AN: Fluff piece! Wc is 1061

All I had to include was Myrtle Warren (aka Myrtle the Ghost)

Magpies Seeker

The day is yesterday and the young are the future.

Yet I have been here forever.

This place, Hogwarts, has stood as both protector and tormentor.

I have seen it all.

I am access.

Advantage.

A bright, yellow, afternoon.

I am winter.

I am spring.

Both anywhere and nowhere.

Accident and intention.

You can witness me and forget me, but I do not, will not, forget you.

I will certainly not do that.

/

"Morning Draco!" The Prefect called, waving as she walked past.

"Morning." He squeaked, returning to his book The passage he was invested in was too exciting to be put down – even at his early hour of the morning. He had chosen this secluded hallway by the Prefects bathroom to read due to the rather low level of foot traffic.

"He was not what was to be expected of a lord - he was not too pale from too many hours indoors - nor was he thin where he should be fat. He looked - as best as it could be described - perfect. There were three visible scars; one on his jawline - falling between his left ear and jaw - the second on just under his right eye - it was small and crooked like a twig- and the last lay on his lips, cutting across both top and bottom lip on an angle.

He had a strong face with fine features, with a square jaw that was clean shaven and held on an elegant neck - his lips were dark like blood, curling into a gentle resting smile - and the collar of his shirt created a crown below his jawline. His nose was normal enough - it looked broken, perhaps from a time when he has used the shield that rested on the side of his saddle.

But it was his eyes - the orbs of dark chocolate that seemed lit from within- that drew people in. They twinkled as if he knew everyone's secret while having the depths to ensnare anyone he fancied. The most surprising feature was his hair; it was a silver blonde, glittering in the sunlight like it had been polished and waxed. It was long, hanging over his shoulders as part of blew lightly in the wind. He could not have been more than thirty five, but small wrinkles from worry and stress were present around his eyes.

He wore a shirt of the most magnificent green, a black cloak sitting on his shoulders as he rode, gloves covering his hands. The fabric of his shirt could not hide the broad shoulders and the large muscles of his arms and chest. The fabric billowed around his middle - but for those who had an astute gaze could tell he did not have a drinker's stomach. He wore dark trousers that seemed tight against his legs which were heavily muscled.

He was, by all means of looks, perfect.

Riding in the center of the team of guards, he was like a beacon in the dark. Even the small children stopped their playing to look at him. He smiled freely, nodding at those as he went by with such an easiness to his countenance. Even from afar he was loveable; yet it was apparent there was a coldness to him; his back was too stiff and his actions too robotic.

One of his men leaned in from his horse, speaking in hushed tones that could not be identified when the Lord's head swiveled - his hair moving in the wind created by the movement as his eyes snapped to one particular direction; watching as if he had seen a ghost. His lips parted as if saying a name; his eyes holding a tenderness that was unmatched. Only after a time did he slowly turn his head back to his baffled servant, and the man's face returned to its previous state."

"What are you reading?" A voice squeaked in his ear, making him jump; him book flying out of his hands.

"Who goes there?" He demanded, looking around frantically as blood rushed to his face.

"Oh," the voice hiccupped, "No one special. Just little old me."

"That's not an answer," Draco replied, "Tell me who you are before I-"

"Oohh," she squeaked, floating through one of the nearby walls, making a face at him. "What are you going to do? Tell your daddy you were reading naughty books from the restricted section of his library?"

"You're that nasty Mudblood that died all those years ago." Draco announced loudly, seeing some people turn and stare in the distance.

"That's not a very strong comeback," Myrtle giggled, picking up the book and flipping through the pages, "I've heard it all before you know."

"Give that to me!" He barked, extending his hand.

Myrtle snapped the book shut, flying over to him – circling round. "What's to stop me from telling all the other ghosts that Draco Malfoy has a… bad habit of reading smutty male romance novels? Hmm?" she asked, her voice giggly in his ears as held the book just out of his reach. "What's to prevent me from telling….oh," she laughed, her normal terrible laugh. "Harry Potter?"

"What?" Draco froze, his skin going a shade paler – if at all possible. "You…wouldn't."

"That's who you are fantasizing about it," she whispered, "Isn't it? With his 'parted lips'?" Myrtle giggled, twirling around. "Were you imagining Harry riding on that horse, strong and manly? His dark hair blowing in the wind?"

"Stop it."

"Tell me Draco, is that a wand in your pocket or are you just happy to see me." She asked, pushed his glasses higher on her ghostly nose.

"Don't." He pleaded.

"My," she announced, "You are rather a big boy aren't you."

Draco swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, sitting down; defeated. "Yes. Merlin, yes." He had to admit it to someone. "I'm in love with Harry. Please don't tell anyone."

The ghost stopped, blinked and floated over slowly. "Only if you promise to come talk about him with me. He's sort of a favorite of mine."

"I will," Draco heard himself say, wondering what he was getting himself into, "I promise."

She giggled, and laughed – twirling and spinning while Draco put his head in his hands. He only hoped she would forget about this little incident sooner than he would.