Ginny paced the floor of her flat, venting out loud to no one. That morning, as she had sat in the locker room snorting cocaine, she had been caught by Gwenog Jones, her captain. An explosive argument had ensued, and Ginny was given an ultimatum-- either take six months to get clean and go to daily twelve step meetings, or she would be booted off the team for good.

“I mean this whole thing is ridiculous! I am not some addict! I just use to get through the day. It isn’t my fault that cocaine is the only thing that helps my depression,” she complained to her mirror.

The mirror sighed but otherwise remained silent. It had long ago stopped speaking to her, having its warnings about Ginny’s drug use fall on deaf ears. As Ginny gazed into the mirror for the first time in moths, she noticed how thin her face had gotten. She turned her face this way and that way to get a better look. She knew her clothes had become loose on her, but her face was entirely too thin.

As she looked closer, she noticed the bags under her eyes. Not that they were unusual. In fact, Ginny hardly ever slept, and when she did her dreams were filled with nightmares. Some of it was memories of Tom Riddle. Some of it was the people who had died in her arms during the Final Battle. Some of it was the year she had been tortured by the Carrows. So really, who could blame her for using?

Despite her anger at being ordered to go, Ginny knew she would attend the Narcotics Anonymous meetings. Hopefully, it was as anonymous as the name suggested. If it wasn’t, Ginny’s career as a professional Quidditch player would be done for.

From Ginny’s understanding, the meeting was led by a Squib in Muggle London. Ginny donned her Muggle clothing so as to fit in. She check her reflection in the mirror, and deeming herself appropriate, she set out to go to this stupid, bloody meeting.

Ginny was grateful for Hermione’s teaching as she took the subway. She consulted the map periodically, getting off at the outskirts of London.

She almost walked right past the building that was once a sewing workshop. It was old and the windows were very dusty. The sign in the window was barely legible as it said: Before and After; Narcotics Anonymous Meetings.

She checked her keg holster where she kept her wand. There would be Muggles as well as wizards at this meeting, so there would be no need to run in with wands blazing and scare everyone.

When Ginny gathered the courage to open the door, the smell of coffee and doughnuts hit her, causing her mouth to water. She barely registered the people in the room or the literature stacked on the tables. She made a beeline for the coffee, pouring it into one of the styrofoam cups.

While she sipped her coffee and munched her doughnut, Ginny looked around herself and took everything in. The chairs were arranged in a circle. Some of the chairs had a person sitting in them-- like the chair holding Draco Malfoy.

Ginny almost spit out the bite of coffee soaked doughnut. His hair was much darker, but Ginny would recognize the pale, pointed face anywhere. Except he wasn’t really pale anymore. In fact, he looked like he saw more sun than Ginny did, and she was a professional Quidditch player!

Draco hadn’t looked up. He had some sort of cord running from a black box in his ears. He was bobbing his hard as though there was music that only he could hear playing. For a moment Ginny questioned his sanity.

But then suddenly, Muggles she had never met were greeting her, showering her with hugs, and telling her how happy they were to have her at the meeting. Her view of Draco was obstructed, so when he was suddenly guiding her to the back Ginny was surprised-- though how she could have missed all six feet of him walking towards him she wasn’t quite sure.

“Why are you here?” Ginny demanded when they were as alone as they were going to get.

“Probably for being an addict like you,” he answered.

“I’m not an addict!” she hissed venomously.

Draco arched a brow, and Ginny expected him to call her a liar. She had a retort ready on her lips for him, but he didn’t argue. He merely shrugged and moved on with the conversation.

“Is this your first meeting?” he asked.

Ginny nodded as dread knotted itself up in her stomach. Suddenly, the doughnut didn’t seem like it was such a good idea.

“I won’t tell anyone I saw you here as long as you won’t tell anyone you saw me here,” Draco bargained.

Ginny rolled her eyes and said, “Like I would ever admit to being here with you.”

Draco chuckled as he said, “Okay, Red. Make sure you behave in front of the Muggles.

Ginny simply responded by rolling her eyes as Draco brushed past her, his cologne lingering after him. Ginny followed suit, sitting next to Draco just in case she needed to be told to behave in front of the Muggles. Draco checked his watch, cleared his throat, and began speaking.

“We are going to start our meeting with a moment of silence for the still suffering addict followed by the serenity prayer,” Draco said.

Silence filled the room and heads were suddenly bowed. Ginny felt very out of place, and panic began to set in.

“Moment,” Draco said, “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

“Anyone want to read ‘Who is an Addict?’” Draco asked, and hands raised as people volunteered for the honor.

As Draco chose someone to read, Ginny realized that a squib didn’t lead the meetings; Draco did.

Ginny felt like she was going to hyperventilate. She heard the voice reading from what felt like a great distance.

“We didn’t become addicted in one day, so remember, easy does it.”

Ginny balked at the word ‘addicted.’ She wasn’t an addict. She could stop anytime she wanted to do so.

Ginny hadn’t realized she had actually voiced that thought until Draco turned in his chair to face her.

“So stop. Just don’t use for a month,” he said easily.

“But then I have nightmares about You-Know-Who,” she explained.

Draco shrugged. “I dream about what he made me do every night, and I’ve now been clean for five years. So if it is as simple as you say, Red, then just prove it to me. Stay clean. One month,” Draco said softly.

Ginny huffed. “Fine, I will.”

Draco motioned for the person to continue reading aloud.

Ginny spent the rest of the meeting staring into space and sneaking looks at the dirty blond Draco Malfoy with biceps. Had he really been clean for five years? Was he really an addict? What had he used? Thoughts and questions whirled around inside Ginny’s head.

Ginny planned on being the first person out of the door when the meeting ended, but when the moment came, her feet wouldn’t carry her, For a moment, she was stuck as everyone else left.

When it was just her and Draco, she found herself more relaxed. She observed Draco stacking chairs and emptying out the coffee pot before she was able to muster the courage to speak to him again.

“What were you addicted to?” Ginny asked.

“I am addicted to heroin,” Draco answered.

“I thought you said you have been clean for five years,” Ginny retorted.

Draco nodded as he said, “I have been, but addiction doesn’t work like that. Once an addict, always an addict. These meetings are the only thing proven to help.”

“I’m not an addict,” Ginny stubbornly said.

Draco sucked his teeth in thought for a moment before saying, “But if you were, that would be okay. Addiction isn’t a death sentence unless you make it one.”

“That is nice for people who are addicts,” Ginny said simply.

Draco folded his arms and stared at her as though he were assessing her or debating what to say next.

“Do you have a phone?” he asked.

Ginny shook her head no.

“Let me give you one. Even if you aren’t an addict, your body may be physically dependent on what you were using. Any time you ingest something too frequently your body starts needing it to function., So suddenly stopping can and most likely will make you very sick. So here,” he said and handed her a cell phone. “Call me if it gets too bad.”

Ginny took it and looked it over a minute. The phone was a simple flip phone; one like what Hermione had taught her to use. Ginny wasn’t surprised to see Draco’s number was already programmed into it.

“Thanks, I guess,” Ginny mumbled as she pocketed the phone.

Draco walked over to one of the tables, grabbed a book, turned back to Ginny, and handed her the small pocket size book.

“That is the Alcoholics Anonymous book. It’s great at explaining the difference between the user and the addict. Just mentally replace the word alcoholic with addict. Educate yourself even if you aren’t an addict. Someone you know probably is, Red,” Draco instructed her.

While Ginny highly doubted that anyone she knew was an addict, even she had to admit there was nothing wrong with being educated on a problem she didn’t have. It would be the perfect way to show Gwenog that Ginny Weasley was in fact NOT an addict.

“So when is the next meeting?” Ginny asked.

Draco turned back to the table, grabbed a schedule, and handed it to Ginny.

“This is our schedule. You will see people you know at some of these meetings. All I ask is that you respect their right to confidentiality and anonymity.”

Ginny nodded and said, “I can do that. I imagine these meetings are helpful to those who are addicts, and I wouldn’t want to hinder that.”

Draco gave a small smile as he said, “I appreciate that, and I like to think these meetings do help. They certainly have helped me quite a bit. I owe my life to this program.”

“Why did you use?” Ginny found herself asking, her curiosity piqued.

Draco took a deep breath, sucked his teeth, and then answered.

“During the war I saw so many people killed in my own home. Some of them I was forced to torture. He would stand behind me, his wand trained on my mother, and he would torture her if I didn’t torture the person in front of me.”

Draco shook his head. “You and I both knew how sadistic he was, and I didn’t want to remember any of that. I wanted to be completely numb. I didn’t want to see my victims’ screaming faces every time I breathed, and it was really that bad. I couldn’t live with what I had done, and heroin numbed me completely. It didn’t take long for me to become addicted to it.”

Ginny felt empathy for Draco, and she lightly rested her tiny hand on his broad shoulder. She hadn’t expected such open honesty from him, and she felt in her bones that Draco had changed for the better.

“I’ll be here tomorrow,” Ginny promised.

Draco nodded and said, “Call me if you need me.”

Ginny nodded and walked out; she easily blended in with the crowd, and in the blink of an eye, Draco had lost sight of her.
He only hoped she really would be back.

Ginny woke up the next morning feeling as if the Hogwarts Express had hit her twice. Her nose was running, her body ached, and she kept throwing up.

Without even thinking, Ginny reached for where she normally kept her stash of cocaine only to find it empty. She groaned as she remembered flushing it down the toilet the previous night after the Narcotics Anonymous meeting.

“What the fuck?” she complained.

She recalled what Draco had told her the day before about physical dependency. Was that what this was? Or did she simply need a Pepper-Up Potion?

Ginny dug through her potions bag, found the Pepper-Up Potion, and downed it in five gulps. Smoke streamed out of her ears, and Ginny stood there waiting for relief that never came.

“Are you fucking serious?!” she screamed as she threw the empty potion bottle against the wall and listened to it shatter.

Ginny felt the pressure of a migraine building in her head, and she was beyond pissed.

“Where is my fucking cell?” she whined to the empty room.

She wanted to collapse back into bed, do a line of coke, and then go to see George. They always ate together on Wednesdays. It was something they had started after Fred passed away. As much as Ginny loved Ron-and Merlin knew it was a lot-she had always been closer to the twins.

Missing lunch with George wasn’t an option. Not with as depressed as he had been as of late. Ginny licked her lips and looked at the cookie jar where she kept her emergency stash. It had only enough for two lines in it, but Ginny just needed to get through the lunch. She didn’t even think as she grabbed the cookie jar.

Inside was a small baggie with cocaine in it and a clean straw. She set the bag on the counter, opened it, and set up the two lines. She snorted them up, enjoying the sweet burn, and after a few minutes she felt immensely better.

“I’ll quit using tomorrow,” she promised the air. “I just have to meet George today.”

Guilt churned in her stomach, but she knew what she was doing. She had this. She was going to quit. Tomorrow.

She hopped in the shower, forgetting all about Draco and her cell phone with his number in it in case she had felt exactly this way.

Ginny used make-up to cover up the bags under her eyes. She put Sleak Easy in her hair, making the curls perfect. She primped in front of the mirror for a moment before Apparating to the entrance of Diagon Alley and entering.

Diagon Alley was filled with people; people who turned and stared as she walked by, and a few were brave enough to ask for her autograph. Ginny reveled in the support of her fans. She was on top of the world. So why did Gwenog Jones think she was some kind of addict?

Ginny made it to the newly opened Diagon Alley branch of the Three Broomsticks, and she practically skipped inside she was so joyous.

Her almost-skipping stopped the moment she saw George’s face with such a grim look on it. She walked slowly to the table, and seated herself in front of George. Ginny noted the firewhisky in his glass.

He pushed a Butterbeer across the table to her. Ginny sipped at it and waited for George to start talking, but it became quickly apparent that he didn’t wish to be the one to begin the conversation.

“George?” she asked softly, noting the slightly glassy look of his eyes. “How long have you been waiting for me?”

George shrugged but offered no explanation. So he wanted to do this the hard way, eh? Ginny was more than capable of dealing with George when he was like this.

“Are you going to talk to me?” she asked as she tapped his glass of whisky in order to focus his attention onto her and the table.

George sighed and ran a hand over the beard that was starting to grow on his face.

“How did we get here?” he asked, his voice cracking and his eyes shining with unshed tears.

“What do you mean, George?” Ginny asked tenderly.

George sat there for a moment, contemplating his glass before he answered her.

“I am screwing my dead twin brother’s girl friend in order to feel closer to him. Hell, I don’t even like Angelina, and I am pretty sure she resents me for being the twin to live.”

Ginny’s first thought was that she needed cocaine to figure out how to respond to George’s confession, but cocaine wasn’t available. so Ginny had to try and refocus.

“George, he is gone, and I know I don’t understand the twin connection, but you won’t see him until the day you die,” Ginny murmured.

George nodded, took a deep breath, looked Ginny dead in the eye, and said, “Then maybe I should just kill myself.”

Ginny’s blood was running cold. George was hurting, and no one alive could alleviate his suffering. And Ginny was so scared that this would be their last conversation. That she would somehow fail George and lose her brother to Death because George was very much like the second brother with the Resurrection Stone in the tales of Beedle the Bard.

“George, you wouldn’t be saying this if you hadn’t been over drinking again,” Ginny reprimanded.

George shrugged and said, “So maybe I’m an alcoholic, but at this point what does it matter?”

“It matters because I love you! You are my big brother, and right now I need you!” Ginny shouted, not even realizing she had half the bar’s attention.

“What is so wrong with your picture perfect life?” George asked.

Ginny contemplated telling George everything. How she had been suspended from the team for using drugs. How Harry had once again chosen work over them, and they were in fact off again which made family dinners really fucking awkward. How she couldn’t sleep without reliving Tom raping her in the Chamber. How she saw the faces of their dead loved ones every time she closed her eyes, so she tried to keep her eyes open and alert as much as possible. Ginny contemplated being brutally honest for just one moment.

But instead of saying that, Ginny said, “I know my life looks perfect, but right now the very foundation of it is crumbling. I need you to be okay; otherwise I won’t be okay.”

George gave her a long, measured look and nodded.

“Fine, but eventually you will have to tell me what is wrong,” George told her as he reached across the table for her Butterbeer like he used to do when they were in school, but Ginny slapped his hand away.

“Get your own, dork. And maybe one day I’ll tell you, but for now let’s do lunch.”

Ginny took the rest of George’s whisky and tossed its contents in a nearby potted plant. George didn’t bother to comment on that.

“So,” Ginny began after they had ordered, “How is business?”

George nodded. “Business is amazing, actually. The numbers are in, and Weasley Wizard Wheezes is outselling Zonko’s by quite a large margin.”

Ginny nodded her head, thoroughly impressed. Despite his depression, George was still managing his business very well. It was no longer just a joke shop; George sold so many dark detectors these days that he couldn’t keep them in stock, Everyone was on edge expecting the remaining free Death Eaters to make themselves be known. It wasn’t uncommon for the Dark Mark to be seen in the sky randomly, a reminder that Tom’s people were still hoping for their Master’s return.

“How is Quidditch?” George asked.

Ginny forced a smile. “It is good. I haven’t been practicing as much. I’m taking a sort of vacation from it.”

“Why?” George asked with a furrowed brow.

Ginny shrugged and said, “Gwenog and I are butting heads. Everything has to be done her way. I just need a break so I can come back fresh.”

“Yeah,” George said while chewing his food, his bad manners showing, something their mother would have berated him for, “I’ve heard she is really difficult to work with. Just remember, she IS the captain of the team.”

Ginny faked a smile as she said, “I know, George,” and the guilt ate her alive inside.

Another night, another Narcotic’s Anonymous meeting. Draco made a pot of coffee the Muggle way, wondering if he would see Ginny again, and what condition she would be in if he did.

The sunken, hollow cheeks told him everything he needed to know; Ginny was an addict in denial, as all addicts are at first. Draco knew it had taken him time to realize that he was powerless over heroin and that his life had become unmanageable. He had denied it for a whole year as his life spiraled out of control.

Ginny was currently starting her downward spiral. He wasn’t sure what exactly had happened, but something had led her to the meeting, and Draco suspected it was something or someone outside of her control.

Draco knew exactly what Ginny was struggling with. No addict wanted to actually admit what they were to themselves or anyone else for that matter. Draco had scoffed at the idea at first, even as track marks littered his arms.

Funnily enough, it was Longbottom who helped Draco save himself. Apparently, his Muggle girl friend was a recovered addict; when he saw Draco lying on a park bench asleep, he knew instinctually what was going on. That night he took Draco to a meeting.

Draco didn’t remember any of it; he had been so out of it from the heroin that he couldn’t stay awake, It wasn’t until twelve hours later when he woke up on Neville’s couch that Draco knew something was very off.

And yet when Neville had tried telling Draco about addiction, Draco had become increasingly hostile. Finally he had left, just barely missing Neville’s head as he threw the Big Book. Draco assumed he went and got high because the next thing he knew he was waking up in a gutter, needle still in his arm, and rain pouring down on him. Draco had gone back to Longbottom’s place as he had nowhere else to go; his parents had kicked him out months earlier.

Draco barely paid attention to what Neville said about addiction. It would take Draco four more months of hell and Narcotics Anonymous meetings for Draco to accept he was indeed a heroin addict. Then came the hellish detox, and the all- consuming cravings; the very thing that told him to stop also told him he NEEDED heroin.

Draco stopped, took a breath, and tried to ignore the feeling in his stomach that only heroin would cause. Even after five years, he couldn’t describe what a craving felt like. He just knew it meant for him to buy and use heroin.

Draco pushed his thoughts aside, finished making the coffee, and straightened the NA and AA literature. And the craving was gone. Just as easily as it came, it faded. It had been awhile since Draco had an urge, but it was a reminder of how powerless to heroin he still was.

The bell above the door tinkled, and Draco turned around to watch as Ginny walked in, her hair neatly fixed and a dull look in her eyes. She had used.

But she had come back, and that was a start. Draco knew exactly where she was in her head because he too had been there, but he couldn’t force the truth on anyone. The addict had to admit they were an addict before they could get help. Draco only hoped the meetings would be enough for Ginny Weasley.

“Hey, Red, glad to see you back,” Draco said.

Ginny rolled her eyes and said, “I am only here because I have to be here, Malfoy.”

Draco shrugged, because that was irrelevant. All that mattered was that she had come to the Fellowship again.

“Did you read part of the book I gave you?” Draco asked as Ginny fixed herself a strong cup of coffee.

Ginny shook her head. “I had to deal with George today,” she said by way of explanation.

If she didn’t have such dark circles under her eyes and she wasn’t so sickly thin, Ginny Weasley could have been a knockout. Especially given how feisty she had been in school.

“Are you ever going to tell me why you have to be here?” Draco asked.

Ginny snorted and said, “I would have to kill you if I told you that.”

Draco leaned against the table as Ginny sat down in a chair. She looked very unsure of herself. Draco’s heart ached for her. It wouldn’t be long before the addiction completely changed her. It was what the disease did.

“I believe in full confidentiality, Red. Whatever you tell me doesn’t leave this room,” he assured her.

Draco watched her mentally debate with herself. Finally she spoke.

“My team Captain, Gwenog Jones, caught me in the locker room snorting cocaine. I either got clean and came here, or I lost my place on the team.”

“And are you clean?” Draco tested.

Ginny became suddenly defensive. “Of course I am! I’m not about to lose my career behind something so stupid!”

She was lying and they both knew it, but Draco didn’t call her out on it. At that point it would only ensure to push her away from the meetings instead of bringing her into them.

“That is good!” he enthused, and she blushed out of guilt.

The bell tinkled again, signaling that someone else had walked in. Draco dropped the subject, focusing instead on the Muggle girl named Emily. She was now six months clean, and Draco couldn’t have been more proud of her.

The room slowly filled up, and all throughout the meeting, Draco kept his gaze roaming so no one would notice he was watching their newest member, Ginny Weasley.

Tonight, she seemed to actually be listening, though she made no effort to speak. Draco felt that what he was saying would impact her, so when he spoke, he made sure to lock eyes with her occasionally.

“Hi, I’m Draco, and I’m a recovering addict,” Draco began, and everyone chorused hello.

“I didn’t get clean overnight. Despite going to meetings, I kept using. My roommate was my sponsor and accountability partner. They guy has never touched drugs, he was just the only person who refused to give up on me. Because everyone else in the meetings was convinced I would die of an overdose, including myself. But not him.

“So every morning when I woke up, he would read to me part of the AA and NA books. And I remember thinking he was completely crazy. He wasn’t asking me to pay rent, he fed me three square meals a day, and all he asked was that I spend one hour an evening at one of those meetings. So I did. For four months, I used and attended daily meetings. I listened to everyone share their experiences, but I always said I couldn’t relate.”

Draco sucked his teeth for a minute as he watched Ginny. She was leaning forward in her seat, her eyes never leaving his.

“One day my roommate challenged me. He said, ‘Draco, if you’re not an addict, just stop. Prove to me you aren’t an addict.’

“So I stopped. For about two days. My willpower wasn’t enough. Just like yours isn’t and never will be. I realized I was powerless to my drug, and I couldn’t stop on my own. I wasn’t even totally sure I wanted to quit. I knew I was an addict, but for awhile, I was convinced self-knowledge would be enough.

“Right during that time, I was dating another heroin addict. She was stunning, but she had so many demons in herself. She hated herself with an intensity that scared me, as it rightly should have.”

Draco shook his head and took a deep breath. He hated this story. He hated what he had done by enabling Astoria. But as he looked at Ginny, he knew it was worth reliving the pain if he could only get her to see she had a problem.

“My roommate was at work, so Astoria came over with heroin. She kept telling me she hurt, and I thought heroin was the solution. It gets rid of physical pain, so maybe it would ease her mental pain like it did for me.

“Selfish prick that I was, I shot myself up first. It was stronger than I thought it was, and I promptly passed out. I was out for four hours. When I came to, I saw my girlfriend convulsing. I had no idea what to do. I watched as she took her last breath in front of me and died. All because she couldn’t stop the mental pain. She just wanted to forget her dad touching her. And in the end, she did. But she forgot everything else, too.”

Ginny’s mouth was open in horror, and she had one hand covering it.

Draco sighed. “That was my last time using. You see, we completely forget or disregard that these drugs can kill us. It is always someone else that it happens to; we know our own limits. We got this. And hell, maybe I did have it, but not in that moment. In that moment, when I was unable to think or even see clearly because of drugs, someone died.

“So if you are here thinking you aren’t an addict, test yourself. Just stop using. Don’t wait until someone dies to do something about your problem.

“Let’s close out the meeting,” Draco said, and everyone stood and joined hands.

Ginny joined, but she was looking at Draco like she had never truly seen him before. She hung back after the meeting to speak with him.

“How did you like the meeting?” he asked.

Ginny shook her head as she said, “I didn’t. But I’m going to try your challenge. Maybe if I can prove to you I’m not an addict, I can prove it to Gwenog.”

Draco smirked. “Red, if you can prove to me you aren’t an addict I’ll tell Gwenog Jones myself that you deserve to play.”

Ginny woke up with a groan. All night she dreamed of Tom and what happened in the Chamber of Secrets. This was day one of no cocaine, and Ginny was already hating it.

She had promised Draco she would call him throughout the day, starting with when she woke up. So Ginny dug under her pillow for the tiny flip phone. When she had retrieved it, she went to the only number in the phone and hit call.

The phone rang and rang, and then it rang some more. Ginny was about to hang up when Draco finally answered.

“Hello?” he mumbled, sounding very much asleep.

Ginny whined into the phone, “This day already sucks.”

There was a pause and then, “Who is this?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s Ginny. The stunningly attractive non-addict redhead you gave a cell phone to for moments such as this.”

“Oh. Sorry, I just didn’t realize you woke up at the ass crack of dawn,” he mumbled into the phone.

Ginny snorted. “I’m a Quidditch player, Malfoy. I’m used to training all day every day.”

“Yeah, I bet. Have you used yet?” he asked.

“No, but I want to,” she admitted.

Draco cleared his throat and said, “That is normal; just don’t use. If you aren’t an addict, it should be uncomfortable but not impossible to be sober.”

“And once I prove I’m not an addict?” she asked.

There was a chuckle, and Draco said, “Remember, you have to not use for a month, but if you can manage it, I’ll talk to Gwenog.”

Ginny felt stupid happy despite feeling like death warmed over. In a month she would be back to playing Quidditch; she just had to not use. It was so simple.

“You know,” Draco began softly, “You didn’t ask the most important question.”

“Which is?” Ginny asked.

There was a moment of silence followed by a sigh and more silence.

“Hello?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m here. The most important question is what will you do if you discover you are an addict, Red,” Draco explained.

Ginny groaned loudly, “You just want me to be an addict.”

Draco’s tone was icy as he said, “Actually I don’t want anyone to be am addict. In case you forgot people die from this disease; it isn’t a joke.”

Ginny felt utterly chastised. “Malfoy, I-I’m sorry. I didn’t… I wasn’t trying to-”

“It’s fine,” Draco interrupted, saving her the embarrassment. “Just know that I take this very seriously. Right now I am fighting for your life against this drug.”

“What do I need to do to show you that you don’t need to fight for my life?” Ginny asked.

There was a yawn, and then Draco groggily replied, “Just don’t use, Red. And if you want to use, call me. I work, but I will call or text you back as soon as I possibly can.”

Malfoy worked? Ginny pictured him living off a trust fund.

“What do you do?” Ginny found herself asking, genuinely wanting to know.

“I work counseling people who have substance abuse issues. Mostly I work with Muggles, but since the war the number of witches and wizards who abuse drugs and alcohol has gone up. It is actually on a very steady rise for people around our age,” he explained.

“Oh,” was all Ginny could find to say, because she really couldn’t come out and say, ‘But you were such a judgmental and selfish asshole in school that I can’t imagine you willingly helping others.’

“Surprised?” Draco asked as though he just knew what she was thinking.

Ginny blushed as she said, “Well… yeah.”

Draco chuckled. “The Twelve Step Programs change you, if you let them. They aren’t just good for addicts, either. Anyone can become a better version of themselves by working the steps. I’ve seen it.”

Ginny smiled into the phone. “I feel like this is a plot to get me to work the steps,” she said.

Draco laughed. “No, not yet at least. You aren’t ready for the steps.”

Ginny had no response.

“Anyway, Red, I’m going to get ready for work. Call me if you need me. My advice is to keep yourself busy. Don’t sit around doing nothing. Do you know how to text?” Draco asked.

Ginny nodded, and then remembered he couldn’t see her and said, “Yes, I know how to text.”

“Okay, good. I may text instead of calling back right away, just until I can call back. But do something productive. I’ll talk to you later.”

They said goodbye and hung up, and Ginny was left with one thought: what the bloody hell was something productive?

~~~

Ginny Weasley was more than uncomfortable. She was in pain, she couldn’t stop shitting, her head ached like no tomorrow, she was sore, and the cold sweats weren’t helping to top it all off. And Ginny knew, somehow, she just knew that if she had cocaine it would all be better. Feeling like this would stop. But Gwenog Jones was going to randomly drug test her, and she was going to have to pass.

Ginny flipped open the phone and called Draco. It went almost immediately to voicemail. Ginny groaned and hung up, wanting to throw the phone across the room into the blasted wall. Breaking something might make her feel better, as it so often did. Hell, she played Quidditch to get the anger out of her. The training was intense, and it kept her drained enough that she wasn’t a holy hell as the twins had called her.

Ginny wondered if this feeling of wanting cocaine so badly that her stomach was in pain would pass. Except it wasn’t exactly painful. She just knew it was like knots twisting and releasing in her stomach. And she just knew what the solution was, and the more she thought about it, the more prevalent it became in her mind.

Was this hell? Because it surely felt like it.

The phone dinged with a text from Draco.

Breathe; I’ll call in five

Ginny wanted to cry she was so relieved. She set the phone down and stared at it, each second feeling like an eternity. When would this be over? Why was physical dependency such a bitch? And why did she feel this urge she couldn’t control?

The phone rang and Ginny grabbed it, flipping it open.

“Hello?” she said breathlessly.

Draco’s voice was calming, like waves at the beach. Ginny had been to the beach once, and she laid in the sand and let the tide come in on her. It had been the most at peace she had ever felt in her life, and Draco’s voice was like a living reminder of that time.

“You okay?” he asked.

Ginny sighed as tears formed in her eyes. She began to explain to Draco about the feeling in her stomach, and he listened silently. When she was done she felt marginally better. Maybe there was something to this calling people business.

“That… Merlin, you need to read the basic text. The Doctor’s Opinion. That isn’t physical dependency that you are describing. What you are describing is what we call the phenomena of craving, or the allergic reaction we have to a substance. You use, and then as an addict you want more. That is what you are describing. It’s the worst in the first few days of getting clean because the drug is in your system clouding your judgment,” Draco explained softly.

Ginny screeched.

“I am NOT a bloody addict!” she hollered.

“Then why are you having the reactions of an addict?” Draco asked quietly.

Ginny didn’t bother to say goodbye. She just flipped the phone shut and tossed it onto the bed next to her, tears streaming down her face. She was NOT an addict, no matter what Draco Fucking Malfoy said. And she was going to prove it. She was going to go use just a little bit and then stop. If she just weaned herself off the cocaine she wouldn’t be having these blasted problems.

Ginny Weasley was going to go get high, and all the back to back calls Draco was making didn’t matter because she was going to get up, and go get some bloody cocaine.

Except she could barely stand, and when she did stand her stomach revolted against her. She wanted to die because maybe then this hell would cease to exist. That was all this could be was hell.

As her phone rang for the sixth time she answered.

“What the fuck do you want?” she screamed.

“I want to help you. Please, let me help. I know what you’re going through,” Draco said.

Ginny began crying in earnest.

Ginny wouldn’t remember telling him where she lived. She wouldn’t remember him saying that Neville was coming to get her. But she would remember waking up in a Muggle Hospital, a needle in her arm, and Draco in the chair asleep as though he had stood vigil all night like some guardian angel.

She groaned and kicked her feet to get his attention, and Draco groggily opened his eyes.

“Hey,” he said, stretching his long limbs.

Ginny glared at him.

“Look, you’re in a Muggle hospital under a fake name. You were doing badly, we needed to get you help. This will help you get through the worst of it. You can keep saying you’re not an addict until you’re blue in the face, but you’re going ‘round the bend just from not having your drug of choice. I know what I’m talking about, Red. So let me help,” he pleaded, as though he were begging for her life.

“I… I don’t want to be an addict,” Ginny croaked.

Draco’s eyes flooded with understanding. “None of us do, but with help you can live through it.”

“And you will help me?” Ginny asked hoarsely.

Draco nodded. “Every step of the way.”