TItle: Deep As You Go
Author: Dragon_Badfaith
Beta: None (If you want to please do)
Summary: Albus Severus never knew just how far things would escalate when he first sniffed the powder sitting on the mirror. Now the downward spiral has ended and how will he escape?
Warnings: Drug Abuse, Foul Language, Adult situations
Word Count: 4,414
He sniffles in the dark, I lay in bed pretending not to hear. This is his nightly routine, who am I to make him stop? He rubs his nose, once, twice and then cleans up the evidence; stashing it away. I close my eyes just in time for him to glance this way. I shuffle a little in my "sleep" then settle hearing him wipe at his nose again. Silently I wonder what makes him continue, what makes me continue to listen and not act. It wasn't always this way, once upon a time we both knew what we wanted and kept our heads clear.
Then the team started traveling. And more banquets and people whose faces and names don't matter anymore. A whispered offer in a posh sitting room. Trembling hands and a tremor of fear. Staring into his eyes and we both nod. Thinking we want this, whatever this is. The first time is almost always the best. I remember the euphoria that came over me and the smile that split his face. It was the best place in the world to be.
And it seemed to stay that way for a time. We would play, get high and then sleep. Rinse and repeat, life became dull we no longer cared for the game. We experimented. Drugs, sex, and the sounds of life beating harshly through our veins. But we were young and didn't care. Our families started to worry and then our friends stopped talking to us. Finally we were all we had in the world.
A twitch and a sneeze, muttered cursing under his breath as he cleans the house with a toothbrush. His actions hurried and jerky. I rise from the bed and look down on him.
His once white blond hair is stringy and dark from days of being inside and no washing. His arms covered in blood spots, some scabbed over some still bleeding. A movement of his arm and his inner elbow is visible the bruising and the dot of blood running down his forearm lets me know it's not just one thing tonight.
I sigh and think of our days in school turning a little to look at the picture from graduation. He's hugging me with one arm and we are cheering and smiling. I look at his worn face now as he frowns in concentration cleaning the floor, scrubbing some unseen speck of dirt. I look back to his picture.
'Once upon a time, I had loved a smile like that.' But now it's gone. He never smiles these days but neither do I, much. I keep thinking the best thing for me would be to leave him. I could wait until he crashes and while he sleeps pack my meager things and beg my case with my family. I haven't seen them in years. They stopped coming to call when I started prostituting myself to feed my habit.
I like to think of my addiction as being softer than his but it's a lie and we both know it. The proof is when we run out of cash for the stash. Then it's all loud pitches and incomprehensible words thrown back and forth like an American football. Then the shattering glass and broken splinters. We no longer even bother replacing anything we break. What's the use? It will just be broken again in time.
I stop my whirring thoughts and focus once more on him. He sniffles and wipes his nose. His head jerks up and he stares into my eyes, but I can tell it's not me he is seeing anymore. It is something, someone else. He starts to shake, his tremors taking over and he stares once again at the floor. More cursing and wiping. I shuffle around to lay on my side and fall asleep.
When I wake the sun is shining in my face and he is sleeping next to me clutching his arm to his chest with the other twitching and scratching at it like a nervous twitch. I snort quietly and stand, the floorboards creaking. Stretching towards the roof and then to the floor I look at my love and smile sadly. I pack what small belongings I can claim as mine and write a note that turns into a letter. Sniffling quietly I fold it and write his name in a few short letters. Dropping the pen on the floor as I walk out the door, not looking back. Seeing in my minds eye what will happen when he wakes up. He will do his normal routine of rubbing his eyes, then his nose and finally sitting up putting his too thin legs and feet onto the floor. He will use the eye dropper to cleanse his eyes then stand and walk to the bathroom. Afterward he will come out and finally realize that I am not there. He may not notice the note immediately but may assume I went to work or something. After a few hours have past and so has his first high of the day he will notice the letter and read over it. I know he won't get through more than the first two paragraphs before snorting and dropping the letter before he starts to cry. He will then notice that all my things are gone, but I left to him those few things that were labeled ours. He will sit on the bed and wallow in self pity for a minute before becoming angry. He will break our last remaining chair and probably snort or shoot something to calm him down. It will take him a few days, maybe even a week to work through all the words that are printed in the letter. Going through them one by one and after making all the way through doing it all once more.
I wipe my eyes before the salt water falls. This is not how I envisioned our lives together and I know that there is more to it than what we have now. I adjust the shoulder strap of my satchel and apparate away to the one place that I have wanted to be for the last year.
The same trees are in the front yard, taller and fuller than they were the last time that I was on this street. The same mailbox, the paint now warn with time and lovingly repainted in select spots. There are a few new plants on the porch but along the same lines of what has been there all along. I wipe my eyes again and then my nose before walking towards the front door. I step onto the porch and the second step creaks, something else that has changed in the time I have been away. I breath in deeply the same smells from my childhood mingle with new and unfamiliar scents. I straighten my shoulders and knock on the door.
The sound echoes in the silence that envelopes the house until, there, a single sound of a creaking step. A few shuffled steps and a soft thud followed by the cursory mumbled complaints. Finally the door handle turns and the door opens inward slowly revealing a short, balding man with thick glasses in wire frames. His once full head of black hair is thin and receding the glasses thicker but the color of his eyes and the faded scar tell me who he is in an instant.
"Al?" He says blinking rapidly looking me up and down while clutching at the door handle for support.
I nod.
He gives me a once over and a sniff before a hard emotion freezes the tears that were forming in his eyes. "What's this all about?"
I cough and look at the ground, wall and roof. Trying to think of what to say, I hadn't thought it out this far. I knew it wouldn't be all roses and butterflies. I form the sentence innumerable times before opening my mouth once more. He has started to close the door on me, the emotion flickering on his face one of forlorn rage. I stop the door.
"Dad." My voice cracks, harsh from little use other than screaming or moaning in pleasure. I take a step closer lifting my arm, the tears welling up as I take another step. "Daddy."
I steps back, in fear I think, his own tears starting to over flow. He watches as I sink to my knees half in, half out of the house. My tears dropping on to the floor of the entrance way, I hiccup and reach one hand to him. Tentatively he takes it, his own grip strong despite the looks of him; but he always did have that hidden strength. He pulls me up and into his arms hugging me close. I shake and pull him even closer. The smell of his clothes reminding me of times when I would have a bad dream and would rush to his bed, or his study and he would cuddle me and tell me every thing was all right. That's all I hoped for now, was those reassurances, no matter how empty they would prove to be. He mutters a few and rubs my back pulling me into the house and shutting the door. He hugs me once more a bit harder moving his hands to my shoulders and looking up into my tear stained face.
"Al, what's is it? What did he do? Why now?" The questions tumbling out of his mouth he stops himself at the look of pain when he mentioned Scor. He hugs me close again and pets my hair down, as much as he can from his height.
"I...I need." I struggle through the hiccups and the tears for the words to come. I never thought it would be this hard.
"What is it Al, I'll do anything." He says and I see it in his eye, my eyes, he really would do anything for me at this minute, even if I asked him to kill me.
"I need...yo...your help." I say slowly he pulls my bag off me and pulls me toward the kitchen. He pushes me lightly into a chair and shuffles around making tea the muggle way. I knew this upset him, he would always do things the muggle way when he was upset, said that it calmed him to go through all the steps. He returns to my side kneeling in front of me and looking up into my face again.
"Anything." He repeats. I start to cry harder again the coughs coming hard and racking my body with hash jolts of pain. After I calm I look back at him and manage a wan smile.
"Rehab." I mutter quietly. The first time I have said the word without malice or hatred. I always thought that the lazy asses who couldn't quit themselves were weak. Now I know better. He leans closer and I know he didn't hear me the first time. I say it once more a little louder, "Rehab."
He jolts back almost falling on his ass. He looks at me, really looks at me. My hair I know is unkempt and stringy, my eyes are sunken in with sleep deprived circles almost drowning them, my clothes are baggy and full of rips and tears. My skin stretched too far over my bones, almost every one of them showing. I look at him pleading with all the emotion left inside to help.
"Are you serious about this? Because I won't let you go again. I can't lose you again." He says finally nodding to himself as he stands. This is when I notice a figure standing in the door, hand to her mouth and tears streaming down her face. She is in her housecoat and slippers.
I nod. No words can come as I look over the changes that have happened in the time I've been away, I realize that I don't even remember when it was when they walked away. Had to have been at least three years because that was before the last time Scor overdosed. My eyes tear up and I lift my hands to my face as I shake with silent tears. The longing and ache to have him in my arms is almost too much. I find myself half way between standing and sitting and push myself back down into the chair. Moving my hands and wiping away the tears I see my mother standing closer now one hand clasping the locket on her breast the other reaching towards me as if I am an illusion. I open my mouth and close it. The words locking up in my throat once more. I force the most important one through.
"Mummy?" My voice still sounds terrible and she sobs as she rushes to me and clutches me as tightly as she can manage. Her long, red hair filling my peripheral vision. I clutch her just as tight, the sobs and the shaking is back. I cough a little and pull her closer.
We pull apart to the sounds of the teacups being set on the table, three of the steaming mugs. The scent of chamomile fills my nose for the first time in what feels like a lifetime.
Mum's face is red and she wipes the tears before looking at me again and giving a small sob, clutching again at the locket. I know inside is a picture of the three of us kids. Back right after Lily graduated. Right before the touring, and the eventual decent into darkness.
I twist the band on my left ring finger, a simple silver piece that neither Scor nor I could ever part with, or at least that I couldn't. I don't know how Scor will react with his after what I just did, I sniffle a little at the thought. Looking back up I realize that Mum had asked me a question, I knew because Dad's quiet muttering of "Gin." It must have to do with the ring, or Scor. Mum never liked him, Dad didn't at first either but after three years of us being together at school and him visiting every holiday Scor grew on him.
"He... he isn't coming." I said, guessing correctly from her look that had been the question. My dad rubbed my back and sipped at his tea. I then remembered the cup in my own hands. Taking a small sip I looked at both of my parents faces. "I...left this morning. I couldn't stand to watch him waste away anymore. I didn't want us to end this way." I know the tears are coming freely again. "I...I think that if I can get clean. Then...then maybe I can get him clean too. And we can have the life we talked about after Hogwarts, before the drugs. But I need your help, I... I need this more than anything I have ever asked you for; please, please, please, please, please." I am sobbing again repeating the word and I realize when my dad puts his hand back on my shoulder I was rocking back and forth. "It hurts."
And that's when any resolve they may have harbored against the idea was shattered. They both rushed me like I was the snitch for the World Cup. Holding me close and muttering softly, the reassurances that I most needed to hear. I let them keep me enfolded feeling full and loved for the first time in so very long. That's when the first set of cravings hit me like a bag of bricks. My veins were on fire and my arms and legs itching like mad. I started shaking even worse. They both backed away and look at me as I hugged my legs to them.
"I need ...to...get... get... help. Help!" I almost screamed with the pain, Mum's face filling with pain as she covered her mouth again darting side to side ever so slightly, not knowing what to do and hating it. My dad took action and called up the floo to St. Mungo's. In a few short moments there was a trained team poking and prodding and asking Mum and Dad all these questions they didn't know the answers to, then they turned the inquisition on me. I answered every one of the questions as truthfully as I could remember. The look of horror spread on Mum's face and worked its way over to Dad's like a slimy snake. More poking and prodding and a few potions later I was in a bubble of warmth and could barely understand anyone. The Healer was gesturing to me and my father looked a bit angry but then relented. I learned later that the Healer was complementing my father on his wonderful parenting skills. Dad almost decked him and I don't blame him.
The next memory I have is one of intense pain, long and drawn out. Screaming and tearing at the tubes and vials near me and in me. Screaming until I coughed up blood. Then a flood of green robes and a cloud of silence. This continued in a never ending pattern for what seemed like forever, in reality it was a total of two weeks. I learned that in this time my sister, Lily, my brother, James, Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron had all come to see me. Scor was no where to be seen.
When I was finally straight enough to start the physical rehabilitation I told my doctor about Scor, where to find him and to tell him I was alright. Really I just needed to know that this was all worthwhile and that he wasn't dead. I still felt that he was alive. I pleaded with the doctors and my family to go to him and let him know everything was all right, to try and help him. Reluctantly they all nodded and said they would do their best. None of them ever went.
The one who found him was actually Lily. She brought him in after tricking him into her car while he was on the corner selling himself for more money to feed his habit. She was dragging by the arm when they came through the door. I was sitting up and eating a dinner of soup and very soft bread with no crust. I had barely worked up to that much solid food and was immensely proud of myself.
I remember the look of horror on his face when he saw me in the hospital robe under the white sheet and blanket. The idenification bracelet having slid down my arm to the elbow, still hanging loose. I remember my shock at his appearance. He seemed to have lost even more weight and the shadows over his eyes were a dark purple. He shuffled closer to me sniffing and wiping his nose with his sleeve.
"Al?" He says, his voice just as gruff as mine had been when I disappeared. "Why?" He started to move towards me, weather in anger or joy I could not tell as he collapsed mid-step. Lils in all her wonderful brightness screamed for a doctor. An entire team of Apprentices came running in and immediately saw Scorpius laying on the floor. Checking his pulse one of the witches called for help as the others turned him onto his back and emptied his pockets. Levitating him they looked over to Lils and started the same line of questions they had asked when I was brought in. Lils opened her mouth to reply she didn't know when I piped up.
I listed every drug I knew he had been using, could still be using and had used farther back in the past. I listed off every last bit of information before the questions were completely out of their mouths.
"Please." It was then that I felt the tears making their way down my face. "Save him."
The Healer nodded and pushed his levitated body out of the room and down the hall. I knew it would be hard, even harder for him then me. I had wanted this. He did not, at least he didn't right now. But after seeing him I couldn't let him go again. I knew that at the minute that very second that every breath was not worth breathing unless I had him there to share it with me.
Back at the beginning when we were still just messing around with the stuff and not seriously into any of it he had asked me a simple question.
"How far are you willing to follow me?"
I responded immediately, "As deep as you go."
I never knew that we would fall so far, so fast. But now I had started to climb that golden ladder trying to reach level ground. Beside me I saw him, not on a ladder but an elevator. Never one for personal sacrifice. When we were out I would have to watch him closely, I know how he is and if he wants something he will do anything to get it. And I had seen junkies like me before they continued on the straight and narrow, at least mostly and didn't let it pull them all the way back in. But those who are forced through it, I know, are more likely to just go right back in. So I had to give him an incentive to stay clean, and stay with me.
It was weeks before he was fit for visitors. Even me. Not that he had many other than me, a few of our friends from school and every once and a while my dad. I was there from the moment they let me in until they kicked me back to my room. I was almost all the way through, he was just starting to be able to spend a few hours off the pain meds without screaming.
I would hold him close and pet his cleanly washed hair. Murmuring sweet nothings and promises of the future. Cradling him to me as he sobbed.
"It hurts Al, it hurts." He would say over and over as I pet his back and held him through the shaking.
I would whisper, "One day soon I will hold you like the sun holds the moon."
Once he reached the point of physical rehabilitation and working his way back to normal eating habits I knew this was the hardest part for him. I would stand by as he worked his legs, arms and chest getting the muscles used to moving and working without the potions and the drugs. They weaned him slowly off the pain meds and eventually I was released. It was so hard going back to the normal hustle and bustle of life. My parents let me stay in my old room, mum being home all the time watched over me and gave me chores to occupy my time when I wasn't at the hospital. I never complained, just smiled and hugged her before going at it.
I was out completely for three and half weeks when the Healers stated that Scorp was good to go. I asked my Dad if we could stay with them for a while before getting back on our feet and he agreed after laying down some ground rules. Mum wasn't quite so complacent, she rowed with Dad long into the night over having 'that man' sleep in her house. Dad won though, he almost always does, and Scorpius came to live with us the next day.
I had started a small part time job working at the local market doing odd jobs and cleaning up any messes. So I knew that I wouldn't be there to watch him every day. But after taking to Mum she agreed to keep an eye on him and had him help around the house, as not to appear too overbearing.
Scor did not react well to this, as he told me in not so many words when I came home. I told him it was either that or to find a job.
"Piss off, Al. Don't force me to be you. Just cause life is all butterflies and cupcakes to you doesn't mean I see it through the same rose tinted glasses. Life sucks, get over it. Now sod off." He pushed away from me and stormed out the door. I was half tempted to follow him until I saw my dad fold his paper neatly and walk quietly through the front door. I knew he was going after Scor and I hoped that he was gentle. Scor is all prickly on the outside but is as fragile as Tiffany glass.
They didn't return until after I was asleep. The light coming on woke me and I rolled over to see Scor undressing. Since he went through the therapy he was no longer a walking skeleton, just filling out in all the right places and getting the small amount of muscle tone that his body would allow. The line of his back as he took off his shirt, the curve of his ass while he dropped his pants. I was hard instantly and realized just how much I missed having us, not him and me as we had been for the last few months. But us as in we, the two of us together. Lifting the blanket on his side I pat the bed.
Sighing heavily he sits and then allows himself to be enveloped by my arms and cuddled into me. I pet his hair back and whisper into his ear.
"I'm sorry love." I hug him tighter to me. He rolls around to face me and kisses my cheek.
"Me too."
And it was then that I knew he would never go back, nor would I. We still had such an uphill battle to face. Working our way through the world but at least we would have each other.
"I think day is now and I will hold you my moon. Let us keep shining through."