When Draco Met Myrtle

Draco walked down the corridor with death on his mind. It seemed like that was all he thought about anymore. But what else was there to think about? Life? What life? Draco was a dead man any way he looked at it. Should he succeed in killing Dumbledore... Death by Aurors. Should he fail... Death by the Dark Lord. There was no bright side to his situation.

Stressfully, Draco sighed, bowing his head. He involuntarily sucked in his breath as a feeling of fire against his left forearm spread up his arm to his shoulder and down to the tips of his fingers. Every day now it would begin to burn with such fury that Draco often felt like someone was pressing a hot iron against his arm.

Pulling up his sleeve, he saw that, again, the Dark Mark was burning red. It meant that The Dark Lord was angry, angry with him of course. He was used to seeing it that way, but he knew he could never get used to the unbearable pain.

Draco looked up and spotted two lowly Hufflepuffs heading in his direction from down the corridor. He pulled down his sleeve before they could spot it. Draco, who was already in a foul mood, had no interest in associating with Hufflepuffs and made a sharp left into the boys' bathroom.

Luckily, the bathroom was empty. Draco pulled out his wand and pointed at the door handle. 'Colloportus,' he muttered and pocketed his wand.

Running his fingers swiftly through his hair, he looked in the mirror. The boy looking back at him looked only slightly like himself. An older, more frail version, perhaps, but not the same boy that he was last year.

The pain in his arm began to worsen and Draco grabbed it, clutching it to his chest. 'Bloody Hell...' He squeezed his eyes shut painfully. 'It must be done soon, Draco,' a voice in his head hissed.

The snakelike face of the Dark Lord burned on the inside of his eyelids and Draco snapped his eyes open. Little droplets of tears were forming at the corners of his eyes and cold sweat was now dripping down his forehead.

Wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his robes, Draco slumped down onto the floor. 'Just kill me,' he said, new tears forming in his eyes. 'Death can't be that bad...'

'Oh, it's dreadful,' a high-pitched female voice said.

Draco scrambled to his feet, pulling out his wand. 'Who's there? What do you want?' He thought for a moment and a better question came to mind. 'What are you doing in the boys' lavatory?'

A ghost came out from behind the first cubicle. Draco thought she might have been rather pretty had she gotten rid of her glasses and brushed her hair, but he didn't let her know that.

'What are you doing here?' he growled.

'Thinking about death,' the ghost said in an almost happy voice. Draco blinked at her. He was surprised that he could actually relate to her thoughts. 'What are you doing in here?'

'This is the boys' bathroom,' he said awkwardly. 'I came in to - er -'

'You were crying,' the ghost said.

Damn, Draco thought. He had been caught. 'You're not going to tell anyone, are you, I mean, about me crying, especially in a bathroom?' he said hopefully.

The ghost giggled. 'No,' she said, swooping past him and sitting on the edge of the sink. 'I know all about bathrooms. I used to go there to cry too. I even died in a bathroom, down on the second floor. No one ever goes in there now. Harry used to visit me, but -'

'Potter?' Draco said, a smile playing at is lips at the thought of Potter hanging out with a ghost.

The little ghost nodded. 'I thought he liked me, but I haven't seen him in ages,' she complained, transparent tears filling her misty eyes.

'Lucky you,' Draco muttered grimly. 'You still haven't told me why you're here exactly.'

'I was just looping about the S-bends when I heard someone in here,' she said with a smile. 'I haven't talked to anyone in ages.'

'Me neither,' Draco said darkly. He glanced over at the door, wondering why he was still talking to a ghost.

'I'm Moaning Myrtle,' the ghost girl said abruptly.

'I'm Draco Malfoy,' he said awkwardly.

'Draco, why were you crying?' Myrtle asked.

'None of your business,' he said sharply, turning away from her.

'Oh,' Myrtle said simply. 'Well, I guess I'll be going then.' She flew in front of him and Draco's eyes followed her to the cubicle that she had come from.

'Wait!' Draco's mouth reacted faster than his brain. Myrtle spun around and stared at him. 'I guess I could use someone to talk to,' he said slowly.

Her face broke into a smile as she swooped back over to the edge of the sink. 'What do you want to talk about?' she asked.

Draco glanced sideways, knowing that it sounded a bit odd to talk about, 'Death.'

'Oh my....' She whispered shrilly. 'That's a dreadful topic.'

'Yes,' Draco agreed, but he had to know. 'Does it hurt? To die, I mean?'

'No, of course not,' Myrtle said. 'One moment you're just standing there, crying because people are making fun of you, and the next minute... it's all over and you're free to haunt them as you please...' The dreaminess from her voice faded away, followed by harsh words. 'Until the Ministry forces you to stop and you spend the rest of your afterlife in the S-bends, pondering how your life would have turned out if you hadn't died...'

Draco smiled amusedly at the ghost's little story. 'You're not helping.'

'Well, what did you want me to tell you?' she asked sharply.

'Tell me that being dead is better than being alive. Tell me that after I'm gone I won't have to deal with...him making me to do something that I can't do. Tell me something will go right after I'm gone,' Draco said, tears forming in his eyes.

'You're bullied too?' Myrtle said sympathetically.

'Something like that.' Draco stared away from her anxiously.

'How wonderful,' Myrtle said a bit too happily for the given topic.

'Good to know that I have your sympathy,' Draco chuckled.

'I was bullied in school,' Myrtle explained. 'Olive Hornby used to tease me about my glasses. It was awful. And then the day I died... oh, how she paid... I haunted her for so long.'

Draco found it amusing how someone could find being made fun of so horrible when he was facing death head-on.

'Tell me about yourself, Draco,' Myrtle said. 'It gets so dull telling people about my sad story.'

'My Lord wants me to do something that I can't do,' Draco said quietly. 'He knows I can't so it, but if I don't, he'll...' Draco couldn't bring himself to tell the poor little ghost that he would be murdered.

'He'll kill you, won't he?' Myrtle assumed.

Draco nodded. He hated the very thought. Tears began to form again in his eyes. 'I don't want to die, Myrtle,' he whispered.

Myrtle scooted up next to him and an uncomfortable cold swept over the left side of his body. 'It's OK, Draco,' she whispered.

'No,' Draco said, running a hand through his hair. 'It's not OK. He'll kill my mother and me. I just can't do it.'

'There, there,' Myrtle whispered, rubbing a cold, transparent hand over Draco's back.

Draco finally couldn't take the cold any longer and moved away, looking at his watch. 'Well, Myrtle,' he said, wiping his tears away, 'I better go back to the common room. My friends will notice I'm gone if I don't get back soon.'

'You will come back though, won't you?' Myrtle said before Draco could even reach for the door handle.

Draco considered telling her, 'no,' but he had actually... tolerated his visit with Myrtle, and it did help to talk to someone about everything that was happening. 'Sure,' he said. He turned to the door. 'Alohomora,' he said, pointing his wand at it. The door unlocked with a click, and Draco looked back at Myrtle once more. 'Good-bye, Myrtle.'

'Good-bye, Draco,' she called after him.

Draco wandered back down the corridors towards the Slytherin common room. Maybe death wouldn't be as bad as he thought. Myrtle seemed to enjoy it, even if she was a bit... distraught. And if he did die... he could always float along the S-bend with her.