Myrtle\'s Secret

I suppose it’s wrong of me, but how can I stop? I never even kissed a boy before I died. Now that I am but a ghost, I cannot experience love in the physical form. I have to find some way to satisfy my unresolved lust.

He comes in early, before anyone else does. I suppose he likes to be alone. Privacy is a rare and wonderful commodity when one lives in a school. He makes quite a show of undressing himself. Most boys just throw their clothes on the ground, but Draco carefully folds his pyjamas (which are usually silk) and sets them on the bench with utmost care.

He walks slowly and languidly to the large bath that the prefects share and turns on the faucet as hot as it will allow. I swear, the boy has more grooming products and tools than all of the students at Hogwarts combined. (Yes, that includes the girls.) He adds the bath salts and bubbles first, and lays out all the other products he uses on the edge of the tub.

By this time, the bath is full, and he climbs in slowly, getting used to the steaming water. When he is finally in, he sits back and closes his eyes for a few minutes. He looks so beautiful and peaceful; it is hard to believe the things people say about him. Apparently he is the meanest, snobbiest git in the entire school. But I don’t see him that way. In the early hours of the morning, he’s just Draco. My Draco.

I almost forget that he thinks he’s alone sometimes, and nearly give myself away with a noise, or I start to come out of the shadowy corner where he can’t see me. It is hard to control a lust that cannot be satisfied. I have no physical form. I cannot feel the touch of another being and no one can feel mine, save the cold sense of death that follows me. It was bad enough before I died. No one ever wanted me then either. And now there’s no hope of anyone ever wanting me.

Draco always washes his hair first; that beautiful white blonde hair that I love. When it is wet it shines and glistens like the sun. How I wish I could touch it. I imagine that it feels like silk, but it has been so long since I could feel anything, I probably wouldn’t know.

Oh, how I love to watch him bathe. His skin is so pale and smooth, with just a sprinkling of light hair. He looks almost elfin, so pure and fair. The other boys are so rough looking compared to him.

I think I am the only one who gets to see him this way. When he is with other people, he is completely different. But here, he is at peace. The Malfoy part of him is somewhere else, and he can be Draco. Just Draco.

Sometimes, when I am lucky, he pleasures himself in the water. What a beautiful sight it is! He throws his head back and closes his eyes when he orgasms, and lets out the smallest gasping moan. His seed appears as a silver thread in the water, which he cleans with a spell after taking a moment to rest.

I often wonder who he is thinking about when he fantasizes. I pretend that it is me, that I was alive, and I am back at Hogwarts. Through all the years I’ve been dead I’ve seen so many students come and go, growing up in the process. But I remain the same. My Draco will grow older, and I will be stuck in the transparent and unfeeling body of a little girl while my mind will never cease to mature.

I wish that I could smell the soap he uses. It has a light red color that reminds me of cinnamon. He uses quite a generous amount of it, and works it into a foamy lather before washing himself. Every inch of his body is beautiful. I cannot find one imperfection.

When he is finished, he climbs out of the bath and I can see the water glistening on his skin like morning dew. The steam filling the room gives him an angelic quality.

He dries off slowly and puts on a robe before gathering his things. I am always sad to see him go, because every day means one day closer to the end of his schooling at Hogwarts. I will miss him when he is gone. Other boys will come and go, but none of them could ever hold a candle to my Draco.

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