Memory\'s Ghost

When Harry held the young man in his arms, he realized just how much time had passed since he’d last been hugged by anyone. He’d been a bit too prickly since the war for his friends to dare go near him, and the Dursleys weren’t exactly the touchy-feely types when it came to their nephew. It felt good to let himself enjoy just being held.

As their embrace continued long past the point when they should have separated, Harry became aware of some enthusiastic shouting from the direction of the Quidditch pitch.

“Oh, fuck,” he said, a black hole of dread growing in his stomach.

Abruptly withdrawing his arms from Tom, he turned and ran towards the Quidditch field.

“Harry?”

“Come on,” he called behind him and hoped the ghost would follow. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. Again. Ron was going to have his head--or other, more sensitive and more dearly missed parts of his body. His closest friend had been doing his best to make excuses for Harry’s absences, but there was only so much he could do. Harry had promised, sworn on soul, his grave, his parents’ graves, that he wouldn’t miss another practice, but there he was, getting cuddly with a dead man and completely reneging on his word.

“Harry!” Ron said as he caught sight of his Seeker. “I knew you wouldn’t forget!”

The black hole in his stomach spread a little more as it was increased by an extra dose of guilt.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he said, unable to meet his friend’s eyes until he felt a hand on his back, the touch warming his skin through his clothes, much to his surprise. Tom had caught up with him and Harry glanced up at Ron to see if he noticed anything, but the Gryffindor Captain was completely oblivious to the man standing behind Harry.

“Go, grab your gear, and get your arse out on the field. Ginny!” he called to his sister. “Harry’s here--we don’t need you to cover Seeker anymore!”

“Thank goodness,” Harry heard Ginny mutter as he disappeared into the locker room.

Harry quickly changed clothes, strapped on his protective pads, and grabbed his broom, nearly running into--or rather, through--Tom on his way out.

“Harry, what’s going on?”

“Tom, I’m sorry, I completely forgot I have Quidditch practice this afternoon.”

“Oh,” he said, the blue eyes growing sad. “Okay, then I guess I should go back to the cave and wait there till you’re done.”

“Or you could stay and watch,” Harry said, and that heart-stopping smile reappeared.

“Do you mean it?”

“Sure,” he shrugged, jogging out onto the field. “Why not? Just take a seat in the stands and try not to get too bored.”

When he made his appearance on the field, it seemed Ron wasn’t the only one relieved to see Harry. The entire team looked at him as if he was their savior as he flew up to join them, and again, the black hole grew a little larger. He could understand not caring about his schoolwork, but this was Quidditch, the one thing in the world he’d always enjoyed. Until a month ago, he’d never missed a practice, and he hated that he’d been letting his entire team down, but he couldn’t help it. Nothing seemed right this year, not even Quidditch.

But all of this was forgotten once he was in the air and lost himself to the game. He dodged Bludgers while keeping an eye out for the Golden Snitch, flying through the air on his broom with such natural grace, it was as if he’d been born with wings. It didn’t hurt that, throughout the entire practice, he had his own personal cheering squad in the bleachers.

He needn’t have worried about Tom getting bored--the ghost cheered every time Harry performed a particularly tricky flying move or dodged a Bludger, yelling at the ball itself when the Bludger seemed to take Harry’s skills a little too personally and attacked the young wizard. Tom cheered for the rest of the team also as he got caught up in the game, but it was Harry’s name that passed his lips the most. When the Snitch finally decided to show and Harry caught it, Tom practically did cartwheels across the field.

“That was amazing!” Tom gushed when Ron finally called an end to the practice, the young man babbling excitedly as he walked through and around everyone.

Harry tried not to grin too widely as Ron gathered the team together in the locker room to go over the list of things they had done well, and the even longer list of improvements they could make. He couldn’t keep his eyes from straying over to the ghost no one else could see, who was practically bursting with his newly discovered love of Quidditch.

“This is just the most incredible game ever!” he exclaimed, passing right through Ginny. “I’m surprised none of you have been killed. I wish I could join you. What it must be like to fly up there, above everything, completely free!”

Tom heaved a wistful sigh and as Ron wrapped up the day’s briefing, Harry took hold of his broom and headed for the door.

“I’m going to get in a little more flying time,” he said, answering his friend’s questioning glance, and Ron nodded.

“Just don’t miss dinner, or Mione will have both our heads.”

“Deal,” Harry grinned, subtly gesturing to the ghost. Tom followed him outside, his eyes wide with curiosity.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, you want to know what it feels like to fly, don’t you?” Harry asked, throwing one leg over his broom. “Hop on.”

Tom’s resulting grin seemed to stretch beyond the limits of his face as he climbed on behind Harry, wrapping his arms tight around the wizard’s waist.

“Now don’t forget to stay solid. If you fall, it’s your own fault.”

“I won’t fall,” Tom said, and Harry shivered at having that sweet, soft voice next to his ear.

“Hold on,” Harry said, and kicked off the ground and into the air. For the first few minutes, he stayed within ten feet of the ground. Tom increased his grip and chuckled.

“I’m not going to fall off, Harry. You can go higher.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay, if that’s what you want.”

Harry pointed his broom up until they were soaring high above the Quidditch field. Tom laughed with glee as everything below them grew gradually smaller, his eyes widening with wonder as he got a glimpse of just how much world there was out there beyond Hogwarts and the cave.

“It’s so big!” he said, an odd note to his voice causing Harry to twist around on the broom, trying to get a better look at the ghost.

“It is,” Harry nodded. “Did you want to see it?”

“I don’t know,” Tom answered, and there it was again, the fear that Harry found so peculiar coming from his enemy. “I don’t know what’s out there. I don’t know who’s out there. I don’t even know how far I can go before I disappear.”

“You won’t disappear, not so long as I’m with you.”

Tom’s eyes brightened. “You would take me with you?”

Harry hesitated, not sure why he had said that and even less certain of how to take it back. Or why he’d want to. “We’ll find a way to get you away from here.”

“And then we can be together,” Tom sighed happily, tightening his arms around Harry, who faced forward again, a smile growing on his mouth.

“Together,” he repeated softly, rather liking the sound of that. He’d never been ‘together’ with anyone. His awkward attempts at romance in his youth had resulted in massive failures, and then came the war and that kept him too busy for any serious togetherness. All he’d experienced during those terrifying months was the desperate grabbing for anything that proved he was still alive. Now that he had the time, and no longer needed to worry about whether or not he would wind up dead at any second--

Harry paused at that.

He was sitting on a broomstick, wondering if he could work something out with the very man who had kept him alone and afraid for all these years, a man who could no longer even be truly defined as a man, but was something else entirely. Should he be worried about direction his sanity was heading?

Probably. But he wasn’t.

Harry did a quick dive, Tom shouting with surprise and then joy, his enthusiasm infecting Harry with the first true bout of warmth and happiness that he’d felt in over a year. It was so easy to bring pleasure to the ghost. The rest of the world looked at him and found him wanting, but Tom just wanted him to be near, and that was enough.

“Thank you for the flight,” Tom said after they landed. “Can we do it again sometime?”

“Of course,” Harry shrugged, putting away his broom and the rest of his Quidditch gear.

“What about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” he laughed, but at seeing the earnest expression on the ghost’s face, could only smile. “Of course we can do it tomorrow, and every day this week, if that’s what you want.”

“Thank you, Harry,” Tom said, stepping close to him. “Thank you for everything. You’ve been so generous, and so patient--it’s more than I have any right to ask for.”

“Ask for anything you want,” Harry said, feeling the nerves starting to dance in his stomach as Tom drew even nearer.

“Anything?” the ghost asked, the blues of his eyes darkening as his robes brushed against Harry’s body. Harry’s pulse began to quicken, and he spared a second to wonder if Tom even felt a pulse.

Harry swallowed hard, trying to steady out his breathing. “Is there something in particular you’d like to ask of me?”

“Just one,” Tom said, tilting his head towards Harry’s. If Tom had been real, Harry would have been able to feel the warmth of his breath against his mouth. If Tom had been real, the combined heat of the closeness of their bodies would have been partially responsible for the trickle of sweat down the back of his neck.

If Tom had been real, Harry would be dead. But since Tom wasn’t real, he’d never been so grateful to be alive and leaned in.

As their lips were about to meet, a harsh cackle echoed throughout the locker room.

“Is this why you keep sneaking off, Potter, so no one will know you talk to yourself?”

Tom whirled around with a snarl and even Harry felt a surge of anger as Malfoy appeared around the corner to lean casually against a row of lockers.

“Piss off, Malfoy. I don’t have time for you.”

The blond’s eyes narrowed at the notion the he, a Malfoy, wasn’t worth Harry’s bother. “But you have time to hold lengthy conversations with the voices inside your head? It’s a wonder they haven’t had you committed.”

“No arguments there,” Harry muttered. “But if it’s any consolation, I’m not talking to myself. I’m talking to your lord and master. Remember him?”

Malfoy’s already pale skin grew a couple shades paler as his eyes shot daggers at Harry. “That’s not funny, Potter.”

Harry sighed and shook his head. “No, you’re right, it isn’t. I’m sorry.”

In a last ditch attempt to boost his power, Voldemort had tried to take over Malfoy’s body, remaining there long enough for the blond to be an unwilling accomplice for several murders before they were able to free him. Draco had been catatonic for days, and some feared (or hoped) that he might never snap out of it. Harry had been the one to rescue him yet again, and though the blond gave no outwardly appearance of having been affected by the ordeal, Harry knew Draco continued to suffer. He’d often come across Malfoy wandering the halls at night, unable to sleep because of the nightmarish images that plagued his dreams.

But that didn’t mean Harry liked him any better. Turning his back on the Slytherin, he began stripping off his practice robes.

“I don’t like the way he’s looking at you,” Tom said, and Harry glanced up at him in surprise. The ghost’s eyes met his as Tom answered the unasked question. “He looks like he wants to eat you alive.”

“Probably literally,” Harry snorted as he grabbed a shirt from his locker.

“No,” his invisible companion said thoughtfully, studying the intruder once more. “As if he wants to throw you on the floor and do things to you.”

Harry arched an eyebrow at this. “Things?”

Tom met his gaze and nodded. “Things.”

Unable to resist, as he was pulling on his jeans, Harry sneaked a peek at Malfoy and couldn’t miss the hungry way the silver eyes seemed to be watching him. He quickly stood up and growled at the Slytherin.

“What is it, Malfoy? What do you want? What are you even doing here?”

Realizing he’d been caught, Draco quickly regained his composure. “I was just out for a stroll and noticed how odd it was that the Boy Who Lives to Continue to Irritate the Shit Out of Me seems to have lost his mind. Pity. The wizarding world will never recover to see their hero fall in such an undignified manner.”

“They’ll get over it,” Harry shrugged and headed out the door, glancing behind him only once to make sure that Tom was following. The ghost was following, all right, and looked as if he was about to use his invisible foot to kick Malfoy in the arse.

“Just don’t miss,” he muttered approvingly under his breath, winking at Tom, who grinned back.

“Did you just wink at me?!” Malfoy demanded, eyes flashing with indignation and Harry looked over his shoulder at him.

“Yes, I did. And in a few seconds, I’m going to try and stick my tongue down your throat. After that, I’ll rip all your clothes off and fuck you into the ground, so unless you brought some lube with you--because I sure didn’t--you’d be wise to leave me alone.”

Much to Harry’s consternation, for a split second, Malfoy looked tempted by Harry’s offer and the dark-haired wizard was momentarily overwhelmed by a series of images of him and Draco in decidedly compromising positions. But then Malfoy’s face fell into a comfortable sneer and Harry breathed a silent sigh of relief. He didn’t know where those images came from, and he was in no mood to find out now.

“You wouldn’t dare touch me.”

“We’ve already discussed the fact that I’m mentally unbalanced. You really want to push your luck?”

Again, there was that moment of doubt in Malfoy’s face and Harry turned around, walking quickly towards the castle before he considered actually going through with his threat. Malfoy was pretty to look at, he supposed, but even the blond’s cantankerous comments weren’t enough to keep his interest these days. It was all just too familiar. They knew each other too well. Tom, on the other hand, was a mystery, just as Harry was a mystery to the translucent young man who walked quietly at his side. They weren’t enemies or heroes. They hadn’t saved the world or helped to try and destroy it. They were just two people whose paths happened to cross.

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t quite as normal as he made it sound, but in his life, Harry had a feeling this was about as normal as he could hope to get.

The second he was positive Malfoy could no longer see him, Harry wrapped his arms around Tom and kissed him. It was a sloppy, harsh, needy sort of kiss, with clashing teeth and uncertain tongues, truly terrible for their first, but it left Harry feeling oddly content.

Tom broke away, blue eyes studying Harry’s face until he apparently found what he was looking for. With a brilliant smile, he moved in for another kiss, the second being decidedly better than their first and paving the way for several more.



[Chapter 3 completed September 17, 2004]