The characters are not mine. The Gryffindor song is.

"Dying must have driven you completely mad, Weaselbee, if you think I'm Granger's true flame."

"Not true flame, you idiot, 'Twin Flame.' Think something even more powerful than a soul mate. And I'm not barking. The Fates were disturbingly clear about it being you. The only reason I didn't show up sooner was because I've been arguing it."

"Then the bloody Fates are barmy. There is no way in this life or the next that Granger would even consent to go near me, much less create some incredible child. You said human screw-ups entertain those witches; this must take the cake for them." Malfoy flopped gracelessly into an overstuffed chair, and considered the ghost over the top of his tumbler.

"I'd offer you a taste, but you can't hold it, can you? Seems like you could use this just as much as I."

Weasley looked even more morose, if that was possible. "I can't touch or taste anything. It's sending me mental - I can't even stand to enter the Great Hall, knowing the feast is off-limits."

Remembering the redhead's gourmand tendencies in past years, Malfoy didn't know what to say in response to that, other than that he was sorry. However, Malfoys weren't even supposed to know the word. He kept his own counsel for several minutes, then looked Ron in the eye.

"Look...I feel for you. I really do, no matter how much of a useless prick I thought you were while you were alive."

"Gee, thanks. Right comforting, that is."

Draco blew an exasperated breath through his nose. "Weasley, you need to go back to the Fates, and tell them to find you something else to earn your halo, or whatever. Granger and I simply aren't going to happen."

"What, you aren't even willing to try?"

"Why should I? At best, she'll ignore me, or laugh. At worst, she'll hex me into next year for presumptuousness. Just piss off back to wherever you came from, OK? I'm going to sleep." With that, he rose and headed to his bedchamber.

When he arrived, Weasley was already waiting for him. "I get it, Malfoy. Here's the thing you need to keep in mind, though. Much as I always thought you were a miserable shit, the Fates weren't kidding. Even setting aside what your spawn's supposed to do, if you're truly right for Mione, that means she could have a chance at being happy again. So I'm not leaving you until you agree to really make an effort."

"Fine. Hang about. You're not changing my mind." The esteemed potions professor laid down and prepared to fall asleep.

His grey eyes shot open as Ron began to sing off-key, at the top of his lungs:

"Oh, Gryffindor

The Lions Roar

We've loyalty,

And bravery more

Than other houses

Make no mistake

We're better than those bloody snakes!"

"WEASLEY, YOU FUCKING LUNATIC - WHAT THE HELL?"

"It's the Gryffindor song, Malfoy. After another 30 or so repetitions, I bet you'll be able to sing it by heart, too."

Draco moaned, and wrapped his pillow about his ears. The night seemed interminable.

_DMHG_

When Draco awoke, his paranormal tormentor was gone. He breathed a sigh of relief, quickly located a vial of Pepper-up potion, and cast a glamour to hide the fact that he looked like shite after a sleepless night.

His first two classes of the day progressed normally. Unfortunately, Weasley manifested again during his fourth-year class. The ginger stood at the back of the room at first, making faces at Malfoy, and keeping up an incessant commentary during the Pureblood's lecture. By the end of class, the sadistic spirit was dogging his steps. Draco finally dismissed the class early, with the admonition that they owed him two feet of parchment on the properties of Grindylow spit.

As soon as the room was empty, he whirled to face Ron, hissing "Was that really necessary? And the singing last night?"

"Well, what did you expect? I certainly wasn't going to sing 'Weasley is Our King.' You can get stuffed if you expected that. And I warned you, Malfoy: I'm not giving up. I'm the second-youngest in a large family, and I'm related to Fred & George Weasley - that makes me an expert at irritation."

"I have no doubt," Malfoy retorted dryly. He paused, and Ron could tell he had something on what passed for his mind.

"What? Out with it."

"I just wondered...have you been able to talk to Fred at all? Or see him? I mean, you're both on the same side, now."

"Why in the name of all that's holy would you ask that? What did my brother ever mean to you?"

"It's not like we were close, Weasley, but your brothers were funny. Even I enjoyed their pranks, as long as they didn't involve me. It just, er, bothered me when he died, you know?"

"Dear gods. You just might have a heart in there after all, you sonofabitch." Ron stared for a long moment, then answered softly, "no. I haven't seen or heard from him. I think he's already gone on to whatever's next. Would've made this a lot more bearable if he'd still been around."

"Weasley..."

Ron was gone.

The peace didn't last long. Within a day, the ghost was back with a vengeance. In classes, at night, even in the loo, where he not only dogged Draco about cooperating, he made an exceptionally rude remark about Malfoy's tackle.

The final straw came the next night, when the blond had thought he was safe to enjoy a wank. He was really getting into it, when-

"See? There's another thing I can't do. Being a ghost really sucks."

"Merlin's saggy ball sack! What are you doing here? Have you no decency?"

"Were you thinking about Hermione?"

Malfoy closed his eyes, doing his best to regain his composure. Ron was amused to note that Ferret Boy had turned red as a cooked lobster. Or a Weasley's hair.

"Fine. You win, OK? I'll do it. Just bugger off!"

"You need to approach her carefully. Maybe-" Malfoy stopped him.

"Weasley, don't tell me how to try to win her over. It's what worked for you. I have to do this in my own way."

"Then gods help the wizarding world."

Draco smirked. "Whatever. Now get the fuck out. I'll see you tomorrow. And announce yourself first. Rattle a chain, or something."

Ron flicked the v's at him, and disappeared.