Draco Malfoy – Monday, May 8th, 2000

The time ticks onward to almost three thirty in the morning. Of course, I'm in my usual spot in the lounge area in the back of Ego. The emerald green, velvet sofa feels great under my skin as I run the back of my hand over the fabric absent-mindedly. Loud dance music shakes the building with a constant thump, thump. Blaise joins me on the sofa, bringing me yet another glass of firewhiskey. I've lost count of how many I've had, but it doesn't matter. I can hardly feel the burn anymore.

We watch all of the other fools embarrass themselves on the dance floor, as we do night after night, as we drink. My mind is far away in the dusty Quidditch supplies shop in Diagon Alley. I don't know anything about being in love. I've never considered such an absurd feeling before. But I definitely feel something for Potter – I just don't know what it is yet. These feelings are nothing new, of course. The only thing that's new is the way he regarded me the other day. The skipping record in my brain replays his words over and over – like listening to a radio that plays the same song over and over that you don't want to hear, but you'd rather hear it than the burning silence.

'Later Malfoy.'

Later. Was that meant to imply we would see each other again? There's no way that I could work this out somehow. Pretending for a moment that I'm not far too proud to admit what I'm feeling to anyone, who would I admit it to? Potter? Certainly not. I refuse to put myself in such a vulnerable position. That's just asking to get rejected again. Blaise? How cruel! Blaise has been in love with me since we were thirteen. He thinks that I am utterly clueless, so I pretend not to know. There's no one for me to talk to and nothing I can do to make it go away.

Much like with everything else swimming around in my head. It's all too much to handle, but I can't talk to anyone about any of it and I can't make it go away. One nightmare after another. One regret after another. One dead body after another. When does it end?

Before my thought process can take an even darker turn, it is interrupted by a woman walking up to me. Her dark brown hair flows down past her shoulders in tight curls and her large brown eyes look slightly bloodshot. My eyes scan over her body and I force myself not to show any of my reaction because I know that Blaise is watching me closely. Her tight, black top is strapless and pushes her breasts directly into view of anyone who will bother to look. Her very short white skirt is ruffled at the bottom, drawing further attention to her long legs.

"Draco?" she shouts at me over the music's thump, thump. "You probably don't remember me."

"You're Daphne Greengrass's little sister," my mouth seems to make the connection before my brain does and my eyes widen at the realization of who I'm looking at. She definitely looks different. "Astoria – that's your name, right?"

"Yes, so far, but I can always change it if you don't like it."

I laugh, but the sad part is there was no evidence to suggest she was joking. "Shouldn't you be at Hogwarts? You should be a seventh year by now."

"I decided not to go back to school. I found something else that was more important. Speaking of which, do you want to go somewhere with me."

Blaise gives me a sad nod of permission before I abandon him on the sofa and follow Astoria out of the club. She takes my hand and we Disapparate. After my head stops spinning and I can think straight, I take in my new surroundings. There isn't much to see except the darkened street, the moon, and a large apartment building. A hand pulls at my arm, dragging me into the building and up to the third floor.

Astoria's apartment is cluttered and has a scent that I cannot place. However, when she leads me into the bedroom, it looks as if no one has ever been inside the room before. There is no clutter on the floor and the bed seems to have never been slept in.

"I hope I didn't drag you away from a good time back there," she finally says, sitting down onto the end of the bed. "There just wasn't anything interesting happening. Although there was this really gorgeous man there."

"Yeah?" I mock interest. "So why didn't you bring him home?"

"I did." Her devilish smile causes a shiver to travel up my spine. She pats the bed next to her and I allow myself to join her.

Astoria takes me into her arms. Her lips meet mine without hesitation and it melts away whatever reservations I had once had. Warm hands lifted my shirt and I can hear my blood pumping loudly in my ears. Her mouth moves lower, across my jaw and down my neck. There is something strange in the back of my mind, something telling me that I should just get up and leave. My body does not agree. It refuses to stand up. In fact, it does the opposite. It lies down.

As she runs her hands slowly up my torso, she mutters, "Damn, you're perfect."

Something inside of me snaps at the word. Perfect. I find myself to be almost disgusted by the sound of it, because I know how far from its definition I am. Instinctively I grab her hands and remove them. I sit up and run a hand through my hair.

"What's wrong?" she asks, reaching for me.

Without speaking, I let my arm drop into her lap, my disgraced forearm exposed. Her eyes fall to the ugly scar and she sighs heavily.

"Does it hurt?"

"Physically? No."

"But emotionally?" She doesn't wait for me to respond, much to my relief, because I'm not sure I would have been willing to actually be honest with either of us. "I have something that can make it all better. Something that will make it all go away."

Astoria rolls over and reaches into the drawer of her nightstand. What she retrieves is not what I had been expecting. Leaning over the surface of the nightstand, she pours onto it an off-white powder. My stomach tightens uncomfortably as I watch her draw the powder into two fine lines.

"W-what are you doing?" I stammer awkwardly.

"You ever done speed before?" she inquires without looking at me.

"Of course not." The slight sound of horror in my voice betrays me.

Her smirk does nothing to easy my nerves, nor does the action of her handing me a straw. "It will make the pain go away, I promise."

Realistically, I know that it won't make anything go away. However, as I stare at the straw in her outstretched hand, I wonder if it might be worth knowing for sure. How bad could it be? If it gives me some release for even a moment, it could be worth it, right? My hand is shaking as it reaches out to take the straw from her. Crawling off the bed, I go to the deadly lines on the nightstand. Point of no return.

Urgh! It feels as though there is firewhiskey in my nose! My eyes tear up and my hand immediately reaches for my burning nose. I bite my tongue to hold back a scream as I'm overwhelmed by unfamiliar sensations. Only a vague image of Astoria is visible through my fingers as she takes the straw and helps herself to the second line left waiting. She barely reacts at all, letting me know that she's obviously done this many times before. Nothing feels normal.

What have I done? I've let the devil into my body, into my brain, and allowed it control. Why did I think this would help anything? What have I done? What have I done! Why did I even come here!? What am I supposed to do with myself now? Was I really so desperate for escape that I was willing to – wait. Pain: weakened. Regret: absent. Perhaps it had helped after all? I feel strong and powerful. The pain might not be fully gone, but it doesn't feel quite so heavy. Not even my body feels quite as heavy as it once did.

Among the other things that seem to be light as a feather at this moment are the hands exploring every inch of my skin. When exactly did I take any of my clothing off anyway? It doesn't much matter after a moment. Lips touch mine. My head is spinning, faster, faster. My heart is pound, harder, harder. My pulse is matching the rhythm of the club music, thump, thump. It feels as though the room is on fire around me, my entire body extremely warm.

"I told you that you would feel better," Astoria whispers against the shell of my ear, causing a violent shudder to overcome my body. "Allow me to make you feel better still."

In that moment my world becomes nothing more than a desperate haze – touching and tasting – panting and trembling – my mind and my eyes unfocused – until we are tangled in a burning pile of sweaty limbs almost an hour later. The initial rush has now worn off. As I attempt to catch my breath, Astoria nuzzles her face into my neck.

"Draco?" she whispers.

"Hmm?" I moan in response through my fading haze.

"I know this is going to sound completely mad, but I think you should move in here with me."

"You're not serious, are you? We haven't seen each other in years. We barely know each other anymore."

"So, move in and we can get to know each other. I know that it's insane and very fast, but why the hell not? It will be fun – that's all that matters."

My protests are stifled by another intense kiss, weakening me to my very bones. Logic is non-existent. Refusal is not an option. I feel my head slowly nodding in agreement. The next thing I know, I'm standing outside the front gate of the family manor. I can still feel the high buzzing around in my head. All of the lights in the manor are off – leaving nothing but darkened, lifeless rooms in their wake. Proof that my parents are still asleep.

My head is spinning slightly as I make my way up the walkway, each tiny pebble crunching underneath my feet. Even as messed up as I am now, I can still understand that I can't let my parents see me like this or I'll never make it back out alive. Slipping silently back into the manor, tiptoeing upstairs, and creeping into the bathroom – I turn on a hot shower, strip off my clothes, and climb inside. The steaming water pours down over my skin, cleansing my skin but not the inside of my body or my mind.

Contemplating the fact that there is no way water or soap could ever cleanse my mind or what horrible I've just done to my body, my body shudders. Placing both hands on the wall of the shower, I lean forward against it and let my head fall forward. Face staring down at the floor and water flowing down into my eyes and mouth, I regretfully allow myself to cry. I cry because I'm high. Cry because I know I can't take back what I've just done. Cry because I have no idea where to go or what to do next. Cry because of all the events that led to this. Cry because, as much as I would never want to admit it, it feels good to cry. Cry because I may never feel completely human ever again.

Turning off the water and climbing out of the shower, I think about Astoria. Despite all the damage, she still wants me. This gives me enough strength to stagger down the hall toward my bedroom with a towel wrapped around my waist. I bend down and pull my trunk out from underneath my bed, dragging it until it sits open in the middle of my floor. The sun starts to rise outside my window, spurring me to move faster. Get out of the house before my parents wake up. I cast an extension charm on my trunk and throw everything I own, everything I can get my hands on, inside of it.

"This is it," I whisper to myself, latching the trunk closed. I drag my trunk into the hall and lean it against the wall to wait for me. Then I move toward my parents' bedroom, creaking open the door and peering inside. They are both still fast asleep. I slip inside, being extra careful not to make a sound to wake them up, and float across the room. I kiss my mother on the forehead and walk around the bed to repeat the action with my father. And then it's time to slip out quietly, grab my trunk, and get out the door.

The manor looks so much different as I stand outside the front gate with my trunk. My stomach is doing terrible somersaults and cartwheels. It's time to leave before I talk myself out of leaving. One last glance at the ivy covered walls, the exotically decorated gardens, and the family crest on the front gate. Disapparating. No turning back. I'm gone.

Astoria's building is in front of me and my heart breaks. The urge to collapse to the cold ground is overwhelming, until Astoria comes out the door.

"Draco!" she cheers, running toward me and jumping into my arms. "I was starting to worry that you had changed your mind! What took you so long?"

"S-sorry," I murmur. "I showered and then it took a little longer to pack than I expected."

"You showered? Why didn't you wait until you got back? We could have showered together."

My heart skips a beat. "Next time."

"I'm going to hold you to that. Come on inside!"

Astoria helps me drag my trunk up to her flat and we let it sit just inside the door. Everything I own, everything that I am, packed away in an endless trunk, left to be ignored as a complete stranger takes control of my being. Back to the bedroom and for a moment I wonder if packing all of my clothes was even necessary.

An hour or so later, we are lying in bed – naked and sweating – holding each other close. I know that I should be exhausted, but I'm wide awake. There's no chance of sleep. Soft fingertips and perfectly manicured fingernails are rubbing gently over every inch of my skin that they can reach.

"What are you thinking about?" Astoria asks quietly after the long moments of my silence stretch on.

"Everything," I reply. "Us. My past. My future. My parents. Oh, gods, my parents."

"What about them?"

"Well, see, I didn't exactly have the nerve to look them in the eye and tell them I was leaving, so I just left."

"Wait, you what?"

"I packed my things while they were still asleep and then just, um, left."

"You didn't tell them you were leaving? You didn't say goodbye? They have no idea where you are or what happened to you?"

"Er, no, I guess not. That's bad isn't it?"

She releases a heavy sigh. "I'm sure it will be fine. I mean, obviously, they should know when they see all your stuff gone that you weren't kidnapped or anything."

"True. But they'll still be worried. At least my mother will be."

"What about your father? Won't he care?"

"My father's never cared." I grumble bitterly. At my own words, any guilt I may have felt about abandoning them without a single word vanishes. Of course I'm worried about how Mum will take it and I don't want to hurt her. But there's a part of me that feels like Father had it coming – he deserves this. I hope he's out of his mind worrying about me for once. For once, let it be my actions that effect his life. Maybe after a while I'll just send them an owl to let them know that I'm okay. But I know one thing for certain – I can't let them see me. Not like this. I'm too far gone now.

Is there anyone who can save me from this?