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Whiskey Lullaby by TheTruthAboutForever
Chapter 1 : It Wasn't Enough
 
Rating: 15+Chapter Reviews: 8


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A/N: I own nothing but the plot
The beautiful song belongs to the wonderful brad Paisley






He sat at his desk late one evening; swirling the contents of his drink around and around in his crystal cup. He stared at it intently, lost in his thoughts as the liquid sloshed over the round edge, sending a thin line of the bitter sweetness dripping down the back of his hand.

He subconsciously lifted his hand to his lips, sipping up the spilled liquid.
He let out a sigh, leaning his head back into his leather chair.
Whiskey; it was always his best friend in times of need.

She put him out like the burnin’ end of a midnight cigarette 

He clenched his teeth together at the thought of the source of his drinking. Downing the last of the liquid in the cup he removed himself from his chair and made his way to his bedroom.

He stumbled out of his office, banging into the large oak door that stood ajar. Giggling madly to himself he made his was across the floor to the stairs, finally sinking to his knees upon the last step.

It was a familiar routine.
Every night was like this.
It began the night she left.

She broke his heart

He leaned forward resting his head back upon the steps his laughter ringing through the empty halls of his mansion.

“Everything’s so much louder when you’re alone.” He laughed to himself.

He pulled himself to his feet and climbed the stairs slowly, laughing all the way. As he reached the top steps, he caught sight of a familiar picture and suddenly his manic laughter had turned into sobs of grief, of a love lost.

He spent his whole life tryin’ to forget

Her shining brown eyes gazed upon him with love and warmth, a look he could never forget; would not forget.

“Love, where have you gone.” He whispered to the picture, tracing his fingers down the side of her face. “Why did you go?”

Tears freely fell upon his pale and pointed face. He ran a hand through his golden hair, shuddering slightly. He couldn’t stand the sight of her face anymore; couldn’t deal with the pain.

He gave the picture one last glance and moved to his bedroom, shutting himself inside and locking the door.

We watched him drink his pain away

Upon entering his bedroom he quickly moved to his bedside table, removing a familiar bottle from the drawer.

“Hello old friend” he said as he sat down upon his bed.

A little at a time

Popping the bottle he took a swig, sighing in relief at the familiar burning sensation.

“You’ll never leave me will you?” He cooed softly to the bottle, stroking it lightly.

But he never could get drunk enough
He sat there and drank, only slowing to let out a sob; a floating thought of a past memory. Coming to the end of the bottle, empty of its contents he absent mindedly tossed it towards the corner. The sound of glass upon glass diverted his blank gaze from the bare white wall and to the corner of his room. Bottle after bottle laid discarded in the corner. Bits and pieces of broken glass shining in the dimly lit room.

He removed himself from his bed walking to his dresser.

“What have you become?” he asked the reflection in the mirror. “Why have you done this to yourself?”

And the answer came to him, in the form of another. There she was again, those same shining eyes, the same warm smile.

To get her off his mind

“You,” He whispered harshly, ripping the picture from his mirror. “Why won’t you leave me?”

He suddenly let out a ferocious roar and brought his fist to the mirror, smashing it. It was like something had been set off; the sleeping beast finally awoken. He tore around his room, destroying anything he could get his hands upon. Smashing and breaking anything he could. And finally he sank to his knees clutching the picture to his chest crying and screaming.

Until the night

“What is left,” He sobbed quietly. “When everything you’ve ever known is gone?”

He climbed to his knees slowly, clutching the picture still. And he moved to his dresser once more, pulling an object from the top drawer.

“Who would have thought that you would come in handy?” He whispered to the black, cold piece of metal in his hands. “I guess protection isn’t the only thing you provide.”

He then grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled on it quickly. Smiling at his words. He moved back to his bed and stood before the foot of the bed, clutching the paper in his hand tightly.

“It ends tonight,” He whispered finally.

He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger 
A loud shot rang out.

And finally drank away her memory 
It bounced of the walls of the room, reverberated in the halls of his home.

Life is short but this time it was bigger
Than the strength he had to get up off his knees
 

He fell forward upon the bed, a smile upon his face.

We found him with his face down in the pillow 
His clenched hand released, hanging limp over the side of the bed, the paper floating to the ground.

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

**

“Have you heard the news?” Someone whispered in her ear.

“What news?”

“He’s dead.” Abigail replied whispering.

She turned to her friend confused.

“Who’s dead?”

“Draco, Draco Malfoy.” Abigail replied. “Isn’t that something, I was so shocked…” She trailed off at the sight on her friends face. “Hey, are you alright?”

“Y-yeah.” She replied. Her hands shook against her desk. “Yeah…I-I just have to speak with Harry.” She removed herself quickly from her desk, racing out of her department.

The rumors flew
“Harry!” She cried when she was within ear shot of his office. “Harry!”

She flew into his office finding him with Ron and the minister of magic.

“Is it true?” She asked quickly, her heart racing a mile a minute.

“Hermione…” Harry trailed off.

“Is it true?” She said with force through gritted teeth.

“I’m sorry Minister could you excuse us for a minute please?” He asked. The old man nodded his head in understanding and left the room, quietly shutting the door. Ron sat down in a chair refusing to meet her eyes.

Harry leant against his desk, his head bowed down.

“Is it true?” She asked once more, her voice was becoming strained. “Is he dead?”

“Hermione, I…” He choked slightly.

She shook her head furiously. “No.”

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered.

She suddenly let out a strangled cry of pain, sinking to her knees upon his office floor. Harry raced to her side and gathered her up in his arms, rocking her back and forth as she poured her love and pain out in the open. He looked to Ron with tears in his eyes, but all Ron could do was look away.

He couldn’t stand the sight of a broken heart.

But nobody knew how much she blamed herself.

**
It had been four months since that day.
Still things weren’t the same.

She could still see his face in her mind, hear his voice. Even the cold shocking image of his coffin being lowered to the ground beneath his favorite tree could not deter him from her thoughts. She could not forget him.

For year and years 
She sat alone upon her couch in the living room of her flat. Yet again she had declined an offer of a night out on the town with her two best friends. So she sat alone with her new friend, the one she had turned to in the tough times.

“It’s all so hard,” She said to the bottle. “When you’re alone.”

She tried to hide the whiskey on her breath
She took a swig from the bottle and sighed. This is how every night had been since she heard he was dead.

Nothing was ever new.
It always stayed the same.

She finally drank her pain away

As she finished the bottle, she moved to the kitchen to retrieve another one. There was always a supply handy.

She moved from the kitchen to her hallway where she came face to face with him once more. Upon a little table sat a picture of her beloved, of the man she could never let go of. She took another sip as she moved towards the picture; it was the only one of him she had left.

A little at a time 
She smiled down on him as she grabbed the picture from the table. Tears swam in her eyes as she looked upon his smiling face, taking in the sight of his eyes, the smile that graced his face. She removed the picture from the frame and brought it to her lips, placing a light kiss upon it.

But she never could get drunk enough  

She placed the empty frame back upon the table, clutching the picture in her left hand, the bottle in her right. She entered her bedroom and shut the door, locking herself inside.

Upon entering her bedroom she made her way to her dresser, taking in the last contents of the bottle and tossing it to the side. And she sobbed loudly as she looked down upon the picture again. She opened a drawer and pulled out her own little black metal object, feeling the crushing weight of it in her small hands.

To get him off her mind

“I want you to help me the way you helped him.” She said to it running her hand lightly over it.

She moved to the foot of her bed, crying silently, clutching tightly to the picture in her hand.

Until the night 

“What is left,” She cried silently. “When everything you’ve ever known is gone.”

She put that bottle to her head and pulled the trigger

A loud shot rang out.

And finally drank away his memory

It bounced of the walls of the room, reverberated in the halls of her home.

Life is short but this time it was bigger
Than the strength she had to get up off her knees


She fell forward upon the bed, a smile upon her face.

**

“Harry!” A voice cried out in the middle of the night. “Harry!” They screamed again.

Harry woke with a start hearing the shouting and the pounding on his front door.

“Harry what’s going on?” Ginny asked him sitting up in their bed as he raced to pull on a t-shirt.

“I don’t know.” He moved out of the room into the hallway. As he walked into the living room of their home he saw Ron standing on his front porch pounding on his front door.

“Gin its Ron.” He called back to the bedroom as he moved forward to open the door.

He could hear her getting out of bed to join them as he opened the door.

“Ron what is-” He started.

We found her with her face down in the pillow 

“She’s dead” He cut him off. Harry froze. “Harry she’s dead.” He cried, tears streaming down his face.

“Harry what’s going on?” Ginny asked softly from behind him. He moved to the side stumbling into their living room, landing on the couch. “Harry what-”

She stopped as she took in the sight of Ron and the agony etched on his face.

Clinging to his picture for dear life

And then it dawned on her.
“No,” She shook her head, tears forming in her eyes. “She wouldn’t.”

“She’s gone.” Was his reply, as he shut the door. “She’s gone.”

**
The funeral was held a week later.
Friends and family gathered together to pay their last respects.

“Today,” Harry had spoken to the crowd. “Today we remember a woman, who was so very special to each and every one of us. Today is a day where we reflect on the memory of a woman who always put others before herself; a woman so caring and true.” He paused trying to choke back his tears. “ Today we pay our respects to a woman so loved.”

And they lay her down in the only place they knew she would have wanted.
Beneath her favorite tree.

We laid her next to him beneath the willow  
Beneath their tree.

The angels sang a whiskey lullaby

La la la la la la la
La la la la la la la




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