AN: Ok. I made a lyer out of myself. Last time I told you this chapter was gonna be called Who I Am And Who I Ought To Be...but I found myself writing more for Addicted. And, well…here it is. Another two-parter. Not unlike it's sibling chapter Obsessed, Addicted has two parts. Like I said with Bloodlust, it all has the same theme, I just wanted to separate the two stories. NEXT CHPATER IS AND I PROMISE WIAWIOTB! Fwaha...I have a short form for it! lalala...

And AGAIN! Thank you thank you to Starry Tain, "faithe"-ful reader, who likes me puns! HAHA GET IT FAITHE-FUL?...oh dearie me..I need to stop...
Starry, this is for you. .

Chapter Eight – Addicted Pt.2: Used

The next few days were a flurry of snowflakes and emotions, as Harry and Ron began noticing Hermione's absence in most of her classes, as well as Draco's. Ron had not spoken to Harry about their conversation from that night, though it still weighed heavily on Harry's mind. He felt no feelings for Draco, whatsoever. But it was apparent whenever Draco was around Harry, that he felt more than just hatred for the Harry. He looked on with lusting eyes that he thought would never been seen by anyone, though everyone within five feet could feel the vibe coming from Draco. Everyone, that is, but Ron.

"What do you think those two have been up to? Whenever she's not around, neither is he. Did'ja notice that, Harry?" Ron muttered over lunch one day, neither Hermione nor Draco were in sight.

"Oh no, I didn't, until you told me for the tenth time, Ron." Harry replied sarcastically, and Ron's ears turned pink. Harry had become very snippy when the subject turned to Draco, and Ron kept clear of that topic at all costs.

"D'you…d'you think she likes him, Harry?" he said meekly, giving Harry a timid look. Harry shot him a disbelieving glance.

"No way." He said with finality. Ron still looked unconvinced and as depressed as ever, so Harry took a stab, injuring his own ego, "Remember? He likes me." Though he wished he hadn't have said that, he was glad to see a smile spread across Ron's face and a laugh come from him. Only when Ron rolled down the hill laughing hysterically did Harry shoot a leg-locker curse at him, and Ron ended up spinning uncontrollably, into the lake. The words sunk in deeper when he said it, Harry thought, helping Ron out of the lake and drying him off with his wand. A piece of seaweed was strung across Ron's hair, though Harry neglected to tell him to take it off. He sat beneath their tree again, thinking of what he had said. It seemed true enough, that Draco had feelings for him. And he couldn't shake that feeling off, no matter how bad he wanted to.

"I'm going to find her." Ron said, and stood up. Harry muttered something about being right on, go for it, and I'm right behind you, but Ron marched into the castle alone, leaving Harry with his thoughts.

Ron marched into the castle, determined on finding Hermione. His only problem was, he had no clue where she was. He looked around frantically, standing in the Great Hall, hoping maybe the answer would pop out of the giant hourglasses standing before the doors, or a stature of a Wizard holding a small octopus, it's tentacles wrapping carefully around his neck. The statue was supposedly a secret passageway into the Janitorial cupboards throughout the school, or so he heard from Fred and George. He wondered how they even got to know all this stuff in the first place, when an idea struck him. He raced from the Hall up the stairs to the Gryffindor common room, where Neville stood before the Fat Lady, looking quite anxious.

"Uhm…g-g-gillyweed?" Neville stammered, and the Fat Lady rolled her eyes. Neville looked around helplessly, until he spotted Ron sprinting up the stairs. "Ron!"

"Good Lord, child! Can't you remember anything? The password is not…"

Ron skidded to a halt in front of them both, and the Fat Lady sniffed, pointing her nose to the air.

"Oh thank goodness, Ron! I've forgotten the password aga-" but Ron merely pushed aside Neville, who's arms flailed wildly as he lost his footing and fell into a painting of Three penguins marching across a desert, being eyed hungrily by a nearby rattlesnake. The penguins squawked and the snake hissed, and Neville fell into a trembling heap on the floor.

"Firewhiskey!" Ron shouted, panting. The Fat Lady nodded, but didn't open up. "See, boy," she said, staring pointedly at Neville, "it's easy enough to remember, why can't you grasp tha-"

"LET ME IN YOU STUPID BINT!" Ron shouted, and the Fat Lady opened her mouth in shock, gave him a deadly glare, and swung open. As the portrait closed, it hit Ron in the behind and he fell onto his face, behind him a faint sniggering could be heard. Ron picked himself up and hurried up to the boys dorm. He burst through the door and ran straight to Harry's trunk, opening it quickly, and tearing the insides apart. He finally found what he was looking for, and bolted from the room, down the stairs, and through the portrait, opening it so suddenly, he knocked Neville, who was trying to get in, off his feet again. "Sorry!" Ron called behind his shoulder, and raced off.

Hermione was spending the afternoon in the Room of Requirement with Draco, though this visit was being cut short. Draco had a detention with Professor McGonagall that lunchtime, and he told this to a disappointed Hermione as he picked up his bag.

"It'll be the entire lunch, so don't expect me back." he said, looking at her crest-fallen face. He smiled and opened the door. Hermione tried to smile back, but she found it truly devastating when Draco left her. She had grown attached to him, even though it was for reasons she was ashamed of. He had aught her so much, how to conceal her cuts, how to use other objects to inflict harm. It was disgusting, and immoral, but Hermione couldn't seem to stop.

Hermione was twirling a razor between her fingers, watching Draco carefully. She had inherited his dark charm, rubbing off on her from his time around her. She had noticed, as well, that Draco was softer around her. Though she knew he wasn't changed at all, for she saw him relentlessly taunt a group of fourth years the day before, taking one of their wands and prodding them in the back with it. She hadn't stopped it, as her Prefect duties would've naturally inclined her to do, and she felt a twinge of guilt when she saw the small Ravenclaw girl in the hall the next day, purple spots all over the back of her robes spelling out the word "PRAT".

Draco now was looking at her carefully, and her eyes dropped, not meeting his gaze. He tilted his head to the side.

"How many is that today?" She looked up as he said this. His gaze was hard, strong, and unfaultered. She knew exactly what he was talking about, but didn't answer. "3 now?" he pressed on, and she nodded her head. She heard him take a little sigh, and she looked up. He bit his lower lip. "It's not a bad day, though, is it?"

"Every day is a bad day." She replied, giving him a wry grin.

"No. not what I meant, love." He walked over to her and squatted so his face was at her level. "A bad day is when you do it one, twice, maybe more, willing yourself to press harder each time, but every time you're balled up crying or shaking hoping this next one will be the last you'll ever have to do. That's a bad day." She lowered her gaze again, but ever so faithfully, his fingers reached under her chin and lifted her face to look at him. "Other days, ever single other day that's not a bad day," he smirked slightly, "is just one of those days when you just do it. Just to feel real. Or to feel how fucking numb to the pain you've become. Just to say you did it. It's a just day. Just 'cause." She swallowed hard and he stood, backing away from her slowly. "You're becoming worse than me, pet. Not quite, though."

"I'm more like you than you think." She said, narrowing her eyes. Draco shook his head.

"The difference between you and I, well, to be like me, you gotta' love it. You gotta make it part of you, it's a culture, it's not just a fad. You do it for reasons not even you yourself can comprehend, do it for reasons that no one will understand. That's when you'll be like me. When you do it for the thrill, for the taste. What's this, love? Giving me a look of contempt, are we? Well, tell me, are you like me?"

Hermione closed her eyes and looked away from him. She heard him move after a moment, the door open, and then close. What she didn't know, was that she was being watched. She was being watched as she lay back onto the bed, as she picked up her razor, and as she unrolled her sleeve. Only did she know she was being watched when her eyes came to rest upon the long red lines that laced her arm, and she heard a small gasp, a swish, and suddenly, Ron was standing beside her bed, the invisibility cloak and Marauders map in his hands. She gasped herself and pulled herself up into a sitting position.

"RON!" she cried, pulling her sleeve back down. But Ron was too quick for her this time. He grabbed her arm and pulled it up, staring down in disbelief at her scar and gash ridden arm. She looked away from him, as he stood, staring for a moment.

"Hermione." He said softly. She didn't look up. "Hermione." He said again, this time with a bit more force. She finally cast one eye towards him, tears leaking out. He knelt beside her and looked her in the face. She had never seen Ron as serious as he looked now. "What has happened to you?"

Draco walked slowly to his lunchtime detention, dragging his feet along the cobblestone floor. His mood had been low lately, ever since the mishap in the hall with Harry. How could he have been so stupid. Harry was sure to avoid him now. Not even being friends with Hermione could get Draco in. He's scared him off. He felt odd, thinking this. Hermione is his…friend? He didn't feel that close to her. But he felt the same thing in her as he suspected she did in him. They were the same, in some aspects. In others, most others, completely different. He turned the corner to climb the stairs, and standing before him was none other than,

"Harry!" he said in surprise, now face to face with the green eyed boy. Harry looked at him, his eyebrows raised slightly. "I mean, Potter." Draco cleared his throat and straightened himself out, his usual sneer sliding easily back onto his face, no hint of loving care in his voice. Harry slowly walked towards him, which was a matter of two steps. Draco was forced back into the landing of the stairwell.

"That's MR. Potter to you, Draco." Harry said in a low voice, prodding Draco with an extended index finger, pushing him into the wall behind him. Draco's mouth dropped open and he stared at Harry disbelievingly.

"What're you doing?" Draco asked, his breath becoming rapid as Harry moved closer to him. Harry's lips were already by Draco's ear when Draco said this. He leaned back, taking a look at him. "Are you flirting with me?" Harry's mouth worked open and close, a stutter coming from him. Draco watched him carefully for a moment, then threw Harry against the wall opposite to him, one hand reaching around and twisting into his raven hair, another slowly sliding down Harry's thigh. "This is how you flirt, Potter." Draco growled low in his throat, and Harry stifled a gasp that had come up into his throat. Draco's hand was now in Harry's pants.

"I think they call this second base, not flirting, Malfoy." Harry said this name with as much lust as Draco has just used in his. It felt easy to speak to Draco this way, surprisingly. He had no clue what he was doing, though. Impulses took over. Whatever he was doing, though, Harry thought, he felt wild. He felt crazy. He felt good…he felt…loved.
Needless to say, Draco missed his detention that afternoon. He and Harry stayed in the abandoned stairwell, but ended up in an abandonded classroom, and as Harry looked back on the events of that afternoon, he smiled in spite of himself. He was now lying on his stomach in the common room, twirling a quill in his hand, looking down at a spare piece of parchment that was supposed to be his Potions essay.

His stomach still jolted as he thought of Draco's hand (the one down his pants). A new feeling of a foreign hand sent Harry's spine tingling, his skin became filled with goose-pimples, and his head was involuntarily thrown back as Draco's fingers worked themselves around his manhood. His breathing quickened, and his heart raced as Draco's mouth closed around his neck, his skin surprisingly warm and soft. Harry felt his own hand come up to Draco's head, snaking his fingers through the silky blonde hair. His other hand met Draco's other hand, and their fingers interlocked. Draco slid their hands up the wall, above their heads, and Harry squeezed his hand hard as Draco's working fingers caused Harry to become hard. Draco smiled into Harry neck and then their mouths locked onto each other, Draco's tongue slowly sliding into Harry's, another new sensation for Harry, who took it gradually and responded with his own tongue.

Harry remembered how Draco's arms slithered around his waist, and he pulled him into the hall, looking around. They found the empty classroom and walked in together, Harry giggling as Draco kicked the door closed with his foot. As soon as they entered the room, Draco had Harry against another wall, his mouth sliding down to Harry's collarbone. Harry gasped as Draco undid his belt, then looked up to face Harry. Harry's eye met his and Draco grinned.

"Do you love me?" Harry asked, staring into the grey eyes that were now warm and shining.

"Oh Gods, do I…" Draco whispered, resting his forehead against Harry's. Harry felt his hunger for Draco grow, and his eyes closed.

"Do you want to?" he asked, and Draco looked at him, surprised.

"Are you sure?" he asked, and Harry opened his eyes, the green gleaming in the dull light from the white light coming into the windows. Draco sighed and smiled. He took another breath, and dropped Harry's pants, going straight to undoing his own. Harry reached down, slowly stroking Draco's penis into hardness. Draco tilted his head back, his body still pressed against Harry's. Harry then slowly rotated Draco, his back from the wall. He slowly leaned over a desk, taking a breath. He heard Draco pull out his wand and mutter a spell. Harry kept his head down. He had no clue wha he was doing here, why he was doing this. He tried to relax, but his tense muscles kept twitching, half with anxiety; half with excitement. And then, Draco entered him. Harry gasped and his head flew back, and he heard Draco let out a moan. Harry had never felt such wonderful pain in his life. It hurt like hell, he had to admit, but the slow motion of Draco's hips, and Draco's soft voice saying, "You alright, love?" calmed him. Harry nodded, and winced as Draco pulled out slightly, gasping. Draco pushed in again, harder this time so that Harry had to step forward slightly. Harry felt a groan escape his lips, and Draco whispered, "I love you…"

Now, Harry was left with his thoughts in the common room. Draco had earned another detention for missing this one, but he walked out of McGonagalls office with a smile on his face. One last kiss and he left Harry at his last class, them having missed one of their afternoon classes. Harry smiled all day, and barely even noticed when neither Ron nor Hermione showed up for their classes.

AN: Harry's an awful flirt job, ain't he? HAHA…I HATE HARRY…absolutely, no lie. I have ever since the books came out. HATE HIM HATE HIM. So it's great making him look like a prat. Mwahaha…but there, Isi. You're beloved smut. nod Hope I did well by you. Haha.