"Bound?" Ron echoed. What in the world did that mean? He flung his hand in Percy's direction, not even bothering to look at him. "To him?!"

Jillie swore under her breath and with a pitying nod to Ron she floated to a ceiling corner to hover like a silver cloud in the darkness. The room was left in apprehensive silence purified by the fact that Harry was the only one breathing.

The Grey Lady, with a patient shake of her head, glided forward, the edge of her dress just skimming the floor. Ron instinctively jerked back, somewhat alarmed that the ghost of a rival non-Gryffindor house would dare approach him while merely standing like a fool while the Bloody Baron declared. . . Ron didn't rightly know what had just happened. But the Grey Lady had done nothing. Now she came forward, her too-wise face as warm as anything his own mother could make. "I know it seems a harsh punishment. . ." She frowned, an obvious concealment of confusion. "Ron, is it? The one who was murdered.. yes. But it is only a mere century-they go by so fast when one is dead. We have seen cases like this before. They just conflict so with the order of the school. I'm afraid they never end well on themselves, either."

"A mere century? That's stupid!" shouted Ron. "And what exactly is this?"

"Shut up, you're making it worse." Percy spoke with such ferocity that Ron was forced to waste a glance. As he expected, Percy was staring at the Baron with evident awe and fear, the same slimy brown-nosing he bestowed upon everyone else with a bit of power. But there was something else just as recognizable: Percy was as furious as Ron.

"How much worse could it be?"

The Bloody Baron put his wand away with a snap, sliding it somewhere into the mess of rags he wore. "Shall I extend the sentence to an extra century, then?" There was no jest in his voice.

"Don't frighten them, Baron." With a tinkling laugh unsuited to her demeanor the Grey Lady floated back to her former place of ignorance behind the Baron. "Two centuries may be too much and may cause unwanted chaos. Which completely disregards the point."

The chill of the room strengthened as the Baron's bony face twisted into a sneer. "Fine, then," he said, rolling his bloodshot eyes. "One century, if it pleases Rebeccah so."

"And it does," she replied sincerely. "Thank-you."

"But I don't want to be bound to that. . ." Ron tried to think of a word that would fully express everything, but his mind went blank, "... git for a century!" He looked again to Percy, hoping for some sign of agreement.

Percy ignored Ron, seeming taking all his will to do so. "Baron, what does this exactly entail?"

Ron didn't even know what that word meant.

"Of course you'd want to know the details," the Baron replied, his sneer deepening with more sick joy free of the Grey Lady's restraints. No wonder he was the Slytherin ghost, Ron thought. "Look at your wrists."

"Wrist?" For a moment Ron stared at the Baron. Then, for lack of anything better to do, he pulled back the sleeves of his robe. Neatly tied around his right wrist was a measure of silvery, misty rope.

"What the-?" Percy tugged at the identical rope around his own wrist. "What is this?"

"Your bindings," the Baron said. "Don't even bother to try to remove them. These will keep you within fifty feet of each other at all times. Except. . ." He held up three pale, blood-covered fingers. "Each year, you can have three days apart of your own choosing. Take advantage of those."

"Why three days? There's no point to that."

The Baron drew a cold stare that could have ended the conversation on its own. "Because of reasons beyond my power. A break is necessary." He turned and faded through the wall, the Grey Lady behind him.

For a brief moment the common room seemed as it had been only minutes before, quiet and undisturbed by any thought-worthy pressures. Then Percy let out an irritated scream. "What were you thinking? Oh, no, you probably weren't thinking-you never do!"

"Me?" Ron yanked vainly at the rope. "What about you? You just stood there like he was your precious Minister or someone."

"As if you did anything but whine!"

Ron had no reply to that. "Well. . . you started the fight!"

Percy blinked. "I did. . . I did what?" His fingers clenched into a fist at his side. "You are the one who started it. You threw the first punch! How dare you say I started it!"

"You're the one who decided to come back." The rope wasn't coming off. Ron flicked at the tie ends and tried to imagine them as nooses.

"You. . " Percy bit his lip and slowly let his hands uncurl. "Well, it doesn't exactly matter whose fault it is now. It's an unfair judgment."

"It really is," Cornelia said softly. She slowly emerged from behind a couch, absentmindedly swinging her satchel. Ghostly ashes drifted from the cloth. "They had no right to do that to you."

"No right. . ." Percy met her eyes, and slowly horror registered in his face. "What do you mean?"

Cornelia sighed deeply. "I thought you knew. Like you told them, you don't even haunt this school. Neither of you do."

"I don't want to haunt anything," Ron muttered.

"You're a ghost now, get used to," Percy snapped before returning his attention to Cornelia. "So what are you saying?"

Her silver face darkened with a ghostly blush. "I thought you knew.. ."

"Knew what?"

"You don't know the rules?" Ron asked. To his surprise he felt somewhat betrayed. The one thing he could count on was that Percy would know the rules to everything.

"The Bloody Baron had no right to do that," Jillie announced, gliding down from the ceiling. "You were both Gryffindors in life, and the sorting of the houses keeps stronger ties than you might think. Around this school, only Nearly Headless Nick would have the power to do anything to you."

Ron stared at her, her words circling in his mind. "He didn't have the power. . ." He looked again at his wrist. The rope! It was just for show! "If he doesn't have the power, then he didn't do anything!" With a laugh he sped through the wall, into the corridor, and-

SNAP! The rope wrenched painfully into his wrist, jerking him to a stop. "Ow. . ." He rubbed the spot beneath the rope. What was the point of being dead if he could still feel pain. "It. . .it didn't work!"

Cornelia stuck her head through the wall, grinning sheepishly. "You didn't listen."

"But. . ." Confused, Ron returned to the common room. "But you told me the Bloody Baron didn't have the power to bind us."

Percy rubbed his own wrist and glared at Ron.

Jillie sighed as she moved to hover like a silver sheet above one of the couches, robe drifting like a shadow through the cushions. "It depends on how you define power. Just because he's not supposed to do something doesn't mean he can't."

The final glowing embers in the hearth died.

"But. . ." Percy's voice was strangely high. "But if I knew, I could have. . ."

"You could have stopped him." Jillie nodded.

"We thought you knew," Cornelia put in helpfully. "I was actually wondering why you were letting him get away with that."

He seemed to freeze, only his lips moving as he mumbled something silent. Then he swore. "I don't believe this!"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Ron asked Jillie and Cornelia. "You knew I had just died, that I wouldn't know the rules. I didn't know about the girls' dormitory!"

Cornelia blushed again, bursting into flames as she did so. "I didn't. . . I'm sorry, but the Grey Lady is the ghost of my house and-"

"And we're all scared of the Bloody Baron," Jillie finished, shuddering. "He's a monster."

"But still. . ." Ron pleaded. He felt silly doing so; it was clearly too late. "Where's Nearly Headless Nick? Maybe he could do something."

"That's right," said Percy, suddenly calmer. "He's a House Ghost. Our House Ghost."

Jillie shrugged. "I think he's trying to get into that Headless Hunters thing." She rolled her eyes. "Again. When will he learn they aren't going to accept him?"

"Well. .. when will he be back?"

Another shrug.

Ron grunted and tried to sit in one of the chairs. He still hovered a few inches into it. "So what are we supposed to do until then?"

"It is fifty feet," Cornelia mused as the last of the flames faded from her. "That's fairly long. You could even be in different rooms if you wanted."

"That's the best thing I've heard all night," he replied dryly. "Well, Percy, you've been stalking me. Finally happy?"

"I wasn't stalking you and no," Percy said, no emotion in his voice, nothing even directed to Ron. He stared at the empty hearth, face unreadable.

Ron studied him for a moment, then turned his gaze to the still-sleeping Harry. It wasn't fair. Yet all the anger he wanted to feel, knew he should be feeling, was gone, replaced by nearly overwhelming fatigue. He hadn't even fully recovered from walking through the walls back at the Burrow. . . He suddenly wanted to take Harry's cue and find a couch to curl up on. One that he didn't go through.

"We should probably leave," Cornelia said.

"Are you going back to Ravenclaw already?" Jillie asked, drifting from the chair.

Cornelia shook her head. "No, Rebeccah will be in one of her moods. I just don't feel comfortable being in here with. . . him." She nodded at Harry, still visible in the darkness. "I mean, he just defeated the Dark Lord! What else can he do?"

"He's sleeping, so we can't properly wait around to find out," Jillie said. "Let's go to the dungeons."

"I hate the dungeons," Ron said with a yawn.

"Not the classrooms, the real dungeons. They're still down there."

At any other time the idea would have been tempting. More than tempting. He would have loved to explore down there, Harry at his side and Hermione behind them imagining all the trouble they would be in. And of course he would be alive.

"I'd love to go," Percy announced.

The expression on Jillie's face made it clear that she did not want him coming. "Well. . . I'll be down there, for those of you who wish to join me." She disappeared.

Cornelia hovered in the air, watching them with mild interest. "There is more room to... kill each other down there." She too vaporated.

"More room to be further apart," Percy muttered. "Come on, Ron. You can worry about Harry later."

Ron stuck out his tongue. "I think I'll just stay here and sleep. You can see how far you can stretch this stupid binding."

Percy eyed him resentfully. "Ghosts don't sleep. Just come."

"No."

"I'm going anyway."

Ron gave a dry laugh. "Try it."

"Hmph." Percy disappeared, and Ron felt again the painful pull on his wrist as he was forced from the common room.

Lights. Stifled talking. An occasional laugh that was quickly hushed and the continuous pounding of feet as people darted in and out, apparently too afraid to remain in the room for very long. Harry groaned and tried to close his mind to all the noise. It was morning, he could tell. Maybe even later. Not that it mattered. If he were allowed to, he felt he could just lie down and sleep forever until he could forget what had happened. Yet he knew he wouldn't be able to.

The flash of green through the dark cemetery. . . Ron! No. He clenched his teeth and tried to keep back the warm tears he felt welling up behind his closed eyelids. He had promised himself he wouldn't think about it.

And of course there was nothing to think about. Things that awful, they could only be dreams, awful nightmares that came from nowhere.

But it wasn't a nightmare. No amount of talk could change that fact, what he knew. He sucked in painful air and forced himself to sit up and look around. The common room stared back at him, fire burning in the hearth, undeservingly cheerful. He hated it.

He still felt so tired, but he was awake, in that painful and groggy way. Awake when he didn't want to be. Alive when he didn't want to be. Perhaps he could make himself go back to sleep... He leaned back against the soft cushions of the chair, the faded visions of a dream slowly coursing into his mind.... he couldn't really remember it. Something to do with Ron, probably. And it had been weird-that was the most distinct impression, oddly enough. Part of him clung to the memory, demanding to remember more.

"Good morning, Harry," said a soft voice.

Harry managed to look up. Hermione stood before him, hair a little too brushed and deep circles carved under her red eyes. She looked as miserable as he felt. "I'd hardly call it a good morning," he retorted.

His words took her back. "I know. . . oh, Harry, I do know that!" She began to tremble as tears spilled from her eyes, and she clamped her hands over her face.

He had done it again. Cursing himself, he rose to his feet and awkwardly put his arms around her. She immediately buried her face in his shoulder. "Hermione, I didn't mean that. I'm sorry."

She gulped back a sob and shook her head, further rubbing tears into Harry's cloak. Her hair scratched at his face. "No, it's not your fault. I feel so stupid. I was up all night-we all were in my dorm room- because I couldn't sleep and I had to do my homework."

Of course Hermione would attempt to lose herself in schoolwork, Harry thought with dim empathy.

"And then Parvati scared me because she said she sensed something just outside our door-you know how she still pretends to be psychic... and ... oh, Harry, I really miss him! I should have made him stay here..."

Harry shook his head, suddenly angry at Hermione for having to remind him. But he had already upset her enough...Ron had been her friend as well. "No, it was my fault. I told him to leave, and that's when.. . ."

"No!" Hermione pushed herself away, face red. "Don't you dare say that! I won't hear it! It wasn't anyone's fault!"

"Hermione.. . ." She didn't understand. She couldn't. It was his fault. All his fault his best friend was dead.

"No!" She took a deep breath, stabling her just as her legs shook beneath her. Harry grabbed her arm. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "I'm just so tired. . ."

And all Harry had been able to do was sleep. "What time is it?"

She gave a small shrug. "I don't know. What does it matter?"

"Then I think I'll just go back to sleep."

"Please, not in the common room again. Harry!" She jerked her arm away as he fell back against the chair.

He hadn't meant to. He cringed and gasped for breath. "I guess I'm really tired."

"Harry. . ." Hermione frowned, her recognizable worry clear. "When was the last time you ate?"

Ate? Who cared about eating? He could barely remember. "The night before last, I think."

She brushed a curl from her eyes and sighed. "Come get something to eat with me. You can't just let yourself starve."

"I don't want to eat anything," he muttered. But he still let Hermione drag him from the room. He wasn't feeling up to arguing with anyone.

It was strange, entering the Great Hall. It felt like a mausoleum, eerily quiet with only a few late breakfasters who barely dared look at Hermione and Harry before returning too eagerly to their meals.

What would they do if he stared at the? He limply let Hermione shove him into a chair.

"They're supposed to be celebrating," Hermione hissed. "Voldemort's gone. And they didn't even know Ron...." The slice of toast she had been grabbing for Harry's plate dropped to the table as more tears came. "Sorry."

No one reached for the toast. It didn't matter; Hermione had force-filled Harry's plate with more than it could hold, and he didn't plan on touching any of it. In utter hypocrisy she had taken nothing for herself. Harry stared at the food. Ron would have probably eaten it, regardless of anything. But Ron wasn't there.

Hermione sniffed and touched Harry's arm. "There's Ginny."

Ginny sat further down the table from them, her red hair unnaturally bright in the dim room where rain still fell at the enchanted ceiling. She had no food, not even a plate, and stared only at the table before her. Luna Lovegood sat next to her, talking quietly as she stroked her hand. Ginny didn't appear to notice. After a few minutes, Luna stood and left.

"Ginny!" Hermione called, nudging Harry with her elbow. "Say something to her."

Like what? I'm sorry I killed your brother? He forced a smile, knowing it to be nothing more than a weird, fake twist of his mouth.

Ginny ignored them.

"She just can't sit there alone," Hermione murmured. "Come on." Taking her empty plate and Harry's full one, she slid down the table to where Ginny sat.

Ginny took one look at them, stood, and ran from the Great Hall.

Shout Outs!

Awkward: I know what you mean about that scene, and I think I will rewrite it. But I sort of do need the Grey Lady just kind of... standing there unnecessarily for something I'm plotting.

Crystal Lightning: Yes, 100 years. Sucks to be them. Anywho... WHEN ARE YOU UPDATING YOUR STUFF?!?!

Hydraspit: Oh, it will be very interesting!

Jamie McFly: I already told you how he died, and he'd rather not discuss it. When I'll put it in the story...I don't know. Just consider yourself luck that you are privy to the mode of death. And I'll try and get more humor in here.

Krina: They can leave. I'll explain later.

LJ Fan: Thanks! It was kind of a hard barrier to break. The Bloody Baron and Grey Lady will hopefully have better characterizations in the future... but I'm glad you like them now.

Nkittyhawk: Glad I could ruin your Chinese food for you (mm.. Chinese....) I'll have her giggle less. She doesn't strike me as a way giggly character-just one who does it somewhat. So she'll lessen.

Redrose2310: Thanks for reading!

Tap Dancing Widow: Yeah, I couldn't do a ghost story without the Bloody Baron. Plus, I've big plans for him. joins in maniacal laughter

Written in Stars: Ron is not an idiot! How dare you call him an idiot! releases the evil annoying mole thing Don't worry about the funeral scene, it will be okay.