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Goodbye to Sleep

The smell of smoke met his nostrils. This wasn't the first time he awoke in a place he had no recollection of entering. This often happened after the hangover hit and his high was gone. His head was in a daze but he knew it would wear off soon, it usually did. He rose from the crummy sheets in a motel he didn't remember, but he didn't care. He saw the lit cigarette in the ash tray and heard the rustling from the bathroom.

He pulled himself out of the tangled sheets and pulled on his pants. The girl he had picked up the night before was just as bad off as him, if not worse. He peeked through the crack of the bathroom door and saw her inhaling a substance he had probably used last night, only he had injected it directly into his veins. He pulled on the long sleeved black shirt and put on the black sun-glasses to hide his bloodshot eyes. His hand shook with the need of a drug he had yet to buy.

He sighed, he was getting worse, at least worse than before. He had tremors from the on set of withdrawal before, but they had never been as bad as they were now. So bad, that he needed something the minute he left the motel without a word to the girl he had screwed but didn't know.

Goodbye to sleep

He lit a cigarette and inhaled the ashy smoke. The shaking stopped, but it wouldn't cease for long. His usually sleek blonde hair was a mess. He didn't care, he never cared.

It had been this way after the war, after she had left, after everything was shot to hell. She had gotten married, the last he heard of her. His father had gone to prison, his mother killed by Voldemort, his friends following their fearless leader into battle and dying in the process. He had helped put an end to it, but it didn't matter now.

Since Hermione had left, nothing mattered to Draco.

I think this staying up is exactly what I need
Take apart your head
Take apart the counting,
and the flock it has bred.

He stopped in front of his usual dealer and paid for the Heroine he needed to keep himself alive. To keep himself from thinking about the darkness and to stop himself from trying it again. From trying to end his life.

Draco pocketed the precious powder and walked down the cold sidewalk to his apartment. He entered the broken down dump and locked the door tightly behind him. He didn't need any visitors. He pulled off his shirt and his sun glasses, then dug around for the usual things he needed. He had them, he just needed to find them.

He found the syringe and the rubber tube, both dirty and used multiple times, but only by himself. He wasn't stupid, he knew what was in the world and that no amount of magic could heal the disease. He only used his own needle and he never shared. He was desperate and he was broken, but he wasn't ready to die for his addiction.

He saw the various news paper clippings pinned to the wall. There she was, on her wedding day, smiling with happiness and bliss. He was glad he hadn't gone. He ripped the paper off the wall and threw it on to the floor. He passed a mirror and saw his deteriorating reflection. He was paler than he had ever been and now he looked like a ghost. His eyes her continually blood shot and cracking. He looked tired and emaciated, skinnier than he used to be, but he had still retained some muscle.

His hand trembled and he remembered what he needed. The small plastic bag held in his hand, reminded him once more. He sat down on his bed and tied the rubber tube to his upper arm. He burned the powder down to the liquid and filled the syringe with the substance. He put the needle into his vein and injected the heroine. He pulled off the tube and set down the needle, waiting for the drug to take effect.

It didn't take long and soon he was on his high and happier than he could have been without it. He smiled and shut his eyes, enjoying the feeling of flying once again, the feeling that he had whenever he had played Quidditch or had simply flown his broom around. He laid down on his bed and reveled in the feeling, sinking slowly into the depths of his fantasy.

you're brought back but you're running
I'll find sleep in the end tonight
I can't shake this little feeling
I'll never get anything right

Harry walked down the street towards Draco's apartment. They had become friends since the war had ended. Draco had become on good terms with everyone, including Ron and his family. No one had heard from him since the war had ended, no one except Harry who had become almost like a brother to Draco.

Harry was the only one who knew about Draco's addiction. He was also the only one who was trying to stop it. He hadn't spoken to Draco in two days and he knew something had happened; Draco had gone someplace and done enough drugs to escape for the two days he was gone.

Harry knocked on the door once, but he knew Draco probably wouldn't answer.

"Go away," Draco said, his voice cracked and broken; he was high.

Harry kicked down the door, rather than using magic. They were in a muggle apartment building and kicking down the door was enough.

Draco laughed when Harry walked in.

"Potter's come to take Draco away," Draco laughed at his own words.

"God dammit," Harry muttered to himself grabbing Draco by the hair and pulling him into the bathroom. He filled the sink with cold water and shoved Draco's face into it. Harry let go after a few dunks and Draco stumbled back, the high wearing off.

"What the fuck, Harry?" Draco asked, wiping his face off of the cold water.

"You know what!" Harry shouted and threw Draco a clean shirt and jacket. "Let's go!"

Goodbye, you liar
Well, you sipped from the cup
But you don't own up to anything
Then you think you will inspire
Take apart your head (I wish I could inspire)
Take apart the demon, in the attic, to the bed.

Draco pulled the long-sleeved shirt over his head and covered the needle marks in his arm. He pulled the jacket on and followed Harry out the door, or rather, Harry followed him and made sure Draco left the apartment.

They walked down the steps and into a parked car Harry had outside the building. Draco sat in the passenger seat and put on the sun glasses he had grown accustomed to wearing.

"What happened to your job?" Harry asked after a few minutes of driving.

"I was fired," Draco said carelessly, tapping his hand a few times on the window.

"You never showed up," Harry said and Draco laughed confirming the almost question to Harry.

"Where the fuck are we going?" Draco asked, his irritation growing.

"You'll see," Harry said continuing to drive. Draco had slowly become increasingly worried as the silence grew on. He hoped they weren't going to a rehab clinic, that was the last thing he needed. He didn't want to be cured, he didn't want to learn to accept everything, he wanted to die. Quickly.

(Goodbye my love)
You're brought back but you're running
(Goodbye my love)
I'll find sleep in the end tonight
(Goodbye my love)
I can't shake this little feeling
(Goodbye my love)
I never say anything right (I'm on my own)
I never say anything right (I'm on my own)
I never say anything right (I'm on my own)
I never say anything right...right...right (I'm on my own)

About an hour later the car pulled into the driveway of a suburban home off of a dirt road. It was secluded in the woods with grass surrounding the house. It was a house that, Draco knew, no muggle could see. It wasn't huge like Malfoy Manor, but it wasn't incredibly small either. It was just right and Draco was sure he knew the person living there.

Harry helped Draco out of the car and into the house. Draco had a few stumbles and he shook with a tremor from the need for drugs.

Harry opened the door and allowed Ron to take Draco upstairs. They put him in the new bedroom that was to be his and they shut the door.

Draco's hand twitched and spasmed with the need for more substance and Draco felt the cold sweat begin. His body was aching for more and more of the drug he had chosen, the life he had been living; he needed it.

Well take me, take me back to your bed
I love you so much that it hurts my head
Say I don't mind you under my skin
I'll let the bad parts in, the bad parts in
When we were made we were set apart
Life is a test and I get bad marks
Now some saint got the job of writing down my sins
The storm is coming, the storm is coming in

Draco shook and trembled with the pain of the beginnings of withdrawal. He threw himself in the corner and tucked his head into his hands. This was it, this would be how he was going to die. Alone in a corner with the pain of his past. Draco felt the salty tears begin to fall as he remembered what had led to this.

He had asked Hermione to marry him shortly after the war. He let her have a few days to think, to process everything, but in the end she had refused. She wasn't ready to marry him.

"I'm not ready to get married, Draco. I'm sorry." And she had left him that day, never to call or write.

About a month later, however, Draco received an owl inviting him to Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger's wedding. That was the first time he had ever gone on a drinking binge and that night he ended up with the first of many women in his bed. The next night he partied a little harder and tried the first of a long line of substances that would inevitably throw him into a world he would become accustomed to. That world would throw him into the corner of a room in a house he didn't want to be in.

Draco remembered seeing her for the first time in weeks, when she had come over to his apartment to find out if he would be at the wedding. It was the night before her wedding and he was to say the least irritable about his lack of money for drugs. He had entered the first week of unwilling withdrawal. Sick and angry, Draco had to talk to the woman who had singlehandedly thrown him into the life that he was living.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He had asked bitterly of her.

"You know why," Hermione had returned with equal bitterness.

"I'm not coming so you can forget it," Draco said quietly with a fresh hoarseness to his voice.

"I don't give a shit that you're not coming. You're killing yourself, Draco!" She shouted at him, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

"At least it's fun." He smirked and her eyes narrowed.

"I'm sorry I hurt you, but I love Ron and I can't make myself believe something I know isn't true." She turned away from him to leave.

"Are you sure you can't make yourself believe a lie?" She turned around at his question.

"What?" She asked, her voice breathless and tears falling from her eyes.

"Do you love me?" He asked sincerely.

You're brought back but you're running
I'll find sleep in the end tonight
I can't shake this little feeling
I'll never get anything right

She looked at him for a few minutes before she gave her reply. "I don't love you." With that, she walked out the door and out of his life.

Draco realized now, he shouldn't have let her walk away.

A week passed and withdrawal hit Draco hard and fast. He sweat day in and day out. He shook, he threw up, and he felt like he was dying. This was far worse than anything he had ever done to himself, including trying to hang himself in the bathroom the day after Hermione had left.

He was lucky Harry had stopped by for an unexpected visit and found him swinging. Draco was fine, kept in a twenty four hour lockup in the hospital, but he was fine.

After the week of hell, he felt a little better. He still hurt, but he was getting better. Then, she paid him a visit and it was clear she didn't live in this house. This was Harry and Ginny's house and Ron was staying with them. Occasionally Draco would be visited by a small Potter boy. He walked, but barely, and he was usually following Ginny. She would hold the small baby and the boy would hold onto her pant leg.

The older one had dark hair, named James, and he was two. The younger, red head, named Lily, wasn't even one yet. Draco normally kept to himself during his initial stay. Often, he spent his time in his room; he wasn't allowed to leave the house.

I'm on my own, never get anything right
I'm on my own, never get anything right
I'm on my own.

She walked into his room, late one afternoon. The sun was setting in his window and for a second, Draco thought he was having a hallucination from withdrawal.

"Hi," She greeted him and he knew he wasn't hallucinating.

"Hey," He returned with a small smile at her presence. Suddenly, the withdrawal felt a bit easier.

"So you're better?" Hermione asked, and he nodded in confirmation. She sat down on the end of his bed, as silence crept over the room.

Draco looked at her hand and saw no ring. He stood up from the bed and leaned against the wall. "So, you're not married anymore?"

"Didn't work out," She whispered to the silence with a small smile. "We're still friends, though."

"Just not as close," Draco said and Hermione nodded. He shifted his standing position and began to talk, "If you don't mind my asking, why didn't it work out?"

"I realized I was lying to myself and well, I can't live a lie," She told him with a smile and she cast her eyes downward.

Take me, take me back to your bed
I love you so much that it hurts my head
I don't mind you under my skin
I'll let the bad parts in, the bad parts in

Moments passed before Hermione finally said something. "I'll see you tomorrow." She turned around to leave.

"Wait, I mean, do you want to stay? Because you could." Draco stood straight and Hermione seemed to think over the offer.

"I'll see you tomorrow," She repeated, not ready to kick things off where it began.

Well you're my favorite bird and when you sing
I really do wish you'd wear my ring
No matter what they say, I am still the king
And now the storm is coming, the storm is coming in

"Promise?" Draco asked, worried this was the last time he would see her.

"I promise," She told him and she walked over to him. She left him with a light kiss on his cheek that let Draco know things would be alright.

He went to bed that night, happy for the first time in almost two years.

The End

Degausser - Brand New - The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me