The Ghost of You

A/N: Well, I think it’s been about a year since I’ve updated any of my fics….so yeah. I’d been reading a couple (for old times sake) and realized my writing sucked. I am now determined to redeem myself. Though, as I predicted at the beginning, the first chapter was horribly confusing and altogether incomprehensible, bear with me. Disclaimer *points to previous chapter button* that-a-way.



“I’ve missed you too, Draco.” Harry said to the iron maiden which, though staring blankly at nothing in particular (being inanimate and all) seemed to be mocking him. He sighed and ran a tired hand through his red-tipped, ebony hair. A soft tug on his left leg caused his unadorned emerald eyes to look down to find a worn-looking Crookshanks rubbing up against his legs. With a half smile, he bent down and pulled the ginger cat into his arms. “Long time no see, Crooks.” The cat purred and nestled into his chest. Harry, remembering Hermione saying her chambers were in the northern wing of the castle, headed off to see his best friend.

He was not surprised to find that Hermione’s chambers were not at all far from Draco’s. They were merely two corridors or so away (a trifle of a distance in terms of Hogwarts). Slowly, the wall decorations faded from ancient documents and papyrus paintings to illuminated scripts and threadbare tapestries. In an obscure corner of the corridor, his eyes fell on a beautiful oil painting of three girls dancing eternally in a faery ring. They were sweating, and their shoes had been worn down to the point of exposing skin.

“Err… hello.”

One of the girls in a Victorian frock said, without ceasing her dance or looking over, said, “h-hello.”

Harry felt himself dizzying as the girls continued to dance in circles. “Can I come in, please?”

“Oh, well… I don’t know—I’m not in charge.”

“OK…” Harry said impatiently, “who is in charge?”

In unison, all three dancing girls pointed with their eyes at a faery laughing in a tree at the muggles she had ensnared. She was so small that Harry had not noticed her. “Can I come in, then?”

“Do you have the password?”

“No.”

“Well then I guess that answers your question doesn’t it, you idiotic human?”

“I’m idiotic? How many centuries have you been watching those girls, you perverted lesbian pixie?!”

“Harry! Don’t talk to my painting like that!” Hermione’s fluffy head peered out of the door when she heard the commotion. She was wearing a pink bathrobe and fluffy slippers similar to a pair Harry recalled his aunt Petunia owning.

“She was being a bitch!” Harry whined.

“She was being a bi—itch!” said the faery mockingly.

Hermione frowned at the painted faery. “Really now, are you ever going to let those poor girls go? Or at least have a bit of a break?!”

The faery considered it for a moment then said, “no.”

Hermione rolled her glazed sienna eyes then pulled Harry by the arm into her chambers. Behind the shut door, Harry thought he heard the faery say something among the lines of, “dance, monkeys: dance!”

“I swear if I could see, I’d get a bottle of turpentine and a rag and go to town on that painting—poor girls.”

Harry laughed and let Crookshanks slide out of his arms onto a fluffy couch.

“Have a seat, Harry; I’ll get us a spot of tea.”

Harry sat on plush leather sofa and looked around. If heaven were an eternal paradise, individually crafted for each soul, this is what he would have guessed Hermione’s would have been. There were no bare walls, for shelves full to bursting with books and tomes covered the room. Muggle lamps had been adapted for magical purposes, giving ample reading light to every nook and cranny of the space. Harry heard a clink and saw Hermione placing a silver tray with tea on the ottoman before them. Hermione took a seat beside Harry as she poured them each a cup of tea. “Do you still take two sugars and lemon?” Hermione asked kindly, her eyes looking at nothing in particular. Harry swallowed a hard lump in his throat as he gazed upon her once deep and shining orbs, now shallow and empty. “Yes, please.” He said quietly. Harry smiled as he accepted his tea, and watched as Hermione sipped her own.

“What is it you wanted to discuss, Harry?”

“Draco thinks I’ve abandoned him.”

“Well, you kind of did.”

Harry smiled sadly. “Do you think I abandoned you?”

Hermione laughed softly, “of course not Harry—you talked or wrote to me at least once a week—same with Remus… you did with a lot of people, in fact—why not Draco? That’s what I never understood.”

Harry sighed and let himself fall into the fluffy red pillows behind him, “I don’t know—I really don’t know.” He turned to Hermione, “does that make me a bad person?”

Hermione nodded and smiled wickedly.

“Thanks—that helps.” Harry retorted. “I sort of know, you know? I just don’t know how to put it into words so that he’d know how I felt, that makes sense, no?”

“No.”

“You’re usually a lot more helpful than this, Hermione.”

“I just think this is something you and Draco need to work out on your own…” She scratched Crookshanks behind the ears after he jumped up on her lap. “…for once, you useless prat.”

Harry laughed softly. “I guess so…I’ll let you go back to bed, Mione.”

“Alright then.” Hermione spelled away the tea and tray and closed her robe tighter around her. “I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight, Mione.” Harry kissed her lightly on the cheek and left her chambers for his own.







A/N: it’s short but it makes me feel as though I’ve accomplished something. Cheers.