The Broken Ones [ENG]

Tack så otroligt mycket för era fina ord!! ♥ ♥ ♥

(finns det fler än tre som läser?? ♥)

Du är såå duktig!!!!! Längtar, längtar, längtar efter nästa kapitel ♥♥♥♥

Men tack finaste du! ♥ Nästa kapitel är på gång!!

Några frågor till er som läser; Hur hittade ni hit?
Föll ni för första kapitlet eller tog det ett tag, var tycker ni att fanfictionen börjar få kvalité?
Om ni skulle förändra något (längre kapitel mer sällan, kortare kapitel mer ofta, mindre av den karaktären, mer av den karaktären), vad skulle det vara?
Jag är nyfiken!

Jag hittade hit när den låg först på fanictionsidan Tyckte om beskrivningen och namnet och fastnade sen första kapitlet! Jag tycker att det är bra som det är men jag tycker att de intressantaste delarna är de ur Ginnys eller Dracos perspektiv

Heeej, har jag fortfarande kvar mina läsare? x) Haha, förlåååt för att jag är så seg. Det är så mycket som kommer i vägen bara och jag har lite problem med att hålla motivationen ibland. Det är på gång, jag loovar!! Ska försöka komma en bit i helgen

Yay!!! Klart vi är kvar! ♥

HEEEEEJ!
Alltså förlåt. Har såå dåligt samvete för hur dålig uppdatering det är här. Jag är en sådan här dålig person med prestationsångest som tänker att alla hatar mig och så är det svårt att få hit läsare och FÖRLÅT

Hoppas ni gillar kapitlet ♥ ♥ Kommentarer betyder typ mer än någonsin för jag identitetskrisar såå hårt just nu.



Chapter 17; Abstinence

Couples fight. It is a widely known fact.
It’s not supernatural or unusual in any kind of way, rather the opposite – it’s a natural and unavoidable part of a relationship. And yet, when it’s your first time, your first time for real, it hurts so bad that you truly believe you will shatter into a million pieces. You will fall apart into a million millions of shards, you are going to be thrown into the molten lava core of a volcano, and you will still not have suffered enough.
At least that was what Draco felt. And as far as he knew, those feelings were the only thing that existed. It was his fault, his fault and only his that this fight had happened, and he felt as though the guilt was about to strangle him. Except the strangling was real. He was physically unable to breathe properly.

It’d started out with yet another letter of Astoria. The letter had been the catalyst for his panic attack, which had led to him handling the anxiety best he could. His razor blades were all gone, flushed down the toilet never to appear again, but it wasn’t pain he needed anyway. He needed numbness, a warm and fuzzy head that softened the sharp thoughts until they were nothing but soft cotton balls, bouncing around in his padded brain. Needless to say, Draco went for his secret stash of alcohol. Just one shot, just one glass, just one sip, and he would calm down. He was sure of it.

When Ginny came home after her three-hour long Quidditch practice, Draco had finished one bottle of wine, two pre-mixed cans of gin and tonic and one beer. He didn’t mean to, he never meant to. It just happened.
Those were the words he said in a trembling voice as she looked at him in silence, her face expression hurt and her brown eyes exuding disappointment.
“It just happened”, she repeated with a chilly tone. “Right.”
“I’m sorry”, he whispered.
“I thought you had quit.” She was standing completely still, not moving a limb, and it frightened him. “I was so sure you weren’t drinking anymore. How could I be so sure?” She was still in the charcoal winter coat and dark wadded boots she usually took off first thing after entering, training bag slumped over one shoulder as if she was just about to leave again. Draco couldn’t put an ounce of blame on her. She continued her commentary.
“I had some foolish hope that moving here would help you, you know. That your therapy sessions would lead to something. That you would be ready to take some responsibility for yourself, over your life, over the idiotic cat-and-mouse game you’re playing with your life.”
“Maybe I’m trying!” Anger was rising in his chest, provoked by Ginny’s stone cold expression and hard-hitting words. “Maybe I’m trying my best, and maybe that isn’t enough, but I’m fucking trying.” An upset tear made its way down his cheek, and he wiped it away. He hadn’t gone a day without alcohol in months, he was lying to himself and lying to Ginny, but he couldn’t stand to lose this fight. He couldn’t stand to lose her.
“You’ve been stashing alcohol in my apartment. In our apartment.”
“I’m not denying it, but…”
“There are no buts.” She threw her head back laughing, for a split second reminding Draco just the slightest bit about Astoria. It was more than enough. “How could I not have noticed? I live here. I’m here every day. I should’ve noticed. I should’ve poured it all out. Merlin, what a failure of a girlfriend I am.”
“It won’t happen again. I’ll quit, I’ll quit…” The anger was fading, melting into desperation as he realised he was losing the fight.
“I want to believe you.”
“Then do so.” A burp, caused by the beer, followed his words. It didn’t exactly contribute to his argumentation.
“I wish I did, Draco. I really do.” Her gaze was fastened on his, hazelnut meeting ice, and she radiated a sadness that transferred to him in no time at all. “But I’m afraid I can’t.”
And with those words, she was gone. The empty wine bottle broke into pieces with a high clang as Draco threw it against the wall.

That had been yesterday, but to Draco, it felt like half a millennia had passed since. Not necessarily since the fight, but since his latest consumption of alcohol. His body, his in all likelihood trashed liver and manipulated brain cells, was since long used to small doses of alcohol being pumped in at a constant schedule. He couldn’t remember when he’d last went this many hours without the liquid his whole existence depended upon.
Draco was very rarely hungover, thanks to the excellent anti-hangover spell that saved his life over and over again. But he still knew that this, this wasn’t a hangover. And whatever it was, it was a thousand times worse.

He’d poured it out, every single drop of it. Part of him detested Ginny for this, detested her for making him do this, and he constantly had to remind himself that it wasn’t her fault. He’d brought this upon himself, and it was his own inevitable choice to get rid of the alcohol. He had to. Every time he tried to move the bottle just a little bit closer to his cracked lips to make the thoughts stop, he saw her eyes and the disappointment in them, he heard her words echoing in his head. The anxiety lurched at him with major speed, and he put the bottle down while the evil thoughts continued to run laps inside his brain.
He’d poured the alcohol out, and then he’d gone to bed.

Draco Malfoy had been through many unpleasant nights, but this one still deserved some kind of prize. He could count the minutes of real sleep he’d got on his both hands. Instead of sleeping, he’d spent the dark hours shaking uncontrollably, feeling feverish. His comforter got thrown on and off in furious movements as his body temperature seemed to shift drastically every five minutes, and he’d drunk glass after glass of water as he desperately tried to quench his thirst while puddles of sweat appeared on the grey sheets. His Potion skills came to be useful in the early A.M. as he made himself an anti-fever potion, but just as it seemed to be working, intense waves of nausea hit him and caused him to spend the following hour breathing heavily over the toilet’s chilly porcelain. As the regurgitation finally ceased, the alternating shivering and sweating started again. Draco was in a delirium throughout the rest of the night, never quite sure if he was awake or not. At one point, he was sure a herd of chimaeras had invaded his apartment and were burning it to the ground. As morning neared, he was fully convinced he saw Ginny, so close but still so far away, reach for his hands just next to him. He reciprocated the gesture, reached for love and safety and everything significant in the universe, but the only thing he touched was air and his hands passed right through the image of her. Then he saw Astoria appearing in the doorway, dressed in the same clothes she’d been wearing the first night she’d hit him, an emerald green dress he would never be able to forget. He tried to back away from her, he clawed furiously at the air, but she seemed to have little intention of moving. She just flashed him a malicious smile and faded into dust. Draco remembered glancing at the watch on the bedside-table, vaguely apprehending a time of half past six a.m.

That had been the last time he’d summoned the strength to look at it. He had no idea what time of the day it was now. It was light, and the light stung in his eyes if he dared to open them, so he didn’t.
Draco was about ninety percent sure he’d never felt worse in his entire life. His body shook too intensely for him to be able to move from the floor spot he’d collapsed in earlier. He felt feverish, sweaty and cold at the same time, constantly unsure whether he was awake or dreaming. He was nauseous. Anxiety came in waves, crashing over him and leaving him feeling even worse than earlier. He saw things, figures and silhouettes, and they seemed so very real but they weren’t, because they faded into dust just as fast as they entered his range of vision. His heart was beating fast, like he was running, and he felt like he was running out of oxygen.
Could this be what dying felt like?


xxxxxxxx

A door.
She was looking at a door, trying to convince herself that it wouldn’t hurt her, that she could do this, whatever this was.
It could’ve been funny. Comical, even. Normal, un-enchanted doors, can’t do much except open and close. The door didn’t even look especially scary. It looked like a normal door, made of a plain wood she didn’t know the name of. Not her best area of knowledge, wood.
Whatever. She was avoiding the point. Ginny Weasley was standing in front of her own goddamn door, the entrance to her own goddamn apartment, and she was afraid of entering. It felt like a joke. She wished it’d been a joke.
Part of her was still angry, still extremely upset with what had happened. She was absolutely mad at Draco for doing this. For letting her down like this. Part of her was just hurt, because he had hurt her, he had let her down. Part of her felt guilty, because she hadn’t seen this coming and somehow she’d allowed this to happen, deliberately or not. And then there was the part of her least willing to shut up, the part of her that was worried to the breaking point of what Draco had done and why this had happened and if he was okay. Which of course he wasn’t. He couldn’t possibly be.
There were many parts of Ginny Weasley, but every single one of them was still filled with love and care and affection for Draco Malfoy.
She didn’t know what she would say or do. She had absolutely no idea. She just had to trust herself to figure it out quickly.
She opened the door the manual way with a key, not trusting her voice to hold.
“Draco?”
No answer. She tried again, still with no response. But his shoes and jacket were there, in the exact same spot they’d been in yesterday. He must be in the apartment somewhere. The door to their bedroom was slightly open – could he be in there? She did an impressively fast job with taking off her boots and entered the bedroom.
What she saw made her want to cry so bad it was a miracle she didn’t.


xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


When Draco wake up, it wasn’t in a very pleasant way. Blood was trickling down from his nose into his mouth, and the peculiar taste of iron was what woke him.
“Oh, Merlin, I’m so sorry. Stay still.” A mix of black, pale and ginger colours danced in front of his eyes, but he was too dizzy to make out the shape of a person. Even the voice sounded freaky, too loud and too squeaky. If he’d had enough energy, he would’ve been confused. Something white and soft pressed against his nose, making the blood stop moving.
“You hit yourself”, the voice said. It sounded almost normal now, which was a relief. “You have a nosebleed. I tried to stop the bleeding the magical way, but medical charms were never an aptitude of mine…”
“Gi…nny.”
“Yeah. Stay still, stay still. How can I not know how to fix a nosebleed properly?”
“You… you…”
“Stop talking. It’s not helping.” She was still holding cotton under his nose. His vision was sharpening now, the colours starting to become the outline of actual items. He was in their bed again, Ginny on his left side.
“You came back”, he said, very tentatively. “Why?”
“Why do anyone?” she whispered. “Because I had to.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“I kind of did, though, didn’t I?” A timid smile showed on her lips as she switched the dark red cotton ball to a clean one. “Can’t have you ruining my bedroom floor.” She sighed. “Sorry. I can’t laugh this away. I was really, really mad at you.”
“You had every right to be.”
“I know. I’m still upset. I just… I’ve had some time to think things through.” Ginny leaned back against the headboard. She was looking at him, and Draco felt like she was scrutinizing every inch of his face. He wondered how he looked – seeing to how terrible he felt, it couldn’t be good – and thought that he really didn’t want to know. “But I think…”
Draco weren’t able to hear her last words. Everything had went black once again.

xxxxxxxx


Something was wrong with Draco, and it wasn’t a hangover. She’d seen those. Living together with seventy chivalrous teenagers who sure knew how to party had given her some first-class experiences. She was the unofficial master of anti-hangover potions, and had useful connections in the kitchen. Greasy pizza with a mountain of cheese wasn’t something they served in the Great Hall, but if you gave Dobby one of your ugliest socks, he would gladly prepare one for you and even deliver it to the common room. Ginny knew how to cure a hangover. She just knew that this wasn’t a hangover.

Draco had slept for half an hour after she’d moved his frail body to the bed. She was unsure why the nosebleed started, and she’d been silently cursing herself for being so useless at medical spells. She needed her mother.
The cotton hadn’t been enough to stop the bleeding, and now Draco was dozing off again. It was taking absolutely everything she had not to panic. What if he fell asleep forever? What if he never woke up? And yet she dared not try to wake him.
It was with a heart full of desperate worry that she reached for her two-way mirror and asked for her mother.

“Nosebleeds in themselves aren’t harmful”, was Molly Weasley’s comment when she joined the party five minutes later, after she’d fixed Draco’s nose with a flick of her wand. “But he is burning, Ginny. Have you noticed that he’s shaking?”
“Yeah, yeah”, she mumbled, apologetically. “I just don’t know what to do about it.”
“You’re going to stay with him. Get a wet towel from the bathroom, try to cool him down”, Molly instructed. “I’ll just go and prepare an anti-fever potion. I assume you have a couple of dried dung-beetles at home?”

Draco stayed awake only for the short amount of time it took to get him to swallow the potion. Both Weasley women hovered over him for the following hours, neither of them really knowing what to do. Draco slept, but it was an uneasy sleep, contaminated by various screams and movements and panicked breathing. Ginny stayed as close to him as she could, feeling his still so warm body against hers, not even complaining when an uncontrolled motion hit her nose and she got a nosebleed.

The ever so short winter day passed quickly, and by 6 p.m., Molly Weasley excused herself.
“Contact me if he doesn’t get better”, she said. “There’s chicken soup for you both in the kitchen. Try to make him eat something if you can.” Ginny’s stomach rumbled violently at the bare thought of food, but even so, she couldn’t make herself leave Draco’s side for a minute. He needed her. Or perhaps she needed him. It didn’t really matter.

Sleep was just around the corner for Ginny when Draco finally woke again.
“Ginny.”
“Yes, yes. I’m here. It’s okay. You’re safe, I promise.”
“I…saw things.” He rubbed his temples, looking puzzled.
“What sort of things?” she asked, but he shook his head, signalizing that he didn’t want to talk about it.
“It will be fine.” She wanted to believe it as she kissed his still so warm forehead gently, but she was worried sick.
“I poured it out.”
“What?”
“The alcohol. Every single drop of it. I poured it out. I can’t… I can never let it destroy us again.”
“I…” A million words was running through her head, but she couldn’t manage to express a single one. “Draco…”
She was interrupted by the knife-sharp ring of the doorbell. The couple looked at each other in a moment of shared confusion before Ginny went to answer it. Maybe Molly, or even Hermione, was just checking up on them.

Unfortunately, she was wrong. Instead she found herself eye to eye with the one woman she least wanted to have to deal with right now.
“Hello, Ginny”, said the sugar-sweet voice of Astoria Malfoy.

_________________________________________
DUDUDUDUDDUDUUU!!!


Like they say, cliffhangers are so

Nästa kapitel blir... actionfyllt!

nEJ VAD VILL DU MIG på riktigt du kan inte bara sluta sådär aaah : (((((((((

I övrigt så omg hela det här kapitlet basically broke my heart? Så sorgligt, jag klarar verkligen inte av att de bråkar. De är så fiiina och de får inte vara osams.
Men Molly!! Alltså bästa som finns jag älskar Molly så mycket!

Jättebra!! (även fast jag blev lite arg pga cliffhanger meeen)

Såååå bra! Alltså love it!

Den här fanficen kommer att ta kål på mig :c