Habits (Stay High) Harry/Draco (Chapter 2/5)
Author: pollyweasley
Pairing: Harry/Draco, side Ron/Hermione, Blaise/Ginny, Pansy/Luna, Oliver/Percy
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: around 4k
Summary: He hated the clubs, hated drinking, hated the guys he danced and fell with every night, and he hated the next days. But he couldn't stop. He couldn't stop simply because being sober was much worse than being hungover. Thinking about the headache, the taste of bile and the Pansy's preach was better than the pain that was constantly there. That didn't end even after an orgasm with a delicious face. That didn't dissipate even when he was laughing and dancing. He needed to be asleep not to think. And he did it night after night, after night ...
Warnings: Alcohol and potions abuse, promiscuity, PTSD, Angst, loving friends, Top!Harry, Bottom!Draco
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
||You can run free, I won't hold it against ya
You do your thing, never wanted a future
Fuck if I knew how to put it romantic
Speaking my truth, there's no need to panic||
- Cool Girl - Tove Lo
It wasn’t hurting. Not at all. Draco was at his table with the other Slytherins, his best shoes on his feet, a drink in his hand and a plate of horrible chips in the middle of the table. He stared at the table across the bar, watching him. Potter looked happy. He looked so happy that Draco wanted to get his pint bottle throw it at him. How could he be smiling like that when Draco felt miserable?
"Soon Potter will choke on an olive if you don’t stop looking at him like that," He heard Theodore's voice, distant, and rolled his eyes, drinking from his bottle.
"Maybe he'll stop being an arsehole after a near-death experience," That was his answer. Draco grabbed a handful of those awful chips and stuffed his mouth, chewing aggressively. Blaise, damn traitor, was at the other table with his tongue inside Weaselette's throat. Draco wanted to kill them all.
"Wow, you need sex. I never thought I'd tell you this, but after Potter decided that he didn’t want your skinny arse, you are horrible,” Pansy said, and Draco threw his chips on her, and she screamed in disgust.
“I just don’t understand! He said he didn’t have time, but he's been drinking like a bastard. On a Saturday!” Draco complained, placing his bottle on the table. “Fucking liar.”
"Well, you couldn’t expect him to play games with you forever, could you?" Theo asked, raising an eyebrow. "Not everyone wants to just have fun.”
"I don’t know anyone who would prefer a household life if they could choose something else,” Draco said, and Pansy pointed at the other table with a chip before she shoved it into her mouth.
"A bunch of Gryffindors and a traitor, same shit,” He grunted, turning his face to Harry again. Well, he'd never asked for a relationship. Really, Draco didn’t have any reason to be so upset.
“Come on, I'm tired you moping around,” Pansy held him by his wrist. "Let's go clubbing and dancing until we pass out. Theo, pay the bill. Draco will drink until Potter is detoxified from his system.”
Draco laughed. As he left, his eyes met Potter's, and perhaps there was sadness in his look. But if he had really seen it, well... He didn’t remember very well. After that night, he never remembered very well.
|| Pretty boys, they didn't teach me things I didn't know
They don't have the thing that I need, but they don't know they don't
You got that old thing about ya, and I can't hide my feels
Pretty girls, they always die out, need another sex appeal
I said come on, zero fucks about it
Come on, I know I'm gonna get hurt
Come on, zero fucks about it
Come on
Keep playing my heartstrings faster and faster
You can be just what I want, my true disaster ||
- True Disaster - Tove Lo
September 2004
The painting of the ceiling was fading. Draco was dying to get his wand, which was somewhere on top of his folded clothes, and peel it. He felt his partner's breath on his neck, and his own body moving in the rhythm of the body on top of his. Draco had his legs spread open, his feet on the bed, concentrating on the paint so he wouldn’t think about the light burn between his legs. Gods, that was horrible.
"You know, you can touch my cock. It won’t fall,” Draco said, and the guy on top of him lifted his head. His eyes were a beautiful shade of green when Draco asked him out, but now they looked like an odious mossy tone. Maybe he sobered up enough to notice that.
“Oh, ok,” What’s-his-name nodded, breathing heavily. Draco rolled his eyes, then closed them to see if he'd forget the paint peeling off the ceiling. The movements returned, along with a hand that now moved up and down his half-hard prick.
Draco bit his lower lip, concentrating. Big, warm hands were moving all over him, and they touched him as if they had been made for it.
"Come on, kitty," a voice said in his ear. It was hoarse, and at the same time, controlling and gentle. "You're so beautiful when you come... Come for me."
Draco opened his lips, letting out a low moan. The phantom sensation that those memories caused him slowly brought him to an orgasm. His body twitched slightly, a weak moan dying on his lips, and he soon felt the other man's body trembling on top of him. He pushed him away, wincing as their bodies parted.
"Are you sure these Muggle things really work?" The man asked, pulling on the rubber that protected his cock.
“Of course it works,” It was Draco's answer. In a few seconds, he was already dressed and apparating home. When he reappeared in his room, he felt sick. He was definitely still under the influence of alcohol, but not enough. He left his room, going to the cellar and grabbing a bottle of wine.
As he was walking back to his rooms, his eyes fixed on an edition of the Daily Prophet. Harry Potter was on the front page, which was strange because it had been some time since he had appeared in the paper. It wasn’t the main subject, however, only a small note in the left corner, indicating that the report was in the Daily Life area of the newspaper. Draco picked it up, reading the headline.
Boy Who Survived Twice starts second semester in St Mungo’s with high marks!
Draco smiled with his lips tight, watching Harry's smiling face in the small image. They hadn’t talked to each other in months. After the first strange and uncomfortable attempts, they ended up moving away. There was no official request, of course. It happened. It just happened.
Draco felt his eyes burn and swallowed hard. He set the bottle of wine on the table, looking for the report in the newspaper. When he found it, he carefully tore out the photo that illustrated the material. When he had the picture in his hands, he wiped his wet cheek, grabbed the bottle once again, and, after putting the picture in a safe place, drank it until he forgot that he had seen that image in the first place.
|| I, I'm not the prettiest you've ever seen
But I have my moments, I have my moments
Not the flawless one, I've never been
But I have my moments, I have my moments
I can get a little drunk, I get into all the drugs
But on good days, I am charming as fuck ||
- Moments - Tove Lo
December 2004
“Draco!” He heard Pansy's exasperated voice screaming, but he didn’t care. His bare feet moved over the Buffet table, avoiding the food plates as he rocked in the rhythm of the loud music that played. He could hear Blaise's laughter somewhere, but his mind was in a delicious limbo. In his head he had Ginevra Weasley’s veil - or would it be Zabini, now? - and it gave him an air of purity together with his expensive white robes.
“Leave him be, Pans! Look how happy he is,” Blaise said, and Draco laughed at him, holding the sides of the veil and spinning, his hips moving to the rhythm of the song.
"You," Draco said, opening his eyes, still dancing as he looked at Blaise. “are an idiot! But at least you’re going to have sex every day! Every. Fucking. Day!” Blaise laughed, and Draco heard Ginevra's laughter somewhere alongside him. He looked around and was surprised to see that she was up there too. "You're a beautiful bride. Even though you are ginger and freckled.”
"Thank you, Malfoy. You're a beautiful bride. Even though you are barefoot and drunk,” She answered, and he laughed, taking her by the hands and pulling her to dance with him.
He laughed, his mind a mess. Deep inside him, though, he wondered if the guy he'd found sticking his tongue into Harry Potter's mouth sucked cock as well as he himself did.
Draco hoped not.
|| Denying
Saying 'Time will heal'
Keep lying
To make me feel
I'm OK
So you believe
I'd forget you
Seriously?
Are you kidding me?
You're out of your mind
To think that I could keep you
Out of mine. ||
- Out of mind - Tove Lo
February 14, 2005
Draco was alone in the Fairy Finger. He was staring blankly at the glass in his hand. It was late. He wondered when Pansy would walk through the doors and pull him by the ears. He wiped his cheeks, a tear falling into the drink and making little waves.
It had been a year. Merlin!, an entire year in which he was feeling utterly miserable. It had been almost two years since the first kiss.
Draco licked his dry lips, slipping a hand into the back pocket of his trousers and picking up a pack of pills. It was just muscle relaxant. It wasn’t a problem, was it? He was tense and needed it. Draco pushed the plastic over the tablets, putting three in his palm. On second thought, he added another. Granger had assured him they were good and only took a little longer to take effect because they were weaker than a potion.
Well, he didn’t need a prescription for those. And Merlin protected him from having to pass anywhere near St. Mungo's. He stuffed the pills into his mouth and swallowed with the help of the drink, grimacing and shoving the remaining carton back into his pocket.
He waited a few minutes while circling his thumb over the top of the glass. He noticed when a handsome red-haired boy sat next to him, but he wasn’t really paying attention. It all seemed kind of in slow motion. He smiled, though, because he wanted to be polite.
The world died out for a few seconds, and when it returned, Draco was looking at Pansy. He was in a very light place. Hm... It looked like her new flat.
“Hey, Pans,” He said huskily, and she let out a strangled cry. He watched as she lifted the carton with the pills, swinging them in front of his face.
"How many of these did you take?" It was a question, but it felt like a stab. His head was hurting so much and he vaguely noticed that her eyes were red.
"Two, three... I don’t know, Pans. It's just muscle relaxant,” He said, shaking a dismissive hand.
"You passed out for almost 24 hours, you idiot!" She yelled at him, tossing the pills on the floor. "If I have you exaggerating on these things again, I will put you in a Center, Draco Malfoy!" Pansy threatened. "And get up. Theo is coming to dinner and you're going to help me do it.”
Draco yawned, turning on the couch to escape the light from the windows. He massaged his temple. 24 hours, huh? If he took six of these, would he sleep for two days?
|| Baby, listen please
I'm not on drugs, I'm not on drugs,
I'm just in love (Oh)
Baby, don't you see?
I'm not on drugs, I'm not on drugs,
I'm just in love
You're high enough for me.||
- Not on Drugs - Tove Lo
February 14, 2007
Draco buttoned his shirt, but left the top two buttons open. He moved away from the mirror to get an overview of his body, liking what he saw. He smiled to himself, but the smile disappeared quickly. Draco touched his cheeks, realizing how thin he looked. A few years ago, he had pink cheeks and flesh enough to hide his angular bones, but now the lines of his face were sharp, and his eyes deep, with dark circles around it. He bit his lower lip then let out a sigh, putting on perfume and getting his wand. He wasn’t as handsome as he was before, big deal. He was still rich, and there was an idiot on his feet every night.
Pansy had said the day before that Draco needed to calm down. Well, he had no reason for that, had he? She was just saying that because she now had a string ring around her ring finger and was probably being licked by Lovegood every day. Merlin. She kept saying that he was going to die alone and that soon he would be the only bachelor in the group. And it was true. Theodore had been hanging around the Greengrass sisters for some time, and he didn’t even want to think about Blaise. The son of a bitch was already breeding. Not that he could blame him. The fact that Ginevra looked like a miniature whale only proved they had sex, but that only made Zabini judge him constantly. He wasn’t even going to the club meetings anymore, only appearing in that damn pub.
Draco had never gone to the Fairy Finger again. In fact, the last time he'd been there was on this very significant date the previous year. His drunken, stupid feet always drove him there.
He walked over to his dresser, picking up some potion flasks from it. They were small, just the right measure that he needed of soothing potions. He took one, opening the lid and swallowing its contents. He had spent a few hours preparing them, and besides being strong enough, which was what he wanted, Draco had a proof that he was still good at it, even though it had been centuries since he had made any kind of potion. He picked up some other little flasks, put them in his pocket and left the room.
He went down the stairs to the living room where his mother was sitting with a book in her hands.
“Are you leaving?” She asked, raising her head, and he frowned.
"Yes," Draco said simply. She had never questioned his nights out - sure, she had never seen him completely drunk, though they had had horrible fights when his excesses appeared in the papers. But there were so many of them that the Prophet no longer bothered to publish old news. In any case, she hardly saw him leave or arrive.
"Draco, it is Wednesday. How about you stay at home today? The elves are going to make a marvellous dinner,” She said, setting the book aside and getting on her feet. Draco realised she was thinner as well. How had he not realised how her hands were bony? He used to look at Narcissa's hands all the time. He always loved the fact that his hands were the same as hers.
"Mother, it's Valentine's Day. I won’t stay at home mopping around,” He said, rolling his eyes and waving his wand, but didn’t apparate as wished. He tried again, with the same result. He took a deep breath, the potion he'd just taken helping him to stay in control. “Mother. The wards.”
"Draco, I cannot let you live like this,” She said, lifting a hand and touching him on the shoulder, making him jerk away. Narcissa looked extremely hurt by that attitude, and Draco felt his stomach ache. He used to be his mother's best friend, what the bloody hell had happened in the meantime?
He had fallen in love, broken his heart and lost his mind. Somewhere in the middle, Draco had turned away from the person who had done everything to protect him. Guilt grabbed him by his inside, rustling his intestines and squeezing his heart so tightly he wanted to jump from the porch. His will was to break everything. Bloody hell!
"I'm not a child anymore. I do what I want,” He said roughly, and Narcissa shook her head.
"That's right, Draco. You're not a child anymore. You are a man of almost 26, who does not have a job, a boyfriend, a hobby, nothing! You have nothing but your drunkenness and its inconsequence! This will stop now, Draco Malfoy, even if I have to stop you by force!” She said, her face becoming stern, tears stuck in her red streamed eyes.
"And who's to blame?" He asked wickedly, feeling the anger rise to his head. Draco pulled the sleeve of his shirt up to his elbow, practically rubbing the dark mark on his mother's face. "Whose fault is it that I have this shite on my arm? Who's to blame, Mother?!”
She narrowed her eyes, turning her face away from him, unable to see the mark on her son's arm.
"Draco, I did what I could..."
"You didn’t do enough," He spat, his words full of poison. "He still put it on my skin, didn’t he? He made me almost kill several people. He made me torture others. He made me sit in the same room as him and lick his fingers,” Draco laughed nervously. "I think I deserve to get out of this hell every now and then, don’t I?" And without waiting for any reply, he headed out the front door. He would walk the ten-minute walk to the gates and apparate from outside.
Who the hell did she think she was to lock him at home like a spoiled child?
Merlin!
Two hours later, Draco was slowly moving his head to the beat of the song. His feet were bare - he didn’t know where his boots had gone - and he watched the couples around him. Celestina Warbeck was singing at the top of her lungs on the radio, the same song he remembered Potter singing on the karaoke all those years ago, which was off that day because of Valentine's Day. He had already taken two more vials of the potion, but he still felt nervous.
"Are you still going to drink this?" The bartender asked, indicating the almost empty bottle beside the blonde.
“Hm. Yes, I will,” Draco said, blankly, taking the bottle by the neck and drinking it all at once. The liquid trickled down his throat, and he didn’t even notice when he emptied it. He pushed the bottle from his face, frowning at it.
He looked into the middle of the bar, where some couples danced. Couples... Well, he thought it was couples. His vision was blurry and he couldn’t quite tell what was happening.
He rose from the bench where he was, stumbling towards the loo, feeling his head spin. He didn’t know very well how he arrived, but he soon opened one of the stalls, closing the door and trying to lock it, but with no success. He decided that he didn’t mind, and sat in the toilet, without lifting the lid. He lifted one leg and pushed it against the door to shut it.
He hugged himself and let his pain go, his tears dripping and his face turning into the image of pain. He felt his lips tear, dry, but he couldn’t care less. Heavens, he'd never felt so much pain. That day was always the worst day of the year. It was the worst day of his life. Why hadn’t he simply done what his heart said and left with Harry? Why didn’t he grab the brunet's jacket when he could and said he wanted to leave with him?
Painfully, Draco remembered his name all the time. Ivan. He wasn’t even good, he had bad jokes and the sex was so empty that Draco decided to leave before he even came. He had traded Harry for it, and because he ‘could’. Because he didn’t want Potter to think he was important to be with him on Valentine's Day. Valentine's Day was to be spent with who you loved. Draco didn’t love anyone.
At least he tried to convince himself.
It had been years ago, but the disappointment, guilt, and regret of his actions had never faded. Never. He leaned his head against the wall behind him, sobbing. Even his mother. Merlin, he was horrible. He had hurt her so much. What kind of son was he? What kind of son hurts so much a mother who sacrificed her own life for himself? She was right. He had nothing. He had no purpose, he had no future, he had no reason to be alive. He had absolutely no reason to be alive.
"Why did you take me out of the fire, then?" He asked between sobs, into the void, without waiting for an answer.
And without thinking, he took the four small vials in his front pocket and removed the lid of the four of them. He just wanted to stop it. Stop the world and sleep until the pain was over. He turned the potions in his mouth and swallowed it like water. His burned tongue didn’t even taste the strong potion that instantly doped him. The vials fell to the floor, breaking. His leg slipped from the door to the floor and the door opened slightly. He let his heavy body slip. Not that he could hold himself, of course.
That was the best feeling in the world. No sound, no pain, no heartache. Draco felt as if he were sinking into the Black Lake. It was cold, dark and soft... So soft, and he couldn’t breathe. If only that day he could have told Harry how much he was in love. How happy he was to see his smile, how much he loved his tender gestures and worried questions. If only Draco had accepted his hugs and affection when it was offered. If only he'd said he loved him.
Everything was empty.
[ Why don't you tell me, in your own words, why you did what you did?
Was it the narcotics?]
Draco felt his body move from side to side. He couldn’t open his eyes, but he could feel the movements.
(Maybe.)
They put him on something soft. Was it his bed?
[Were you unhappy?]
There were screams. People talking loudly.
(No.)
A siren.
[Was it him?]
They put something on his face. He wanted to beat the person away, but his hand was stuck.
(No.)
There was a light over his eyes, and he tried to pull it away, but his body was so, so heavy...
[Well, then what was it?]
He felt magic over him. More movement. Hands.
(I don’t know what you mean.)
His eyes opened a little. Light. A lot of light. He closed them again tightly. He felt his body lighten, more movement.
[I know what's wrong with you.
You're just... broken... inside.
You never did anything right.
You're fucked up.
Say it with me.]
Draco managed to open his eyes slightly, and though it was all foggy, he could see a ceiling. Lights passed quickly through his line of sight. Someone was pushing him somewhere, in a hurry. A man. Draco could see the gleam of spectacle lenses in the light. He had beautiful dark hair. He felt himself falling into a park, so, so green...
(I'm broken.
I never did anything right.
I'm fucked up.)
The man looked at him. The ceiling lights made him look like an angel falling from the sky. He said something, but Draco was lost in the worry so evident in that river of emeralds on his face. Was it possible that someone had emeralds instead of eyes? Draco was sure he did. He smiled. Maybe he was dead. That was it... He had died, and was in heaven, where Harry was an angel and would take him to a soft bed where they would sleep late, and Draco would wake up looking at his smile, and realise once again that he had a crooked, adorable tooth, and would count all the freckles on his nose, and touch his hair with his fingers, kiss all his scars and hug him against his chest. Harry loved to hear his heart, Draco knew. Harry always liked it. He closed his eyes and let himself be taken.
Finally, he was dying.
[Do you feel better?]
___
(The parts in between the last scene were taken from Tove Lo's 'Moments'.)
Chapter 1
Pairing: Harry/Draco, side Ron/Hermione, Blaise/Ginny, Pansy/Luna, Oliver/Percy
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: around 4k
Summary: He hated the clubs, hated drinking, hated the guys he danced and fell with every night, and he hated the next days. But he couldn't stop. He couldn't stop simply because being sober was much worse than being hungover. Thinking about the headache, the taste of bile and the Pansy's preach was better than the pain that was constantly there. That didn't end even after an orgasm with a delicious face. That didn't dissipate even when he was laughing and dancing. He needed to be asleep not to think. And he did it night after night, after night ...
Warnings: Alcohol and potions abuse, promiscuity, PTSD, Angst, loving friends, Top!Harry, Bottom!Draco
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
||You can run free, I won't hold it against ya
You do your thing, never wanted a future
Fuck if I knew how to put it romantic
Speaking my truth, there's no need to panic||
- Cool Girl - Tove Lo
It wasn’t hurting. Not at all. Draco was at his table with the other Slytherins, his best shoes on his feet, a drink in his hand and a plate of horrible chips in the middle of the table. He stared at the table across the bar, watching him. Potter looked happy. He looked so happy that Draco wanted to get his pint bottle throw it at him. How could he be smiling like that when Draco felt miserable?
"Soon Potter will choke on an olive if you don’t stop looking at him like that," He heard Theodore's voice, distant, and rolled his eyes, drinking from his bottle.
"Maybe he'll stop being an arsehole after a near-death experience," That was his answer. Draco grabbed a handful of those awful chips and stuffed his mouth, chewing aggressively. Blaise, damn traitor, was at the other table with his tongue inside Weaselette's throat. Draco wanted to kill them all.
"Wow, you need sex. I never thought I'd tell you this, but after Potter decided that he didn’t want your skinny arse, you are horrible,” Pansy said, and Draco threw his chips on her, and she screamed in disgust.
“I just don’t understand! He said he didn’t have time, but he's been drinking like a bastard. On a Saturday!” Draco complained, placing his bottle on the table. “Fucking liar.”
"Well, you couldn’t expect him to play games with you forever, could you?" Theo asked, raising an eyebrow. "Not everyone wants to just have fun.”
"I don’t know anyone who would prefer a household life if they could choose something else,” Draco said, and Pansy pointed at the other table with a chip before she shoved it into her mouth.
"A bunch of Gryffindors and a traitor, same shit,” He grunted, turning his face to Harry again. Well, he'd never asked for a relationship. Really, Draco didn’t have any reason to be so upset.
“Come on, I'm tired you moping around,” Pansy held him by his wrist. "Let's go clubbing and dancing until we pass out. Theo, pay the bill. Draco will drink until Potter is detoxified from his system.”
Draco laughed. As he left, his eyes met Potter's, and perhaps there was sadness in his look. But if he had really seen it, well... He didn’t remember very well. After that night, he never remembered very well.
|| Pretty boys, they didn't teach me things I didn't know
They don't have the thing that I need, but they don't know they don't
You got that old thing about ya, and I can't hide my feels
Pretty girls, they always die out, need another sex appeal
I said come on, zero fucks about it
Come on, I know I'm gonna get hurt
Come on, zero fucks about it
Come on
Keep playing my heartstrings faster and faster
You can be just what I want, my true disaster ||
- True Disaster - Tove Lo
September 2004
The painting of the ceiling was fading. Draco was dying to get his wand, which was somewhere on top of his folded clothes, and peel it. He felt his partner's breath on his neck, and his own body moving in the rhythm of the body on top of his. Draco had his legs spread open, his feet on the bed, concentrating on the paint so he wouldn’t think about the light burn between his legs. Gods, that was horrible.
"You know, you can touch my cock. It won’t fall,” Draco said, and the guy on top of him lifted his head. His eyes were a beautiful shade of green when Draco asked him out, but now they looked like an odious mossy tone. Maybe he sobered up enough to notice that.
“Oh, ok,” What’s-his-name nodded, breathing heavily. Draco rolled his eyes, then closed them to see if he'd forget the paint peeling off the ceiling. The movements returned, along with a hand that now moved up and down his half-hard prick.
Draco bit his lower lip, concentrating. Big, warm hands were moving all over him, and they touched him as if they had been made for it.
"Come on, kitty," a voice said in his ear. It was hoarse, and at the same time, controlling and gentle. "You're so beautiful when you come... Come for me."
Draco opened his lips, letting out a low moan. The phantom sensation that those memories caused him slowly brought him to an orgasm. His body twitched slightly, a weak moan dying on his lips, and he soon felt the other man's body trembling on top of him. He pushed him away, wincing as their bodies parted.
"Are you sure these Muggle things really work?" The man asked, pulling on the rubber that protected his cock.
“Of course it works,” It was Draco's answer. In a few seconds, he was already dressed and apparating home. When he reappeared in his room, he felt sick. He was definitely still under the influence of alcohol, but not enough. He left his room, going to the cellar and grabbing a bottle of wine.
As he was walking back to his rooms, his eyes fixed on an edition of the Daily Prophet. Harry Potter was on the front page, which was strange because it had been some time since he had appeared in the paper. It wasn’t the main subject, however, only a small note in the left corner, indicating that the report was in the Daily Life area of the newspaper. Draco picked it up, reading the headline.
Boy Who Survived Twice starts second semester in St Mungo’s with high marks!
Draco smiled with his lips tight, watching Harry's smiling face in the small image. They hadn’t talked to each other in months. After the first strange and uncomfortable attempts, they ended up moving away. There was no official request, of course. It happened. It just happened.
Draco felt his eyes burn and swallowed hard. He set the bottle of wine on the table, looking for the report in the newspaper. When he found it, he carefully tore out the photo that illustrated the material. When he had the picture in his hands, he wiped his wet cheek, grabbed the bottle once again, and, after putting the picture in a safe place, drank it until he forgot that he had seen that image in the first place.
|| I, I'm not the prettiest you've ever seen
But I have my moments, I have my moments
Not the flawless one, I've never been
But I have my moments, I have my moments
I can get a little drunk, I get into all the drugs
But on good days, I am charming as fuck ||
- Moments - Tove Lo
December 2004
“Draco!” He heard Pansy's exasperated voice screaming, but he didn’t care. His bare feet moved over the Buffet table, avoiding the food plates as he rocked in the rhythm of the loud music that played. He could hear Blaise's laughter somewhere, but his mind was in a delicious limbo. In his head he had Ginevra Weasley’s veil - or would it be Zabini, now? - and it gave him an air of purity together with his expensive white robes.
“Leave him be, Pans! Look how happy he is,” Blaise said, and Draco laughed at him, holding the sides of the veil and spinning, his hips moving to the rhythm of the song.
"You," Draco said, opening his eyes, still dancing as he looked at Blaise. “are an idiot! But at least you’re going to have sex every day! Every. Fucking. Day!” Blaise laughed, and Draco heard Ginevra's laughter somewhere alongside him. He looked around and was surprised to see that she was up there too. "You're a beautiful bride. Even though you are ginger and freckled.”
"Thank you, Malfoy. You're a beautiful bride. Even though you are barefoot and drunk,” She answered, and he laughed, taking her by the hands and pulling her to dance with him.
He laughed, his mind a mess. Deep inside him, though, he wondered if the guy he'd found sticking his tongue into Harry Potter's mouth sucked cock as well as he himself did.
Draco hoped not.
|| Denying
Saying 'Time will heal'
Keep lying
To make me feel
I'm OK
So you believe
I'd forget you
Seriously?
Are you kidding me?
You're out of your mind
To think that I could keep you
Out of mine. ||
- Out of mind - Tove Lo
February 14, 2005
Draco was alone in the Fairy Finger. He was staring blankly at the glass in his hand. It was late. He wondered when Pansy would walk through the doors and pull him by the ears. He wiped his cheeks, a tear falling into the drink and making little waves.
It had been a year. Merlin!, an entire year in which he was feeling utterly miserable. It had been almost two years since the first kiss.
Draco licked his dry lips, slipping a hand into the back pocket of his trousers and picking up a pack of pills. It was just muscle relaxant. It wasn’t a problem, was it? He was tense and needed it. Draco pushed the plastic over the tablets, putting three in his palm. On second thought, he added another. Granger had assured him they were good and only took a little longer to take effect because they were weaker than a potion.
Well, he didn’t need a prescription for those. And Merlin protected him from having to pass anywhere near St. Mungo's. He stuffed the pills into his mouth and swallowed with the help of the drink, grimacing and shoving the remaining carton back into his pocket.
He waited a few minutes while circling his thumb over the top of the glass. He noticed when a handsome red-haired boy sat next to him, but he wasn’t really paying attention. It all seemed kind of in slow motion. He smiled, though, because he wanted to be polite.
The world died out for a few seconds, and when it returned, Draco was looking at Pansy. He was in a very light place. Hm... It looked like her new flat.
“Hey, Pans,” He said huskily, and she let out a strangled cry. He watched as she lifted the carton with the pills, swinging them in front of his face.
"How many of these did you take?" It was a question, but it felt like a stab. His head was hurting so much and he vaguely noticed that her eyes were red.
"Two, three... I don’t know, Pans. It's just muscle relaxant,” He said, shaking a dismissive hand.
"You passed out for almost 24 hours, you idiot!" She yelled at him, tossing the pills on the floor. "If I have you exaggerating on these things again, I will put you in a Center, Draco Malfoy!" Pansy threatened. "And get up. Theo is coming to dinner and you're going to help me do it.”
Draco yawned, turning on the couch to escape the light from the windows. He massaged his temple. 24 hours, huh? If he took six of these, would he sleep for two days?
|| Baby, listen please
I'm not on drugs, I'm not on drugs,
I'm just in love (Oh)
Baby, don't you see?
I'm not on drugs, I'm not on drugs,
I'm just in love
You're high enough for me.||
- Not on Drugs - Tove Lo
February 14, 2007
Draco buttoned his shirt, but left the top two buttons open. He moved away from the mirror to get an overview of his body, liking what he saw. He smiled to himself, but the smile disappeared quickly. Draco touched his cheeks, realizing how thin he looked. A few years ago, he had pink cheeks and flesh enough to hide his angular bones, but now the lines of his face were sharp, and his eyes deep, with dark circles around it. He bit his lower lip then let out a sigh, putting on perfume and getting his wand. He wasn’t as handsome as he was before, big deal. He was still rich, and there was an idiot on his feet every night.
Pansy had said the day before that Draco needed to calm down. Well, he had no reason for that, had he? She was just saying that because she now had a string ring around her ring finger and was probably being licked by Lovegood every day. Merlin. She kept saying that he was going to die alone and that soon he would be the only bachelor in the group. And it was true. Theodore had been hanging around the Greengrass sisters for some time, and he didn’t even want to think about Blaise. The son of a bitch was already breeding. Not that he could blame him. The fact that Ginevra looked like a miniature whale only proved they had sex, but that only made Zabini judge him constantly. He wasn’t even going to the club meetings anymore, only appearing in that damn pub.
Draco had never gone to the Fairy Finger again. In fact, the last time he'd been there was on this very significant date the previous year. His drunken, stupid feet always drove him there.
He walked over to his dresser, picking up some potion flasks from it. They were small, just the right measure that he needed of soothing potions. He took one, opening the lid and swallowing its contents. He had spent a few hours preparing them, and besides being strong enough, which was what he wanted, Draco had a proof that he was still good at it, even though it had been centuries since he had made any kind of potion. He picked up some other little flasks, put them in his pocket and left the room.
He went down the stairs to the living room where his mother was sitting with a book in her hands.
“Are you leaving?” She asked, raising her head, and he frowned.
"Yes," Draco said simply. She had never questioned his nights out - sure, she had never seen him completely drunk, though they had had horrible fights when his excesses appeared in the papers. But there were so many of them that the Prophet no longer bothered to publish old news. In any case, she hardly saw him leave or arrive.
"Draco, it is Wednesday. How about you stay at home today? The elves are going to make a marvellous dinner,” She said, setting the book aside and getting on her feet. Draco realised she was thinner as well. How had he not realised how her hands were bony? He used to look at Narcissa's hands all the time. He always loved the fact that his hands were the same as hers.
"Mother, it's Valentine's Day. I won’t stay at home mopping around,” He said, rolling his eyes and waving his wand, but didn’t apparate as wished. He tried again, with the same result. He took a deep breath, the potion he'd just taken helping him to stay in control. “Mother. The wards.”
"Draco, I cannot let you live like this,” She said, lifting a hand and touching him on the shoulder, making him jerk away. Narcissa looked extremely hurt by that attitude, and Draco felt his stomach ache. He used to be his mother's best friend, what the bloody hell had happened in the meantime?
He had fallen in love, broken his heart and lost his mind. Somewhere in the middle, Draco had turned away from the person who had done everything to protect him. Guilt grabbed him by his inside, rustling his intestines and squeezing his heart so tightly he wanted to jump from the porch. His will was to break everything. Bloody hell!
"I'm not a child anymore. I do what I want,” He said roughly, and Narcissa shook her head.
"That's right, Draco. You're not a child anymore. You are a man of almost 26, who does not have a job, a boyfriend, a hobby, nothing! You have nothing but your drunkenness and its inconsequence! This will stop now, Draco Malfoy, even if I have to stop you by force!” She said, her face becoming stern, tears stuck in her red streamed eyes.
"And who's to blame?" He asked wickedly, feeling the anger rise to his head. Draco pulled the sleeve of his shirt up to his elbow, practically rubbing the dark mark on his mother's face. "Whose fault is it that I have this shite on my arm? Who's to blame, Mother?!”
She narrowed her eyes, turning her face away from him, unable to see the mark on her son's arm.
"Draco, I did what I could..."
"You didn’t do enough," He spat, his words full of poison. "He still put it on my skin, didn’t he? He made me almost kill several people. He made me torture others. He made me sit in the same room as him and lick his fingers,” Draco laughed nervously. "I think I deserve to get out of this hell every now and then, don’t I?" And without waiting for any reply, he headed out the front door. He would walk the ten-minute walk to the gates and apparate from outside.
Who the hell did she think she was to lock him at home like a spoiled child?
Merlin!
Two hours later, Draco was slowly moving his head to the beat of the song. His feet were bare - he didn’t know where his boots had gone - and he watched the couples around him. Celestina Warbeck was singing at the top of her lungs on the radio, the same song he remembered Potter singing on the karaoke all those years ago, which was off that day because of Valentine's Day. He had already taken two more vials of the potion, but he still felt nervous.
"Are you still going to drink this?" The bartender asked, indicating the almost empty bottle beside the blonde.
“Hm. Yes, I will,” Draco said, blankly, taking the bottle by the neck and drinking it all at once. The liquid trickled down his throat, and he didn’t even notice when he emptied it. He pushed the bottle from his face, frowning at it.
He looked into the middle of the bar, where some couples danced. Couples... Well, he thought it was couples. His vision was blurry and he couldn’t quite tell what was happening.
He rose from the bench where he was, stumbling towards the loo, feeling his head spin. He didn’t know very well how he arrived, but he soon opened one of the stalls, closing the door and trying to lock it, but with no success. He decided that he didn’t mind, and sat in the toilet, without lifting the lid. He lifted one leg and pushed it against the door to shut it.
He hugged himself and let his pain go, his tears dripping and his face turning into the image of pain. He felt his lips tear, dry, but he couldn’t care less. Heavens, he'd never felt so much pain. That day was always the worst day of the year. It was the worst day of his life. Why hadn’t he simply done what his heart said and left with Harry? Why didn’t he grab the brunet's jacket when he could and said he wanted to leave with him?
Painfully, Draco remembered his name all the time. Ivan. He wasn’t even good, he had bad jokes and the sex was so empty that Draco decided to leave before he even came. He had traded Harry for it, and because he ‘could’. Because he didn’t want Potter to think he was important to be with him on Valentine's Day. Valentine's Day was to be spent with who you loved. Draco didn’t love anyone.
At least he tried to convince himself.
It had been years ago, but the disappointment, guilt, and regret of his actions had never faded. Never. He leaned his head against the wall behind him, sobbing. Even his mother. Merlin, he was horrible. He had hurt her so much. What kind of son was he? What kind of son hurts so much a mother who sacrificed her own life for himself? She was right. He had nothing. He had no purpose, he had no future, he had no reason to be alive. He had absolutely no reason to be alive.
"Why did you take me out of the fire, then?" He asked between sobs, into the void, without waiting for an answer.
And without thinking, he took the four small vials in his front pocket and removed the lid of the four of them. He just wanted to stop it. Stop the world and sleep until the pain was over. He turned the potions in his mouth and swallowed it like water. His burned tongue didn’t even taste the strong potion that instantly doped him. The vials fell to the floor, breaking. His leg slipped from the door to the floor and the door opened slightly. He let his heavy body slip. Not that he could hold himself, of course.
That was the best feeling in the world. No sound, no pain, no heartache. Draco felt as if he were sinking into the Black Lake. It was cold, dark and soft... So soft, and he couldn’t breathe. If only that day he could have told Harry how much he was in love. How happy he was to see his smile, how much he loved his tender gestures and worried questions. If only Draco had accepted his hugs and affection when it was offered. If only he'd said he loved him.
Everything was empty.
[ Why don't you tell me, in your own words, why you did what you did?
Was it the narcotics?]
Draco felt his body move from side to side. He couldn’t open his eyes, but he could feel the movements.
(Maybe.)
They put him on something soft. Was it his bed?
[Were you unhappy?]
There were screams. People talking loudly.
(No.)
A siren.
[Was it him?]
They put something on his face. He wanted to beat the person away, but his hand was stuck.
(No.)
There was a light over his eyes, and he tried to pull it away, but his body was so, so heavy...
[Well, then what was it?]
He felt magic over him. More movement. Hands.
(I don’t know what you mean.)
His eyes opened a little. Light. A lot of light. He closed them again tightly. He felt his body lighten, more movement.
[I know what's wrong with you.
You're just... broken... inside.
You never did anything right.
You're fucked up.
Say it with me.]
Draco managed to open his eyes slightly, and though it was all foggy, he could see a ceiling. Lights passed quickly through his line of sight. Someone was pushing him somewhere, in a hurry. A man. Draco could see the gleam of spectacle lenses in the light. He had beautiful dark hair. He felt himself falling into a park, so, so green...
(I'm broken.
I never did anything right.
I'm fucked up.)
The man looked at him. The ceiling lights made him look like an angel falling from the sky. He said something, but Draco was lost in the worry so evident in that river of emeralds on his face. Was it possible that someone had emeralds instead of eyes? Draco was sure he did. He smiled. Maybe he was dead. That was it... He had died, and was in heaven, where Harry was an angel and would take him to a soft bed where they would sleep late, and Draco would wake up looking at his smile, and realise once again that he had a crooked, adorable tooth, and would count all the freckles on his nose, and touch his hair with his fingers, kiss all his scars and hug him against his chest. Harry loved to hear his heart, Draco knew. Harry always liked it. He closed his eyes and let himself be taken.
Finally, he was dying.
[Do you feel better?]
___
(The parts in between the last scene were taken from Tove Lo's 'Moments'.)
Chapter 1