Chapter 36

"Myrtle?" Draco asked into the dark, peering his head up towards the low stone ceiling. Not that he could see anything in the dark, anyways.

"I thought it was you they brought into the castle, but I wasn't sure. Than it was so dark down here, but your voice confirms it," she answered back, and Draco felt a sense of cold pass through him, undoubtably from Myrtle floating through the cell. The sense of relief that flooded Draco was like taking a wet cloak off and sitting down next to a blazing fire in a cozy study- warm and familiar.

"Myrtle where the bloody hell am I?" He asked, still straining his eyes to see in the impossible dark.

"You're under the lake," She responded, mournfully. "Sometimes it fills up with water down here." Her words chilled Draco to the bone. "It's been so long. You have never come to visit me," She added, her voice raising to a higher pitch.

"I'm sorry Myrtle," He said. It was a genuine apology. During his 6th year at Hogwarts, Myrtle had become somewhat of a confidant for Draco. She had been outside his circle, removed enough from his actual life so that she could listen to him without judgement and without expectation. "I wasn't allowed to come back to Hogwarts after I fell out of favor," He said quietly, feeling shame bloom inside him again.

"Things are so nasty here and no one talks to forgotten old Myrtle," She bemoaned above him, as self-deprecating as she had always been.

"You wouldn't want these gits to talk to you anyways," He responded, lowering himself down into a sitting position on the cool stone floor. "Bunch of morons, that lot."

Above him, Myrtle giggled and then Draco felt another cool gust of air that must have been her floating closely by him.

"They're very angry you're here, you know," She said in a hushed, conspiratory tone.

"Yea, well, so am I," He responded back, closing his eyes in frustration. "Did any one say what they had planned for me?"

"They can't decide. The potions master wants to bring you up and question you in front of everyone. The girl wants to kill you," Myrtles voice raised a few octaves, and she settled into to her gossip.

"Which girl?" Draco asked, as a menagerie of female faces floated through his mind.

"The loud one with black hair, she just arrived at the castle this morning and she's already acting like she's in charge." She responded, sounding incredulous.

"Pansy?" Draco asked shrilly, stomach sinking. Pansy would probably get her way if she was the one calling the shots. A quick death would be better than being forgotten down here to starve to death or drown. He concluded sensibly, already working through the acceptance stage of his imminent death.

"Yes, and she's dreadful. But I don't think she's very well-liked amongst the staff, you know," She responded dryly, causing Draco to smile despite himself. He knew that Blaise, the current potions master, had never liked Pansy. Blaise was a relaxed soul by nature and had his own way of doing things. Pansy was obstinate and entitled. Not to say that Blaise wasn't, but he wasn't so tactless about his entitlement, like Pansy was. The two bumped heads all the time, and Draco could already see the tension forming between the two that Draco's presence must have heralded.

Draco hadn't spoken to Blaise since before his parent's death, and he could imagine Blaise hated him now, just as the rest of the wizarding world did. However, that didn't stop Draco from having a bit of affection still for his old friend, and he smiled again to think of Blaise wanting to keep Draco alive just to spite Pansy.

"Is the Dark Lord here in the castle?" He asked, dreading the answer.

"I don't think he's here yet but you should have seen them all chomping at the bits to be the one to summon him, to tell him about that frizzy-haired girl," Myrtle said, her conspirators tone back in place, as if she was feeding important and secret information to him.

"Is she down here to?" Draco asked, not liking the concerned tone he had taken on.

"No, she is in a chamber under the Headmaster's office. I popped in to see if it was that girl who was rude to me in the Loo a few weeks ago, because they both have that ugly, frizzy hair, but it wasn't," Myrtle said, sounding a little dismayed. "It's that Hermione, the one always with Harry Potter,"

"I know, they captured us together," He answered absent-mindedly. Why did they put us so far apart? "How did she look?"

"Oh, just awful. Much worse than you," She responded, sounding just a little pleased. He knew that myrtle didn't exactly like Hermione, as Myrtle had thought Hermione was rude to her in the loo more than once.

Draco took a second to process what Myrtle said. For reason's he didn't understand, Myrtles words filled him with anger and worry. What did they do to her? I swear, if Pansy has laid a finger- Draco shook his head and pushed the thought a way. He didn't have a wand, and he was trapped deep under the lake. What could he possibly do to Pansy? Besides, Hermione had known what would happen to her once the Death Eaters got ahold of her and seemed mentally prepared to take a beating. Please let it just be a beating…. He hoped, trying not to think of all the things that the Death Eaters could be doing to her.

"Do you know what they have planned for her?" He asked, trying to pretend he didn't feel a swell of panic at the possibilities. Why the fuck should I care? I'm going to die anyways, and it's not like Granger means anything to me. He thought, his mind recalling the bickering that was a semi-constant state between them. Due to his status as traitor, and an orphan, he was alone and friendless in this world.

But, Hermione had talked to him, included him in her crack-pot plan and extended him sympathy. Perhaps, in a weird way, she was his only friend. The thought made Draco grimace, and he tried to push it from his mind. He didn't like thinking like this. She was a know-it-all git, and definitely not someone he could pal around with. So then why do I care? You're weak, Draco. He scolded himself mentally.

"No," Myrtle answered. "I only know that they summoned you-know-who to come because she is here. They don't want the other prisoners to know that you two are here, so it's all very hush hush. They don't care about talking in front of the ghosts, though. They think were useless," She finished with an attitude, her voice trailing off.

"Who else is a prisoner here?" He asked, curiosity peaking.

"I don't know. I don't go down to the dungeons much, I just stay in the loo usually," she said, as she sniffed the air.

Draco rubbed his forehead with his hand. It wouldn't matter who was prisoner here anyways. They would hate him regardless of his own status as a prisoner, and it's not like he was going anywhere any time soon.

"They're going to leave me here to die while they decide what to do with me," Draco said, more to the universe than to Myrtle.

"And you will probably move on, and poor old Myrtle will still be alone," She said mournfully.

Draco chuckled. What else could he do? She was right. The thought of being a ghost detested him. To stay and watch a world change that he couldn't truly be apart of? No thanks. You have already been doing that, though, you fool.

"The other staff won't tell the transfiguration teacher who was taken prisoner," Myrtle added.

"Of course, Edgecomb. They think he harbors sympathies," Draco answered thoughtfully. It had been Waldorf, Astoria's father, who had advocated for Edgecomb's position at Hogwarts. Waldorf believed an education was paramount for the next generation of Death Eater's. But Waldorf was dead now, and there would be no advocate for Edgecomb anymore.

"I suppose I can go up to the castle and see what that lot is up to now," Myrtle said, after a few minutes of silence.

"You can maybe see what they're doing to Hermione, too?" Draco asked without thinking, and immediately regretted it. Why the fuck do I care? He scolded himself. And if they're torturing her, what could I do to stop it? It would be better not to know.