Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or books mentioned in this story. I do, however, own the White Rose.

Author's Note: When writing this, I didn't intend to offend anyone, by mentioning cancer. I needed to use its growth comparison that's all.

Summary – A ghost Ginny talks from a branch above her grave after Draco leaves. And she's got all the time to do so, because death is irreversible. Companion piece to Mold.

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When I have the chance I want to say to you

Wishing I could take back what I put you through

I'll never do it again

We're like oil and water, still we somehow mix

And what used to be broken is somehow fixed

It's hard to explain

I know some people say

That opposites attract

If that's the truth then we

We will be together forever

~ All I Can Do by Jump 5

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Cancer

Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy. Since when have I been perfect? I was never perfect, always tripping over my two left feet or tucking my 60% History of Magic paper away in my bag. History of Magic was always my worst subject, partially because, if you concentrate hard enough, Professor Binns voice can be very soothing, and partially because I had always found muggle history more exciting. Did you know, Malfoy, that if we were as advanced as the ancient Egyptians or the ancient Greeks, we wizards would have already found a way to cure the incurable disease, death.

But of course you didn't know that. Nor do you really care, right Malfoy? Never did then, never do now. But think of it, if we could have found a way to cure death, I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't be a ghost, a spirit, a drifting angel. I could have been at Hogwarts, finishing up my education. Maybe even finishing my book The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe for the fifth time. Yes, it was the Chronicles of Narnia I read, same with The Lord of the Rings, Pride and Prejudice, A Tale of Two Cities, and The Odyssey. These books were all classic muggle fiction I had snuck into Hogwarts for reading over the years, then donated to Madam Pince so that she could use them for later reading. Maybe someday, they'll be in the school library, if it hasn't been destroyed yet.

You were alone at Hogwarts, I saw. You smirked and talked, but your words were empty and you were empty. I saw you just as I saw everyone, for what they were inside. You probably didn't see me, I watched. I was the observer. I noticed things that people didn't, things they ignore or things that they'd never see.

I saw your eyes light up when you spoke to me, and the tiniest bit of blush flush your cheeks. But I was surprised, you saw the White Rose. My White Rose, a fallen piece of star, hidden inside a pure rose. It was a symbol to me, a gift from Daddy. It stood for hope, joy, light, and life. Daddy said that even though I had been tainted, I still reminded him of it. I was his hope, joy, light, and life. The Rose and I identified with each other. We were two stars, shining in a dark world.

And then you came and soiled it. You poured the purist blood on the whitest rose, and it remained. My beautiful White Rose, with the fallen piece of star, stained with the blood from a unicorn. A unicorn, Malfoy, are we really this heartless? You knew that the image disturbed me, that dead, graceful animal, lying there over a dead stump. It haunted my for days.

I screamed when I found my rose. I struck you when I heard that it was you, Malfoy, that had tainted my rose. I cried for days.

But the Rose held on, even though it was covered with blood. And I held on. We were two tainted stars, still shining.

Tell me Malfoy, who is winning this war? The light, or the dark – or should I say the weak and the strong? Each day, more and more die, muggles, wizards, witches. Those guilty, those innocent, and those who defend, they join me by the hundreds. Is Voldemolt reigning, or does Harry still hold out, and my death in vain? Or is it the other way around, Malfoy, does Harry reign, and Voldemolt hold out?

Does life for you flash by, or does each day drag on and on, almost never ending? There are no days in heaven, no nights in hell. There is no concept of time in where I am. Do you miss me or does your mind not give me a thought? Did you come to my grave out of heartbreak, or because this was the day I died?

A interesting thing about muggles is their illnesses that they have managed to find. I always was fascinated by their ailments of the mind, body, and spirit. Coughs, colds, influenza, deformations, chicken pox, mumps, AIDS, albinos, leprosy, insanity, despair, unworthiness, the list goes on and on. One of the most deadly illnesses that a muggle could possibly have was cancer, Malfoy. And there were loads and loads of them, so many that one could have. Cancer of the lungs, cancer of the foot, cancer of the brain, cancer of the tongue, cancer of the blood; muggle doctors poured their lives into saving others that could be saved, holding out hope and praying for the ones that they couldn't.

Sometimes, cancer grows and spreads, maiming parts of the body and spreading to others. It's a painful thing, having it, and it's a painful thing, having it removed. People die from it. And those who live undergo intense therapy to make sure that it's removed. They become weak as blood cells die, they loose their hair under the chemotherapy.

You were my cancer, Malfoy. You were the cancer of the heart. I hated you for the most part, really I did. You were my enemy and I was yours. You annoyed me and I annoyed you. It was a daily thing.

But then, I still don't know what happened. Something changed between us. Maybe it started in you, or maybe is started in me, I do not know, but it was there. It was a feeling inside that changed the way I thought of you, the way I saw and treated you. I didn't like it and I didn't welcome it, but after a while, I gave in. I was tired and wanted to see what would happen between you and me.

It was a cancer. A disease called love ate away at me as I looked blindly at you. Did you ever feel like that, like you were in so much love that you didn't give a care at the rest of the world.

I felt like that.

All the time.

And I still feel it.

I loved you, Malfoy, and I love you still. I probably will love you to the end of time and space, when the sea will crash into the ocean and the sun explodes. You were my hope and life-source. You were my addiction and my solution. You were my everything, my all that I had poured myself into. I fell in foolishly and look where I am.

Then you went away, and I had to face school without you. I had to face loneliness, hopelessness, and despair. I pulled through it and it made me stronger. You liked strong. You liked pretty. You liked smart.

And maybe it was my love for muggles that sealed my fate. Maybe it was my support for all that stood for hope and light that killed me. All I know that I am dead, and I am free. Free. What a wonderful word. No longer am I held captive by your spellbinding eyes or magical words, now I unconfined. Open.

I am dead, and it is a disease that is irreversible, as you pointed out so.

There is good in this world, Malfoy, it is everywhere. And yes, I could see it in everyone and everything, even those whose hope for a good had long since died out.

Thank you for the rose, Malfoy. I would pick it up and kiss it if I had hand to hold, but for now, I think that I will cry on it.

Author's Note:

Many thanks to reviewers Tigerlily (I sure will… as soon as the muse gets my fingers on that story!), Arianell, Liebling, Pebble of Insanity (sequal's up and ready for your reviewing pleasure! It's called 'Remember When'), Darcel, Rainbow Dreamer (ok, I wouldn't say FULL PLOT. I wouldn't even say A PLOT), sabacat, The angelic vampire, Crystal (I myself have no idea how she died. I just needed her dead), and Audreetee.

As always, reviews are appreciated. Smoky the Bear extinguishes flames and fines flamers.