Chapter Five

Screaming and the distinct sounds of breaking glass woke Draco. He shot up in his bed, his wand in front of him, searching for the source of the disruption with every intent of eliminating it. However, when he found the source, the light of his wand shimmering over her, it reminded him that the annoying girl had been already killed.

Every morning he expected it to be some sort of dream. He wanted it over, and yet... He never wanted it to end. He could see Hermione, he could talk to her. Although she was just as infuriating and annoying as she was when she was alive, there wasn't a second he wasted in truly wishing her away. He didn't realize how nice it was to have company. He didn't realize how lonely he had been.

"Go to sleep, Granger." He mumbled, throwing the pillow over his face once more. It wasn't until after his eyes were closed and he was one flying dragon away from sleep that he remembered Hermione didn't sleep.

"Get your bum up now, Malfoy!"

He groaned, tearing his fingers into the pillow, throwing it to the opposite end of the bed. "You're insane, Granger. You are off your fucking rocker. Do you realize it's three in the morning? That means that people who aren't ghosts are sleeping. Since you are a ghost, you don't sleep, but I'm not troll's breath and I do need it!" Hermione folded her arms in an indignant and stubborn nature, but it was by means of blocking out his insults. She was always good at that... With one lazy comment he could have Potter and Weasley threatening him with curses. Hermione was the one who played the peace-keeper. Draco hated it at first, just like how he hated her, but it grew on him. In fact, he felt admiration for her. There was no way that Draco could do it. He enjoyed the fight too much.

"Why is Luna in the cellar?"

At that one simple question, he was awake. He rolled off the bed, the covers tangled around his ankles, and he kicked them off furiously. Hermione waited, but her eyes were ablaze in fury, and it made him a little nervous, his heart beating wildly. The sheet was knotted over his foot and he tripped while trying to untie it, and he fell, his face near shards of glass, his cheek and chin in water. It was his glass, the one he always set beside his bed before sleep.

"What happened?" He lifted his face, feeling it drip down to his chin. "How did you do that?"

Hermione groaned. "When I'm angry..." She gestured.

It made sense. They learned that in class, that a ghost was made of energy (the popular assumption they were made of their own breath), so when they expressed a strong enough emotion, things could break, they became more solid. It was only temporary, but it was something. It gave him chills. That, or the water did. It was still cold.

"Luna." She reminded him.

He stood, wiping the water from his face with the back of his hand. "They got her when she was at school. Her father was printing in that ruddy paper to 'Support Harry Potter.' They took her to get him to stop." He sat on the bed, still as tired as when he went to sleep. He preferred to set his wand to wake him but when was the last time he actually got to use it since she arrived?

Then, a horrible idea occurred to him, and he stood once more. "You didn't go see her?"

She sighed heavily. "Yes, I did. She was most pleased with my appearance. The only people she sees all day are Ollivander and Dean." The last three words were bold and highlighted, her tone the tip of a knife.

"It was the Dark Lord's -" she flinched "- orders for Ollivander. Dean was a runaway. We kept him down there."

"Why don't you help them?"

"I do!"

"I know about you sending extra food down and the blankets." Her face softened greatly. "I meant... Why don't you release them?"

"I can't do that, Granger." She flinched again at the sound of her surname. She knew it was how he blocked her out, forgetting what they once were. "It's not my decision."

"Set them free and go with them."

"I'm not leaving my family."

Tears sprung in her eyes. He was getting sick of seeing that. He remembered the only reason he put up with Moaning Myrtle was because he had no one else to talk to. Truth was, he still didn't. Hermione was all he had. A sense of longing pained him deep in his stomach.

"Okay," she relented. "But I'm staying down there with them. You can come and see me when you find my murderer."

"Are you sure you're not better off with your hero?" But he said it too late. She was gone, floating through his personal fireplace.

That night, when he snuck food down to the cellar, he saw Ollivander huddled in the corner, the Goblin in the opposing nook, and Luna and Hermione talking dead-set (pun unintended) in the middle of the room.

He pitched Luna an apple which she caught without looking. The girl had a creepiness about her that sent chills down his back. Yet, she was sort of pleasant in a way that calmed him. With Luna things were black and white, and she admitted that nothing was ever so simple. She was a contradictory form of relief and he sent her food only to be in her sunshine presence for a little while. A reminder of sweeter days from someone who didn't hate him.

The cause of her lack of hatred was because she saw right through him. The reason he stayed. That was one of her creepy factors. Worse yet, she saw right through his love for Hermione. A week after her arrival, when he obtained the gumption to see her, she said, "someone who loves Hermione can't be all bad." Just like that, she liked him. Always had.

Like he said, creepy.

"Thank you," she said in that airy tone. "I was feeling peckish. You have met Hermione," she waved her hand at the ghost.

"Yes."

"It's sad to see her as a ghost, isn't it?"

It wasn't sad, it was devastating. Draco didn't say that aloud. He didn't say anything at all.

"It is good to see her. She won't be staying long, Draco. You should spend time with her." As if Hermione were simply a guest that stopped by on a visit to a house he generously shared with Luna. "You're welcome to sit with us."

Draco shook his head. "I've got to go."

Right then there was the the sound of the heavy front doors of the Manor slamming closed, they reverberated, muffled but loud. Snatchers, probably. Yet, something in his gut told him that it wasn't the normal routine, that it wasn't just anyone they were bringing in. There was a foreboding, and he became very aware that he couldn't be caught down there with them.

"I wonder who that is. You have company, Draco."

"Stay here, all of you." He was talking to Hermione specifically, as the others couldn't possibly leave. He turned and ran up the stairs and locked the door behind him. One deep breath and he rushed into the drawing room hoping that no one saw where he emerged from.

What he saw made his body go still. Even his heart stopped.

A/N: For a warning, this is a short story and there will be six more chapters (that's including an epilogue).

And please don't mind the sparse coarse language, if it bothers you you are more than welcome to stop reading. It will not hurt my feelings.