AN: Enjoy!
Bliss. Pure bliss. Hermione was constantly searching for it. The feeling of being out of her own skin, out of her own mind; to be anyone but herself was her only goal. It was easier that way. Then she wouldn't have to deal with her own problems. She wouldn't have to handle the fact that she had killed and maimed in the sake of a Greater Good or to save her loved ones. She wouldn't have to miss all the people she had lost, to realize her heart was no longer whole anymore. If she floated away on a cloud of nothingness she wouldn't have to think about the fact that she was not coping well after the war, and neither were her two closest friends either. She wouldn't have to think about the fact that she didn't really have close friends anymore. Everyone she had killed to save either had died anyways or they were so lost in their own problems they were merely empty shells of themselves.
No. When Hermione was on the cusp of that blissfully ignorant feeling that drugs pushed into her, she was numb to it all.
But lately…lately Hermione almost enjoyed being in her own skin, being herself. For longer and longer she remained in semi or completely sober states. Being with Draco was almost a drug in itself because she felt so happy…so blissful. He made her laugh so hard she would cry, he made her feel butterflies in her stomach or a warm fuzzy feeling in the depths of her belly that came from being cared for and wanted by someone you wanted just as deeply and desperately as they wanted you. She loved feeling all of this. And when she wasn't on any drugs or potions she really felt it. It wasn't artificially caused by chemicals or magic. And when she was sober she felt that his caresses felt even better because they were so genuine and so real. They kept her grounded.
All of this was enough to make her give up her lifestyle of partying.
But then all the problems she was running from caught up with her.
She and Draco couldn't be with one another every second of the day. Though they hadn't many obligations these days, there still existed a few that required them to be separate and dealing with other people on their own. And it was during these times that Hermione felt as if she was suffocating and being slammed into a brick wall all at once. If she attended them sober, that is. Which she always tried to do for the sake of trying, but it would quickly become too much for her to handle. Take the ribbon cutting for Florean Fortescue's second ice cream parlour he was just opening in Hogsmeade to celebrate the success of his renewed business in Diagon Alley. All she had to do was stand around and smile and cut the ribbon and leave.
She had literally taken one step into the place and had gone into a panic attack, so with unsteady legs she had taken herself into the bath room. She grabbed at the sink desperately trying to hold herself up through the sobs that shook her body. Someone tried to enter the room and she pulled out her wand and stuttered a spell to lock them out. Tears streaming down her face in frustration and self-pity that she could not even do this one thing, cut a bloody ribbon, without self-medicating. With shaking hands she drew a small vial from her pocket and downed it in one gulp. She waited in the locked powder room until the potion took effect and her eyes glazed over before exiting the room.
She barely remembered standing on the stage and smiling and clapping on cue with everyone else. She thought she might have almost cut Florean's hand when she used her wand to sever the ribbon, but she didn't see anything about it in the paper the next day so she assumed the ceremony had gone without incident.
She loved being with Draco, but she either relied on him or drugs to keep her dark thoughts at bay, and she was quickly coming to resent the time she spent sober, even some of the time that was spent with him.
But she loved being with him all the same. She was just afraid that one day he would ask her what was wrong or he would try to talk to her or get her to acknowledge her feelings or memories. And she couldn't allow that to happen. The lighthearted teasing they shared was the deepest she could handle. The closest they had come to saying "I like you" was saying that the relationship they shared with one another was different than they had with anyone else. And that meant a lot, to be sure, it was a very impersonal and detached way of saying "I love you", but it was just that; detached, just the way Hermione wanted it.
She felt that he liked it the same way, though. Not that they ever talked about it, of course, but he never brought any feelings up in a way that made her feel uncomfortable either. But he was so happy around her sometimes she was afraid he was healing. Which she wanted for him, of course she wanted him to be healthy and happy and a functioning wizard, but then everything would change and he would either try to fix her, which she could not allow, she just wasn't ready, or he wouldn't want her because she was so bloody damaged he wouldn't want to deal with her anymore.
These fears only drove her to drink more and their sober moments together dwindled, but Draco never said a word to comment on the fluctuations of her soberness.
So Hermione went on pretending her life was the same and nothing had changed. Draco and she would go out to clubs and bars and parties. They would meet up with Harry and Ron and whatever girls those two had hanging off of them for the night. They would all get sloshed and stumble back to their flats. They had the type of fun you can only have when you're rich with access to high quality drugs and drinks. And Hermione repeated to herself every night before she passed out in Draco's arms that she was having fun, that she was happy, that she was blissful.
AN: I hope you all liked this. I realize there wasn't really any action in this and it was short, but hopefully the fact that I updated quickly will make up for it! Let me know what you think!