A beautiful line

Chapter 1

When making a perfect line, a person feels extremely content with themselves.  No ruler, no help, just a straight line that needed no assitance.  Except that rarely happens and if it has, they were lying.

As he rolled up the left over dollar he had, making sure to leave a small hole, he paused. 

This had become a new normal for him.  Working day and night then investing his income into something so mediocre.  He wasn't proud of it of course.  No one would be.  It was embarrassing to see a boy who used to be part of one of the most esteem houses, fall into such a horrible hole.  The worst of it all, was that he was completely aware.

He took out the bag and disposed of it's content on the makeshift table he had made in the back of an alleyway.  The way it trickled out of the bag made his heart beat in ways he couldn't express.  The adreneline, the rush, the nerves all collided into one. 

As he pulled out an old business card from some ministry official from Bulguria he checked his surroundings to make sure he was completely alone.  Deciding the coast was clear he used the card to create the line.  It was never perfect.  He grabbed the rolled up dollar and braced himself.  It had been ages since he last did this. 

A trip to America had begun the withdraw.  He almost took this as a chance to sober up, to not be so interested in a line, but one meeting later and he had called an old friend to deliver.  There was never an exact reason why he needed the sudden boost.  He usually was fine, confident, his normal self.  Yet there were times where he found himself back in his old room screaming until he passed out.

He hadn't been home in so long.  After the war there was no point.  His mother and father had been improisined and the house was later sold to another family.  He had nothing, but for some weird reason he didn't mind it.  The need to be in possession of something left a long time ago.  It felt silly to even think he used to care about that stuff.

All he had at the moment, was a tiny apartment over london and a ministry job, which unfortunately sent him places like America.  Though inside his apartment he had few things.  His books, which he took pride in reading and re reading.  A bed, which he never found himself on considering he barley slept.  Lastly a record player, with only two records; One consisted of Celestina Warbeck's greatest hits, which he despised but still played it, and another being Just the Two of Us by Grover Washington.  It was the only muggle song he used to enjoy listing to, but had always kept that to himself.

She had brought it the first time she came over.  He told her he hated it, yet in the next few hours they were listening to it on a loop screaming the words, "Just the two of us" until it they grew tired.  She balanced him out well.  Taking his imperfections and making it her best qualities.  He had never felt so connected with someone before and at time's thought she was all he was ever going to have.  They were outcasts, gaps in the system, that somehow escaped the prison system due to age.  They were what other's liked to call lucky.

Somehow their luck ran out, and what used to be such a perfect blend soon broke apart when he officially lost everything.  Eventually she realized he was never going to do anything about his losses. She left him, alone, listing to the stupid loop.

He hadn't seen anyone after that, nor wanted to.  When it eventually got to much he decided on getting a job.  There wasn't a lot of places where a wizard could work.  It's either Gringotts, Hogwarts or the bloody ministry.  This wasn't a hard decision for him considering he hated goblins, and kids.  The interview process felt long, and it almost made him just want to say fuck it.  Yet he needed the money even if he hated to say it. 

They eventually allowed him to work in the Department of Magical Law Enforcment but not as an Auror, as the receptionist.  At first he said no.  It was demeaning to think that someone of such a prestigious family would stoop to the low levels of a receptionists, until they mentioned the pay. It was releavitley less then what the Aurors made, 35k less, but he took it.

So there he sat five days a week, answering owls from various places around the world needing help from the Aurors.  It wasn't difficult and most of the time it was silly stuff like, "My toad won't stop changing into a cat" or "I think my house was ransacked my death eaters".  He would finish up the day by walking into town and stopping at his favorite coffee shop.  It was never full and only one person worked there.  He was always greeted with a fresh cup of coffee and the muggle newspaper, though in the winter time it was hot chocolate.

He had worked there for around three months when one day, while he was answering an owl, three people walked in to the office.  Now Aurors never really stayed in the office, some worked from home and some just never even bothered coming in unless it was for a meeting (which never happened).  He had never even thought to check who exactly were the Aurors.  He knew there were three very important ones that the other's seemed to aspire to be, but he didn't know who, until today.

In walked the Gryffindor Princess, a Weasley, and the Boy Who Lived.

They made eye contact and the world stopped.  Here he was, someone who spent their life at school bullying this trio, only to once again end up inferior to them.  He backed out of his chair and ran out, later throwing up in a plant pot. When he was done, that's when it begun.  The memories and eventually a vivid image of him, lying in his room screaming till he passed out.

He left work early and made his way to an old friends house who let him in with open arms.  He showed him all the goodies and treats he had stolen off the muggles and how he had manipulated them to be better, to provide a greater sensation.  He had never done it before, but for some reason his brain hungered for something to make the screaming stop.
So he bought it.  Disappeared into his apartment and admired it.  Then begun the routine, leaned over it and-

The sky was now getting dark and the distant taxi horns echoed the sky.  He was back in the alleyway staring at his makeshift table and the line.  It looked even worse now, and he almost felt bad for making it wait so long.

He bent over and pressed his nose up the dollar and inhaled allowing the line to disappear into the system.  A sudden estasy poured over his body and he felt his eyes roll up.  His body hit the ground and a small chuckle escaped his lips.  He looked up into the night sky and stared at a familiar star in the sky.

"Look what I've become.  Draco Malfoy, the boy who wished he was fucking dead."