A/N: I was going to throw a smooch into this chapter, because it was a perfect opportunity, but I decided against it. Tough. Thankyou to reviewers!! I love you guys!! –hug-
Disclaimer: I am not lucky enough to as smart as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-
The Stone Speaks
Twelve: Shooting Stars
DRACO
Hallowe'en. Six o'clock. Draco anxiously inspected his reflection in the cold, snake-framed mirror. He looked stupid, he had to admit, but hopefully no-one else would mind. He had taken Ginny's diss seriously, and just prepared to wear an old shirt (long-sleeved, for Ginny's sake) and some old trousers, but, in the last twenty minutes before he was due to meet Ginny and Myrtle in the bathroom, had gone into a frenzy, deciding that he needed a costume.
In the little time he had, Draco had sealed several pieces of parchment together, making an untidy mask, singed eye- and mouth-holes in it, and transfigured it green. He had transfigured his hair green to match – with several errors. It first went pink, then black, then it disappeared, before he got it right – and wore a green shirt with baggy, ragged grey trousers with rips in the knees. The costume wasn't brilliant, but it was better than nothing.
Gingerly poking his fingers through the holes in his trouser-knees, he sighed, and then set off for Myrtle's toilet. Every step he took, Draco peered in any shiny surface he saw, frantic that in the last thirty seconds his mask had fallen apart or his hair had turned blonde again. He made it to Myrtle's bathroom in one piece, and immediately checked up in the many mirrors on the walls.
"You could say hello," Myrtle said, annoyed.
Draco swivelled to face the young (or, technically, very old) ghoul. She had no costume – she couldn't change out of the clothes she had died in. "Hello Myrtle," Draco said obediently. "You look nice for Hallowe'en," he added for good measure, knowing that it always made girls shut up.
Myrtle's grey face turned a few shades lighter as she blushed, and then said modestly, "I didn't really do anything." Draco knew that this was absolutely true, but didn't say anything. A sense of dread was threatening to suffocate him, but he pushed it away and tried to be cheerful. For just one night, he would be a happy person if it killed him.
"Where's Weasley?" Draco inquired, looking at his watch. "She's late."
"Oh, yeah!" Myrtle gasped. "I forgot. She's meeting us by the carriages. She wants to be a surprise because – I quote her – 'your costumes will be doubtlessly pitiful and I want mine to be amazing'." Myrtle snorted.
Draco chuckled as well, but nervously glanced down at his Hogsmeade attire. Oh well. They headed towards the Entrance Hall, the halls deserted by the lack of other students. Draco's hand grew sweat – this would show how popular he was, wouldn't it? Spending Hallowe'en with a dead girl who was seventy-six years old, definitely cool. A spasm of panic hit him as he thought, What if she doesn't show up?
They had reached the Entrance Hall doors, and despite all that Draco was feeling in his heart, he continued bravely. Soon they were standing by the golden Threstral-drawn carriages, waiting impatiently for Ginny to show up.
"Is she going to be here soon?" Draco demanded to Myrtle, a little snappy, scared of being abandoned. Before the other Hallowe'en-er could answer, he saw a flash of red skulking behind a tree, a few metres away. Draco squinted into the blackness. "Weasley?"
There was a laugh. "I'm no good at hide-and-seek." Ginny stepped out, into the shallow lamplight, a small smile on her face.
Draco heartr lurched; he suddenly found that his stomach had been squashed into a very small knot and was now somewhere in the vicinity of his throat. He opened his mouth to make a sarky comment, to defend his pride, but all that came out was a low rasp, and he felt his face heating up violently for reasons he didn't quite understand.
Ginny wore a knee-length, floaty black dress (with long sleeves, Draco noticed with a wince) that clung in all the right places. She wore strappy black high-heeled shoes so that the top of her head was now level with Draco's nose. A black hairband with two spiky devil-horns cut through her curly red hair, loose around her shoulders, and her hazel eyes were rimmed with black. Two large, feathery, black wings were attached to the back of her dress, waving slightly in the wind. Around her slim, exposed neck was the Stone of Montol, glittering devilishly in the orange glow of the lamp.
There was an astonished silence for a moment, and then Ginny said dryly, "Are we going to Hogsmeade, or is this going to be it?"
Draco reddened further, and said quickly, "Let's go," before anyone would suspect his reasons for silence.
Ginny grinned fabulously and hopped nimbly into the carriage. She scooted down on the red velvet sofa that lined the walls, and patted the seat beside her. Standing awkwardly with Myrtle by the door, Draco glanced over at the third member of his party, to see if she wanted to go and sit with Ginny, but Moaning Myrtle glided past and sat opposite the redhead, leaving Draco to either seem mean by sitting by Myrtle, or to be humiliated by sitting by Ginny.
"Tough choice," Ginny said sarcastically. "Just sit down, Draco. Neither me or Myrtle will despise you if you sit next to the other, so I honestly don't see why you're delaying our Hallowe'en-ing."
Draco chuckled, and slid into the seat beside Ginny, remembering his vow to be cheerful. "So what are we actually going to do in Hogsmeade?" he asked.
Ginny's eyes sparkled. "We could go to the Shrieking Shack," she said gleefully, "it'll be really scary, because it's haunted. Then we could go to Honeydukes to buy some sweets, maybe go to the Three Broomsticks."
Draco eyed Ginny suspiciously. "The Three Broomsticks is serving only alcohol tonight," he told her.
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Loosen up, Draco," she said, "live a little!"
Draco folded his arms, and turned to stare at her. "May I remind you that I am the only one in our little group who isn't underage? While Myrtle is technically about sixty-seven, she is currently only fifteen, and you, Weasley, have a year to go before you can drink anything that's not wedding-champagne," he said flatly.
Ginny grinned. "And that's why you're here," she joked. "Lighten up, Draco, we'll only have one, and then we'll go to the Sober Banshee for several pumpkin juices to calm us down."
Draco's eyebrows rose slightly, but sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever," he said, "but I'm not cleaning up after a sick kid and a drunk ghost."
"I," Ginny snapped, "am not a kid," her hazel eyes blazed fiercely, and the Stone seemed to glow with a ferocity of its own, "and don't you forget it."
Draco smirked. "I thought we were going to 'lighten up', Weasley," he teased.
Ginny sat back, but a smile was tugging at her lips, and she turned away to hide it, and defend her honour. As she did so, she saw the lamp-lit landscape of Hogsmeade approaching, and allowed her guardedness to fall away as she beamed delightedly. "We're here," she chirped.
Myrtle and Draco returned a smile, and the three of them climbed out of the carriage. "To the Shrieking Shack!" Myrtle crowed, unnaturally confident; Draco and Ginny blinked at her outgoingness.
Ginny burst out giggling, and Draco gave a short laugh. It was funny, but he didn't feel like laughing properly. After all of this time hiding his emotions, it wouldn't do to drop them all, just to have a snigger at Moaning Myrtle.
The three of them decided to go to Honeydukes first, to get some sweets to eat at the Shrieking Shack, but as they neared the bustling, lively shop, Draco saw a girl with brown curly hair and cat ears, a tall boy with red hair and a ghoul mask, a skinny boy with messy hair, glasses, and fake blood, and a girl with a giant radish enclosing her small frame. Ginny obviously saw too, because she yelped, and veered away.
"What was that all about?" Myrtle inquired. "I thought we were going to get some food."
Draco looked at Ginny. "I know what that was about," he said, "I'm just curious as to why."
Ginny blushed and looked at her feet. "I told them I couldn't go to Hallowe'en because I didn't feel well – but actually, I just didn't want to go with them. So if they saw me with you two, the two ideas might contradict," she explained.
"It could be a different person," Draco suggested, and then glanced over Ginny, realizing what a stupid suggestion it was, "a different girl… small, thin, with red hair and freckles." With a partially-evil necklace with unspeakable power, he silently added.
Ginny smirked. "Precisely."
The space grew stuffy behind Malfoy's mask; he removed it, and stuffed it clumsily into his pocket. Chilly Hallowe'en air landed on his face, feeling refreshingly ventilated.
The full moon rose high into the sky, casting a silvery glow on everything as the Slytherin, the Gryffindor and the Hufflepuff ghost arrived at the Shrieking Shack. The dim, pale light made everything slightly more creepy, and at every rustling of a branch, Draco felt a shiver sprint up and down his spine. More than once Ginny jumped backwards, hitting Draco painfully in the ribs with her flailing arms.
"Ow." Draco rubbed his ribcage, trying to get some feeling back into it. "Do try not to beat me up before we even reach the Shack," he complained.
Ginny pouted. "But that's no fun," she grinned. She grabbed hold of the wooden fence that surrounded the Shrieking Shack, and stood on one of the thick slats, peering across the misty hillside. "The Shrieking Shack is barely visible," she said, sounding disappointed.
Draco took a step closer to the fence, and followed Ginny's gaze. There, concealed by a thick, slightly reddish fog, stood a tumbledown, wrecked old house. "The fog is red," he noted.
"Well done," Ginny replied, and looked at him. Now that she was standing on a fence, she was about an inch taller than Draco, so he had to tilt his head up slightly to see her properly.
"Hello," he said softly, angling his head so that he could look up into her heart-shaped, creamy face. Draco didn't know why, but spontaneously let go of his protection and let a smile flicker on his face.
Ginny smiled as well. "It's weird being taller than you," she laughed, and climbed down. She crossed to Myrtle and giggled something into the ghost's ear.
Myrtle looked over at Draco, guffawed, and then hid her face away. Draco felt ashamed of whatever he had done – he didn't know what it was – and shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "What's so funny?" he asked, not sure that he wanted to know.
Ginny began doubling up with hilarity, finally giggling, "You – you have green dye – dripping down your… face!"
Draco rolled his eyes. "Women," he muttered, and charmed the dye away. His face was soon spotless, but Ginny and Myrtle hooted with laughter all the way up to the Sober Banshee (they settled upon not going to the Three Broomsticks). As Draco ordered a table, a young waitress even asked if anything was wrong.
The trio dropped down into cubicle, Myrtle and Ginny squashed together opposite Draco. After sending a fleeting look around the others, Draco told the waitress, "Three butterbeers, please."
Myrtle looked glumly at the polished table. "You're wasting your money, you know," she said dully, "I can't drink anything. The butterbeer will be unused for as long as time lasts."
"It's to make you feel more included," Ginny said firmly, "because you're our friend, and you shouldn't be left out of everything just because of a little thing like being dead."
Myrtle frowned. "A little thing?" she echoed.
Draco nodded. "A little thing."
The drinks arrived, and the two Hogwarts students lifted their glasses, while the ghost looked despairingly at her own. Draco and Myrtle looked to Ginny, who was furrowing her eyebrows together strangely. Then, she beamed, and said proudly, "To life, to death, and, most importantly, to that little area in between."
"Hear, hear," Draco cheered. "To Myrtle!"
"To Ginny," Myrtle smiled gratefully at the older – or younger, whichever way to look at it.
"To Draco," Ginny finished shyly, and the two living who could hold their glasses, clanked them together happily, and then touched their glasses gently to Myrtle's still one.
"May this be the best night all year," Draco said solemnly, feeling eternally thankful to his friends.
"Duh," said Ginny, and then whooped, "We're gonna get wasted!" Draco's mouth dropped open, and she hastily added, "metaphorically, of course, because I'm not going to spike the drinks or anything."
Myrtle snorted, and even Draco managed a smile. Myrtle and Ginny spoke quietly for a while, as Draco sipped his butterbeer, trying to sort out his cavorting feelings. He wanted so badly to be friends with Ginny and Myrtle, but he had to kill the younger redhead. He wanted to be popular again, but he couldn't wind back time. He didn't want to be a Death Eater, but it was too late for that. He had too many wishes for a sky full of shooting stars.
A/N: I know, it's a little weird that the new Golden Trio is Ginny, Draco and Moaning Myrtle… Oh well. They can be the Silver Trio, I suppose. Anyway, I know that allegedly Myrtle's only supposed to travel through pipes but whatever. Please review!