Drug of Choice

Chapter 6

The Zabini Philosophy

Good advice is always certain to be ignored, but that's no reason not to give it.

- Agatha Christie

The morning after his date with Ginny, Draco found Blaise sitting at the kitchen bar with a cup of coffee. This sight shocked Draco; he didn't think Blaise actually knew how to work the coffee machine.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked as he made his way to his lovely coffee pot.

"Attempting to wake up enough to tell you what 'the love of your life,' how she described herself, said last night when you were away on your date with, and I quote, 'that little bitch'." Blaise added finger quotations for dramatics.

Draco nodded as he took a sip of his coffee. "So, you had a good night, I take it?"

Blaise gave Draco his best 'fuck you' smile before getting up and placing his empty cup in the sink.

"That bloody woman ranted about you for half an hour before I cast a Confundus charm on her and she left. If she gets a hold of you, I think she'll kill you."

"Then hopefully, our meeting can be delayed as long as possible."

"You don't give a damn, do you?"

"Nope."

"Alright, then. What are you doing up so early on a Saturday?"

"Oh, Mum wants me to come over for breakfast. I don't know why she insisted on breakfast; lunch would have been just fine with me."

"Let her know I said hello," Blaise told Draco.

Draco smiled at Blaise for a quick second. Blaise was always thoughtful when it came to Narcissa and she cared for him like a second son in return.

"I will."

Seeing as both had already showered and it was still early, Draco and Blaise sat outside in the morning sun chatting about Draco's date with Ginny.

Blaise wanted to know every detail so he would be able to analyze it properly. Even though Draco thought the idea was silly, he told Blaise all about his night.

"I think you should take her out again."

"Why?"

"You seem like you had a good time," Blaise offered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"I did enjoy myself, but that doesn't mean I want to do it again."

"Don't want to see her again or don't want to go on a date again?"

Draco thought for a moment. He guessed that he liked Ginny, but he didn't think that there was that special spark everyone talked about. He knew that he didn't like the whole dating aspect of the thing much either. "Date," he answered finally.

"Then just have coffee with her."

"That's too much like a date. I don't want to do that."

"It's nothing like a date. Just call her and see if she wants to go out for coffee."

"That's just like a date!"

"No, it's not."

"Stop talking to me!"

Blaise ignored Draco's command. "No, you need help with this."

"Zabini, you are not a therapist!"

"I'm not pretending to be."

"You are either pretending to be a therapist or you are pulling a Pansy!"

Blaise looked shocked for a moment at Draco's hideous accusation.

Draco allowed a small smile to slide onto his face. He knew that little comment would put an end to Blaise's evaluation of his love life.

Pansy, though she meant well, was notorious for doing all she could to 'help people get more out of life.' Pansy didn't actually do much helping, though. She tended to make things worse most of the time.

"How is Pansy?" Blaise asked, his voice leaving no doubt to the fact that he was feeling uncomfortable and doing his best to change the subject.

Draco was quite happy with the change so he didn't say anything about it. "I've not heard from her in a while. I thought she worked at the Ministry. Don't you see her?"

"Not with different hours every day. We should give her a call sometime."

Draco nodded his head in agreement, but didn't say much else. He liked Pansy well enough to talk to her on a semi-regular basis. Blaise, however, meant, "Hey, let's have a huge party and Pansy can come, too."

"If you are finished analyzing me, doctor, I'm going to leave now."

"I am by no means finished with you. I have the day off and you have to come home sometime. I'll give you my two cents before morning."

"Bye," Draco said before walking out the door. A grunt was the only reply he got.

By the time Draco arrived at Malfoy Manor, he was late. It was something that Narcissa looked down upon more than anything else. Draco could remember her telling him as a child, time and time again, "One must always be punctual, Draco." The thought made him smile.

As Draco walked through the front hall of the manor, a house elf popped in.

"Master, the Missus has told Snippy to tell Master to be in the informal dining room, Sir." the elf squeaked as it attempted to give a low bow and walk at the same time.

Draco knew this already and took no notice of the elf. He did not think that Narcissa would use the formal dining room for a simple breakfast with her son. The thought was, in fact, so absurd to him that he gave a small snort.

Draco pushed open the doors to the dining room to find his mother already seated at the small table, lips pushed into a line thin enough to rival McGonagall's.

"What kept you, son?" Narcissa asked as Draco gave her a kiss on the cheek and took his seat.

"Blaise and I had a chat about my date last night and we must have gotten caught up in the conversation."

"Do you care to tell your mother about your date?" Narcissa asked with a light smile.

Draco returned her smile, even though he was ever so slightly reluctant to tell her about his date. "We had a nice night. Nothing more than dinner and a few stories."

"Then what was it you and Blaise got so caught up in?"

"You know how Blaise is, Mother. He must analyze everything. By the way, I'm to tell you that he says hello."

"Tell him the same, dear."

At that moment, two plates filled with ham, eggs, and toast appeared on the table.

Draco and Narcissa abandoned the conversation as they ate their meal. The silence was comfortable, unlike how it had been when Lucius was alive. That, though, was something that Draco did not want to think about. Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried, he could not keep the thoughts from coming. They always flooded him when he was in this house.

The thought of Lucius made him cringe and he was sure that Narcissa noticed it. However, she did not say anything. She never did. Even though she knew what was going through Draco's mind, she never opened her mouth. Draco was thankful for her silence, but he also resented it. It was the same silence she had held with Lucius.

The same silence that Draco saw on her face every time she looked off into the distance, every time she talked of the past, or caught a glace of Draco's exposed left forearm. Every time she walked down the hallway in the West Wing where Lucius kept his office, every time an old friend called, every time she saw a walking stick, and every time she caught her own reflection.

Lucius may have been killed in the final battle, but that did not mean he was dead. His memory haunted this house. His memory haunted the woman the dwelled inside it, and his memory would be the downfall of his family. Lucius never let anyone escape, not ever.

"Draco, dear, let's have a walk in the garden," Narcissa suggested, laying a hand on his arm to bring him out of his thoughts.

As they made their way to the garden, Draco could not help but notice how much his childhood home had changed. Walls that had once been a perfect Slytherin green were now a happy blue, fabric of a darker blue was hung in bunches five to six feet apart all the way to the garden doors.

Narcissa had always been good with redecorating spells, but Lucius always preferred to pay for someone else to do it. Draco could tell that Narcissa had always hated his taste, and Draco was ashamed to say that he had the same taste as his father.

"I love what you have done with the place, Mother," Draco complimented as they reached the garden.

"Thank you, Draco. Redecorating gives me something to do around here."

Draco could tell that the comment was meant to hurt him. He knew that he should visit her more often. He knew that she was lonely here, but he had tried to talk her out of staying. The decision was hers alone. She had to live with this, not Draco.

Draco and Narcissa held a light conversation during their walk through the massive garden at Malfoy Manor. When they had finished, Draco made his somewhat hasty goodbyes, eager to leave the manor. He was practically forced to promise that he and Blaise would stop by for a visit later in the week, but he was able to leave and that was all that mattered.

Even though Draco didn't want to return to the flat and deal with Blaise, he didn't have too many other places he wanted to visit. It was a Saturday afternoon and all he wanted to do was lounge around all day and maybe break out the Firewhisky. With that thought, it was settled and Draco popped away to the flat.

Blaise was sitting sideways in the leather armchair and watching television when Draco walked in. He opened his mouth to speak as Draco walked past him into the kitchen.

"Yes, I know. You still want to talk. I want a glass of whisky and then we can start."

"Bring me one," Blaise ordered as if he were a king.

Draco laughed as he pulled two glasses out of the cabinet where they were stored and added a few ice cubes to both of them before submerging the frozen cubes in alcohol.

The glasses, which had been charmed long ago to follow who ever had filled them, followed him into the living room, one landing in his hand as the other drifted to Blaise.

"Why the bloody hell won't you just go on another date?" Blaise started off on an oh-so-polite note.

"You, Blaise, should know better than anyone that I do not date," Draco said calmly.

"But things change, Draco; people change. Change, dammit!" Blaise demanded with a slight smile.

Draco gave a sigh and drained his glass before summoning the bottle of Ogden's Old to his free hand and refilling it. "Why are you being so persistent?"

"Draco, you know how I see things. As long as you are having a good time then go for it. That's my philosophy on life. Live it up. You, my friend, are not living it up. You are dull. You used to party with me every night, you used to be a total dick head, and you used to be fun. Ever since Sandy, you've been too mellow and won't go anywhere with me except the Chinese place!"

"Are you upset because you think you've lost your club buddy?" Draco asked, almost laughing.

"I don't give a fuck if you go clubbing with me or not! I just want you to get out of this sad little routine you've fallen into. Weasley seems to be a good way to get you out of your rut."

"What rut? I don't want to see anyone. If I did, I would, but I don't, so I'm not!"

"You need to get laid."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"You fucked a different girl almost every night for three years, Draco. You lived off of sex for years and then you just stopped. You go to work and then come home and watch cartoons for fuck's sake! You used to joke about retarded things and laugh at stupid people. You've stopped doing all the things that you used to thrive on. It's like you've adopted a different personality."

"I am still me, Zabini! Just because I don't go get trashed every night and kick some stupid bint out of my bed the next morning does not mean that I have lost my personality!" Draco shouted back at Blaise, before angrily tossing back his head and emptying the glass down his throat.

"This is how you acted when you got out of Azkaban!"

"At least this time I'm sane!" Draco lashed out.

He hated the topic of Azkaban. It was something that made his temper flair unlike many other things could.

Blaise knew that he had struck a nerve and latched onto the chance to get his point across.

"You can't escape the past! You are who you are, Draco. The past is in your pocket and you can't help but drag it everywhere you go! Grab onto the future, Malfoy! Anchor yourself to the present!"

Draco did not want to be having this fight with Blaise. The only thing he felt like doing at the moment was finishing off the bottle in his hand and walking off the balcony, so without further ado, he started on draining the bottle.

"Do you want to walk back to the past, Draco? Do you want to drink yourself stupid every day and damn near overdose every night?" Blaise yelled at Draco, hoping that he could make him break.

Draco gave his infamous smirk. "Sounds like a brilliant plan to me," Draco drawled out, sounding near insane.

No better time to put such a wonderful plan into action than now, Draco thought. He drained the bottle of whisky in his hand, savoring the burn on the way down.

"You're regressing, you know? You're stepping back into the past. You're walking right back into his arms!"

Draco didn't have to think for a second to know who he was. There was no question that Blaise was talking about the Dark Lord.

" Fuck you," Draco growled as he stood and attempted to walk away.

" Fuck you! You followed him! You did his bidding. You have the blood on your hands, Draco, no one else!"

"Shut up!" Draco warned, turning quickly and hurling the bottle at Blaise's head.

Blaise ducked and the bottle crashed into the wall behind him.

There was no question now that Draco was indeed drunk. He was not violent unless he had alcohol in his system. When he did, there was nothing over the line for Draco. Hell, there was no line.

"What's wrong, Draco? Has the past come back to bite you on the arse? Do you want to escape it? Want to outrun it?"

Blaise was teasing him; just the same way Lucius had. He was being baited and he knew it. He just couldn't help himself.

Blaise prepared himself. Draco would either hit him or hex him. Blaise was leaning more toward hitting; that, after all, was what Draco did when he was intoxicated.

Draco, however, did not move. He was bound and determined to administer self control, but could not, for the life of him, remember why.

Blaise was going to have to push harder.

"You can never escape him, Draco. His blood is in your veins."

Now it was a different him that they were speaking of.

"You're just like him, with that mark on your arm," Blaise's voice was barely above a whisper.

A potted plant in the corner of the room exploded.

Now he was getting somewhere.

"You call yourself a wizard? You can't even control your magic. Some pureblood you are!"

"Damn it, Zabini, shut the fuck up!" Draco screamed. He didn't want to hurt his best friend; he didn't want his anger to get the best of him. He didn't want to see anyone bleed. Not again.

"You don't have it in you," Blaise hissed. He was quoting both the Dark Lord and Lucius. He was about to get the shit beat out of him.

That was it.

Draco lunged at Blaise, taking him to the ground. As fast as his drunken body would allow him to, Draco threw the first punch. Blood gushed out of Blaise's nose the second Draco's fist made contact. Blaise retaliated with a quick punch to the eye.

The boys rolled around on the ground for several minutes, each inflicting equal amounts of damage on the other. Neither of the boys was able to stand right away when they finally quit. They both lay on the floor, bloody, sore, and breathing hard.

Blaise finally attempted to pull himself into a somewhat-standing position with the aid of the armchair. "Episkey," he said to his nose once he had removed his wand from his pocket. His nose healed quickly and he moved on to heal some of the serious damage done to Draco.

Blaise knew that he had been cruel. He knew that he had talked himself in circles and contradicted himself time and time again, but he also knew that Draco was in no state to notice any of this.

What Blaise was doing was for the best. That was what he kept telling himself. This had to happen. He had to be right. They all had to be right. If they were not, then they were condemning a man to a terrible life.