Whiskey Lullaby

Disclaimer: I don\'t own this. JK Rowling does.

WARNING: CHARACTER DEATH!! IF YOU DON\'T LIKE IT WHEN THE CHARACTERS DIE, DON\'T READ! IF YOU DO READ, DON\'T FLAME ME...YOU\'VE BEEN WARNED!!!

A/N: To my lovely reviewers...

Halo-Babe: Thanks for the review. I hate that I almost made you cry because I too am one of those people who doesn\'t cry easily when it comes to reading stuff. But then again, I guess I really was hoping to evoke great saddness and loss with this fic, so your reaction is a good one. *grins* All of my other fics are very fluffy, so you are more than welcome to read them to put a smile on your face. *wink wink, nudge nudge* LOL!!

pinkyheather: I appreciate your review! Honestly, I\'m generally not very good at making people sad or angry when I write. I hate that you teared up!!! Most of my fics are fluffy to the point that you think \'Awww...that\'s so sweet I want to vomit.\'

robin777: I agree, the song is really, really pretty. This sad little bunny has been running around for a while. I finally gave in and wrote it so I could unroll my jeans. Little bugger cried me a river!!

destiny black: *muah* Yes, yes, yes, it\'s your Sevvie! But, that dirty bitch is getting what\'s coming to her for driving him to an early grave. *wink*


The rumors flew but nobody knew how much she blamed herself.
For years and years, she tried to hide the whiskey on her breath.
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: 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.
We found her with her face down in the pillow,
Clinging to his picture for dear life.
We laid her next to him beneath the willow,
While the angels sang a whiskey lullaby.


Hermione sat on her couch reading. Her waist length hair was tied in a loose knot at the nape of her neck, letting the rest hang down. She kept it long because her lover had a thing for long hair.

She was shaken from her concentration by a tentative knock at her door. When she opened it, it was the last person she expected to see.

“Oh, it’s you. What do you want?” She asked flatly.

“I want to talk to you.”

Hermione sighed knowing that this conversation would eventually have to be had. She tucked her emotions away and steeled her nerves. “Maybe you should have thought about that three weeks ago when you started avoiding me. The time for talking has passed.”

Allowing her eyes to betray only the pain and anger she felt, she stared up at him. “Three years, Severus: that’s how long you’ve been treating me as your whore. You really are the heartless bastard Harry and Ron thought you were while we were in school. I’ve tried to get close to you, to get you to open up, and in three years all it’s gotten me is heart break after heart break. Don’t come back. Don’t come back wanting to talk; don’t come back thinking I’ll be your whore another day. I won’t. I’m finished with you.”

She slammed the door not allowing him to explain himself. After warding it, she slid down the oak frame and cried. She’d been dreading this moment for three weeks. It had been that long since she’d stared into those beautiful black eyes. It had been that long since he even looked her way.

Hermione was desperately in love with the dour man, and had been for almost the entirety of the three years she’d been sleeping with him. The young witch did everything in her power to get him to open up, but to no avail. He would summon her to his chambers, have his way with her, and if he let her stay with him, he would make sure that she flooed directly to her rooms the next morning.
She came to herself, sitting in the floor and angrily wiped her face. “I will not allow him to get to me!”

She busied herself until it was time for bed and slept fitfully. The next morning, Hermione performed a severing charm on her long hair. She bobbed it off just below her chin into something a little more manageable.

All of the professors were at breakfast, save one. Hermione sat back with a smug look on her face at the empty chair. In the coming days and weeks, the few times she dared to glance at Severus, he looked almost hollow to her. Still, she smirked to herself.

It wasn’t until the students started talking about the changes in their potions master that the smirk was wiped completely off of her face. She heard the rumors that he was ill, terminally so. She scoffed at the wild accusations of his being bit by a werewolf. Hermione knew the reason. It worried her.

She watched as he turned into a hollow shell of a man. It broke her heart to know that the man she loved so completely had become what he had because of her. Her stubbornness is the only thing that kept her from going to him. Her pride stopped her more than one time from intervening.

The day after the children went home for the summer, Hermione was packing what she would need for the summer. She was almost ready to floo to Harry and Ron’s house in Godric’s Hollow when Dumbledore’s head appeared in her hearth. “I need you to go to my office immediately,” was all he said before he was gone.

The young Charms teacher knew by his tone that there was something terribly wrong. She hurried to the stone gargoyle and up the stairs. She was met by every teacher at the school, save Minerva and Albus. It was not long before the two arrived.

They clung to each other as they made their way into the office. Both of their faces were red and tear streaked. Dumbledore conjured a small sofa and sat McGonagall down before sitting beside her with his arm firmly around her shoulders.

“I have some terrible news,” he said through his sniffles. “I went to check on Severus this morning because he’s not been well. I found him on his bed,” Dumbledore’s voice broke and he let out a sob.

Taking a steadying breath, he continued, “I found him lying on his bed this morning. He passed on sometime last night.”

Minerva began to cry again and Dumbledore stifled another sob. The other members of the staff looked to the Headmaster and Deputy Head Mistress with emotions ranging from sorrow to utter confusion on their faces.

The news hit Hermione squarely in the chest. She began to pant and gasp for air. Once she got her breathing under control, she let out a wail to rival a banshee’s. It was only a moment before she threw off the comforting hands and ran back to her quarters.

She threw herself on her four-poster bed and sobbed. She lay there with a million thoughts flying through her head, most of which were things she could have done had she not been so prideful.

Several hours later, Harry stepped through the floo to find the young witch. He saw her trunk lying before the hearth, and every candle was extinguished in her rooms. Her friend called out to her, but got no answer. He drew his wand and slowly walked into her room to find her thrashing about in her sleep.

Her eyes were puffy and her face red from crying and she was having a nightmare. Harry wrapped her up in his arms and began to talk to her, begging her to wake. She did almost immediately and choked out one word, “Severus.”

Harry, with his arms still firmly wrapped around her said, “No, Herm, it’s Harry.”

She pulled back and looked at her friend of over ten years as the tears welled up in her eyes. “He’s…he’s…it’s my fault!” She wailed.

Her body racking sobs were only muffled by Harry’s now wet t-shirt. Confused, the young wizard put his cheek on the top of her head. “Is there something wrong with him Herm?”

She didn’t even raise her head when she whispered, “I killed him.”

Harry jerked her back from his chest. “Do what?!” He asked almost screaming.

Her tears flowed freely again, and she recounted the last few months to her friend. Harry held her and told her it wasn’t her fault, even though she blamed herself.

He took her back to his house and fire called Dumbledore to let the old wizard know. Funeral arrangements had already been made by this time and he let Harry know when to be there.

Two days later, Ron assisted Harry in escorting Hermione to the funeral. She dressed in her blackest robes of pure silk, much like a widow, and leaned heavily on her two friends. She remained hysterical throughout the service while her companions carried very worried looks.

There were not many on the grounds of the school that day. Members of the Order, most of the Weasley’s, the majority of the staff, and Draco Malfoy were in attendance. He looked very gaunt, and stood there with cold indifference on his face. Many people would have thought he loathed the potions master were it not for the tears running down his face.

Upon returning to the Hollow, Harry and Ron tried to force Hermione to take a calming draught, but that stirred her up more. Finally, Ron had the brilliant idea to get her sloppy drunk and let her pass out.

With the first shot of fire whiskey, she knew. She knew what it was going to take for her to forget. She spent the whole summer with bottle after bottle of fire whiskey hidden under her bed. If things got too bad, she’d just slip into her room and grab a swig or two. She’d do a mouth cleaning charm afterward, of course. It wouldn’t do to have her friends thinking she was an alcoholic.

By the end of summer, she’d lost quite a bit of weight, and it was obvious that her sleep was drug induced. When it was time to go back to Hogwarts, she performed a glamour on herself. Hermione couldn’t have her colleagues thinking she’d lost it over the summer.

Her drinking got worse after she got back to the school. She stopped sleeping altogether, and she ate little to nothing. Halloween morning, she did not show up for class. Poppy flooed to her room to see if she was too ill to get out when she found her.

Immediately, she called Dumbledore and he stepped through the hearth. “What is it, Poppy?”

The medi-witch just stood there shaking her head and pointing to the couch. “She knew,” was all she could say.

They looked at the rigid form of Hermione lying on the couch clutching a picture of Severus Snape. Had her lips not been blue, and her skin faintly tinged the same color, she would have appeared to be sleeping.

Dumbledore sighed as the tears welled up in his eyes. “Not again,” he whispered.

He canceled classes for the day and called the staff up to his office. Harry and Ron flooed in, also. After everyone arrived, Dumbledore sat behind his desk and wiped his face. “It is a sad day indeed here at Hogwarts. Almost five months ago we lost the greatest potions master in the last century to a broken heart. Last night, we lost a young witch who was well on her way to writing her own place in charms history. When Hermione did not show up for her classes today, Poppy found her lying on her couch clutching a picture. She passed beyond the veil last night some time. It appears that she also died of a broken heart.”

Harry and Ron both sat there speechless. Ron shook his head and Harry began to cry along with most of the other teachers. No one saw this coming. Hermione hid her pain much better than Severus.
Two days later, they lay her in the ground. Her funeral was that of a heroine. She contributed much to the wizarding world in the short time she was there. Both of her best friends blamed themselves for not seeing what was going on. As they placed her casket beside Severus’ under the Womping Willow, it began to rain.

No one saw the two ethereal beings, one dark, and one light, join hands behind the tombstones and walk toward the forest.

A/N2: Ok, if you can\'t tell by that last line, I just can\'t do the whole sad, sad story. That and I love Sev so much, I had to give him a little peace. Please review if you liked my story. Hell, flame me if you want, I need some more to put in my cauldron at Imbolc anyway. *giggles*