Stuck in This Deep
Myrtle remembered the first time he had visited her bathroom.
He had burst in, clutching his left forearm. He looked terrifying, his eyes (which were the colour of light rain, she noticed) blazing with furious fire, but she saw something in those eyes, a hidden sadness was similar to her own. She didn't move, just watched as he slid down a wall onto the wet floor, and buried his face in his arms. He shook silently with violent, convulsing sobs, and Myrtle felt she ought to comfort him though she really didn't know how. She sat herself next to him, ignoring the uncomfortable sensation of bathroom water passing through her body.
After a while he stopped shaking, and before Myrtle could even think about saying something or doing anything else to announce her presence, he lifted his head and stared at her straight in the eyes (his were still wet).
She didn't say anything, and neither did he.
Then he got up, wiped his eyes with a (already sopping) sleeve, gave Myrtle the tiniest smile (just a quirk of his lips really, but she liked think of it as a smile), and left.
The next time he came, he was already crying. He stumbled in, slammed the door closed, and spent a moment holding it there, panting. Without meeting Myrtle's eyes, he stalked over to the driest spot on the floor and sat down wearily.
'Potter's onto me,' he whispered hoarsely, his voice thick through the tears. 'He knows I was the one who almost killed Bell and the blood traitor, and if he proves it – '
Myrtle flinched at the mention of killing, and hoped that he hadn't seen it. He had, glancing up at her and, to her great surprise, smiled, a mirthless smile that frightened her.
'But that all doesn't matter, does it? The cabinet's almost fixed, it's all coming together. I'll lead the followers of the Dark Lord,' he continued, 'and then - '
'Then what?' Myrtle asked. It was the first time she had spoken to him. 'You'll help my murderer murder some more innocents?'
He glanced at the Mudblood ghost. She was eerily calm, which was weird as he had been expecting her to run (or do whatever ghosts do) and scream her silly head off when she heard about his master. He doesn't know what to say, everything was so completely mixed up and he was just so, so confused about it all.
So he didn't say anything, and she smiled. She wasn't angry, upset or whatever. She was just cool (such a difference from everyone else) and he was grateful that there was finally someone who didn't push him for answers he didn't have.
He came in more frequently since then, and began to tell her more things. They troubled her, he knew that, but she still listened. How she knew that that was what he needed he had no idea. Sometimes he doubted her (he had been taught to trust no one) but he pushed the doubts away whenever they surfaced.
He told her so many things. She knew how he was oh, so tired of it all, the secrecy, the plotting, how he had to watch his tongue all the time and was supposed to trust absolutely nobody (secretly she was glad that he trusted her). She knew how the other followers were all waiting for him to fail but he knew that he had to pull through, not only just for his sake but also for his parents. She knew when he had slowly realised that he wasn't doing it so much because he believed in it anymore, but that he was doing it because how could he stop, how could he back out now?
Myrtle wanted to tell him that it was going to work out, she really did. She could see how the need to be strong and the need to collapse were battling each other in his mind, and truthfully she couldn't see any way that the whole thing could blow over. There was a growing sense of uneasiness inside her stomach (or whatever ghosts had) as she realised that what she did could affect the situation; after all, she was supposed to be on the good side, the right side.
She also knew that he trusted her, and that she didn't have it in her to betray him to Dumbledore. Of course, it wouldn't really be a betrayal, she had never promised him anything, and it'd be helping him really. But how could she, when she was clearly the only one he trusted, his only support (and in some ways, ways that she didn't dare admit to herself, he was hers)?
Then she got scared. She was stuck in this deep, but, just like him, she couldn't back out, if only because she had to stand by her (only) friend. She hadn't been brave enough to be Gryffindor in her day, but maybe she could manage one (at least one) brave act in her (miserable) lifetime.
And if it all went wrong, he was (forever and always) welcome to share her bathroom.
A/N: I don't own Myrtle or Draco, they're Rowling's. As usual, reviews - concrit, flames, songs of praise - would be appreciated. Thanks for reading.