Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Junkies	By : goldhorse Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 134120 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 20
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise. JK Rowling does. I make no money doing this. I just do it to keep the plot bunnies from strangling me at night.

Chapter List
- 1-Junkies
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-12
- 13-13
- 14-14
- 15-15
- 16-16
- 17-17
- 18-18
- 19-19
- 20-20
- 21-21
- 22-22
- 23-23
- 24-24
- 25-25
- 26-26
- 27-27
- 28-28
- 29-29
- 30-30
- 31-31
- 32-32
- 33-33
- 34-34
- 35-35
- 36-36
- 37-37
- 38-38
- 39-39
- 40-40
- 41-41
- 42-42
- 43-43
- 44-44
- 45-45
- 46-46
- 47-47
- 48-48
- 49-49
- 50-50
- 51-51
- 52-52
- 53-53
- 54-54
- 55-55
- 56-56
- 57-57
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It's that time again. My Muse has called a strike on all things productive and normal. That means you get this thing that promises to be something else. Fair warning, this story contains drug use, addiction, and vampires. Oh my! It might also touch on mental health after war and coping methods some choose to employ, namely my favorite characters. Enjoy:

“You can back out, Granger.”
“Second thoughts, Malfoy?”
“Never.”
Hermione smirked as Draco sneered back at her in the mirror. He claimed to have no concern for her but he’d made sure she was okay with this every day since they’d decided. She shrugged it off. Sometimes you did get attached to a fuck buddy. And that’s all she and Malfoy were really. She had Ron and he had Pansy and they were alright… but not suitable for a good hard fucking. She felt bad, cheating on Ron like that, though Draco had no qualms. But Ron just wasn’t enough to chase away the darkness. Despite Pansy’s Slytherinish personality, she didn’t do it for Draco either.
“Do you think he’ll actually show up?” Draco wondered aloud.
She shrugged. “You never know with him. I wouldn’t pass up a willing two for one special, but he’s got a tighter rein on his impulses than a saint.”
“He’s no saint,” Draco breathed with a glint in his eye.
“Of course not. We wouldn’t do this if he was.”
“I think we’re pretty well past crazy. Don’t you, Granger?”
She snorted. “Malfoy, I surpassed crazy that first day on the train.”
He grinned. “You were a hell of a shag though.”
She hummed. “Not so bad yourself, Malfoy.”
“I know,” he said haughtily and then frowned at himself in the mirror. “Well, can you do the makeup or not?”
“Hold your cock,” she huffed.
“I’d rather you did that.”
She rolled her eyes and started applying the thick black liner to his eyelids, still in a bit of disbelief that he’d allow her to do that. The first time they’d fucked, it had been spurned out of anger. They were both frustrated and horny and there. She wondered if it would have been Ron in the carriage instead of Draco, if she would have dug her nails into his chest and rode him like a rodeo star. She highly doubted he’d throw her off and force her to her knees before brutally taking her from behind, fingers leaving bruises on her hips. She hadn’t walked right for days after that.
Needless to say, when they arrived at Hogwarts and learned that the eighth years would share a dormitory, it had been more than awkward. It only increased when they learned that the magic baring the boys from the girls’ rooms was gone. Apparently the Professors figured that with all they’d been through, they’d figure a way around them anyway. Why even bother?
She and Draco could barely look at each other for a few weeks until they’d been assigned together to patrol the hallways. They couldn’t serve as Head Students since they were technically eighth years trying to finish out NEWTS, but apparently the staff had no qualms about employing them as enforcers. After the third amorous couple they caught, they were both frustrated and fed up with the silence. It led them to a rather interesting time inside a broom cupboard. Her back had smarted for weeks, the bricks having left deep scratches and bruises when he’d slammed her against the wall and pounded into her like a mad man.
And it continued after that. The avoidance dwindled and eventually they’d started actually talking in between ravaging each other. Draco had told her how he was fed up with trying to be the perfect Pureblood son, courting the perfect Pureblood future wife. He had a dark nature in the bedroom that pug-faced Pansy didn’t appreciate. He wanted to do something wrong, bad, dark, but not something that would get his arse thrown in Azkaban. He was through with being everyone’s puppet. She’d confessed in turn how she was tired of being put on a pedestal, treated like china after her run in with his aunt. She’d told him about her estranged relationship with her parents after she’d reversed the memory charm, how everyone pitied her, had her pegged as someone who would bend over backwards because she had a bleeding heart.
It was during Christmas break that she knew she couldn’t just quit Draco. He was like a drug. With him, she could be bold, slutty, fierce, and dark without crossing the line. She was powerful when she was with him. She’d written to him the first day of Hols, unable to stand one more moment of Ron’s shy caresses and Molly’s overzealous coddling. She was fucking sick of it. He’d responded in his typical fashion, haughty, smug, but willing to meet. He was tired of the stiff motions he had to go through too. They’d snuck out and found a muggle club in London where they could be themselves and fuck in the bathroom like nifflers and it was simply looked over. It was heaven.
They’d gone there every day after that, sneaking out well past bedtime and partying until sunrise. They got to know each other even better. He didn’t give a shit about blood purity. She was getting tired of being the perfect student, the doormat. He enjoyed muggle cigarettes. She had a taste for muggle whiskey that was just this side of being an alcoholic. They both fell in love with muggle drugs, uppers for the most part though they did partake in marijuana and the occasional painkiller. And… of course… they loved to fuck. The hotter, kinkier, and rougher it was, the better. Some nights they could barely crawl out of the club, managing to surprise themselves when they woke up the next morning in the correct bed and bruise free.
They knew they had developed a dependency problem but they couldn’t bring themselves to care. Then they’d spotted him. They thought he was a hallucination of course, brought on by a strong dose of Ecstacy. He was dead after all. But as the night wore on and the drugs wore off, he didn’t disappear. They’d run into him in the bathroom, Gents because the Ladies was locked by some arsehole who valued their fucking privacy. He simply smirked at them and waved for them to continue. Still pretty fucked up from the booze and the drugs, they went for it… and loved it. Apparently they were exhibitionists too.
The next night, the last night of Christmas Hols, he was back. He was very agreeable, going so far as to hand them some LSD and a double shot of something that burned going down. He’d practically dragged them into the Gents and gave them instructions on how to fuck, which was brilliant. They hadn’t thought of her bending over and grabbing her ankles while he pounded into her and fingered her arse at the same time. The entire time they were going at it, he praised them, their agility, stamina, inhibition. They’d fucked until they couldn’t move anymore and he’d practically carried them from the club and gave them THE CHOICE.
It was THE CHOICE that they were still wavering on. After the Hols, they had to tame themselves down quite a bit. Smoking and drinking alcohol were fairly easy to cover up with charms and breath mints. Tripping on acid or spacing on weed was much harder to work through. But they missed the free feeling of the club. They definitely had a problem but they couldn’t be arsed to care. They’d learned that life was too short and they should live it up while they could.
While their school careers were on track, their personal lives were going downhill fast. They were with each other enough that they were accused of cheating, which was entirely true, though they vehemently denied it. They were careful not to let on about just how amicable they were with each other. They never called each other by their first names, though they thought of each other with them. They refused to look at each other for fear of the familiar heat creeping into their eyes. And most importantly, they always had an alibi, usually in the form of a doppelganger charmed to fly a broom in lazy circles above the quidditch pitch or read books in the library.
Day by day, the monotony was killing them. The peaceful world after the war was too peaceful. Seven years of living on the edge had taken its toll. They were still hurting and while they were sure the rest of the world was too, no one else seemed to show it. Everyone wore big goofy grins, hugged like sentimental fools, and socialized like old ladies at the muggle bingo hall. It was… boring. After a childhood of danger and uncertainty, they couldn’t adjust. They needed the thrill, the worry of being caught, the pulse quickening substances that altered their minds so much they didn’t care. They wanted the euphoric state that chased away the nightmares to become permanent. And they’d made THE CHOICE the week before Easter Hols so they could prepare.
Hermione pulled back from his face and gasped. “You look amazing!”
Draco smirked at her, quirking one brow and turning to the mirror. He couldn’t hide his gasp of surprise either. He looked absolutely sinful in smudged black liner and mascara that made his eyes look like molten pools of silver. She’d blended the lids with a bit of brown so they wouldn’t be so harsh and now he looked like absolute walking sex. She held back a shudder when he turned to her, eyes burning with lust. She lowered her eyes immediately to avoid jumping him and ended up mesmerized by his tattoo.
He’d insisted on getting it their second night of Hols. He was sick of wearing the Dark Mark. Though it had faded to a light pink, it was still there. It couldn’t be charmed away but he’d always thought it could be covered up. And it was, in a beautiful tattoo of a Hybridian Black because Malfoys couldn’t be seen with a Common Welsh Green. He’d had it done in ink in a muggle tattoo shop from a picture and then charmed later by a shop in Knockturn Alley so it would move. She’d gone with him on a dare which earned her a tiny griffin on her neck just under the hairline so she could easily cover it with hair or makeup. He hadn’t gone small though. The dragon’s tail curled around his forearm, covering up the skull and snake. The dragon’s head rested on his shoulder, lazily breathing fire across his upper back.
“Your turn.”
She squeaked in surprise, realizing she’d zoned out. She did that a lot more now, her mind drifting off on tangents that it had never been before. She shook it to clear it and then sat down on the bench to work on her own makeup, black of course. Black liner, black mascara, black lips. Then she charmed her fingernails black and did Draco’s as well. They dressed, not bothering to go into separate rooms. He’d seen places even Healers hadn’t so she found it useless to try and be modest around him now.
“Ready?” he asked when they were finished.
She took a deep breath and nodded before taking a moment to appreciate his look. Black silk shirt, black trousers, tight in the arse and baggy in the legs, and a black leather trench coat that hung to mid-calf with silver chains and toggles that fit his upper torso like a second skin made him look delicious. His long hair flowed over his shoulders and he’d streaked it with thick chunks of black for the occasion. Though they weren’t muggle, his dragon hide boots made the outfit.
“Fuck Granger,” he growled. “I’m not sure if I can make it there.”
She blushed, despite the fact that he’d said the same many times before. Somehow, he made it always seem sincere. She was under no illusions. This wasn’t love, romance, or anything that could be mistaken for tender feelings. This was mutual lust and a means to an end. But she did preen in her outfit. It had taken her a while to find the corset dress. The top was blood red, accented with black netting and silver hooks. Her skirt hung in layered black tatters, barely covering her arse. Underneath, she wore fishnet stockings held up with black lace garters and thigh high boots that had about a thousand eyelets and boosted her height by three inches.
“One more thing,” he said hoarsely as she tossed her magically straightened hair across her shoulder.
She swallowed hard, taking in the delicate studded collar he held out. It was black like the rest of the ensemble with square grommets. They’d played with collars a bit but not with the significance this one had. She tamped down her fear and buckled it in place, waiting for him to do the same with his. Only his collar had spikes on it, accentuating his slender neck.
“Ready?” she asked shakily.
He nodded and summoned their cloaks. They made sure to cover up with them completely, throwing the hoods over their faces. It was bad enough Ron and Pansy had thrown one hell of a fit when they’d announced they wouldn’t be going home with them for Easter. The backlash was still going strong, speculations running high. Ron and Pansy had even decided to stay at the castle with them to try and catch them. To be caught sneaking out dressed as they were would be disastrous. They wouldn’t have cared but they did still want to keep their trysts under wraps. It was much easier to be bad when reporters weren’t hounding you every time you breathed. Or Ron and Pansy for that matter. Those two were a force.
Twice they had to duck into alcoves, clicking noises alerting them to upcoming passersby. Once they froze, wondering if they’d actually heard the familiar swishing sound of an invisible cloak. They wouldn’t be spotted under their plain black cloaks unless they were ripped off, but they still didn’t like the feeling of being watched. Shaking it off, they made a beeline for the grounds. At least there they could lose Harry, if it was him. They’d been sitting on the port key since Christmas Hols, wondering if they could dare accept THE CHOICE.
At the edge of the forest, they whipped out the necklace, a tiny black Ankh. It was a promise of a different life… if they chose it. They murmured the activation word ‘everlast’ and held on as the familiar tug behind their navels whisked them away to their favorite muggle club in London. The bouncer grinned at them and waved them through, having become quite familiar with their faces. He thought they were gorgeous and they took advantage of it every time. They got VIP treatment and all it cost them was a blow job in the alley. It was the first they’d performed together and another experience they could add to their ever growing list of things that pushed the envelope.
“He might not even be here,” Hermione murmured, looking around as they made their way to the bar.
“Then we have fun,” Draco said, pulling her into him and grinding his already hardened erection into her arse. “Didn’t you miss this place?”
“Oh, yes,” she moaned, pushing back into him. “I did miss this.”
“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get fucked up.”
They raced to the bar where they confounded the bar tender into giving them two shots apiece. They downed them in quick succession and went searching for something that would take them to another level. Before they could find the dealer of the night, a familiar voice washed over them.
“I didn’t think you two would show.”
He was there. They turned slowly, savoring his appearance. Strangely enough, he hadn’t changed. He still wore the stiff tunic and cloak they’d seen him wear since first year. His jet black hair hung limply to his shoulders, several strands falling into his face. Those glittering onyx eyes bored into them, threatening to bare their souls before everyone. It was the voice that got them both though, the deep baritone promising dark happenings beyond their imagination.
“First chance to get away,” Draco said, his voice hoarse.
“Oh, I doubt you two had to wait until Hols to get away. You were my most clever students. If you combined those formidable minds of yours, I’m sure you would have been here the next day. No. You had to think about it. What’s the matter? Castle life get boring?”
“Life after the war got boring,” Hermione murmured. “You never said how you survived Professor.”
Snape gave his patented smirk, the one that promised a year’s worth of detention and hundreds of points. “I never said I did.”
She gasped. “Y-you’re the one?”
Snape nodded. “Shall we? Or perhaps you would like something to whet the appetite.”
They looked at each other and then the club, longingly searching for a tiny dot on a scrap of paper that promised them an out of body experience.
“I thought as much,” Snape purred, pulling out two papers no bigger than the tip of his index finger.
They stared at them like they were worth three million galleons a piece. They’d been craving the kind of freedom it offered ever since they’d had to stop.
“A kiss for each,” Snape drawled.
Without hesitation, Draco leaned over and slanted his lips over his former Professor’s, moaning as the man reciprocated, holding the back of his head and pushing him closer. Hermione thought she was going to cum right there. Watching the two men go at it had to be the hottest thing she’d ever seen. But they pulled back before it went any further and it was her turn.
Snape was much taller than her. Even on her tip toes in her super high shoes, he had to lean down. She tangled her hands in his stringy hair and gave it her all. His lips were surprisingly soft and tasted of something metallic, Malfoy, and something that had to be Snape. It was intoxicating, more so when he reached down and grabbed a handful of her arse. She bucked her hips when he squeezed, the feeling sending jolts of pleasure to her core. She moaned in disappointment when he pulled back with a chuckle.
“I knew you two would be worthy.”
They eagerly held out their tongues so he could deposit their favorite party starter. Thirty minutes later, they were in another world. Colors were more vivid and they felt as if they could feel them. Their minds seemed to sharpen and the horrors of the war melted away, replaced by a feeling of euphoria. People morphed into animals before their very eyes. Everything was brighter, fresher, new… free.
“Just remember,” Snape’s voice wafted over them. “You asked for this.”

AN: Ta DA! Since this story is actually written to please my Muse, updates might be sporratic. If you've had the displeasure of reading my other works in progress, you should know that I won't ever just give up on a story. But my muse can be finickey. Kicks in the ass are appreciated, as are any opinions you have, good, bad, or otherwise. I at least have the first three chapters of this banged out so it shouldn't be a really long wait. So, drop me a line and until next time... love you guys!
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Junkies