Memory\'s Ghost

It was near one in the morning by the time Harry and Draco returned to Hogwarts, the two separating in the main hall without so much as a final word. After all they’d done, what was left to say?

Without once looking back, the Boy Who Lived trudged along the well-known path to Gryffindor Tower. Finding he lacked even the energy to climb the stairs to his dorm, he barely made it to the sofa in the common room before collapsing.

“Fuck,” he moaned as he pulled himself onto the cushions, then shuddered. Wrong choice of words. ‘Bugger’ was also out. Suck, screw, bite, blow--all permeations having to do with sex were not to be mentioned. Most slang was, in fact, unwelcome, and would remain so until he had managed to repress that night.

Though he couldn’t deny his visions of the other Draco were nothing compared to the real thing. The real thing was. . . words couldn’t begin to describe him, and as for everything they’d done together. . . he’d never look at sex the same way again. He wasn’t sure he wanted to since he was positive that any mention of sex would send him running to bury his head under the sand for at least a week. And there was no way he was going to get his cock to show a spark of life for possibly that long, if not longer. Seven hours with Draco may very well have ruined sex for him for the rest of his life.

“Harry?”

“Uhhhnn. . .” he groaned, trying to turn his head to look at the voice.

“Harry, is that you?”

“It used to be.”

“Oh, Harry, it is you! I’ve been so worried! I’ve searched through every room of the castle trying to find you. I almost even went into Hogsmeade, but I think I used up too much energy and I started to fade. Are you all right? Where have you been?”

Harry tried not to cringe from the chilly affections of the ghost as Tom wrapped his arms around him. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to touch Tom, but after everything he’d just done, the betrayal he knew he’d committed, he didn’t want to sully the ghost with his touch.

“I’m fine,” he said, forcing himself not to pull away. “I’m sorry I made you worry.”

“Where were you? Were you in trouble?”

“No, nothing like that. There was something I had to do,” he said in a tone that implied Tom should just drop the subject.

“Oh. Okay.”

Tom slowly withdrew his arms and Harry sighed, trying to relieve the mountain of guilt that had settled on his chest. It was a fruitless gesture. Nothing was going to ease the heaviness in his heart until he admitted the truth.

“Tom, I don’t want to lie to you,” he said, lifting his head to meet the blue eyes. “I was with Malfoy.”

The blue eyes flashed red for a second. “Malfoy? You know how I feel about him. You know we can’t trust him!”

“In order to keep him quiet about what happened the other night, I had to do a few chores for him. I didn’t want to,” he said, reaching for Tom, but the ghost pulled away and Harry could only grab his hand. “You have to understand, I couldn’t risk him telling anyone about you. If anything happened to you. . . I’m not even going to finish that thought, because I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I will do anything I can to protect you, even if it means being Malfoy’s servant for an evening.”

Okay, it wasn’t entirely the truth, but it wasn’t entirely a lie either. But the best thing was that it seemed to be working. Tom’s blue eyes reluctantly slid over to meet his, and Harry smiled.

“I love you,” he said, squeezing the ghost’s hand. “I would do anything for you, you know that.”

“Even promise never to see Malfoy again? No matter what he knows?”

“If that’s what it will take to make you happy, then I promise I will never see him again. I don’t care what he knows, or what he thinks he knows. I don’t care if he does tell anyone because no one will ever be able to separate us.”

“Harry!” Tom grinned, throwing his arms around the wizard. “I’m so sorry I didn’t trust you.”

“No, Tom, this is my fault. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, and I feel terrible that I made you worry. Come on,” he said, scooting over as far as he could against the back of the sofa. “I think there’s almost enough room for the both of us if we lie really close together.”

Smiling, Tom stretched out next to him, Harry keeping his arms and a leg around the ghost to make sure he didn’t fall off, or at least, that was what he told himself.

“You’re really getting better at this solid thing,” he murmured sleepily into the ghost’s dark hair.

“I have reason to practice.”

“We’ll find a way to make it permanent, I promise.”

“I know you will,” Tom said as Harry’s breathing evened out and he drifted off to sleep. The ghost stayed in Harry’s arms for as long as possible, then his form began to waver. With a sigh, the ghost gave in and vanished from sight, the only sign of his presence being the occasional red glow where his eyes would have been.



Harry studiously avoided Draco for the next few days, but it didn’t seem to matter as the Slytherin did nothing to seek him out. In fact, Draco treated Harry in exactly the same manner as he always did, so much so that the Gryffindor was beginning to wonder whether anything had happened between them at all.

At least until they were sitting next to each other in Potions one day and a single finger was drawn along the entire length of his thigh.

Harry was so hard, so fast, he nearly fell off his stool. While not a single muscle in Draco’s face moved, the silver eyes not even blinking, Harry could sense Malfoy’s satisfaction and tried to ignore him. He couldn’t let the Slytherin know what sort of effect he had over him, and he especially couldn’t let Tom know. If the ghost even once suspected what he and Malfoy had done, Harry knew Tom had at least half a dozen ideas about what he’d like to do to Draco.

And the ghost was reaching the point in his abilities where he’d be capable of performing all of them.

“Harry? What about this one?”

Harry paused in his reading as he leaned towards Tom. “Which one?”

He and Tom had been spending all their spare hours in the library researching ways to make the ghost real. So far, none of the spells they’d found and tried had worked--neither Dark nor Light. Harry didn’t know if it was because of Tom’s unique nature, or if they simply hadn’t tried the right spell, but he wasn’t going to give up.

He did wish he could ask Hermione for advice, but he knew she’d want to know the reason, and she was too smart for him to try and bluff her into helping. They would just have to do this on their own.

Harry glanced at the spell Tom was pointing out and shook his head. “No, that won’t work. We’d need a physical piece of you, like a hair or a fingernail.”

“And since I don’t have a body, and we don’t know where mine is. . .”

“Exactly,” Harry said, quickly busying himself flipping through pages. He knew where Voldemort’s body was, or what was left of it. It had been pretty much demolished during the Final Stand. Perhaps a few smoking, smoldering cells might remain, but Harry doubted it. No one had wanted to risk letting even a single cell remain in case someone wanted to try and bring Voldemort back.

Though considering Tom’s presence, the Order’s plan clearly hadn’t worked. Voldemort’s determination to stick around lasted beyond all their expectations, and considering how many times he’d been forced to kill him, Harry had expected his determination to be great. Of course, that led to another problem. If he did somehow find a way to make Tom solid, what would the reaction be? Would the Order try to kill him again?

Harry reached out and grabbed onto Tom’s hand, squeezing it hard. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to the ghost, no matter where he came from.

Tom looked up at him, curious at the sudden touch, and Harry smiled. Leaning over, he stole a quick kiss, and the ghost blushed.

“What was that for?”

“Just wanted to,” Harry smiled.

“Well, the next time the urge comes over you, please feel free to indulge it.”

“And the same goes for you.”

Tom grinned, then leaned over to steal back the kiss. “You know, this research thing isn’t quite as tedious as I thought it was.”

“Anything I can do to help pass the time.”

“But not too much time. That’s why we’re here, after all, so we can do anything.”

“It’ll happen soon enough,” Harry assured him. “We just need to find the right spell.”

The ghost’s eyes glowed with adoration as he gazed on Harry. “I love that you’re not giving up on me. Thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome,” Harry smiled, stealing one last kiss before returning to his book. He didn’t even have time to find his place again before a voice interrupted him.

“Potter, didn’t anyone ever tell you that seventeen is far too old an age to develop an imaginary friend?”

“Malfoy!” Harry stared up at him in alarm as Tom’s body immediately tensed, his blue eyes glowing red. “What are you doing here?”

“The library doesn’t belong to you, Potter,” Malfoy said, leaning casually against a bookcase. “It’s public property, meaning I am free to come and go as I please.”

“Because private property ever stopped you from coming and going as you pleased?”

“You’re right,” Malfoy said as his silver gaze raked over Harry’s body, turning the Gryffindor’s cheeks a bright red, “private property has always been a favorite of mine. There’s nothing like a good trespass, don’t you think?”

Harry glanced over at Tom, who was growing more angry by the second. “Malfoy, I really think you should leave.”

The Slytherin walked over and sat down on the table next to Harry, his leg just touching the back of the Gryffindor’s hand clenched tightly around the edge of a book.

“Are you sure that’s what you want, Harry?” he asked, his voice low, full of suggestion, and Harry’s mind filled with images in response to the question, images of the other Draco.

Closing his eyes, he could feel the long hair brushing his chest as Draco lay in bed next to him. He could see the aristocratic face warming with laughter as they played in the snow, could sense his own triumph as a snowball scattered against Draco’s shoulder. He could picture walking through the magnificent rooms of the Manor to come upon Draco lounging elegantly in a chair, seemingly lost in a book. He could just stand there and watch him forever, never growing tired of the sight.

“Who are you?” he whispered and felt something cold pass through him. His eyes flying open, Harry reached for the ghost. “Tom, no!”

Draco’s face grew pale and twisted with pain as cold fingers wrapped around his heart.

“TOM!” Harry shouted, grasping onto the ghost’s shoulders and trying to pull him away. “Stop it! You’re hurting him!”

“Not hurting, Harry, killing. I’m killing him.”

“You can’t! He hasn’t done anything to you. This is not who you are, Tom, not anymore! Let him go!”

The blue eyes met his with confusion. “What are you saying, Harry?”

“I’ll explain, I promise, just please let him go.”

The ghost’s face hardened. “I don’t like him.”

“Love, you’re at the end of a very long line when it comes to people who don’t like him, but no one’s killed him because of it. Please, don’t do this. Let him go. For me.”

Tom’s expression wavered as he looked between Harry and his victim, and he slowly withdrew his hand from Draco’s heart. Heaving a sigh of relief as the Slytherin collapsed to the ground, Harry knelt down next to the gasping man.

“Malfoy? Are you all right?”

One hand on his chest over his heart, Draco pushed Harry away. Using the table for support, he clumsily dragged himself to his feet, his face filled with pain and betrayal.

“Potter, what have you done?”

“Draco, it was an accident, I swear,” he said pleadingly, reaching for the Slytherin only to have his hand slapped away.

“You fucked-up little Gryffindor! Did you think I wouldn’t recognize him, having felt his touch before?” Draco shouted, glaring at the ghost who stood defiantly behind Harry, glaring back at Draco. “Knowing what he’s done to you, to me, to everyone you’ve ever loved, to complete strangers, to innocents the world over, you would resurrect him? You would protect him?!”

“It’s not what you think--”

“The hell it isn’t,” Draco snarled, pushing Harry out of the way as he moved towards the ghost. “What did you do to him? What do you want with him? Why can’t you just leave us alone?”

“I love him,” Tom growled, “and he loves me. We’re going to find a way to be together, even if it means going through you.”

“I will die before I let you near me.”

The ghost smirked. “It’s a little late.”

“What are you. . .” Draco’s eyes widened as he turned on Harry. “The other night when we. . . you let him take me? You let him fuck you? You’re even sicker than I thought.”

Harry looked him in the eyes, guilt written plainly across his face. “I’m sorry about that, I am. We didn’t know what happened. He just absorbed into you, but Draco, you have to believe me, he’s not the same. He’s different. He’s not Voldemort!”

“Can’t you see that’s just what he wants you to believe, Harry?” Draco shouted, raising his hands as if to hit the other wizard, his fists shaking with the urge to pound some sense into him. “He’s using you to be real again, and then what do you think will happen? He’ll kill us all! He’ll destroy everything! You’ve got to stop him now, before it’s too late!”

“I can’t! Draco, you have to understand! He isn’t Voldemort!”

“Goddamnit, Potter! You can’t save everyone! If you won’t stop him, then I will.”

Draco pulled out his wand and pointed it at the ghost. Harry jumped between them, keeping the ghost behind his back.

“Draco, I can’t let you do this.”

“Get out of the way, Potter,” he spat, his wand unwavering. “I will not let him win!”

“Please don’t let him kill me, Harry,” Tom said softly into his ear. “I don’t want to die.”

“No one’s dying,” Harry growled, his eyes on Malfoy. “No one.”

“He won’t hurt you,” Tom said, his hands moving down Harry’s sides to rest on his hips. “Let me in, for just long enough to get out of here, and then we can go someplace safe.”

Harry was too shocked at the suggestion to even speak, then he slowly turned his head to look at Tom. “What?”

“Like I did with him. Just let me in, and we can escape.”

“But. . . you don’t need me to escape,” Harry said, shaking his head. “Just disappear. Go.”

“I’m not going to leave you with him. I don’t trust him.”

Malfoy’s lips curled into a sneer. “I told you, Harry, he’s the same. It’s not me he’s after--it’s you. It’s always you. Now get out of the way so I get rid of him!”

Still staring at Tom, Harry shifted, ready to move, but the ghost just tightened his grip. “Harry, I love you. I’d never hurt you! Just let me in for a second and we’ll be free.”

But it was too late. At Tom’s insistence on possession, the spell had been broken, the delusion Harry had been creating for himself demolished.

“No,” Harry whispered. “No! Draco’s right. You are him! You always have been--you always will be. And you have to be destroyed.”

“Please, Harry,” Tom said, his eyes filling with panic. “It’s not what you think. I’m not the one we need to fear.”

At his words, laughter filled the room, but this time it seemed to come from all directions. The ghost wrapped his arms around Harry, eyes darting wildly as the library began to fade--the books, the shelves, the table, the chairs, even Draco, all vanished. Harry and Tom found themselves standing in the middle of a cave, laughter bouncing off the crystal walls.

“Do you know how many times I’ve regretted not killing that Malfoy brat? If I’d known what a nuisance he was going to be, I’d have had Lucius break his neck as a child.”

“Who are you? What have you done with Draco?” Harry shouted as Tom shivered behind him.

“He doesn’t exist, Harry,” the voice answered. “None of them do. It’s just you, and me.”

Harry’s eyes grew wide as a man stepped in front of him, a man with smooth scaly skin and glowing red eyes. Tom buried his face in Harry’s shoulder, clinging to him, and Harry held him back, afraid if he let go, Tom would also disappear and he’d be left alone with Voldemort.


[Chapter 6 completed September 26, 2004]