Eighteen

The Higurashi girl allowed her brow to tilt downward, releasing a quiet sigh at the realization that she needed to use the nearest bathroom. It was really just her luck, since she was pretty positive that she was going to be late for Transfiguration class already. This would be the third time this week, and she was pretty positive that Professor McGonagall would hold to her promise to give her detention this time.

Maybe if she had a really good excuse, though?

"As if, Higurashi," she laughed to herself. Her quiet laughter quickly died away, though, as she turned to head in the direction of the bathroom in the next corridor over. If she was going to be late anyway, she might as well have an excuse to tell Professor McGonagall when the woman was glaring down at her from over her glasses.

It was not as if it would be a lie, after all. Just a little detour. The Gryffindor Head would surely think she was crazy if she tried to tell her that every day on her way to Classroom 1B, she had to take four flights of stairs that caused her to cross the path leading down into the third floor corridor. And that every day since she had accidentally allowed her feet to lead her there, she felt the obsessive need to stand in the very spot that had apparently doomed her from the start.

Another tiny sigh escaped her, knowing that some piece of her hoped that he would find her there one day. It was always the wrong time of day, but it was the floor that he and Pansy Parkinson had been assigned to patrol. She feared that that was the actual reason she found herself standing in that spot every day, staring at the wall as if it would answer all of her unanswered questions.

She wanted to hate herself. How could she have let this happen to herself? He was Draco freaking Malfoy! The boy she was supposed to loathe for all eternity! She was not supposed to be constantly thinking about him, worrying about him, and hoping that whatever mess he had gotten himself into did not end up… killing him.

Her body tensed at the very thought, but she was quick to shake the emotion away. He was a Slytherin, she tried to reason with herself. He was probably a Death Eater like his father was before him, and she was fairly certain that he was from how on edge he was making Harry Potter. That in itself made him evil, but…

There it was. That little but that always managed to pop into her reasoning.

Her father had been a Slytherin, but that did not make him evil. He had been a grown man, though, able to make his own decision on whether he wanted to follow the Dark Lord or marry the pretty little Hufflepuff who brightened his world.

Draco was a boy. He would have not have had a choice, whether he wanted it or not, due to the fact that his own parents probably pushed it onto him out of sheer fear for his life. They loved him, did they not? She was fairly certain that Slytherin or not, his family spoiled him out of love! And so, their awful choice fell upon him.

"Oh my god," Kagome groaned. She was doing it again!

The Gryffindor girl closed her eyes for only a brief moment, trying to compose herself, but quickly snapped them open when she stepped into a puddle of water. She took a step or two backward, suspicion clearly written in her eyes. Her wand slowly slid from her pocket, poised and waiting for that little shit to show himself. She would get that little poltergeist good this time, since the last time she had come across a strange puddle in the middle of the hall, Peeves had dumped an entire bucket of water on her head several seconds later.

The attack did not come, though, and she started to feel somewhat stupid with each second that ticked away. The puddle was pretty close to the boys' washroom, after all, so there was a chance that it had flooded out of the door and into the corridor to settle.

A frown tugged at her lip, as she noticed a slight ripple course through the still water from the edge of her vision. She glanced down, her mind focusing on the liquid and forcing away the shout that she was fairly certain she had heard in the background. Kagome's eyes widened, the familiar sensation of the future crashing over her, as the water at her feet started to bleed crimson red like blood.

The door slamming against the wall startled her back into herself just in time for her to glance up to see Harry Potter staring at her with a crazed look in his eye. His body was shaking, and he had a death grip on his wand that was causing his knuckles to turn stark white. "Harry?" she called out to him, concerned.

The Boy-Who-Lived shook his head, and nearly pushed her over when he finally forced him way past her. His crazy seemed to hold her captive, as she turned herself to watch him finally sprint down the rest of the corridor and out of sight.

There was definitely something wrong.

The feeling was so potent that she was surprised she could not taste it in the air around her. A shiver raced up and down her spine suddenly, knowing that there was no way she could ignore whatever had just happened between her and Harry. But, she suspected that the feeling did not pertain to Harry himself, but rather whatever he had left in the washroom that had caused him to involve magic.

It almost seemed wrong for her to walk into the boys' washroom, but she pushed the door open easily enough without even realizing that she had crossed the distance. The Gryffindor girl bit her lip when she did not see anything out of place, and hoped that no one happened to need to use this particular room while she was searching for whatever Harry had left behind.

The room was eerily quiet, despite the facet that was spraying water onto the floor somewhere in the room. Had Harry taken his anger out on the plumbing? More importantly, what had caused him to use magic while using the toilet of all things?

There had to be more. That look in his eye spoke of more.

But—

"He's hurt," a quiet voice called out to her, "you should help him."

Turning on her heel, Kagome blinked wildly. "Myrtle?"

The ghost that normally haunted the first floor bathroom pointed down the pathway that led to a separate set of sinks, and slowly began to drift into the floor beneath her. "I was just watching," she said. "It was marvelous! But… he hurt him. He's already so alone, and now he must feel like the entire world is trying to—"

The Gryffindor girl was already moving toward the area where the ghost had suggested she go. Myrtle's voice drifted around the quiet hanging heavily in the room, causing her to pick up her pace when her heart kicked itself into a fury. There were very few people that could cause such a reaction out of Harry Potter.

"—tear him a part."

She stopped at the edge of the circular room, staring at the water lapping against her feet. The world seemed to slow when she glanced up and to the right, her pupils shrinking when she caught sight of the crimson liquid mingling with the crystal blue and stretching toward her with each passing second.

Her heart nearly stopped when she finally saw him, and so she screamed.

"Draco!"

Note: This one got a little carried away with itself. ^_^;;;