Chapter 2

Sitting on the windowsill, he watched her sleep in silence. Granger. Hermione bloody Granger. The mudblood with an attitude. The third wheel to Weasel and Pothead's annoying couple. And worse yet, she could easily best him in magic and had more than once before.

But none of that mattered now. Because he was dead.

He was, very literally, a ghost now. And it was all her fault. She couldn't just let him go like everyone else. Oh everyone else had given up on him years ago, but Granger? Granger insisted he was good until the end. And that was why he had gone to her instead of the Wonder Twins, which had gone sooo much better. A wand through his fucking heart.

Draco was pretty sure he was the first wizard to die that way, and he had to give Weasley props for creativity.

Only now, as Hermione laid there sleeping, he realized one thing-there was no end for him. He stayed because part of her still believed in him, and the oldest of magics had always relied on faith hadn't they?

He hopped off of the windowsill and walked over, kneeling beside the bed to be more at her level. Reaching up as if he were going to touch her shoulder, he hesitated and simply whispered, "Let me go."

She awoke slowly as if coming out of a daze more than sleep, and she didn't seem at all surprised to see him there. Hermione hardly moved aside from shifting her eyes towards where he knelt. Was she imagining it, or was she able to see through him now more than she had a few nights ago? Was Draco Malfoy fading?

And if he was, was it her place to try and stop it?

"You were haunting my dreams again," she informed him quietly.

Draco recognized the fear in her tone immediately only because it was such a strange thing to hear from her of all people. "Weasel doesn't share a room with you?" he asked, standing up and glancing around the room, ignoring her troubled look that was followed by a glare. She clearly didn't want to explain.

Granger-and all the other do-gooders-had camped out on the smoldering remains of the school weeks back. Magic allowed their tents to hold actual buildings rather than just cloth rooms, but Hermione had insisted on a more traditional set up for hers. Her tent appeared as a simply cabin on the inside, and it stood not far from where the school's back entrance had once been.

It was tragic really that a building so beautifully designed as Hogwart's had been torn apart during the fighting, but these things did happen. He was almost sure Malfoy Manor was in a similar state where it had once stood tall and proud and dark, towering above the rest of the neighborhood in a menacing warning that said 'Beware, all ye who enter here.'

Draco stared at Hermione now in silence, considering his words carefully before going right back to the core of the conversation in a tone that was just as fearful as her own, "You haunted mine for years." So this was what? Payback? Revenge for the filthy mudblood who clawed her way into his thoughts, and it hadn't even been attraction-gods no, he would never be attracted to the bitch in front of him-more just curious, because she was the one student at Hogwart's aside from Potter that he couldn't truly hurt. Ron cried at just about anything it seemed, Potter had the stiff upper lip outlook, but Hermione? Even if she cried from his words the sadness never quite reached her eyes.

There wasn't room for it there, what with all the useless knowledge she kept in that brain of hers. No room for despair, only learning. And she had intrigued him because she was the one thing he couldn't destroy. They were both the best of their class, complete opposites in every way other than their shared intellect. The biggest difference between them was that Draco kept his fucking mouth shut while Granger always insisted on raising her hand to answer questions, made sure that everyone knew that she knew the answers.

No, Draco had been content to sit in the shadows and watch her take the credit for the bookwork. He'd had more important things on his mind than getting good marks anyhow, and if the class paid attention to her it allowed him the freedom of mocking Potter without most teachers noticing.

But that was all over now. The school was destroyed, and they'd long ago stopped being students.

"You don't want me to go," Draco concluded, staring at Hermione through cold, blue eyes that gave nothing away. Nor did his tone-which was indifferent again, in that casual, cool Malfoy way that made it appear as if he never feared anything.

"What do you mean?" she asked him, and it was odd for him how openly she was admitting to him now that she did not understand. Granger who had all the answers suddenly asking him for one.

"You're what's keeping me here," he reminded her. "That soddin' magic of yours that never…" Draco sighed, moving over to lean one arm on her headboard. Unlike her, he was able to touch the headboard, able to rest there for a moment. "I always knew you were good, Granger, I just never thought you capable of wandless magic of this caliber," he finally admitted. It was a compliment coming from him, despite the bitterness to his tone.

It was the nicest thing he'd ever said to her.

Hermione sat up, brushing some hair away from her eyes as she pulled her quilt up around her to keep out the cold. Looking at Draco she realized the source of the coldness was him. It was something she'd seen on a tv show once-that ghosts could make a room freeze instantly when it had been warm moments before-but she'd never believed it. The ghosts of the school hardly ever changed their surroundings.

But Malfoy seemed to have a profound effect on his surroundings whether he realized it or not. She took notice of the slight burn left on the wood of her headboard when he pulled his arm away and moved back towards the window.

"It isn't your fault, you know," he commented, glancing at the stars outside. "You couldn't have stopped him if you'd tried."

She wasn't sure what to say to that. He'd just touched on her biggest source of guilt presently. She had plenty of reasons to feel guilty as of late, but not stepping in until it was too late to save him after Draco had surrendered? It was currently at the top of the list.

"You and I both know if anyone was capable of stopping Ron it was me," Hermione argued quietly.

"Alright," Draco agreed, turning to face her again. "Alright, let's go down that road then. And what comes next? Oh right, I ask you why. Why did you let him?"

"I didn't think he would really do it," she admitted. "He and Harry, they're strong and capable but they're not killers. They're not like…" Her voice trailed off as she looked at him.

"Me?" Draco finished darkly for her. "It's okay, Granger, you can say it. I was a bloody Death Eater after all, it's no secret."

"You didn't want that," she insisted.

"You've always been so sure of that, haven't you?" he asked her, his tone biting and harsh, accusing her of assuming the worst of him.

"Hermione, who are you talkin' too?" They both turned their heads to glance at the doorway where a very tired, but worried, Ginny stood. She hugged her robe around her tighter at the cool air of the room but hardly seemed to notice Draco, her curious gaze stuck on Hermione.

And Hermione realized then that this must be because she couldn't see Draco. There was no other reason for Ginny to ignore the dead Malfoy's presence.

"I must have been talking in my sleep, Gin," she lied with a nervous smile. "Sorry about that. Tell Harry I'm sorry too if I've woken him?"

"Was Ron who sent me in actually," Ginny replied. "You sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, Granger," Malfoy taunted. "You sure you're alright? Not like you're the dead one. Your biggest worries right now are the fact that Weasel has decided to keep his pants zipped up."

Hermione glared at Draco, then looked at Ginny. "I'm fine," she assured the other girl. "Get some sleep." Ginny sighed, but nodded and turned to leave. "How come she couldn't see you?" Hermione asked-speaking quietly now-before glancing at him again.

"You tell me," he snapped. "This is your doing."

"You keep saying that, but it doesn't make any sense," Hermione insisted. "I'll look into it tomorrow," she added, yawning and laying back on her bed. "Don't you have somewhere you can go?"

"You don't seem to understand," Draco replied, "you're it. I can't be anywhere else. I'm fucking bound to you. So fix whatever you did and let me get on my way already."

"In the morning," she insisted, already half asleep.

Draco opened his mouth to insist some more, but as he looked at her lying there, he was reminded of how troubling sleep was to find these days. And unlike her slumber when he'd arrived, she looked somewhat peaceful now.

"Suppose I'll just wait here then," he muttered, realizing she wouldn't hear him but attempting to sound bitter nonetheless. Making his way across the room, Draco slumped down to take a seat, back against the wall.

He closed his own eyes, but death would not allow him sleep. He really was stuck here for however long Granger decided he needed to stay. Fuck.

And this time, as Hermione drifted off into sleep, she dreamed of something else entirely, but Draco was still there, still present in her nightmare.