"You lied to him!" The ghost cried out.

"Only partially - it will help him heal, and it requires that he sleep for that." Severus stabilized the man against the wall with one hand, with his other he checked his pulse.

"Him throwing up...is that common?" Potter asked quietly.

"No, it's a bit disconcerting," Severus cleaned up the sickness and then looked at the ghost. "Are you certain he's only had blood replenishers? When was the last time he took the other potion?"

The ghost's cheeks puffed. "I am certain they were blood replenishers. He hasn't had any since you were last here."

"Obviously you have not been paying close enough attention." Severus glared, before casting a spell to levitate Draco.

"He only needs them when people come over." The ghost tried to explain.

"The way he was drinking them earlier, it suggested he was addicted," Potter corrected her, "I'm sure if he told you differently than it was his own way to hide that. I've seen a lot of cases like this Mione, on the job. Perhaps when you were distracted with reading up on the manor he slipped-"

"I watched! I am not a fool. He hasn't had the potion, he hasn't in the days I have been watching him. He told me the recipe; I know exactly what it's used for."

But Severus sent her a glare and turned his gaze to the ghost. "He told you the recipe."

The girl nodded.

"Would you be able to repeat it to me?"

The girl gave another nod.

"Would you kindly relay the recipe, Ms. Granger?" Severus requested, fingers once again monitoring Draco's pulse.

The ghost moved from side to side. "Yes and no." Before Severus could reply sharply, she quickly asserted, "Only if you do something for me first."

Severus raised a brow.

The ghost then pointed towards the willow. "Do you see red flowers?"

All of them looked.

"No, do you see red flowers?" Severus looked back at the ghost.

She bit her lip. Her gaze glanced around the room with nervousness. "No, not anymore." And then a strangled whisper, "I don't see her either. But-"

"Who?" Severus asked.

Her eyes went to her hands and for a moment she looked to be grabbing something and then stopped, she shook her head as if to dislodge a thought.

"Ms. Granger?" Flitwick's eyes narrowed.

She gave another shake of her head and began relaying the recipe, ignoring the curious and worried glances. They moved Draco into a nearby sitting room away from the howling, unnatural wind. The others tried questioning the ghost as Severus worked on Draco, but she wouldn't talk about the flowers or why she'd asked.

Severus applied the essence of dittany to the worst marks on Draco while he thought. Eventually he rose from beside the lying body.

"Well, how severely is he addicted?" Potter asked.

"He's not!" The ghost cried out stubbornly.

Severus spoke over the outcry. "Based on the ingredients and instructions, there would not be any addictive qualities to the potion from a theoretical standpoint. If he were addicted, he'd likely be dead by now. The potion has quite a few dangerous ingredients and long-term, constant use would likely result in illness in both psyche and mentality. I doubt any institution would permit its research." The man looked at the ghost. "Did he explicitly tell you what he was taking it for?"

"He said he'd tell me if I was right. And I was right." As she opened her mouth to relay what she'd learned, Severus cut her off.

"A Slytherin, when not wanting to tell the truth - lets others make their own assumptions and then confirms that person's bias. Unless he explicitly told you exactly what he was taking it for, I doubt it is the full truth. Even if he had told you, I'm afraid I'd be doubtful of the truthfulness of that as well."

The girl's cheeks puffed in anger. She flew several inches in the air, just to get nose to nose to the man. "I'm not an idiot, I realized exactly what he was doing. I realized he would only tell me what he felt necessary for me to know, something close enough to the truth to get me to stop questioning him."

"And?"

She flew away, her temper causing her hair to move wildly, and she hovered near the feet of the sleeping man. "Why don't you tell me what you've figured out and I'll let you know if you are right or not."

Severus' eyes narrowed considerably. "The potion has multiple side effects. In order of effect. The first, loss of nerve reactivity. Second, a form of antidepressant. The actual antidepressant lasts longer than the initial laugh factor we witnessed the other night and is quite potent even though we saw it as subtle. The third, reduction in heart rate. Fourth, a lesser calming drop. Fifth, a decrease in magical ability."

"And?" The ghost crossed her arms.

"That is what the potion does, Ms. Granger. It can't do anything more, unless there are more or less ingredients, or the directions differ from what you have told me."

"I mean, why is he taking it?" The ghost moved in the air as if pacing. "Obviously, that is what the potion does."

"He's using it as an antidepressant."

"Wrong!" She rose in the air, hands on her hips. "Surely he can make a better antidepressant."

Severus glared up at the ghost. "It's a non-addictive antidepressant, probably the only one I have ever encountered. However, the other side-effects make it unusable to the rest of the magical population – no one else would dare take it. Draco believes he is smart, Ms. Granger. He wouldn't allow himself to become addicted to any substance, nor would he allow his appearance to fail in any public situation."

"You consider five people to be a public situation. Think, Professor."

The man's nose flared in anger.

"Panic attacks." She answered for the man. "He is treating himself for panic attacks. Dizziness, shortness of breath, fainting and vomiting. Minus a calming drop, the magical world does not have a potion for it. And you are right, he wouldn't let himself become addicted."

"The other properties suggest -"

"That he is treating himself for more than just panic attacks. After all, it's better to stop them before they even occur. Which leads to the only unanticipated consequence of decreased magical ability. Except, I'm not certain it is unanticipated either. Panic attacks could result in wild magic, and he said he usually only takes it when his goddaughter comes over - he is then attempting to make sure he is harmless."

"I'm afraid you both left out the nervous system impact," Potter said, "that seems unanticipated as well."

Before the ghost could rebuttal, Snape spoke. "No," He rubbed the side of his chin as he seemed to think deeply and then he gave a sigh. "That consequence was intended." He moved closer to Draco, and he moved his wand in several patterns, muttering multiple spells as he went. At last, he stopped and made a tching noise under his breath.

"There is no dark curse upon him," Severus said. "At least not one to my knowledge that could cause physical damage on touch." Snape began casting more spells under his breath at his confession.

"Just because you can't find it, doesn't mean it isn't there though," Flitwick said, finally speaking. He moved closer to Draco's feet and watched him breathe. "And even if there isn't a spell upon him now, even the cruciatus curse can cause permanent damage not to mention trauma… He lived in the house with V-Vold-" The professor trembled. "Well, You-Know-Who."

"Then perhaps we should send for a healer at St. Mungos." Potter turned to the fireplace and reached into his pocket for powder. "I think that Lavender would be an excellent choice, she's worked with the darkest of curses," he threw powder in and stuck his head through. Wind whirled down the chimney and Potter coughed ash and floo powder, yanking his head back out.

"These damn house elves," Severus cursed.

"No house elf, just me. There will be no sending for a mind healer. If he'd wanted one, he would have gone to one by now. And if I'm not mistaken - wasn't it reported that Ms. Brown was attacked by the werewolves during the war? Wouldn't she hold a grudge?"

The heads whipped around to the couch and the man sitting up.

"Your eyes are fully black, Malfoy!" the ghost cried in alarm.

The head turned to the ghost for a moment and then back to the living.

"You should be asleep," Severus said.

"Dead really. His magical core was at its limits, which you failed to notice. He barely has had any food today, which you failed to measure. Thus, the sedative you gave him was too powerful. I give you permission to check his core if you'd like. My words are true."

"Speaking in the third person?" Flitwick questioned; brows furled.

Severus however flicked his wand and uttered the core revealing spell. They gasped as nothing appeared but a small dot.

The face turned toward Severus. "Like I said, dead. Well, if I had not stepped in."

All moved away from the man, except for Snape, who leveled his wand at the man's head. "Who are you?"

"What am I, is the better question. I am the manor and who - well, I am pieces of any crafters that have come before and either created or altered me."

"Are you a horcrux?" Harry asked, drawing his wand as well.

"No, a horcrux is created by splitting your soul. I am created and altered by crafting magic and when the crafters' magic touches my own, I take an imprint of their soul in that space and time. To perform crafting magic, a soul must be whole. Although, to be clear, I have memories of my own. These are my walls, my domain. Anything that happens here I know and remember. That comes from what I am."

"A manor?" Harry feebly asked.

"Good, you're catching on." The man, manor, tapped on the arm rest of the couch before pointing at Potter. "You know, he really thinks you're quite stupid. Draco should give you more credit."

At the silence of confusion and astonishment, the manor continued, "Seems to me like the only reason you attempted to kill my crafter is over a ghost." The head turned to look at Hermione. "Is this really what all of this is about?"

The ghost inched backwards, her back disappearing into the wall.

"We've been attempting to move her. But -" Harry said, but stopped, grip tightening on the wall.

The manor's black eyes sought Potter's. "But?"

"You stopped it. You did, that is what Draco said," the ghost whispered for Harry.

The eyes shifted back to her and it gave a smile that made several in the room shift uneasily, "Yes, of course I stopped it."

"Why?" Her bravery returned to her then, and she flew back beside the couch. "Why would you stop me from leaving this wretched place?"

The smile grew more unnatural, more teeth showing than necessary, "Do you really wish to leave here? I'll let you go if that is what you want. Just tell me where."

The ghost floated several inches closer.

"#12 Grimmauld Place."

The head turned to Harry Potter. "Ah yes," the eyes went back to Hermione, "Yes, I'm sure you'll do just fine there."

It gave a snort. "#12 Grimmauld Place. The red-haired wife, jealous of her husband's interest in that of a dead woman. She doesn't really understand guilt and the responsibility the man feels towards you. Did you know she threw a knife at him, the second time he brought up you coming to their home? It took two years for him to persuade her."

"How did you know?" Harry flushed, seeing the look on Hermione's face, "Ginny doesn't feel that way, Hermione. I just hadn't explained it right."

"I can take the memories from the walls. And dear Ginny, she may have relented to her husband's wishes, but I see her muttering and anger when he left to come help you. He has children, so he should be spending time with them."

"Ginny will need time-"

"I completely agree. All she needs is time. She will eventually realize that he does not harbor any romantic feelings for you. The children will just love you, at least for the first seven years of their life. And then when they turn thirteen, they'll roll their eyes at whatever you tell them. When those that once knew you when you were alive die, you'll be heard but ignored."

"My children –," Harry started but the manor cut him off.

"Will your children hold the same sentiment towards your friend, or as they grow up will she be the barely tolerable Potter ghost?" The manor faked a sad look. "You may cry over her everytime you drink on the weekends and one day they will hate her for it. Mark my words. Your love for her is greater than that for them."

"That is untrue. I love my children."

"How they will see it."

Several tears fell down the ghost's cheek, vanishing into her white mists. "Hogwarts, I'll go to Hogwarts."

"All ghosts eventually get their name. Nearly Headless Nick, Bloody Baron - will you be the Mudblood of Gryffindor?"

"How dare you?" Harry snarled.

The manor continued, "One can only hope the children do not end up bullying you, like Moaning Myrtle."

The ghost's tears fell faster. "I want to go to the burrow."

The smile grew again, "Such a wonderful quaint little place. I suppose one of the Weasleys will take it - let's see. That tall one, has a nice place due to Gringotts - so no not him. That dragon one isn't even in the country. George and Fred live above their shop and are making quite a bit of money. Ron is engaged, isn't he? While Harry has always said he's never had romantic feelings, Ronald blurted to the papers - not sure Patil will want to live under the same roof. We already know how Ginny feels. Ah - that leaves Percy. He's a decent fellow. Although lives at the office, so you wouldn't really see him. But right now, that place is bursting with life… I'm sure someone will offer to take you when the two pass on. But for now, the ghoul in the attic probably wouldn't mind sharing and he could probably keep you entertained for hours. Oh, but you will be around for eternity, won't you?"

Her lip trembled and in her anger her voice rose, "And what will happen here, how is this place any better?"

"Don't listen to him," Harry snarled.

"The difference is that there you'll become a hindrance to people who once loved you in life. And once they pass, you'll be stuck with the consequences of how they decided to raise their children. A lose-lose situation."

"But here-"

"You'll make the people who killed you pay. Once Draco dies, you'll have Antares, and the rest of the little dragons as company. Some more time with them and I'm sure you'll be close friends," the manor crossed his legs, looking far too comfortable as it leaned back against the sofa cushion.

"Bellatrix is dead, Draco didn't kill me," the ghost said. "I don't harbor any ill will towards him."

"Omission is a sin. He could have saved you; he could have saved others. He chose not to."

"But-" Hermione tried to cut him off, but he wouldn't have it.

"It's his memories I have access to, and his reflections upon them. He chose not to save you; he weighed the risk of doing so at the time - and determined you were not worth it."

Her hair flared in her anger. "I was just a mud-"

"Your birth didn't have anything to do with the decision. There was little time for him to do anything except drastic action. And on the scales, his mother's life was worth more than yours. He saved your friends for you though," he looked over that Potter then, "or did you really think he didn't recognize you? Better yet, did you think that house elf coming to the rescue was sheer luck?"

"Abberworth sent Dobby!" Harry declared.

"Do you think other house elves would have just let Dobby in, especially one that had lost a place of honor? This isn't Hogwarts, other house elves can't just come and go. Dobby went to Draco, Draco gave permission for Dobby to save you," He turned back to the ghost. "Of course, this is all beside the point. I've taken you in, allowed you to be the Malfoy ghost, because this is where you'll be happiest. If you feel like you want to go elsewhere, name the place. I'll take you there. But you will never be welcomed back."

The ghost floated upwards in thought before floating back down.

"Hermione!" Harry pleaded, "Don't believe this thing. You are wanted! You are family."

The ghost's lips twisted upward, but it was filled with sorrow. "For how long, Harry... How long will I be wanted?"

"Miss Granger, you can't possibly believe this - any of this!" Flitwick cried.

Severus gave an angry sigh, "I fully agree, this thing is merely twisting our thoughts. If what it says is true, it has several lifetimes of knowledge to use in manipulating opinions. The question we need to be asking is why it wants you to stay. I can assure you it cares little for your happiness." The man's eyes narrowed into a glare, holding the neutral black eyes of the man on the couch. He took several steps forward, grabbing the collar of the robes of the man. "You'll let her leave and give Draco back his body."

The smile of the man dropped, "I have guaranteed the first. The second isn't really up to me, but I will leave this body - I have no interest to deal with the world of the living, not when there are better places to be."

Severus loosened his grip. "Put Ms. Granger in Hogwarts, we'll arrange where she goes from there."

"No," The manor didn't even flinch at the tightening grip as he denied Severus, "she needs to tell me where she wants to go."

Severus snarled. "She -"

"It is her eternity. Her choice of life was ripped from her, don't steal this from her too." The black eyes narrowed, and the man moved his face closer to Severus'. "Unlike the rest of you liars, I've made sure she understands what her choice really entails."

"Is that what Draco thinks we are, liars?" Severus asked almost wistfully.

"No, don't think of yourselves so highly. To Draco you are in the same category as the rest of this world. He sees you no differently than others. It might help for him to have multiple categories, but that is beside the point. I am not Draco. I see things in a much better perspective, one that only lifetimes can achieve. In the long run, she'll be happier here."

"As if you care for her happiness," Potter snarled, a tear trickling down his cheek.

"Draco does, so of course I do. However, unlike him who believes her happiness exists elsewhere, I know better. I know what misery she will face. I am trying to prevent it."

The ghost, who had been quietly floating up and down finally spoke. "Why do you need me here?"

The black eyes looked at her then, the relaxed face becoming a scowl. "Need sounds desperate. I am not that."

The ghost didn't back down though. "Why do you need me here?" she repeated her question.

The lip curled into a vicious snarl, the man barely lifted a hand and Severus slid to the side. The man stood and walked towards Hermione. "You made a bargain with me, ghost. Thus far you've only met the bare minimum and now you're beginning to fail at the only task you were supposed to accomplish. Do not think you have any power over me in my domain to ask. You're making a nuisance of yourself; I wouldn't recommend being any more annoying." The house trembled at the hiss.

"Bargain! What barg-" her ethereal color becoming even more pale when her eyes flickered back and forth as if remembering something. "That wasn't a dream?"

"I was under the impression ghosts couldn't do that."

"That was real?" The ghost drifted forwards.

"Real is but a relative term. You bound yourself to this place, you agreed to my terms."

Only due to the silence of the room was the ghost's quiet voice heard. "I did, didn't I?"

"I thought you could be measured by your words. Do you still intend to leave here, do you still intend to break your oath to me after I already delivered on my end?"

"Hermione-" Harry cried out, knowing by the look on the ghost's face what the answer would be. Several tears fell from his cheeks.

"I'm sorry," the ghost said then, quieter than a whisper. Her eyes glanced at Harry. "I am so sorry, Harry." Her eyes then looked around the room until they went back to the man. "Everyone, I didn't mean to cause so much trouble. You can still visit me."

"Name the place." The black eyes held the ghost's.

"I'll stay," Hermione whispered.

"I didn't catch that."

"I said," she dipped her head, "please let me stay."

The man smiled and he raised a hand towards the ghost. For the second the hand touched the ghost her pale color became chromatic, as if she were alive. He withdrew his hand. "Of course, you may stay Ms. Granger, you are the Malfoy ghost after all."

Like a king, the man sat back on the couch. He looked across at them all as if they were subjects. "Any more runic displacements and I'll start demonstrating my displeasure. Do I have your understanding?"

Before the others could answer, Antares jumped onto the couch, letting out a roar. The half-smile stayed on the man's face and his hand reached up and touched the cat. "What would I have done, had my first crafter loved me as much as he loves you? It must be such a burden for you, being the only crafter you've ever known. His emotions cling far too heavily to his soul. He may be whole, but the damage seeps into his work even when he tries to avoid it."

The cat let out another roar.

"If you want him back so badly - go fetch him yourself. You're not my master."

The tiger turned from orange to hawthorn.

The manor looked at the fireplace in the room. He snapped his fingers and the fire burned brightly. "For being so young, they are all quite opinionated and powerful…" The manor spoke quietly, not really to anyone in the room. His eyes then focused on Severus, who was beginning to come forward again. "She has decided to stay. This ends here."

"You're a dangerous and manipulative entity."

The lips tilted, "I hope to never see you again, any of you. I don't like to be fully awoken. Thrice in a decade is too much."

Severus turned to the ghost as if to plead with her, "Ms. Granger-"

"I've made my decision, professor." She said quietly, her eyes drifted to the man who'd once taught her. "I made it many years ago." Her eyes went to the empty doorway then and then to the man on the couch. "You promised you'd give up the body."

"If he wants to return." The eyes of the man went to the doorway too. "You don't have to, you don't really have any obligations to anyone anymore. No one would care if you just stayed dead."

"Of course, people would," the ghost said.

The man on the couch laughed, not at the ghost but at the doorway. "Yes, I suppose that is a good enough reason to live as any." The head of the man moved as if to keep eye contact with something unseen. "Out of all the crafters I've met, you're the most tiresome."

And then the black eyes faded to grey. A small circular dot growing larger, but just, the core revealing spell finally showing magic. The lips went down into a line and then Draco blinked. His eyes scanned those surrounding him and then focused on his core. "Porridge."

She popped in apologizing that dinner was not quite ready yet. He spoke over her. "I could use a magic replenisher."

The elf's ears tilted down. "Stupid Porridge, Porridge doesn't know the potions cupboard."

Again, Draco spoke over her apologies, "Cabinet with the golden seal in the basement, second shelf. On the far left there will be a green bottle, return that one."

The elf sniffled several other minor apologies for inconveniencing him for instructions and how kind he was to give them, before she popped away.

"I have one right-" Severus began but Draco cut him off.

"No, thank you," the words were crisp, but the impassive look on his face did not change. He didn't even look at the man as he spoke the words, but at a point on the wall. The eyes then drifted to the side. "Antares, stop picking a fight."

The hawthorn turned orange and the tiger gave a low growl. "How dare it. The nerve of a creation to do such to you."

"Enough."

The ears tilted further down, "Can't you hear it, the things it is saying."

"Enough." Draco's voice became sharper, and Antares's ears went all the way back in response. Draco reach over then and gently scratched its head.

A pop and the house elf was back, green bottle in hand. Draco took it, at first he was about to drink it, but then thought better of it. This was Porridge after all. He sniffed the potion, sixth shelf - boil cure. He'd forgotten to give instructions on the direction to count the shelves. That is what had taken so long. If he corrected her now, it would make her split her head. "I need the 6th shelf green bottle as well."

The elf popped away; Draco recapped and tucked the potion in his pocket.

She returned quicker this time, not having the dilemma of direction or bottle choices. He sniffed this as well just to make sure she remembered the correct cabinet and then drank it. He still felt beyond miserable, but the potion would help over the course of several hours.

"Porridge will continue with dinner."

"There has been a change in plans, the guests will be leaving and unable to attend our meal. Now, go put the food in stasis - I'll eat in the east parlor in several hours." Draco said quickly, and the elf popped away. A small blessing.

"We are not going anywhere!" Harry said, "That thing-"

"If you do not leave my house, I will contact the Minister of Magic. I am done being harassed by an auror." His eyes didn't stray from Antares.

"The minister -"

"Will take one look at my appearance and yours, to know that he probably would have a lawsuit on his hands."

"You think you can threaten me?"

That was right, Potter never cared about himself. But there was a solution to that -"Not to mention I was illegally dosed, or at least misled about potions that were given to me. I also wasn't monitored during said time of dosing. That puts Master Snape's degree at risk. I will press charges if you do not leave my house at once. And it will likely cost him his job."

In silence, he continued, "As I have told you before. I will need at least a week to research the wards thoroughly. I will send a message when I have found a way to remove your ghost from my premise."

"I am staying," the ghost said quietly. "I made a promise with the manor," her voice went quiet when his eyes finally left the tiger and went to her. They were empty of emotion.

"We'll discuss this at a later time."

"But-" the ghost tried to chime in, but he cut her off just as he had Antares.

"Later." His eyes then dropped back to the tiger. "Why are the rest of you still in my house?"

"We'll take our leave," a voice just as impassive as his said.

Draco could feel the wind and brush of Severus's robes upon his ankles as they billowed out with the man's departure. Footsteps followed the dragonhide boots click upon the wood. And then the door shut.

The tears fell silently. Draco wrapped his arms around the cat and put his face against its fur. He cried, shoulders shaking, but silently because he didn't know how to cry loudly anymore. Loudly meant pain, death or unwanted attention. The cat shifted, getting into a more comfortable position. At some point his body stopped shaking, and he felt in control again.

"Is the astral plane so terrible?" There was a quiver in the ghost's voice.

Draco raised his head and the bloodshot eyes held her stare. His shoulders drooped more. "For someone like you, no. If you choose to move on Granger, you have nothing to fear."

His eyes dropped back down to the tiger as he started to brush it. After a moment of silence he spoke again, "There is nothing terrible about it… Nothing terrible about it for the dead…"

"But for the living?"

"If you could see every choice you've made, and what would have come from making a different one…. That there had been a right choice under the circumstances you were in and you just failed to see or do it…" his voice trailed off. He straightened himself, he was a Malfoy.

"How is it any better being dead?" The ghost floated to the side of the couch, such that she appeared to be resting on the armrest just above Antares. "You know, I bet if I hadn't told Bellatrix her breath was like dung I probably would have lived to see the morrow."

He couldn't help it, he laughed sadly and not quite sanely. "Her breath was truly horrid, wasn't it? She drank this garlic and valerian root tincture. I won't even let the house elves cook with garlic."

"I might have been able to escape with them," Hermione told him, watching as he stroked the cat's back. "I might have lived. So how can it be better for the dead?"

"You've never robbed someone of life, Granger." He looked up at her then. "That's the difference. For those still living we have to continue with the consequences of our actions…"

Silence passed between them, and they both looked down at the tiger.

"The girl… I saw her under the willow. Who was she?"