Warning: This contains character death. Oh and SLASH.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Addicted:

I have his taste now. I lick my lips so often their once smooth planes are chapped and bleeding.

It all started with the violence. The uncontrollable urge to kill each other. The red haze that masked our vision every time we were alone in a hallway with no one to stop us. It was instinct. We were rivals fighting for territory. We were blood enemies.

We were a blur of fury and fists. One could not tell where on of us ended and the other began. We were lucky we didn't kill each other. Though we both wanted to accomplish that desperately.

We fought until we couldn't move an inch more. Our bodies were broken and bruised. We'd smile at each other then, and heal each other's wounds. Then we would part ways.

It was our secret. Our bloody secret. It was special. It made each of us feel needed. We weren't alone in the black abyss of life. We had something and someone to count on for once in our godforsaken lives.

We weren't just the death eater's son and the boy who lived.

But it is all ruined now.

I slammed him into the wall. I ran my tongue down the planes of his face. His pale skin was so hot. It burned like fire. And the copper taste of blood filled my senses.

I took it too far. I went past the line. I fucked up royally.

He won't look at me now. He won't respond to my taunts. I am invisible to him. I am dead.

But late at night, he still comes to that hallway. He still beats me until I bleed out of every orifice. And he enjoys it.

And I can still taste him. No matter where I go. No matter whom I kiss. Who I bed. He is always with me.

And he knows it.

He knows me too well, I believe.

He knows what move I will make, the words I will say, the decisions that run through my mind. I daresay, he could be me.

I want him to be with me.

He knows that too. That's why he enjoys beating me so.

He likes seeing my love run red on the cold stone of the castle. He loves to hear me beg and scream. He likes the pain he can inflict. I see it in his eyes.

I would allow him salt to burn my wounds, and the knife to cut my heart out. He wouldn't take it.

But I would gladly give it.

Because once you taste forbidden fruit, you can never go back.

I am addicted to him. Forever.

He will be my demise. My downfall. My weakness.

I can't go a day with him near me. If I had the power, I'd handcuff him to me. He'd never get away.

I don't have that power.

I'm too good, and too bad at the same time. I am the light and the dark. He can't stand me. I can't stand him. I love him.

It is all just too confusing. But the pain without his confusing mess is worse than any beating he could give.

And so tonight I will tell him all this. Then he will beat me and laugh. Then he will walk away. I'll heal my own wounds, and I will cry.

He is my drug, and at least I will have a taste.

He is my drug, and his hate is good enough.

But maybe I am his addiction too?

Yes, I can see it in his eyes. The subtle way he touches me gently and manages harm at the same time.

This love and hate dance can not last forever.

And to leave each other…

Well the pain would be unbearable.

The detox would kill is both.

This is worse than any illegal drug. Worse than Dark magic.

Worse than anything you might imagine.

Worse than anything I can imagine.

I take out a pair of handcuffs.

I could do it. I could.

I will.

He will be mine forever.

I will make him a cage.

A cage in my heart.

What a wonderful plan.

Harry walks slowly down the hall.

Draco meets him in the middle.

Both boys are smiling.

They throw their wands to the side.

Why use magic? Their fists are so much more brutal.

The beating begins.

Soon both are bleeding badly, and yet the fists still fly.

Harry howls in pain as Draco slams his head into the wall.

And his eyes close.

Draco bends over, suddenly shocked.

Harry moans. The sound thick over blood that seeps between his gums.

Draco laughs madly.

He's finally done it. He's killed the boy.

He's won.

Harry's chest stops moving.

And Draco presses his lips to the dark haired boy.

"This will kill me too."

The irony is too great, and Draco's maniacal laughter echoes for ages.

He slumps against the wall and takes Harry's cold, limp hand into his.

"I love you."

The whisper is slow.

It is barely audible.

And Draco closes his eyes.

His chest stops moving as well.

He won. He lost.

All at the same time.

Addictions are always deadly.