Drug Like

by awesomatics

There's hate, and then there's the hate that can tear you apart until you can't sleep at night. Based on 'Drug Like' by Action Action. One-shot songfic.

Title: Drug Like

Author: leeharding123

Rating: Hard R

Warnings: Swearing. A lot.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Summary: There's hate, and then there's the hate that can tear you apart until you can't sleep at night. Draco and Hermione know what it's like to hate, but not necessarily each other. Based on 'Drug Like' by Action Action. One-shot songfic.

Author Notes: Thank you to wafball for beta-ing!

***

I'm an angel with broken wings, who's poisoning the night with love, from me to you.

Draco shook the snow off his shoulders, blinking it out of his eyes, brushing his hair away in annoyance. He'd been standing out here for an hour, and he didn't realise it would be so. Fucking. Freezing. But the night was there and he was there and he didn't feel like moving.

Hogwarts was a piece of shit, really. Guess who they loved? The Boy-Who-Fucking-Lived, who else? They were all, "Oh Potter, you're so wonderful Potter, do you want a drink Harry, Harry, are you cold, do you need a blanket, do you need a blowjob, Harry, do you need my mum?"

He was sick of watching people fawn all over Potter. Not that home was much better. He shivered involuntarily, and he knew it wasn't just because of the cold.

Because Potter wasn't the only one who had gotten a Horcrux. Potter wasn't the only one to see bad things and experience bad things and dream about bad things till he woke up screaming in the middle of the night.

Draco couldn't help but feel like his wings were broken, and he stood there, in the snow in the middle of the night, immobile and silent.

***

I'm having an episode. Do you want a small bit part? I think you might, I hope you do.

Hermione sat in the dorm, alone, staring at the slip of parchment in her hands. "I'm very disappointed, Ms Granger." That's all it said. She mouthed the words first, then read it out again. And again. Louder, louder. She didn't realise she was screaming it and crying until the salty taste of tears reached her lips.

So maybe her grades were slipping. That was nothing. That was a stupid thing to be worried about.

Oh, and her parents were breaking up too. That was fine. She knew they never really liked each other anyway.

But it was something, like a loss of identity, that was tearing her up inside. That's what made her mother leave, anyway. Sold her dental clinic and moved to the Bahamas to sell tequila to strange shirtless men.

Hermione didn't have the urge to pack her bags and head to the Bahamas, yet. But she didn't know who she was anymore. Ron and Harry were always together, getting more girls than they could handle, what with Harry destroying-the-root-of-all-evil and all that. But she couldn't help but feel everything that made her her was falling apart before her very eyes.

Without thinking, she picked up a chair, and threw it against the wall. When it didn't break she kept throwing it, again, again, until it splintered and scratched her palms.

***

"'Dearest Mudblood. Party in my pants. You, Longbottom and Weasley are invited. All my love, Potty.'"

"Malfoy, give that back right now."

"Who's the note from, Granger?"

"It's none of your business, Malfoy."

"I'm making it my business. Who's holding the note?"

"Malfoy, I'm warning you-"

"Get away from me, woman! You crazy bitch!"

"Give. It. Back."

"What's so important about this, anyway? I think I might take a look."

"Malfoy, you wouldn't dare..."

"It's what, a school report? 'I'm very disappointed, Ms Granger'. Well, what's so private about that- Granger, are you crying?"

"No. Give it back."

"Okay, you can have it back, if you tell me why you've suddenly starting blubbering."

"Take it. Keep it. I don't care."

"I want to know."

"Oh FUCK Malfoy, do you just want me to go into a fit of hysteria in front of you? Is that what you want?"

"I didn't-"

"Go away."

"Granger, I wasn't-"

"Fuck you, Malfoy. Really, fuck off and do something useful with yourself. Go wank, if that's what you're into."

"You don't want to start something with me, Granger."

"I think if you don't leave in the next two seconds, I'll start and finish something."

"I'm serious, Granger. If you start something-"

"One."

"Granger-"

"Two. Fuck off."

"Don't you tell me to fuck off, you- fuck! Did you just slap me?"

"No, my hand slipped."

"You just started something."

"I finished it, too."

"Oh, no you didn't. You started something."

***

Oh baby go so slowly. Nowhere, nothing, quiet softly.

Hermione was walking in the bright hall, seconds later, it was black as night. A blindfold covered her eyes and a gag filled her mouth.

"Shh," said an indistinguishable voice. "Quiet."

She could feel rope scratching against her wrists as it was bound and she was being pushed somewhere, somewhere squashy. A door creaked, as if to close it but not completely. She struggled.

"Are you uncomfortable?" Draco's voice drawled.

Her gag was untied.

"You... you..." She was lost for words.

"Isn't this nice," Draco said pleasantly. "You here, all tied up in the broom closet. If I was the kinky sort, this would totally be my kind of thing."

Hermione growled in her throat. "It probably is, you sick, sadistic bastard."

She felt a hand brush against her waist, and she flinched. Draco brushed his lips against her cheek.

"There, there."

"Get your hands off me!" she shrieked, almost hysterically.

Draco laughed. "Don't worry, I wouldn't do anything. I think you've learned your lesson. I just might leave you in the locked broom closet, though, for a little while longer," he said. "With the gag on, of course."

Just then, the door shut with an ominous click.

"Oh shit-"

"Malfoy, was that the door locking?"

Draco rattled the doorknob helplessly.

"No, no, this can't happen-"

"Malfoy," Hermione said breathlessly, trying to control her temper, "do you have any way to unlock the door, by any chance?"

Hermione still couldn't see, but by the way Malfoy was shouting and banging at the door, she figured out the answer.

"The plan," he yelled, "was to leave you in here with the door locked! Not me as well!"

"Well, your plan went wrong then, didn't it?"

Draco ripped Hermione's blindfold off and glared into her eyes. "Of course it fucking did!"

The door rattled, and opened, to reveal Professor Flitwick, and a crowd of students peering in curiously.

"Ah, Mr Malfoy, Ms Granger-"

Hermione wished her blindfold was back on.

"This isn't what it looks like," Draco said flatly.

***

The world falls apart, in just seven days. It sinks to the bottom, in oceans of rain. The cure is so clear, the blood is astray. And everyone dies, except for the rain... and I think that I'm starting to scare myself.

Draco lay face down on his bed. It was getting harder every day, to keep himself moving and talking and walking as if he was fine, as if everything was alright. As if his father hadn't been the one who had... and then...

Fuck.

It was funny, in that bitter ironic way that was never really funny, that the only he felt alive was when he was with Granger. Playing their stupid meaningless tricks on each other that ranged from her writing "WANK" on every single item of his clothing in bright fluorescent letters, to that day in the closet.

So he craved this feeling, of being alive. Of this spark of something. He found himself thinking about new plans, new tricks, new things to do, every second of the day. He obsessed and threw himself into it, and soon a day without Granger was a day of nervousness and shaking and sweating, like a drug addict needing a hit. But when he did do something, it was like a shot of pure adrenalin coursing through his veins, which would soon subside until he thought of another thing to do.

It was better to distract himself, and if it meant he had to keep Granger drug like, he'd do it.

But he felt it was getting harder to stay sane, to keep himself from throwing things and yelling and punching walls, and grabbing a knife and stabbing his father again and again and again until his body was nothing but a giant mess of blood and muscle and bone and Draco with his knife, tearing and...

He was starting to scare himself.

***

I hate myself, and I want you to die. So insincere, swallowing ice. And it all will render useless. Welcome to enhancement by affiliation. Time swept by in a hungry nation. And everybody's dancing to get it off their chests. And everybody dies, but no one gets to rest.

Hermione sat by the Great Lake, automatically placing chips in her mouth, one after the other, not really tasting anymore. The greasiness of food seemed to almost comfort her, as if oil equalled happiness. Well, sometimes it did. She stretched her legs and gazed at the sky.

It was funny, in that bitter ironic way that never really was funny, that the only person she really seemed to talk to anymore was Malfoy. Except she didn't want to play those games anymore. She was sick of them, sick of everything, sick of herself. Everyone seemed so fake. So insincere.

She pushed the chips away. No more. No more of anything.

The meaning of life wafted in her mind briefly. Time was an illusion, really. Life was. Everything was just enhanced and added to and nothing was as it was, original, itself. Nothing was ever good enough. She was never good enough.

She caught sight of herself in the the reflection of the Lake, and grimaced. Bushy hair, lumpy legs. Plain face.

She hated herself.

***

"Hello Granger."

"Malfoy."

"I noticed you haven't decided to adorn my clothing with any more slogans."

"Clever of you."

"So... Weather's nice."

"I don't want to play anymore, Malfoy."

"Play what?"

"This."

"Neither do I."

"Did you ever-"

"Ever what?"

"Hate somebody?"

"I think everyone has, Granger."

"I mean really hate. Would readily kill, if it wasn't for certain... restrictions."

"Restrictions?"

"...limitations. There's something stopping you, but you would, if they weren't there."

"Yep."

"Um, what?"

"Yes, I hate someone that much."

"Oh."

"Who's your person?"

"Not saying."

"It's yourself, isn't it?"

"How-"

"Mine is my father. Fuck him. Next time I see him, I'll slice him in the back until his intestines fall onto the floor."

"Um. Ow."

"You shouldn't hate yourself, you know. You don't know hate."

"I know hate! What makes you the expert? Just because I'm not ready to leave body parts around the place doesn't mean I don't hate."

"You don't really hate."

"I woke up today, and couldn't even look myself in the mirror. I can't stand to hear my own voice, even in my head. Don't you get it? There's nothing here!"

***

Oh baby go so slowly. Nowhere, nothing, quiet softly.

That night, Draco couldn't help think about his last conversation with Granger constantly, replaying it in his head, over and over. He tossed in his bead. He turned. He did fucking backflips.

If he was obsessed with Granger before, he didn't know what he was now. If he was a drug addict, he'd be dead by now. The time he did get a fitful sleep, he woke up with a cold sweat.

There's nothing here. There's nothing here. There's nothing here. She couldn't say those things.

He found his legs walking somewhere. Walking where?

He knew where.

By the time he reached the Lake, she was there already. Standing by it, unbuttoning her pyjama top slowly, so slowly. Folding it, slowly, placing it on the floor. Next the pants.

The moonlight shone softly on her bare skin through the pouring rain, and clad in only her underwear, she hesitated by the lake's side.

Draco found his legs moving faster, faster, then he wasn't walking anymore, he was running.

"Don't. Granger, don't."

"What do you think I'm going to do?" she asked him simply.

"Take a fucking bath. What do you think I fucking think?" he yelled.

She shrugged, not bothering with holding back her tears anymore. "I don't know. I don't know myself."

***

The world falls apart, in just seven days. It sinks to the bottom, in oceans of rain. The cure is so clear, the blood is astray. And everyone dies, except for the rain... and I think that I'm starting to scare myself.

Draco found himself next to Granger, then in front of her, faces close, both breathing heavily into the cold air, their breath turning white. He realised distantly that he was drenched, but he didn't really care.

"I know you," he said, then brushed his lips against hers, softly, slowly.

It felt like they were nothing and nowhere but everything and somewhere as she pushed her lips against his and he responded. Their noses bumped and their teeth clashed but all Draco could think of was tasting her and the salt on her lips and the rain falling around them. There was the roughness of their tongues sliding against each other and the heat of her mouth and the cold on his body and he wasn't sure what to feel, what to think, just to stay like this. When they parted, he gently pushed her wet hair from her face.

"I don't think you know me at all," she said quietly.

"Neither do I."

"But that's okay," she continued.

"I know."

***

Go slow for the angels will fall. For the betterness of this orgy god. Half lives, with secular law. Suspended in a drug like state of bliss.

Sometimes, Draco still had bad dreams. He still got cold sweats, he still woke up shaking and screaming.

But he was out of Hogwarts and he had never felt better in the frosty night, watching the snow fall around him. No more class. No more Potter. Even better, no more fawning Potter fans.

And he had his drug now. And when he had her, he was in a state of bliss.

Drug like, almost.

Except better.