Harry Potters bloodshot eyes looked anxiously around the cluttered, messy living room of the tiny flat he shared with Draco Malfoy in London. He scratched the back of his head with a shaking hand, nervously waiting for Draco to return to the flat, and bring Harry what he needed. Snow whirled outside the grimy window and Harry closed his eyes against the orange light that filled the room, coming from the four mismatched lamps lying around the living area, on the floor, on top of a pile of books, an empty pizza box and a cracked glass table. Harry's face twisted in pain as the images of the final battle that haunted him everyday once more flashed into his mind. Ron lying battered and bruised in a pool of his own blood.Hermione starring glassy eyed, slumped against a rough stone wall, her wand falling slowly from her cold hand. Ginny, Dean, Lavender, Fred and George, countless names, countless lives lost, Harry's world shattered into a million pieces.

Draco was one of the only people left alive that Harry had known, and it was with him that he had sunken into the pityful existance he was living, dependant, addicted, a mere shell of the former Harry Potter. His eyes, that had once shone bright green, now looked dull, blank, empty, with great dark circles around them. His hair was matted, and messy, dirt clung to his clothes, and he had lost more weight than was healthy.

"could have saved them," he muttered to himself, as he did everyday before Draco came in with what he craved, "should have been me, it's my fault your dead." Harry's eyes snapped open as he heard the door click open and slam shut. Draco stepped into the room, covered in snow, looking just as ill as Harry, his skin so pale and waxy, with rings under his eyes. Harry sat up "Draco, you've been ages, have you got...? I really need..." he stammered.

Draco moved slowly over to the sofa and sat down next to Harry shivering from the cold outside, with one hand he took Harry's, and with the other pulled out five small bags of powder from the thin jumper he was wearing and dropped them onto the glass coffee table.

Harry dropped Draco's hand from his and was immediately unwrapping one of the tiny bags, his hands shaking with the need to get it done, rolling up a five pound note inserting it into the bag and inhaling all of the cream coloured, powdered heroin up his right nostril. Harry fell back onto the sofa and took Draco's hand again as Draco was fumbling to open one of the bags. The cloud of intoxication was the only relief Harry felt each day, that slow dull buzz as the heroin coursed through his body, numbing his pain, and all his problems, and bad memories and pain floated away from him, they would come crashing back down onto his shoulders when the drugs ran out, but until then, encompassed by that hugely warm feeling, where nothing entered his head, he and Draco would sit, and hold eachother, slipping in and out of sleep and consciousness until they had consumed all the heroin they could, or until it ran out, then fall asleep and start the cycle again the next day.

"I'm not really addicted," Harry murmered slowly and softly, his eyes half closed, "I don't really need all these drugs you know"
"I know darling." Draco murmered in response. He knew this wasn't true.
"All i really need is you" Harry continued as he stroked Draco's hand, his eyes becoming heavier, with the heroin making his brain fuzzy, slowly slipping out of consciousness.
"I know darling." Draco murmered again.