Authors Notes- Hey guys. So, I've been working on this since June. I know, it's been a long while. I just wanted to thank you all for being so amazing. My readers mean the world to me, and this is an early Christmas present. As you may have guessed, there will be 26 chapters. I can promise you now, that all but about five are written, and the first six are written. I will be publishing a lot. Expect a few more chapters tonight. Thank you for all the love and just, yeah! Thank you. Merry, merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, whatever you might celebrate. I hope it is a time full of love, joy and whatever it is that makes you happy. I want to make a shout out to .harry for the amazing review I got last night. You really motivated me. Thank you to everyone else who's ever reviewed, and anybody who will review this story. Much love. Now, on with the show! We can't wait around here all day!

Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter, nor do I claim to. Joanne is perfection, I'm a striving writer who hopes to one day publish a piece of her own.

-A is for addiction-

Like rose gardens and full flower beds. Like lilacs and daisies. Intoxicating fumes. That kind tickle your nose and warm your heart at the familiarity. She was like cold butterbeer on a hot summer's day, like the smell of gingerbread on Christmas. She was addicting.

Just one kiss was impossible. For once he had one, he wanted more. And then some more. And while some were addicted to firewhiskey, he couldn't get enough of his amazing girl. He was more than pleased to say it, too.

If he could, he'd climb to the top of any mountain and scream his love for her. So that everyone knew, so that not a soul alive was ignorant.

Addiction was funny thing. It was like seeing only one color in the world, like only listening to one song over and over again. It was like a mix of passion and obsession. It was like being blind to most everything else. And he was quite okay with that.

"You're very addicting, love." He murmured into the crook of her neck, in the night's darkest hour.

"Am I?" She smiles coyly, and she runs her fingers through his dark hair.

"Yes you are." He kisses her soft neck. "Definitely my addiction."

"Should I be flattered?" She already knows the answer and she thinks—he's her addiction too.

"Very." He kisses her again. "Because I love you."

"I love you more." She's too damn competitive.

"I know, darling." And just like that he wants to hear her say it a billion more times. "But I still love you more than you can comprehend."

"I know."