.

Ah fuck.

I could feel the anger bubbling up inside of me; I needed to yell at Blaise, now. The selfish bastard knew everything and yet he still kept everything to himself. Even when he could see I was clearly suffering. Hundreds of ways in which I could murder Blaise swarm through my clouded brain, and with each passing thought my hand would curl slightly more into a fist until the only think I had to do to alleviate my anger was to punch the gate.

And I think I broke my hand. But at least now there was slightly less pain, and the less pain I felt the more numb I could be.

It was still dark outside, though I doubted it would stay that way much longer. Blaise and Astoria were probably sleeping, and though I could have just sat there on the ground and waited for him to leave for work in a few hours, I didn't want to.

"BLAISE ZABINI." I yelled, banging my fists on the gate, "YOU GET YOUR NO-GOOD, BLOODY RETARTED, WANKER ASS OUT HERE RIGHT NOW." Nothing happened, "I'M SERIOUS, YOU GIT. OPEN THE DAMN GATE OR I'LL BLOW IT OPEN."

And still nothing happened. But just as I was reaching for my wand, a room in the front of the Manor was illuminated, and there was a slight movement of one of the curtains, and a dark head of hair poked out of the window. "Draco, mate? Is that you? What the fuck are you doing here; it's four thirty in the bloody morning. Can't this wait?" His voice was still groggy from sleep, and I had to strain my ears to hear him.

"JUST OPEN THE GATE ALREADY. LET ME THE FUCK IN." I was starting to get cold. Blaise turned around so I couldn't see his face anymore, no doubt talking to Astoria to see whether or not he should let the crazed drunk in the house or leave him outside. I vote for in. "ASTORIA, I'M SORRY I WOKE YOU, BUT PLEASE LET ME IN THE GODDAMN HOUSE. I'M FREEZING MY EFFING ARSE OFF OUT HERE."

He looked back at me and hung his head, giving it a slight shake, "Alright already, no need to shout, we heard you the first time. You can come in, meet me in the study, I'll get a house elf to show you the way."

The gate creaked open as Blaise closed the window, and I ambled up the path leisurely, in all my drunken glory… I probably looked like a nut-job. A small, shaky house elf opened the door for me and I followed it into Blaise's large study. The room was lit by a large fireplace on the far wall, next to it sat Blaise in a plush armchair. "So, to what do I owe this lovely little pleasure this fine morning?" he said with a yawn, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Draco, your eye is twitching… are you… drunk?"

I didn't want to talk small talk with him, so I just kept yelling, "You knew! You knew all this time and you didn't tell me! You didn't even mention it in a Goddamn letter, every single time I asked you how she was, and you didn't even think to tell me!"

"Tell you what?" His face was suddenly hard.

"Don't give me that shit, Zabini. And don't say you didn't know either, she looks JUST LIKE ME." I collapsed into a chair, putting my head back into my hands. Oh God, here come the sissy-girl waterworks; they fell in buckets into my hands. "Everyone knew, you, Pansy – the whole fucking world – but me."

Blaise got out of his seat and sat down in the chair next to me, placing an awkward hand on my shoulder. "How did you… how did you find out?"

The hiccups had started. "I-hiccup ran in-hiccup-to her in-hiccup the-hiccup park to-hiccup-day. Sh-She was-hiccup lost-hiccup."

"Oh, well… have you talked to Hermione yet?"

"Does it look like I have? Why, Blaise, why? If you had just told me, I would have come back… I would have come back." There was nothing I could do to control my tears anymore, and they fell freely out of my eyes. What was I becoming? First I was a monster – I still am a monster – now I'm some sissy cry baby who can't keep himself together.

Blaise's hand dropped from my shoulder and he stood up violently, "That shouldn't have been your only reason to come back, Draco. You should have come because you wanted to. If you really loved Hermione as much as you say you do, THEN YOU WOULD HAVE COME BACK." His sudden and unexpected outburst shocked me, and I wasn't sure what to say. "Gods Draco, how many effing times do I have to tell you this? It's like talking to a wall; you never seem to get it! What do you want me to do, pity you? I'm sorry, mate, but I'm out of pity. This is your responsibility, your fault, and now you have to deal with the consequences. You're a grown man, start acting like one!"

I just stared at him. Never, in my entire life, has Blaise ever yelled at me like that before… I-I didn't know what to say or do except stare. All the anger inside of me had dissipated after my little batch of cathartic yelling, and now I felt numb.

And I was right… numb felt great.

"Listen," Blaise said, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, "you can stay here for the rest of the night… or morning… but this is the last time I let you dump all that self-loathing shit on me. It's your problem, deal with it."

Another shy house self appeared as Blaise left the room, and I followed dumbly behind it as it lead me through the great house and to one of the lavish guest rooms.

Honestly though, I was so tired I could have slept on one of couches in the parlor.

The bed looked so inviting and comfortable, and I got undressed as it called me without thinking and slipped under the covers

And I blew out the light.

AN: So… what did you think? It wasn't my favorite chapter. It may have seemed a little bit all over the place and ADD, but he is drunk, but I hope you liked it. After all, that's what matters :) Review, Review, Review and you'll get a sneak peak! I now have all the free time in the world to write, but again because I feel so bad about keeping it for so long, I'm opening questions back up. Come on guys, take advantage of that ;)

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Next Chapter: Six Years Ago (LEMON)