Written for Muggle Studies (When there's intersection: the lines meet at one point and then never see each other again)
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Draco had never really paid much mind to the ghosts of Hogwarts. They had always been there; they were there before him and would be there long after him. He had never really thought about them. That was until he started to feel like a ghost himself.
Even when rested on the stone windowsill, his knuckles were a deadly white, the veins tracing light patterns underneath. He knew his face was the same shade of pale as his hands and that his eyes had dulled into faded grey by now, as has his hair to a frosty appearance. He looked like death. He felt like a ghost.
He hadn't really made that comparison to the undead until he started to know them. It was two in particular that made him feel so lifeless. One had taken several times of talking to in order to bring about that depression in him. The other, the one he was currently sharing the forgotten hallway with, had only taken a single look for Draco to feel completely numb.
The woman was as grey as her name said. Where Draco felt washed out and faded, this woman really was. The Grey Lady. He'd never met her before now. She'd always taken to a different part of the castle than he ventured, and she was known to avoid Slytherin's – Draco figured it had something to do with the rumor that the Baron killed her. But she wasn't running from him now. Instead, she simply floated a few feet from where he was leaning into the open window. She had her own window, and was reaching out of it with a frown.
"Looks like rain," she said. Her voice was flat, devoid of any clear emotion on the surface. Draco knew the trick oh too well. He picked up on the subtle impression of despair that was in her words.
Draco grunted in response. "When doesn't it rain here?"
"Point." The Grey Lady continued to stare out the window. "I used to love the rain. I used to love the way it felt."
Draco raised an eyebrow at the ghost. She was reaching further out the window, grasping at something. A moment later, Draco heard the patter of rain. It wasn't much, just a few drops here and there. Reaching out, Draco felt a single drop touch his skin. A moment later, another.
"What of you?" The Grey Lady turned to him. "Are you a fan of the rain?"
Draco glanced at her from the side, before turning his gaze back out onto the Hogwarts landscape. It was foggy out, a little dark in the sky, but that was to be expected for this time of evening. The clouds hung over heavy, a sign that the light drizzle had the chance to increase. Another droplet of rain touched against Draco's skin. It was cold, ran down his hand slowly, and still he kept his hand out in the rain.
He used to love the rain – the feel of it in his hair, it running down his hands and over his face. He had often gone out into the storms and just sat there as a child. His father had never approved of the habit and had squashed that desire quickly. Still, there were times when Draco just liked the feel of the rain.
"I hate it," he lied to her. Glancing at the Grey Lady, he frowned, "I hate the rain."
She looked at him for a moment, a frown on her lips. "A shame."
"Ya," Draco muttered. He turned his hand over so that the slow falling rain tapped against his exposed palm. "A shame."
There was silence once more between them. Draco wasn't going to complain though. There had once been a time when he had dreaded silence, but now it seemed he couldn't get enough of it lately. He just wanted to not be surrounded by the constant noise of life.
Maybe that was why he took to the dead so much, because of the simple fact that they were not alive. The rain began to pick up slightly. Still it wasn't enough to be considered a real storm, but it was enough to give Draco a chill as each droplet touched his cold skin.
"I think summer rain is my favorite." The Grey Lady began speaking again. She wasn't looking anywhere but the window, almost like she had forgotten Draco's presence. She reached out towards the rain, only for it to pass through her hand. "I liked how the chill felt in comparison to the warm weather. I think that was my favorite thing about summer. It's what I miss most about it."
The ghost trailed off. A sad smile graced her lips. For a moment there seemed to be a light in her dull gaze, but it faded quickly.
"You're not like most the others," she began to speak again, only slower now. "You have a light to you, even if you don't want it shown. You remind me of myself at that age. So eager to please. So weighed down by expectations. Just trying to hold onto life."
Draco looked at the ghost just as she looked at him. For a moment, he was confused on what had prompted her to even say these things to him. They had never talked prior, and he had never known her to really talk to students. So for her to just come out and strike up conversation unnerved him a bit. At the same time though, he welcomed any dialogue he could get that didn't revolve around the Dark Lord and missions and failures.
"Don't let go of that life," the Grey Lady said. Once more, she looked away. She twisted her hand through the rain, and like before it just went through her.
The woman's words made Draco tense. He wondered if she knew something she shouldn't, or if she could just sense his slowly loosening hold on life and reality. Either way, as he watched the ghost he began to grow tense. The slow healing set of scars that ran along his chest – compliments of Potter and his stupid curse a week ago – began to ache. There was a burning sensation where the Dark Mark had been branded into his skin.
She turned to face him, a hand trailing in the windowsill. "Maybe one day you can learn to love the rain again."
She left Draco standing in silence as she floated down the hall. He followed her progress with his gaze until she vanished through a far wall. He remained staring off at where she'd left, a bit confused still over the whole ordeal. A slight breeze blew through the open window, taking his gaze onto the soft storm.
He sighed, leaning his weight into the windowsill. Balancing himself on one arm, he used the other to reach back out into the cold rain. It seemed appropriate that it would rain that night, considering what he would be doing in the next few hours. With a heavy heart, Draco withdrew from the window. Closing the glass window panel, Draco paused for a moment to gaze at the cloudy sky.
There was no turning back now.
With the knowledge that the Dark Mark would soon grace the skies of Hogwarts, and the Grey Lady's words still in his mind, Draco latched the window shut and turned in the opposite direction the ghost had departed. He shoved his hands in his pockets and moved away trying not to think too hard on his last night at Hogwarts, and the one and only conversation he would ever have with the Grey Lady.