Sweet Necromancy

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or his friends. I make no money from this story.
Warnings: Het, chan, necrophilia (Myrtle is and remains DEAD throughout), blood magic, dark arts and wild sex with an emo ghost.
Pairing: Draco/Myrtle and implied Draco/Pansy.
Summary: Draco has a special gift for Myrtle on Halloween, and he gets more than he bargained for.

A blonde figure made his way up the staircase to the seventh floor landing, creeping as silently as he could before he moved in the direction of his destination. Draco's legs ached from the effort and strain of moving so slowly. Draco was tired. He'd been up long nights working on the special project that his father had given him; he was tired from his regular class workload, and even more tired of all the attention and expectations. He sighed and briefly wished for the normal life that he was never entitled to, because of his station and his breeding. And besides, who would want to be that common, anyway? He tested the weight of the brown parcel under his right arm. It hurt to carry it so, but anything more comfortable might also be more conspicuous. It was bad enough that he was carrying what appeared to be a shopping bag from a Hogsmeade store in his other hand.

Unbidden, Draco's thoughts turned to Pansy. Pansy Parkinson, willing and pliable, Draco’s accessory here at Hogwart's. She was his accomplice, his lover and his partner in crime. He wasn't doing this tonight because she didn't satisfy, because she did – but Draco knew that her mind was always somewhere else; intrigued with power, fashion, station, and whatever would piss off the Gryffindors the most. She was always more concerned with some selfish end that made her heart blind to Draco's suffering.

He winced at that. She'd been a willing partner in anything he'd ever asked her to do, but there was just something missing, and while she satisfied, he had just left been left wanting more. That was why he was in this corridor tonight.

Draco looked up and down the hall to make sure that no one was watching. Nearly everyone was down at the Halloween Feast anyhow. This was the only night he could do this, and he hoped that his rendezvous would be here.

He sighed, and he hoped that she would be interested in what he had to offer. He hoped she would be willing. Her compliance was a crucial component of his plans, and he'd never had to worry about that sort of thing before. The thought simultaneously thrilled him and filled him with anger... who would turn down the great Draco Malfoy, after all? His subject would only be willing if she were interested in him enough to make the sacrifices that it would take to make the magic work. Draco shuddered at the thought, and the sacrifice, and he wasn't looking forward to what he would have to do. He steeled himself against the deed. He had to know.

Draco took a deep breath and stepped into corridor, right across from the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy.

"Myrtle? Myrtle, are you here?" Draco called out, looking around. He wondered if she'd forgotten - he didn't know much about the minds of ghosts, and he hoped to Merlin that she hadn't forgotten, because he'd gone through a lot of trouble to acquire the things he'd need.

"Myrtle!" Draco called again. "Myrtle, are you here?"

Moaning Myrtle suddenly materialized in front of Draco. Draco was taken aback, but he held his ground.

"Myrtle, there you are. Well, I wasn't waiting long." Draco was trying to sound irritated, but he was relieved to see her.

Myrtle regarded Draco with what looked like contempt, and he bristled. "Well, I wouldn't want to keep the great Draco Malfoy waiting," she said. "Oh, Draco, what do you have there? What are those things? Did you get me Halloween presents?" Her delight turned to a scowl. "You know I can't touch them. Are you trying to torture me?" she asked petulantly.

Draco smiled and said, "No, not at all, Myrtle. Come on, let’s go in.”

“Go in where?”

“Into the Room of Requirement, of course. That’s why I asked you to meet me here.” Draco turned and said, "Come on then, Myrtle," giving her a come-hither grin.

Myrtle's petulant stare quickly turned to curiosity and Draco could see her interest was piqued. She was clearly wondering what he was up to. If Myrtle could breathe, she would have sighed heavily. She had to settle for frowning at him.

"Fine, but this had better not be a prank. I've had enough of those played on me, alive or dead."

"I assure you, it's not a prank. Come on." Draco insisted, walking a few steps down the hallway with Myrtle in tow.

Draco paced in front of the Room of Requirement, concentrating on its contents, and on the third pass the door formed in front of him.

Myrtle looked impressed. "You're getting better at that," she observed. Draco tried not to look smug.

"I've had a lot of practice this year," Draco replied curtly, and his brow furrowed. Draco was certain that Myrtle didn't know why and he meant to keep it that way.

Draco opened the door into the Room of Requirement and took pleasure in the look on Myrtle's glowing face. He knew she had no idea what to expect, but he could tell from her shocked expression that she wasn't expecting to see the room as it looked now.

Soft light from a fireplace and several floating candles illuminated a four poster canopy bed, made of a rich, dark wood that Draco recognized as mahogany. The large bed was adorned in plush red curtains and matching bed sheets. A small table crafted from the same wood sat beside the bed, near the head. The smell of sweet incense filled the room, lilacs and a hint of dust.

Myrtle looked at Draco strangely. "What are you planning to do with that?" she accused, pointing at the bed.

"Come on, you'll see."

Draco entered the room and Myrtle floated after him. Draco stopped to close the door and cast a complex locking charm and a silencing charm before moving towards the bed. The Halloween Feast was in full swing and he wasn't expecting to be interrupted, but he could never be too sure. Draco was a little sorry he was missing the feast but this was more important. And if this worked, really worked, like the book said it did, it would be even more useful in other ways... and Draco wanted to test the magic he had planned in a pleasant way before he tested the harsher aspects of it.

Draco set the small shopping bag on the bedside table, and he pulled an hourglass out of it and set it next to the bag. Draco then drew his wand and unhooked his school robes, letting them drop to the floor.

Myrtle smirked at him. "Are you planning on taking a nap while I watch?" she asked. Draco glared at her, annoyed by her impatience.

"No, please, Myrtle, just watch."

Draco set the parcel down in the middle of the rich red sheets and stood beside the bed. Draco unwrapped the parcel to reveal a dark wooden box. Draco opened it and then reached into the box, withdrawing a silver tin, about the size of a jar of marmalade. As Myrtle watched, fascinated, Draco opened the tin, took a few steps away from the bed, and began pouring out the dusty contents in a circle around the bed and the bedside table, being careful to stay inside it.

"What is that?" Myrtle asked, and she seemed confused.

"It's dirt." He said simply, stopping for a moment to answer her. "From your grave."

Myrtle seemed to freeze; her translucent shape flickered as Draco glanced up at her from his task.

Draco finished marking the circle and then clambered onto the bed, in-between the headboard and the parcel, so that his back was to the pile of soft red pillows. Draco placed his wand on the bed next to the box and motioned for Myrtle to approach, and she did. She didn’t bother to pantomime sitting on the bed, she stood in the middle of it with her torso sticking out of it on the opposite side of Draco's parcel. Myrtle peered in the box curiously.

Draco began pulling items out of the box and Myrtle gasped, as if she recognized them. Draco wondered if she had some innate feeling for what was to come, since it so intimately involved her.

"Draco," she asked her voice cold and tinged with fear, "what is this?" He knew that she hadn't been asking about the box, or the dirt, but what he was doing.

"It's a ritual." He pulled a large splinter of wood out of the box. "This is from a tree that grows in the graveyard where you're buried." he explained. Myrtle's eyes got wider.

Myrtle looked horrified. "No... No, Draco, what are you doing?" She asked as if she already knew.

Draco figured that Myrtle probably did know, as soon as she saw the first component, but that she didn't want to believe it. She seemed to believe it now. Myrtle's eyes were as large as saucers now, pleading.

"Draco..." Myrtle's voice trailed off, and she sounded scared. Draco had never heard that tone from her - it was petulant, or whiny, sometimes even soothing, but never afraid. He tried not to smile. If she didn't know for sure what he was about to do, Draco considered the possibility that she'd heard of such magics from other ghosts, which left him wondering if she knew what the purpose of this was.

"No." Myrtle's voice was an unsteady whisper. "You didn't bring this here... please... this is Necromancy, you don’t want to do this..."

"You're wrong. I do want to do this, Myrtle." Draco replied calmly.

"But WHY!?" She shrieked, angry and pleading. "Why would you want to torture me? Haven't I suffered enough?!"

Draco couldn't help it anymore, and he started laughing. If only she knew.

Myrtle looked at him severely. "This isn't funny! I've heard of such magics from the other ghosts! I've heard the other ghosts whisper of forbidden rites, of wizards and witches who dare to meddle with the spirits of the dead, who tamper with the skein of death itself, seeking to unravel it and weave it for themselves, but such magics only bring ruin!" she shrieked.

It was a scare tactic, and Draco was not moved. Myrtle looked beside herself with worry and fear.

"But why? I don't even know why I'm still here, watching you now that I know what you're up to." Myrtle sobbed.

"If you know what I'm doing, you also know that it's already too late to escape." he said, gesturing at the ring of grave dirt around the bed. Draco knew that she could feel the power in these objects.

Draco withdrew a small chip of stone from the box, and then he pushed the box off of the bed, away from the door, where it landed on the stone floor with a loud thunk.

"This," he said, holding the sliver of marble so that Myrtle could see it, "is a chip off of your headstone." Draco regarded Myrtle now, whose ghostly features flashed with worry and fear. "I didn't know your full name until I went to your grave."

"You went there personally?" Myrtle asked, incredulously. "You didn’t send one of your lackeys to do it for you?" She was trying to be brave, and Draco wondered why, but then he reckoned that the other ghosts had only known about the negative aspects of this ritual. Myrtle was in for a surprise indeed.

"Myrtle," Draco said in a serious tone. "Myrtle Anne Sullivan, that was your full name, wasn’t it?"

"It still is," Myrtle replied defiantly, nodding. "You found that out, did you, when you went to the graveyard?"

Draco didn't know if it was masochism, or curiosity, or some heretofore unknown devotion to him that made Myrtle stay. She hadn't tried to flee once she'd seen the dirt hitting the floor. She stood in the middle of the bed, glaring at him, and even though he knew that she could feel the power of this act, she had stayed.

Draco took the splinter of wood in his right hand and began to speak the words of the spell. They were strange words, old words, older than the words that they used for their everyday magic, and he'd had difficulty memorizing them, but now that everything was in place, they seemed to flow more easily.

Draco had found this ritual in a very old book in his father's study. It was a ritual for compelling a ghost to take a physical form for three hours, with the intent of torturing that ghost to get information. It's difficult to compel ghosts to obey, or to speak the truth. Ghosts have no physical bodies to wound, and even your magical threats are meaningless when the magics wear off eventually. Pain, real pain, is something anyone, alive or dead, can understand. When he'd read this ritual, he'd understood the practical applications of it, and had also grasped its other, seemingly unintended, effects.

Draco looked up at a silent, yet defiant, Myrtle as he spoke the final words of the spell. She was shaking and she looked wounded.

"I have all the components in place, and I'm ready to begin. Are you ready?" Myrtle nodded defiantly, and looked quite the martyr. Perhaps that was the attraction for her.

"I just want to know why. Why are you doing this?" Myrtle asked, her voice shrill and filled with anguish.

Draco said, "I need to ask you something, and I need to know the truth. Myrtle, please-" He felt the pain in her voice, the look in her translucent eyes, and he nearly wanted to tell her.

"Go ahead then, if you think you need this torture to get the truth out of me!" She spat. "I probably would have told you anyways, but since you're so cruel and heartless you saw fit to bring this dark magic here. I consoled you, I tried to make you feel better and this is how you reward me! Go ahead and do your worst then, Draco Malfoy, I won't run."

Draco smiled. That’s all I needed.

"Myrtle," Draco commanded, "float up here and pretend to sit on the bed across from me." She glowered at him, but she complied.

Draco took up the chipped piece of headstone in his left hand and suddenly leaned forwards to place it on the bed in the ghostly space that Myrtle's body occupied, and she gasped as though she felt it. Draco was more surprised than he would have liked to let on, and he watched in amazement as white sparks of energy emanated from the jagged piece of stone and coursed upwards and outwards through Myrtles ghostly form. Myrtle gasped again and her translucent body flickered and pulsed.

Myrtle hissed sharply and moaned, and looked amazed. "That- oh- Draco..." Myrtle pitched forwards.

"Now," Draco began as he took up the splinter of wood in his right hand, "this is supposed to be painful, so if I cry out, don't let it trouble you." he said, looking up at Myrtle. She managed to sneer at him unsympathetically, in spite of the energies surging through her immaterial form.

Draco then held out his left hand and spoke the final words of the spell, and drove the splinter of wood into his left palm. He hissed at the pain in his left hand and took up his wand in his right, thrusting his bleeding hand into Myrtle's immaterial form, which elicited a cry of shock from her. Draco bled on the gravestone sliver, withdrew his bleeding hand and concentrated with his wand, willing the magic to work.

"By my blood, bring this spirit across the Shroud." Draco gritted out through the pain.

"Draco, what is...? Ooooh!" Myrtle began to writhe in pain, and Draco reached out to steady her, for it looked to him like she was going to pitch off of the bed. Draco's left hand was still slick with the blood of his wound, but he still caught her wrist and prevented her from falling. His wand was still in his hand, and he now pointed it at the hourglass on the bedside table. Sand began to fall.

He caught her wrist. He could touch her! It was working!

He knew he was going to pay dearly for this, but he didn't care.

"Draco... You’re touching me..."

She writhed and gasped as her body became solid, right before Draco’s eyes. The translucency of her ghostly form pooled and collected shape and there she sat, Moaning Myrtle, once dead and almost alive again. Almost.

Myrtle looked at Draco in almost reverent amazement, and then looked down at her flesh for the first time in well over fifty years, holding up her hands, and looking down at her arms and her legs, bringing hands up to touch her face.

Draco pulled a potion out of his shirt pocked and poured it onto the wound in his hand, and it began to close. He looked up from his wound to see that Myrtle was shaking and her face was a mask of many different expressions - shock, fear, revulsion, elation - all mixed together. Suddenly she clutched her chest and grimaced.

"Draco, it hurts. I'm on fire." Myrtle choked, grasping at her blouse.

"Here," Draco said, pulling another potion from a trouser pocket and taking the stopper out. "Drink this; the pain will subside more quickly." Myrtle nodded weakly and took the bottle, struggling to down the potion, not having swallowed for so long. Myrtle wrinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue after.

"Oh Draco, that stuff is revolting!" she complained, "but I can taste it!" Tears suddenly sprung to Myrtle's eyes. "I'm crying!" she said, almost sounding elated. "Oh sweet Merlin, Draco, its working!" Suddenly Myrtle's face twisted to reflect her anger again, her dark eyes boring into Draco's.

"You did this to me to torture me for something, some information that I would have told you anyways!" Myrtle accused.

Draco shook his head. "No, Myrtle, no, I didn't. You had to believe that and still be willing to go through with it. Do you trust me, Myrtle?"

She nodded immediately. "Yes, of course, but if you're not going to torture me, then what is the meaning of-"

Draco leaned forward suddenly and kissed Myrtle, and her eyes got wide. Draco could taste the bitter tang of the calming potion on her lips, and also death and surprise and excitement all mingled together. Their tongues found each other quickly and Myrtle's was cold, but Draco was determined to warm her up. Her breath was cold, her lips were cold, and Draco wondered how long it would take to warm her back up to normal - and then some.

She had closed her eyes, but now she opened them again as she moved her head away from him, breaking the kiss, and regarded him with her large bespectacled eyes. She looked positively dreamy. Her face was not unpleasant to look at this close up. Draco wondered whether her perceived self image was just an exaggerated self-loathing, or this new unblemished countenance was an effect of the ritual. Whatever the effect, Myrtle was not ugly.

"Oh. OH. Draco, this is what you wanted to-"

Draco nodded quickly. "Yes. Myrtle," he began. "Oh Myrtle, you've been such a good shoulder to cry on this year. I've been under so much pressure and I've had no one to talk to but you. I'm going to do something awful pretty soon, and I just wanted one chance to show you how much I appreciate that you just listened, and didn't judge or anything, that you just, listened..."

Myrtle sniffed. "Doesn't your girlfriend listen to you?"

Draco shook his head, and he spoke as he leaned over to place his wand on the bedside table. "She listens to orders. She has no sympathy, only plans. She doesn't really care about me. I'm just a rung on the social ladder in her climb towards fortune and station and pureblood dominance."

Myrtle looked dejected, and she changed the subject. "You went to the graveyard, and you saw my grave. Was there anything there? Were there any flowers there?"

Draco nodded. "I put some there."

Myrtle's eyes welled up and before he could react, it was Draco's turn to be kissed suddenly. Myrtle's mouth was hungry and chill, inexperienced and desperate, and completely arousing. Myrtle moved closer to Draco on the bed and put her hands on his shoulders, touching him lightly. Myrtle's hands moved down and she moved away again, looking at him as she touched Draco. He allowed it, watching her hands as they ran over his chest and down to his waist, and over his thighs.

Draco stood still as Myrtle indulged her curiosity about his body. It was so strange, and so powerful and amazing. The magic had worked - the way that he had predicted, and it made him feel very smug and happy.

Myrtle cupped Draco's cheek and she looked at him with her dark eyes, and he saw her fear and excitement. Myrtle knew what kind of person Draco was, and he knew that she had already guessed where this was going. But it left Draco wondering something else.

“Myrtle,” he said, grinning, “When you saw that the room wasn’t a torture chamber and that the only feature was a nice, cozy bed, what did you think I wanted?”

Myrtle smiled a coy little smile but said nothing, and put her arms around his waist, pulling him closer. He did the same, holding her around the waist as she leaned in for another kiss, and Draco returned it, eagerly. Even though Draco preferred to be in control, he was letting Myrtle go at her pace, so she wouldn’t get frightened. This thing was only going to last three hours, and he didn’t want anything to go wrong... girls could be so fickle sometimes; even girls that had been dead for fifty years, who are now suddenly flesh once more.

Draco started to tug suggestively on Myrtle's school uniform, which had come across with her when the ritual had made her flesh again. It felt old and it smelled strange, but Draco knew the smell. It was the grave. It was everything from the other side of the Shroud that sane wizards were not supposed to meddle with, but Draco scoffed at such concerns, and he did not care. It was enticing; the smell of death, cloying around this dead girl's body and Draco was strangely attracted to it, as he'd expected to be. It was an ego trip, really, this obscene act of Necromancy, so that Draco could get it off with death. Perhaps it was in his blood after all.

Draco leaned back now and he and Myrtle weren't kissing any more, just exploring each other with their hands, tugging experimentally on each other’s clothes.

Myrtle looked up at him coyly, and batted her eyelashes at him. “If this were any other day, I’d be swatting your hand and hexing you,” She said, smiling. “But, I can't. I can’t deny you, because I want you.” Myrtle seemed to be expending a great effort to say that, overcoming good girl teachings and chaste lectures. Draco smiled thinly. “I do. I know why you did this now, and oh Merlin, Draco, please...” her voice trailed off wistfully. “I don’t know what to do. I wasn’t popular in school, I heard other girls talk about what they did, but it all seemed so-“

Draco brought his hand up to her lips and shushed her softly. “Myrtle, it's all right. Here.”

Draco sat up and took hold of Myrtle's shoulders gently, kissing her cool forehead. He pushed her gently onto her back, resting her head against the pillows. Draco took a look at her now that he could take all of her in, and he wondered why they called her fat... not precisely thin, but surely undeserving of all that teasing, so long ago. Girls were cruel, Draco mused.

Myrtle looked up at Draco and said, “I meant what I said, when I said I trusted you.”

Draco nodded, and replied, “You trust me, and you want this. Let me guide you, and don't be ashamed.”

They were both still fully clothed, and Draco moved his body on top of Myrtle’s, pressing down against her, letting Myrtle feel his weight against her body. Myrtle exhaled low and deep, and grasped Draco’s sides as she arched her hips up against him reflexively. Then she seemed ashamed and surprised with herself, blushing.

“Draco,” she breathed, “Draco, no boy in school ever...”

“Shush, Myrtle, its okay,” he said soothingly as he pressed against her more firmly, feeling her writhe involuntarily under him. It was delicious. “It’s all right, you'll do just fine. You do want this, don’t you?”

Myrtle nodded emphatically, but her face was a tangled mask of emotions.

“I'm scared, Draco. I don’t know what will happen. This magic only lasts for a few hours! Tears welled in her eyes again. “What if I’m left with emptiness, an even greater longing than the one that's already keeping me here? Gods, I can feel the anticipation in my body, and I haven’t felt my body in so long I’d forgotten what it felt like; the butterflies, the nervousness, the tingling... I hadn’t missed this feeling at all, because I never resolved it before I died. There was this one time this silly Hufflepuff boy put his hand up my skirt and I let him. It was nice, but he never talked to me again after that…”

Draco leaned back and sat up on his haunches, and put his hand on the inside of Myrtle’s right knee. She sighed heavily.

“Ahhh, Draco...”

“Like this?” Draco asked.

“Yesss,” she hissed, and Myrtle squirmed against his hand in anticipation. He pushed her skirt up, and she looked down at him in disbelief, with a hungry expression.

Draco pushed her skirt up further to reveal the insides of Myrtle’s thighs and her old style white cotton knickers. Draco chuckled at the sight. He’d never imagined what a ghost's underwear looked like and now he knew. He spread his palm flat against the gusset of Myrtle’s knickers and she moaned loudly.

“Ooooohhh...” the sound filled the room.

“Your namesake,” Draco said, “is going to take on entirely new meanings after tonight.”

Myrtle's reaction was unexpected. She giggled. “Oh Draco, you're wicked. I am Moaning Myrtle... only you make me moan for different reasons. I never thought I'd make those noises; they're sort of embarrassing but I can’t help it. “Before... auuuhh!” She gasped again as Draco’s hand passed over her panty crotch and up the inside of her opposite thigh, “I moaned because I was sad, I got teased and I had died an unfair death. That stupid snake...” Draco tickled the backs of her knees and she giggled again. “You're a nice snake, on the other hand.” Myrtle looked down at him, smiling not at all innocently.

“How do you know I’m not planning to torture you later?”

“I don't, but I’ll take what I can get right now.” Myrtle sat up on her elbows and looked down at Draco, and all the expressions in her face and in her coal black eyes suddenly crystallized into one; desire. Myrtle looked at her open thighs, and back to his face. “Touch me, Draco.” She pleaded. “Please.”

Draco pressed two fingers against the smooth, cool cotton and she gasped again. Myrtle squirmed and her hips moved up to meet his fingers. Draco pressed another finger against the gusset of her knickers and Myrtle writhed and moaned steadily. Draco laughed softly at that - she really was Moaning Myrtle, only this time it was for pleasure.

Myrtle looked down at what Draco was doing, even as little noises escaped her throat. She was staring at his hand. Draco looked up at her, moving his practiced hand over her crotch, and he could feel her knickers getting damp from her excitement. But not warm. Her sex was cool and moist, and felt soft and inviting through the knickers.

“I just want to see you touch me.” She said incredulously. “It's been so long,” She sighed.

“It’s been so long since that silly Hufflepuff felt you up?” Draco asked. She nodded. “Well, since I don’t want to disappoint, I’m going to continue.” He scooted away from her, towards the foot of the bed, and then lay down on his stomach, placing his head directly between her legs. Myrtle looked down at him in rapt amazement. There was a boy between Moaning Myrtle’s legs, and it was Draco Malfoy. He chuckled at the idea of that and brought his hands up.

Moaning Myrtle’s school skirt was rucked up and splayed out, and the crotch of her knickers was brazenly displayed. Myrtle knees were bent, thighs open wide, feet flat on the sheets.

Draco started to kiss the insides of Myrtle’s thighs, teasing her, and she moaned long and low like she knew how to do. He wondered if that sound would ever get old. Moaning Myrtle indeed! Draco turned his attention to Myrtle’s smooth, cool thighs. She pressed her thighs together, cradling Draco's head in an embrace of sorts and then released it, letting her legs fall apart again. Draco had never felt that before and it was interesting; she didn’t crush him, she just gave his head a hug with her thighs. Draco felt emboldened, and he moved his mouth over the crotch of her knickers, pressing his lips against the fabric right above her slit, and he exhaled, filling the cool, damp cotton with his breath. Myrtle exhaled sharply, and she took a fistful of his hair in her left hand and fumbled with the buttons of her school blouse with the right.

Draco breathed into Myrtle's pussy a few more times, and as he watched she’d gotten her blouse open and was cupping her right breast in her hand, rubbing her nipple through the cotton. She was definitely excited and still looking down at him.

“Go on, Draco,” Myrtle’s implored, her voice dripping with need.

Draco curled two fingers of his right hand into the seam where her knickers met the inside of her right thigh and pulled the gusset of Myrtle’s knickers to the side. He was greeted with Myrtle’s dark, curly thatch, concealing the tender folds of her cunt. Draco spread her lips apart now that her knickers were out of the way.

Myrtle moaned desperately. “Draco..." she pleaded, but she didn’t take her eyes off of him. His name had become an incantation for her, keeping her here in the physical world, letting her dead flesh feel again. Draco’s name punctuated her moans, as she massaged her breast and urged him on. After he took a brief moment to regard her cunt, he put his face right into it. Myrtles clitoris was large and pouty, poking out past the dark curls adorning her labia. Draco flicked it gently, and then swirled his tongue around it in a lazy circle. Myrtle’s girl flesh tasted strange; she was cool, and he tasted the death in her skin but he also tasted and smelled her excitement. It was intoxicating and revolting and Draco couldn’t get enough of it. Draco could see Myrtle’s juices oozing out of her hole in her excitement, and he slid a finger into her cool tightness. His mind reeled when he thought about pushing his cock into that feeling; but he knew he wanted to make this last - he wanted to make this dead girl come.

Myrtle was panting and repeating his name like a curse. “Draco Malfoy...” her voice quavering in her desire, “you're a... necrophiliac, now...” she said and giggled a high pitched giggle. He laughed into her cunt and pressed his tongue flat and hard against her sex. Draco pushed another finger into her folds and she gasped loudly, tensing up.

As he watched, Draco saw something strange oozing out of Myrtle's dead snatch. It was a viscous, black ichor that alarmed him at first - but then when he tasted it, the fluid had the salty, copper tang of blood.

“Myrtle, were you a virgin?”

“Yes, until you put your fingers in me just now,” she said, twisting against his fingers, apparently relaxed even though he’d broken her hymen with his finger.

So this is how the dead bled, he thought, tasting it again. Draco lapped it up and thought how he should be revolted by the thing he was now savoring. He was here for the full experience - to taste death, to savor it and to make love to it, and by the gods that was what he was going to do. It was far too late to back out now, even though sometimes he felt revolted. Draco had to know if he had a taste for this; it was the only way he could be sure he'd have the stomach for what lay ahead.

Draco penetrated Myrtle with his fingers a few times, and more of the dark ichor oozed out of her. He licked it up again, and then after a few more insertions it stopped. Draco mused about what price the blood of a dead virgin would fetch at the apothecary in Knockturn Alley, but it was too late to save any as he'd lapped it all up.

Draco leaned into Myrtle's crotch and began to lick her pussy in earnest, tasting her folds, licking and teasing her clit, soaking her dark hairs in his saliva and pushing his fingers into the cool flesh of her tight channel as far as they would go. Myrtle shuddered at each new sensation, gasping and whimpering, and, of course, moaning. Draco knew she had come more than once already. He didn't know when her free hand had taken a hold of his blonde hair; he was only noticing it when her grip was painful. Myrtle's grasp was urgent, pressing him against her cunt and he allowed it, because it was satisfying.

Draco looked up again, and the black pits of Myrtle's eyes were desperate as he brought her over the edge once again. She pushed her hips against his face and her breath hitched. She rode his face to climax, and then she exhaled and collapsed back against the bed. Apparently, she'd had more than a few orgasms. Draco smiled and he was very pleased with himself. He could even make the dead come.

Draco placed soft butterfly kisses all over Myrtle’s folds, withdrew his hand from her center and sat back up slowly. Draco reached up and tugged at the hem of her knickers suggestively. Myrtle craned her neck to look down at him and smiled, lifting her hips. Draco tugged Myrtle's knickers down smoothly and tossed them on the floor. Myrtle exhaled deeply, a satisfied mmmmn escaping her throat as she writhed beneath Draco.

Draco bent down and kissed a line from Myrtles left hip bone across her belly to the right, stopping at her mound to taste her coarse dark curls and soak them with his saliva. He remarked that her hips were full and soft, but again, not what he'd call fat. Draco then kissed his way up her belly, slowly, undoing his belt as he moved over her, deftly kicking his trousers and his boxers off onto the floor as he moved up her body. Myrtle licked her lips in anticipation, and Draco saw desire in the coal-black caverns of her eyes. This dead girl wanted him and nothing could have turned him on more. Myrtle reached up to touch him as their torsos lined up, working unsteadily on the buttons of his school shirt. Naked now, Draco hovered over her. Myrtle was still mostly dressed, as she only had her knickers off, but that suited Draco just fine. He smiled down at her and she moved her head up to catch his lips, seeking his mouth out with hers, kissing him urgently. Myrtle's cool tongue found his, dancing, exploring, and her tongue, like her skin, was enticing in its cool feel. He looked down again and he saw that Myrtle’s eyes were welling with tears - they were flowing down the sides of her cheeks past her ears and into her hair. She smiled a misty smile at him.

“Draco?” It was a question, an accusation. His name had hidden meanings even he didn't comprehend at times.

“Yes, Myrtle,” he cooed softly as he positioned himself between her thighs. Myrtle curled her legs around Draco’s hips and started to rub the soles of her smooth, cold feet against the backs of his thighs. The feeling was electric. Merlin, where did she learn that? This is going to be good. Draco pressed against her, moving closer, and Myrtle’s eyes widened in fear with the reality of what he was about to do. In spite of the fear in her eyes, the faint smile didn’t leave her face, but neither did her tears stop flowing. Myrtle looked up at Draco and nodded silently, her curt consent given.

“Yes. Please. Now.” Myrtle gritted her teeth; apparently she believed this was going to be painful. Draco positioned himself between her thighs expertly, but did not take her immediately. He toyed with her breasts, starting with the one that Myrtle herself had worked free in her climaxes a short wile ago. He decided to take off her bra, reaching under her back to unclip her bra and pulling it off through her sleeves with that deft little trick that Pansy had taught him, without taking off her school blouse. He leaned forwards to suckle one of Myrtles hard nipples and then the other, once again delighting in the cool sensation of her body. It was in such a sharp contrast to Pansy, but he put her out of his mind now as he savored the cool dead taste of the ghost underneath him.

Draco was convinced that Myrtle was more worked up than she imagined she ever would be, alive or dead. Draco had suckled her breasts amply, hovering over her, and now the moment of truth was at hand. Draco took hold of his member and positioned the swollen tip against Myrtle’s opening. It was cool, wet and inviting, and he couldn’t wait to plunge into her sex. Draco smiled wickedly and decided to tease her a little while longer, which was cruel, he knew, but that’s who he was. He rubbed the underside of his warm member against Myrtle's slit gently, letting her feel the heat of him against her sex. Myrtle moaned that practiced low moan of hers that was driving him nuts. Finally, after a few too many stroked he changed the angle of his hips and his next thrust drove the tip of his cock into Myrtle’s cunt. She was impossibly, deliciously tight and her insides were as cool as her skin, and just as inviting.

Draco gasped with the overwhelming pleasure of it. "Fuck... Myrtle... ooh fuck, that’s good,” he spat through gritted teeth. Myrtle continued to caress the backs of Draco's thighs with the soles of her feet. She smiled up at him as she arched her back and thrust her hips at him, trying to get more of him inside of her.

“Yesss!” she hissed. "Ooooh Draco... is it worth the price you paid?" She asked, and she looked up at him all too knowingly.

Draco felt a tinge of worry. How could she know about that part of the ritual, the part that he'd scoffed at? How could such things be measured, let alone extracted? He tried not to think about it, and instead focused on how snug her smooth cunt was around his cock. Myrtle brought her hands up and put her palms on his shoulders, spreading her fingers out and kneading his skin. Her tears had stopped, and a staccato of gasps and short moans mixed with his name issued from her throat. Draco started to move and she responded, moving with him, on his down stroke she rolled her hips just so, and he nearly swooned at it. Fuck, her instincts were good, he thought.

Myrtle looked up at him, with a little smirk and a half smile. “I learned a little something from listening to girls talk in the loo,” she said, giggling at his surprised look from her actions. "Is that good?" she breathed, and he knew she already had the answer. Damn her.

“Mmmn, Yes, Myrtle,” he answered her anyway, and returned her gaze with accusations of his own. "You?" he asked, driving deep. Her breath caught in her throat, ragged like fifty years of ashes.

"I never thought I'd be doing this, alive or dead. I guess I'm settling for dead." she said, and her eyes fluttered as he sheathed himself inside of her fully and stopped.

Draco looked down at her. She wasn’t screaming and struggling like he thought she'd be, and it was all the nicer because she wasn't panic stricken. And oh, gods, she was so tight... It was a brand new sensation to be enveloped this completely, inside this dead girl's tight flesh, tingly and slick against his skin.

Draco started a very slow pace with Myrtle, moving in and out of her channel steadily and evenly. He never did it this slow with Pansy, but he wanted to take his time. By now, Pansy would have been grabbing his hair and cursing, slapping him and demanding to know why she wasn’t being fucked proper.

Myrtle, for her part, was a steady fount of moans, soft curses and panting, chanting his name like her own ritual, writhing underneath him as they moved.

And move and writhe she did. He looked down at the girl, and observed that no part of her was still. Her feet moved against the backs of his thighs, now in a rhythm with his thrusts. Myrtle’s hips rolled with his, her belly undulating as she arched her back, her hands desperately grasping his shoulders, her head moving from side to side when she wasn’t meeting his gaze with her piercing, black, hungry eyes. Fuck, she was good, Draco thought.

Draco never wanted this ritual to end. He wanted to pin Myrtle to this mattress and fuck her until she was alive again. He smiled down at her as his pleasure mounted. Even in the haze of his lust, he tried not to his expression it into a sneer. Myrtle smiled back up at him, doing her best to manage a facial expression other than ohgodsyes.

Myrtle had a sheen of sweat on her brow, and Draco marveled at the ritual's completeness. She was panting, but she was still looking at him, her eyes piercing through him, like she was staring at the ceiling but he knew she wasn’t. Her hands moved down to his sides, gripping as she moaned his name long and low, drawing out the ‘a’ and the ‘o’. She gasped hard and her hands came away from his sides to clutch the sheets, gathering up great balls of the silk in her fists. She shuddered and her eyes went wide, and Draco knew she was having the orgasm of her life. Or was it her death?

Draco closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, plowing into her cunt more steadily. "Yes, Myrtle... FUCK." Draco could barely get the words out coherently; other, more primal sounds battled to escape his throat as he came. He drove deep and hard, slamming her against the mattress. Myrtle gasped and her head lolled to the side, thrashing, and her knuckles went white from her death grip of the sheets.

“Draco, yes!” she gasped, as he spilled into her. He felt his heat spreading into her as he came, warming and slicking up her channel, filling this dead girl with his live spunk and it felt so fucking good. He collapsed against her and kissed her hotly, warming her mouth with his breath, feeling her tongue seek his out. Her body surged up to meet his and she threw her arms around his shoulders, pulling him down against her tightly, as if she wanted him to crush her underneath his passion. An image of Myrtle laughing as she pulled Draco into her grave briefly flashed in Draco’s mind. He felt a momentary wave of horror that passed as quickly as the image, leaving him feeling sated.

This was the first time a girl had ever amazed Draco Malfoy in bed. Pansy satisfied, but Myrtle fucking delivered. He moved out of the kiss and pressed his forehead against her shoulder, taking in ragged gulps of air. She grasped his blonde hair and held his head against her shoulder. He turned his head and kissed her cheek, moving his mouth up to hers, sucking her tongue into a dance with his. Myrtle sighed into his mouth and said his name a few times, softly, a mantra against her suffering.

Draco supported himself on his elbows again, and pressed his forehead against Myrtle's. He grinned devilishly and he said through gritted teeth, "Myrtle. that was... fucking brilliant."

She tangled one hand in his hair, caressing his back with the other. She grinned back at him. "Worth the price?"

Draco nodded weakly, and Myrtle let out a shrill giggle, moving her feet down Draco's thighs to hook them behind his knees. She had her entire body pressed against his and she felt so good.

Draco became aware that he was still very hard, buried deep within her tight cunt, and that his thrusts had merely slowed down, but not stopped. He had continued to pump into her, reflexively, even after he'd climaxed.

She was still rolling her hips slowly, and now little noises that sounded like ‘Aah’ were escaping her lips, and she said, “Draco, I think if you keep going, like that, I would..." and she trailed off, hissing his name softly in her pleasure.

“Would you?" he replied. "Mmmn. Yes, please do." Draco kept pumping her slowly, like he had been when the realized he was still within her.

Everything about this experience was new - he wanted to feel her cum again, for her pleasure, even after his had passed, because the noises she made and the way she moved were so intoxicating he just wanted it that much.

And such noises they were. Sweet little noises were escaping from Myrtle, urged out by his cock, little girl noises that made him feel guilty and excited, little noises of surprise and delight, ‘aahs’ and ‘oohs’ each time he slid in and out of her. Myrtle was slick and tight and felt so amazing from his climax and her juices. A little warmer, but still cool, not quite the temperature you'd expect from the cunt of a girl who'd just been spunked inside of, as well as cumming herself.

Myrtle tensed up and moaned suddenly, her tight channel squeezing him inside of her, and Draco realized she'd cum while he'd been memorizing the feel of her surrounding him.

She looked up at him and smiled. "Oh, Draco, that was nice." She bent up to kiss his cheek tenderly, and he felt his cheeks flush at the sweetness of it in spite of himself. He was still hard, but done for the time being. He needed a break, and cuddling wasn't exactly out of the question given how powerful this had been so far.

Draco eased his cock out of Myrtle slowly and looked down at her, smiling thinly at the sight of his seed leaking out of her pussy, mingled with a little more of that black ichor from earlier.

Myrtle shifted away from him, towards the head of the bed and sat up cross-legged. She took off her blouse but left her tie on, and was now naked but for her skirt and school tie. Myrtle flashed him a shy, wicked smile and he noticed the flushed and happy expression on her face. This ritual was fucking amazing. Gods, he wanted to come back here and do this again next year if he could. he rolled off of her and lay next to her, taking her hand in his. Myrtle?" he said.

Myrtle had turned on her side to face him and she was lazily playing with his hair. “Yes, Draco?”

“I want to do this again.” Draco said firmly.

“It only works on Halloween.” she giggled. “Are you going to live that long?”

It was a startling question, but it was very pointed and relevant. Indeed, would he live that long? Or, would he be able to come back to Hogwart’s, even if he did live? He didn’t know, but he did know that this experience was worth repeating. He frowned at the reality of her question, and he felt annoyed that she’d asked it.

“Of course I’m coming back.” Draco tried to sound irritated, instead of scared. “Of course I’ll be here.” He spat, only half believing it.

Doubts filled Myrtle’s eyes; but also fear and want. “I’m sure you’ll find a way if you can. It won’t be a broken promise, even if you don’t show up, because I have an idea of what you’re getting into, Draco Malfoy.”

Draco sat up, and easily found the catch on her skirt, undoing it. Myrtle moved her hips so that Draco could pull it off, and now they were both naked except for Myrtle was still wearing her silly blue and silver school tie. She looked down at it, and then back up at his face as she pulled it off, depositing it on the ground with the rest of their clothing before they both lay back down, side by side.

Draco held Myrtle’s hand and stared up at the canopy of the bed. He stole a glance at her a few times, and she was doing the same thing he was; taking in the gravity of the moment and enjoying it with him in silence. They lay there as if they were a normal boy and girl after their first time, just after having very intense, very good, sex.

A thought wandered into Draco’s head, and he decided to explore it.

“Myrtle, what’s it like to die?”

She laughed. “It’s no fun,” she said simply. It’s sudden, it hurts, and it is definitely the end. There’s nothing after death, well at least nothing that feels like a life any more.”

Myrtle got up onto an elbow and regarded Draco’s face, and he looked back at her curiously.

“Why do you ask, Draco? Are you planning on doing it soon?”

Draco was getting angry in spite of himself. “I'd rather not discuss my impending doom with you, thanks, especially not at a moment like this,” he said, but squeezed her hand to reassure her that he wasn’t angry.

Myrtle frowned, and looked sheepish. “I’m sorry, but you brought it up.”

Myrtle had him there. He had brought it up. Draco reached up and pushed an errant strand of black hair out of Myrtle’s face, then cupped her cheek. She closed her eyes and mmmned, and pressed her face against his hand. Draco was regarding her face now. Myrtle really wasn’t ugly. She was plain, and not stunning, but still not ugly. If anything, her intense climaxes had lent an extra glow to her features.

Myrtle turned her body, and slowly sat up. Myrtle got up on her haunches and was now perpendicular to Draco, with her knees against his hip. She started to explore his body with both of her hands. Draco knew this was all undiscovered territory for Myrtle and he allowed her inexperienced touch to range over his fair skin. She was looking at him with great interest as she caressed his belly and his chest, tweaking his nipples to elicit a soft sigh from him, moving her hands over his thighs.

Draco laced his fingers and put his hands behind his head, looking up at Myrtle's face and regarding her movements. The chill of Myrtle's gentle hands on his skin made him tingle pleasantly. She touched the insides of his thighs tentatively, running fingers down to his knees and then back up, and then over his now soft cock. She tugged it and ran her fingers up and down its length, stroking it clumsily, but before long Draco was hard again in spite of her inexperience. As he watched, Myrtle's expression changed from curiosity to arousal, and when she saw that she'd gotten him hard with her hands she licked her lips and looked down at him. The fear was gone from her face and Draco almost missed it. She had gone from anxiety and rage to first-time curiosity, interest and lust in a very short time. A smile played on her lips.

“I did that." She stated simply, idly caressing his hardness with her fingertips.

“Yes,” he breathed, “now what are you going to do about it?”

Myrtle started to bend down, bringing her face closer to Draco's erection. She kept one hand closed around the base of his shaft, holding him steady. Gods, was she going to blow him? He shivered.

Draco raised an eyebrow at her. “Myrtle, have you ever done that before?”

She shook her head, pigtails bobbing. “No,” she replied, “but I want to. Is it all right?”

Draco nodded, and Myrtle's cool tongue found the tip of his cock and swirled around it slowly. Draco sighed and tilted his head up to watch as the tip of his cock disappeared into Myrtle's soft mouth. She coated his shaft with her saliva and tried to take him into her mouth further with each movement. Myrtle grasped the base of his shaft and caressed the insides of his thighs.

Draco was nearly insensible from the pleasure and began to thrust up into her mouth reflexively, fucking her face slowly as she moved. Her head moved in time with his thrusts and she shot him a wicked, wide-eyed glance before looking back down to her task. She kept this up for a while, and Draco could feel himself throb in her mouth. Gods, Myrtle’s mouth felt good.

Draco moved his hands down to her head, cradling it, caressing the sides of her neck, running his fingers through her short black hair and grasping her pigtails in his fists. Myrtle’s hair was so like Pansy's, and yet so different in its style.

Suddenly, Myrtle plunged Draco's cock all the way down her throat and left it there, swirling her tongue around the base of his shaft, remaining still as she held him tightly in her throat.

This elicited an “Awww, fuck!” from Draco, as he thrust up reflexively, gasping from the pleasurable sensation. Myrtle moaned softly, and Draco felt it as a pleasant hum against his shaft. She kept that position for a few moments and then she moved her mouth off of his erection, running her tongue over each bit if it as it left her throat.

“Fuck, Myrtle, you would have been a lot more popular in school, if you'd only tried,” Draco gasped, grinning at her wickedly.

“I couldn’t have done this in school,” Myrtle said petulantly as she tried to hide a thin smile at the wickedness of his suggestion. “Who would have shagged ugly old Myrtle?”

Draco shook his head, and sat up on his elbows. “You’re not ugly.”

Myrtle laughed. “You’re just saying that because, well, here we are, naked and shagging. It would be rude for you to say that I was.”

Myrtle’s posture shifted as she sat up. She seemed sad as she went on. “I know I am. Ugly, I mean. That’s why none of the boys from school wanted to touch me or be near me, apart from that one silly Hufflepuff boy. That’s why all the girls teased me and that’s why I was in the loo crying on the day that I died.”

“I’ll have you know that Draco Malfoy is not in the habit of shagging homely girls.” Myrtle giggled at that. “And that bit with your mouth was lovely. It was really good. Fuck, why did you stop?”

“I want to try something,” she said, almost breathless, her words coming out in a lusty sigh. Anything that could make her feel like that at the very thought of it was probably worth trying.

“Okay, what then?” demanded Draco.

She scooted away from him, and then she swung her left leg over his hips. Draco instinctively knew what she was doing and he grinned. "Yes..." he hissed, as she lowered herself down onto him. She felt around behind herself for the tip of his cock and positioned it against her opening. Myrtle looked down at Draco, her face lusty, dark and urgent, and took the tip of his shaft inside of her. She exhaled through clenched teeth, hissing as she sank down onto him.

“Aah, Draco,” she breathed, as her pelvis met his. Myrtle’s wickedly tight pussy was enveloping him again, and now it was Draco’s turn to clutch the sheets desperately.

“Gods, Myrtle! That's so... good...” Draco felt strange complimenting her so much, but it was true, and Draco couldn’t help the admiration that had crept into his tone.

Myrtle giggled again, and then moaned. “Auuuhh, do you like it Draco? Mmmn, because I know I do. Ooooh, sweet Merlin, why wasn’t I more outgoing at school? I missed so much before I died. Mmnph. Lucky for me, your morbid curiosity drove you into my arms..." Myrtle talked and cursed as she moved up and down on top of him.

Draco tore his hands away from their death grip of the sheets, and took Myrtle’s breasts in his hands possessively, teasing her nipples in light circles with his thumbs. When he’d teased Myrtle’s nipples to redness Draco continued his caress down her belly and across her sides, then grasped Myrtle’s hips gently before moving his hands down to stroke her thighs and back up to grip her hips firmly. Myrtle moved her tight sex up and down his length, rocking steadily against his hips. Draco's pleasure from the sensation of being sheathed deep inside Myrtle was heightened by the cool, wet grip of her cunt on his shaft as she moved.

Her hips were questing for the perfect angle, rolling and shifting as she moved, taking him deep, and then shallow. Myrtle’s hands were always flat against his chest for balance, her face concentration, abandon, frustration, delight.

Myrtle’s nipples were pink and taut, and Draco concentrated on them, taking them both between thumb and forefinger again and feeling them pebble in this grasp. She gasped and moaned loudly, and Draco wondered if her signature moan would change its tune after this.

Draco was enjoying the feel of Myrtle as she used him to explore every little recess and fold of her tight cunt. Even though it was a sexual act, there was something oddly sweet about allowing Myrtle to use his body to explore herself, to allow her to guide herself through orgasms, and as he lay there enjoying the feel of her he could tell from her tightening and gasping that she was having more than a few.

Draco was suddenly taken aback by the tenderness of his caress and his treatment of Myrtle throughout this entire encounter. It was very much unlike anything he'd experienced before, especially in bed. Gone was the demanding and selfish way he treated Pansy. He didn't want to scare Myrtle off, because even a girl who'd been dead for decades might say no and he didn't want to force her. This was going much better than it would have gone at the point of his wand. Draco took pleasure in the knowledge that Myrtle wanted him, and that she'd been willing to endure torture for him. It made him wonder what she'd really been like in school.

He sighed and then looked up at her, tearing himself away from his musings as Myrtle continued to move and pant. She loved this, and she was very much into fucking him right now. Myrtle’s eyes, always dark, were still bright with excitement and passion, and her pigtails swayed gently, following the rhythm of her hips as she impaled herself on his shaft in measured thrusts.

Oh fuck, he thought, those pigtails. He'd seen them so many times when he'd seen Myrtle’s ghostly visage, but they never moved or seemed alive as they did right now. Draco reached up and tugged on them and gave them a flip, and she giggled. She leaned forwards over him so he could play with her hair and he did so, twirling her soft black hair in his fingers.

"Do you like my hair, Draco? Done up in tails like a widdle ickle firstie?" Myrtle sat up and leaned back, biting her finger suggestively, for emphasis.

Draco nearly exploded inside of her right then. "I like everything about you, Myrtle." he managed, straining up into her, lifting her hips off the mattress. He cupped her breasts, kneading them under his hands. Myrtle gasped and she started to move faster up and down on him. He saw her grit her teeth and exhale deeply, her lust taking over. Oh, she’s about to cum, thought Draco, and he gripped her hips tightly and thrust up into her with more force. Myrtle wailed, and he could feel her cunt contracting around him, gripping him as she spasmed through her climax. Draco was not fond of this position, but her sudden release was a keen reminder that he was buried deep inside Myrtle's tightness and he felt his own excitement following on the heels of hers. Myrtle pitched forwards and placed her palms against his chest, leaning down against him roughly. Her eyes were swimming with lust and the cold comfort of her climax. She grinned down at him devilishly, her eyes flashing.

“Gods, Draco, are you, going to...”

He arched up off the mattress and caught her lips with his, kissing her fiercely, his hands digging into her hips as he guided her impalement. Draco thrust up into her desperately. He wanted to fill her again.

Myrtle pulled out of the kiss. "Come on, Draco, please, I need you. Oh, sweet oblivion..." She started to rock against him faster, her voice becoming a tangled mess of moans and curses mingled with Draco's name.

He locked eyes with her. Myrtle’s eyes were filled with need and urgency, and something else - oh gods, it was a glimpse the death within her, jealous of Draco’s life and greedy for it, hungering for him however she could get it, as he impaled her deeply. He groaned her name and thrust up into her, feeling his member throb and swell within her. Draco spilled into her fast and hot and Myrtle gasped and she squeezed her breasts, pinching her nipples hard as she climaxed again, riding on the heels of his orgasm. She moaned his name long and very loudly, echoing throughout the Room of Requirement, keening off of the walls and causing the red canopy of the bed to vibrate with the sound.

Myrtle never took her eyes off of him as her pace slowed, and then she sank down onto him, covering his body with hers. She played with his chest and she said “Draco, that was good.”

Draco nodded weakly. “Yeah, it was. Good is a gross understatement, though.”

“Draco, you took an awfully big risk to do this, just to shag miserable old Moaning Myrtle.”

Draco was still struggling for breath, recovering after his climax. He looked up at her and decided to tell her a part of the truth. “I just needed to discover something about myself. I’m sorry if that sounds selfish, Myrtle.”

Myrtle shook her head and smiled thinly, but her disappointment and anger showed in her gaze. Suddenly Draco didn’t feel so comfortable, pinned to the bed by a ghost, and he squirmed under her.

“You did this thing seeking wisdom from beyond the grave.” Myrtle began. “But the grave doesn't hold anything but the dead. There is no wisdom, no terrible secret about death, other than that death is the end,” Myrtle went on, ignoring Draco's wide eyes.

“The understanding you seek doesn’t come from death, Draco, it comes from life. And I can't help you with that, because I did so little of it.” With that, Myrtle sounded dejected. “You shouldn’t ask yourself if you're comfortable with death. No one should be comfortable with death. You should ask yourself if you want to live.

“You didn't get off with Death, Draco.” Myrtle said evenly, “you just got off with me."

Before Draco could absorb what she said, she leaned over him and crushed her lips down against his, kissing him fiercely, pressing her tongue against his lips. He accepted it, meeting Myrtle’s tongue with his own, swirling and dancing. Draco hugged her to himself, holding her down tightly against him, feeling the press of her tepid skin against his body.

When Draco opened his eyes again, he wished to the gods that he hadn't. Myrtle’s eyes were terrible, filled with accusation and foreboding, the threat of real death. Draco’s own eyes widened and he struggled. Myrtle pulled away from him and she smirked.

“Not so cozy, is it, Draco?” She spat. “Not comfortable at all.”

“Myrtle, I...” He felt frantic, and the feeling that this might be a mistake rose up in Draco's mind again. He nearly wanted to hit her, throw her across the room like a rag doll, to punish her for daring to show him the terrible images that he wanted to see. Who did she think she was? She was just Moaning Myrtle, after all, and he was Draco Malfoy, pureblood son and chosen servant of the Dark Lord.

Draco’s lip curled in anger and she smiled. “Yes,” she said, “Draco, there it is. You don’t want to die, do you?”

Draco shook his head. “You're damn well right I don’t want to die. I don’t want to wind up like you."

That was the first cruel thing he'd said, and she rolled off of him and sat up on her knees, clearly enraged. It was then that Draco realized that he had been a fool to expect this encounter with Myrtle to be rosy from beginning to end.

Myrtle sat beside him as she had before, when she'd been caressing him so gently. She crossed her arms over her chest and regarded him angrily.

“You don’t want to wind up like me!?” she shrieked. “Of course not, who would want to be like miserable old Moaning Myrtle? Who would want to be her friend? Who would want to protect her from the basilisk? Who would want to take her to bed? On that last, before Draco could open his mouth she said, “You don't count Draco, I'm already dead now.”

Myrtle fumed. “The nerve of you, Draco Malfoy, playing with forces you don’t understand, stirring my grave, disturbing my peace! I was content to be miserable, that’s why I was stuck here! And now, look what you did!”

Myrtle started sobbing and her tears flowed freely. Her body hitched as she cried, taking deep suffering breaths as she bawled. Draco sat up and moved towards her. There were daggers in her eyes, but she didn’t stop him from approaching. Draco put his arm around her shoulder and stroked her hair, trying to quiet and soothe her. She tensed up, but she didn’t move away.

“Myrtle, shush, Myrtle, please...” he whispered in her ear.

“Damn you, Draco, damn you for dragging me across the Shroud and having your way with me!” Myrtle’s voice was lower and still angry, bet she leaned into his embrace. “I thought you were going to torture me, and I wasn’t disappointed after all! You found different ways to hurt me. I nearly would have preferred the lash.”

“Myrtle, I’m sorry I said that. It’s terrible, what happened to you.” The words caught in Draco’s throat. He hated apologizing, but he wanted her to calm down.

“Hey, it feels good to cry.” Myrtle said with amazement. “I haven’t cried real tears in so long. I forgot what it felt like to just let it all out.” Myrtle’s tone hardened. “Don’t think I’m grateful to you for making me cry, though!”

Draco held Myrtle tightly as she sobbed, letting it all out. She bemoaned an unfair death, teasing, unpopularity and everything else in between. Draco held her shuddering body against his and just let her cry. Before long Draco shifted behind her, holding her tight, wrapping his arms around her waist as he leaned forwards to kiss her on the back of her neck. Myrtle sighed contentedly and wiped away her tears. She turned her head to catch his lips and they kissed very tenderly; it was nothing like the crushing, deathly kiss she'd given him earlier. It was sweet, and there was nothing of that darkness in her eyes at this moment. She seemed content in his comfort.

Draco smiled at her and Myrtle leaned back into him, tilting her head back against his shoulder and he devoured her mouth, rising up over her. Draco ran his hands up her sides and cupped her breasts in his hands. She moaned and started to rock back against him, wriggling against him suggestively. Myrtle lifted her left arm up and reached back, finding the back of Draco's head with her hand, carding his blonde hair in her fingers. Myrtle's right hand found Draco's right hand and gave it a suggestive push downwards, so Draco moved it off of Myrtle's chest as they kissed. Myrtle repositioned herself, spreading her legs apart in anticipation.

Draco pulled out of the kiss and looked at Myrtle in mocking accusation, remembering her anger from moments before. She pursed her lips and said "please", nearly breathing into his mouth.

Draco moved his hand to Myrtle's sex, lightly raking his nails through her dark curls. She gasped and Draco smirked, feeling satisfied.

Myrtle broke the kiss and said "Ahhh, you tease," and then surged up to kiss him again.

Draco twirled his index finger around Myrtle's already swollen clit, finding it easily but denying the contact she craved, darting around her folds, teasing her clit in little flicks and dabs, striking like a serpent, teasing. She moaned and writhed back against him, and he delved into her suddenly, pushing two fingers inside her and rubbing her clit with his thumb. She moaned hard into his mouth and he felt the keening wail of her sound rattle in his lungs.

Myrtle writhed against his hand and breathed, “Please keep touching me, Draco, please, yes, there...” Every word was a direction and Draco was no stranger to following direction. He massaged her cunt with his fingers, rubbing and exploring. Myrtle's head lolled forwards and Draco resorted to kissing the back of her neck and her shoulders. Draco felt her go limp in his arms for a moment, then tense up suddenly, moaning his name long and loud as she shuddered and came on his fingers, gripping them within herself as her release washed over her body. Draco held her and kissed her throughout.

Draco thought he'd never grow tired of hearing her moan his name, and he wondered if she'd do it after this was over. Myrtle leaned back against him once more, tilting her head up to kiss him and he did.

“Ooooh, Draco,” she breathed, “you're sort of forgiven,” and then she giggled. “Besides, what else were we going to do for three hours?”

Draco sat upright, having nearly forgotten what he’d gotten in Hogsmeade.

“Oh! I brought sweets!" Draco said.

Myrtles eyes lit up and she looked delighted. “You brought sweets? We've made love twice and you're just now giving me sweets?” Her tone was stern but her body language was mocking and sexy.

He laughed and he said, “Yes, well, I was saving it for the right moment.”

“You just wanted to have me a few times to make sure it worked before then,” she pouted.

“Not to worry, I have them here,” Draco said, moving to the head of the bed and leaning over to the bedside table. He took up the small shopping bag that he'd brought and sat it on the bed between them. He reached in and produced a small box of chocolates from Honeyduke’s, and opened them, presenting them to Myrtle.

“Here,” he said, smiling at her.

Myrtle looked dumbstruck. “I haven’t tasted anything- besides you-" she said wickedly, "in so long.” She took one and licked it hesitantly, and then popped it in her mouth.

She mumbled around the chocolate. “Oh Draco, this is so good.” she leaned forwards and kissed him, and he tasted the chocolate on her lips. She leaned away and happily ate the chocolates one after the other, making sensual noises as she commented on each one. "Caramel, and fudge, oh my favourite!"

Draco saw that she was trying desperately to eat them slowly and savor them, but it was over much too quickly and before she'd even realized it, she'd finished the last one.

It was over too quickly, Draco reflected. Just like this night, just like this ritual. He wanted a lot more than three hours with Myrtle; she gave him things that Pansy never did and he was going to miss this. He felt a pang of regret and for a brief moment he wished he hadn't cast this ritual at all.

He shook his head, and put that thought out of his mind. He took up his wand from the bedside table as he pulled the next object out of the bag, a bottle of butterbeer, and cast a chilling spell on it, making it cool.

“Oh Draco, a butterbeer!” Myrtle took the bottle from him and pulled cork out, taking a few sips.

“Mmmn, that goes down good,” she said, and hiccupped. They laughed at that. Myrtle took a few more sips, not finishing it, then handed it back to Draco and pointed at the bedside table, where he placed it.

“You’re not going to drink it all?” Draco asked.

She shook her head. “I’m saving some for later. I know I'll be thirsty.” Myrtle grinned wickedly.

“I've just realized how badly I’m spoiling you,” he said, smirking at her.

Myrtle batted her eyelashes and smiled back, and then she leaned over and kissed Draco suddenly, as soon as he'd put the butterbeer back on the table.

“Thank you for bringing those things, and thank you for this,” she said. “I'm sorry I thought you were going to hurt me.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “All I knew about you was what I'd heard, and I often hear girls talking about how you're cruel.”

Draco shook his head. “I am cruel, Myrtle. This ritual only lasts three hours. It’s going to end,” he said, glancing over at the hourglass, “sooner than either of us thinks." They noticed that well more than half of the sand had passed through the hourglass which was marking time for the ritual.

“How long do you think?” Myrtle asked hesitantly.

“Probably about half an hour.” He replied, “Maybe less.”

“Time flies,” she said wistfully, and turned to look at him hungrily.

Myrtle suddenly flung herself at Draco, knocking him back onto the bed and landing on top of him, kissing him hard. He moved out from underneath her slowly, maintaining the kiss, and soon they were facing each other on their knees, embracing and continuing the kiss that had begun so fiercely.

“Draco?” His name was a question, and she placed her head on his shoulder.

“Yes?” he asked, stroking her hair and kissing her neck.

“Hold me.”

“I will, I promise.” He wrapped his arms around her tightly.

“Draco, what do you think it will feel like when the ritual ends?”

“I don't know. I imagine it will hurt, like when it began. It might even feel like dying again.”

“Well, no surprises there, I've already died once.”

Myrtle nuzzled Draco’s neck and he cradled her head against his shoulder, she kissed him softly and he noticed that her lips were warm. She'd finally heated up to a normal body temperature.

“Myrtle, you're warm,” Draco observed.

She looked at him strangely. “Was I cold?” He nodded. “This whole time, and you didn’t say anything?”

Draco looked a bit sheepish. “It wasn't unpleasant, actually, but you're warm now.” He kissed her hard, feeling the warmth of her tongue. Oh gods, kissing a chilly Myrtle was passionate enough, but kissing a warm Myrtle was even better. She ran her smooth tongue all over the inside of his mouth, tasting his palate and rubbing it over his teeth, and he returned the favour, running his tongue over all of her mouth.

Draco spoke between stolen kisses. “Myrtle, I... want to... fuck you again.”

She moaned into his mouth. “Draco, I want you to, fuck me again." Myrtle giggled and blushed at her profanity. She looked up at him with her beautiful dark eyes, and he wanted to get lost within them.

“How do you want it?” He asked wickedly.

She moaned and said, “Well, I listen to the girls gossiping in the loo all the time, so I've heard a few things. I want to try this one."

Myrtle disengaged herself from her embrace with Draco, and turned to face the head of the bed. She got down on her hands and knees, rocking back and forth a few times, and she shook her bum at him suggestively.

Oh fuck, Draco thought, she wants it from behind. This is gonna be good.

Draco sat up and moved behind her, between her legs. He moved into place and he asked, “You heard girls gossiping in the loo, eh? Gossiping about their exploits?”

Myrtle replied, “Yeah, that’s how I sort of knew what to do. I've had decades to listen to the girls talking about what they did, and most of the time they didn’t even know that I was listening. I've had all of this time to think about what I was missing with boys, and listen to other girls describe it.”

“So now that I've finally got my chance, Auuuhh!" Myrtle’s voice trailed off as Draco, who had moved into position, rubbed the tip and the top of his cock against her slit from the underside. She felt completely different now that she was warm. He could feel the heat of her sex spreading out, warming his member. He took hold of her hips and pulled her back onto him, teasing her opening with his hardness.

Oh, fuck, Draco..." Draco smiled at Myrtle's profanity; she was more comfortable with it now that it felt really good. He rubbed his hands over her shapely bum, palming the smooth flesh of her arse. He then moved his hands up to caress the small of her back and her sides as he pushed the tip of his cock into her warm cunt.

Little whimpers escaped Myrtle’s throat, like before, little girl noises that drove Draco crazy. She was rocking back and forth in anticipation, and he took a firm hold of her hips, holding her steady as he drove deep into her. He pierced her sex to the hilt in one swift stroke. She was wet and she was warm this time. Her tightness contracted around him reflexively, and as he pushed into her Draco pitched forwards in ecstasy. He righted himself, moving in and out of her slowly.

Myrtle moaned his name long and loud, drawing out the vowels. Draco wondered if the keening wail of this dead girl moaning his name in ecstasy would echo through this room after they were gone. He smiled at that, thinking that wouldn’t be such a bad Hogwart’s legacy.

Myrtle moved with Draco, thrusting her hips back against him as he thrust into her. The feeling of her tightness gripping him was delicious as she enveloped him. He looked down at her and a sheen of sweat was forming on her bum and her shoulders, pooling in the small of her back. She looked glorious and just then, she looked back at him. Myrtle’s face was abandon. Her dark eyes were filled with the urgency and desire that he had desperately wanted to see there.

Draco smiled at her and breathed as he looked at her. "Myrtle... Myrtle, that's so good...”

Myrtle pitched her head forwards, shaking it in an emphatic nod, and then looked back at him again. “I see what the girls meant about this way... Ooooh!” She gasped as he continued to thrust into her, every stroke a punctuation against her moans.

“Gods Draco, I can feel you all the way inside me... It's so good, Draco.” Myrtle whimpered and clutched the sheets in her ecstasy.

Draco continued to pound her, but he leaned forwards to cup a breast in one hand and, steadying himself with the other arm, palm against the mattress, he began to kiss and nibble the back of her neck. He repositioned himself so he wasn't overbalanced, and moments after his angle changed she bucked against him hard. He could tell she was cumming as her pussy contracted around him even more tightly. She uttered something incoherent and shrill, thrashing her head from side to side in her moment. Myrtle turned her head around as far as it would go, desperately seeking his lips, which he gladly provided. Draco covered her mouth with his as her orgasm subsided, and she whimpered and muttered filthy things into his mouth. Tears were swimming in her eyes, and Draco was taken aback by that. She surprised him again by giggling in spite of her tears as she pulled her head away from his, continuing to look at him. He pumped into her steadily but slowed his pace a bit, enjoying the feel of her.

“Oh Draco, so deep, so good... ooh, when I think of all that I missed...”

Draco leaned down and kissed her swiftly, and then said, “I don’t know if three hours can make up for it, but its coming pretty close.” he said, smirking at her. Myrtle turned her head back towards the head of the bed and dropped down onto her elbows, bracing against his thrusts.

“Come on then, it’s your turn.” she said enticingly, and with that, Draco righted himself and took hold of Myrtle’s smooth hips, and began to slam into her in earnest. Draco watched his cock sliding in and out of her tight pinkness, and the sight of him disappearing into this dead girl’s cunt drove him over the edge.

“Oh fuck, Myrtle! There! Yes!” Draco said through gritted teeth, barely forming the words in his lust. He didn’t have long before his climax was spurred on by the tightness and the heat of her. Draco was slamming into Myrtle’s pussy with such force that their bodies were being carried up towards the head of the bed. He saw Myrtle look up, and seeing that she was close enough to take hold of the headboard with both hands, she did. The arch of her back, her position and the sight of Myrtle bracing herself against his thrusts drove Draco over the edge. He exploded inside of her with a groan.

“Yes, Myrtle!” he groaned as he came, spilling his seed into her in satisfying jets. She arched back against him and he felt her shudder as his thrusts became instinctive and he finished. She moaned his name and he hoped that it would echo through this room forever, an indelible sound that had soaked into the walls. Myrtle pushed back against him hard, using the headboard for leverage as he rode his climax through her. While he was spent and he felt his cock stop twitching from his release, he continued to move inside of Myrtle slowly, keeping hold of her hips.

“Oh Myrtle! Oh gods, that was good.”

Yes Draco, will you keep going a little while longer? I’m close.”

“Yes, please, come on, once more,” he said, grinning. Draco was tingling ad tender but he kept going. He wanted to hear her moan his name again and she did, lurching against the headboard in the throes of her passion, desperately calling his name, urging him on, as she climaxed again from his cock delving deep inside her cunt.

Myrtle started to giggle and she went down onto her elbows, moving forwards, causing Draco to slip out of her. Draco carelessly flopped down onto the bed to her right, and Myrtle pulled herself up and sat back on her haunches and looked down at him, grinning. He sat up and kissed her briefly, then reached over to the bedside table and took up the butterbeer. They finished it together and then lie down again. Myrtle curled up against Draco, her naked body draped over his in a position he wished to the gods they could fall asleep in; her head against his shoulder, arm over his chest, breasts pressed against his side and the knee of her top leg draped over his thigh.

He relaxed against the bed and soaked in the feel of Myrtle, now warm, curled against him, breathing softly. He wanted to sleep with her so badly; he would have sacrificed another year of his life right then, if it had been offered. But it wasn't. He turned his head to look at the hourglass and it was dangerously close to running out.

“Oh Myrtle, oh dear...” Draco trailed off.

She looked at the hourglass and she wailed, because she knew what was coming. Myrtle turned to Draco and kissed him desperately and much too briefly, and then started looking around for her clothes. Draco hopped off of the bed and helped her look for the items of her clothing that had fallen on the floor; her knickers and her socks and her shoes, and her skirt had been pushed off to the foot of the bed. Draco walked around the bed to make sure he'd gotten everything. He gathered it all up and set it in a pile on the foot of the bed.

Myrtle got up out of the bed and she got dressed, and Draco did the same, gathering his clothes. Draco stole glances at her and saw the resigned look on her face, in-between looks of longing and sorrow. It only took her a few moments to get everything together and get dressed, and then Draco got his wand and cast a cleansing charm on her and straightened up her hair.

“Oh, Draco!” Myrtle exclaimed as she pitched against him. She started to cry, wrapping her arms around his waist as he smoothed out her hair. She looked up at him her eyes swimming with tears. She held him tightly but the tears kept flowing.

“Now, now, you don't want to discorporate while you're crying. Try to calm yourself. It’s going to be any moment now.” Draco tried to keep the emotion out of his voice.

Myrtle looked up at him plaintively. “Hold me while it happens,” She said. “Let the last thing I feel be you.”

Draco wrapped an arm around her waist and the other around her shoulders. He kissed her fiercely, hotly, surging his tongue into his mouth and she returned it. The kiss nearly buckled his legs, it was so intense. Draco felt himself getting hard again, a hardness he would never complete with her now.

As they embraced and kissed, her body started to discorporate against him. Myrtle shuddered and gasped, and he knew that she could feel the ritual starting to end. Her body began to fade and become transparent and insubstantial. He still had his lips against hers, and he kept that contact as long as it lasted, until he couldn’t feel her lips any more.

As he looked into her translucent eyes, her discorporation was complete and she shrieked, clutching herself.

“Oh, Draco, it hurts!”

Draco couldn’t fight it any more, weakness or emotion be damned. Tears sprang to his eyes. What had he done? She didn’t deserve this. He thought of everything they’d shared tonight and he hoped the memory of that would be enough to make her forgive him. A deep pang clutched at Draco’s heart, an ache he’d been fighting all evening which had finally clawed its way through his defenses.

She sobbed as long as her eyes were solid to cry with, and then she stood there, moaning and wailing in her despair. She floated before him now, no longer solid, warm, and tight. She was Moaning Myrtle again, the ghost who haunted the second floor lavatory, and Draco’s heart ached.

“Myrtle...”

“Draco...” She said sickly, and reached out to touch him. Her hand passed through his cheek and she moaned in frustration. “Draco.” She said again, her voice hitching in a sob.

There she stood, as translucent as ever, like when they’d first started talking, when he’d first started coming into the loo to get away from it all, to ponder the terrible things he was doing, and she'd merely listened. She looked like that now.

She moved to hug him, but of course her arms passed right through him. So she pantomimed standing against him and they pretended to hug, even though they couldn’t touch. He put his lips against her ghostly form, and even though he couldn’t feel her body he felt the cool tingle of her ghostly form against his lips. He ached for the real one.

They moved apart, and Myrtle floated before him as she always had.

"You can't just tap my misery on the shoulder and say you'd like to pop in for a visit.” She said, meeting his gaze. “It sticks with you. It changes you. It won't let you leave without making its mark."

"It already has."

"So?"

“Myrtle, I want to live.” Draco said firmly.

Myrtle smiled knowingly, and began to move towards the far wall. She stopped before she reached it and turned. She smiled at Draco and gave him a wave. “You’re still welcome in my lavatory, if you need to talk.” She said, and then disappeared through the wall.

If he'd learned anything from this experience, it was that he didn’t want to follow in his father’s footsteps into ruin and servitude. He knew he was being forced to do this thing by his father and the Dark Lord, and the notion of pureblood supremacy, but his experience tonight had taught him one thing: that he had a life to live, and it wasn’t anyone’s to live but his own. He did not want to be robbed the way that Myrtle had been robbed.

Draco silently began to clean up, gathering everything that he’d brought with him and placing it in the box. He spread the grave dirt around so that the circle was broken, and, tucking the box under his arm, stepped out into the hallway.

And nearly ran into the towering form of Professor Snape.

“Malfoy.” Snape intoned menacingly, his eyes yellow and threatening in this light.

“Sir?” Draco tried to keep his composure, and hoped he wasn’t sweating.

Professor Snape looked up and down the hall briefly, and then said, “Twenty points to Slytherin, for discovering an... entertaining use for an otherwise nasty bit of Necromancy.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Snape stepped to the side to let Draco pass, and he headed down the hall and back to his dormitory.


****

Millicent stood at the mirror in the lavatory and desperately tried to stifle a laugh, glancing over at her fellow Slytherin. Pansy's new hairstyle was, in a word, ridiculous.

Pansy Parkinson noticed the other girl’s poorly concealed smirk as she tried to get her hair to stay in the ribbons that Draco had given her. He’d been so insistent, and she’d finally relented, and even though no one in her own house dared to comment, she knew many of them thought her new pigtails looked silly.

“Not a word, Bulstrode.” Pansy snapped at her friend angrily. “Not a fucking word.”

From her hiding place in the drain, Myrtle snickered.