I've been on a writing hiatus for a long time now and decided that it's time to come back. I've been in kind of a dark place for a while. I took time to take care of my mental health and now I'm ready to take those ugly feelings and channel them into something productive. Over the past God-knows-how-long I've been writing some dark stuff. Some of it feels too personal to share but some of it will be posted soon. I tend to take a cynical approach when dealing with depression. None of this is a joke, none of this is making light of addiction. This was written when I was feeling very down. This was the way I helped myself cope. Always remember to take time for you and do what makes you happy.

The title comes from the song "Nothing Else Matters" by Metallica.

I hope you enjoy my little drabble.

My mother had always told me that a good kiss should make you feel like the world is spinning. It should make you feel as if you don't know anything, your name, where you are, all your worries. "Love is the best therapy" she'd said. Since I hadn't found someone to kiss me like that I had to resort to other methods of forgetting.

The first was desperately grasping on to vices. I spent nearly every night at the Leaky Cauldron for approximately three months after the battle, in and out of a drunken haze. The first month, it was to forget the battle itself and all of the people that were lost. Needless to say, I had drinking buddies. The second was to mourn the infatuation I had with one Ronald Bilius Weasley who had crushed my fragile heart harder than I crushed on him for years. "I Thought you were better than this." He said to me. I found solace in the arms of any wizard that would buy me a drink. During the third month, I had no idea what to do. All I had known was swirling thoughts and the sting of firewhisky down my throat. I couldn't stop.

Then Tom cut me off. Ginny took me to the burrow and locked me in her room for a few weeks. She'd mutter under her breath when I moaned about needing a drink. "It's a wonder you're not broke with all of the drinking you did." She had her "disapproving mother" act down pat. Instead of turning to the hard stuff she buried herself in housework and making sure everyone else was alright. When I asked her where Ron was she told me he'd skipped town. He was off in Merlin knows where doing Merlin knows what with Merlin knows who and I found something appealing about his method of coping with the pain.

Ignorance is bliss. If I left for a while maybe, I'd feel a bit better. So, I did just that. I traveled for a while, politely declining anything with an ounce of booze. That doesn't mean I was entirely well behaved. There was that one night in Amsterdam with a blunt and a handsome stranger. If my head spun when he kissed me, I wouldn't have known if it was him or the drugs.

I left Amsterdam quickly after that. The whole point of getting away was to clear my head and forget about the past. "Out of sight, out of mind" was my philosophy for everything.

I decided, after city hopping in Italy, to visit Paris. I hadn't been for a long time and there was no better way to forget your worries than walking down a Parisian street or gazing at the lights of the Eiffel Tower. When I was younger I was in awe of the romantic atmosphere and the beauty of the city.

That was where I met him. I say met, because he certainly wasn't the person I used to know.

"What a surprise, Granger. I know that I'm amazing, but I didn't think I was worthy of you following me across Europe." And then that smirk, the one thing that hadn't changed about the smarmy git. "I mean bumping into each other in Amsterdam could have been coincidence, but this?" He raised an arm. "Is just too good to be true."

I couldn't help but stare. Eyes wide, arms crossed, mouth open. I must have looked like a fool. "You." Was all I found myself saying.

And he smirked. "Care to join me?"

We talked for hours after that. He had apparently been the one footing my bill at the cauldron. He looked downright bashful when he found out I didn't remember a thing from that time since I was always sloshed. He admitted that most of the time he was too. He even apologized for "perpetuating" my "destructive habit". Then he told me about Amsterdam. He was higher than a rocket when he saw me across the room. He said he recognized the shape of my love bites on his shoulder, and that's how he remembered it was me the next morning. "How do you know what my love bites look like?" I crossed my arms accusingly. His response was enough for me to get it.

"Drunk Granger is a lot more fun."

Over the next two months I bumped into him everywhere. Just seeing his face made me want to curl up in a ball or scream into my pillows. It was embarrassing. He remembered what I looked like naked and panting and I didn't have a clue that ever was. It was also infuriating, seeing that smirk. He was a gentleman I must admit. He bought me things, paid for my food, and carried my things (if need be). We ran into each other quite a lot.

"We're having some fun." He said one night, showing up randomly at my hotel room. When I said no he told me: "Any sane girl would jump at the chance to go out with a handsome bloke like me."

"Well then, I guess I'm insane." I tried to close the door on him, but he stopped me. Damn his muscles

"Get dressed. We're leaving in ten minutes. I'm not taking no for an answer." His smile was wicked, a cross between a smirk and a sneer.

He took me to a muggle bar in South Pigalle and immediately ordered "something strong". "There's this thing called "drinking responsibly"." He took a shot. "I plan to get drunk off my arse tonight, but it is possible." Getting shit-faced was appealing. I could work on drinking responsibly later. The mutterings of Ginny Weasley crossed my mind. I had been good for a while, so I deserved to get pissed. Or at least that was how I justified it.

Next thing I knew we were in his hotel room sporting nothing but matching hangovers. I cursed under my breath and he stirred. "Why am I not surprised we ended up here?" He smirked. He folded his hands behind his head and squeezed his eyes shut. "The sobering potion is in the bathroom. Give me a second." When he did get up he didn't even bother covering himself and I got a full view of his arse. Hearing the squeak, I made, he turned about-face and I got a nice view of...Malfoy jr.

After my hangover was cured I threw a fit. "You took advantage of me, you bastard. You knew this would happen if you got my buzzed enough, that's why you took me out. You were looking for a lay and thought "ah, yes, Granger, I've already shagged her before when she wasn't fully conscious. What's one more time?". You prick-"

"It wasn't planned, Granger, just a positive side effect."

"A positive side effect!" I scoffed.

"Would you rather it be a negative side effect?"

"You are so infuriating!"

"Listen, let's cut to the chase." He grabbed my arms making me pay attention to him. "When I kiss you, I feel like nothing else matters. I forget that my father is in Azkaban, that my mother is a zombie, that my friends are all either dead, imprisoned, or hate me, that I have nothing left except money and that doesn't fucking matter! You make everything alright. So, I'm selfish, you already knew that. I was hoping that maybe, If I got sloshed telling you would be easier and maybe I'd get to kiss you again. Maybe I wouldn't be a cowardly bastard and go for it."

"Then go for it bastard."

She was right. When a kiss is good, you feel like the world is spinning. You can't remember your name, where you are, and why you hadn't done it sooner. You feel like your problems are conquerable and as if your pain is nothing more than a memory.

*I don't own the characters, just the plot*