potter! (drarry one-shots)

four: plastic bags (part one)

(trigger warnings: drugs)

Draco Malfoy had always been more attracted to bad habits after the sun went down, especially when his parents were out.

It was five am, and he had never felt more closer to death. He wasn't actually doing anything too drastic at the moment, though talking to Pansy Parkinson over the phone was close.

It was just, her voice always gave him headaches this early in the morning. His usual waking up point was four in the afternoon.

"I'm a bit worried, my room is starting to smell so bad, even I'm noticing it." By bad, he meant toxic.

Draco lived in the garage behind his parents house, and his parents hardly came out here, but he could never be too sure. Not only did he smoke his rolled up cigarettes here, he also smoked his weed. He wasn't sure how his parents would react to either.

"Well I don't know Draco, maybe take a break from it?" He sniffled and wiped the dribble from the corner of his mouth, sinking deeper into the couch he was sitting on.

He pulled the bulky phone closer.

"I can't. Last time I did that, it took me days to stop dribbling and spitting after I started again. Gave me bad headaches, too." Pansy groaned and said she didn't know, it wasn't her fault Draco smoked too much. His mum and dad would surely be awake by now, father getting dressed in his suit and tie.

"I think I'm going to go to bed soon, have a good day at school, okay?" Pansy said goodbye, and Draco hung up.

He placed the phone on the ground and sat forward to take a sip of his tea on the table. The garage had basically everything he needed. A bedroom, a separate lounge room like space, and plenty of power points and lights. It even had an outside toilet beside it. He only had to go inside the house when he ran out of food or needed to shower.

This was the whole of Draco's world, even if it was toxic for him and was too dark most of the time.

He finished his tea and sat back, pulling his fluffy blanket up to his chin and closed his eyes. He didn't fight the sleep when it came, he enjoyed his dreams enough to nap most of the day.

When he woke up, it was nine at night, and he could recall getting up to go to the toilet a time or two.

He checked the clock and called Pansy, not getting an answer and hanging up before he could hear the rest of the voicemail. Draco ran his fingers through his greasy, shoulder length hair, wishing for a pair of scissors to chop it all off.

He sat up a bit higher and grabbed the bong from underneath the little bulky table in front of him, balancing it inbetween his legs as he grabbed his cigarette packet, pulling a little plastic bag and lighter out. He had run out of weed a week ago, and had no papers either. He sighed as he opened his bag full of tabacco, putting enough of it in the hose opening, lighting it and breathing it in.

It didn't effect him as much as weed did, but it still burnt his throat and made his lungs shudder. Pansy always said he was dramatic. Half an hour later, his bag was a little emptier, and he had to rest his head on his knee to stop from falling on the ground.

He would be useless until it wore off. He had to put his stuff down, he could never trust himself like this. He wouldn't want to drop it.

When the phone rang, he almost didn't pick it up.

"Hullo Pans'." She giggled at his voice, he picked the phone up and laid down, smiling absentminded like.

"You just wake up, mate?" He rolled on his belly while getting tangled up in the cord, sheepishly saying yes with a warm face.

"So about this morning, you could go get some candles?" They didn't talk for long, with Pansy being a functional part of society, Draco guessed it had something to do with her job. Or homework, he hadn't been listening.

The next morning, he actually woke up at a sane time, being still tired enough to fall asleep an hour last night after talking to Pansy. Draco got dressed in a clean pair of jeans, pulling on a jumper over his bare chest. His hair was something he wasn't proud of, his last shower being a week or two ago.

That could be fixed with a beanie. Draco pulled a pair of converses on over bare feet and grabbing a wallet full of spare change and notes off a shelf.

He didn't go through the house, instead jumping over the tall gate.

Last night, Pansy had suggested a family-run business that sold homemade candles cheaper then most places. Maybe it helped that Draco's dealer was on the same street. He hadn't been working out as much as he should, the walk took twice as long and he had sweat on his upper lip, despite the cool morning air.

"Hey Luna, is your dad here?" Luna Lovegood had smiled and let him in, and he felt like he was looking in a mirror. They looked a lot alike, Draco could believe she was his sibling.

He worried about it sometimes at night, especially when he didn't have any weed.

"Hey, Mr Lovegood," Draco mumbled awkwardly, leaning against the doorway of a kitchen.

A middle-aged man with hair greasier, and longer, then his own smiled, sniffling as he put his equipment out of view from Draco, due to politeness.

Draco left lighter in subject of money, but now happier because of the weed and papers he had in his back pocket.

The house was short and stout, dark in shades but surronded by colour.

Not knowing what to do, he rang the bell. It must have been the right thing, because a boy his age opened the door with an artificial smile, taking Draco's attire in with slight confusion.

"Hey, my friend said you sold candles?"