Author's Note: This was written way back in September for a comp. And while it won ABSOLUTELY NOTHING, I'm very proud of it. It helped me break free of my HP fandom funk and I wrote a new character. I enjoy this story, so full of angst and feels. I always find the fics no one else find promising some of my favorites. Anyway, I hope you loves like this as much as I do. it's a good throw back to my darker writings! Much thanks to GaeilgeRua for beta reading and offering alpha support too! Much love, xxDustNight

Disclaimer: All non-original characters, plot points, quotes, and information belongs to J.K. Rowling. The story plot and dialogue belongs to me. I do not write for profit.

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Home
Rated: M
Pairing: Hemrione/Marcus
Summary: It's hard to go on living when your home is gone, especially when you don't even know why she left in the first place. Sometimes we're able to put ourselves back together, but other times... We fall further apart.
Trigger Warnings: Heavy Angst, Drug Use, Alcohol, Substance Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Blood

Prompt: Hemrione/Marcus, I don't want to live forever 'cause I'll be livin' in vain
Song Recommendation: "I Don't Wanna Live Forever" by ZAYN ft. Taylor Swift

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Home

Sunlight streamed in the window, illuminating the empty side of the bed. Her side of the bed. With a groan, Marcus rolled onto his side and extended an arm, unconsciously reaching for what he knew was not there. She wasn't there, lying beside him in the early morning light like she used to be. His heart and his head ached, the former from the lack of her presence and the latter from coming down off the opioid potion he'd indulged in the night before.

Old habits often came back to haunt you when your world was suddenly flipped upside down. One minute you're happy, falling in love with someone you could see spending the rest of your life with, and the next, you're spiraling out of control when she up and leaves you without a proper explanation. That's where he was now, trying to stay afloat while slowly sinking under the weight of his heartache.

Marcus had been in love before, but none of those witches were her. None of them held a flame to the one and only Hermione Granger. Shit. None of them had made him feel before either, something he'd never thought possible after the shit he'd gone through. The war had been one fucked up ride for him, and he'd found himself at the bottom of the cauldron more often than not.

At least, until she walked into the Department of Magical Games and Sports one lonely afternoon and changed his life forever. It was a mistake; after all, she'd been looking for the Department of International Magical Cooperation and had taken a wrong turn. She'd been surprised by his presence, but glad to find he was willing to help her find her way to the right floor. Their chance meeting led to a coffee, and later to a date. Before they both knew it, the two of them were seeing each other regularly until, eventually, they moved in together a mere six months into the relationship.

Somehow, he'd known it was too good to be true. How could Hermione Granger, a beautifully brilliant Gryffindor ever truly love him, a lowly halfblood Slytherin, who also happened to be a recovering opioid potion addict? Oliver, his best mate, had told him he was nuts falling for her, but he'd chosen not to listen. Instead, he'd allowed her to take hold of his heart and soul until she was all that mattered.

Now, he was left hoping that he'd hear from her… That she would come back home and change her mind about whatever made her leave in the first place. That entire ordeal was still rather foggy to him, a night of drinking and misconstrued confessions that was far too complicated for him to even begin trying to decipher. To be honest, Marcus had no idea why she'd wanted to leave, but that she was adamant about the two of them breaking up.

That was what? Three weeks ago now? Maybe longer… He didn't know.

That first day, alone in the apartment, he'd been unable to cope and sought out his old friend. Luckily for him, his dealer was still in business and able to get him a few doses of his go-to potion. Cost him a small fortune, but it was enough to keep him going. For now at least. Nights became days and the days became nights until Marcus had no idea if he was sleeping or awake. She wouldn't want him to be like this, but he couldn't help it. Pain and loneliness were always his biggest triggers and there was no stopping it once he began.

With a defeated sigh, Marcus turned onto his back and decided that, maybe today, he would get out of bed and go to work. Maybe today he would get get over this cruel existence behind these four walls and make an effort to be the Marcus Flint she'd fallen in love with. Fuck. He didn't even know if she'd loved him to begin with. That's what started the conversation that brought about their downfall.

He'd told her he loved her. Hadn't he? Having given her everything, he'd expected her to return the gesture only to have her pull away. He could still taste the acrid bile that rose in his throat when she'd told him she couldn't stay with him. The sound of the door clicking into place as she left in the middle of the night still haunted his drug-induced dreams. More often than not, Marcus found himself startling himself awake, calling out her name in the hopes that she would walk back through that door, returning home to him once more.

Only, she never did.

He'd wake to cold sheets and an even colder heart. It was slowly killing him, he knew, but that was his existance now. So just like most days, Marcus somehow managed to crawl out of bed and stagger into the shower. After a cold shower and an entire pot of coffee, surely he'd be ready to face the day? He had to try. Today might be the day, so he had to be ready. As the freezing spray shocked him into a state of consciousness, Marcus tried to wrap his mind around the fact that he was slowly going crazy…

It wasn't a pleasant thought.

It was raining, one of her favorite types of nights, he miserably recalled. Marcus sat at the bar nursing his fourth or sixth glass of firewhisky. To be honest, he'd lost count as the seconds ticked by into minutes and then into hours as he continued to drown himself in his sorrows. He hated the man he was turning back into, having crawled his way out of this addiction some three years previously.

Merlin, he needed to go home before he was too drunk to apparate by himself. But his flat no longer felt like a home. It was dark and lonely and without her there, it was the furthest thing from a home he'd experienced since living in his family's estate after the war. That's when the addiction had begun, all those years ago. Well, in reality, it had only been ten years since the end of the war and the first time he'd taken an opioid potion.

An injury from the Battle of Hogwarts had landed him in St. Mungo's where he'd been prescribed to take the potion once daily for three weeks until he was fully healed. Only, three weeks had turned into six and then the hospital had stopped writing the script. After that he'd been on his own, swindling away what was left of the family fortune to get his daily fix. The potion numbed the pain he felt over losing his mother and father to the war and leaving him alone.

It wasn't until Oliver Wood found him slumped over in Diagon Alley one night that he'd been able to try and find a way to sobriety. Oliver, having been stunned by the drastic change in his old school nemesis, had been desperate to aid him in any way he could. He'd forced him off the opioid potions, cold turkey no less, and then forced him to join his Quidditch league to get back into shape. Somehow, along the way, they became friends and, honestly, Marcus couldn't complain.

The wizard was a good man. The best, probably. Nevertheless, as Oliver strolled into the Hog's Head shaking the rain from his hair, Marcus groaned inwardly and quickly downed the last of his drink. Spotting him at the bar, the former Gryffindor made his way through the small pub and hopped onto the stool next to him. An elbow gently nudged him in the side before he turned and gave him a look of understanding.

"You gotta get some rest, mate," Oliver told him, sighing heavily as he took in the dark circles under his eyes and the overall depressed aura about him. "You look like shit."

"I'm aware," he replied with narrowed eyes. "Can't sleep."

"Have you tried?"

Waving off the question, Marcus swallowed, wishing he could order another drink but he knew Oliver would never allow it. Fuck, he knew he was well past his limit when coming down from a high to begin with. Digging in his pocket for a few galleons, he placed them heavily on the bar before sliding from his stool.

"What do you think?" he countered, clumsily tugging on his cloak.

"Please tell me you aren't using again…" When Marcus didn't answer, Oliver let out a low whistle and scrubbed angrily at his face with one hand. "You're never going to win her back if you fall down that hole again, Marcus."

"Don't you think I know that," he hissed, turning too quickly and stumbling as he made for the door. He hated being told that he never had a chance of getting Hermione back when he didn't even understand why she'd chosen him to begin with. Not now, he told himself angrily, shoving open the door and storming out into the pouring rain with Oliver hot on his heels.

Standing in the middle of the cobblestone road, he didn't bother to flip on the hood of his cloak as he waited for Oliver to catch up to him. When he did, his friend used his wand to project an umbrella over the both of them. He honestly tried to ignore the judgemental look he was receiving, but it was difficult.

"What," he snapped, unable to hold his frustration back any longer. He'd been thoroughly enjoying his little pity party until Oliver barged in on him.

"What are you doing hanging around in a place like the Hog's Head?"

"In case you haven't noticed, Oliver, I don't really seem to fit in just anywhere right now."

"Well, maybe if you stopped taking the potions you'd be more suitable for everyday company," Oliver chastised him, giving him a right proper glare. "Now, let's go. I'm taking you back to your flat and making sure you get some sleep tonight."

"Great. Fine. Fantastic." This was all muttered sarcastically as Oliver gripped his arm and steered him towards the closest Apparition point. It wasn't as if he was in any shape to argue. With the opioids fading from his system and the firewhisky wreaking havok on his already muddled mind, there was no way he'd be able to stay upright for much longer anyways. At least with Oliver taking care of him, he knew he'd live to see the next day.

Not that he wanted to at this point. Not without Hermione.

Living without her was like living a half life…

"Marcus."

"Oliver."

"Come on, mate," his friend said on a sigh, shaking him slightly to further wake him up. "It's time to get up. You gotta go to work today. There's that big Quidditch match coming up that you have to finish planning."

The sun was shining brightly through the window and it burned his sensitive eyes. Squinting into the morning light, Marcus tried to remember why Oliver was in his bedroom. Mouth dry, he sat up and grabbed for the glass of water on his nightstand. He kept it there for occasions such as this when he woke up hungover and with a dry mouth from the potions. Gulping down the room-temperature liquid, he scowled as Oliver threw some clothes onto the bed and then pointed to the bathroom door.

"The shower's already going, so I suggest you get out of that bed before I have to force you. If you keep this up you're going to lose your job, or worse, I'll find you dead." Oliver moved to the open doorway, pausing to turn and give him a look that clearly indicated he hated having this conversation. Again. "Please, I can't watch you do this to yourself any longer. If you don't start making an effort to get sober again, I'm-I just don't know what I'm going to do."

He left then, leaving Marcus to reflect on his parting words. He was losing who he was, that much was apparent. Carefully, he extracted himself from the bed and stumbled for the shower that Oliver was kind enough to prepare for him. As he stood under the warm spray, he recalled a time when Hermione used to do this for him too. She used to prepare his shower and even have breakfast waiting when he was finished. Merlin, he missed that witch.

"Hermione."

Her name tasted so beautiful on his tongue, so he said it again. And again. He kept on saying it until he was crying out, screaming her name so loudly that he was certain his neighbors would hear. Tears were pouring down his cheeks, but the shower made them unrecognizable. Eventually, Marcus put his back to the shower stall wall and slid into a crumpled heap. Water continued to pour down all around him but it didn't matter.

All that mattered was that Marcus was living a lie. He couldn't keep going like this. He missed Hermione more than he could describe, and it was killing him. There was no way he was making it to work today. Hell, it would be a miracle if he'd make it at all the rest of this week.

After turning off the water, he crawled to the bathroom cabinet and opened the bottom drawer. Rummaging around to find his stash behind the hand towels, Marcus located one of the remaining vials of opioid potion and unstoppered it. Holding it level with his dark, grey eyes, he contemplated whether or not to take it, just as he always did. Hermione would be so disappointed in him, but there was nothing stopping him. Not anymore.

With a surge of self-loathing, he downed the potion and threw the vial against the wall. It shattered, reminding him of his fragile heart. The shards of glass hurt his hands, knees, and feet as he managed to stand and then stagger back into the bedroom. It looked like a massacre, the water from his body mixing with his blood as he fell face-first onto bed as the potion began to take effect.

His heart slowed, as did his breathing, the world becoming fuzzy and his mind a blur. All that he could think of was Hermione and how he wanted her here...with him. With the last of his energy, he called out her name, hoping that somehow she would hear him and come back home…

Unable to suppress the yawn that escaped her, Hermione threw a glance at the clock on the wall. It was only half past three, meaning she still had another hour and a half left to work before she could theoretically go home for the night. Tossing aside the quill she'd been using, she stood and stretched before making her way to the window that overlooked the Ministry's Atrium. Below, witches and wizards were scurrying about, some headed out for the day while others were still working hard as she was supposed to be doing.

In reality, Hermione could probably leave if she wanted to. Being Head of the MLE Department afforded her such luxuries, but ending her day meant having to go home to her tiny, empty flat. To be honest, she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to do that at all right now. With a sigh and a wave of her hand, the window clouded over, the view turning into that of the rainy day outside.

"Much better," she muttered to herself before returning to her desk. Perching on the edge of her seat, her teeth sunk into her bottom lip as she thought about the one thing that always came to mind in quiet moments such as this.

Marcus.

He was always on her mind these days, especially when she had nothing to distract her. It was really starting to affect her everyday life. Unable to sleep, she was constantly tired and trying to figure out if she'd made the right decision in leaving him the way she did. She'd wanted more, more than just the simple existence they'd been living for the two years since moving into together.

Marriage. That's what she was hoping for, and even hinted at it one night while they were out to dinner. Only… Only, somehow Marcus hadn't reacted the way she'd hoped, laughing off her comment about taking their relationship to the next level had hurt more than she thought it would, and suddenly, her life came crashing down around her.

Now she was stuck wondering if she'd dodged a killing curse or lost the love of her life.

Maybe Marcus hadn't understood what she was trying to say? Maybe he did and was waiting for the right moment to ask her to be his wife? Maybe he didn't love her the way she thought he did. Maybe he was more in love with her than anyone had ever been before.

There were too many maybe's and what if's to riffle through, and that's what was leaving Hermione so restless. Irritated with where her train of thought had flittered off to again, Hermione put away the unfinished forms on her desk and began to prepare to leave for the day. She'd take the rest of the day off and go to the bookshop. Books always made her feel better, which was probably why her shelves were bursting at the moment.

Nevertheless, she left the Ministry in a slightly better mood than she was previously. As she was nearing the exit into Muggle London, a hand reached out and stopped her. Whirling around, Hermione was surprised to find Oliver Wood staring down into her face, a worried expression in his eyes.

"Hermione," he greeted, releasing his hold on her arm.

"Hello, Oliver. What can I help you with? I'm just heading out for the day." She knew they had a meeting tomorrow about securing a few members of the MLE for the upcoming Quidditch event, but she had no intention of staying late today to avoid an early morning meeting tomorrow.

"It's Marcus. I'm worried about him," Oliver told her, glancing away as if he was hiding something. He crossed his arms and then returned his gaze to her own. Hermione felt a tingle of apprehension trickle down her spine, but shook it off.

"He and I broke up, Oliver, so I don't know what you want me to do about him." It may have come off a little harsh, she thought, especially when she saw the incredulous look he gave her. She wasn't a heartless person, but she certainly didn't need the added stress of whatever Oliver was implying.

"I'm aware, Hermione," he choked out, and that definitely set off Hermione's warning bells. What was happening with Marcus, and why wouldn't Oliver just come right out and say it? He continued on anyway, ignoring her sudden change in demeanor. "I'm not saying you need to get back with him, but I think that it wouldn't hurt if you checked in on him. Soon."

Shocked by his suggestion, Hermione tried to come up with an appropriate response. Unfortunately, before she could articulate that he ought to mind his own business, the wizard had turned away and disappeared into the crowd. Standing there awkwardly, Hermione contemplated what to do next. Should she run after him and demand a proper explanation or heed his words and pay Marcus a visit? In the end, she decided whatever was going on with Marcus was none of her business. Not anymore.

Later that afternoon, Hermione found herself wandering around in Flourish and Blotts in search of a few new books. It was an activity she was prone to these days, but it calmed her chaotic mind. For some reason she found herself feeling sad as she remembered that Marcus used to accompany her on these sort of trips. More often than not, he would even take on the burden of carrying the large stack of books she would be considering.

The memory brought a smile to her face despite the rush of regret that was threatening to ruin her day. Enough was enough, she thought as she shook her head, wild curls falling away from her face as she did so. This was Oliver's fault, his worried request from earlier obviously still weighing heavily on her mind. She didn't have the extra time or energy to worry about Marcus. He'd had his chance to be with her and laughed it off.

And yet…

And yet, a part of Hermione wondered if that had been a mistake, a misconception on her part. After all, it was Marcus who'd wanted to move in together in the first place. It was also Marcus who insisted on taking that trip to Paris where he'd told her he'd loved her for the first time. Pausing, Hermione looked away from the bookshelf she was perusing to glance around the busy shop. She'd had the odd sense that she was being watched.

Frowning, Hermione craned her neck around a group of witches because, for a split second, she could have sworn she'd seen Marcus. As the wizard in question rounded the corner, she saw she was mistaken and averted her gaze. Great, she scolded herself, now she was seeing things. It was then that she decided calling it an early evening might be for the best. Setting aside the few books she'd gathered initially, Hermione made her way out of the shop and back into the rain without purchasing a single tome.

Ignoring the people around her, Hermione walked briskly through Diagon Alley and into the deserted streets of Muggle London. There, she stopped, unsure of where to go next. Ideally, she should find a quiet place to apparate to her flat, have a simple dinner, and then go to sleep. Another part of her, the curious and worried part, quietly suggested that she should pay Marcus a surprise visit, if only to ensure he was alright. Oliver had seemed so worried about his best friend, and that left an antsy feeling inside of Hermione.

So despite her initial trepidations, Hermione threw out her wand and summoned the Knight Bus. As it came barreling down the small road, Hermione tried to come up with a reason to change her mind. When the purple multi-decker bus screeched to a halt in front of her and the door was opened, she'd still not come to a proper decision and hurriedly scurried up the stairs. She had no idea what was happening to her, but somehow, she'd mumbled the address to Marcus's flat and paid the fee before taking a seat on the nearest bench.

Despite not knowing what had come over her, she did know one thing. She didn't want to go on like this forever. If anything, she would visit Marcus and find out, once and for all, what had gone wrong between the two of them. Then, and only then, could she have the closure she so desperately needed. Not waiting another minute, the Knight Bus rocketed into the night, taking Hermione to Marcus and whatever fate had in store for the both of them.

The flat was quiet as she let herself in, the numerous times she'd knocked on the old oak door going unanswered. Hermione was thankful that she hadn't returned the key to Marcus before moving out. It was odd for him not to answer the door which caused her worry to increase tenfold. Taking a deep breath, Hermione carried on.

"Hello?" She called out, dropping her bag by the door as she waited for an answer. When still there was nothing, Hermione began to move further into the darkened flat, heading towards the back area where she knew the bedroom to be. "Marcus? Are you here?"

There was a rustling sound as if someone was moving about in the bed. Picking up her pace, she hurried through the open doorway and into the bedroom. Her breath caught at the sight before her, Marcus sprawled haphazardly across the bed in a state of undress and duress. His hair was matted from being uncombed after a shower and he appeared completely unaware of his surroundings.

He was high.

As the reality of that sunk in, Hermione suddenly understood Oliver's warning from earlier. The Marcus before her had reverted to his old ways in her absence. If he hadn't cared about her like she'd assumed, he would be fine right now. But this… This obviously indicated otherwise. This proved that she'd been far too quick to judge him and his motives in Paris. What a right mess…

"Marcus? Can you hear me?" She asked before stepping closer to the bed. Wetting her lips in uneasiness, she waited for an answer, praying that he wasn't too far gone. If she lost him...that would be the end. She would never forgive herself. Relief flooded her as his eyes blinked open and attempted to focus on her from across the room.

"Hermione?" Marcus slurred, attempting to sit up on the bed. His body was too weak, the opioid potions and alcohol he'd consumed afterward hindering his ability to be fully functional. Allowing himself to flop backward into the messy bed, he asked, "Is it really you?"

"Yes…" Hermione answered quietly, the horror of the situation making her blood run cold. Marcus looked near death, the white quilt and sheets bespeckled with his blood; but that was nothing compared to the dead look in his eyes. His beautiful grey eyes were bloodshot and his pupils dilated. Quickly, she rushed to sit on the edge of the bed and took hold of his hand. "It's me. I'm here."

"I've missed you… I'm so sorry you have to see me like this. I thought I was past my addiction, but clearly I was wrong," Marcus explained as he indicated his current state of being with his free hand. "I thought you were never going to come back home, and I couldn't bear the thought of living without you. The opioid potions...they make the pain easier to handle."

"Oh, Merlin…. Marcus, I-I love you so much. I'm sorry that I left," she gushed, smoothing the hair from his forehead. Blinking the tears from her eyes, she leaned over to press a chaste kiss to his lips. "We both made mistakes, but I'm here now. We can make this right… I'll help you get better. I promise, with all of my heart."

"I love you too, Hermione… Do you know how long I waited to hear you say those words," he told her, licking his lips and tasting the remnants of her kiss. "After Paris… I thought I'd never see you again."

"I was wrong… I thought you weren't ready to take the next step," Hermione admitted, feeling herself flush in embarrassment. She'd been too rash in assuming Marcus wasn't willing to commit himself to her entirely.

"I was more than ready. Please, if you stay, I can show you just how willing I am to be the man you deserve." He was practically begging, but he felt himself slipping into sleep, and he was afraid he may never have a chance to get the words out again. She might be gone come the morning...a distant memory. A Dream.

"You've always deserved my love, Marcus, don't ever think otherwise." It made Hermione's heart ache to think he felt unworthy of her love. Good Godric, right now it felt more like she was the one unworthy of his love. "We're going to get through this. Together. Do you understand?"

Struggling to open his eyes, he locked his gaze with Hermione's and found nothing but the truth reflecting in her eyes. Already he could feel the weight of the past eight months lifting away from his shoulders. His hand found her cheek, thumb brushing back and forth over her tear-stained skin. She was beautiful, and she was here… She was his and she loved him.

"So you'll stay with me?"

He had to know for certain… He had to be sure.

"I'm not going anywhere, Marcus. I'm home."