A Fine Line

Warnings: H/D Slash, substance abuse

Disclaimer: These aren't my characters, but they feel like friends. JKR owns them, I just love them.

Chapter Four

Harry came down a few minutes later, dressed in sweatpants and a red t-shirt and jacket, feeling in need of a run to clear his head. He picked up his wand and tucked it into the waistband of his gray sweatpants, and reached for his wallet but it wasn't on the table by his keys. He hunted for it for a few minutes before spying it way under the side table and fishing it out. That's funny, he thought, looking inside and seeing only his ID and Gringotts card, I thought I had some money last night. Oh, well, maybe it fell out inside my locker at work... He shrugged, and thought, no big deal, and stuck it in his jacket pocket with his keys.

The breeze was brisk this morning, and he took a hair tie from around his wrist and held it in his teeth as he gathered his hair back, and then pulled it together with the band. He worked through his stretches to relieve some of the tight frustration he felt, putting one foot on the porch railing, then the other, finally bending over and touching his forehead to his knees, wrapping his arms tightly around his legs. He took off slowly, toward Hermione's, even though he knew she would be at work. The rhythmic crunch of his trainers on the gravelly path was soothing.

The trail took him past Ginny's house, he saw her playing in the garden with two chubby red-haired children who were just learning to run. She had married a wizard that worked with her father, and they had lived in Wothingham upon Sea nearly as long as Harry and Draco. Everyone knew Ginny would have twins, he thought, watching them play. Their sturdy legs carried them in all directions, and Ginny looked like a child herself as she chased them in circles, her yellow skirts and red hair flying in the breeze. She paused a moment to wave merrily to Harry, and he waved back, laughing as she pulled them down into the grass for a romping embrace.

He jogged past the park in the center of the village, with its little fountain, and saw several children playing hopscotch on the sidewalk. He grinned at them and hopped through their pattern, picking up the stone marker and hopping back. He handed it to a little girl with plaits in her blonde hair, and jogged backwards a few steps, waving his thanks. They waved back, giggling at the black-haired grownup man who had jumped the hopscotch grid.

He continued toward the edge of town, prepared to pass Hermione's house and circle around toward the lake, when he saw a flash of pink in her garden. He stopped at her picket fence, and called out, "Hermione?" Her head poked back around the corner, and she smiled at him.

"Oh, you're a mess, Harry...all sweaty and gross," she teased, waving at him with her garden trowel. "I'm playing hooky, setting some new plants, want to come around for a drink? I've got lemon crush..." She walked toward him, her feet bare in the grass. He could see she still wore the gold toe ring that Ron had given her as a joke one Valentine's Day.

He shook his head, walking in a circle. "I don't want to cool off too much, I'll get a cramp," he said. "I'm just out for a run, clearing my head, I guess. I...something's really up with Draco, I think." He stopped and put his hands on his knees, bending over to catch his breath as she came over and leaned on the gate. "I was really excited last night about my patient, she finally woke up and she remembered my voice, remembered me talking to her. I tried to tell him about it, and he just blew me off. He had tons of work spread out, but I think it's more than that going on." He pushed a lock of dark hair back, and wiped his damp forehead with the back of his hand, standing up again.

Hermione wiped her forehead with the back of her muddy gardening glove in the same gesture, but her hand left behind a smear of dirt. Harry smiled at that, then leaned down and briefly touched his palms on the ground. "He was really restless, said he was hot, then he was cold. He came to wake me later from the couch, and when we got to bed he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. He had a horrible nosebleed in the night too."

Hermione frowned in concern, a fine line marring her muddy forehead. "A nosebleed? That's strange. Stress doesn't do that."

"Well... he said he thought he had a cold, and said he felt feverish," said Harry, thoughtfully. "I guess if your nose is that dry you could get a nosebleed, but this was a real gusher. Took a while to stop it, you know? The funny thing was, he had another this morning." Harry shook his head, slowly. "I suppose it's not that funny, really."

Hermione agreed. "He should see one of the healers in the clinic, just to make sure he's okay."

Harry considered telling her about the shower this morning, then decided that was just too embarrassing to share. Draco being a tease was definitely something she would find squicky; she had expressed early on in their relationship her support for both of them, and her desire to never hear of the 'mechanics' of their interactions. Harry leaned against the gate and kissed her on the cheek. "Go plant your flowers, love. I'm sure it's just like you said, stress and maybe a cold...I worry too much." He picked a pink azalea from the bush by the fence and tucked it behind her ear. "Love you!" he called as he started to run toward the lake. She waved from the fence, but her look of concern remained.

.&.

He arrived home exhausted and sweaty, and headed straight for the shower. He remained until the hot water had gone, leaning against the tile wall and allowing the spray to needle his tired back and legs. He turned off the taps and reached for a clean towel, sighing as he saw a small heap of clothing and damp towels on the floor that he hadn't noticed earlier. Draco has never learnt what the laundry basket is for...I guess I'm the wife. He chuckled at this thought, and wrapping his towel around his waist, bent to pick up the discarded items.

He hummed as he turned shirt sleeves right-side-out and put items in the basket. As he picked up the trousers he noticed something bulky in the pocket, and slipped his hand gingerly inside, remembering the pink mirror. Probably keys or a pen, he thought. His fingers closed on a smooth something, and he drew it out in his fist. He dropped the trousers in the basket, and opened his fingers, revealing a tiny crystal vial in the palm of his hand. It was tightly stoppered, but through the glass he could see that it had contained something white. He held it up and looked through its cloudy sides. What in the name of heaven?

Harry pulled on his bathrobe and toweled through his hair, leaving it loose, dratted headache, then went down to the living room to sit in his favorite squishy armchair. He removed the vial's stopper and tried to dump it into his hand, but was not able to pour any of the contents out. He was unwilling to smell or taste the mysterious contents. He hated himself for feeling so suspicious, but thought, I wonder if this has anything to do with how Draco has been behaving lately.

As much as he hated to admit it, he knew that there was only one person who would be able to identify the contents of the little bottle, and that person was Severus. But, he thought, Severus is Draco's godfather. How can I have him do this? He took the Floo pot down and knelt at the hearth, and thought, This is the only way to find out what this is. If it's something bad, I need to know. If not, well, I'll say I found it on a patient, and Draco won't be suspected at all.

He tossed a pinch of green powder into the fireplace, called out Severus' address, and waited, kneeling on the cold stone.

Severus' head appeared in the fire. "What is it, Potter? I'm extremely busy at the moment," he snapped, with a familiar sneer.

"I'm sorry to bother you," Harry apologized, feeling irritated at Snape's attitude. "I need... I mean...if you have a few minutes, I have something that I can't identify. It belongs to a patient, but they didn't want me to have it checked at the clinic, for privacy, you know. Do you think you could have a look?" He bit his lower lip, hoping that Severus would just say yes and do it quickly.

"I suppose this is a priority for you?" he asked, sarcastically. "Please, let me just drop everything." He regarded Harry's expression briefly, and then seemed to change his mind. "Oh, Merlin. Just pass it through," he sighed.

Harry picked up the fire tongs and pinched the vial tightly, then passed it through the green flame to Severus' hand. "I really appreciate this, Severus."

"Of course you do. Stay there." Severus got up with the tiny vial and moved out of sight. Harry was left looking at the end of Snape's sofa, which was starting to get a little shabby, he noticed. He shifted slightly to relieve his sore knees. Severus came back into view a few moments later with a small fireplace scoop, and passed the vial back through to Harry. He took it and the piece of parchment that was under it. "That vial has residue of a popular Muggle drug in it, called cocaine. Your patient is fond of the illicit, Potter. It is used by inhaling, and it causes a brief but extremely pleasurable high. I've listed some of the other effects on the parchment. I also put my mobile number there. Store it for next time you need me, I hate the Floo." With that, there was a small pop and Severus disappeared from the flames, leaving Harry kneeling in the empty fireplace.

He turned to sit on the rough stone hearth with the vial and the parchment, and looked at the list in Severus' thin spiky writing. He was astonished to see that the symptoms included tremors, as well as agitation, nervousness, changes in sexual appetite, hallucinations, itching, and nosebleeds.

"Cocaine," Harry whispered, looking again at the tiny vial. "What were you thinking, Draco?"

.&.

Harry had spent the rest of the day in a state of stunned exhaustion. He had cried briefly, screamed several times, and eaten nothing. Now, physically and emotionally drained, he sat silently in the darkened kitchen with a mug of tea, waiting for Draco to get home. It had long since gone cold, but he continued to stir it anyway. He picked up the crystal vial from the kitchen table as he heard the wards drop from the door. He glanced at the clock. Half past ten, he realized. Draco walked into the kitchen, lit the lamp, and put his case and keys on the sideboard, smiling when he saw Harry. "What a brilliant day! We've just about finished Father's case." He approached Harry and bent to kiss him, but Harry turned his face away. He wordlessly held the vial out to Draco in his open palm.

"Where did you get that?" Draco asked, his eyes widening slightly.

"I was picking up your trousers in the bathroom and I found this in the pocket. I had Severus check it out. He told me that it had cocaine in it."

Draco sighed, and nodded. "Yes, it did."

"Is it yours?" Draco just looked at the floor in response.

"How long have you been using this, Draco? Don't you know what this crap can do to you?" Harry threw the vial, which shattered against the kitchen door. "This shit can kill you, Draco. I thought you were smarter than this."

"It's nothing I can't handle, Harry. You don't know anything about it." Draco's eyes were steely, his jaw set in a firm line, as he added, "Just leave it."

"Leave it? LEAVE IT?" Harry was shouting now, his anger rising, dragon-hot. "Were you using it the night you woke me up and I attacked you?" Draco glared at him. "You were! That's why you treated me the way you did. I believed you when you said you were just randy. You were high. What a fucking liar you are."

Crack! Harry's head rocked back with the force of the blow. His glasses skittered across the kitchen floor. Draco had backhanded him, nearly knocking him over in the chair. He was on his feet instantly, his wand out, and his hand went to his face and came away bloody. "You hit me," he said, wonderingly, "you unbelievable bastard." His hand dropped to his side, holding his wand loosely. "What on earth has happened to you?"

Draco backed away toward the wall, his wand out as well. "Harry...oh, fuck. Harry, I'm..." He was shaking his head, his hair coming loose from its tie, and leaned against the wall. "I only meant to use it once. Sophia gave it to me one night when I just couldn't concentrate, couldn't keep up. I had energy enough for my project afterwards, but, as soon as it wore off, I wanted more, and finally couldn't even get up for work without it." His eyes could not meet Harry's. He looked at his hands, the right one smeared with Harry's blood, and wiped it frantically on his trousers. "I'm so sorry that I hit you. I never meant to hurt you. You have to believe me." He looked up and his eyes pleaded with Harry to say something...anything.

"I do believe you," Harry said, slowly. "I just don't trust you right now." Harry found it easier not to look in Draco's direction. "I don't know why you thought you needed to start using drugs, Draco. I don't understand how it's supposed to help you. But, I do know what it does to you. It makes you lie, and steal. There was money missing from my wallet. You?" Draco nodded mutely, having the decency to flush bright pink. "It's turned you into someone else." He looked at Draco's blurred outline briefly as it slid to rest on the floor. "It's turned you into someone I don't even know." He got as far as the doorway, stopped at the threshold, and bent to pick up his glasses. Broken...just great, he thought, and jammed the pieces into his pocket. He raised his hand to his temple again, wiping the blood out of his eye, and wiped his hand absently on his jeans. "I love you, Draco, and if you want to quit, I'll help you. Hermione will help you. Severus will help you. But there's a fine line here that you're close to crossing." He picked up his keys and rested his head on the doorframe. "I'm really sorry, Draco, but I just can't stand to look at you right now. I'll be at Hermione's." He stepped through the door and Disapparated with a small pop, leaving Draco sitting on the floor, sobbing.

.&.

Harry Apparated directly to Hermione's front steps, and staggered, suddenly nauseated, against her front door. I shouldn't have Apparated like this, he thought. He swiped at his face again, wiping away the mingled blood and tears. He took a deep breath, knocked at the door, and waited. He heard Hermione's voice asking who was there, and he could barely answer, "It's Harry..."

Hermione pulled the door wide and moved to catch him as he lurched, pressing him against the doorframe so he wouldn't fall. "I didn't know where else to go," he whispered.

"Oh my gosh, Harry, of course you came here. What on earth...?" She looked at the blood on his face, frowning. "You must be mad, did you apparate like that?" He nodded weakly. She pulled his arm around her shoulders and guided him into the parlor, easing him into the overstuffed chair. "You shouldn't Apparate when you're hurt, Harry, you'll be sick. What happened to you? Let me get a towel." She stepped quickly toward the kitchen but Harry grabbed the sleeve of her dressing gown.

"Wait...call Severus, please. Tell him to go to our house right away." He handed Hermione his mobile phone and the scrap of parchment. "His number is on that. Tell him it's urgent...ask him please to go, for Draco." She went to the kitchen, dialing, and returned with the towel and pressed it to Harry's temple, lifting his shaking hand to hold it in place.

She spoke quickly to Severus, walking back into the kitchen. He heard her voice making the request, and then more murmuring that he could not hear. She then thanked him, hung up, and returned to Harry. "He's going there straight away." She put the phone on the coffee table and knelt down in front of him. "Now tell me, what happened? Did someone attack you? A break in?"

Harry shook his head slightly, as if to clear it, peppering his lap with droplets of blood. "Draco. I found out what's going on with Draco," he said. "He's been using drugs. Cocaine at least, I'm not sure if he's doing anything else. That was all I found." Hermione gasped as Harry went on. "I had Severus to identify a vial I found in Draco's trouser pocket, and he told me that it was cocaine residue in it. I confronted Draco when he came home this evening, and he wigged out. I guess I'm not surprised," he continued, wryly, "but I sure didn't think he would hit me. He doesn't usually see the 'point' of Muggle fighting. I'm surprised he didn't hex me instead."

Harry's phone rang, and Hermione looked questioningly at Harry, "Should I get it?" He nodded, shrugging, and she picked it up and said, "Harry's phone." She listened for a moment, and her eyes widened, her mouth a surprised O. "Oh, my gosh..." she whispered, paused, and then said, nodding, "He has a nasty cut, and is bleeding a lot. He Apparated here like that, he isn't feeling at all well just now." Another pause, then, "Yes, Harry told me...of course...I will. Okay, thanks so much, Severus." She folded the phone closed to lay it on the table. "He wants me to keep you here tonight, to rest. He's staying at your place." She turned her attention to his face. "What did Draco hit you with, Harry?"

He winced as she lifted the towel to check the bleeding. "Just his backhand, but I think it was his signet ring that..." He felt, rather than saw, the trickle of blood that ran down his face, and then saw it drip thickly onto his pants leg. She pressed the cloth back, firmly, and he moaned, his hand over his mouth. She summoned a basin from the kitchen just in time for him to vomit into it. She held the towel to his face and managed to scrape his hair back out of the way, supporting his head. He vomited again, gripping the basin, and then retched several times but nothing else seemed to be in his stomach. He leaned against her weakly, gasping, as she vanished the contents and sat the bowl down on the floor. "I'm sorry..." He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and grimaced.

"Don't be an idiot. There's nothing to be sorry for. Apparition after a head bump will make you chuck up every time." she replied, lifting the towel again to examine the cut. "This is really deep, Harry. Just let me heal it. Hold still..." She stood up, pointing her wand. "I'll get some ice to take down the swelling, too."

"I don't want you to," Harry said, and she stopped, surprised. "You can heal the cut, I'm tired of bleeding, but let it bruise. I want him to see it, and feel guilty as hell." He was embarrassed at how childish it sounded, but it was how he felt. "I don't want him to be able to look at me and forget what a bloody wanker he's become." He held his broken glasses out to Hermione and asked, sheepishly, "But do you think you could heal these while you're at it?"

.&.