Ghost
A black-clad man stumbled over a protruding cobblestone in the middle of the street. Two women that were standing nearby the gate leading to one of the houses gasped in unison and clutched their heaving chests.
"Oh, Lord. But he gave me a fright!" exclaimed the taller one, recovering.
"I could swear he appeared out of thin air!" The other was still catching her breath.
The stranger walked slowly, clasping the sides of his high collar over the lower part of his face, as if obscuring it, or maybe simply blocking an awful stench of the nearby river. His white-blond hair was tousled by the wind. Cold, autumnal sun was setting and did little to soften his sharp features.
"Give it a rest, Lucy! You and your fairy-tales! First ghosts, and now people appearing out of nowhere!" The taller woman didn't bother to lower her voice and the man angled his head a bit. "He just scared us, that's all, and you shouldn't talk that much about ghosts. People started to give you strange looks, I'll have you know."
"Give it a rest? What do you mean, give it a rest? I only told what I saw with my own eyes!" The woman called Lucy pointed to them as if there was a doubt which ones were hers. "I tell you, Betty Whieldon, strange things happen here. And not just now, either. First on Spinner's End at the Snapes' and now here."
She gestured with her chin towards the neglected, overgrown playground, with rusty roundabout and swings peeking out over the hedge.
Betty Whieldon exclaimed in an even louder voice, "And how come you know what happened on Spinner's End?"
The stranger came to a sudden halt, but neither of the gossiping women noticed.
"As you very well know, I was bringing supper to the mill for my father—God rest his soul—when he worked the night shift. The shortest way leads right there! I heard different noises and saw shapes soaring behind the curtains." She put her fists on her hips, ready to fight in defence of her discoveries.
But Betty merely snorted and agreed for the first time.
"I bet you did. Sometimes he was shouting, sometimes she. Sometimes he hurled a vase at her and sometimes he pushed her down the stairs. They are quite different noises."
All doggedness fled from Lucy's face, now replaced with curiosity.
"And now who's talking too much?" There was no real accusation in her voice. "Well, everybody knew that they weren't exactly that well-matched but I've never seen her with bruises or a broken arm." She squinted as if trying to remember, but Betty didn't leave her enough time.
"The point is that nobody's seen her often in the first place," she announced with triumph and lifted her eyebrows meaningfully.
"I certainly saw her a few times outside the school, waiting for her son, and sometimes in the shop..."
"Sometimes." Betty had little patience for her companion's naïveté. "You'd think that shopping should be done every day, not sometimes. Not that I think they had enough money, mind you. Remember the clothes they wore? Geez! I always wondered if she chose them on purpose, you know. Even random, mismatched pieces of clothes would be better than what she made him wear. And he was quite touchy about it, too. Well, who wouldn't be? I'll never forget the fight Sev picked with Thomas: he launched at him with his fingernails and scratched half of his face nastily. If you ask me, the scratches looked quite like burns, and they healed quite badly, too. He was never one to keep clean, mind you."
The blond set off abruptly.
"Only a girl from the outside could marry a Snape. You're new here, but Whieldons lived here for four generations. My grandmother used to say that it's better for a woman to go to work at the mill than to marry one of the Snapes..."
Their voices dimmed as the blond man turned a corner and walked into poorly lit street that lead along the smelly river.
Twilight started to gather, mercifully covering the long ago abandoned and bedraggled tenements in deep shadows.
The young man walked to the very end of the street. The house seemed neglected, but at least the windows were not boarded up. He walked up to the door and knocked hesitatingly, then louder. When nobody answered he reached for the knob, but the door wouldn't budge. He sighed, looked around and reached inside his cloak pocket. When he removed his hand, it was clutching a pointy tool, half-hidden in his coat's sleeve; but instead of trying to manipulate the lock with it, the man simply tapped it on the door, muttering under his breath.
Something rusty clicked and the door swung open with an unpleasant squeak. The dark figure slid inside and in a moment the door swung shut with such a force that it rattled on its hinges.
The man jumped and pointed his wand directly ahead of him. Suddenly, he felt an unpleasant coldness, as if someone had drowned him in icy water.
"It's Draco Malfoy, Headmaster!"
"I cannot remember sending an invitation, Draco." The voice was as cold as its owner. The source of the voice was behind Draco, above his shoulder. Draco couldn't bring himself to turn around and face his old professor.
"I know," he gulped. "I... I came here to warn you." The poor choice of words triggered the outburst of fury from Snape, just as Draco had feared.
"Warn me? Warn me, boy?" The silvery presence of the infuriated Potions Master whipped around from behind him and hovered right before Draco.
Draco backed away two steps, where the wooden surface of the door trapped him. Ever since his close encounters with the Dark Lord, Draco didn't like people - or ghosts - moving too quickly. The fact that as a ghost Snape couldn't hurt him didn't register at once.
"Don't... don't..." Draco moaned, and before he'd decided what to say, the ghost floated into the sitting room and stopped, half-sunken into the bookcase. Draco doubted Snape had even noticed. The boy swept the hair that had fallen into his eyes and followed Snape into the tiny room.
"I only wanted to say that maybe you should limit yourself to your house, where Muggles can't see you."
"Maybe this will surprise you, Draco, but I do not intend to limit myself on either the Ministry's nor Muggles' accounts."
Draco sighed. He never thought it would be easy to persuade Severus Snape.
"There were many signals mentioned and even a few official reports about Muggles in this town noticing the magical activity. There is no other magical being apart from you."
Snape's ghost whipped on the spot to face Draco, who couldn't help but wince.
"Being, now, am I?" he murmured bitterly.
"Professor, please! There's no point in scolding me. They won't leave you alone if you continue to bother those damn Muggles! Don't you understand that they have the means—and the right—" he snorted at that, "to bind you to the place of their choice. Or to banish you completely," he added in the undertone, casting his eyes down.
"They will do whatever they wish, just like myself, thank you." Severus seemed to lose interest in the subject.
Draco balled his fists in an attempt at controlling his anger and exasperation. Snape must understand that it was a true and very realistic danger. The Ghost Intervention Squads didn't have much to do, so it was matter of one day at best to send one here and have the job done.
Draco couldn't fathom why Snape insisted on staying here in this dirty and smelly almost-ruin, surrounded by Muggles he so despised, and if he really wanted it for some unimaginable reason, then why wasn't he more cautious about it?
"Why don't you move with us?" he asked quietly.
Draco's parents and Draco himself sincerely asked Severus to move into Malfoy Manor. They claimed it would be an honour to have him under their roof, and they meant it.
His ex-professor and protector kept on refusing with unwavering stubbornness. Now he didn't even grace him with an answer.
Draco tried different approach.
"Why did you stay here?" he asked almost timidly, as if he was asking a highly intimate question. "Potter had said you loved his mother and you did all of this," he gestured vaguely with his hand, "because of her. Don't you want to see her? I'm sure she's grateful and proud of you."
"Do you want to get rid of me?" Snape raised his brows in an all too familiar gesture.
"No, I don't," answered Draco simply.
Snape turned his back to the boy slowly, bowing his head and murmuring so low Draco had to strain his ears to hear him.
"Do you really think I want to see this idyll there? Family and friends' reunion? Everlasting, never-ending happiness?" His voice cracked on the last word. He slowly turned back to Draco. "There's no hope for me to ever see her again. I... I don't even want to." His face was impassive, just like when he'd been speaking to the Dark Lord.
Draco didn't need Legilimency to notice that slight stumble over his words, nor to detect a lie. It didn't change the fact that he didn't know what to do about it.
"If I knew how to goad you to go with me, I would. Promise me that if you ever change your mind about staying here, you'll stay with us."
Severus grunted incomprehensibly then softly said, "I will," clearly touched by Draco's care.
"I'll be going." Draco gathered his cloak tighter around himself. "One more thing. I have a favour to ask of you."
Severus snorted with sarcasm.
"As if a Malfoy would leave after being granted only one request!"
"It's important!" Draco stood before Snape and straightened his back. "They'll banish you if you don't listen to me and don't stop running into those damned Muggles."
"I don't run into any idiotic Muggles!"
"Oh, please, don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about! When I had Apparated here I bumped into two local women. They were talking about you..."
"They don't know I'm here," snapped the ghost impatiently.
"Yet."
There was silence. Draco sighed tiredly.
"One of them explicitly said that she saw a ghost on the playground. How many stray ghosts there are in this godforsaken town, do you think? Why do you have to hang out there of all places, for Merlin's sake!"
"I do not- What did you say?"
Without waiting for an answer, Snape whirled on the spot and bolted across the room, through the kitchen and to the back room.
Draco, completely confused, dashed after him.
"Where are you-! Headmaster! SNAPE!"
Snape vanished into the furthest wall, and Draco swore almost colliding with it. He wanted to Apparate but stopped himself at the last moment, almost Splinching. It wouldn't do to be seen Apparating again; the ghost stories were enough to get the Ministry interested. He could bet his Gringotts account that those gossips stood right in the same spot he'd left them.
Draco turned on his heel and ran for the door. He opened it with one fierce tug, shut it after himself and ran as fast as he could. He had the presence of mind to hide his wand. When he bolted into the main street he stopped abruptly, half-expecting a crowd of Muggles shouting, fainting and finger-pointing. To his surprise, however, there was no-one.
Draco started walking slowly towards the overgrown yard. He squinted into the gathering darkness, trying to decide if he saw anything. The swing was swaying back and forth. Then he noticed the silver swirl among the branches. He quickened his pace. What the hell did Snape think he was doing? Any minute now any Muggle staring out of the window or walking past the yard could see him!
Draco released his breath, trying to calm himself. Shouting would lead him nowhere with Snape.
Approaching, Draco noticed that the mist was really two silvery figures standing with bent heads and joined at hands. Draco froze. The other ghost had long hair, falling heavily along the line of her neck and back. Snape gathered her chin and tilted it upward. He seemed to be content with merely staring into her eyes.
Draco woke up from his stupor when he heard the muffled gasp behind his back. He whirled around to find himself eye to eye with the plump woman - was it Lucy? - who cradled an empty milk bottle to her chest. She turned her wild eyes to him, grasped him by the sleeve and screeched, "Can you see it? I think they are kissing!"
Draco felt colour rising in his cheeks. He had stared at his Potions Master and his long-lost love's reunion just as this brainless Muggle woman had—as if it were some show. He felt ashamed and whipped his wand at the clueless woman, casting a Memory Charm at her with more force than was necessary. The woman swayed on her feet and stared at Draco as if she'd never seen a human being. Draco spoke in a sure and convincing voice.
"Yes, I saw this cat, too. It was almost white, looked like a ghost among those bushes. Could give a fright. Good night," he bowed slightly and walked away.
The woman looked around confused, her pupils dilated, and finally noted a milk bottle still nestled to her breasts. She seemed to wake up, placed the bottle next to the door and entered the house.
When Draco heard the door shut, he risked a glance over his shoulder. The woman was gone; he didn't see her face peering out the window, so he'd probably done everything right.
Out of the corner of his eye he noted that something was still glittering among the leaves in the playground. He didn't look closely. Maybe it was only moonlight, playing on the greenery; maybe it was Slytherin explaining something to the Gryffindor, confessing his sins and being absolved. Maybe it was Gryffindor thanking the Slytherin and asking forgiveness for the lack of faith in him. Whichever it was, Draco hoped with all his might that his former Professor would finally find peace. He left them to say whatever they had to say to each other.
The swing moved slower and slower.