He was laying on his bed, in the dorms just staring at the canvas over the bed. It was the weekend, and he had told his dorm mates to bugger off. He was hoping for peace, for quiet. For solitude.
"Really Malfoy? Kicking out your roommates? That's not very nice." She said it with mock reprimand.
Draco grabbed his pillow and put it over his face, hoping to drown out her voice.
"That's not going to woooooork." She sang. "I would have thought that by now, you would know that, but then again, you weren't always the brightest."
"Go away, Granger," he said through the pillow.
"Sorry. Can't." She didn't sound sorry.
Malfoy removed the pillow and stood up. She was sitting on Zabini's bed, her legs crossed with her right arm resting on her right knee, her hand supporting her head. She was wearing that pink striped shirt and Muggle jeans. Her hair was loose and puffy around her face. It looked so much like it used to, all frizzy. It wasn't supposed to be that way. She wasn't supposed to be here.
He left the room and traveled down to the Common Room, past his classmates and the dark furniture, and out the painting that served as the door. He walked along the empty corridor and made a right, but she was leaning against the wall. This time she had on her Hogwarts uniform; the black knee length skirt and the white button up shirt. She had a sweater over the shirt, but she wasn't wearing her robes. Her hair was still bushy. She was looking at the fingernails on her right hand.
"Running again, Malfoy? You were always good at that."
He walked past her and up the stairway that lead to the moving stairs. He took one that lead to the Great Hall, but instead of going in, he left out of the entrance to the castle, past the fountain, out of the courtyard, and to the lake. He sat down and leaned back against the tree, closing his eyes for the momentary peace and quiet.
"Beautiful day outside, don't you think?" She was lying in the grass on her stomach. She had her legs swinging back and forth in the air. She was still wearing the Hogwarts uniform.
Draco got up again, but he ran this time. He was glad he wasn't wearing his robes or they'd slow him down. He ran toward the Forbidden Forest. He raced through the branches ignoring the scrapes on his face and the branches whipping at him. He ran until his lungs burnt and he was heaving for breath. He was in a clearing, with dead leaves and pine needles, bent over gasping for air.
"Always, always trying to get away. How long do you plan to keep this up Malfoy?"
"Just leave me alone," he said, still gasping.
"We've already been over this," she said, annoyed.
She was standing in front of him, with arms folded. There was silence for a moment in the clearing. He hadn't had this silence in months. But he ruined it.
"Why?" He panted, and he just looked at her, waiting for an answer. He had never asked her why, had never questioned, and he just wanted to know. He wanted to know why him, why now, just why?
She stalked forward and started walking around him.
"Why not? You tortured me in life," she whispered in his ear. "I torture you in death." She had said it in a deeper tone, almost cruel.
"You see Malfoy; it's all just a viscous cycle. A person feels down, so they pick on someone else to feel stronger, to feel bigger. And that person, the one getting picked on feels down, so they pick on someone to feel bigger and stronger. The bullied becomes the bully."
She walked off to stand in front of him again.
"You're dead. You're supposed to stay dead. Not become a ghost."
She gave him a cruel, sardonic smile. "Who says I'm a ghost? Maybe you're just crazy Malfoy, and I'm a figment of your imagination. After all, the real Hermione Granger wouldn't stay behind, afraid of death."
He knew she wasn't real. He had hoped otherwise, but he had known since that first smirk that she had given him. At first he had thought she was a ghost, but everyone was supposed to see ghosts. And only he could see her. The sad part was that he knew why she had manifested from his thoughts in the first place.
"Guilt."
She was in his face now, so close he could feel the heat radiating from her, and he knew that was impossible.
"Guilt for tormenting me, for watching me being tortured by your aunt as you did nothing, guilt for my death. For not being able to stop it, when you could've."
He wanted to protest, to argue for himself, but he couldn't.
"Come now Draco," she was whispering in his ear again, "you know you could've. But you let dear Auntie Bella take the knife and plunge it into my heart. You did nothing. Nothing but stand there like the coward you are, and look on as my dirty blood spilled onto your floor. You stood there as the life drained out of me, looking me in the eyes with your useless silent apology. You even stayed frozen as Ron charged your Aunt with the sword, as Harry shot curse after curse at your father. You didn't even put up a fight when Voldemort Crucioed you into unconsciousness, or when they lead you away to Azkaban. You are inactive, ineffective. You just watched the world go by as they carried out your sentence, not even caring what it was. You-"
"I'M SORRY!"
It burst from his lips and he sank to his knees. He sat there pathetically weeping, while the hallucination of Granger stood there staring at him with a stony face. He repeated 'I'm sorry' over and over again, a mantra that he'd had in his head since the moment at the Manor.
The hallucination walked forward and crouched in front of him. She raised her hands and brushed away his tears with her thumbs, and he could feel where her skin had touched him. He could feel his tears being wiped away and spread across his cheeks. It wasn't the phantom feeling, but the real thing. He looked up to see a smile. It was a genuine smile, one he had seen on Granger when she was alive. He was seeing the real Granger, as she had been.
He blinked and she was gone.
He was alone in the clearing with the dead leaves and dead pine needles with the dying trees and grass. He looked around waiting for her to pop back up, but after a moment, she still wasn't there.
Blessed silence.