His drug of choice? Lily Evans.
Her drug of choice? Sirius Black.
It was enough to tease him, almost to make the need worse, but he needed more. He wasn’t thinking anymore; not about James, or about himself, or even about what he was about to do. Only that he wanted – needed – to do it. And when he looked up, finally turned his head, he could see in her eyes that fire. She needed it too.
And that was it. Suicide.
This was not a crush. This was not lust. And this most certainly was not love.
This was an agonizing, bone-crushing, physical addiction.
And what a sweet, slippery slope it was.