A/N: I would once again like to thank all the lovely people who have reviewed my story! You all make me so happy!
I know these chapters are quite short, but I'm hoping you will all forgive me because I'm updating quite fast. I would have written more, but it just seemed like the right place to end this chapter.
Disclaimer: Still not mine (unless J.K. Rowling is willing to hand me the rights to Harry Potter, if so please contact me)!
On with the next chapter…
He heard what she said; in a strange way he had expected it, however that doesn't mean he believed it. He knew himself better than anyone else did, and Draco Malfoy knew there was no way he was possible of murder. He was sure of it. Well… almost sure.
He shook his head, not accepting what he had been told, "no… I wouldn't," he insisted.
"Are you sure about that?" the ghost girl whispered, "look at me Malfoy… look what I've become. You did this to me".
"NO!" he shouted banging his fist against the wall, "I'm not like that… I wouldn't!" he turned away from her, not able to look her in the eye, "I wouldn't," he repeated in a whisper.
"Are you sure it was…" he began, turning around to face the ghost of Hermione Granger, however his eyes were only greeted by an empty room. His shoulders sagged as he tried to make sense of things.
He never got on with her, every little annoying habit of hers drove him up the wall… the way she knew everything, the way she spoke so perfectly, the way she would bite her lip when she didn't know what to say. He thought it was some sort of nightmare when McGonagall had told him head boy and girl share a common room. However despite all that, he didn't hate her. Not really. He always considered their relationship… if you could call it that… a mutual understanding and sharing of dislike. Would he ever murder for dislike? Would he ever murder?
He supposed these questions would be answered as time went by, for now however he would have to do the one thing he could… try and get closer to Hermione Granger. If what the ghost had told him were true, he would have to do everything within his power to change the future. If Hermione trusted him enough, he could warn her… warn her of her murder… warn her of him.
His father once told him that for history to remember your name, you have to do whatever is necessary to gain power. Trust no one, and eliminate all those who stand in your way. What would his father say now if he knew he was fighting to keep his enemy alive?
The boy shook his head, squeezing out these thoughts and instead slowly trekked up to his room and stood by the window, looking up at the night sky, letting its beauty momentarily sooth his mind.
"It's beautiful isn't it?" came a voice from behind him; he turned around to face the ghost girl, listening while she spoke, a sad expression fixated on her face, "I can't feel the night breeze any more," she whispered, "I don't feel warmth, I can't feel your skin against my fingers," she said, stretching out a ghostly hand and gently touching his cheek, "I don't want to spend eternity like this". For a moment she was silent whilst she gazed up at the night sky, "I'm scared Draco… scared of death… scared of staying like this forever… scared of you".
"I'm not a murderer," he insisted.
"No you're not," she agreed, "not yet".
"Not ever," he whispered, more to himself than to the girl.
The ghost thought silently for a moment, not wanting to reveal too much, however finally she said in a small voice, "there are some things in this world which are beyond our control".
"This is not one of them things!" he shouted angrily.
The ghost form of Hermione smiled, "let us hope so".
"Definitely," he nodded, "I'll go crazy if I end up with your ghost floating around after me for the rest of my life".
For the first time the ghost smiled, "you're not as bad as I thought," she said before slowly fading into the background, leaving the boy once again alone with his thoughts.
And what dark thoughts they were, thoughts of death and destiny.
Since a young age Draco believe every man and every woman control their own destiny, and he'd be damned if he was proved wrong. He would make things right… either that or die trying.
Why was it that he alone could see the ghost of Hermione Granger where all others could not? Why is it that in the future he was destined to become the person he most feared turning into… a murderer. And why had he been given another chance to stop what seemed to be the inevitable?
Such things confused him. It was as though the Gods were playing with them… toying with their lives.
In a dimly lit cottage, far away from Hogwarts School, three men sat around a table talking in hushed voices.
"It is time," hissed the Dark Lord.
Lucius Malfoy nodded hesitantly, "yes my Lord," he muttered quietly, his usually powerful persona fast vanishing in the presence of the most feared man in wizarding history.
"You will bring him to me on the night of his 18th birthday… he will have to perform a sacrifice to prove his loyalty," Voldemort commanded.
"But my Lord… his birthday is less than three weeks away!" reminded Lucius Malfoy.
"Are you saying he is not ready?" asked the other death eater with a smirk, as though challenging the blonde man.
After a brief pause Lucius muttered, "I assure you both, Draco will do as I say, he will be a faithful follower my Lord, just as I have been".
"Let us hope you are right," snarled the Dark Lord, "you know the consequences otherwise," he said stroking his wand threateningly.
"The boy is ready my Lord," insisted Lucius, "have you chosen the sacrifice?"
"Let's just say I have someone in mind," the Dark Lord nodded.
As Hermione Granger walked down the deserted corridor on the way back from the prefects meeting, an uneasy feeling gripped the pit of her stomach, as though she were being watched. She quickened her pace, suddenly aware of all the dark shadows. She felt as though an eerie presence was lingering close by, something, which did not belong within the walls of Hogwarts.
The ghost girl watched her from afar, remembering back to when it was her walking in those steps. History was repeating itself and unless she did something about it, she would be a mere spectator of her own death... for a second time.She knew it was all down to Malfoy now… it was down to him to change both their destinies.
If she could re live her last day, knowing she would never again speak to all those she loved, she would stop and tell them just how much they changed her life. She would write to her mother one last time, she would tell her not to cry for they would see each other again when the time was right. She would tell Harry and Ron how much she loved them and she would hug Ginny, and tell her to be brave.
She had taken life for granted, assumed she had years to live, if she were just given another chance she would stop and take in every moment, the feel of the grass beneath her feet, the warmth of the sun against her skin, the touch of her fingers against the pages of a book. It was the little things she missed the most.
All she could do now was pray that Draco succeeds in changing fate. His fate. Her fate.