I do not own Harry Potter or other characters from Rowling.

Angsty Harry, Drug use, Slash, OOCness.

Harry Potter, the savior to be! Harry Potter, the loyal Gryffindor and embodiment of good! Harry Potter, the Wizarding World's greatest weapon against Voldemort and his nefarious plans! Harry Potter… the drunkard? The Pot Head? And oh… the Potion's addict?

Pot Leaves and Apple Seeds

Chapter One

He rolls his eyes up to the ceiling slowly, finding pleasure in the way his body seems to float in the direction in which his head turns, his lips curling into the smallest of smiles as he stares unfocused at the white walls.

He managed to get his hands on some good, potent stuff this time. He isn't even sure on how he had gotten his hands on it, other than the fact that some new bloke had decided that this little rich neighborhood full of people like the Dursley's would be the perfect place to stake a claim and start dishing out goods that have never even been heard of before.

Purple Rain… he muses to himself, tongue prickling as his taste buds recall the flavor that has been newly introduced to him. A hint of grape…

He's always liked the flavor of grapes. Sweet and yet tart, a perfect contradiction that always sends his mouth watering just by thinking about it. More so, now, he muses as he forces his body to roll over on that little bed provided only out of fear, his stomach meeting the somewhat scratchy bedspread as his right arm dangles over the side of the bed and his eyes stare blearily at the bedroom door.

He's hungry.

Really, he should have expected it. He's always hungry afterwards, even if it's not very much. He runs his tongue out over his lips, testing, and finds that he is craving something to drink as well. To be expected, he sighs in his own mind before hauling himself up onto his bare feet, too-bi g sweat pants sagging dangerously low on his protruding hip bones as he pads towards the door and tugs on it with a yawn.

The house is dark; it's late after all. The sharp, almost dank smell of his activities follows him out into the hallway but he doesn't mind. It's not as if the Dursley's will complain about it… too afraid, or too uncaring really. His new habits keep him out of their hair and tucked away quietly in his little bedroom for the entirety of the long summer days, and even the absence of Hedwig makes them even more receptive to his new little hobby.

The Owl herself is staying with Hermione, courtesy of his 'kindness' since her parents wanted to go on a trip and she wanted to still be able to stay in touch with Ron and himself. Sure, he misses her. But really, she probably would stay out in the wild as much as possible, what with the heavy air and smell that nearly always blankets his little room at Number Four, Privet drive.

He is slow and silent as he moves down the stairs and into the kitchen, sleepy lidded eyes roaming around the dark before settling on the pantry in an almost detached fashion. Although normally they would protest if they found food missing, he has also noticed that this summer has brought on a slight understanding between him and his so called family.

As long as he didn't show himself during meal times, or any other time for that matter, he could pilfer through the food in the pantry and fridge as often as he wants, given he doesn't eat any of 'Duddly-kins' chocolate cake, or Vernon's precious leftovers.

He doesn't want any real food anyways and so he settles on a nice large bag of potato chips stored away in the side bottom shelf of the pantry, one that he knows is near its expiration date, and carries it up to his room with that floaty feeling carrying his mind off to other places, and other things.

After a few handfuls of salty chips and another glance in the drawer of the nightstand beside his bed, he concludes that before the last few days of his summer vacation is over with, he really does need to track down that boy again and restock his supplies.

He highly doubts that Hogwarts has a plethora of marijuana, after all.

…

It had all started very innocently, and obviously unplanned. Cedric had died and then Sirius had died and everything had gone wrong so Harry, now sixteen but only fifteen at the time, had felt the impact of everything too fast and at too high of a scale.

It had been one of Dudley's friends who had suggested it. Harry was having a hard time sleeping… more so than normal, with Cedric's dying eyes and pained face flickering in and out of his minds' eye, and Voldermort's mocking laughter haunting his consciousness as Sirius's mouth opens in astonished misbelief.

With dark circles under his eyes and haggard steps that led him through the nearly empty house, he had been surprised to find Petunia and Vernon gone, but Dudley and two of his fat lackeys sitting in the living room bent over the coffee table, watching as the older one messed with something upon the wood.

After a few thrown insults from Dudley, and a failed escape attempt, the older male whom Harry had later learned was named Pete had made a comment about Harry's rather emaciated appearance. Harry had not said anything, Dudley had gratefully supplied that Harry often woke screaming in nightmares, and Pete had said that he had just the thing to help Harry out.

Not much persuasion was needed after that and, an hour later, Harry had found himself on a completely different level of relaxed, and completely devoid of any care of anything that involved Wizards, Voldemort, or death.

And so, he continued. And continued, and kept on smoking the little rolled blunts until it became almost necessary because otherwise he would find himself waking in shivers, holding back screams of horror at dreams soaked in blood and a deep pain in his chest reminiscent of his feelings at watching others die.

He moves down the platform towards the train, hazy eyes scanning the bustling Hogwarts students in disinterest as he debates on whether or not he should wait for Ron and Hermione, his trunk already deposited in the belly of the train and his hands twitching towards the pocket of his dark blue hoodie where an already rolled blunts rests innocently in a small little bag, sealed away in case the craving becomes too great on the way to the castle.

He should be fine, for now. He had made sure to wake up earlier than normal so that he could smoke before his shower, his stuff neatly packed away in his trunk and his newly acquired stash tucked away in the folds of his invisibility cloak. He feels a moment of gratification that the Hogwarts staff doesn't snoop through the students' belongings. He would hate to have to explain why he-

"Harry!"

Ah, there they are.

He slows to a stop and looks off to his right side, watching as a head of bushy brown hair accompanied by tell-tale red barrel in his direction and he feels that slow smile creeping up over his features as his two closest friends draw up to him, a pair of long arms in the form of Hermione throwing themselves around his frame to pull him into a hug.

He returns it, briefly, and is out of her arms a second later as Ron claps his hand across his shoulders with a wide grin, eyes blazing. "Heya, Mate! Blimey are you a sight for sore eyes."

That's right. Harry had forgotten: Ron had been sent to spend some time with Percy over the summer, the stuck up boot licker that his brother is. How boring that must have been. Harry hadn't been writing to him while he was gone for the simple fact that Ron hadn't been writing him, either. Harry doesn't begrudge him for it.

They exchange pleasantries and other small talk as they make their way onto the train and into an empty compartment, Harry listening more than talking. There really isn't any reason for him to speak; life at the Dursley's is boring, and so he listens to Ron's woes and Hermione's recount of how absolutely beautiful her trip had to been, and he is assured over and over again that Hedwig will be waiting for him whenever he gets to Hogwarts.

If they notice that he is abnormally silent, they say nothing about it. Nor do they comment on how he seems to drift away from their conversation every now and then, or that he seems abnormally lethargic. Well, sometimes it's good to have friends who think they know what you are going through.

…..

Cooped up hours later in the Room of Requirement, the invisibility cloak resting beside him as he lays out on the magically conjured bed and watches the smoke curl up and away from his barely parted lips, he wonders if perhaps this year will be better than the last.

…..

Time line and happenings won't be the same as the books, obviously, so bare with me please. Hope you enjoyed the first chapter, though it might have been a bit vague. It's meant to be that way for a reason, at least for now. Because, after all, Harry's own mind is clouded with the substance that is Marijuana.