If You Don't Like Being Hurt Please Don't Stay
Chapter One: Things Are So Complicated
Draco's hand moved unsteadily as he picked out the powder and put it on a spoon. I need it now! He thought. He poured some water onto it and began to heat it up. Then carefully, so he would not to spill it, he set it on the table. He took his needle and as fast as he could, injected the heroin into his vein. He moaned a little in euphoria. Sometimes, it felt useless to Draco. There was never anyone that he wanted to shoot up with anymore. And he wasn't sure that he'd keep doing it, if he wasn't already addicted. He wanted to ask Harry Potter to get high with him. But what would Harry think of him then? He already hated him. And Draco hated himself for loving him.
It had happened in their 3rd year, but he had kept it a secret. His father would surely whip him for it. And his mother... God knows what she would do. And Draco couldn't tell Harry because Harry hated him.
Things are so complicated.
Draco sighed. He wished he had someone to talk to. To tell that he loved 'Perfect Potter' more than anything. Then Draco realized that he didn't have enough heroin for another hit. He cursed his father under his breath for giving him any in the first place. That had been two years ago. But he already tried pot. And was drinking. His father seemed to think it best to give him the "best drugs", if Draco was going to use them. And now one day, it's probably going to kill him.
Draco's father Lucius, was a weak man. And Draco knew this. With one wrong word or move, Lucius would flog the life out of him. Draco had scars and gashes all over his back, all his life, from where he had been beaten with a belt. Lucius was a drunk. And when he got drunk and high, he came to Draco. It was their little secret when Draco had been a child, and now it was just something that happened that he was used to. Yes, it was rape, but Draco, being raised around it, thought it was something all fathers did to their sons. Even so, Draco hated his father.
His mother, Narcissa (Black was her maiden name), was just as bad, when it came to alcohol. But when Draco was being beat and raped by his father, his mother locked herself up in her room. And drank. And cried. And passed out. There isn't much else to say about his mother. But Draco hated her, too.
When Draco was let down from heroin, a sensation he enjoyed just as much as the high, he looked for some cocaine. His father had a stash of coke in his room but that was risky. Even at three o'clock in the morning, when both of his parents are most likely passed out, he had no idea if there was some kind of charm on the cocaine. Draco didn't dare touch it but decided on marijuana instead. To tell the truth, no one really knew how Draco got drugs when he was Hogwarts. His father didn't send him any. "It's not worth getting arrested." Lucius had said. But Draco managed to get them anyway. Often confusing his father.
Then, when Draco had finished his joint, he reached for a razor blade. "I hate you!" He muttered under his breath, as he sliced open the skin on his wrist. "I hate you, Dad! I hate you, Mom! I hate you! I hate Potter! And I hate myself!" He repeated over and over. Each time cutting a little deeper. Until, he blacked out.
The next day, Draco was packing his things to go back to school. He was entering his 5th year. He made sure to bewitch all of his drugs to look like harmless things. his new stash of heroin turned into a bottle of ink and his needles, quills. And his cocaine was a bottle of ink, and his joints and cigarettes, quills as well. I'll get to see Harry, soon. Draco thought. But as he reached for the handle on the door, the doorknob turned. In stepped his father. Draco's eyes bulged. "Your bug-eyed, Draco." Lucius said, coolly. "Now sit down on the bed. And take your shirt off." Draco did as he was told and nervously looked at the whip in his father's hand. He had forgotten his annual beating. Before he left for he was beaten so badly by his father, that he could hardly walk. "This is for all of those misdemeanors you make at that damn school, boy!" his father yelled. And then, he walked out. Draco felt the blood running down his back. And the searing pain. But after all, he thought, who am I to complain? Didn't father say that all children are beat? Am I just weak because I feel the pain of it? And, ashamed of himself, Draco put his shirt back on, grabbed his things, and went outside where his parents where ready to take him to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
Chapter One: Things Are So Complicated
Draco's hand moved unsteadily as he picked out the powder and put it on a spoon. I need it now! He thought. He poured some water onto it and began to heat it up. Then carefully, so he would not to spill it, he set it on the table. He took his needle and as fast as he could, injected the heroin into his vein. He moaned a little in euphoria. Sometimes, it felt useless to Draco. There was never anyone that he wanted to shoot up with anymore. And he wasn't sure that he'd keep doing it, if he wasn't already addicted. He wanted to ask Harry Potter to get high with him. But what would Harry think of him then? He already hated him. And Draco hated himself for loving him.
It had happened in their 3rd year, but he had kept it a secret. His father would surely whip him for it. And his mother... God knows what she would do. And Draco couldn't tell Harry because Harry hated him.
Things are so complicated.
Draco sighed. He wished he had someone to talk to. To tell that he loved 'Perfect Potter' more than anything. Then Draco realized that he didn't have enough heroin for another hit. He cursed his father under his breath for giving him any in the first place. That had been two years ago. But he already tried pot. And was drinking. His father seemed to think it best to give him the "best drugs", if Draco was going to use them. And now one day, it's probably going to kill him.
Draco's father Lucius, was a weak man. And Draco knew this. With one wrong word or move, Lucius would flog the life out of him. Draco had scars and gashes all over his back, all his life, from where he had been beaten with a belt. Lucius was a drunk. And when he got drunk and high, he came to Draco. It was their little secret when Draco had been a child, and now it was just something that happened that he was used to. Yes, it was rape, but Draco, being raised around it, thought it was something all fathers did to their sons. Even so, Draco hated his father.
His mother, Narcissa (Black was her maiden name), was just as bad, when it came to alcohol. But when Draco was being beat and raped by his father, his mother locked herself up in her room. And drank. And cried. And passed out. There isn't much else to say about his mother. But Draco hated her, too.
When Draco was let down from heroin, a sensation he enjoyed just as much as the high, he looked for some cocaine. His father had a stash of coke in his room but that was risky. Even at three o'clock in the morning, when both of his parents are most likely passed out, he had no idea if there was some kind of charm on the cocaine. Draco didn't dare touch it but decided on marijuana instead. To tell the truth, no one really knew how Draco got drugs when he was Hogwarts. His father didn't send him any. "It's not worth getting arrested." Lucius had said. But Draco managed to get them anyway. Often confusing his father.
Then, when Draco had finished his joint, he reached for a razor blade. "I hate you!" He muttered under his breath, as he sliced open the skin on his wrist. "I hate you, Dad! I hate you, Mom! I hate you! I hate Potter! And I hate myself!" He repeated over and over. Each time cutting a little deeper. Until, he blacked out.
The next day, Draco was packing his things to go back to school. He was entering his 5th year. He made sure to bewitch all of his drugs to look like harmless things. his new stash of heroin turned into a bottle of ink and his needles, quills. And his cocaine was a bottle of ink, and his joints and cigarettes, quills as well. I'll get to see Harry, soon. Draco thought. But as he reached for the handle on the door, the doorknob turned. In stepped his father. Draco's eyes bulged. "Your bug-eyed, Draco." Lucius said, coolly. "Now sit down on the bed. And take your shirt off." Draco did as he was told and nervously looked at the whip in his father's hand. He had forgotten his annual beating. Before he left for he was beaten so badly by his father, that he could hardly walk. "This is for all of those misdemeanors you make at that damn school, boy!" his father yelled. And then, he walked out. Draco felt the blood running down his back. And the searing pain. But after all, he thought, who am I to complain? Didn't father say that all children are beat? Am I just weak because I feel the pain of it? And, ashamed of himself, Draco put his shirt back on, grabbed his things, and went outside where his parents where ready to take him to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.