Bruised by a Lady in Black
Disclaimer: I don't own the HP world or Death Cab for Cutie's song "I Will Follow You into the Dark" where I got the title and the inspiration.
Summary: The war is over and Hermione is trying to cope.
Sometimes, the way towards the Light is down a road of Darkness. Eventually, it all builds up and some people have difficulty going back.
The cauldron glistened with the color of amber, the color of thick viscous caramel that had yet to set. Seven turns clockwise, now two leaves of sage infused with bergamot, and a slow turn in the other direction. Her watch ticked four past ten and a shuddering breath was released. Only a few more turns util the potion could simmer for an hour. White teeth took grip of a pale pink bottom lip in concentration, these last few turns were the reason she was making such a difficult potion for the fifth time in the row. The hand that held the glass stirring rod shock violently, disrupting the slow stir that was needed. Amber turned the color of burnt oil, complete with the abstract shapes of green that were only a shade lighter than black.
Shit. Another potion ruined. The still shaking hand vanished the contents of the cauldron with the help of a worn wand. Shit. Shit. Shit. Hermione ran her other hand across her sweaty forehead. She bit her lip, hard. The young woman used the pain to ground herself. She didn't have enough ingredients to make another batch, not to mention that acromantula venom had been steadily getting pricier due to the fungus that was effectively dwindling the species. This wouldn't do, her supply had been empty for the past few weeks and she couldn't take the symptoms or the nightmares anymore.
Hermione cleaned up her brewing space and shrunk the cauldron so that it fit into the pocket of her robes. She pushed open the door of the current toilet she had taken residence in and came face to face with Moaning Myrtle.
"Oooh, brewing potions in secret again? And in my favorite toilet no less." Hermione walked right through the ghost, silently relishing the ice cold sensation as it momentarily took her mind off her headache. The ghost cried indignantly before plunging herself straight into the u-bend. The Head Girl came out of the girl's bathroom with a sour look on her face before making her way towards the dormitory she shared with Draco, hopefully he would still be on his rounds. Her steps quickened the closer she got to their portrait hole until she was panting to a brilliantly painted panther, its glowing eyes peering at her from its frame. She mumbled the password under her breath and the panther looked at her suspiciously before allowing the frame to swing open. As soon as the opening was free Hermione rushed in, dropping her bag in the middle of the common room.
With a complete lack of grace she dropped to her knees and started to rummage around the room, looking in all the areas she previously hid vials and bottles of Lady in Black. Each hiding place held an empty glass container and she cursed again. Soon enough at least a dozen empty vials that once held a dose of the anti-depressant were strewn around her, clinking as she rolled them around lightly. Her back was against the couch, shoulders slumped in defeat. Hermione stared at the empty vials for a long time before rushing towards the mirror in the corner of the room. She stared at it hesitantly before breaking the glass with an unnecessarily strong spell. The Gryffindor looked through the broken glass with her hands, ignoring the pain and the shakes, not caring that she was staining the rug or her sickly pale face with blood. In less than a minute she found what she was looking for, a glass flask the size of her fist filled with the familiar amber colored liquid. The label clearly read Lady in Black but Hermione had hid this for emergencies only; this bottle would most likely have no effect. She had stopped using the name brand ages ago, creating her own more concentrated brew to keep herself in check.
The young woman had an almost crazed look in her eyes as she lifted the glass into the light, sighing as the liquid shined like treasure in movies. Her happiness upon finding the last vial turned dark the longer she looked at it. She didn't need it, for its designed purpose anyway. She hadn't needed it for a long time, not since the war was over, the Death Eaters were in Azkaban, and the nightmares had dissipated, at least as long as she kept taking the potion. No, Hermione needed it for a whole other reason. At first she had nearly gagged as the foul tasting liquid came in contact with her tongue. She had hated its smell that reminded her of licorice combined with children's cough syrup. Most of all she abhorred the feel of it as it went down her throat; first it was hot like Firewhiskey then it cooled til she could feel the cold in the pit of her stomach. But now, now she needed to see the color and smell the aftertaste of licorice as the smooth liquid burned her throat. She needed it to burn. She needed things to hurt.
Hermione tossed the vial from one hand to the other, feeling its heaviness. Sure, she had been losing weight these past few months and throwing up a bit more than usual but that was okay, everything was still okay. Her eyes were so focused on the anti-depressant that she had not heard the portrait door open.
"Blood hell! Granger, what the—" When he spied what was in her hand he slowly put his bag on the ground. "Hermione, give me the bottle." He extended his hand while approaching her cautiously. Hermione had sworn she had stopped taking the addictive anti-depressant but he should have seen the signs of addiction and withdrawal. She was thinner than she had been months ago and had a sickly pallor to her skin. She had been throwing up and looked more anxious than ever but he had chalked it up to her nightmares. Hermione looked at him with a frightened, yet helpless look. He bent down and placed a hand on her shoulder; she flinched. He curled his hand over her own and relinquished the solution from her grip.
"Hermione, you should have told me." He wiped a tear form her cheek, smearing the blood in doing so. He would need to fix that. He was surprised she hadn't decided to fight him. He glanced at the broken mirror. Weasley was right; Hermione was brilliant, but scary. "C'mon, we need to clean your wounds." Hermione allowed him to pull her up and lead her to the bathroom. She didn't even make a fuss when he opted to clean her hands the Muggle way.
"So, how long have you been lying about the Lady in Black?" Hermione looked at him with eyes that shouldn't belong to a teenager. Then again, all of their eyes probably looked the same.
"Since August." It was nearly April now. Draco sighed. "I've been brewing my own since January." He stiffened. She had most likely been brewing because the concentration hadn't been enough. Merlin, this girl…..He pressed the alcohol swab more definitively into her cut hand and did nothing to alleviate it when she hissed. He healed her hands with magic before looking at her with cold eyes.
"They're clean." He said, tossing the swab into the trash. "You should take a shower." He closed the door loudly behind him. Draco walked into the common room that the two of them shared and narrowed his eyes at the mess. He repaired the mirror with a flick of his wrist and collected all the empty vials with a wave before dumping them into the trash bin. He stoked the fire before taking a seat on the rather plush couch. Why didn't Hermione tell him? Surely there was enough trust between them after two and a half years of dating. He only took his eyes off the flames when he felt a depression next to him.
"Are you mad?" He snorted. What a childish question. He felt Hermione's shaky fingers slide through his hair. Well, according to the violent way her fingers were stuttering against his skull she had at least tried to stop. Her withdrawal symptoms attested to that. She had most likely only recently succumbed. He pulled her hand from his hair and kissed her palm.
"You should have told me." She was crying again, he didn't like it when she cried. She tried to wipe away her tears but they just kept falling.
"I th-th-thought I could t-t-take care of it myself. I didn't th-th-think it w-w-would come to th-th-this." She was sobbing uncontrollably now. Draco held her like she was the only one in the world. He held her much like the times she would come to his room in the middle of the night with nightmares running around her head. He looked out the window, it was raining. Hermione didn't like storms much either ever since the war.
"It's alright. I'm glad you didn't take it an hour ago." Her hair was still wet and was starting to frizz at the ends.
"I really really wanted to." Draco chuckled softly into her neck and was rewarded with a weak laugh from his girlfriend.
"You did good Hermione." The girl buried her face into his shirt, wrapping her arms securely around his waist. She coughed, apologizing before running to the bathroom. Draco could hear her cough for a few more moments before he was gifted with silence. When she didn't return after a few minutes he went after her, worried. She was shaking on the floor, clutching at her hair. He was concerned that she would pull it out completely if he didn't do something; he rather liked her hair despite its bushiness. He picked her up and carried her to his bed; she would have been there anyway with the weather outside.
A flash illuminated his window, followed by a loud clap of thunder that made Hermione whimper. He took off his robes, his shirt, and his pants. Clad in only his boxers he joined Hermione in his bed, pulling up the covers to cover them both. Her skin was cold and he was glad to share his warmth. She was secure in his arms and he hummed a soft melody that was often used for infants. Everything was going to be alright, Hermione would get over her addiction with his help along with her friends. He would make sure of it.