A/N: Endless Alpha and Beta squees to MHCalamas and Ravenslight, I adore you and every lovely word you write and every comma you delete. I would be lost without you.
Take a look at the end notes, if you don't mind! Happy reading!
It's gonna hurt for a bit of time
So bottoms up, let's forget tonight
You'll find another and you'll be just fine
Let her go
It'll be alright
-Be Alright, Dean Lewis
"I have a date," she rushes, her cheeks flushing the same shade as her lipsticked lips. She's fidgeting – her heeled feet shifting weight back and forth while she pulls at her fingers.
The blood drains from my face, and as I open my mouth to speak, my throat goes dry, the words I want to say evaporating before they pass my lips.
"He's—well, he's due here any minute," she explains in a low voice. "I'm sorry; I know we should talk about what happened, but it's just not a good time," she repeats for the countless time. My eyes pinch closed in bewilderment as my lips form various shapes trying to make words appear.
"Is this because of me? Because you're angry at me?" I ask.
"What? Merlin, no." She scoffs and then winces. "Maybe a little, but not because I'm angry – because I'm not angry, Draco. I'm just… I can't keep waiting for you to get your shit together. I can't keep waiting for the next time you fall apart. You're right: you're not mine to fix. You're not my boyfriend, and I need to move on with my life."
"Granger." I take a quick step towards her, my chest seizing in hope or despair—I'm not sure which. "Move on with me. My shit's together, okay? I'm going to take therapy seriously. Really, I am. I didn't use that night. I know I was bloody close, but I didn't, okay? You left, and I destroyed them. I'm still clean. I'm still... okay." I'm pleading with her in a way I never imagined I was capable of, and her eyes dart away from mine; I can see her warring with herself. I close the distance between us and bring my face a hairsbreadth from her, our foreheads nearly touching, and I reach for her hand.
She pulls away, and when her eyes find me again, they are brimming with unshed tears.
"It's just not meant to be, Draco. I mean, we weren't – we were nothing. We can still be friends, but this," she gestures to the air between the two of us, "it's toxic."
All I hear is "nothing" and "toxic," and I concede. After all, she's not wrong. I am those things. In the grand scheme of her life, I will be nothing. A footnote. A passing paragraph on a toxic almost-bad-decision that never happened.
I suck my cheek between my teeth, swallowing the pain climbing from my belly.
Nothing. Toxic.
I let my eyes wash over face, memorising the curves of her cheek and the freckles sprinkled along her cheek bones. I don't want to forget what it's like to see her this close, where friends and lovers are invited. She'll never let me this close again.
"Okay," my chest deflates. Her eyes flicker ever so briefly to my lips, and the space between us has a tangible presence. I rock forward on my toes, just barely; my fingers are possessed, tucking a wayward curl behind her ear.
For a moment, it's before. Before I fucked everything up, when she still looked at me like I mattered. Her cheek leans into my palm for a fraction of a second. Her eyes peer up at me through her too-dark lashes, and I think maybe… maybe I could fix this.
Knock, knock, knock.
The trance breaks, and I'm cursing as she steps back quickly, the moment lost.
"I'm sorry, Draco," she says with a sad shake of her head. "My Floo is open; you can use it when I'm gone."
She grabs her beaded clutch from the side table and opens the door with a bright smile as they greet each other. Granger smiles shyly, tucking a curl behind her ear, and I can't fucking stand it. My teeth grind against each other.
There's a twist deep in my gut, and I realise I won't be using any fucking Floo. Whoever is there can know he's coming after me.
I step behind her without permission and watch as her shoulders tense, my eyes falling on a tall blond git that I recognize from Hogwarts. He didn't hang out with the other Gryffindors, so I think he must have been older, but his face is pissing me off, and I'd like very much to clip him once in the jaw… maybe twice.
"Hermione?" His brows fall low over his eyes.
A quiet throat clearing and a barely there grimace prefaces her words."Cormac, this is Draco Malfoy; he was in my year at Hogwarts. He stopped by unannounced," she clarifies with a pointed glare over her shoulder, but I don't take my hooded eyes from this fucker, Cormac.
"Right, uh, nice to officially meet you, mate." Cormac sticks his stupid palm out to me, and I roll my eyes and push past them both, checking my shoulder into the blond prick with a scowl. It's horribly immature, and I'm probably better than that… but I don't give a shit.
I march down the hall, determined not to look back even as I hear her apologize for my abhorrent behavior, even after he tells her how beautiful she looks. My hands close dangerously into fists, and a tremor rocks through me.
On the street, I suck in greedy breaths of the chilly evening air until I'm left panting.
A fucking date.
I should go back to Molly's. She'll know what to do; she'll tell me the right thing, and then I can fix this.
I envision the spot in my mind that I want to be more than anywhere and turn on my heel, gone in a crack.
The Leaky is bustling with young twenty-something wizards this Saturday night, and I push my way up to the bar, shoving past the throngs of idiotic twits smiling and laughing with their mates.
"Firewhisky." I nod to the barkeep. "Double." A moment later, she's sliding it over to me, and I respond with, "another," as it burns its way down my throat.
Granger's not done anything wrong. I know that. I know that.
I can't quell the anxiety rubbing frantically against my skin.
They weren't nothing; she was lying to herself if she could say they were nothing. If Granger wasn't stacking books, they were together. They shared meals and book recommendations, for fucks sake; they'd just kissed.
And now, this new curly-headed fuck is taking my— my— bloody hell, there's no words for what she is… but she's my something.
Cormac.
What a twatty fucking name.
It dawns on me that he's a McLaggen, a pure-blood on paper, but he doesn't run in the circles where that might matter. No, a year ago his name was probably used along with the tag blood-traitor.
I believe he's wealthy; he's in no way Malfoy-wealthy, but he's not a pauper – pretty sure I remember him playing a little Quidditch, though I'm not sure he made the team. Bloke has blond hair, probably earned decent enough marks, and obviously sports a hard on for swotty little bushy-haired witches.
I pale when I realise he's me in another life. He's me if my parents had wanted anything for their son other than a life of servitude and torture at the hands of a half-dead monster.
I lift the cheap glass to my lips, letting it hover there, my lids fluttering closed as a pain settles deep in my belly. I can't stop the images playing behind my clenched eyelids: dinner at some new Muggle spot Granger undoubtedly chose, unless maybe she lets Cormac choose for her. Maybe she'll let Cormac pick up the tab without a bloody argument over who's turn it is, even though I could buy her dinner for the rest of her life, and it still wouldn't make a blip on my vault ledgers.
A familiar yet new dagger of jealousy joins the first when I think about them holding hands outside the restaurant, of him tucking her curls behind her ear and kissing her softly… publically. Things I'll never get a chance to do.
I down the rest of my double and lift a finger, beckoning for a third.
An hour passes, maybe two. My head is swimming delightfully, and I know my inebriation has hit a new level when I'm bopping my head along to the shit band that's playing in the corner.
"Mate." A familiar drawl and a hand claps my shoulder. "You look like you're drinking with a purpose."
Blaise is sporting a wicked grin, and I squint one of my eyes to make him right himself. A laugh bubbles past my lips, and I nod over my shoulder at him.
"Yea, the purpose is to forget that Granger is probably getting fucked by some piece of shit Gryffindor right now."
He takes an easy seat next to me and smirks, shaking his head. "I knew you had a thing for her. Poor fool, you shoulda known better than that."
I scoff and let the whiskey burn my throat.
"You love her?"
The question sobers me, and my breath gets caught in my chest.
"Fuck no," I answer, but its weak, and his grin widens, perfect white teeth against his ebony skin.
"Let's get outta here." He shakes his head and stands, tugging me from my stool.
"I gotta get home," I murmur when we make our way out onto the cobblestone, my feet tripping over themselves.
"Not yet, mate." He claps a hand on my shoulder, and with a crack, we're gone.
I very nearly wretch on his expensive shoes in the alley Ae's apparated us to.
"The fuck!" I shove him off me.
"Stop taking the piss, Malfoy. I'm only here to help."
Everything swirls with the affects of my five firewhiskeys, and as we are ushered past a velvet rope into a crowded club, I can hear the deafening noise of house music.
"Where the fuck are we?" I shout.
"The Steam. It's a Muggle club, but the girls are easy, and the drinks are strong," he laughs, leading me towards a booth near the back with another rope around it. He shakes hands with a large Muggle with a thick neck and giant arms, and he lets us pass. We take a seat at the reserved table.
"How'd you find this place?" I ask, my eyes raking over the throngs of sweating Muggles gyrating on each other in the dark.
"Mum's flat is around the corner," he replies as a waiter in her underwear and netted tights drops off a bottle of clear alcohol, various juices, and some glasses. He pours us each a glass, skipping over the juice entirely, and when he hands it to me, he throws me a sly wink. "Bottom's up, mate. Let's forget tonight."
With pursed lips, I nod and take a long drink.
An hour passes, and I'm actually starting to feel better. Blaise and I are reminiscing about the days before everything went to fucking hell. He reminds me of the time he had to kiss Bulstrode on a dare and the time Snape walked in on Pansy and I going at it in a broom closet. The more I laugh and Granger slips farther from my mind.
"Draco?" A high pitched squeal comes from beyond the ropes. It's the girl with the silky hair, and she's smiling at me, a red-haired friend trailing behind her.
"Friends of yours?" Blaise smiles at the girls.
"Hardly," I mumble.
"Well, any friends of Draco's are friends of mine!" He claps and motions to the guard to allow them to enter.
The two girls fall into our booth, giggling and talking about some nonsense while Blaise fills their glasses with more of the clear liquor and red juice.
I'm hardly able to follow their ramblings, all my focus single-mindedly trained on staying awake.
"You boys having fun tonight?" Tracy's in my ear, her breath fanning over my face, and I almost flinch from the sudden proximity of her.
"No," I clip.
"That's a shame, love. Where's the girl?"
The girl is bold; I'll give her that. Her small hands slips over my knee, and my gaze locks onto it as she squeezes lightly, her eyes dancing over my face. She's pretty, full lips and hair you could probably run your fingers through without getting them tangled in a fight for their life. Her skin is more of a creamy ivory, and she doesn't have freckles… she's not Granger.
"She's not my girl."
Her lips twitch up in a smile. "Well, her loss is my gain."
I feel almost violently ill at the way she looks at me. There was a time I would have given my left nut to have a pretty girl throwing herself at me like this, but it feels wrong for reasons I don't understand, and I want to get home.
"I think I need some air." She slides out of the booth so that I can pass, and I wave a goodbye to Blaise, who's already whispering sweet nothings in the ginger girl's ear.
I stumble and push my way through the crowds. Each body that touches me makes me flinch, and I want to start shoving them off. A deep thrumming bass fills the dark club and it's steady staccato matches my heartbeat. I almost fall to my feet as the night air rushes against me, and I move away from the crowds at the door, clawing at my chest and pulling my collar away from my neck.
There's a patch of brick just outside the door, and I rest my back against it, letting my hands rest on my knees as I hunch over.
"You okay, love?"
Fucking hell.
"Fine," I snap.
"You're looking a bit peckish; let me see you." She steps into me, her thighs between mine and I straighten my spine, letting my head lull back.
She's too fucking close. I can feel her press against me, and her hands are on the side of my face, brushing my hair back that hasn't been cut since Granger did it in the attic. I'm avoiding looking at her, keeping my eyes on the people passing by.
I want to get her off me, but I'm way too fucking drunk, and the touch almost feels nice. As long as I don't look at her. As long as I don't remember it's her.
My gaze locks on a couple approaching. The curly-haired girl is sucking on a spoon while the bloke next to her looks down at her with a keen eye. She removes the spoon and laughs, and my body tenses.
Fuck.
They're just a few paces away, and I've got Traci between my thighs, hands on my face. I don't think as my hands find her slender waist and pull her into me, encouraging her back to arch and her chest to press against me.
Her hands twist into my hair, and I crash my drunken mouth into hers, letting her dart her tongue into my mouth, and I feel her everywhere.
Her touch makes me ill.
She kisses like a drunk, but I suppose I'm not much more graceful, and I let my hands wander down to her velvet covered arse and palm her flesh as she makes a breathy little noise against my lips.
She breaks the kiss, panting, her lipstick smudged.
I turn and see her there, spoon stuck in her mouth and eyes wide, staring at the two of us. Cormac is gaping with his mouth open like a fucking fish, and I wish I could clip him in the jaw just once, but I pull Tracy into me again, my eyes tightening on Granger.
"Oh!" Tracy's voice is like a tinkling bell, and it grates my nerves. "It's um, nice to see you again." She giggles at Hermione and then buries her head in my neck, resting it there drunkenly.
Granger pulls the spoon from her mouth and purses her lips, swallowing her ire.
"Nice, Malfoy." She scoffs with a sad shake of her head. "Nice."
She stomps off, and I want to shove this little twit off me and run after her, beg her to forget it all. I want to tell her I'm bloody crazy over her and want nothing more than to make it alright again.
Cormac rushes after her and when he pulls her under his arm and kisses the top of her curls, I feel bile and liquor bubble in my throat.
Blaise finds me hunched over a pile of vomit and escorts me back to his flat round the corner, thankfully abandoning the girls, who look put out at having wasted the end of their nights on us.
"You'll be alright, mate. You'll find someone else. You're Draco Malfoy!" he cheers me on as I collapse onto his couch, hugging my middle while I try desperately to ignore him. "Get some sleep. We'll have you better in no time – party at Parkinson's tomorrow. That'll cheer you up, mate."
"Fshhmph." My attempt at "piss off" fails, and with a chuckle, he disappears.
My vision fades deliciously to black, and before sleep finds me, I realize that I've just fucking ruined everything.
A/N: I've spoken to a lot of friends who work in or have personal experience with addiction and as I'm sure we can guess, sobreity is a very slippery slope. Fear not! The recovery and healing are coming but there will be hurdles to jump over.
This IS a Dramione. This WILL be a HEA. But I WILL make him work for it.
Please let me know all your thoughts! I'll scoop them up greedily and hoarde them away with all my other precious things!