A/N: Endless gratitude and adoration to myy wonderful Alpha, MHCalamas and Beta, Ravenslight.
All remaining mistakes are surely mine.
When did I become so numb?
When did I lose myself?
All the words that leave my tongue
Feel like they came from someone else
I'm paralyzed
Where are my feelings?
I no longer feel things
I know I should
I'm paralyzed
Where is the real me?
I'm lost and it kills me inside
I'm paralyzed
Paralyzed by NF
Morning slams into me and my eyes squint from the early light streaming in.
"Fuck," I croak, my throat dry and cracking.
A feminine humming sounds to my left, and I jump as Pansy's messy bob and parted lips come into focus.
The throbbing in my head grows exponentially at the sight of my ex-girlfriend beside me. What the fuck was I thinking.
"Pansy," I hiss, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching for my pants. "What the fuck?" My voice is weak from hangover.
"Shut up, Draco." Pansy grabs the pillow I was just on and covers her face.
"What the fuck did we do last night?"
"If you can't figure that out, you're dumber than I thought," she groans, her voice muffled by the linens.
"I'm meant to work this morning." I want to vomit on her floor, but something tells me it won't be the first time I've puked in this room. "I feel like shit."
"Fuck, you're annoying!" Pansy sits up and reaches into her nightstand, the sound of fragile glass rolling against each other tinkling in the room. She tosses something on the bed next to me and covers her head again, her feet kicking at my bum to leave her bed.
I eye the vial, the same brilliant shade of violet from the night before and everything else fades away. I lift it gingerly and roll it once, twice, three times – waking the vapors.
I wish there was more of a struggle in coming to the decision, maybe an inner turmoil before I uncork it, but there isn't. The choice is barely made before I lift the vial to my nostril, snort it harshly, and feel the immediate cool rush of relief wash over my mind.
A dry laugh tickles my throat, and my head lulls back. The pain ceases, and I feel a tingling settle into my tired my muscles.
I look back in wonder at the now nearly glowing vial, my high escalating every sense. Vega.
I bring it to my lips and kiss the cool glass, pocketing the rest, and with a renewed kick in my step, I leave for Weasleys Wizards Wheezes.
In the middle of the the shop, my eyes rake over the brilliant kaleidoscope of colours blooming in my vision. Bubbles of iridescent colour pop against a too-loud orange backdrop, a fury of people around me, and I swear I can feel their breath against my skin.
The air feels tangible, tickling against the hairs on my neck, and I'm craving touch. Any touch. I turn my palms up and rub them along the length of my forearms, the sensations spreading deep into my bones. I nearly moan from how bloody good it feels.
I reach my fingers out and chuckle dryly as I touch the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder; it's cold and hard and feels like obsidian in my palm. Holding it tight, I inspect the ebony facets of its edges and, with a curious quirk of my brow, throw it at my feet.
A cloud of thick smoke erupts from the stone and a horrified scream rips from my throat as I drop to my knees, the black fog enveloping me and the few surrounding patrons.
Panic courses through me; my vision is compromised, and I can feel my heart in my throat. I let my hands run along the dingy tile floor. The smooth surface grounds me, and as the fog evaporates, I pant greedily in relief.
I'm resting on my haunches when my breath finally slows and steadies. My eyes catch on a small habitat full of the most incredible creatures, their small round bodies covered in fur of every vibrant color imaginable. My jaw drops, my eyes widening in wonder.
How have I never seen these before? Or have I?
Maybe I have—I don't bloody know. But I know they're fucking beautiful, and I pick one up gingerly, letting it fluff in my palm before it nestles against my skin. I sink to the floor again, this time cradling the pygmy to my chest, and rub my stubbled cheek along its long silken hairs, and I can't help the giggle when it tickles me back.
"Maaaaalfoy." A familiar drawl interrupts my moment with my new tiny friend, and my eyes make a lazy crawl up the intruder's abnormally tall body.
"Bloody hell, were you always so tall?" I scoff and snuggle against my fluff again.
"Since about fifteen. Stand the fuck up." His voice has an evil edge to it, and I gape up at him, affronted he would dare to speak to me in such a way.
"Have you seen these? Gods, they're so adorable." The little pygmy's eyes go wide as I hold her up to examine her properly, and I swear her fur doubles in size – just like Granger's might under scrutiny. I break out into a wild laugh, a nasty cramp tugging at my side as I roll onto the floor.
"Malfoy. I'm not going to ask again." When I look up at him again, I can't believe how fucking wiry he is; His limbs are too long, and the contrast of colours on his body are bloody frightening. He's a nauseating swirl of red and blue and fucking pasty white. His clothes are purple and orange, and it's offensive to my gaze. I squint, trying to make sense of him.
He growls an obscenity and tears the fluffy fluff from my hands, and I cry out, reaching for her when he yanks me up firmly by my armpit, and in a snap of his clumsy magic, I'm on my sofa upstairs.
I let out an impressed puff of air, my mouth hanging open and give him a clap.
"Bloody brilliant mate." I smile up at him.
"You're fucking high, you twat." He sneers down at me. I can't stand the negative energy he's emitting, and in a sudden, visceral movement, I shrink away from him.
He's not safe.
"I'm not high," I lie with a smug turn of my mouth.
"Yes, you fucking are. And you were in my shop, high as a fucking broomstick physically assaulting my Pygmy Puffs."
"I assure you, it was consensual." I try to sound serious, but even the vibration of my vocal chords feels like bliss and I giggle into my hand. "Did you want a hit? It's not the same, but gods, it's so much better." I can feel the bubbling sensation of unbridled happiness coursing through my veins and I can't think of anything but how fucking good I feel. It's incredible to feel this way again, and I want to share it with everyone. This wasn't meant to be hoarded; it was meant to be experienced.
It can't be wrong. Nothing that feels this good could ever be considered wrong.
"I don't feel empty, mate," I continue with a grin. "I'm full. I'm whole again. I can feel everything, but with this I finally want to feel it. You gotta try it, mate." I pull the vial from my pocket, letting it swirl in its glass enclosure between us. He has to see that it makes me happy, that this was what it's always meant to be like, but his features are tight and pinched together.
"You've fucked up, Malfoy. Take the day and sleep it off."
I barely hear him, barely register he's leaving until the door slams shut, and I nearly jump out of my skin.
I think I need more.
I pull the stopper off and bring it to my nose, letting the smell of my mother's rose garden and fresh cinnamon scones overcome me before I fall, fully and incredibly, into oblivion.
I wake on the couch, head throbbing and fuzzy. Thankfully the sun isn't streaming in; instead, darkness presses in on the windows of my flat. I grind the heels of my palms into my eyes then move my fingers to my temples, jabbing them into the hollows there to try and counteract the incredible pressure that's built up.
"Merlin's fucking tits," I hiss to no one, reaching in my pocket for the vial. The swirl is less obvious, less glittery, and I know its vapours are running low.
I take a harsh snort and feel a twinge of relief, but it's not enough. It's not even fucking close. I jump to my feet, grabbing my robe off the couch as I rush through my door, muttering the lock behind me.
A rush of adrenaline mixes dangerously with the last of the vial, and I can't think of anything else but more. The shop doesn't distract me like it did earlier, and I stomp past the chirping little pygmies and the glowing vials of cheap love potion with determination in each step.
"Malfoy!"
I ignore him. He just wants to stop me, and I can't stand the thought of anyone trying to get me to stop when I've just fucking started. That bloody bell over the door chimes, announcing my exit as I make my way onto Diagon and whip my cloak over my shoulders.
"Malfoy!" Another angry hiss, but this time it's accompanied by his long cold fingers around my elbow. "Where the fuck are you going?"
"Piss off, Weasley." I yank my arm back into my possession and shove him away with two hands on his sternum. "You're not my fucking keeper."
"Yea? Well you bloody well need one. You're gonna fuck everything up if you go to Knockturn now, do you hear me? I won't have you in this shop making a fucking fool of yourself day in and day out. You don't need that shit. Can't you see that you have all this?" He gestures wildly around himself, at all that's his, all of his accomplishments that he seems to let me have a part of.
My brain feels like it's ringing the last of its juice from its flesh like an orange. It's collapsing in on itself, dry and useless. I claw at my face, feeling the pull of drugs and the inevitable pit I know I'm jumping into willingly. "It's not like before," I lie, mostly to myself, "It's just for a little bit. Just until I can get through Granger out with that–"
"That's not how it fucking works and you know it. It's McLaggen today, but it's someone else tomorrow, and it's not gonna be you until you get yourself out of this fucking mess."
I scoff with a nasty turn of my lips, my feet pacing in front of the shop until I'm sure the stones are flat. "And who says I want it to me?"
His ire seems to weaken. "I know you love her. It's bloody obvious, alright? But this isn't the way – she won't forgive you for this." George's hands are jammed deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched, and he's giving me that fucking look again, the look that says he might fucking care about me, and it makes my stomach roll.
A long moment of heavy and important silence sits between us, and I can imagine how I must look: tousled from passing out on the couch, eyes red from withdrawal, and skin already turning grey like it was before.
"I'm not capable of love."
As he opens his mouth to stop me, I turn on my heel, disappearing into a swirl of my own that lands me at the corner of Knockturn Alley.
With a paranoid glance over my shoulder, my expensive dragonhide shoes clack against the cobblestone and take me deeper into the darkness.
There's an apothecary with a sketchy shopkeeper just around the corner, and if he doesn't have it, he should know where I can get it. I crane my neck from the nasty sound of water dripping onto the street, and above the shops I swear I can hear a baby crying, the sound scratching nastily against my skin. I want to tear it all from my body, rip my flesh from my bones until I'm as raw as I fucking feel right now.
The night is oppressive – suffocating – and I can't imagine a night that doesn't feel like it's swallowing me whole.
Finally the dusty little crimson awning comes into a view, and I let go of a breath I didn't know I was holding hostage. The store is just as I remember it from when Blaise had dragged me fifth year, desperate for a potion he'd heard of that made girls a little more willing to… well willing to do or be anything you wanted. He'd about jumped out of his skin when he left the shop with it, excitedly telling me that it was his year; he was finally going to shag Daphne Greengrass. Even then, I knew it was horrible taste to drug a girl to get her in the sack, but I had just ribbed him about needing potions when I'd already shagged Pansy the year before.
Now, it makes my stomach churn.
"Hello?" A decrepit, possibly decaying, shopkeeper croaks as he emerges from behind a dark curtain covered in a thick layer of dust.
"Hello, yea. I need some… assistance." I gulp and pull at the collar of my shirt that feels like it's strangling me even though it has two buttons undone.
His eyes examine me too closely, and I can feel every inch of his glare on my skin, a violent shiver running down my spine. Sweat beads at my hairline like I've come down with a fever, and I frantically wipe it away with the back of my hand.
"What're you here for?" His knotted and age-spotted hands rest on the class counter, and I can't help the turn of my lip in disgust.
"Vega," I choke out. He'll know.
"Tsk, can't help you boy." He turns back towards his hole in the wall, and my hands reach out in an effort to stop him, slapping loudly on the glass that separates us.
"Please! I'm…" I swallow a little bit of useless pride. "I'm desperate." The words are a ghost of a breath, barely there, but he turns just over his shoulder.
"Vega's backordered, an issue with a supplier." He shrugs, like it's nothing, like he hasn't just gutted me and left me dying in the fucking street.
"I'll take anything," I confess, and even I hate the weak tremble in my voice as my heart clambers up my throat.
His head bobs side to side, eyes narrowing a fraction of an inch. "I've got some spare vials of Nebula. Not the same high, but it should get you through."
"I'll take it," I rush, and I don't even realize what I've agreed to until they're on the counter between us, the icy blue of my old, but not forgotten, friend swirling in its case.
I toss the galleons he requests on the counter, the sound an annoying reminder of my failure. I pocket the vials, but I'm barely out the door before I'm ducking into the nearest dark corner and bringing the first to my nose.
Not too much, I warn myself. I still have to get my ass home before I completely sink into my void. The vapours wrap around my mind, and I feel my migraine slip away, followed by the anxious shake of my limbs. I didn't even realize how tightly wound my body was until I feel it all relax, almost sleepy. My eyes roll gently back, and I let my head dip onto the wet stone wall.
I can already feel the need for more, but I'm at least conscious enough to know that I need to get home. Apparating is out of the question, so it's up to me to walk the kilometer back. I stumble from the darkness, feet tripping briefly over each other, but I thankfully right myself before I hit my face, a weak chuckle in my throat.
One foot, then the next. Just one foot in front of the other, and I'll be home in no time. I let my palm run along the stone of the shops, trailing behind me, grounding me so I can be sure I'm still upright, still moving.
I'm sure I've been walking for close to an hour; my legs feel weak from their journey, and I slide down the wall, knees almost knocking me in the face. My eyes glance back up towards the sky, and it's not so scary anymore, still dark, but I can see a few stars peeking through the clouds.
"Fucking hell, Malfoy."
I squint up, and silhouetted in the yellow glow of the streetlamp is my redheaded colleague.
"What're you doing here?" My words are slow, and I can feel the effort it takes to get my tongue, teeth, and lips to work together. "You're here for drugs?" I blink away the sludgey feeling in my brain, one eye closing to make sense of him.
"This is the second time in one day I'm picking your sorry arse up off the ground, and I swear to Circe it better the be the fucking last… ever." His hands grip me under my arms, and he lofts me to my feet. When I stumble, he catches me. "What are the odds of you getting splinched if you side Apparate?"
"Um." My eyes flicker closed, and I lean my weight onto him. "Pretty… pretty… what?"
A string of obscenities trickles past his lips, but I can't make sense of them, only on the feeling of him dragging my partially limp body down Knockturn Alley.
My conscious goes in and out, but somehow my feet keep walking, keep trudging forward through the endless nothingness of this night.
When I hear the click of the lock on my front door, I fall to my knees.
Out of sheer exhaustion or relief – I'm not sure which – I'm just there, on my knees in an empty victory that feels an awful lot of like defeat.
My nails sink into the plush area rug that I've paid way too much money for, crawling my way to my couch.
"This is fucking ridiculous, Malfoy." The strained efforts of George's words as he hoists me up aren't enough to make me feel shame. I feel nothing.
Endless catacombs of nothingness beckon me deeper, higher, lower. Nothing hurts; everything is just that: nothing. And it doesn't feel good like Vega, but it feels right, and I'm not fighting off the darkness anymore. I just am part of it, woven into the blackest depths of a void that is simultaneously purposeful and senseless.
"I gotta close up the shop." Disappointment laces in his words, but I don't mind them.
I focus on making my lips form proper shapes, on pushing the air from my belly through my teeth. "Grrranger," I manage, and it sounds wrong, but it's all I've got left in me.
I hear him levy a heavy sigh. "I'll call her."
When the door closes I flinch, the noise grating against me.
Don't need more. Don't need more. Need more.
I know I don't need it, but I fucking want it. I want to melt into this expensive plush until I'm a puddle seeping through the worn wood floors.
With failing, clumsy fingers I push the cork out of the vial and manage a harsh snort.
Everything fades to black. The last thing I register is the sound of the vial smashing against the wood floor.
There's a frenzy of panicked voices, and something tugs on my face. Tears are running down my cheeks, but I'm aware enough to know they aren't mine.
Like a lighthouse in a hurricane, my subconscious locks onto one voice, one beacon in the darkness.
Granger.
She's fucking here, and I want the muscles in my neck to work so I can look at her again up close. I can't remember if the flecks in her chocolate eyes are more caramel or honey, and it's something I can't live another day without knowing.
All my effort goes to my eye lids as I flutter them open, but my eyes are rolling back. My stomach flutters when I feel her head on my chest, maybe listening for sounds of life, but for a moment she's a lover cradled in my arms, resting for the night.
"Goddamnit, Malfoy." Her voice doesn't sound like hate, it sounds like worry and love and her sobs are breaking something in me. "You'll choke on your vomit."
I don't deserve you. You don't deserve this.
She's pulling me up, her small hands wrapped around the back of my neck, and I want to help her, want to do whatever it is that she's trying to will my body into doing, but I fucking can't. Fucking can't.
Worthless. Nothing. You're nothing.
She manages to roll me, and I realized that was her plan all along when I hit the floor with a thud, one arm trapped under me.
The air all around me shifts as she lays down next to me on the carpet, a foot away but face to face. I fall back asleep to a lullaby of her broken cries and her hand wrapped around mine.
My conscious stirs when I hear Granger and George talking in hushed voices near the door.
"Is he gonna be alright?"
"He's seen worse," Granger's meek voice offers, and I know she's looking at my broken form, mouth hanging open and drool falling out.
"I'll stay with him. Go on home."
"No," she interrupts in a rush. "No. I'll stay tonight."
"I'm across the hall, okay?"
I can hear her muffled cries against his shirt, and I imagine him holding her through her pain. That job was mine over a pan of lasagna just days ago, but I've resigned from my post. I've given it to those more worthy.
I'm stored with her other lost things now: recipes and perfume bottles, books and photo albums. Memories that hurt too much to face alone.
Weary, I stir from my dreamless sleep. My mouth is dry and coated in a metallic film that makes my stomach churn. I can feel the weight of several bad decisions deep in my bones, and while everything is hazy, one thing is clear.
My eyes peek open to find Granger in her normal state, curled in on herself on an armchair with a mess of curls on her shoulders.
Guilt slams into me, and it's heavy on my shoulders, armour I desperately want to shake off.
I push myself up to sitting position and rest my head in my shaking palms, a dry cough escaping my ravaged throat.
She jumps in her seat, wand drawn and pointed at the door. With a few blinks she's back here with me.
"Malfoy." Her voice is dazed but drenched in worry.
"Granger. I'm–" My voice shakes, and I purse my lips tightly. I can feel a well of hot tears form at the corners of my eyes, and I hate that she's about to see me cry. "I'm so fucking sorry. I swear, it's not going to happen again. I know I'm not coping." There they are. The traitorous tears are sliding down my cheeks and without lifting my head, I know she's moving. She's crouching between my knees, and my hands move to rest on either side of her face, cradling her curls in my unworthy fingers.
My forehead drops to rest on the top of her head, and I can feel her silent cries vibrate through her body. My tears are falling onto her lap, and she lifts her face to examine me, her fingers wiping away the hurt. Even if she didn't have a wand, I'd know she was magic by the way she can heal me with a look.
"I'm so sorry. So sorry. Sofuckingsorry." I'm muttering, and it's almost nonsensical and definitely repetitive as she wipes away the tears that continue to fall.
"Shhh, shhh. You're okay, Malfoy. You're gonna be alright." She's reassuring me over my sobbing, and I slide from the couch, draping my arms around her and crushing her to me. I'm surprised when her arms squeeze around me, and I feel her rub a soothing pattern against my spine. "You're okay. You're okay, Malfoy." Her mantra.
When I release her and take her cheeks in my hands, I'm purpose-driven and strong. "I'm done. I promise, okay? That was the last time. I know it was a fucking awful mistake, and you don't deserve it, don't deserve any of this. I'm going to be better for you. I promise."
Her eyes flicker closed, and the pads of my thumb push the tears from her freckled cheeks.
"Good. I want–" She gulps and doesn't meet my eye. "I want you to be better, Draco. That's all I want. I hope you know that." She turns her face from grasp, and it's colder when her touch is gone. "It just can't be for me. You need to be better for you."
My eyes tighten as anger flashes briefly across my face, my teeth baring for a moment. "Of course it's for you. I'd do anything for you–"
"Exactly! You can't… I can't have that much pressure on me. I can't know that I'm the crux of your sobriety, that anytime we disagree or you get frustrated you go might go off the rails. You need to get better, be well, and be whole again. But–" she sucks in a breath that cracks in her chest. "–it can't be for me. I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" I feel my brain pulsing, angry in it's need for relief. The spare vials in my pocket are calling to me. It's like the lighthouse has turned off its light and the Nebula tossed out a life vest, a final attempt to keep my head above water.
"I can't be here for you like this anymore. You can't call me when you're too high–" her words are tumbling out frantically – she's rehearsed them already. She's already decided. "I can't show up to clean up your mess. You were right; there are things about me that are still broken, and this isn't helping."
"But I'm telling you it's not going to happen anymore, Granger. You can believe me! I wouldn't–" The waves are pulling me under and I'm reaching out for her. She has to know what she fucking means to me. "If I knew we were together, then I would never. I wouldn't have used this time, but I was so fucking upset about your date, and I just lost it. But I wouldn't. I wouldn't."
"No, Draco."
"Please!" I cry out, my heart stuttering and failing again and again in my chest. "I need us. It's… it's all I have."
She closes her eyes in pain, her hands traveling up to shield her face. I can see how much it hurts her to have me beg, but I can't stand to do anything else. I fucking need her. If it's not her, it's drugs. There is nothing else.
Her shoulders stiffen and straighten, and she raises her tear stained face to mine. "No. I can't be all you have. Can't you see that? It's not healthy for either of us, and I need to find something other than fixing broken things. I need… I need you to want more for me than just being the girl you call when your high goes wrong."
My mouth falls open and there are a million more pleading words I want to say, but she's right. I want more for her than this. More than me.
I nod sharply, and I see her breathe a sigh of relief that I'm done fighting. She clasps her cold hands on my cheeks and leans her forehead onto mine, a farewell.
"Can I tell you something?" She whispers in the quiet moment of our parting.
"Yes," I croak with a harsh voice.
"I don't know if it will hurt or help."
My shoulders rise and fall. "Say it anyway." I'll take anything she has to say – even if it destroys me.
The moment stretches on for awhile, and I can see tears stripe her cheeks through my wet lashes. "I think… I think I'm in love you." The words hang for a moment between us, and the breath I suck in is staggered. It hurts. It hurts more than it helps. Her slender fingers dig into the flesh at the back of my neck, pulling me impossibly closer. "Leaving right now is the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I don't know how to leave you after I've just found you. But I need you to know that–" She sucks in a desperate breath, pressing her forehead harder against mine. "–that you healed a lot of my broken pieces. Knowing you and loving you... you fixed pieces of me that I didn't realize were broken." Her mouth puckers and twists, trying to bite back her sobs and failing. I can see the effort it's taking her, and I want to take it all away. "You taught me how to laugh again, and I'm so fucking sorry I couldn't be that for you. I wanted so badly to be the one who could fix you too."
I feel the pain of her confession everywhere, consuming me, weighing me down until I can't fight for air anymore. I want to tell her how she's fixed me – or that she's fixing me, rather. How she's the only one who makes all this worth doing anymore, but she's already asked me to stop. She's asked me to care enough to let her go – who am I to deny her anything?
There's hesitation in her touch, but with shaking fingers, she lifts my face. I can't bear to meet her gaze, and I let my eyes travel along the swell and dips of her mouth. Her lips hover over mine.
This will break me.
Fuck it. It's all broken anyway.
I let her come to me, let her give me her kiss so I'm not taking anything she can't afford to give, and her lips are hungry as they press against mine. My hands dig into her waist, bringing her closer, memorising the feeling of her body flush against mine. I wish I could just keep her here. I can taste the salt of our tears on my lips and I wonder if she can taste the drugs on mine. I feel her whimpering in all the wrong ways as we kiss for the last time and it wrecks me.
When she tears her mouth from mine, I keep my eyes trained on the floor between our knees. I'm too ashamed to look up and see all the hurt I've caused her. I feel her lips on my cheek, then again on my forehead, but I remain hunched, head hung in defeat.
"Goodbye, Malfoy." Her words are a whisper against my skin and when she leaves, it's tangible, clinging to my body like a wet woolen cloak and I'm dragged deeper into the abyss that I've spent my entire fucking adult life trying to crawl out of.
For a few moments, I allow the grief to overwhelm me, letting angry sobs claw their way out as I break apart. Eventually, they subside, the crashing waves reduced to gentle swallows.
There's no hesitation as I bring the vial to my face with a shaking hand.
