Tainted Love

Withdrawal

DRACO

Draco slammed the empty glass down on his counter. The firewhiskey burned through his body, a trail of lava from his tongue to his stomach. It stung his nose, but he had never been one to wince.

He liked the way it warmed him up, stretched through his body and lit up every nerve. He liked the way it numbed everything else that was happening, forced him to stand in the kitchen and feel his feet on the floor instead of wandering back into memories he would rather not return to.

At some point, if he kept drinking, he would lose the feeling of his feet. He would lose his presence in the kitchen and resurface at Hogwarts or the Manor or the Ministry in his mind. But by the time that happened, he would be too drunk to care, too drunk to remember that he had thought about it in the morning.

That was what he was aiming for tonight. There was a lot that had happened in the past week that he would rather not think about.

He knocked back another shot. If Pansy could see him now, throwing back half a bottle of whiskey on a Wednesday night in his kitchen... she would love it. She would love the knowledge that she could do this to him. She had always wanted to be the object of his every emotion - his love and desire, but also his jealousy and anger.

He gave her what she wanted even when he didn't mean to.

His fourth shot didn't go down as easy as the other three. He always reached a point where the warmth felt less like it was waking him up and more like it was poisoning him. It probably was poisoning him. He took another.

Pansy and Blaise being together was a blow that he hadn't been able to stomach. He couldn't foresee a scenario in which he would ever be able to stomach it.

Perhaps he had gotten too used to Pansy being single for the past three months - coming to see him more often and staying for longer when she did. Or maybe he should just go to Maulace Hill House and punch Blaise in the face. He would deserve it.

The drink curled in his stomach, its fumes winding up his nose as the drink slowly invaded his body, blocking out the outside world.

He grabbed the bottle by the neck, considering casting a Sticking Charm so that he didn't drop it. He dismissed the thought quickly, but tightened his hold. The metal of his rings clanked against the glass as he brought it up to his mouth for another swig. He should stop. He had already stopped keeping track of how many shots he had taken.

He slumped down on the couch, and his mind immediately conjured up the image of Pansy lying on its cushions beneath him, miles of her neck on show, her long eyelashes fluttering closed as he touched her.

He turned over. The firewhiskey was supposed to be helping him get his mind off Pansy, not back on her.

Draco hated thinking about that night, which was uncharacteristic of any night he had spent with Pansy. He supposed the reason he tried to keep it out of his mind was that Pansy hadn't been the only person to visit his apartment.

For a second, Iris's face flashed through his mind, eyes flitting over his body with a confused gaze that became realization. Her blush, the way her hands had hung, and fuck, really, he needed to stop this thought before it gained any real traction in his mind.

But he supposed it was too late. Because in truth, Draco's uptick in firewhiskey consumption didn't rest solely on Pansy Parkinson's shoulders.

It rested quite a bit of its weight on the events of the particular Wednesday that he had just lived through.

And the fact that he had come within an inch of kissing Iris Knightley.

Which was sickening.

He didn't know how he had allowed it to get to that point. He had thought that he was just hungover, but as he went about his day, it became quite apparent that he was still carrying a notable amount of alcohol in his system.