Stupid, stupid, stupid. Ron blasted through a row of shelves, flashes of parchment and wood slicing through him. He barely noticed. All that mattered was Hermione behind him, staring into whatever realms of the netherworld she might be imagining. Bloody hell, did she still think he was there? What else might she be thinking? Her dead friend was haunting her, her dead friend was haunting her.

And he was that dead friend. How stupid could he have been?

Or maybe she thought she was insane–he had only been there for a second or two, just enough to be but a vision of madness. So now she thought she was seeing things. Maybe he should go back and be sure, maybe explain. . . Explain what? That he liked to follow her around and spy on her? He had seen Hermione angry. . .

Percy hadn't moved, though he was now surrounded by a growing ring of tossed-off books. He flipped through another volume, face like stone, before throwing it aside with an unintelligible murmur. He looked up as Ron neared, glowering. "I'm not finding anything."

As if Ron cared. "Then why are you still looking?"

"At least I'm doing something." He swiped at another book with barely a glance at the title, sending it spinning into a physical shelf. "You, on the other hand, are just goofing off as usual. What have you been doing about our situation?" McGonagall couldn't have been more demanding.

Ron stared. "What have I been doing?"

"That's what I asked."

He didn't know where to begin. Did he even want to tell Percy about the Hermione incident?

A delaying moment of panic–it was too late. Percy leaned forward, books forgotten. "Ron. . . what did you do?"

"Nothing." Did his voice really squeak?

"You're lying."

"I am not."

"You're hardly a good liar." A slow smile began. "Did you go visible? Did someone see you?"

He had a sudden urge to run. Or whatever he was allowed to do as a ghost. Fifty feet was a fair distance, especially in the labyrinth of the library. And yet at closer range were the books, the ghostly ones, lying about like a weapon fair. . . all he had to do was grab one. He flung himself upon a particularly heavy looking copy and jumped back.

It was now Percy's turn to stare. "Are you going to throw that at me?"

Ron pulled back his arm, the book trembling and ready to crush something.

"You can't be serious." His smile deepened. Hardly a very Percy expression. More like Fred and George. "Someone really did see you!"

Somewhere, in the back corner of Ron's brain, a tiny voice shrieked all claims of stupidity at him, to just put the book down, that it wasn't at all threatening. But then, he had always wanted to throw a book at someone, for whatever random reason. He preferred that thought. "I don't have to tell you anything."

"You just admitted it."

"I did not."

"You're being quite obvious." Percy shook his head and picked up his own book. "Fine. Throw your book,. But I can tell you that this one is heavier."


"If I throw mine, you'll drop yours."

"Why don't you just tell me who saw you?"

Ron could feel the leather of the spine. Amazing how that continued with the book's death. "I've actual Quidditch experience!"

The smile vanished from Percy's face. He stared unblinkingly at Ron, his own book ready to throw. Ron stared back, imagining the book just a quaffle in his hands. Or perhaps a bludger. Yes, it was definitely a bludger.

Then, with an impatient sigh, Percy tossed his book back on the shelf. "Do you have any idea how pointless this is? What are they going to do to us?"

Ron didn't care. He released the book. It missed Percy's head by a good three feet and sailed through the library wall.

Percy watched it go with mild interest, then turned to Ron, grin back. "Quidditch experience, you claimed?"

Ron slunk back into a shelf, burning. "You moved."

"I've been here the entire time. So who saw you? Was it Harry?" His voice peaked with the name. "Hermione? Some little first-year Muggle-born who has never seen a ghost?"

There was no point in avoiding it. Never really had been, for that matter. She was probably still back there. Upset. He hadn't meant to upset her. "It was Hermione."

He expected another derisive laugh, but Percy said nothing, only went to picking up the mess of books. Had Percy even heard?

"Well?"

"Well, what?" Percy set a stack of three on the shelf, their smoke-colored spines blending almost invisible into the grey-toned wood. "I"d thought you'd appear to either her or Harry first."

"But you told me not to appear to anyone."

"Yes, but I knew you would listen. Do you regret it now?"

"Not listening to you?" Ron stared at the shelves, almost seeing Hermione sitting beyond them. "I think she thinks she's insane."

Percy set to arranging the three books against the others. Ron wondered if Madame Pince had some way of knowing about this ghostly section of her library. "If you saw someone who just died, you'd probably think you were crazy as well. There's a reason I warned you about this–people only like the idea of ghosts of people they care about, some semblance of existence beyond the grave. It's rather pathetic, really."

"What about Nearly Headless Nick and that lot?"

"They are school ghosts who've been dead for years that like to haunt. They don't count. Besides, how many of them do you actually like?"

He had a point. "But Hermione didn't scream or anything like that."

Percy picked up another book and frowned at the cover. "Are you sure she saw you, then?"

If Ron thought about it, he might eventually make himself doubt so. He had been eager, far too eager, to see her, but. . . no. She had looked right at him, had said his name. "I think I surprised her more than anything." As if that were any better. "Bloody hell, I know she saw me." And then before he knew what he was asking, he said "So who saw you?"

The book dropped from Percy's hands. "What?"


Of course. Despite what he might think, Percy wasn't so perfect as to depend forever on whatever rules he had made up. He had to have made the same dumb mistake. And the results might be even worse. Hermione's situation might be nothing. What stroke of intelligence had brought that realization about? "You wouldn't be warning me unless you knew there would be a problem."

Percy's mouth fell open in a brief moment of something before he bothered with a defense. "Anyone with any sense would know–"

"Someone saw you. I told you. So you have to tell me. Was it your murderer?"

"Murderer?" he echoed, bewildered.

"Or maybe that girl you used to snog." This was getting fun; no wonder Percy had so seemed to enjoy the other interrogation. "What was her name?"

"Penelope." Percy's hand slipped to the knot at his wrist, and he gave the ends such a yank the rope might as well have cut through him. "Her name was Penelope, and yes, she saw me."

He wasn't supposed to have responded so quickly. The cutting abruptness only ruined the moment, and for a moment Ron was at a loss for words. Yet he had to say something. "You scared your ex-girlfriend?"

With a sigh Percy let the rope ends fall limply, and he forced a smile. "I also appeared to Cornelius Fudge. That wasn't quite as bad."

"You returned from the dead to kiss up to the Minister?" Somehow Ron wasn't surprised.

Percy gave a dry laugh. "Actually, I wouldn't put it that way, quite."

To think of Percy doing anything but. . . that was impossible. "Then what did you do to him?"

He shrugged.

"You haunted Fudge?"

"I didn't haunt anyone. Haunting is. . . more of a long term thing." He made it sound like a text book.

Ron stared at him, searching for a sign that it was all some sort of weird Percy attempt at a joke. So there had been the cremation thing. . . he suddenly didn't know what to think. "So what happened?"

Percy shrugged again, twisting from Ron's gaze. "It's kind of a long story."

"Fudge is a complete git! I'll hear it!"

"I thought we were talking about you and Hermione Granger."

"My, my. Only a few days and you're actually talking." Nearly Headless Nick slid through the near wall, Ron's thrown book in hand and his normally jovial aura back as if the other night had never happened. "I must say I'm impressed. Perhaps the Bloody Baron was correct in his thinking." He stopped at the mess of books, then "Looking for something?"

Percy's frown returned. "We were looking for information about the council you mentioned, Sir Nicholas."

"The one you don't know anything about," Ron muttered under his breath.

Nick actually flashed a smile at Ron. "I don't know much either. I've never been, I'm afraid. And I'm sorry to say that I don't think anyone has actually written anything about it."

Percy swore as Ron laughed. "You moron."


"You're better off just looking for the representative in this world," Nick said, placing the book carefully on the shelf. "Or maybe going to the spirit world yourself. But I do want to inform you that you shouldn't be throwing books around like it were all a Quidditch game, especially since a certain someone is headed this way."

He had barely spoken when a distant chanting pierced the air:

"Oh, history is such a bore.

Students can't take it anymore.

They want to stuff you in a drawer–"

"Peeves." Nick knocked the remainder of the books off the shelf. "And apparently him as well. So there's no point to chiding anyone about the mess. I humbly apologize. Good luck." With a shake of his head, he disappeared back through the wall.

"Maybe we should leave," Percy said.

An entire row of books crashed suddenly from a nearby shelf, and Peeves voice rang out:

"They'll shred their notes and burn their text,

And want to send it all to heck!"

A different voice fell in with the lines of the song, laughing. There was something oddly familiar about it, though Ron was sure he had never heard anything like it. He looked to Percy for an explanation.

Percy groaned. "We really should leave now. I'm not in the mood for any of Binnichan's great remarks."

"Binnichan? Jillie mentioned him."

"Because she actually likes him–"

A second row of books plummeted from their shelf, and Peeves appeared, still singing his nonsense song, which ended abruptly. "New ghostie! And you're actually studying! Binnichan will be so pleased."

"I'm not studying," Ron began.

"Professor!" Peeves shouted. "It's a miracle!"

Another ghost popped through the shelf, in a manner disturbingly similar to what Ron had seen day after miserable day, year after year. Yet it couldn't be.

"Professor Binns?" he asked.

But it couldn't be Professor Binns, not the dreadfully boring professor of History of Magic with his insufferable droning and classes. But there he was, humming absent-mindedly Peeves' tune, looking more alive than any ghost should look. " Oh, Mr. Weasley," he said brightly. "And. .. Mr. Weasley! So sorry to hear about your death, but hey, it happens!"

"I. . ." The world had just gone mad. Professor Binns had just tried to chat with him! "I. . . thanks, I guess."

Professor Binns laughed and shook his head. "At least you were murdered, which is always an exciting death. You can tell stories about that sort of death. More interesting stories about falling asleep in front of a fire, even though. . . "

"You had the life force sucked from you by a rival wizard," Percy recited, unimpressed. "I know."

A smirk crossed Binns' face. "Good to hear you getting it. But still, the Dark Lord makes for a better death."

"And it shall be immortal," Peeves said solemnly. "Oh, Ronnikins, he died, and now he's petrified. . . "

"Of course, that song could be applied to any death. And by the way, Mr. Weasley, the dead have the privilege of calling me Binnichan."


"Binnichan." The world truly was mad.

Binnichan nodded. "Yes, it has such a good ring to it. Just don't tell any of the living, including that old bat Dumbledore. Even though he was easily the most interesting teacher here, he already stopped paying me years ago. Now. . what have you done with the books? I have lesson plans to prepare and this is sadly the only source I can use. . ." He frowned at Ron, who pointed at Percy.

Binnichan sighed. "You, Mr. Weasley, I'd never thought you'd do anything like that. What about my lesson?"

Percy kicked at a book. "Professor–"

"How many times must I insist you call me Binnichan?"

"Professor, you merely copy footnotes and read them aloud!"

Binnichan let out a deep laugh. "One of my more brilliant schemes. The living are so boring already they deserve it."

"You made class boring on purpose?" Ron asked, and Binnichan laughed again.

"I enjoy boring students. It's fun. It's hysterical to watch them suffer under the dead boring Professor Binns. But among the dead I can be Binnichan."

"For crying out loud, you're not even Japanese!" Percy scooped up an armload of books and shoved them onto the shelf. "Sorry about your books, Professor."

"Don't brown-nose me, you can do that at the Ministry."

Did a teacher just insult Percy? Ron waited for a reaction.

Peeves clucked his tongue. "If Percy gets mad, he might never get away."

Percy froze as he turned to leave, his back to the others. Ron could tell he was trying very hard to keep his temper. Binnichan seemed to notice this and took it as an even bigger joke.

"I think you upset him, upset him!' Peeves sang.

"Oh, go choke on broccoli."

Everyone stared at him in amazement, including Peeves, whose song ended, forgotten.

"Choke on broccoli?" Ron echoed jeeringly. "What kind of come back is that supposed to be?"

Percy groaned and shook his head. "I'm out of here."

"To the Ministry?" Binnichan asked.

He made an impolite gesture, which Peeves readily flung back. Then he vaporated and Ron only caught the first few strands of Peeves' new song before he was jerked to the familiar brightness of the Hogwarts' grounds. The hoops of the Quidditch field towered nearby, various players trading shouts as they practiced. Opposite them stretched the woods.

"I haven't been outside for awhile," Percy said, a forced attempt at conversation agaisnt all that happened in the library.

Ron would have preferred to ignore him. The Quidditch field was so close with its refreshing familiarity of broomsticks and quaffles and losing Slytherins–-perhaps it wasn't too late for Percy to be hit with a bludger after all.

Percy didn't take the hint. "What do you think Peeves meant?"

A well-placed bludger knocked someone else from their broom. "Huh?"

Percy grabbed Ron's shoulder and sun him away from the field. "Peeves. He said if I got mad, I won't get away. What did he mean?"

Ron pulled away. "It's Peeves. He's a nutcase anyway. I don't know why it's such a big deal. He mas making fun of you. Which you deserve, by the way."


"Don't tell me you're going to become one of Binnichan's irritating devoted followers."

Ron considered it. Binnichan was even worse than Professor Binns, despite his insult of Percy. "No, he's a nutcase, too."

"Thanks for agreeing with me."

"I'm not agreeing with you. You're even crazier. Trying to make sense out of Peeves."

"Well, he's never said anything like that." But he backed off, still frowning.

A flock of birds erupted from the woods in a flurry of black feathers.

Percy gave a mild laugh. "That's always fun to watch. They probably ran into a thestral and didn't know what to think."

The thestral. The memory came floating back, the flesh beneath Ron's hand, and he grimaced. "Thestrals?"

"Thestrals. You know, the horses in the woods. They actually pull the school carriages." Percy slid comfortably into an educational ramble. "They're really quite fascinating. You can only see them if–"

"If you've seen someone get the axe," Ron finished. "I know. Sometimes I do bother to pay attention in class, Percy."

"I didn't say you didn't. I was just saying."

"Yeah, well, sometimes you say too much."

Percy rolled his eyes, unruffled. "Well, what do you think of them?"

"They're hideous. Snake horses." The words were out before he could catch himself.

"So you've actually seem them?"

"I. . ." Ron stared at the woods, expecting one to walk right out and bite him. "Let's not go through this again."

Percy nodded thoughtfully, also gazing into the trees. "The reason you can see them is because they're one of the few creatures that exist between the worlds. They're just as much ghost as they are alive."

"Believe me, that's fascinating, but–"

"Are you aware you could touch them, as you are right now?"

Ron closed his eyes, sighing. In relief? "Yes," he said stiffly. "I was aware."

She was insane. She was absolutely beyond all reasonable doubt insane. If she had any logical thought left, she would return to her book and attempt to make some sense of the idiotic jumble of words. . . but the air was still there before her, empty.

"Ron," Hermione murmured again. She bit her lip and brushed curls from her eyes. She couldn't start crying again, she was already so dry. "If I'm not crazy, don't let me be thinking this."

But there was nothing.

And what did she expect? For Ron, for that psychotic vision, to return? If she had really seen anything, it had only been for that brief moment. Most likely it had been her and whatever her brain was doing her. But she didn't care.

"The dead never truly leave us," she heard herself whisper. What was that? A quote she had heard somewhere. Most likely made up herself. But Ron.. . he wouldn't be the type to just. . . hang around. Would he?

She missed him so much. The funeral, that had been nice. No, it hadn't. It had been Ron in that coffin being lowered into that hole in the ground where she could never see him again, and there was nothing nice about that. It had been Ron's family standing around with broken hearts and her. . . She shut her eyes as the tears burned their ways out. And none of them would see him again. Not in this life. Maybe that was it. Maybe she had just wanted to see him again so badly. . . didn't stress do that? Her father would have a book on it, no doubt.

When she opened her eyes, the air was still there before her, empty save for the endless shelves of dusty books. He wasn't there. He never had been. Ron haunting her. . . she shoved the thought away. It was too painful. She hadn't expected him to be back, anyway.

Just don't think about it, she told herself. Just don't think about it.

The nonsense words on the pages blurred before her eyes like water had been thrown on them.

Why had he looked so surprised?

SHOUT OUTS TO THE COOLEST PEOPLE AROUND!

Midnight Dove: No, it wasn't the big S, but that is a good guess. I'm quite flattered you sat through the entire reading! Thanks!

cry missing: I'm actually considering just taking the humor genre off, because I never did plan on making it downright comedy. blush But there will be occasional humor. Any advice?

HiddenFlame42: What do you think of Hermione seeing him now?

duj: Hey, it's up to Percy to announce his death. hides

Amelia Glitter: I don't think I'd mind being chained to him, either.

Icy Dragon Claws: The reason I'm not saying is because you're downright entertaining, banging your head on the monitor. Though I am dropping occasional clues. . .

Hydrangea777: Thanks! Don't worry, there will be more than a "second" eventually.

pIPPENpIRATE: Go Vanilla Coke! And go update Treasure Planet story!

Crystal Lightening: er… that cookie is mighty tempting! I might give in eventually!

Elski: Well, you reviewed there! =) I'm loving your story, by the way.

MerlinHalliwell: Thanks!

v-babe24: Ooh! I need to e-mail you about Dream! Or at least include it in an e-mail.

Written in Stars: The lack of Ron ruined that wedding, you realize.

liseli: gah! Pool toys! Scary!

meenyrocks: Ron shouldn't let Hermione be seeing him because it is rather traumatizing for both of them. I kinda liked PoA. Different, but good.

LJ Fan: Oh my goodness. There is a long, long story behind the cremation and why I put it in there. Glad you believed it. Did you panic?

Hi I'm Crazy: Isn't it great? She can see him! Yay!