His Addiction Fix

"I liked it. I craved it. I wanted more and I took it. I took it like I needed it, like my life had a limit and if I didn't get as much of it as I could, I'd quit breathing the next instant."

-Kristen Ashley, Until the Sun Falls from the Sky (The Three, #1)

Wizarding world had burned crimson that day...

After the world altering battle of Hogwarts, new world had risen. Slowly, the mourning souls had recovered, all except one.

It had been two years since the end of war but Draco Malfoy never spoke again. It was common knowledge, by now, that Malfoy had been a mute since the day of the final battle. That single most agonizing and grievous day in the entire history of Wizarding kind had left its wretched mark on him. There had been many speculations as to exactly why, as no one was as strongly and deeply affect as he had been, but none confirmed. Initially it had been diagnosed as post-traumatic stress disorder as the boy had suffered far too much, under the torturous reign of Lord Voldemort. But months passed and nothing altered, if anything his condition became worse. So much so that now after two years, he never left his room in the Manor anymore. The only thing that he ever did these days was stare blankly outside the huge window of his room.

Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, who both, miraculously, had been cleared of all charges due to their last minute switch to the light side, were beyond tormented because of their son's depressed state. In the start, both the parents had been confident that he will recover. They obviously had the best healers and nurses working on his recovery. However, with time, the flickering flame of him ever speaking again, died out. And their only hope was that he'll begin living his life without his ability to speak.

To accomplish that goal, they tried everything, from psychological consultation, to writing therapy, to gesture therapy, to wand indication treatment but Draco Malfoy didn't even make an effort. It was like his spirit was dead. Their son, who should've been the source of their pride and joy, was their very own tormentor. Oh what a sick demented world, they all lived in.

The final stroke came when he stopped seeing everyone. Even his parents. It was as if he had lost something too damn dear in the final battle. Two years after the war, and the once proud, rich, on-top-of-the-Wizarding-world Malfoys were a tortured pitiful mess. All three of them, each in his own distressing way.

Darkness surrounded every nook of their lives. Even the once awed upon, Malfoy Manor, was now dark and depressing. No lamps were ever lighted inside the Manor, as if they were all mourning their own deaths before time.

Narcissa Malfoy, who had betrayed the dark lord for her son, was now a weak hopeless woman. Her only child had no future. What she wouldn't give to have her old Draco back. She could have traded the entire Malfoy wealth if it meant Draco's well-being but she was helpless against the fucked up jokes that are played, by the higher power.

She had tried to convince Lucius to give one last chance to this new healer, who had contacted them. Apparently, she had this new approach that she wanted to try upon their son. Initially Lucius Malfoy had refused vehemently but his resolve had melted, partly due to his wife's tearful and heartbreaking crying and partly because he also still held the slightest of hope, for his son's restoration.

The only obstacle left, before the new healer could start, was to inform and convince Draco to give it a try. Which was going to be a huge messy silent fight. Like so many times before, they would start talking to him softly, to which he wouldn't even give them the slightest acknowledgment. Their voices would rise and his shaking of head would become more and more determined. In the end, Narcissa would start sobbing and begging and then the argument could go either way. He would either shake his head again or he'd give the shortest of nods. They could only pray it would be a nod this time. They knew even they wouldn't try anymore, if declined.

The stars were in their favor and Draco had nodded in the end, albeit very reluctantly.

…..

Hermione Granger had finally graduated from the 'International Wizarding Academy for Healers'. She had been the top in her class, no surprise there. Her specialty had been psychological treatments and she had not only topped the class but researched more than any healer at her level had ever done before. Which was why she had been hired by St. Mungo's straight out of the academy. Her professional life was top-notch, her personal life, however, was a sad lonely living. After the war, she had tried dating but no one tugged at her heart and after a few months of continuous disappointment, she gave up. Concluding that having a passionate relationship was just not in her cards. But how badly, she wanted that though. The war had changed her, she was no longer that ambitious girl who only wanted a successful career. She wanted so much more than that. She had learnt that, in the end, it all comes down to having that special someone with you. The way Ron had Lavender now and Harry had Ginny. They had the partners who helped them forget those bitter years of their lives. She hadn't forgotten anything, not even a single detail. She still relived her torments because she didn't have anyone who could make her pain go away. Who could heal her soul deep scars? So she only had her flying career to immerse herself in.

Two weeks into her new job and she had heard about him from a colleague. For some inexplicable reason, she couldn't shake off the uneasy feeling that had come upon her at the mention of his name. After much impatient pacing and nail-biting, defeated, she decided to learn more about his case. She had gone to the records office the very next day and after much pleading and flirtation with the head officer, had gotten his records.

Six hours later, having learnt in detail about his case, she truly felt sorry for him. He hadn't deserved this unfortunate life. Like so many others, he had also been an unwilling, forced participant in the war. Being tortured in the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange in his very house, she deeply understood how much pain he must have gone through. How much torture had been inflicted upon him? How much agony he had been forced to witness and inflict. For a moment, she had wondered if his life had been harder than hers, even before the war. She knew the answer. Hers had been nothing compared to his. She didn't have to bear the sight of a psychopath every single day. She never had to grovel at his feet, begging him for mercy.

Deciding to help him in whatever capacity she could, she owled Narcissa to approve her as Malfoy's personal healer. And now all she had to do was wait and plan her next letter as there was no way they would say yes at her first attempt. They were the Malfoy's after all and somethings just never change. And she had always been nothing but a mudblood to those aristocratic Purebloods.

A week later, Hermione got the shock of the year, when she got the acceptance letter from Narcissa, signed and paid for. Delighting in the tiny feat, like the studious pupil that she was, she threw herself into the research for Malfoy's case. For the next few days, she didn't sleep or eat, but only researched. After continuous disappointment and arduous studying, she came up with a strategy.

Monday came and she nervously entered the Manor, shuddering at the uninvited flashback of her last visit to the Manor. She squared her shoulders in preparation of the expected cold welcome. But it never came.

A regal but, aged before her time, Narcissa Malfoy greeted her, at the entrance, with a small smile and a hand shake. The pictures didn't do her justice, the woman was far more beautiful and full of natural charm. Surprised by the warm attitude of the woman, Hermione gave her a small smile.

"Oh dear, don't be shy. I am sure you'll do well. And even if you don't, it's alright. It's your first day after all."

"Thank you Mrs. Malfoy. I'll try my utmost to help in the recovery of your son."

"Hermione Granger, I've read a lot about you in the papers. You are quite a celebrity and too smart for your age. And if you can't help him, I'll finally have to accept the bitter reality."

Seeing the melancholy on the mothers face, Hermione took her hand in hers and gave it a gentle squeeze in reassurance. She then nervously looked around the hallway and asked for Draco's room. Getting the directions from Narcissa, she hurried towards her childhood adversary's room to treat him and the irony was not lost on her.

Entering his room, after a light knock, she was so shocked by the picture in front of her eyes that she remained rooted at the spot for the next couple of minutes. His room reeked of alcohol, bottles were splayed all around the room and so were torn books, broken objects and dirty clothes. The most shocking of all however was Draco Malfoy's appearance. His disheveled, silver blonde hair were long, touching his broad shoulders, his striking gray eyes were hollow, depicting his life. He wasn't facing her, but sideways towards the window, drink in his hand.

She speculated what had caused him such grief that he hadn't even tried to make a life, despite his disability. Agreed that he had faced severely tough times but, so had many others. So why was his reaction to it all so very different? Was he tortured to the brink of insanity? Had he lost all hope because he couldn't face the world anymore? Hermione Granger was a very curious being and she was itching to solve this riddle.

Returning to reality, she walked inside the room and spoke politely, "Hello Draco"

He whipped his head around at her voice and jumped off his sofa chair. In the blink of an eye, his tall masculine figure was right in front of her, hardly a breath away. Gazing intently in to her golden brown orbs, he brought his hands up and touched her face softly, too softly.

Seriously worried by his actions, she feared if he had actually lost his mind. She took a careful step back, away from his reach and breathed shakily, "Draco, remember me. It's Hermione Granger. We went to school together. How have you been?"

What happened next shocked her beyond words. Draco Lucius Malfoy crushed Hermione Granger into a bone-breaking hug. History was made right then. And she was one hundred percent positive that Malfoy has gone completely and utterly mental. There was no other explanation for his behavior.

Breaking the embrace she brought her hands up in a surrendering gesture and said firmly, "I think you are mistaking me for somebody else. I am Hermione Granger, your new healer."

He titled his head and gave her an intense measuring look at which she shuddered. Trying to act professional, she cleared her throat and continued in a business-only tone, "I know you have been put through all sorts of therapies, but we are going to try something new."

Still no response from him, besides his unwavering stare. She proceeded, "I am a psychological healer so we'll work on the psychological aspect of your condition. Starting with its history. How it began. For that I need you to show me your memory of the last time that you spoke. You know on the day of the battle. I want to see what happened in that instant and I want you to revisit that memory too, so that together we could work on making you get over it"

He had his eyebrows raised so high that they were almost hidden in his hair and gave her a clear 'Are you sure you wanna see that?' look. She looked him straight in the eye and assured, "I can handle anything, I assure you. I've had my fair share of torture during the war, Malfoy."

He flinched but quickly recovered. With a slight shrug he turned around and grabbed his wand from the large mahogany coffee table. Turning back towards her, he gave her a pained look.

Seeing that look, melted her heart. She was certain that this memory was the single most excruciating moment of his life. And she was making him endure it again. Cursing her lack of choices, she quickly went near him and captured his hand in her small ones, in comfort.

He gave her a surprised look but performed the magic and took his memory out and held the silver-blue thread at the tip of his wand. Quickly, producing a small glass vial from her jacket pocket, she gave it to him and he put the memory in it. Next he gave her a gold penseive which he had 'acciod', nonverbally.

Before she could enter the penseive, he grabbed her arm and sharply turned her around, towards him. Looking into his eyes, she reevaluated her first judgement, his stormy steel gray eyes were definitely not hollow, and they were deep with numerous tortures carefully veiled. Silently he warned her with his eyes. But she just gave him a small nod and clasping his hand in her, together they entered the penseive.

…..

Malfoy Manor was awfully dark and painfully quiet. The kind of quiet that signals an impending doom. Eighteen years old Draco Malfoy was standing in the corner, half hidden in the looming shadows of the statues surrounding the ballroom.

Bellatrix was pacing around impatiently and his parents were quickly whispering to each other in hushed voices. They all had their death eaters robes adorned and were waiting for the 'snatchers' to come to the Manor. It appeared that they had caught Harry Potter.

The real life Draco and Hermione were standing right next to the memory Draco, waiting to relive the torturous past again. Hermione whipped her head around, her frizzy golden locks swaying around her face and gazed intently at Malfoy, who was looking right down at her.

"This is not the last time that you spoke Malfoy. Why have you brought me here? Is this some kind of a joke? You want me to relive the worst moments of my life, you sick bastard."

His features instantly contorted and turned menacing. He was furious at her, his eyes blazing, spitting fire like hers but he shushed her by putting his forefinger on his lips and then pointed at the scene playing in front of them.

During their little ordeal, Harry and Ron had been taken to the dungeons and she saw herself writhing on the ground with Bellatrix 'crucioing' her repeatedly. Her deranged laughter rising by the minute, made her nauseous. Her old self was shrieking on top of her lungs and she felt like she was watching a psychotic horror film.

She didn't want to reacquaint herself with the horrible brutal past, so with no other choice, she decided to leave the room and wait in some soundproof corner of the Manor, for the memory to end.

In the process of turning and leaving the room, her eyes fell upon the memory Malfoy and she came to a sudden halt. He had his eyes tightly shut, his arms wrapped around his head and he was shaking his head furiously. Looking at him, it seemed as if he was in as much pain as she was.

His hair were damp and sticking around his shining face and he was dripping sweat. In consternation, she kept her big shocked eyes on him and wondered was he feeling this because of her excruciating suffering or because that reminded him of his nightmares.

He was near hysteria now and she watched in stark disbelief as he took his wand out and pointed it at her. Registering the murderous look in his eyes, for a moment she thought that he was going to kill her, to end her torment. But then looking at him closely, she recorded with bewilderment that he was pointing the wand, ready to shoot the Avada green, at his deranged aunt. Only to end her torture. But before he could cast the curse, Harry and Ron appeared right in the center of the room with Dobby. And the memory ended.

…

Coming back to reality, she was shaking violently, not only because of seeing her suffering again but also at the devastating realization that Draco Malfoy was ready to kill for her. Incredulity obvious on her face, she inclined her neck and observed him in new light.

He was just standing there, looking at her with his wide beautiful gray eyes, the depth of his soul visible for a change. She was going through such a roller coaster of emotions that uncontrollable tears fell from her eyes and before the first drop fell from her face, she was in his arms.

The time elapsed in their strong embrace and both wondered who was consoling who. They were there, sharing their years of pent up pain. Letting the river of emotions and memories flow for the first time. When she stopped crying but still heaving, he gently pushed her away and wiped her tear-drenched face.

He looked like a man possessed. With tremendous mental effort, he cleared his throat and whispered croakily, "Her. Hermione."

She was the one speechless now.

She shuddered at his voice and questioned herself, how many more shocks could she bear before she'd pass out?

He would've killed his own aunt to end her pain. How could a Deatheater ever be so affected by some girl's torment? How could he feel her pain as acutely as she had in that moment? Why?

Perturbed past her limit, she peeked through her wet lashes and whimpered, "Why?"

Clearing his throat again, he replied softly, "Because you were my addiction, since sixth year and seeing you getting tortured was too much to bear." He had responded as if that was the most natural thing in the world.

Mind boggled, she shivered but stretched on, "Why stop talking though?"

"You know what happens when a chain-addict is robbed of his drug?"

Fixing his piercing gaze on her face, he continued, "You are a healer, you must be aware of Addiction Withdrawal Symptoms. You were my drug and speechlessness was my symptom Hermione."

She jumped at his husky tone, getting uncomfortable under his heated stare. Then another thought flashed through her mind and she quipped without delay, "But you did talk after that day. You spoke to Harry in the Castle during the battle. You asked him for your wand."

"Aah that forever sharp mind of yours." he drawled, a sad smile shadowing his fine face, "Yes that night at the Manor wasn't what broke me. Your kiss to Weasley was the final blow. But that memory is far more painful for me to show so... "

Being on information overload for the first time in her life, she walked past him and sat down on the long-back hardwood study chair near the fireplace. Taking a few deep breaths to calm her racing heart, she gazed into the hearth, lost deep in the unexpected turn of events.

Addiction? When did she become his addiction? What does that even mean? She was the bushy-haired mudblood to him, that's all. Right?

Reading her thoughts, he voiced, "Slughorn's first class. That's when I smelt Amortentia and it was your exact scent, down to the't'. My interest was piqued. Few days of silent observation and you became the fix that was crucial for my sane existence."

He came near and sat down beside her and whispered quietly, "I know this is all new for you but I have been in this hell for years and I had to let it all out. I don't expect you to leave Weasley, however undeserving he is, and come to me, especially keeping our past in mind. But I had to confess. You can leave now.", and he turned around to leave the room. His silver orbs, ultimate paradigm of sadness.

She replied softly, "I am not with Ron."

She would've been sure, he hadn't heard her if not for the immediate stiffening of his back.

He whipped around, "What did you just say?" his voice deceptively soft.

Blushing, she confessed, "I never dated Ron. It was just an in the moment kiss. We are just friends. Nothing more. In fact he is married."

He kept his eyes locked on her, his gaze calculating, debating on a decision. Her face visibly reddened under his scorching watch. Few minutes passed, then his eyes sparkled, a storm brewing, and his stance became predatory. Her pulse quickened, out of fear or desire she honestly didn't know. A little bit of both maybe.

He grabbed her hand and with a tiny shove brought her to her feet, none too gently. Bringing his lips near her ear, he inhaled her scent in and said hoarsely, "You know what an addict does when he is given his drug after a long long time?"

Unable to speak, she shook her head slightly.

"He drowns himself in it."

And then he wrapped his arms around her, took her off her feet and kissed her. He was devouring her, relishing in the best high of his life.

She was scared, she was hot, and she was wet.

And under the above mentioned circumstances, women are allowed to lose all inhibitions. So forgetting her professional obligations of treating him, disremembering their age-old hatred and blowing their fundamentally opposite outlooks to life, she kissed him back.

….

Two months and Seven days Later.

Draco Malfoy woke up from a lazy slumber and looked down his body and saw him way too excited this early in the morning. Apparently he is always hungry for his new wife, who was lying beside him, his arms blanketing her in a tight embrace. He was such an animal, he thought perversely, he couldn't let her lose, even in his sleep.

The past two months had been the best of his life. Since that day at the Manor, he was a changed man. He laughed like he had never before, he lived his life with a new purpose. He had something worth living the life to its fullest for.

They had gotten married last night, which in his view was two months too late. Not that he was complaining.

Speaking of complaining he looked down between his legs again and decided to wake his sweet willing wife for some morning shenanigans.

….

A/N

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