Hermione scrambled to the back of her cot, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
She felt a strange urge to reach out and poke at his body or his face; to see if he was as real as he looked. But she didn't. She could barely move except to cringe away from him, that feeling of icy fear gripping her again.
Then, somehow she managed to breath out:
"M- Malfoy, what? What's going on?"
She watched as his face softened in relief, and his eyes fluttered shut at her words, a small smile playing on his lips.
"Merlin I'd forgot what that's like."
Then he shook his head and let out a low laugh, before looking up to meet her gaze.
"So you can really see me then?"
Hermione was still shaking, despite his strange sense of calm.
She nodded her head slowly, and whispered:
"Yes."
The grin reappeared on his face, tugging at the corners of his stained lips. Then, suddenly, he was looming directly over her, gripping the edges of her cot with both hands, and searching her eyes inquisitively.
She sucked in a harsh gasp and sunk further into the depths of the little bed.
"Incredible. I- I can't believe it. I thought for sure I was imagining it when I saw you through your window, but you were looking at me, weren't you?"
He had become, excited, almost frantic even, but Hermione couldn't focus on his words. Her mind was running a mile a minute, trying to understand what was happening to her. Was she hallucinating again? Was he really there?
She tried to steady her labored breaths.
"Are you real?" She said, her voice so low that even she barely heard it.
His grin stretched even wider, tilting into a charming slant, though he was still appraising every inch of her face with darting eyes, nearly close enough to touch her.
"Oh yes Granger, I'm real. You're not going mad."
Then he let go of the cot, and drifted away from her, reclining with both hands intertwined at the back of his head, as if he were lounging on a couch, rather than floating mid- air.
"I did warn you though, didn't I? No one else ever sees me, I knew they'd think you'd gone nuts. And now look at you, all locked up in the hospital ward." He let out a teasing tut at this last part.
She got a good look at him now; he was wearing a simple black pullover and a pair of dark grey cargo trousers. It was a very odd outfit, at least in terms of what he usually wore, and she wondered briefly if they were the clothes he had died in.
All in all it was very surreal, and still slightly terrifying, to see the same boy she had been mourning over, nonchalantly appear and speak to her as if he hadn't been dead for several months.
And yet, despite this, she could already sense that her terror was steadily waning, and growing in its place was a ferocious curiosity.
When she finally registered what he had said, her eyes turned to slits, and she was swayed by a familiar sense of annoyance.
She shifted up in her cot and folded her arms.
"Well what did you expect? You're dead, and you were standing in my room."
At this his hands dropped, and he gracefully lowered himself to a standing position beside her, this time on the ground.
"Right. I want to apologize for that. I- I shouldn't have startled you. I just, needed to be sure."
Hermione raised her eyebrows in disbelief.
"Well that settles it then. You're definitely a hallucination."
His face crumpled in confusion at her words.
"I- what?"
She shook her head at him. "The real Draco Malfoy would never apologize, especially not to me."
He rolled his eyes and scoffed in offense.
"Gee thanks. Perhaps you haven't considered this Granger, but being dead does help you let go of some reservations."
Then he looked her up and down, thinking something over.
"Besides, being that you're now my only connection to the living world, at least that I'm aware of, you can expect certain- privileges."
She let out a humorless laugh. "Privileges? You think its a privilege to be haunted by you? If that's even what's happening, I mean, there's still no proof that you're actually here."
She could see the frustration growing on his gaunt face.
"Well why wouldn't I be?"
She parted her lips, trying to find something to say. Even if he was a hallucination, she didn't want to explain to him that it would actually make sense for this to all be in her head, considering how much she had thought of him over the past month or so.
Instead she responded:
"You don't think it's odd that I'm the only person who can see you?"
His face took on a slightly more serious expression.
"No Granger, I think it's very odd. Believe me, I'm as surprised as you are."
"I doubt that." She said, huffing a little laugh.
He continued, disregarding her statement.
"But if you really want the answer to that, then I guess you'll just have to talk to me. So you can, piece together the mystery if you will."
He wiggled his eyebrows at her, and she fought the urge to laugh. Since when had Malfoy ever been this playful with her? He definitely couldn't be real.
Even so, her curiosity let her play along.
"Mystery?"
He nodded.
"That's right. The mystery of how I died. And why the fuck I'm here, stuck like this."
Then he gestured to his body, half ghost, half human in its tangible form.
"I already know how you died." She quickly said, after glancing down his lean frame with a bit of a blush.
His brows shot up: "Really? And how's that?"
She let out a low breath, thinking this might be a significant blow for him. Then she let the words slowly fall out, avoiding his gaze.
"Well, everyone says that you- you killed yourself."
His reaction was not what she had expected; instead of getting upset, he simply laughed.
She watched in surprise as that tilted smile took over his face, and his eyes glinted with humor, their silvery blue as striking as when he had been alive.
"Oh please, and you believe those idiots? I don't remember a damn thing, but I can promise you Granger, I most definitely did not kill myself."
This made her pause, before she responded in a low voice: "But your mother- she said, during her trial-"
For a split second, Malfoy's face contorted with anger: "Well she was wrong wasn't she? Do you honestly think that I would take my own life? Does that seem even remotely like something I would do?"
She thought about this for a second.
"No, I suppose not."
He nodded once, satisfied with her response.
"So it's definitely a mystery then. And who better to help solve it than the golden girl herself?" He joked, before adding: "Besides, you'll get all the answers you want this way."
She swallowed, and pretended not to notice the flicker of hope behind his eyes.
"It is rather odd- I mean, if I am to believe you."
He let out an exasperated sigh.
"Fucking brilliant- one stroke of luck in all my miserable life, and she doesn't even think I'm real." He muttered, more to himself than to her.
She'd ignore that statement for now. Her mind had returned to its hyper logical state, now that she had well and truly decided to indulge in the fantasy, purely for research purposes of course.
"If I am to believe you" She reiterated, "Then why would I help you?"
He cocked his head at her.
"Well that's rather selfish. I thought you Gryffindors loved to fight for an underdog."
Her breath hitched. He had no way of knowing just how accurate his statement was. She had been fighting for him.
She sniffed, tilting her nose up. "Yes well, you are asking a lot of me. I mean, what are you even suggesting, that I go about pretending like this isn't happening? Sneak around behind everyones backs in order to help you?"
He blinked.
"Yes, that's exactly what I'm suggesting."
She shifted again on her cot, taking him in with a glare.
"And if I refuse?"
His expression turned suddenly dark, and she had to stop herself from gasping. He looked shockingly different like that, the shadows that played over his face accentuated to make him appear even more corpse-like.
"Then I'll make your life a living hell." He grit out.
"Pleasant."
He shrugged.
"I never said it would be."
She set her jaw in frustration and looked away from him as she mulled over his words.
There were two possible scenerios to this situation. The first, was that she had lost her mind, and he was a hallucination. In that case, wouldn't any further involvement only provide an excuse for her brain to keep manifesting him? That surely would be detrimental to her sanity, if any of it were still intact.
The second, and she couldn't decide if it were more or less frightening than the first, was that he was actually real. In which case, she would feel compelled to help him. But this presented her with several glaring issues as well. She knew she would somehow have to keep it a secret, and even if she did uncover exactly what was happening, how would she convince anyone of the truth, knowing that they couldn't see him? And what would that even mean for either of them, if they did? What was their goal? To simply discover the circumstances of his death? Or to have him cross over to the other side, if that was even possible?
And if she failed, would he really make her life a living hell?
Hermione hadn't registered in the time she was thinking, that the early morning light had begun to break from the cloud coverage, and outside the ward the first sounds of shuffling feet were moving across the halls.
Malfoy glanced nervously to the entrance of the hospital wing, then back to her.
"We haven't got all day Granger, are you up for this or not?"
She snapped her gaze back up to meet his, and finally saw the desperation in his face.
And though she should have told him no, or even perhaps that she needed more time to consider, that painful look made something in her heart wrench violently, and without a second more of consideration, she found herself nodding in agreement.
"Ok Malfoy. I'll try."
A wide grin spread over his face once more, and just then the doors to the hospital opened with a loud swoosh.
She turned to see Madame Pomfrey bustling in, several vials of potion gliding a few feet in front of her.
When Hermione turned back to the end of her cot, Draco was gone.
.
.
Poppy had trepidations about releasing Hermione so soon after her 'incident', but after the witch passed several health examinations, and swore over and and over again that she was perfectly fine, she was sent off with a package of tiny violet potions, and a weary eyed demand that she be easy on herself for the next couple of days.
Hermione was hiding the slight nervous tremor in her hands the whole time, sitting on them when she could in order to stop the little movement. Luckily, she had perfected the ability of keeping a brave face over the course of the war, and this paired with some solid coercion tactics, made it so she was leaving the ward before lunch.
She felt guilty about lying, and a part of her even considered telling Madame Pomfrey that she knew for a fact the little vials of calming draught would do nothing to help her. But another part of her, the more resounding part, told her to wait until she had solid proof either way.
Of course, the very first thing she did once she had fled the hospital wing, was head to the library.
Having been excused of all her classes, she had ample amount of time to throw herself into her research. She had already read several books that spoke about ghosts, ghouls, and spectres, but nevertheless picked them all up again, deciding that she would have to at least skim them over, to see if she had missed anything. On top of this, she added several heavy tomes that had a wider range of topics, mystical creatures and what not, and even, several texts about wizard psychosis and hallucination.
As she meandered along the isles, scanning for anything else that could be relevant, she passed by the little window seat she had sat on the night before. She stilled as she glanced over to the now seemingly innocent spot, and shivered, before hurrying to the back of the library.
Eventually, she chose a table that was covertly covered by three walls of books.
She plopped down on the little loveseat, and let the ridiculous stack of novels she was levitating land with a thud. She categorized them by subject, as well in order of what she thought would be the most useful, and then began to pick away at them, bit by bit.
She remained utterly immersed in her task, not noticing as time swiftly passed by her, for at least four hours before she had to slam the book she was reading shut, and take a deep breath. She reached for her wand in order to cast the spell that would ease her steadily forming headache.
So far, she had discovered very little to support the claim that Malfoy, or perhaps her version of Malfoy, was real.
There was quite simply nothing, not one instance she could find, that referenced a ghost only one person could see.
She had even briefly considered zombies, before recalling the way her spells had passed straight through him, that night in her bedroom.
And besides, Malfoy looked like a ghost.
Not in the way the wizarding world knew them; he was very unlike the silvery torments that floated through the halls of Hogwarts, and any other magical building that had been around long enough to see a traumatic death or two.
No, Malfoy had color, substance. He was much more similar to how she had imagined ghosts to be as a little girl; rather like a normal person, but with the shock of death still lingering on their face.
He was pale, and sunken in, with unnatural blue tones around his eyes and mouth. Everything about his image had a tangible edge to it, and then there was that clearly identifiable cold he brought with him, the one that made her teeth chatter and her heart go still.
The only thing she could find that came remotely close this description, were a handful of very brief statements regarding those who were called back from the dead with the resurrection stone. But Hermione had never once even touched the thing in her life, which was explicitly crucial to its working.
Even so, she had jotted it down in her notes, which she now looked over once more, hoping that somehow they would lead to a revelation.
"...After the user has turned the stone over in his or her hand, their lost loved one will appear; albeit an incomplete version of what they once were, a shadowy phantom caught between the two plains of existence..."
Hermione's handwriting had become rushed and slanted as she wrote down the phrase: "lost loved one", finding it to be much too similar to what McGonagall has said the day before. She tried her best to ignore it, and underlined that very last part. The use of the word "shadowy" was interesting. Not perfect, but perhaps a step in the right direction.
Then she added another note at the top of the page; reminding herself to ask Harry about the stone in one of her next letters to him.
The next bit of information that seemed somewhat pertinent, came from a rather unexpected source; The Defense Against The Dark Arts textbook Snape assigned them in their sixth year, titled "Confronting the Faceless".
She vaguely remembered seeing something in there about conjured spectres, and though she had to scan at least half of the work in order to find it again, eventually she did, right at the bottom of page 283, in tiny, block script.
The passage, which was discussing a particularly nasty spell that could trick it's victims into briefly seeing a false reality, said:
"It is possible that a dark witch or wizard, in an overly erratic mental state, can unintentionally access this form of magic. In rare instances such as this, the subject is able to manifest disturbing images or even full scenes into real life, to the torment of both themselves and others.
Fortunately, such illusions are extremely mentally taxing to perform, and they can neither interact with the physical world, nor survive in it for very long. Often times, these apparitions will not last more than 30 seconds or so, before fading out of existence again."
Then, it went on to provide several examples. But none of these fit quite right either. Hermione liked to think that she herself was not a dark witch, and each moment spoken of in the book were all undeniably the results of dark magic.
Then there was the fact that her hallucinations were so drawn out; they lasted for much longer than 30 seconds or so, and though she was left both frightened and anxious afterwards, she hadn't collapsed from exhaustion, like every example described.
Quite simply, the pieces of evidence she had collected in order to prove his existence, were slim to none. On the other hand, she had found an overwhelming amount of information to support the idea that he was in fact a hallucination, caused by her pent up stress and trauma over the past few months.
In fact, she actually had to put down the book: "A Healer's Guide to Magical Psychosis", because its implications were simply too much for her to take in.
According to this text, Hermione's symptoms were a result of extreme grief; just as McGonagall had suggested. And apparently, the more present these fantasies became, the more indicative they were of rapid mental decline and impending paranoia. Admittedly though, Hermione realized that this wasn't exactly a perfect fit either; not once had it mentioned that these hallucinations were capable of upholding detailed conversations.
Still, she had snapped the book shut, and shakily placed it out of sight, deciding to return to it when she wasn't so overwhelmed with information.
It was just as she finally put aside her notes, deciding to pick up another book (one on the history of famous apparitions), that a cold air wafted over her and she felt her the hairs on her arm stand on end, alerting her to his presence before she even saw him.
Still, when she turned to find Malfoy slouched next to her on the loveseat, she jolted, and released a small sound of shock, pressing her back into the opposite end of the couch.
He gave her a wicked grin.
"Surprised to see me Granger?"
She glanced nervously around them, though she knew they were alone.
"You can't do that Malfoy!" She said in a furious whisper.
He shrugged. "Why not? No one else knows I'm here."
"Yes, but- you can't just pop out of no where like that, it's alarming!"
He rolled his eyes.
"Alright well, how do you suppose I should do it then?"
She bit at her bottom lip, and slowly considered the question.
"I guess, maybe we could have designated meeting times, you know, where we could set aside an hour or two to discuss what we've learned and-"
She had to stop mid sentence, because he was leaning closely into her, his eyes fixated on the lower half of her face.
She recoiled further in surprise: "What- what is it?"
He didn't move away as he spoke: "I like that thing you do, with your mouth."
He lifted a finger, and traced it in the air.
Hermione blinked furiously,
"I- What?!"
That mischievous smile returned to his face.
"Reservations Granger, remember?"
Then he moved away from her, and cast his attentions to the pile of books.
"So I see you've been studying up on me."
She swallowed, still shaking slightly due to their recent proximity. She was unable to shift her eyes away from his face as she spoke.
"Yes, well I haven't learned very much of anything yet, unfortunately you're a bit of an enigma Malfoy."
He huffed a laugh, his gaze still shifting over the open pages.
"Well that sounds dashing. But surely you must have found something by now, Merlin you've got a lot of books."
She shook her head.
"No, nothing really fits. I did read about a couple of things that were similar, but not exactly helpful."
He looked up at her, with his brow slightly furrowed, much the way a disappointed professor would.
"Hm. That's unfortunate. I'd hoped you would have made some progress by now."
She scoffed. "Well it's not exactly a widely talked about phenomenon, and I think I've been doing alright considering my life was perfectly phantom-free less than 24 hours ago."
He thought about this, then responded: "I suppose. Just don't dally yeah?"
Her eyes widened, and she scoffed. "Don't dally? I hope you realize that I'm doing you a massive favor, and I'll take as much time as I damn well please."
She didn't realize that her voice was becoming raised, but what broke her out of her trance was the sound of footsteps, and then a second later, a younger Ravenclaw boy passing by their little area. He did a slight double take when he saw that she was alone, no doubt expecting there to be someone else she was arguing with.
She gave him a quick, awkward smile, and he bustled off a little nervously.
She released a heavy sigh, then faced Malfoy again, her voice returning to a cautious whisper.
"See? This is why we can't do this right now. I won't be much help to you if I'm locked up in a mental ward, and that's what's going to happen if I keep getting spotted yelling at the air."
She gestured to him faintly, and he rubbed his jaw in thought, then nodded.
"Right. Well, I suppose I'll leave you to it then." He looked almost disappointed.
Then his gaze locked back onto her, and he jabbed a finger in her direction, adding:
"But I make no promises to stay away from you, or adhere to any silly schedule you're going to make."
She shook her head quickly.
"That's not fair! At least give me some warning before you show up!"
He smirked, before saying:
"Nope, can't do that Granger. Guess you'll just have to get used to me."
When she blinked, still formulating a response, he was gone again.
With shaky fingers she returned to the book that was still resting on her lap.
But as she tried to shift her gaze to its stained pages, she found that she could no longer focus on the tiny print.
She doubted she would ever get used to seeing the ghost of Draco Malfoy, especially when he literally came and went at the blink of an eye. At this rate, she would be jumping out of her skin every five minutes, and that simply wouldn't do.
That and the fact that he was acting quite, different, to say the least.
His taunting words about her mouth, and about letting go of reservations, it was all very unlike the Malfoy she had known. And she knew the fact that she wanted to believe it was real, was probably not a good sign. She had to reconcile with what at this point was the most logical explanation: he was a fantasy of her own creation, an idealized version of what she had always wanted him to be.
She tried not to panic again as the gravity of it all swarmed her. She had never been so unsure of herself in her entire life. Up until this moment, she had always been so completely certain of everything she did, everything she believed, so confident in herself, but now-
How could she possibly know what was real?
She would have to do more research, source out more obscure texts, and search until she found anything that could actually help her. There had to be someone out there that knew what it was she was experiencing, and if the answer at the end of all this truly was that she was going mad- Well, she supposed she would cross that bridge when she came to it.
Because despite what her practical, rational mind told her, the more times she saw him the more she couldn't deny the deeply conflicting and internal sense that he was in fact real.
If she was creating it all in her head, then it was a very convincing illusion.
Perhaps she should save the memory of that first night, so she could look it over and review if there was anything she had missed, about her reaction or his, that could help her piece together the truth.
She let out a stifled gasp and shot to her feet, accidentally bruising her knee on the little table as she did.
She ignored the dull pain, and swiftly began to conjure her books into a pile.
Of course, she thought to herself, shaking her head.
How could she have been so stupid?
She rushed her way to the front of the library, and checked out all of the novels that she hadn't fully looked over, before practically running to McGonagall's office.
.
.
Why hadn't she thought of the pensive before? Even if McGonagall couldn't see Malfoy in the flesh (or whatever it was), surely she should be able to see him through the eyes of her memory?
She was almost giddy at the thought, not even stopping to fully consider the fact that the pensive was broken.
It had been smashed to bits during the war, and though she had heard rumors that the professors were attempting to restore it, she truly had no idea what state of condition it was in.
But if it was still able to work, then she may have just found a plausible solution for getting the headmistress on her side.
She hurried up to the large stone Gargoyle, and uttered the password McGonagall had given her in an excited voice she barely recognized.
The second the rotating staircase revealed itself, she ran onto the steps and stumbled her way to the large, ornate door. She wrapped her knuckles on the engraved wood in a series loud, rapid knocks.
It opened slowly, and she shoved her way through it, panting as she entered the circular office.
McGonagull was looking at her over a pair of delicate silver reading glasses, clearly surprised to see her so flustered.
"Miss Granger? Is everything all right?"
Hermione strode over to stand at the opposite end of the enormous, clawfoot desk.
"Professor, I came to ask, is the pensive at all capable of replaying memories?"
The headmistress quietly placed her quill down, folded her hands together, and then looked back up at Hermione.
"It isn't fully functional, but occasionally it does allows for some reflection, yes. Why do you ask?"
Hermione had to stop herself from grinning at the news.
"I was wondering if I could try to use it, to extract the memory of my, um, my hallucination."
The older witch breathed out a little sigh.
"I assumed you'd ask me that eventually. Unfortunately, I'm quite apprehensive to let anyone use it, much less one of my students. It often rejects the sender-
"Professor, please." Hermione begged.
McGonagall's eyes clouded with pity.
"Miss Granger, I can already tell you what we're going to see if we do this, and I don't think it's the answer you want."
She reacted quickly, inventing a lie on the spot.
"I understand. I know now that It was all in my head, really, but I think if I were actually to see it, then perhaps it would eliminate any lingering doubts."
She stared pleadingly at the headmistress, watching her think things over in her head, her face reflecting that same obvious concern.
After a moment, she let out another sigh, this time of defeat, and nodded faintly.
"Alright. But we'll have to be very cautious about it. And I'll also have to go in with you, so that I can pull you out if things start to go awry."
Hermione felt overwhelmed with relief, but also a little surprised. She hadn't expected McGonagall to agree so quickly. Nevertheless, she was grateful.
"Thank you professor, thank you so much."
McGonagall nodded once more, and began to rise from her seat, pacing over to the enchanted cabinet that held the magical item.
"I suppose it is the least I could do. But please remember Miss Granger, I am making a special exception for this one circumstance. If we are unable to see Mr. Malfoy, then I'm afraid that will have to be the end of it."
Hermione fluttered to her side, already retracting her wand.
"Yes of course, I completely understand."
Then, she watched as McGonagall summoned the luminous disc into the air in one fluid motion.
With trembling hands, Hermione positioned her wand to her temple, and let her eyes close, thinking of the memory in its entirety, and pulling the silver strands from her mind.
When she felt the spell come to completion, she looked back to the other witch, who pursed her lips and said:
"You can go ahead, I think it should be ready."
Then, after a moment of hesitation, she let the delicate wisps float down to the surface, and watched as they turned into dark plumes of ink-like liquid.
She felt McGonagall take hold of her hand, before they simultaneously immersed their faces in the water.
Immediately, as the cold came in contact with her skin, Hermione could see the inky memory begin to level out, until she was watching herself; traipsing quietly across her dorm room, and shifting aside the covers of her bed with a slight rustle.
She held her breath as her own image glanced at the window, shivered, and a moment later reached for the curtains.
Then, she saw herself go still, and she knew that this was the moment she had seen him.
She strained her eyes, trying to look past herself and down by the lake, where Malfoy had stood the night before.
She couldn't quite make it out though, and then the scene began to evolve.
She watched herself crumple and shake on her bed, muttering frantic little phrases to herself. Then, she felt a similar shiver run down her spine as she relieved the moment in which she went still, feeling that ominous cold for the first time.
All too quickly, the images began to fog over, bit by bit swirling together, as the pensive started to forcefully eject her from the memory.
But not before she saw herself turn to face the corner of the room, screaming, lifting her wand, and throwing hexes, aiming at an empty space.
There was nothing there.
With a harsh thud she landed on the floor of the office, the damning sequence if events still floating in her mind, but no longer before her eyes.
She barely even registered it when McGonagall held out a paper thin hand to her, though she took it and rose to her feet.
"Are you alright, Hermione?" She said, her voice soft, and understanding.
Hermione couldn't bring herself to meet the older witch's eyes, shaking as she brushed off her robes.
"Yes- Yes I think so. I'm just fine, really, just fine."
She glanced at the pensive again, a lump the size of a rock forming in her throat.
McGonagall placed a hand on her shoulder, just as she had in the hospital wing.
"Do you need to take a moment dear? I could send for Poppy to get some more calming draught."
She could tell tears were welling up in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
"No, that's alright, thank you Headmistress, I- I think I should just go lie down."
McGonagall looked as if she wanted to say something more, but Hermione continued.
"Really, It's not- I'm-I'm alright. It's nothing I didn't already expect. Thank you so much for letting me use it."
"Are you absolutely sure Miss Granger? You should know that you can always talk to me about it. I'll not judge you. I meant what I said, about wanting to help."
She nodded feebly.
"Yes, yes, I know Professor, thank you."
She was already stumbling away, towards the exist.
"I'm sorry, I know I'm being terribly rude, I just need to lie down, I'll be fine."
McGonagall took one step closer, but didn't press it.
"Alright dear, just get some rest. But please, Hermione, do check in with Poppy and I."
She tried to smile, but found she couldn't, and simply nodded again, retreating out of the office.
.
.
As Hermione made her way back to her dorm, she trembled, and let a few stray tears slip discretely down her face.
Malfoy really was just a hallucination.
Seeing herself throw hexes across an empty room had only confirmed that much.
So why did she feel sick to her stomach, like it was all just so wrong?
She thought she was in control of her mind. She thought she would be able to conquer whatever was happening to her with steadfast rationality, like always. She thought-
Well, apparently, she had thought wrong.
Apparently, her own mind, the one thing she had always consistently relied on, couldn't be trusted.
And Merlin, she realized now that this was much scarier than any apparition.
But then again, how could the fantasy even continue, now that she was aware of it? Perhaps she wouldn't even see him again.
And if she did?
She wouldn't know what to do. She supposed she would simply try asking him to go away. See how much influence she had over her own illusion.
And then she would come clean to Harry, Ron and Ginny, for better or for worse. She couldn't put it off for any longer than she already had, and maybe, just maybe, she could also use their help.
By the time she slipped into her dorm, her tears long gone but her anxiety holding steadfast, Hermione had convinced herself that she was in a very bizarre, and potentially dire situation, somehow of her own design.
She absentmindedly illuminated the dark space with a flick of her wand. Evidently, she would spending the night on her own, because it was already quite late and Parvarti wasn't there.
Which wasn't unusual; most nights Parvarti snuck out to sleep in the Hufflepuff dorms with her boyfriend, Justin Finch-Fletchley. But Hermione couldn't help but feel as though this time it was connected to her recent behavior.
She pulled off her heavy robes, and instantly regretted it, already starting to shiver. She glanced over to her bed to see if she had accidentally left the window open, and released a little scream when she saw him there, seated against the glass.
Immediately, he was rushing to her side.
"Shh! Jesus Granger!"
She clamped her mouth shut, looking at him with wide, uncertain eyes.
He shook his head at her, looking exacerbated.
"You've got to stop doing that."
She blinked, reacting slower than she ought to, too shocked from seeing him so shortly after she had decided he wasn't real.
"Malfoy you- you shouldn't be here." She said finally.
He glanced about her room, his nose crinkling slightly. "You're right. This place is a health hazard, even for me, and I'm dead."
"No I mean, you shouldn't be here, with me." She said, shaking her head slightly, and inching backwards. How did he look so real?
He furrowed his brow. "I thought we had agreed-"
Then, it all came tumbling out.
"Yes but you're not real Malfoy. You're a hallucination that I'm making up in my head, and you've got to go away."
She glanced down, unable to hide her guilt. She had wanted to be more tactful about this, but now it was too late. She couldn't stop.
"I'm sorry but I can't play this game anymore and that's just the truth. You've- you've got to go."
He stared at her quietly, then let out a heavy sigh, and turned his face to glance around at nothing, thinking of how to respond.
After a moment, he said: "Look. I'm sure it would be very nice, and very easy, for you to believe that. But like it or not Granger, I'm here, and I can't go anywhere else."
Then he met her gaze again, and took a step towards her, opening his mouth to continue his statement. But he stopped abruptly as he saw her cringe, and instead his face twisted in confused frustration.
"Why do you keep doing that?" He demanded.
"Doing what?"
"Flinching away from me?"
She stuttered, surprised: "I- I'm not, I- I mean I was but-"
Then, the frown slowly disappeared from his features, and his mouth curved into a slanted grin.
"You're not scared of me are you?" He said in a low voice.
"After all, I'm just your hallucination, aren't I?"
He moved even closer, and she stumbled backwards.
He let out a pleasant laugh, his eyes twinkling.
"Oh, you are."
Then he closed the gap between them, reaching out to brush her shoulder with his finger tips:
"Not to worry Granger. See? I can't even touch y-"
But the second his hand came into contact with her they both froze, and the cocky grin fell off his face in an instant.
Hermione shivered, and retreated, her eyes going wide as she clutched the cool spot on her arm where he had most definitely just touched her.
Malfoy looked awestruck, unmoving as he stared, his hand still poised as if to touch again. When he finally spoke, his voice came out strained:
"I- "
She took a final step back, suddenly frightened as the weight of that touch sunk in.
But before she could fully come to terms with it, he suddenly took hold of her shoulders in his icy grasp.
Hermione let out a surprised squeak as she tried to wriggle away, but he held her tight; that same dumbfounded expression on his face as he took her in, looking at her as if she couldn't possibly be real.
Then, using his thumbs, he began to swirl deep circles into her shoulders, kneading against the flesh as if to assert it was really there. She tried again to move out of his hold, but he forced her in place, his eyes trained on their point of contact.
"Stop squirming will you?" He whispered in a low, breathy voice. She had never heard him sound like that before, and for some inexplicable reason, she slowly halted her movements.
As she stilled, her heart beating at an alarming rate, Malfoy massaged along the little dip between her shoulders and her collar bone. She tried to stop her eyes from fluttering as his cold hands worked their way up her neck, as if he were exploring skin for the first time, watching intently as his thumb pressed against her and made soft indentations in the yielding flesh.
Though his fingers continuously stroked the arch of her neck to her shoulders, pressing with a harsh eagerness, his eyes slowly dropped to appraise the rest of her frame. Then, in a quick little motion, he pulled her straight onto him, pressing her body against his own.
Hermione fought the urge to convulse as his frigid hands roamed over her, one snaking its way to the back of her head and fisting in her curls, the other greedily groping at her sides and her back, pressing her into him so hard that it almost hurt.
He leaned his face into the space between her shoulder and her neck, and inhaled the scent of her skin.
"God, you're so warm." He choked out desperately against her. He was still gripping at her, trying to feel as much of her body as he could with his unrelenting hands.
She felt a moan claw to the back of her throat, and before she could let it escape she wrenched her eyes open and pushed him off of her.
The look on his face was crazed as he stumbled back, regaining his footing and taking a step towards her again, before she nervously jolted away from him.
"Stop! What are you doing?!"
He wasn't even looking at her face, he was looking at her body with feverish eyes, as if it was something he needed.
"Hermione, please, you don't understand." He said in throaty voice.
Malfoy's tongue darted over his lips and she shivered. She wished he would look her in the eyes, the blazing intensity of his gaze on her body made her tingle with unwanted anticipation.
"I haven't- I haven't been able to touch, t- to feel anything, not since-"
He was approaching her again, and she registered now with labored breaths that he was backing her into a corner.
His brow crumpled in confusion, but it barely reached his dark eyes as he continued, speaking quietly, as if he were only talking to himself.
"But I can feel you- and you're so warm, God please, please let me touch you-"
Hermione ducked under his outstretched arm, stumbled a bit, and fled across the room.
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Hello my dearies, I hope you're all enjoying yourselves so far. All the comments I've received for this story are so lovely, and I cherish each and every one of them! I'll hopefully be posting a lot more over the next couple weeks now that I have more free time on my hands, so keep an eye out for chapter updates!
Also, I know DM seems a little out of character in this chapter, but I'm hoping that will start to make more sense as the story reveals itself more.
Hope you liked it!
P.S.
Special thanks to; niamh x, LLyvers6, SweetSizzle614, Mila06 and Caro2728 for your comments! 3
-Triliark