The first time Draco visited with Moaning Myrtle, it was when he was alone and it had been an accident. It was over the Christmas holiday and he had gotten distracted working on the vanishing cabinet, causing him to return to his dorm far too late, which meant the few teachers who had remained behind at Hogwarts were already on patrol. He had stumbled into the second-floor girls' bathroom while avoiding one such patrol.
Draco had sighed, leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes to wait.
"Why are you sad?" a voice asked him. His eyes popped open to see the girl's ghost floating shyly behind a stall door.
"I'm tired," he corrected her.
"You look sad to me."
Draco was sad. And lonely.
"I—" He looked at the wall, unsure why he was even talking to her. "I miss my family."
The ghost came closer. "Why didn't you go home then?"
"I can't go home."
"Why not?"
Draco glared at her. "I just can't," he spat and then walked out.
-o-
The biggest frustration of classes resuming was the simple fact that Dumbledore was still alive, which meant that Slughorn had failed to give the poisoned mead to the headmaster, he had given it to Dumbledore but the headmaster had not uncorked it, or he had uncorked it but somehow survived imbibing it. With no way to be sure which scenario had transpired, all Draco could do was wait and see.
Draco stomped across the schoolyard from the Owlery, having sent his letter to Borgin for further instructions. The alchemical repairs to the vanishing cabinet had been completed and the tests to ensure they were done properly had been run and passed. Yet the cabinet still wasn't working. Why wasn't it working? What more could he possibly have to do to fix the bloody thing?
Borgin was intelligent, but he was repairing from a distance. It was slow-going and guesswork. Perhaps it was time for Draco to do some research and look for his own solution…
As he headed up to the library, a familiar voice caught his attention. Locke Hayden. He stilled, immediately scanning the courtyard for who she was with, but it wasn't Amaris, just some other Hufflepuff girl chatting happily as they crossed the open area, heading inside. Disappointment dogged him.
Aside from the incident with the apricot scones, Draco had seen very little of Amaris. They did not sit together in class—not by choice, at least not on his part—and each class's workload had become so intensive that there was little time for socializing. He told himself that it was for the best in the long run, but he already missed their little chats in the south tower.
Draco followed the girls' path across the courtyard but went the opposite direction toward the library. He wondered what Amaris thought about the distance between them. Did she miss him? Did she think of him at all?
She had to think about him at least a little. Many of the other students had been whispering about the mysterious necklace he had given her, wondering if they were really matched. Pansy had asked him about it the second day back from the holiday and he had denied it, of course. He told her the truth: that the necklace was a gift from his mother returning a family heirloom. And Draco knew that Amaris would tell Hayden and Ballard the truth, too. But the rumor continued to spread, just as he had intended it to.
There was one person who hadn't asked him about it: Goyle. Whether that was because he didn't want to know the truth or was afraid of Draco was anyone's guess, but he was doing his best to hide the fact that he had met with her. The first night back from the break, Draco had run into Crabbe and Goyle in the Slytherin common room.
"Have a nice holiday?" Draco immediately asked Goyle. The bigger man's eyes rounded like he had been caught.
"Fine," Goyle replied with a shrug, looking away.
"Do anything interesting?"
"N-no."
Draco fished an apricot scone out of the basket and took a bite. Then, with a grin, he said, "Too bad."
Goyle just nodded, refusing to meet his eyes.
The memory made the familiar path toward the library seem shorter than it was so that when Draco arrived, he was surprised to find himself already there. Dismissing thoughts of Amaris and Goyle, he took in the myriad shelves and inhaled deeply. Finding what he was looking for might take more time than waiting for Borgin to respond, but at least he would be doing something.
Draco immediately made his way to the magical artifacts section where he might be able to find more information on the vanishing cabinets or something similar to them. Once he had selected a few titles, he moved toward the back of the library toward a more private nook. He dropped into a chair, stacked the books to his right, and slipped one off the top. Planting his elbow on the table and his chin in his palm, he flipped the book open and began reading. Within the first few paragraphs, he could tell it would be a tedious struggle to make it through that particular title.
Suddenly someone plopped down in the chair on his left. He glanced up and found Amaris setting out a roll of parchment, a quill and ink jar, and several books. He straightened in surprise, unsure how to react. When she met his gaze, she just smiled and then went to work on her essay.
Draco swallowed, watching, waiting, but she didn't say anything, didn't look his way again. She clearly had no intention to disturb him, so why was she there? The library had been rather empty when he walked in. Surely there were plenty of tables she could have all to herself.
Of course there were, but that wasn't the point and he knew it. She had sought him out, had purposefully sat with him. Perhaps she had had enough of the distance between them and this was her solution… She did it with such ease, as though it were completely normal to do so. They had never sat together like this, not outside of a classroom. Like they were friends, or more.
Draco looked around nervously. He had never felt so exposed, and yet he couldn't bring himself to move or demand she find her own table. His eyes dropped back down to his book. It took him several minutes to focus on the words he was reading with her sitting beside him, blond hair visible in his peripherals, quill scratching across parchment just a foot away from him…but Draco found he liked the sound of it.
-o-
The second time Draco visited with Moaning Myrtle, it was when he felt alone and it had been intentional. It was Valentine's Day and he had been walking aimlessly, avoiding others, when he saw the bathroom door and decided to go in just for a bit of quiet.
"You're back," the ghost said in that quiet, raspy voice of hers. He looked across the room to see her floating toward him, a flirty smile on her face. "What brings you up here to see little, old me?"
Draco wasn't actually there to see her, but rumor had it that Moaning Myrtle was incredibly emotional and he didn't want to draw attention to himself by upsetting her.
"I came in to get away," he explained.
"On Valentine's Day?" she cooed.
"I hate Valentine's Day," he said, and it was true.
"Why?" Her eyes lit up with delight. "Were you rejected?"
"No," he scoffed.
Why did he hate Valentine's Day? Because it was a stupid and fake holiday. When he was younger, he had enjoyed the attention heaped onto him by the girls, but a few years ago, that had changed. He had noticed his father never celebrated Valentine's Day and so he asked him why he neglected his mother on such an occasion. His father had scoffed and told him that he had never neglected her once in their entire marriage, that he celebrated her all year long, as a wizard should with his witch. Waiting for one day to make your witch feel special? His father had looked so disgusted. That's just an excuse of lesser wizards…
Draco found himself explaining that to Myrtle, recounting his father's wisdom. He wasn't sure why, but the words just poured out of him. It felt good to talk about his father in a positive light, about the good father and husband he was, not just Lucius Malfoy, the Death Eater.
Myrtle sighed wistfully. "And do you treat your witch this way?"
"I don't have a witch," he told her, and then added, "She wouldn't have me anyway."
"Why not?"
"Because of what I did."
"What did you do?"
"What I had to do," he said tightly, "to protect my family."
Myrtle drifted closer, her eyes softening. "Do you still miss them?"
"Of course, I do. Don't you?"
She shrugged. "All my family are dead."
Draco's jaw clenched so hard that his teeth hurt.
-o-
Every day, Draco waited impatiently for news from Borgin and, when it did not come, he went to the library to continue his research. He started in the magical artifacts section and worked his way toward reparations. He had not found anything on vanishing cabinets, which he hadn't expected to given their rarity, but he had found a few tidbits on the construction of other magical objects, though all touted said maker a specialist in the field. Concerning reparations, everything he'd found was either theoretical or anecdotal, neither of which was enormously helpful.
Draco sighed into the pages of yet another dry and uninformative book. With his elbow propped on the table, he pushed his fingers into his hair and held them there, letting his forehead rest against his palm as he scanned the text. Two days out of the week, Amaris would join him in the library. Sometimes she would work on her assignments, other times she would just read. They didn't talk. They rarely made eye contact. But he looked forward to those days all the same. The other three days were a slog… And it happened to be one such day.
Draco heaved another sigh.
A giggle erupted nearby his quiet little corner of the library but Draco ignored it. Until it came again. And again, getting closer every time. Then he heard the tell-tale smacking of two people snogging and rolled his eyes. He glared at the gap between shelves as the two bumbling idiots drew closer, headed straight for his alcove.
Theo came into view with his hands halfway up some Ravenclaw girl's blouse and his face sloppily attached to hers. Draco dropped his hand that was in his hair against the table, creating a loud thump that had the two of them jumping apart.
"Draco!" Theo exclaimed, a grin cracking on his face even with a shimmery pink lip gloss smeared across his chin. "I didn't realize the corner was occupied. S'cuse us." He glanced at his companion, who was ducking her head so that her dark hair fell around her face in hopes of hiding her identity. "Oh, don't be shy, Anise," Theo told her enthusiastically. "Well, go on. Say hello to my best mate."
"Theo!" she complained, voice high-pitched with embarrassment. She immediately turned and fled.
"See you later, then," Theo called after her. He turned back to Draco and wiped his mouth off on his sleeve, but there was still glittery residue sparkling on his chin. "What are you up to, eh?" he asked, plopping down in the chair across from Draco.
"Research," he answered just as Theo reached for one of the books stacked nearby.
"Oh yeah? On what?" He skimmed the cover of the book he'd picked up, squinting at it like it was a foreign language. "The [Complete] Known History of the Fourteen Enchanted Nightstands." His brows shot up. "Thirty-ninth edition. That's more editions than there are enchanted nightstands. The hell is all this for?"
"Because I felt like it," Draco sneered. "Why? You want to help?"
Theo dropped the book back on the table. "Not if I don't have to."
"Then leave me alone."
"All right, all right." Theo took a deep breath, twisting his head on his neck. Draco heard two pops. He thought that would be the end of it, but then the wizard leaned back in his chair, put his feet up on the table, and folded his hands behind his head. "So…"
Draco's jaw tensed. "So?"
"We haven't talked much since classes started up again. How was your holiday, mate? You do anything fun?" His eyebrows waggled. "Did Grey wear another sexy little number?"
Draco instantly thought about that 5th year Christmas and her red dress. It felt like so long ago, when everything was simple… He wished he could go back to that day, to the time they spent in his mother's garden. He would have kissed her.
"My mother didn't host anything," Draco muttered, "and you know why."
"Doesn't mean you didn't see her. Rumor has it you two are still matched."
"We're not matched."
"Right…" he drawled, feigning forgetfulness. "So, she didn't wear—"
"I didn't see Amaris," he snapped. Theo's eyes widened and it took Draco all of three seconds to realize why. He had called her by her name. Amaris. When had he started thinking of her that way? The first day back? The holiday? Maybe before… He couldn't remember.
Theo smirked. "It's all right that you like her—"
"I don't like her."
"C'mon, mate. She's Pureblood. She's beautiful. She's docile," he said, then muttered out the side of his mouth, "Except when she's not." He pretended to shiver. "You think she takes that act into the bedroom? That's some whiplash I could get behind."
In not one of his sexual fantasies had Draco ever imagined Amaris wearing her Slytherin-like armor, and now he couldn't help but think about it even though his friend was sitting right there. The very idea of battling that icy demeaner until she submitted to him created a potent desire he couldn't afford to feel in that moment. So instead, Draco glared.
"What?" Theo asked. "All I'm saying is, I get it. Why you like her."
"I don't like her."
Theo sighed dramatically, tilting his face up toward the ceiling. "So, what is it then? If your heart's not throbbing, it must be your cock. You shagging her or something?"
Draco snapped his book closed and sneered, "There's nothing between us."
"Maybe to you," Theo muttered, absentmindedly picking lint off his sweater, "but she's another story."
"What are you talking about?"
"Well, it's obvious she likes you," he replied. When Draco frowned, Theo continued, "I mean, she'd have to, what with the way you treat her and all, and she still puts up with you? You know I hate using the L-word, but there it is."
A cold expression stole over Draco's face. This was like the time with his mother all over again. She likes you, you know… Deep down inside, he knew it wasn't true, and yet his heart had thudded for a moment because he wanted it to be, wanted it as a reflex, completely without thought.
Surprise leapt onto Theo's face and his feet dropped off the table as he sat up. "Draco," he said seriously, brow furrowing. "You all right? What happened?"
"I'm fine," Draco said flatly.
Theo exhaled sharply and shook his head. "You need new material, mate," he muttered bitterly. "Look, whatever it is you're into…" He hesitated, running his tongue over his teeth as he mulled over his next words. "There are people," he began carefully, "who can help you. Who will help you."
"I don't need help," Draco told him.
Theo's mouth tightened in a grimace and he nodded, dropped his hand onto the table with a loud smack, and pushed himself to his feet. Draco watched him walk away.
-o-
The third time Draco visited with Moaning Myrtle, he hadn't intended to see her at all. He had rushed into the boy's bathroom in a panic. Word had spread quickly when Ron Weasley had been sent to the hospital wing after drinking poisoned mead with Professor Slughorn.
Draco had failed.
Failed.
The word pounded his brain like a drum. He rushed through the room, checking the stalls to make sure they were empty, and then threw himself against the wall, gasping for air. He couldn't breathe. He had failed. Again. He was going to die. His parents were going to be killed. Because he was a failure. Because he couldn't kill one wizard!
The tears appeared before he realized what was happening.
Not just one wizard… Dumbledore. Arguably the most powerful wizard alive. It was impossible… It was always impossible. He was still just a student. How could he kill—
Draco slid down the wall, sobbing. He didn't want to kill anyone. It didn't matter if it was difficult or easy, if it was for the Dark Lord or even his parents. He didn't want to kill at all… But it was Dumbledore's life or his, his family's.
"W-what's wrong?" Myrtle asked softly. He hadn't even realized she'd appeared, but for some reason, he was not startled.
Draco didn't look up when he answered with the bitter truth. "I failed."
"Failed?" she echoed, confused. He just continued to cry, unable to stop. She eased closer. "Don't… Don't… Tell me what's wrong? I can help."
"No one can help me," he rasped.
Myrtle drifted closer.
"Please, don't cry," she shushed gently, and the unlikeliest pair sat side by side without another word between them. He sobbed as though the release would give him clarity, and she tried for all the world to comfort a person she could not touch.
Author's Note: I'm sorry this one took so long to get out. I was originally going to add a different scene but wound up moving it to the next chapter. This is a bit of a interlude to show his connection to Moaning Myrtle, his work with the vanishing cabinet, and the escalation of stress levels.
Considering Draco's personality, I think he once loved Valentine's Day because of all the attention he got. But, like most young people, his opinions are swayed by his parents' opinions. And for Draco, that is especially true concerning his father. And so, suddenly Valentine's Day is stupid!
I just wanted to thank you all so much for your kind reviews. I'm so glad you all are enjoying the story!
