A/N: Angsty. With a MAJOR cliffie that is probably the best I have ever written. A few tears. And a very long title. I wasn't going to update yet, but so many people were reviewing and saying was it finished and that they hated me for killing Ginny, so I thought I'd better get this chapter out quick.
Disclaimer: I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-
The Stone Speaks
Chapter Fifty-Six: Impossible Uncomprehendable Unbreakable
DRACO
"Listen, Corteza. The only way I would ever willingly go out with you," said Draco, his voice so soft that it was barely audible, and stony hard, "is if you find a miracle way to bring her back. And I doubt it."
Draco stayed rooted the spot just long enough to see tears well up in her large silver eyes, before stalking past and continuing down the corridor.
…
It hurt. Terribly. Holding a hand to his stomach to fend off the feeling as though he was going to be sick everywhere, Draco sped up until he was racing down the corridor, faster and faster and faster and faster…
He wheeled around the corner – get to the Quiet Room, get to the Quiet Room – but it was too far, and, looking briefly at the door to it, some way away down the passageway, he grabbed at the wall for support, and then keeled over and vomited spectacularly on the floor.
When his stomach felt empty, Draco waved his wand weakly ("Scourigify," he muttered), and staggered down to the door. He reached it, but for some reason couldn't find the strength to open it. He couldn't even find the strength to take hold of the door handle.
Instead, he let out a hollow moan and slumped against, sliding down and hunching up in front of it, sitting and generally feeling sorry for himself.
I have to talk to someone. Or I'm going to die.
Luna? Draco couldn't face her.
Myrtle? Draco sighed. It was better than Luna.
He sat for a few seconds, allowing time to let his muscles gather some energy, and then hauled himself to his feet, before trudging out of a sidedoor. Draco saw a flare of Hogwarts-uniform skirt, shorter than standard, and a whoosh of chestnut hair; heard a sob as the skirt-and-hair headed towards the library; but he continued regardless. He could be guilty about his shouting later.
Why should I be guilty? She's a tactless, insensitive slag. I don't give a damn. And what I said was one-hundred percent true.
Draco would have held his head high in his decision, but he was so used now to skulking everywhere in the background that this high-head-holding instinct disappeared without any hesitation. He instead hurried faster to the second-floor girls' bathroom.
When he arrived, he felt strangely as though he might be trespassing, and so (first checking that no-one was around to tell him off, or laugh at him, or send him off to St. Mungoe's for knocking on an abandoned bathroom door) he rapped his knuckles lightly on the worn wood.
No-one responded, but there was a faint wail from inside.
Summon courage? None left. He stepped through ."Myrtle?" he asked quietly. Pause. "I knocked."
Why'd you say that? You shouldn't have to knock anyway.
There was a moment's wait before a small head sticks out. Despite the fact that Myrtle's appearance can't change due to her death, she had changed. Her deep, round glasses were lopsided, and one lens has a thin crack. Her pale skin is smeared with tears, and her thick, dark hair is coming loose of its neat ponytails.
"Oh," said Myrtle, "hello. Have you finally decided to come and let me know?"
Now Draco felt guilty. He didn't say sorry, however.
"I thought you'd have rushed up here immediately and told me that you conquered the Dark Lord, but no, that's not how you work, apparently," Myrtle sneered. "Neither's Ginny." She frowned.
"I used her life!" screamed Draco.
Myrtle's dark eyes widened. "Wait – what?"
Feeling his heart crack again, he collapsed onto his backside and hid his face in his hands. "Oh, God, you don't even know, do you?" he moaned. Feeling tears threaten to leak out from under his eyelids, Draco squeezed his eyes closed.
A hand grabbed his shoulder, very tightly. "You used whose life?" Myrtle demanded.
Draco removed his hands from his face. He kept his eyes closed until he let out a sigh, and then he opened them, saying, "She's dead. Because… partly because of me. She could have come back. She could have stayed alive. But her life was the only thing that I could use to destroy Lord Voldemort. So I did."
"She… Draco, who's 'she'?" Myrtle's voice was terrified now.
He didn't answer.
"Oh my God. Not… not Ginny?" Myrtle shrieked.
Silence.
"You… you killed Ginny." Her voice was flat, disbelieving, and absolutely horrified.
"What, do you think it was easy for me?" yelled Draco. "Do you think it was easy? She's my best friend – for Christ's sake, I love her. More than anything. And I had to make a decision in three seconds. Less than that, probably. I had to choose. Ginny… or the entire world. I couldn't have both."
Now the tears came.
"Myrtle, you don't know what that's like," Draco whispered.
Still the fifteen-year-old ghost did not respond.
"Say something," Draco begged. "I can't lose both of you. Please, don't hate me – say something!"
She took a deep breath. "Ginny promised me – she swore – she vowed – that we'd be together forever," Myrtle said softly. "She said that when she died, she'd become a ghost, so that we could always be friends."
…what? Draco didn't understand. His face was blank. "What's that got to do with anything? That doesn't really matter, does it?" he said flatly.
Myrtle finally looked up. Her eyes were as wide as saucers. Then, very slowly, she explained. "Draco. She vowed. The Unbreakable Vow."
I still don't understand! "What does this have to do with any of this?" Draco cried. "This isn't helping!"
Am I that thick? What is it?
Deep breath. Another deep breath. "The Unbreakable Vow, Draco… is unbreakable. Ginny couldn't break it. It's physically impossible to break. She has to become a ghost when she dies. She can't pass on."
Slowly, so slowly that it was agonizing, Draco started to comprehend what Myrtle was getting at.
"Oh my God."
"Ginny's not a ghost," said Myrtle.
Lifeless dark-brown eyes and steel-grey eyes collided together across the girls' bathroom as they both understood what was going on.
"She isn't dead."
A/N: OMG! CLIFFIE ALERT! That, I reckon, is my best cliffie yet. I don't actually check these before posting them (apart from VERY rarely) so if someone wanted to beta me, I'd be eternally grateful.
And YOU thought she was gone!
