An hour and a half later, Hermione could feel the Heroin begin to wear off. Forcing herself to do so, she sat up, sniffled, and trudged over to the stereo, turning the music down to the minimum level. She wondered how she had possibly been able to ignore it - before she turned it down, it had been loud enough to send vibrations through the furniture.
Andrew was no where to be seen; most likely, he had been called by a client, and had gone to meet them. Hermione was amazed he had left her in his house alone... unless, of course, he had expected her to remain in a half-passed out state while he was gone.
Sighing, Hermione sat on the floor, playing with her hair. Suddenly, it dawned on her that she had no idea what time it was - it was still light out, but the days were so long in the summer, that was of little relevance in terms of the time. She jumped up, nearly fell over, and stumbled to Andrew's phone, toppling over once she made it to the table it was sitting on. Reaching up, she pulled on the receiver cord, dragging it off of the table and onto the floor in front of her.
She had to slam the receiver down a couple times, having pressed the wrong number; once, she forgot who she was trying to call, and blankly stared at the number pad, before she remembered that her parents were probably frantic by now, wondering where she was.
The phone rang only two or three times before there was an answer.
"Hello?"
"Hey, mum, it's Hermione." She said, her words slurred, feeling strange coming out of her mouth. "Er... I don't think I'm going to be home tonight... I just wanted to make sure you weren't going to be worrying..."
Hermione's mother gave a sigh, "Hermione, what do you think you're doing? Do you think I have no idea what's going on?"
"Nothing's going on - what do you think is going on?"Hermione asked, twisting the telephone cord around her finger.
There was a silence, as if her mother didn't want to answer the question. "I want to know where you are - I'm coming to get you."
"No, mum, you aren't," Hermione replied. She wasn't about to let her mum see the sort of places she had been spending the majority of her time - she would never be allowed out of the house again.
"Yes. I. am!"
Hermione hung up the phone and pushed it away from her, wanting to cry. Her mother would never let her forget this, nor did Hermione want to face the fact that it had happened - she wasn't even sure exactly what had happened.
Andrew's paper bag was laying on the coffee table; Hermione grabbed it, and began to dig through it. Bags full of white rocks, unlabeled pill bottles, needles... She selected the bag that she recognized as Heroin, and hoped that she had seen it being cooked enough times to do it herself.
Her hands trembled as she wondered how much of the drug to put in the water - would the Heroin still in her system effect it? Did she put enough water in? She tipped a tiny amount in, hoping it would be enough, and brought it to a boil.
As she selected the vein to shove the needle in, Hermione did not care that this was, technically, stealing. She didn't care that, for all she knew, she had made the shot strong enough to have her dead in ten seconds. All that mattered to her was that she was feeling horrible, and the liquid inside this needle would make her feel better.
From watching others shoot up, she knew that the vein was just under her skin, and she wouldn't have to push hard to gain access. It hurt, just as much as it had the first time, but Hermione did not stop pushing the plunger down; she counted to four, and, with the needle still sticking out of her arm, she felt the drug hit her brain.
Laughing in relief, she sank to the ground, and lost all sense of being alive.
When Hermione was able to make sense of reality again, Andrew was there - along with four of his friends.
"You're a fast learner, you know that?" Andrew asked, seeing her with her eyes open. "I'm surprised you didn't kill yourself."
"That's what I've been told," Hermione yawned, aching from spending so much time on the floor. She stood, feeling wobbly, and sat down on the couch next to Andrew, wishing that she had some different clothes to change into.
One of Andrew's friends smirked, taking a drag from his cigarette. He offered the pack to Hermione, and, figuring she had done far deadlier things today, accepted one, and let him light it for her.
Instantly, she began to cough uncontrollably, causing half the people in the room to break out laughing. "You'll learn - give it time." The man who had offered her the cigarette said, taking it from her hand. Letting his own cigarette smolder, he took several puffs from Hermione's before stubbing it out, returning to his original one.
"What time is it?" Hermione asked - she thought about asking what day it was, even - for all she knew, she had been in the grips of Heroin for an entire day.
Andrew checked his watch, "Just after nine. Why?"
Hermione sighed, wondering where to start. "I called my mum, told her that I was going to spend the night away... she wanted to come get me, and I just hung up on her. She's going to be so pissed at me."
"Er... no offense... but if you're going to be doing things like Heroin, you'll have to get used to making your mummy and daddy upset."
Hermione's face grew red - of course she should have thought about that before she said anything. Andrew, she knew for a fact, hadn't seen either of his parents since they kicked him out of their house, more than three years ago. Why should he care about her mother being a little mad at her?
"What am I going to do?" Hermione moaned, rubbing her eyes. "I've really fucked up this time."
Another of Andrew's friends - one she knew fairly well, a man named Brian - said, "I think you've got a very hard decision to make. Either you stop everything, right here and now, and go home, or you continue on your way, and stop worrying about what your parents think or do."
Hermione considered this. "I have to go home at some point. It's not like I can avoid them forever. I haven't even thought about school or anything yet..."
She thought about the horrible year she had just gone through. How would it feel to be withdrawing off of several drugs, all at once? How would she even be able to get an illegal drug into Hogwarts?
"What's your school like?"
Hermione thought about her words carefully. "It's boarding school; really far away." She simply said, hoping they wouldn't ask her more about it.
"In other words, you go there, and you are completely screwed?"
"Basically, yeah." Hermione answered. There was no way she would be able to make thirty pills last for more than two weeks - nor was there any way for her and Andrew to make transactions at Hogwarts. The idea of not going back crossed her mind... skipping her O.W.L. year; just as Voldemort began to come back in to power... For drugs?
What use would she be, really? She wouldn't be able to do school work if she was sick half the time. She would never be able to help Harry and Ron if she couldn't even help her self...
Silence fell; Hermione realized how smokey the air was, and how heavily the smell of alcohol filled the room. Trash of every sort littered the ground; it looked as though the room had not been cleaned in weeks. This was what she had always thought a drug house would look like - she never thought that she would end up in one, contemplating her future.
"I don't go back for a little while yet. I'll figure something out." Hermione said, wishing she didn't have to think about this when all she wanted to do was sleep.
The conversation shifted, and Hermione was able to nod in and out. It was not particularly hot out, and she was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and shorts, but Hermione still felt undeniably warm. It was a good feeling - one she never wanted to stop. Would she give up everything for it?
Right now, feeling it, she would say that she just might have.
The next morning, Hermione said good-bye to Andrew, gathered up the things she had brought over, and began the walk to the nearest bus-stop. She was dreading having to face her parents, but, as she had said the night before, it wasn't like she could stay away from them for the rest of her life; disappearing for some-odd days while she hid out at Andrew's house would only make them even more angry with her.
The bus ride was only going to be fifteen or so minutes long; Hermione sat in the back, sank down, and hoped that nobody noticed her. She had never known the Heroin had a hangover effect; she couldn't wait to get back to Andrew's.
A young mother sat in front of Hermione, and she focused on the sound of her trying to sooth her child. She had never felt this jumpy in her life - if someone were to suddenly pop out from behind her, she would sprang a foot in the air, and then, would have turned around and punched the poor soul.
Just... relax... She told herself, closing her eyes and rubbing her left temple. She wondered how quickly she could get out of her parent's house, and how badly they would react to her leaving again so soon. In all honestly, she wasn't sure she cared how loud they shouted, so long as they did nothing to physically prevent her from leaving. So long as they didn't, she would be in and out in minutes.
And, if they did try to stop her... she would fight her way out of the house.
Two shots of Heroin... two shots, and it had done this to her. One year of relying on Xanax, and one day of relying on Heroin, and she was already thinking of how she would push her father out of her way.
That was what she was thinking of as the bus pulled up to her stop. She was the only one to get off, and had a quarter of a mile walk; the buses came every fifteen minutes, so she wouldn't be back in time for the next one, but there was a chance she could make the one after that.
Walking was incredibly difficult - again, she was stumbling around, and the sidewalk seemed to be moving. Nausea had set in during the bus ride; she felt like, at any moment, she would duck into the bushes and puke.
Focusing on taking one step after another, Hermione somehow remembered the way to her house; it had occurred to her halfway there that she could be going the complete wrong way, and she wouldn't know it. The front door was unlocked, and she staggered into the entry hallway, half collapsing in the process, and clinging to the doorknob for support.
"Hermione?" She heard her mother call; moments after, she came down the staircase. "What did you do?"
Hermione shut the door behind her, and attempted to climb the stairs. "I didn't do anything - have a little faith in me for once in my life!"
"Do you really expect me to believe you're okay? You can barely walk!"
"Damn, mum, how many times do I have to tell you? I'm perfectly fine!" Hermione's mother slammed her arm in front of her, blocking her from getting up the stairs.
Rage like she had never felt before filled Hermione. How dare she try to keep her from doing what she wanted? Without thinking, she grabbed her mother's arm, tightly, and threw her arm out of the way.
As far as Hermione knew, she had never disappointed her parents before. She had always had good grades, been well-mannered, and respectful; she had certainly never been violent. In that one moment, however, Hermione saw a look cross over her mother's face - a look that said that she had no idea the person standing in front of her was her daughter.
"I want to know if you've been doing drugs." She demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.
More than anything, Hermione could not believe this was happening. She was not having this argument with her mum - she wasn't trying to get away so she could go get high.
"Of course I haven't," she lied.
Roughly, Hermione's mother seized her arm, carefully examining it. "What's that, then?"
She was pointing to one of the needle holes - the one she had given herself, which had a completely different look to it than the one Andrew had injected her with.
Shaking her head, Hermione pulled her arm back, and said, "just let me go."
"Hermione, I am not going to have you sticking needles in your arms in this house!" Her mother warned, her voice edging more and more into a yell. "If you want to throw your life away, find some place else to do it!"
Smirking, Hermione chuckled, "perfect."
Leaving her mother stunned, Hermione was finally able to race up the stairs, despite her wobbly state. Before she could be chased, Hermione locked herself in her room, and, for the first time in what seemed like forever, breathed.
She gave herself only a moment before opening her closet door. Her schoolbag was there, and she turned it upside down, emptying it of books, and carried it over to her dresser. Odds were, she wasn't picking things that matched, or even clothes that were appropriate for the weather, but at the moment, she did not care - she took the first things she could fit in her bag, and decided that whatever happened, happened. She changed out of the outfit she had been wearing for the last two days, and put on a tank top and jeans, knowing she now had at least one set of clothes that fit her.
It didn't cross her mind that she had just been kicked out of the place she had grown up. She didn't think about how long it might be before she saw the familiar rooms again. She just wanted to leave - leave, and move on to other things.
Unlocking her door, Hermione was surprised to see that her mother hadn't followed her. It made her nervous, thinking what she could be doing... hoping she still had a few minutes before her mother tried to confront her again, she rushed into the bathroom, and quickly took everything she would need. She knew she was forgetting things, but also knew she didn't have time to think things through - she would just have to make it work with what she remembered to take.
Finally, she was ready to go - just short of running, she went back downstairs, and slipped out the front door.
"My mom kicked me out." Was the first thing Hermione said when she opened the door to Andrew's. Knocking was beyond her train of thought; she was amazed by Andrew's stupidity at keeping his home unlocked in a neighborhood like this. "She saw the needle marks, and told me to leave."
"Fuck, kid, I'm sorry," Andrew answered, "I've been there - it's not a good place to be, is it?"
Hermione shrugged, "no, not really. You don't mind if I stay here for a little bit, do you?"
"No," Andrew said; Hermione put her bag down by the door, and sat down in the living room, giving an exasperated sigh.
"I have no clue what I'm going to do." She said, "I don't have any other friends here. Now, I don't even have a way to get to school, no place to live, and no job. I am so, completely, screwed."
It hit her that what she really wanted to do was cry - this was a situation she had never pictured herself being in, and yet, here she was. She had no Time-Turner to turn back the clock - she was stuck in this moment, and nothing she did could change that.
"Do you plan to keep using?" Andrew asked, sitting next to her.
"Probably - I was always withdrawing off Xanax last year; I'm never doing that again. I've already managed to get myself kicked out over this shit, so, I guess I might as well."
They were quite for a moment; Hermione felt as though spiders were crawling all over her; inside of her, even. She would brush at her skin, only to have the feeling instantly come back.
"One day - one goddamn day, and I couldn't even hide it that long." Hermione shook her head at herself, not believing she had managed to be that stupid.
"It was going to happen sooner or later. Look at it this way - now you don't have to deal with it later on."
Hermione gave a forced laugh, and, in a small voice, said, "yeah, that's looking at the bright side of things."
There was a knock at the door, and Andrew went to answer it. Hermione craned her neck around to see who it was; two young boys, no more than nineteen or twenty, stood in the doorway, looking quite as nervous as she felt.
"What do you guys need?" Andrew asked, moving aside for them to come in. The moment they had entered, he slammed the door shut, plunging the room back into semi-darkness.
One of them - brown hair and eyes, and incredibly skinny - answered, "whatever you've got, we'll take."
Andrew considered this, and answered, "I've got about a gram of Speed, if you're looking for what you usually get..."
Before Andrew could finish his sentence, the same boy said, "that's fine."
"Okay,"
Andrew left the room, supposedly to get the Speed, and the quite boy took the spot next to Hermione. He could have been the younger of the two - blond, with green eyes, and scabs all over his arms. Being around him made Hermione uncomfortable, but she wasn't about to say anything - really, what could she say?
Andrew was back shortly, bag in hand, and the brown-haired boy exchanged their money for it. "Pleasure doing business with you," Andrew said, pocketing the money. "I'll have another shipment in by Sunday, if you want to come back for more."
When Andrew said, "Sunday", Hermione thought that both of the boy's hearts may have been broken. Clearly, both of them were trying to think of how they could make a gram last between them for three days - would she be like that one day? She was already like that with Xanax... but, there were worse things than Xanax.
"Call us if something comes in sooner, yeah?" The quite one said, getting up to leave.
"As always," Andrew said, seeing them to the door.
While they were leaving, Hermione realized what she was feeling toward them - it was envy. They had their drugs; she wanted hers.
"Andrew, have you got any Xanax left? I've still got some money - enough to last me a few days."
She no longer counted how many Xanax she took a day - all she knew was, when she started feeling the last pills wear off, she would take more. And more. And more.
"Yeah, give me a second... not quite sure where I left them..."
While Andrew looked, Hermione went to the front pocket of her bag, and got out her money. When she said she had enough to last a few days, she realized she had been being highly optimistic. At the rate she was using, she would run out of money before the day was over - and that was if Andrew was feeling generous today. Panic set in, and she wondered what she could do to get more money.
Before she thought of an answer, Andrew called out that he had found them, and she pushed it from her mind. Right here, right now, she had money, and Andrew had her drugs. She would deal with the future when the future came. She took her razor from the same pocket, and rushed to the kitchen, where Andrew was.
She handed him the remainder of her money, and snatched the bag containing a half dozen pills from his hand. She went to the living room, poured two onto the coffee table, and began to chop them up, finely, trying to be quick, without leaving chunks large enough to get stuck up her nose. Nervously, she completed her task, and put her thumb against one nostril; putting her nose as close to the line as possible, she inhaled deeply, and sent the powder up her nose.
Instantly, she felt better. The high would not set in for several minutes, but just knowing that it would be coming made everything better. She was able to lean back, relax, and tell herself that, eventually, everything would be okay.
That night, both Hermione and Andrew out of pills, and Hermione completely broke, Andrew offered her a shot of Heroin, provided she pay him back for it.
Instantly, she took it, and let Andrew cook the drug and shoot her up.
The high from the drug was sickeningly familiar, and, as she sank into it, reminded herself that she was digging herself into a cycle - one she may not be able to break herself of.
Thank you for the support for the first chapter - I hoped you liked this one!
As always, I feel the need to explain myself...
Hermione's parents always seemed to be the up-right kind of folk. I mean... anyone who would name their child after a Shakespeare character must be pretty rigid. The only thing that made sense to me, if they had already suspected her of abusing her prescribed medication, and then saw needle marks on her arms, would be for her to be told to clean up or get out. And, if she was suddenly disappearing for long stretches of time, and then suddenly came home in an obviously impaired state, they would immediately think she was either drunk, or on drugs. It was the only outcome that made sense to me, so it was what I put down.
Thank you for reading - I hope you enjoyed it.