-Note from Shinosuke-

Blah blah blah, no attention span. I felt the urge to write something else and so I am. Read it. Or else!

Or else… uh… the rabid fangirls will get you? Oh you are the rabid fangirls. Hmmm.. I'll think of something. XD

-Disclaimer-

If I owned Harry Potter and all of the characters do you think that I'd be here? It's called fanfiction for a reason folks.

Falling

Chapter 1

It was an accident. One great big mishap as most things pertaining to Harry Potter always are. Yes, it was an accident. Or at least it had started that way. But the accident had turned to impulse. And Harry was simply too smashed to refuse his impulses. Harry never really drank before, but tonight was the exception.

He'd talked to Dumbledore earlier that day and been told that because of the escalating war, it would not be safe for Harry to return to school next year. So even though this was only his sixth year. It would be his last. The finality of that was staggering. Hogwarts was really the only home he'd ever known. And after this year he'd never be able to return. Not as a student at least.

It was a deep blow. Deeper than Harry wanted to admit. After this year he wouldn't be a child anymore. He wouldn't be able to cling to the naïve thoughts and feelings of youth. He'd have to grow up. Face the harsh reality of a war that he never asked for.

After he'd gotten back from talking with Dumbledore, He'd been sitting in the common room. Seamus was talking about the time he'd gotten really drunk or something. Harry wasn't really paying attention. He hardly did anymore. He just sat with his normal expression on his face, added a few noncommittal replies here and there, and everyone left him alone.

Of course he wasn't lonely. He was sure he wasn't, or at least he was trying to convince himself he wasn't. And that was good enough. Though he was starting to understand what the weird looking chick from movie Titanic had been talking about. About screaming in a crowded room, and no one even glances in your direction. It was one of his aunt Petunia's favorites and he frequently had to listen to it from his room.

In any case, Harry was convinced that he was fine…mostly. But then again… Here he was sitting in the middle of a group of his friends and he could hardly relate to them. Talking about their carefree parties and enjoying their freedom and youth. It struck Harry that he'd never really had that; he'd never really even been drunk before. He'd never really done a lot of things.

It seemed as though his childhood had been rudely snatched out from under his feet. And he deserved some fun god damn it. He deserved a little happiness before he spent the rest of his life chasing after Voldemort. So he made a spur of the moment decision. He'd do all the things he'd never done before. Everyone else had been doing tons more than him, anyway. First thing on his list: get stinking drunk.

He went up to his bed and rummaged through his trunk till he found the present he had gotten for Sirius. He had kept it over the summer and held it since then, not sure what to do with it. But now he finally had a purpose for the long neglected gift. Obviously, Sirius couldn't do much with it now… It was a bottle of fire whiskey. But the glass was thick and dark like a wine bottle. And the best part, it never emptied, so long as you never looked down the neck of it.

Harry stared at the bottle for a moment and he felt the shimmer of magic go through the air. He'd felt this sort of thing before. The kind of feeling that this decision was pivotal to his future. But he was too bitter with the way things were currently to really care. He pulled off the cap and took a deep swig straight from the bottle.

The alcohol burned all the way down his throat before settling in his stomach, slowly warming him from the inside out.

Feeling much too silly sitting in his room alone with a bottle of whiskey, he headed out to walk the halls. Even though it was past curfew, he was already breaking one rule by drinking at school. If he was going to hell, he might as well do it thoroughly.

Hardly anyone even looked up at him as he left the common room. And no one questioned him.

He knew where he was heading. He'd found that place by accident as well. He'd been heading back from the owlery after sending off a letter when he heard Filch coming up the stairs. In a panic he'd ducked into a small alcove that he'd never noticed before. There was a door.

He glanced over his shoulder only once before opening it and going inside. It was a quiet little circular room. The floor was like mosaic of odd shaped dark flat stones that somehow fit together in a circular pattern. It had an arched ceiling that seemed much too high to be possible with wooden rafters crisscrossing back and forth. And a large beautiful window that over looked the grounds. The window even had a long, low window seat.

Harry was more than proud of his find, but he didn't tell anyone. Not even Ron and Hermione. It would be his little secret.

And so Harry was sure no one would be there now. He thought he'd probably already drank more than a bottle of Fire whiskey. But it kept refilling so he couldn't be sure.

His head felt light and he couldn't really feel his feet on the ground anymore. But still he continued up to his secret tower room.

When he got there he stumbled and opened the door clumsily. He was surprised to see a pale figure sitting at the window seat, outlined by the moonlight. At first he thought he must be dreaming. Or hallucinating. But no, Draco Malfoy really was sitting there, staring down at a piece of parchment in his hands.

"Malfoy?" Harry asked incredulously.

Draco gasped and whipped his head around to see who it was.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Potter?" he said conspicuously wiping at his eyes.

Draco Malfoy? Crying? You've got to be kidding… Harry thought as he stumbled forward.

"I could ask you the same." Harry mumbled still in disbelief.

"Yeah well it's none of your goddamned business. Get out."

"No." Harry said firmly before going to sit on the opposite side of the long, stone window seat.

Draco sneered at him venomously. Harry shrugged him off. He had bigger fish to fry than Malfoy. Their childhood rivalry was old news and really not worth the effort now that Voldemort was back and gaining strength every day. Harry glanced down and saw that Draco too was nursing a bottle of alcohol. But his looked like an expensive wine of some sort.

Harry scoffed at the frilly labeled bottle and took a swig from his own.

"So the Golden Boy is on a drinking binge, hm?" Draco jeered.

"And if I am?" Harry countered.

Draco shrugged, "What the fuck does it matter to me anyway. But I'm glad to know I can always trust a Gryffindor to ruin every good thing I ever have. Thanks a fucking lot." He said standing as though to leave.

"Whatever, Malfoy. You've been a bastard since your first day here. If I've interrupted your emotional alone time consider it karma."

Draco puffed up indignantly, "I was not having 'emotional alone time'. I came here to think."

and cry like a girl… Harry thought. He didn't say it though. He was too busy drinking again.

"Actually," Draco said sitting back down determinedly, "I was here first, you leave."

"I'm not going anywhere. Ignore me for all I care."

Draco was silent for a long while. Harry almost thought he was really ignoring him before he spoke again. This time in surprisingly less hostile tones.

"Can I have some of that?" He said referring to Harry's fire whiskey.

"Why? You've got your own."

"I swiped this from Snape's office. A gift I believe and not very alcoholic. It's all gone anyway."

Harry was a little taken aback by how civil Draco was being. And he was too drunk to reason very much but he decided, what the hell. It's not like I'll ever see the bastard again. This is my last year.

"Sure." Harry slurred out as he handed the whiskey to Draco, "But don't look down the neck of the bottle."

Draco raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow in question before tilting his head back and taking a long drink.

"Thanks, Potter." He said sliding the bottle over the smooth stones back to Harry.

"Don't say I never gave you anything." Harry joked.

It occurred to him that he was alone with Draco Malfoy, his hated enemy. It occurred to him that he probably shouldn't be here. He probably should have left as soon as he realized someone else was here. But it also occurred to him that that would be his normal reaction. Go back to the common room and be the perfect Golden Boy for all his fans.

But where was the adventure in that?

"So what's this all about? Granger dump you?"

Harry scowled, "No. I just decided that I was going to do all of the things I've never done before. Getting shitfaced being the first on my list."

Draco chuckled a little, "So what else haven't you done?"

"Lots of things."

"Name one."

"Well, I've personally never pleasured a Hippogriff, but that's not on my to-do list." Harry said exasperated at Draco's quick questions.

Draco giggled and Harry couldn't help but laugh at him, not with him. Draco Malfoy was a giggly drunk. How hilarious was that? Of all the sounds and words he expected to come from those pure blood lips, that girlishly cute giggle had not been it.

And they continued drinking, having somehow temporarily put aside their animosity. Harry hardly tasted the alcohol anymore. He didn't really care what he did. This was his last year. His last year as himself. Next year, he'd become the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Fight-Voldemort. Everything he did now wouldn't matter later.

Harry felt a wave of depression settling over him. He felt suddenly very alone and helpless. Draco seemed to notice the change in his demeanor but said nothing. Harry was grateful for that. It seemed as though all of his emotions about his life and war were welling up in his chest. He tried to control it but he felt it was dangerously close to breaking free and flooding him entirely.

So even though Draco was a giggly drunk, Harry was apparently an emotional one.

He felt such an acute sense of worthlessness that he nearly whimpered. What was left of his life exactly? He would most likely die trying to fight Voldemort. And even if he didn't, what would he do? He wasn't very good at any one thing in particular. He'd thought about being an Auror. But was the point of that if Voldemort was dead?

All his life, he was a nobody, and even now he was just a famous nobody. No one cared anything about him as a person. And the entire wizarding the world, the world that he'd thought was so much better than living with the Dursley's, was more than content to watch him die for their benefit.

Even when he did, they would only mourn the loss of Harry Potter: The boy-who-lived. Not Harry Potter, the boy who could lose at wizards chess like no other and still laughed at stupid, worn out jokes. No one knew him for who he really was, beyond the cover of fame, behind his defenses. Hell, Harry himself hardly knew who he was, let alone how to explain it to the world.

So he wouldn't. He'd just smile and bravely fight and die like any good hero should. Right?

"What's wrong?" Draco asked quietly.

Harry turned to look at Draco and he was shocked to see genuine concern in his silvery blue eyes. Harry laughed bitterly and shook his head.

"Just thinking. It's like my life has been snatched away… Stupid fucking Voldemort…" Harry muttered.

Draco was silent for a moment before he turned to look out the window with a bitter look of his own, "Tell me about it…"

"I just… I feel so stupid. And so completely alone. Like if a robot took my place no one would notice."

"What's a robot?" Draco asked.

Harry sighed dramatically, "Never mind."

Draco scooted closer to Harry and leaned in to see his eyes. As Harry looked into Draco's sparkling silver eyes he thought Draco might say something profound. Something that would make him feel mountains better.

"Stop being such a pussy, Potter."

At first Harry was offended but he realized quickly that that was the exact response he needed. What else would Draco say? If he'd tried to comfort him and empathize it would have just pissed Harry off further.

Harry needed a firm response. And that's what he got. And he was surprised at how much better he felt. The words hadn't solved any of his problems but they made him feel better. Mostly because he knew none of his friends would have ever said something like that. And yet it was exactly what Harry needed.

Harry chewed his bottom lip. Draco's face was just too close to his… it was making him a little uncomfortable. But he didn't move away.

"Here's something else I'm sure you haven't done." Draco whispered.

The next thing Harry knew, lips were attached to his.