And I'm going to give you girl,
what you need.
I'm the drug in your veins,
just fight through the pain.

All this started, really, truly started with him.

It was in her desperation, her weakness, her plea for emotion that got her into this mess. This dirty, scornful wonderful mess.

The drugs of doctors had made her flat as a tack. Flat and hopeless, like she couldn't raise an eyebrow on a sarcastic comment, smirk at Malfoy's discomfort in the family home, snigger when the last of the faithful patrons had vacated her dormitory with their shirts crumpled and ties forgotten, hanging around the stands of her four poster bed as a trophy. Flat and emotionless, all whim and wish forgotten in the name of her health.

(Surely it wasn't healthy to feel this way?)

She felt a slip in magic when she took the little lithium crystals, a little lapse in power, and it made her feel worthless. She may as well have been a muggle.

(or a squib, there was one somewhere up the family tree).

So she stopped taking them. It really was as simple as that. Nothing in her life had ever been so easy.

Mama had told her don't you dare Bellatrix, you'll kill us all with your psychobabble. But since when had mama been right? She hadn't been able to get out of bed for weeks now, and it was really just a sign of more useless things to come.

And she'd snapped out of it. Snapped out of stupor with a click of her bony fingers; she was real again, felt alive again.

There were ups and downs like nothing else, at first, very violent and tumultuous, later softer, blurring the lines between normalcy and irrationality. So she looked for other avenues of that rush, and it had started with him.

Of course, she was better than him, more powerful, more daring. Of course she had things he didn't, like intelligence (when unmarred by fleeting thoughts and dreary apathy) and (almost) flawless blood lineage.

Of course it was surprising when she ran headlong into his study frame at the opening of the viaduct entrance in her hurry to dispose of a conspicuous pair of Hufflepuff socks late on a Monday night.

(She had always thought Hufflepuffs boring, but really, this one was quite daring).

She remembers his trademark body positioning, casually leaning on the stone wall separating them from the moat. He never seemed to stand or sit, only casually drape himself over some kind of object, his tie always slightly off centre, his top lip curling up to his white teeth.

He laughed at her tossing the socks off the edge and she spun around, all too quickly to avoid his shoulder, which jutted out along the stone. Wary, she stepped back.

'I knew what they said was true.'

'Is it?'

He had piercing blue eyes, probably the only feature about him that mildly attracted her, and she wondered why he hadn't frequented her dormitory yet.

(she longed, in just the moment, to have his tie around her bed stand).

It was the only time she recalled ever feeling something slightly more than pure desire, something that ran a little deeper than lust. It scared her and fluttered around in her stomach for days after their meeting, something she had never had experienced (or desired to ever experience).

His hand drew deeper into his pocket and flourished a small plastic bag, containing two orange pills, lying innocently next to each other.

She frowned and bit her lip impatiently. She wasn't sure whether she should leave or stay, if there was any point in remaining out in the cold any longer.

'Ever wondered how it would feel to fall off this?' he asked, his hand patting the solid wall next to him.

'No one would live to remember' she answered, exasperation growing in her tone.

'I thought you were crazy' he murmured cautiously.

'I'd like to see you jump' she gritted her teeth together, removing her wand from inside her robes. 'Then again, I'm not sure I would have the time' she continued, returning her voice to its former nonchalance and stepping out to enter back into the viaduct entrance.

'Hold on.'

'Why?'

'I want to be crazy with you' he smirked, tossing one of the orange pills towards her.

She nabbed it with her hand, casually turning it over, studying it in the faint moonlight.

'Take it.'

'Why?'

'Because I am. You're not…weaker than me Bella?'

So she violently shoved the orange circle into her mouth and bit hard, cutting her tongue in the process.

And even as she felt the blood from her wound trickling into the bottom of her mouth, her mind was clouded by orange.

Dizzy orange.

He laughed.

The Weeknd - What You Need