Author's note: This is a story that I started half a decade ago and recently picked up to finish. I know that it's practically more song than fic, but I think it fits the tone. The song is The Slow Drug by PJ Harvey. Enjoy!

The Slow Drug

Blue now is the color
Love the drug I'm needing
Got to keep this feeling

It came out of everywhere and nowhere. It sprang from untouched hands, moments of eye contact, tears in a grubby basin, and false threats. It didn't come from love. It came from need.

I saw him on a street corner in London. It was during the summer after my last year at Hogwarts. My hand immediately went for my wand, but I noticed that he was alone.

~
With the headlights burning
We're looking up for something
Answers on the ceiling
~

The instinct to protect myself was overcome by the instinct to destroy myself. It's the way people use most drugs. Needles and flames cut us deeper than the blood and smoke show, but we cling to them desperately.

When he approached me, I didn't speak. Neither did he. I'd read about the things men do together in the Muggle world, silent cues leading to dingy restrooms. I knew a local hotel and cocked my head. He followed, ten paces behind.

~
Watching out the windows
Watch the way the wind blows
Soon it will be morning
~

We were alone in a dingy room. The hotel rented by the hour. There were still no words exchanged between us.

We began.

~
Still the question lingers
I twist it round my fingers
Could you be my calling?
~

We continued to meet. I won't deny that there were times I wanted more. I was almost positive that there were times he wanted more. He'd hold my hand a little tighter for just a moment when I'd pull away. He'd open his mouth to ask me something but then close it.

I didn't give him any cues. I didn't give him anything other than my body. At night when I closed my eyes, I could pretend that this was redemption.

~
See this winged boy falling
Falling out of something
Hits the drug I'm needing
~

But then sometimes I had to wonder what he thought when he looked at me. Was I just one in a stalky field of conquests? Was I the dark secret he tried daily to forget? Or was I his black-winged angel in the night?

Was I his love?

~
Arrows that he's turning
Need to keep this feeling
Slow drug in the morning
~

They made me come into the Ministry. It was something about truth and reconciliation. I was guided to a courtroom. I was told that I had immunity. Any admissions I made were for research purposes only, to help the families of the victims.

When I sat down at the oak table, he was directly in front of me.

~
With the headlights burning
Looking up for something
Something that we're needing
~

I lied. When they asked me if I tortured innocent wizards, I said yes. When they asked me if I killed civilian women and children, I said yes. When they asked me if I murdered Muggles, I said yes. I said yes to every question in a way so constant that I couldn't believe they were never suspicious.

I lied to see if the look on his face would break. I lied to see if he could still see me after all of this. But more than anything, I lied to give him an out.

I was a war criminal, and nothing more. He objectified me in the courtroom just as he did in the bedroom. That day was the last time I saw him. I knew he deserved better. But I couldn't help but also think, I wish he deserved me.

~
Still the question lingers
I twist it round my fingers
Could you be my calling?