Author's Note: (Chapter Ten got out of hand...)

The room was empty when Harry woke up. He swung his feet to the floor and reached for his glasses, feeling a small headache reminiscent of the one he got when he drank too much wine. He wondered if it would be bad form to cancel his classes due to illness and then sighed and pushed himself to his feet.

In the cold light of morning his revelation to Malfoy didn't seem quite as earth-shattering. Really, all he had done was admit he found Malfoy attractive. It was actually absurd. Malfoy was probably off laughing with the other ghosts about Harry's foolishness.

He stared into the open door of his wardrobe, seeing nothing. His hand trailed over the sleeve of his robe and moved upward to trace the edge of the Hogwarts crest. He sometimes missed his Gryffindor badge, but the Hogwarts seal made him feel very official and grown up.

"Are you going to fondle that all day or put it on?" a familiar voice asked behind him.

Harry felt a rush that was anything but annoyance and he glanced over his shoulder as he pulled the robe from the wardrobe and shrugged into it.

"Good choice. You're better at fondling other things," Malfoy said and the leer was obvious in his voice.

Harry swung around and gladly grasped at the familiar comfort of irritation. "Look, Malfoy—"

Malfoy waved a hand at him airily. "Never mind, Potter. Don't be embarrassed because you lust after me. It's only natural. I am incredibly attractive, after all. Pity you never noticed while I was alive, but c'est la vie and all that. You aren't planning to go anywhere tonight, are you?"

Harry shook his head, trying to process Malfoy's words and keep up with his thought processes. "Tonight? What? No…"

"Good, because I was in the middle of a paragraph last night when you jaunted off to save Weasley. It's exasperating."

Harry couldn't quite repress a smile. "You only want me for my page-turning abilities, I see."

"Of course, Potter. I can't exactly use you for anything else, can I?"

Harry's smile vanished and he shook his head.

"By the way, your hair looks like a nest of vipers had a party in it."

Harry raised a hand to touch his unruly locks, then sneered absently at Malfoy and went to the bathroom where a comb, wand, and judicious application of water helped tame his hair into a semblance of professionalism. Malfoy had vanished again by the time Harry left the bathroom and went to the Great Hall for breakfast.

O….O

Considering the enormity of his revelation, Harry figured he had got off quite lightly where Malfoy was concerned. The ghost never taunted him with it beyond an occasional sardonic remark or suggestive leer, and he didn't seem to have spread it around the school or even admitted it to his fellow ghosts. Harry breathed a sigh of relief when he accepted it as their own little secret.

Their time together, however, gradually became more strained. Harry's eyes strayed to Malfoy frequently during their reading sessions and Malfoy watched him openly whenever possible, even though he had never again spied on Harry in the shower.

Harry tried to ignore it all. He taught his classes, met infrequently with Ron and Hermione, and read books with Malfoy. Ron graduated from Auror training and became a full Auror. Harry drank too much at Ron's celebratory party and Malfoy laughed at him mercilessly the next day, and then took him to the Potions Lab and taught him how to brew a proper Hangover Potion.

One night in October when a cold snap had overtaken most of Britain, Harry lay huddled beneath an extra layer of blankets with a book on his lap, only reaching a hand out occasionally to turn the pages of either his book or Malfoy's.

"Why do you keep reading those, Potter?" Malfoy asked. "Still trying to send me on to another plane of existence?"

Harry gnawed his lip before replying. "No, I just… Yes. If you must know, yes, I am trying to send you on."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "I thought you liked me."

Harry flushed at the understatement. "I do like you. Most of the time. It's just…" Harry struggled for words, wishing he were more eloquent. "Well, you deserve better than this half-life."

"What if there is nothing on the other side, Potter? Wouldn't a half-life be better than nothing at all?"

"You don't know that," Harry whispered, thinking of Sirius. He couldn't bear it if there were nothing beyond the veil. He had seen his parents return, if only for moments. If those visions had been nothing more than hallucinations, Harry did not want to know.

"You've been reading for a month. Have you learned anything yet?"

"I've learned that people who write Dark Arts books are mental. But I have to admit they've given me plenty of ideas for Defence Against Dark Arts. The Seventh-years were impressed when I taught them how to repel ghasts. Well, in theory, because obviously we had no actual ghasts."

"When you start bringing dangerous creatures into the school, Potter, I will start to worry about you."

Harry chuckled. "No, we already have Hagrid for that."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "I can't believe he thought a nundu cub would make a good pet."

"The more dangerous they are, the cuter he seems to find them. I would think you would admire that."

Malfoy shrugged. "He talks to me sometimes, despite everything. He never seems to bear a grudge. Odd quality in a man."

"Yeah," Harry said quietly, impressed that even though Malfoy's body had died at nineteen, his ability to mature had continued. Harry gnawed his lower lip and studied Malfoy.

"Out with it," Malfoy said. "Before you hurt yourself trying to think. I don't want you to rupture your synapses."

"Very funny. I was wondering… Isn't it odd that you can still think and feel and learn? I would have expected a ghost to be more frozen in time, like a shadow of who you once were, but…"

Malfoy bobbed his head in agreement. "It is strange. I feel almost like myself, except that the physical part has been removed." Malfoy grimaced. "The emotions are still here, though. It's almost as if everything that made me who I am is here, except the container. And even my shape is only a memory. I can change it if I try." Malfoy lifted a hand and stared at it. Slowly, it grew larger and puffier, turning into a meaty hand that would have been more in place on a burly soldier. Then it shrank and turned into long, elegant fingers again. "They say there was a ghost here once who simply gave up and dissipated. She no longer had the will to continue her… what did you call it? Half-life?" Malfoy paused and Harry nodded, fascinated despite the morbidity of the conversation. "I don't think she went on to that great realm beyond the veil that you are expecting. I think she just ceased to exist."

"You don't ever have the urge to do that, do you?" Harry asked.

"Only on the days you are being particularly annoying."

"Oi!" Harry protested and pulled a face. "I am never annoying."

Malfoy made a sardonic snort. "Page."

Harry pushed his hand from the warm blankets and turned the page of Malfoy's book. This time it was a pirate story that seemed to have little plot, but plenty of swordfighting and snogging. Harry had ordered it especially for the prat. "How are the lusty pirates this evening?"

"Not lusty enough. This author is obviously fascinated with ships. She spent an entire chapter describing the bloody boat. Get on with the fucking, I say."

Harry flushed and tried to concentrate on his own book, which was a dry tome by some demented scholar who had spent decades roaming fen and seeking out hinkypunks in some attempt to connect them to ghostly phenomenon. Harry thought it was all bollocks and would have abandoned the book for another if it weren't so bloody cold in the room. Removing his hand long enough to grab his wand and cast an Accio seemed not worth the effort.

"You're thinking again," Malfoy said dryly.

Harry removed his teeth from the lip he'd been worrying. "I was just, um…" He blushed, knowing he probably shouldn't bring it up, since it would only make his problem harder to deal with.

"Blushing, Potter? Now I am curious. Do tell."

"I can't believe I'm even asking this but… do you still get, um…?"

"Aroused?"

Harry nodded, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the page before him.

"Yes. As I said, I can still feel emotions, including that one. And since this… body, for lack of a better term, is something like a memory of my old form, it responds the same."

Harry's blush deepened. "That's um… interesting."

"Want me to show you?" Malfoy's voice was silken and Harry felt his insides twist into something that was far from unpleasant. His eyes snapped up to lock with Malfoy's.

"Can you?"

Malfoy's nose wrinkled. "Well, there are limits. If I remove an item of clothing completely, well what do you think happens to it?"

Harry was baffled. In truth, he had never considered it. He thought of the other ghosts and knew their clothing never changed – they seemed stuck in whatever outfit they had been wearing when they died. "I don't know, um…"

"I tried it once. I am heartily sick of this robe." Malfoy's hands moved to the buttons of the not-quite-student robe he wore. Harry watched, fascinated, as the long fingers pushed each small button through its hole. "I took the thing off and stomped it."

"What happened?"

"It reappeared as though I had never removed it. Like a curse. I suppose it's for the best, though. I imagine Myrtle is pretty tired of her school robes and would most likely spend all of her time naked in the Prefects' Bath if given the option." Malfoy laughed at Harry's mortified expression. "Yes, that would be my reaction, as well."

"That's… disturbing."

"Indeed," Malfoy said as the robe fell open to reveal Malfoy's pale shirt beneath. Harry wondered if it had been white in life, or some shade of grey or silver. He didn't bother to ask, possibly unable to speak at all as Malfoy's hands moved to the buttons of the shirt and began to unfasten those as well.

As more and more of Malfoy's torso became revealed, Harry's pulse began to race. "So as long as you don't…"

"As long as I don't completely remove the item, then, yes…" Malfoy's shirt opened to reveal two gorgeous nipples, a flat stomach, and a tantalizing trail of hair that looked almost white and had most likely been a beautiful blond colour in life. Harry itched to touch it and clenched a fist, knowing he would feel nothing but icy air. Malfoy's nipples were taut and his breathing seemed to echo Harry's—odd that ghosts could breathe, but Harry supposed that was nothing more than a memory as well. "More?" Malfoy asked.

Harry swallowed and nodded. It was madness to continue. Harry knew it and for a moment Hermione's disapproving face appeared in his mind, but it vanished when Malfoy's hands reached for his ornate belt buckle and tugged it open. The four flat buttons that held his trousers closed were next and Harry thought his heart might stop completely when Malfoy shoved them down to his thighs, exposing pants that were a slightly lighter hue than the trousers. A distinct bulge marked the centre and Harry's attention was riveted.

"This is the oddest thing I've ever done," Malfoy said with a breathless chuckle.

Harry dragged his eyes upward and lifted a brow in a mimicry of Malfoy's usual stare. "It's only fair, though. You've seen me unclothed plenty of times."

"I remember," Malfoy whispered and Harry's palms went dry at his expression, full of warm humour and something that made his half-hard cock fill completely.

Malfoy's fingers teased at the waistband of his pants and Harry threw back the blankets suddenly, ignoring the burst of cold air. He was warm enough now, anyway. The boring book thumped to the floor. "Wait," Harry said and quickly pushed down his pyjama bottoms to match Malfoy's.

Malfoy's smile was brilliant. "On three?" he asked.

Harry nodded. "One…"

"Two," Malfoy said.

"Three," they said together and Harry shoved his pants down, gaze fixed on Malfoy's crotch to see his hard cock spring forth. It was more perfect than Harry had imagined, straight and slender, with the tip peeping forth from the taut foreskin, begging to be suckled.

"Fuck," Harry murmured. "I want to…" He wanted to taste it, touch it, and feel it against him.

"I know," Malfoy said and wrapped a hand around himself.

Harry glanced up to find Malfoy watching him with much the same rapt attention. He followed suit, taking himself in hand and pretending it was Malfoy's hand rather than his own. "This is completely mental," Harry whispered and began to stroke.

"You've always been mental, Potter."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, not caring as he watched Draco's fist move up and down along his length, stroking faster and faster in a practiced rhythm that Harry copied. He knew it wouldn't take long. He had only wanked twice since Malfoy had caught him in the shower—both times in the privacy of Grimmauld Place. It had been a long time and he was far too turned on watching Malfoy… He wrenched at the hem of his shirt and dragged it upward to avoid splattering it. "So close…"

"Fuck, Potter." Malfoy's voice, husky and thick with desire, drove Harry over the edge. He arched and came, closing his eyes for only a moment before snapping them open to continue watching Malfoy. Three more strokes and Malfoy gasped and shivered. Pale spurts shot from the tip and gleamed against his abdomen, shining like silver jewels. Harry swallowed hard at the urge to lick them, an urge that was near agonizing with the awareness that he couldn't.

"Gorgeous. You're gorgeous," he murmured.

Malfoy's face curved into a languid smile and he sprawled on the bed and trailed his fingers through the silvery not-liquid. "You, too, but don't let it go to your head."

Harry grinned. "That was um… interesting."

"Better than the magazines you're hiding in that corner of your wardrobe?"

Harry's glance shifted guiltily toward the wardrobe and away. "Yeah, much better." He fumbled for his wand and spelled away the remains of his release, then watched as Malfoy's vanished.

"I can just think mine away," he explained. He pulled up his pants and trousers and set about restoring his clothing while Harry did the same and dragged the blankets back up to his chin.

"Thanks," Harry said simply.

Malfoy nodded and Harry closed his eyes with a satisfied sigh, killed the light with a thought, and drifted off to sleep.

O….O

Harry had a difficult time concentrating in class the next day and scrapped his planned lesson in favour of having the students work on already-learned spells plus a short essay on hinkypunks.

He watched them cast spells and made occasional suggestions while his mind tracked over and over his encounter with Malfoy. He supposed it was perverted, having sex with a ghost, even though it wasn't quite the truth. He'd only been wanking and watching a ghost do the same… He sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair, knowing the image of shimmering, silvery, mostly-naked Malfoy would never completely leave his mind.

"Are you all right, Professor Potter?" Marianne Johnson's expression seemed worried.

Harry smiled. "I'm fine, Marianne. Just a bit tired. How is Quidditch?"

She beamed and chattered away about the upcoming Gryffindor/Hufflepuff game. Harry thought she looked very much like her cousin Angelina and she was just as adept at Quidditch, albeit she was a Beater rather than a Chaser. She was just as competent and serious, as well, and cast a corporeal Patronus mid-sentence. She gave Harry a smirk and added, "…and that is my happy thought. Kicking Hufflepuff arse!" She coughed. "I mean bum. Sorry, Professor."

Her gazelle galloped around the room and Harry shook his head, absently thinking that nebulous, silvery things had always played a prominent part in his life.

Later, he was glad he had agreed to help Neville transplant some winter seedlings from the greenhouse to the outdoor garden. The cold air was bracing and helped to clear his head, and transporting the seedlings took concentration—they sprayed a deadly gas if they were jostled, making them much too dangerous for students to move.

Harry was nearly finished when he spotted a nearly-intangible figure near the garden gate. The pot he Levitated shook for a moment and Neville gasped, but Harry frowned and focussed; the pot steadied. He lowered it carefully into the hole Neville had prepared and watched while his friend scooped the dirt around it with a gardening Charm.

"Is that Malfoy?" Neville asked without looking in that direction.

"Yeah," Harry said and tucked his wand into a pocket.

"He's not bothering you, is he?" Neville's voice sounded severe and Harry remembered how he had looked slicing Voldemort's snake in two. Neville had definitely changed since their younger days.

Harry smiled and shook his head. "No. He was at first, but we get on all right now. Bye, Nev."

"Good to know. Bye, Harry, and thanks."

Harry walked to the gate and took in the sight of Malfoy, who looked even more unreal in the brighter light of outdoors.

"Finished playing in the dirt?" Malfoy asked. His tone was teasing.

Harry smiled at him and nodded. "I suppose. I seem to have acquired some residue." He held up his hands to show off sticky purple streaks left when he had stumbled into a patch of Shrieking Violets after slipping on a wet leaf. He was lucky it had happened before they had begun moving the dangerous foliage.

"Looks like you could use a bath."

Harry started towards the castle with Malfoy walk-gliding beside him. Harry glanced at him sideways. "A bath? I do have access to the Staff Bath Chamber now. I'd forgotten."

"Have you seen it?" Malfoy asked.

Harry shook his head.

"You are in for a treat. And you'll be safer there than your own shower."

"Why?" Harry asked.

Malfoy chuckled. "Myrtle never goes in there."

Harry quickened his steps.

O….O

Malfoy had been right in his assessment. It was a treat. The room was twice the size of the Prefects' Bath and had six separate pools of assorted temperatures. A gigantic fountain in the centre spouted water into each pool and bobbing underwater lights gave the entire place a peaceful, dim glow that was instantly relaxing. Even though it was still daytime outside, here the windows were spelled to resemble a night sky resplendent with stars.

"Wow," Harry said, striding forward.

"I told you," Malfoy said smugly. "And no one ever comes here."

"Why not?" Harry unbuttoned his robe and hung it on a Self-Cleaning rack that would steam and press his clothing while he bathed. He made a mental note to order one for his quarters and possibly send one to Hermione for Christmas.

"All of the teachers' quarters have their own baths and showers these days. There is not much need for a centralized bathing facility, and no one likes to walk through the castle dripping wet or clad only in a towel or dressing gown."

Harry nodded. He remembered Minerva telling him about the bath, but he had never thought to use it, since he had his own shower.

He bent down and touched the water inside the nearest pool before jerking his hand back with a hiss. "Damn! That's hot!"

Malfoy snickered. "Pansy."

Harry threw him a look and moved on to the next one, which was still too hot. The fourth pool seemed just right, so Harry removed the rest of his clothing, pausing with his thumbs in the waistband of his pants. He bit his lip.

"I've seen you naked before, Potter," Malfoy commented.

Harry flushed, remembering, and then let them fall. He dared a glance at Malfoy, who was watching him with a half-smile as he waited by the side of the pool. Feeling only partially self-conscious, Harry stepped down into the water, hissing at the heat at first, but persevering until he stood waist-deep. He waded across the pool and sprawled on one of the underwater benches nearest the fountain. When he sat, the water reached just below his chin and a cushion appeared from the side of the pool, allowing him to rest his head in comfort.

"This is blissful," he said as he took off his glasses and set them on the edge. When he looked back, Malfoy was gone. A moment later, a silvery head rose from the water next to Harry.

"Feel better?" Malfoy asked, so close that Harry could have lifted his head and kissed him, had Malfoy been alive.

"Much better," Harry admitted.

Malfoy nodded and looked wistful for only a moment. Even though he should have been wet, his hair looked the same as always, hanging over his forehead and making Harry want to brush it aside. Harry frowned.

"How does Myrtle make things move? The bathroom she haunts is always wet with water gushing out everywhere."

Malfoy moved to join Harry on the bench. Part of him brushed against Harry's elbow, creating an icy chill on his skin, but he didn't move away. "She can't. It's the castle. She's been morbidly haunting those pipes so long that they respond to her agitation by spewing out water whenever she has a tantrum."

Harry closed his eyes with a sigh. "That makes sense." He thought it must be a particular brand of hell, existing on a level where you can feel everything, but touch nothing. He rolled his head to the side and opened his eyes to look at Malfoy, trying not to let his pitying thoughts show. "Can ghosts fall in love with other ghosts?"

Malfoy snorted. His gaze was fixed on the centre of the pool where the water splashed down from above in a steady stream. "Yes. There is a pair that spends most of their time in the Hufflepuff common room, snogging. The girl threw herself from the Astronomy Tower in a fit of unrequited love back in the 20s and the boy died in a potion-making accident in 1939. I remember reading about it when I was a student. They met as ghosts and fell desperately in love." Malfoy wrinkled his nose. "The rest of us hate them a little, especially the Bloody Baron. That's why they don't leave the Hufflepuff dungeon very often."

"They can touch each other, then?"

Malfoy nodded and shifted his attention back to Harry. "Yes, ghosts can touch other ghosts. It doesn't feel quite like it did in reality, but it's close enough. There are a few ghostly relationships here that the living don't know about."

Harry nearly wrinkled his nose at the thought of ghost sex, but then he realized that was a very hypocritical thought, considering.

Malfoy smiled. "Thinking about drowning yourself so you can join me?"

Harry snorted a laugh and Malfoy's answering smile proved that he was thankfully not offended. "No. I like you, but I'm not really the type to off myself."

"Plus you have hoards of friends and family on the other side happily waiting for you."

Harry's grin faded.

"Sorry," Malfoy said, surprising him. "That was unintentionally depressing."

"This whole ghost thing is a bit depressing, isn't it?"

"It's not all bad… anymore," Malfoy said and then sank beneath the water. A moment later, Harry felt coldness against his knees and he instinctively opened them to avoid the chill. He looked down into the water and saw Malfoy between his legs, looking up at him with an intense stare. Harry's cock reacted, even though he knew Malfoy could never give him a blow job, the idea of it alone was extremely erotic. And Malfoy got off on watching him.

Harry reached down and gripped his hardening prick, nudging it outward until it pointed at Malfoy in invitation. The water was hot enough that he was beginning to sweat and the icy coldness of Malfoy's mouth surrounding his cock felt incredibly good.

Harry closed his eyes and fisted himself. Each downward stroke was accompanied by a rush of cold and the knowledge that Malfoy was watching him, almost tasting him, giving him as close to fellatio as he could. Ghostly fingers touched Harry's testicles and grazed his arsehole and then Harry was coming hard in the water. He imagined Malfoy taking it all, swallowing it, and looking up at him with that amazing, intense stare… Harry opened his eyes and the gaze was there, piercing and hot as Malfoy pulled at himself and came in a ghostly stream that quickly dissipated into nothingness.

Malfoy rose and his head broke the surface of the water. He leaned forward and tilted his head. Coldness enveloped Harry's lips and he closed his eyes, drinking in the not-quite kiss, and then Malfoy pulled away and returned to his perch next to Harry. A smile played about his lips and Harry returned it, bemused.

"Still not ready to drown yourself?" Malfoy asked.

Harry chuckled and shook his head. "Good effort, though."

Malfoy crossed his arms behind his head and shut his eyes as if drinking in the warmth. "I have my talents."

O….O

"What's with you? Something's different." Ron cocked his head to look at Harry.

Harry could not meet his eyes and he was suddenly very glad that Hermione had gone to check on the chicken she was baking. Harry thought he might be able to stave off Ron's questions, but Ron and Hermione together would have him spilling his secrets in no time.

And the best defence against Ron was a good offense.

"Me? You're the one who looks like you've gone a round with a dementor. I thought training was supposed to be the hard part. They working you to death?"

Ron flushed and glanced towards the kitchen, obviously just as glad that Hermione was out of earshot. Then he glared at Harry. "Stop that! You know how she's been since the St Mungo's thing."

Harry shrugged and felt only a hint of guilt at having diverted Ron's attention. It had been over a week since the incident with Malfoy in the Staff Bathroom and the memory of it still made Harry's heart quicken. Additionally, they had taken to mutual wanking whenever possible. Eleven times in the past eight days, Harry added helpfully to himself. Not that he was counting, or anything.

It was getting so Harry could hardly eat his evening meal fast enough to get to his quarters and greet the half-naked ghost, who seemed to spend most of his time lounging on Harry's bed in a state of arousal. Harry dragged his thoughts away from Malfoy's cold fingers and cold mouth and focussed on Ron before his mental state caused a visible physical reaction.

And, in truth, Ron did look terrible. "Have you been eating?" Harry asked.

"I've been eating loads!" Ron snapped. "Ask Hermione!"

"What's that, Ron?" Hermione called.

"Need any help?" Ron replied loudly.

"No, just making the sauce! But thank you!"

Ron grinned lazily and then smirked at Harry, who rolled his eyes. He studied Ron once more, noting how thin he'd grown. Harry hadn't noticed at first, since the thick jumper Ron wore concealed quite a lot, but his wrist bones were showing and the hollows in his face seemed deeper and more pronounced.

"Have you been back to the hospital?" Harry asked in a low tone. "Weren't they running tests?"

"Yes, I've been back. They say it was some sort of virus contributing to my exhaustion and things. Takes time to get back in shape, is all. Doesn't help I'm chasing perpetrators all over the countryside half the time. Why do they always run?"

Harry had to smile. "I guess all that running in training had merit, then?"

Ron threw a couch pillow at him.

O….O

"I hate tying ties," Harry said, peering into the mirror while he looped one end of the fabric over the other and pulled it beneath. It was Gryffindor red, but printed with tiny golden Snitches instead of the usual gold stripes. As a professor, wearing blatant House colours was frowned upon unless they were Head of House, but all of the professors made certain their loyalties were spoken for.

"That is because you are doing it wrong," Malfoy said casually from his usual sprawl on the bed. He was reading, an activity he could do quite well on his own now that Harry had set up a Page-Turning Charm for him. They only used the spell when Harry planned to be gone. When he was in the room, Malfoy preferred to have Harry do it for him. Harry did not ask why, nor did he bother to mention that he preferred it, also. He supposed it felt nice to be needed.

"What do you mean? I've been doing this since I was eleven years old!"

"Exactly. You've been using the same bloody knot for years. You don't always need a Full Windsor, you know. That tie is far more suited to the Liam Knot."

"The what?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes, but left the bed to stand behind Harry, looking over his shoulder to meet his eyes in the wardrobe mirror. "The Liam Knot. Now, flip your tie over so the reverse side faces outwards."

Harry frowned, but did as Malfoy asked, and then followed his spoken commands through the steps to tie the knot, which was far easier than the Windsor, and looked just as good. Malfoy, of course, frowned at him.

"Very sloppy. You need to keep the knot tighter as you tie it and keep your fingers straight to create a sort of shelf to pull the tie across."

Several times Malfoy had reached over to guide Harry's hands through the motions only to snatch them back, apparently realizing that he could not properly show him using his hands. The thought made Harry slightly depressed.

He shook it off and looked into the mirror in satisfaction. "Brilliant. Thank you. The tie is perfect."

"Where are you going, again?" Malfoy asked. His presence was cold against Harry's back.

"Board meeting. The incident with Sebastian Savoy prompted a review of our curriculum. It doesn't really affect me, but Minerva asked me to come along. I think she wants my "Boy Who Lived" influence rather than anything I might contribute, but whatever." He expected Malfoy to comment on the nickname, but Malfoy's next words surprised him.

"No hot date?"

Harry turned to look at him, but Malfoy made a show of studying Harry's tie. Not for the first time, Harry wished he could touch him, if only to coax him into meeting Harry's eyes. He tried to smile through a strange lump in his throat. Surely Malfoy wasn't jealous?

"You know you're the only boy for me," he said, trying to make a joke. It backfired.

"That's not funny, Potter," Malfoy said and turned to drift across the room to his place by the window. Harry frowned at the movement. Malfoy only acted ghostlike when he was agitated. The rest of the time he tried to act as alive as possible, mimicking the behaviour of the living.

"Draco, it's a stupid, boring meeting. I'll be back in two hours, tops."

The ghost stiffened and Harry realized it was the first time he had used Malfoy's given name. After a moment a pale hand waved out, although Malfoy did not bother to turn around. "What makes you think I care, Potter? Run along and enjoy yourself. It makes no difference to me."

Harry bit his tongue, annoyed, but determined not to get into a pointless argument. He refused to be late when Minerva was counting on him. "Of course it doesn't matter to you," he muttered as he stalked to the door and went out. "That's why you spend all your time in my quarters."

As he headed for the stairs, he was glad he hadn't let the words slip in Malfoy's hearing, lest the ghost decide to punish Harry by going elsewhere. Funny how a month ago he would have given anything for Malfoy to leave him alone and now he couldn't bear the idea. He supposed it was because of the regular sex, even though it wasn't much more than masturbation, except hearing Malfoy's sibilant voice whispering at him to "touch yourself, yes, like that, now slower" or feeling an erotic brush of cold over his—

Harry stopped walking and took a deep breath to steady himself. Board meeting, he thought. Very important school business thing. Must not think about Draco Malfoy.

"Are you okay, Professor Potter?" a passing Gryffindor girl asked him.

He smiled absently at her. "Yes, thank you." The question propelled him forward and he walked with renewed determination. Surely he could stop thinking about Malfoy for two short hours.

O….O

He couldn't. Barely twenty minutes in, Harry was bored witless and had taken to sliding his fingernails along the edge of the chair cushion in a staccato rhythm while wordlessly concocting song lyrics to go along with the tune.

Governor Warner looks like walrus, he thought to himself in a singsong chant. His whiskers resemble the tail of a broomstick. Harry frowned, unable to think of a decent rhyme for either "walrus" or "broomstick". Room-thick? Doom-sick?

"You disagree, Professor Potter?"

Harry looked up at his name to find Warner watching him with a flat stare. His narrowed eyes only made his puffy cheeks look wider and when his lips pursed it made his bushy moustache twitch like… well, like walrus whiskers. Harry bit the inside of his cheek to keep the grin from bursting forth. He could hardly wait to describe the man to Draco.

"I wouldn't necessarily say that I disagree, Governor," Harry said diplomatically and glanced at Minerva, who was no help at all with her face set into planes that any professional gambler would hate. "If you could repeat your key points?"

Harry thought he heard an audible groan and Governor Warner nodded and gave him a look that suggested he planned to run through it even slower, in order that Harry might keep up. Harry grinned widely. His nails skated over the fabric. Plume-prick. He turned it over in his mind and tried to incorporate the words into his song as Warner droned on.