[A/N] Hellooooooooooo! So this is a new series of One-Shots I am going to write, called The Whispers. It's just going to be a series of emotions and/or events that the characters happen to face. The first one is a rarely-thought-of couple that I thought I'd try my hand on.
Disclaimer: I don't OWN Harry Potter or any of his magical world. They belong to J.K. Rowling...who has heaps of stuff to continue writing...HURRY UP ROWLING!
Anyway, enjoy this little one-shot that came to me :)
Draco ran into the bathroom and pressed his hand against his sweaty forehead. This was it. He was finished. No matter the cost to him, he wouldn't do what the Dark Lord wanted.
Suddenly, he faded out and slipped into a vision that was becoming increasingly common. Old Insect-Eyes would love to see him make a prediction now, wouldn't she?
The lock in the door clicked. Draco stared, transfixed, at the knob that was turning from the outside. He knew who it was going to be before the door opened. He was correct.
The Dark Lord strode into the room as if it was his own. His cold red eyes fixed themselves upon Draco's mother and father.
"Lucius, Narcissa," he acknowledged, his mouth curling into a taunting smile. "Your son has something to tell us."
Draco's knees buckled, and he fell to the floor. "I couldn't do it," he said in a weak voice, staring up into the shocked faces of his parents. His eyes were begging them to understand, to realise that it was too big a task for a mere sixteen-year-old.
Lucius' face became a shallow sneer, but Draco could see the hurt and sadness behind his eyes. "I am not worthy of a son like that, Master," he said to the Dark Lord. Draco knew that the words were an act, but they sliced him all the same.
The Dark Lord nodded approvingly. "And you, Narcissa?" He inclined his head towards her. Draco looked at his mother sadly. He knew that these confessions were all his fault, but he couldn't help it. I'm sorry he mouthed to her. Her eyes flashed toward him for a split second, giving him the confirmation that he needed.
She trembled under The Dark Lord's malicious gaze, but Narcissa's voice was firm. "I shall discard him as I did Sirius Black," she said confidently, but a single tear dripped from the corner of her eye.
The Dark Lord didn't miss a thing. "Liar!" he shrieked, flourishing his wand unintentionally. An ornate flowerpot fell from an antique pedestal and crashed, causing them all to jump.
"You are all not servants of mine. You are ruled by love of your son. Love." He accented his last word, making love sound like something dirty.
Lucius looked scared. "Master!" he whimpered, clutching and grovelling at the Dark Lord's feet. Draco was disgusted. His father was an embarrassment to the Malfoy establishment.
Narcissa, however, did not subject to the Dark Lord's will. She put her chin up proudly. Draco shivered. He knew what was to happen before it did.
"Avada Kedavra!" shrieked the Dark Lord. Narcissa's empty shell of a body crumpled to the floor, but there was a triumphant smile plastered on her lifeless features.
"Mother!" screamed Draco, and the same time that Lucius cried "Cissy!" Their eyes locked, and they realised what was about to happen.
"Avada Kedavra!" A girlish giggle followed the scream.
Draco jolted out of his vision. A girlish giggle? He turned to face a transparent girl with black glasses, two neat black braids and a coy smile.
"You're cute when you're in agony," she said sweetly, then giggled again. Draco flicked around back to the mirror.
His usually pale face was translucent. There were dark purplish circles around his eyes. His face looked drawn and weary, and it glistened with sweat.
He growled at the ghost. What was her name? Morgan? No. Mary? No. Myrtle! Yes, that was it. Moaning Myrtle, the ghost of the girls' bathrooms.
"Leave me alone," he snarled, pressing a hand to his forehead. He felt very queasy, and he leaned against the sink.
"Take off your cloak, it'll make you feel better," suggested Moaning Myrtle. She was grinning, and Draco couldn't figure out why.
Draco shrugged his coat off, and it worked wonders. His uncontrollable sweating slowed, and he didn't feel stuffy and sick.
"Now your tie," continued Myrtle. Draco sighed but removed his tie. His breathing evened out and he no longer felt suffocated.
"Don't forget to unbutton your shirt!" trilled Myrtle, sounding very much like a little girl who was going to get Christmas early. His fingers undid the top two buttons of his shirt and stopped.
He realised what he was doing. He was stripping. In front of a ghost. A female ghost. Myrtle's childish giggle floated out of an open cubicle, where she was sitting with her head resting in her hands.
"What a shame," she said, sighing. "I would have admired your chest." Draco looked horrified. He took a step back, and glared at her.
"Who do you think you –" He stopped and looked at her again. He was drinking in her features. Her beautiful, big, dark eyes that stared at him, doe-like. The cute button nose that was positioned perfectly in her wide, oval face. The plump, delicate lips that curved up to form a blinding smile of pearly teeth. And the lustrous sheen that she seemed to give off, even in the darkness.
Myrtle winked, and Draco blushed. His heart was hammering in his chest. Why? Why did it have to be that he fell in love with a ghost? Even after all those years snogging Pansy Parkinson, he had never had this sort of reaction. Damn it!
"You know, Draco," began Myrtle matter-of-factly, "you could drown yourself with the water here. We could spend an eternity here, playing pranks on the foolish students, not afraid of being separated by death."
Draco considered the option. It was a very tempting possibility. One that would also – coincidentally – get him out of his Death Eater duties.
He stopped thinking of an eternity of Myrtle. He jerked his gaze away from her. He thought of the brutal murders of his parents, which would be confirmed if he killed himself.
Myrtle floated closer, walking her ice-cold fingers up his arm. Even though they had no substance, Draco shivered in delight. "What do you say?" she asked seductively.
Draco bit his lip. He had two futures ahead of him, and both had very tempting options. Both were governed by love, but they were different loves. And he had to choose.
"Myrtle," he said slowly, savouring the way her name felt on his tongue. He called her lovingly and gently. "Myrtle, we can never be together."
Myrtle looked mock-hurt. "Why?" she asked playfully, smacking his arm. Draco treasured the bucket-of-ice feeling of her fingers. It felt like heaven on his clammy skin.
He smiled grimly. "Because of this," he said, pulling back the cloth covering his left forearm, exposing the skull and snake tattooed there. The Dark Mark.
Myrtle cocked her head to one side. "What's that?" she asked, pointing to the Dark Mark. "If you mean that I won't like you because of a tattoo, you are mistaken."
Draco raised an eyebrow. "It's the mark of the Dark Lord," he said gravely. Myrtle still didn't understand, and Draco felt himself getting angry. "VOLDEMORT!" he yelled. Dust fell from the stone walls and ceiling.
Myrtle sighed. "Draco, you must remember that I come from after your time," she said patiently, resting a cool hand on Draco's forehead.
"But you must have heard of V-V-Voldem-mort," he stammered, his anger abating. With his anger gone, he found it quite nerve-racking to say the Dark Lord's name.
"Pray tell, who is this Voldemort you speak of?" she asked jovially, a smile lighting her eyes up. Draco could not help but be mesmerised by her beauty. Then he recalled what she had said.
"Don't say the name!" he hissed. She looked shocked, but stayed silent. Draco gathered that she was waiting for the story. Sighing in defeat, he began his retelling. Myrtle maintained her composure throughout.
When he had finished, though, she couldn't hold in her doubt any longer. She rounded on him. "This, this –" She groped for a word to use other than his name.
"The Dark Lord," spat Draco.
Myrtle readjusted her glasses, which had been slipping further down her nose. "So, you don't mean to say that this – Dark Lord or whatever – was really Riddle?" she asked. Draco nodded. "But he was such a model student!"
Draco nodded again. "Even the best of us have a Dark side. We can choose whether or not to follow it."
"It sounds like something from Star Wars," mused Myrtle. Seeing Draco's blank look, she grinned. "It's a muggle thing."
Draco looked taken aback. "You're a mudblood?" he spat out disdainfully, to cover up his disbelief. He had always been raised to think (and had always thought) that muggles and mudbloods were underneath him. Now he was being forced to reconsider what he thought. Oh well, he thought, better late than never.
"Yes," sniffed Myrtle, looking on the verge of tears. Draco tried to pat her arm awkwardly.
"I'm sorry," he said softly, and he really meant it, with all his heart and soul. With a shock he realised that Myrtle had been killed by the Basilisk. He felt guilty but at the same time grateful, as if it wasn't for her, he wouldn't have been able to choose between what was right, and what was easy. He would find a way to make sure that his parents survived, and yet it wasn't him who killed Dumbledore.
Seeing Draco's determined expression, Myrtle choked on a laugh. "What is it?" she asked playfully. "Have you decided to spend eternity with me?" She was playful, but her eyes were serious. She didn't dare to hope.
"No," said Draco plainly, and all traces of emotion vanished from the faces of them both. They were both trying to hide the turmoil of emotions within them. Hurt. Sadness. Anger. Confusion. Love.
"I'm going to live, Myrtle." Seeing her sad expression, Draco pressed on, although it hurt. "I'm going to save my family. I'm going to do what the Dark Lord has asked me to do. It may not be easy, but it feels right."
Myrtle's eyes flashed with anger. "Righter than loving me?" she snapped, her voice harsh and bitter. Draco flinched.
"No," he said gently. "There will be nothing in this world that feels more right than loving you, Myrtle. But I have to go…" His words trailed off and they stared into each others' eyes.
"Who knows, we may meet up again," he joked, a smile breaking out over his face again. Myrtle's face softened too, and Draco's smile grew wider. He thought she was prettiest when she was like this.
"I would like that," she said warmly, reaching out and stroking Draco's hair. "I love you, Draco," she declared boldly.
Draco smiled fondly. "I love you too, Myrtle." He reached out and gently stroked her cheekbone, and he watched her shiver with pleasure.
He turned to go, but her vice-like ice fingers wrapped around his wrist. "Wait," she breathed into his ear, and he turned.
He wasn't expecting what happened next. She leaned into his face, and she hesitated, an opaque blush spreading delicately across her cheeks. Then she closed her eyes determinedly, and pressed her lips to his.
Blood boiled beneath Draco's skin, and he moaned as he moved his lips in sync with hers. It was like dipping his lips in a bowl of snow, but it spread warmth throughout his body.
They both leaned away, breathing deeply. "I'll never forget you," they whispered together, and they turned to go in their opposite ways.
As Draco exited the bathroom, he heard a faint girlish giggle.
Draco stood on Platform 9 ¾ next to his wife and his son, Scorpius. As he watched the wind play with his wife's blonde hair, he had visions of another girl's hair.
He remembered Myrtle, and her icy-cold sheen. Her delicious looks tantalised him, and he realised that there was no-one on this earth – not even his wife, whom he loved with all his heart – that could compare to her.
As Scorpius boarded the train to Hogwarts, his chubby little hand waving out of the window, Draco imagined himself, forever captured as a ghost, on that train. Going to reunite with Myrtle, his long lost love.
The one with whom he had shared his first Whispers of Love
[A/N] Sooooooooo...What did you think? Did I portray the romance okay? I'm not so good with romance - having not experienced it first-hand - but I have a sense of it from reading books. I'm a nerd, okay. That's why I have no love life and exceptional grades.
Enough about me!
See ya soon, with another one-shot. The next one will be called Whispers of Death. Got any idea what it might be about?