Addicted

Addicted

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Withdrawal can be intoxicating in itself. I learned this lesson the hard way as I attempted to peel my need for you away from my id complex and trash that nasty little lustful desire in the far junk pile in my brain. It failed. The dark recesses of my brain could not mask those feelings, that insane emotion that whipped up my spine every moment your domineering gaze met mine. As those eyes washed over my skin, uncovering those memories I swore to myself I would bury. I cannot help but to allow my mind to drift back; the power you held over me felt amazing, addictive, every emotion I had longed to feel at a lover's touch but never had. That is, until you.

It's like you're a drug
It's like you're a demon I can't face down
It's like I'm stuck
It's like I'm running from you all the time
And I know I let you have all the power

Good little Hermione was never to have engaged in such sinful nightly activities.

But I did. I remember exactly how our nocturnal escapades turned into a nightly fix. One night, while on patrol, I found you. I was hurting from my recent falling out with friends, and you...I'm not sure exactly what you were looking for. A new conquest perhaps, or for an escape, like me. We were just drawn to each other. It was purely physical at first. We both wanted to forget our own pain. We became so wrapped up in the selfish desire that I found myself caring very little for the consequences. What Harry and Ron would have said if they found out--I became rather adept at fabricating little white lies to explain those few times they came across me sneaking through the portrait door. The number of excuses about having to use the loo or needing to retrieve a book from the library just poured so easily out of me. I suppose the bookworm credentials worked to my advantage (socially) for once.

The number of times Filch nearly caught us in classrooms became insurmountable. But I think the danger made those reckless moments all the more exciting. At least that's what you would whisper in your husky voice (the voice that now haunts my dreams) before distracting me once again with those fantastic lips of yours.

And the danger of being caught had more repercussions than silly detentions, deducting house points or losing my best friends. We both knew how the impending war forced us to confine our meetings to the shadows and the silence. We both sat on opposite sides of the line. Of course, we were quite vociferous about our clear dislike for the other's position in the corridors, classrooms and on countless other occasions. But we never spoke about our differences then. No, never during those nights. It's almost as if we forgot who we were during the day. We just became about that moment, caught up in the emotion, the feel, the intoxication.

But I should have known better. I should have expected that final night. I knew that living in a fantasy world never suits for long. I knew before I even crept into that room that those were the words that would come out of my mouth, being the sensible girl I was.

"It's over."

And of course you agreed. You knew the impending disasters on your own end from these escapades. Of course you agreed; it would have been foolish and stupid of you to disagree. Everyone knows you are never foolish or stupid. It's just not in your nature.

Now, I feel dead inside. There's no motivation to get through the day anymore, because you are not waiting for me at night. Harry and Ron no longer feel like the friends I once had--that was part of the reason I fell into you. Harry's become so withdrawn in his depression, intent on battling his demons without us. He won't even speak to me anymore. He hasn't since that summer after Sirius died.

Ron's returned to that insecure little boy, projecting his anger on everyone who crosses his path. I've felt the sting of his words too many times. Being in the same room as him has become a game of duck-and-cover, of treading softly to avoid incurring his sleeping, lethal temper. I grew so physically tired from the ceaseless fighting, from the hurtful words. Ron felt that since I knew every answer in the classroom that I should know how to fix our best friend as well. He blamed me for Harry's reclusive actions, for not instantly curing and bringing Harry back to us. The truth was that I had no idea how. There was no book that told you how to fix your best friend--who lost someone very important to him and who carries the heavy burden of facing Voldemort--so that he's himself again. I tried everything I could think of, I really did. But Harry maintained his reticence and would not allow me in. Even Dumbledore could not get him to talk. Harry turned away from everyone. So Ron blamed me.

One best friend hates me and the other ignores me. I know I should have just forgotten about them and found new friends. But I can't. Deep down, I still value their opinion, still care about how they perceive me. That's why I had to let you go.

And now it's killing me. My energy and zest for life has vanished. I stumble around under a cloud of pessimism, wondering just why I continue to attend class. My grades have even begun to slip. I can hear you laughing now. Me, the model Head Girl. Perfect Granger. I know; it's ironic and yet so befitting. Giving you up hurts too much. I feel what little resistance I have slipping.

It's like the only company I seek is misery all around
It's like you're a leech
Sucking the life from me
It's like I can't breathe
Without you inside of me
And I know I let you have all the power
And I realize I'm never gonna quit you over time

Everytime I spot you across the Great Hall, I just want to give in and begin the cycle once again. Watching you, holding court, ever the imperial wizard. I've often pondered what life would be like if I was on your side. If I gave up everything to have you. Would that be enough to make it so that I could hold you every night and sit beside you every day?

But I could never do that. I believe too much in the cause, and I am against everything for which your side stands. Our ideals of blood, magic and morality are complete antitheses. But sometimes, when I glance at a dejected Harry mechanically spooning his hot soup into his mouth and see Ron shoot me another hurtful glare, that sacrifice becomes more tangible, more plausible. Moments pass when I want the pain to end and this heavy weight on my chest to vanish.

I also have recently developed another side affect to my recent withdrawal. You plague my every thought, serving as a constant distraction. I sit at the Gryffindor table, staring blankly at my Arithmancy book, forcing myself to read the text. But all I can picture is your face. I close my eyes in attempt to clear my mind. The insatiable feel of your touch races back to me.

I'm so weak when it comes to you.

Vulnerable doesn't even begin to cover how easily I gave into you, over and over again. I lived through those days solely for the purpose of meeting you every night. It was like a constant fix. One I could never give up. Somehow, I did, though. Now, I'm suffering for that decision.

It's like I can't breathe
It's like I can't see anything
Nothing but you
I'm addicted to you
It's like I can't think
Without you interrupting me
In my thoughts
In my dreams
You've taken over me
It's like I'm not me
It's like I'm not me

I inhale sharply. You've matched my gaze once again, taunting me. Was it all a game to you? Apparently that's what our relationship has degraded into now. That smirk crept over your face. I want desperately to bash your beautiful face in and kiss you until the world ends at the same time.

How can one person, especially you, evoke so many diverse emotions at once? Irritation, annoyance, desire, want, need...Maybe that's part of the appeal. You're so different from what I am, from that which I've become accustomed, from everything I've ever known. I've always been intrigued by the complex, the complicated. That may be part of my problem.

I wonder, do you feel the hurt as much as I do? Is it possible you are suffering too, feel like a piece of you is missing, like you wish you had a Time Turner and could relive those moments we spent together over again? That you despise reality, the divisions it forces upon the world, the rules and regulations to which one must abide. Maybe you dream you were on my side, that you could join us and fight against him.

I watched as you gracefully stood from the Slytherin bench, the sight of your long limbs a painful reminder of how carefully you used to hold me. I watched you walk out the great doors, desperately wishing I could go with you.

"What are you bloody staring at?" Ron interrupted my thoughts.

"Nothing," I snapped back with equal venom.

Harry doesn't even bother to spare us a withering glance. His listless gaze remained glued to the red liquid, scooping the broth and then watching it slide back into the bowl.

"I saw you, staring over there. What are you looking at?" Ron questioned in an accusing tone.

"I wasn't."

I angrily slid my books into my satchel and exited the Great Hall. I glanced over my shoulder, back to the Gryffindor table. Ron's gaze burned holes in the tabletop and Harry was as before. I doubt either really cared I left.

I felt the tears begin to prick my eyes and hastily swiped at them. I promised myself I would never cry over them again. Tears never accomplish anything. I learned that long ago, at the end of our sixth year.

In the next moment, I felt a presence standing before me and someone gripped my chin. Then lips crashed onto mine. I hungrily responded, knowing damn well whom I was kissing. It was you. It could never be anyone but you. I felt the tears fall as I clung desperately to your embrace.

We paused for a moment, staring into one another's eyes. You reached up with one hand, taking your soft thumb and brushing away my teardrops.

"I've never evoked that response before," you drawled, still holding me close.

"It wasn't you."

"Your best friends still ignoring you?" you asked, spitting out the words "best friends" like they tasted horribly.

"Harry is. I wish Ron would. I can't take his insinuations anymore. He acts as if it's entirely my fault..."

"Weasley never did have half a brain," you chuckled.

I just stared back sadly, pulling myself away. My personal vow just then struck me, reminding me how I'm not supposed to be doing this. How I'm not supposed to be giving in.

"What's wrong?" you whispered.

"You. We can't do this. You said so yourself."

You jerked your hand through your silky blond hair in frustration. I cured my fingers into my palm, stopping the urge to touch your tantalizing locks.

"I know I did," you said in agitation. "But I can't stop thinking about you."

"What?" I breathed, my heart rising into my throat. Does he...? Could he possibly...?

"I need you," you whispered, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me close.

The temptation surged. I couldn't. I knew I couldn't. But I felt alive again. I actually could feel, as opposed to my previous days of chronic numbness. I could sense my resolve starting to break, and I pushed you away.

"No," my voice cracked. You're the enemy. That's what I have to remember. Enemy.

"Please," you plead, reaching your hand out to me. "I'm willing to forget it all, just to have you again."

"There's no forgetting," I said as calmly as I could. "We're enemies. We can't play pretend anymore. Voldemort will be knocking at the entrance gate any day now. You'll be called to his side. And I'll be fighting you, alongside Harry, Ron, Dumbledore and the Order."

It's like I'm lost
It's like I'm giving up slowly
It's like you're a ghost that's haunting me
Leave me alone
And I know these voices in my head
Are mine alone
And I know I'll never change my ways
If I don't give you up now

You looked as if I slapped you. You stepped back, and I watched your fingers rub the spot on your forearm through your sleeve. Enemy. I remember now. You have The Mark. I sidestepped you and ran towards Gryffindor tower.

As I ran, salty water blurred my vision. Damn. I was doing it again. Crying.

I mumbled the password to the Fat Lady and rushed inside, as if you were behind me. As if you would ever chase after me.

"Hermione?"

I looked up to see Ginny sitting on the couch. Her countenance betrayed the depressions she's gone through as well. I'd forgotten how much this situation has affected her as well.

"Hi, Gin," I said weakly, sitting beside her. Poor girl. Harry broke her heart when he turned away from her. They were so close to becoming a couple when he gave up. Her own brother ignores her daily, too, and I've become such a horrible friend. She placed a hand on my arm.

"Are you alright?"

I laughed sardonically. "Not one of us is alright. We're all depressed, withdrawn, on edge, angry...But what about you, Ginny. How are you feeling?"

"Honestly?" She sighed. "Like the entire world has turned against me."

"Me as well," I whispered, my mind drifting back to the incident in the corridor. How could I have let that happen?

"Hermione, you look like you've seen a Dementor. What's wrong?"

I stared blankly at Ginny. You face appeared in my vision at that moment. Suddenly, I was unable to remember my previous thoughts and I felt that craving raging beneath my skin.

"I think I need to sleep," I mumbled, pulling myself up from the sofa and dragged my suddenly tingling body--and my satchel--up the steps to the seventh year girl's dormitories.

I fell onto my bed, and drew the curtains about me, not bothering to change into my pajamas. I prayed for sleep to come swiftly.

But only dreams did. Dreams filled with you.

It's like I can't breathe
It's like I can't see anything
Nothing but you
I'm addicted to you
It's like I can't think
Without you interrupting me
In my thoughts
In my dreams
You've taken over me
It's like I'm not me
It's like I'm not me

I tossed and turned, the dreams tormenting me. Your lips, I could feel them trail over my skin. I could feel the heat rise within my body and I cried for more. You captured my lips as your hands wandered, and wandered. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one arm reach over to the nightstand. You raised your arm, and I caught a glint if steel. You plunged the knife into my stomach, and twisted it.

"Fooled you, Mudblood," you whispered malevolently in my ear.

I awoke in a start, sitting up instantly. I heard Parvati's gentle snore and realized it must have been very late at night, for she and Lavender never retire until after eleven. I pushed back my curtains and looked at my bedside clock. 12:15 PM. I lay back down, but sleep wouldn't come. The nightmare was too fresh, too imitative of a possible reality. That's what I've always feared. Betrayal.

I know you're truly capable of killing. You're one of them, so that goes without assuming. But I still believe, somewhere in my heart, that you would never hurt me.

I decided that a moonlight stroll might help, and carefully crept put of my dorm, down the stairs, across the common room and out the portrait door. Those many nightly escapades made me quite the deft sneak.

I managed to slink outside the castle's walls, into the chilly night air. I felt grateful that I fell asleep in my robes. The solitude on the stone pathway acted as a juxtaposition of comforting and terrifying. I desperately needed a quiet reflection to regain my composure and sort through the dream, yet at the same time I craved the comfort of your arms.

Crunch.

I spun around, wand drawn and demanded, "Who's there? Show yourself!"

A figure stepped into the moonlight, and the light beams sprawled across your blonde head. Your smile reached me, and I lowered my wand only slightly, the implications of my nightmare still hanging with me.

You stepped forward, arms out and empty, to prove you meant no harm. I quickly pocketed my wand and cautiously stepped forward. Your steel gaze caught mine and my breathing stopped momentarily. I recognized the need, desire and want reflected in those depths and felt my resolve weaken again. Quicker than a Snitch, I found myself wrapped in your arms again, bodies pressed closely and staring face to face, foreheads resting upon one another.

"Hermione..." you whispered, running your fingers through my tangled mass of hair.

"Draco," I breathed, succumbing again. It only takes your saying my name to make me give in.

My lips crashed on yours and I fell into the whirlwind of color, passion, need, desire, lust and so much more that I've come to known in these past months. I already felt stronger and more stable knowing exactly where this embrace and those kisses were heading...But I found the consequences felt far from the now. I quelled my spazzing conscience with a quiet, "One last time, I promise."

I'm hooked on you
I need a fix
I can't take it
Just one more hit
I promise I can deal with it
I'll handle it, quit it
Just one more time
Then that's it
Just a little bit more to get me through this

You pushed me against the castle wall and I instinctively slung my legs around your waist, pressing closer to you. Between heated kisses you panted, "Not here." You carried me back inside the castle and haphazardly found an empty classroom. We momentarily parted so that you could place the proper locking and silencing spells, as I cast my own particular spell, then we fell right back into where we left off.

I'm hooked on you
I need a fix
I can't take it
Just one more hit
I promise I can deal with it
I'll handle it, quit it
Just one more time
Then that's it
Just a little bit more to get me through this

I lie beside you now, atop a classroom rug and amidst our scattered clothes, watching your peaceful face as you sleep. I realize I've come to terms with this addiction, and that I have no inkling how to resolve it. But, surprisingly, in that moment, while I stroke your soft locks and feel the heat of your body next to mine, I find I can live with that fact.

Consequences, be damned. That's all I can think for now.

I feel your arm curl around my waist and pull me closer. I smile and gently shake you awake, as per our habit. You've been asleep for a few hours now. My watch indicates that sunrise will be in an hour, and the necessity of returning to our commons undetected has arrived once again.

I can sense your darkening mood as you and I redress, but it's inevitable, like everything else. As I redo the last button on my blouse, you grab me and deliver another searing kiss.

"Why?" you whisper. "Why did you come back? What about before?"

I smile.

"For the moment, I don't care."

"But why?"

I chuckled, pulling you close and kissing your wonderful lips again.

"Because I'm addicted."

It's like I can't breathe
It's like I can't see anything
Nothing but you
I'm addicted to you
It's like I can't think
Without you interrupting me
In my thoughts
In my dreams
You've taken over me
It's like I'm not me
It's like I'm not me

END