The Valley of the Shadow of Death

A/N: I couldn't find a smooth way to fit this definition into the story. I hate reading stories where there are long in-depth descriptions of information that the POV-character takes for granted (it would be like writing a non-HP story where the narrative stops for a detailed definition of "car.") So I'm just going to explain my definitions here...

According to the way I picture things for the purpose of this story, there are an almost-infinite number of different "planes," only one of which (the mortal plane) we all exist in. We cannot perceive anything that exists outside of our own plane.

The exception to this rule is "Mediums," who exist simultaneously on all planes, and can therefore interact with things on other planes - primarily ghosts who haven't yet found their way back to our plane.

When a person dies, if they become a ghost, they generally end up in a completely random plane, which may be ours, but that's statistically unlikely. Those that don't end up on our plane in the first place must find their way back - which takes decades, plus the help of a trained and experienced Medium, who knows how to pull the ghost back into our plane. This is not an easy thing for the Medium to do, plus it takes several years of training and experience to learn how.

Incidentally, in addition to the plane a ghost is on, ghosts also come in two varieties; bound and unbound. Bound ghosts are bound to a particular location, and cannot leave, while unbound ghosts are... not. The ratio is about 50/50. Nobody knows why some ghosts are bound and others not.

Until the ghost can return to our plane, they can follow things going on in the mortal plane, but are completely unable to interact with anything or anybody (except Mediums). They (the ghosts, that is) may be able to possess all or part of a Medium (this is considerably easier if the Medium is cooperating), and they can talk to Mediums, but that's it.

Mediums generally split their existence into all the other planes (not generally a smooth process), towards the end of puberty.

Mediums are extremely rare, so much so that once a person is discovered as a Medium, they pretty much have no choice but to make it their profession. Professional Mediums are very valued in the wizarding community - by most people, that is.

---Begin Chapter---

Draco stopped dead in his tracks, then slowly turned to face the ghost. "What? No I'm not."

The ghost looked at him incredulously for a moment, then snorted. "Draco, when I watched you growing up here, there were many, many things that I thought of you - but 'stupid' was never one of them." And without another word, the ghost turned and exited through the back wall of the sitting room.

Draco stood where he was for several moments, mouth hanging open, horrified. He wasn't a Medium. He couldn't be a Medium. No Malfoy ever had any kind of psychic talent - it was beneath them. Mediums were highly useful people to have around, but no Malfoy would ever become one!

Not to mention, he'd heard the same horror stories as everyone else, about Mediums who were constantly tailed by ghosts who wanted something from them, until they were no longer able to hold a conversation with regular people for all the distractions. Mediums were infamous for going to gatherings and holding animated conversations with nobody. Professionally, they were revered. Socially, they were usually shunned... considered eccentric at best, insane at worst. A lot of Mediums actually were insane.

That wasn't him. There had to be some other explanation. This ghost must have found his way to their plane, without realizing it.

But then, why did his singing not wake Mother? asked a treacherous voice. He shrugged it off. For all he knew, this whole thing was some kind of potion-induced nightmare (he wouldn't put it past Hatchins' potions) - he shouldn't fret over it any longer.

Thus satisfied, he turned and snuck back up to bed.

When Draco woke the next morning, he once again had to make a mad rush to the bathroom to be sick into the toilet.

"Draco, are you all right?" came his mother's worried voice from outside the room.

"Yes, Mother." Draco would dearly have loved to point out to his parents, once again, that he would be feeling much better if he didn't have to take the potions Hatchins prescribed, but he vividly remembered the last time he tried to say that to his father, and he wasn't particularly eager to repeat that experience.

He really was not looking forward to the Hogwarts Express tomorrow morning. At least Potter and gang always stayed at Hogwarts over Christmas, so none of them would be on the train.

"Remember to take your potions before coming down to breakfast," said his mother before she left. Draco wanted to scream, but the thought of breakfast sent him on another retching fit.

After a few minutes, he felt better, and stood, reluctantly took the potions he was assigned for the morning (including the black frothy one, which tasted like hot peppers), got dressed, and went downstairs to breakfast.

"Did you take your potions?" his father immediately asked, with a stern look.

"Yes, Father," Draco answered, deliberately petulantly. His father didn't care for that tone of voice, he knew, but illness always made Draco feel reckless. It was the potions' bloody fault he was feeling ill.

His father frowned and gave him a penetrating look. He got out his wand and motioned Draco to come over and open his mouth for the Revelo Elixir spell. Thus satisfied that Draco was telling the truth, he motioned to the breakfast table to indicate that Draco should sit and eat.

Draco was on his way to the table when the ghost from the night before floated through the wall.

"Hello Draco," he said with a rather malicious smile. Draco watched, slightly horrified, as his mother entered the room and walked right through him, without even a shudder from the usual cold that comes across one when accidentally walking through a ghost. He glanced at his father, who also quite obviously didn't see the ghost.

No... It couldn't be true. This had to be some kind of nightmare. He was not a Medium.

"Have a good night's sleep?" asked the ghost, grin widening.

It wasn't a nightmare. It was real. Oh, Merlin... what did I ever do to deserve this?

"What? Cat got your tongue?"

"Draco, sit!" said his father.

Should he tell them? As he obediently sat at the table, deliberately not looking at the ghost, he considered their probable reactions. His mother probably wouldn't know what to think - she'd probably be torn between pride and shame. His father would probably react much the same way. But either way, if his parents knew, then other people would eventually be told as well...

Starting with Lord Voldemort. While his father might be concerned about the social stigma associated with being a Medium, this would not stop him from telling Voldemort - who would most likely be delighted. It was pretty much a given that Draco would eventually join the Death Eaters, and as a Medium, he could petition ghosts to spy for him. The chances of the ghosts' discovery would be almost nil - there were perhaps three Mediums in all of Britain. And most of the ghosts would be more than willing to do it - ghosts from other planes were notorious for being so desperate to have somebody they could talk to, that once they found a Medium they'd do anything for his favor. Oh yes indeed, as a Medium among Voldemort's ranks, Draco would be a very good... tool.

What a horrifying thought. This was not the way Draco wanted to be known.

No. Voldemort could never know about this. Which meant his parents could never know about this. Nobody could ever know about this! The second anybody found out about this - his life would be over.

He was just going to have to ignore any ghosts he came across. The ghost he was currently faced with would probably be hardest, since he already knew Draco could see him. Any other ghosts wouldn't know, so all Draco would have to do was not look at them, and they would be none the wiser.

Once he'd decided not to reveal what he could see, though, it became distinctly harder to do. The ghost, seeing Draco's determination to ignore him, responded by planting his rump right in the middle of Draco's breakfast. Draco continued eating, repeating the mantra, he's not real. He's a ghost. What's more, he's a ghost that doesn't even exist on your plane. He has no effect on your breakfast.

"Draco, Draco, Draco," the ghost said. "You really think you can just ignore me?" Yes, thought Draco, continuing with his meal. "I've been stuck in this house for 32 years, and I've finally found a Medium, and you think I'm going to let you just ignore me?" Draco immediately latched onto the knowledge that the ghost had been 'stuck' - apparently it was a bound ghost, unable to leave the house. Thank you, Merlin, for small favors! This meant that it would not be following Draco to Hogwarts tomorrow, a prospect that had been frankly terrifying Draco since he'd arrived at the conclusion that nobody could know.

The ghost grinned. "I wonder what your parents would say if you suddenly started, say, throwing food..." It came closer.

No. No, no, no, no, no. This was a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare. It wouldn't dare possess him!

Draco wasn't about to sit and find out, though. "I apologize, Mother, I'm not feeling well," he said automatically as he hurriedly got up and left the room, pretending not to hear her calling after him.

As expected, the ghost followed him up to his room. Once Draco shut the door, he rounded on the ghost. "You will stay the hell away from me," he hissed.

"Or you'll... what?" the ghost asked, feigning innocence.

Good point... Draco had no idea. He knew that there were ways for Mediums to force a ghost to stay away, but he had no idea how it was done - it wasn't a skill that was generally taught. So, as he usually did when he had no idea what else to do, he bluffed. Folding his arms and smirking at the ghost, he said, "can I ask you something? I assume you're bound to this house..." he waited for confirmation, which came reluctantly. "Then what happens when I come home for the spring holidays? You do realize the first thing I do when I get back to school, is I'll learn how to perform exorcisms..." Actually, now that he'd said it, that didn't sound like a half-bad idea...

In just about every respect, unbound ghosts were far luckier than bound ones, and this was no exception. If one exorcized an unbound ghost from a particular location, it would simply move to another location. If one exorcized a bound one, however, it would get relegated to a kind of permanent limbo. This was the main reason nobody had ever exorcized Peeves... the kind-hearted (*cough* stupid *cough*) Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors (mostly the Hufflepuffs) were reluctant to doom Peeves to that fate.

He was sure that the ghost would have paled if it could have. "You wouldn't..."

Draco smiled at the ghost. "I thought you said you knew me," he said in his best confident drawl. "I repeat... you will stay the hell away from me. You will not trouble me, you will not even stay in the same room as me, and you will not even think of possessing me for a second, is that understood?" he finished, still smiling. The ghost stared at him for a long moment, visibly frustrated, before nodding. "Good," said Draco. "Now, remember what I said about not staying in the same room as me? That starts now." He nodded at the wall separating his room from the hallway. The ghost stared at him for a moment longer, chewing the inside of his lip, until Draco glared at him, smile gone, and whispered, "Now." The ghost turned and left without a word.

Draco smiled once the ghost had gone. Well, that actually went pretty well. If all continued to go well, he would remain undisturbed until he left for Hogwarts tomorrow.

The next day, he gratefully grabbed the portkey to Platform 9 ¾ , accompanied by his parents (who after all needed to show themselves to be supportive parents) and a house elf to carry the trunk, very grateful to get out of the house. There had indeed been no further appearances by the ghost, although he did see another unfamiliar one drift by at one point. Draco simply ignored that one, and it passed in and out of the room without really noticing him. But he was glad to get out... he kept worrying that the hostile ghost was going to realize at any moment, that Draco didn't know his name, and one cannot perform an exorcism without knowing the name of the ghost.

Not to mention, he was glad to leave before he started feeling better, and his father decided it would be safe to punish him for his attitude of the last couple days. He couldn't do this while Draco was vomiting at random intervals - unlike many Death Eaters, Lucius Malfoy was not a sadist, and he wouldn't put Draco in a full body-bind if there were any chance Draco could exsanguinate.

The portkey nearly did him in. He managed to keep from passing out once he arrived, and he somehow (thankfully) made his way to the restroom in the platform and into the privacy of a toilet stall before becoming sick. He very nearly missed the departure, and spent most of his time on te train locked in the bathroom - half because he needed the toilet, and half so he wouldn't reveal to the entire train that Draco Malfoy was very sick and therefore fair game to anybody who wished to hex him.

Once Draco arrived at Hogwarts, he immediately headed for the Slytherin dormitories, thankfully not running into Potter or anybody else he would rather not have seen along the way. He skipped dinner in the Great Hall that evening, not particularly caring whether anybody noticed his absence. If anything, he was feeling worse today than he had felt the day before, and he didn't think he could handle the thought of food.

The next morning, he wasn't feeling all that much better, but he needed to go to class... his first class was Charms, and he couldn't afford to miss that. So, gathering Crabbe and Goyle around him (his father had arranged with their parents that Crabbe and Goyle should always be with him outside of the dormitories. It actually worked out quite nicely; Draco got two big people flanking him at all times, which made people think twice about attacking him, and Crabbe and Goyle got somebody to lead them to classes, since they were rather prone to getting lost), Draco headed off to class. He figured he could get through one complete class without becoming sick.

Or at least that was the plan. Unfortunately, he ran into Potter and gang about halfway to class, as they were heading toward whatever class the Gryffindors were taking at the time. This, in and of itself, wasn't so bad - most of the time, Draco quite enjoyed their little "encounters," as he called them. But not today... today was a very bad day. Potter was absolutely the last person he wanted to see when he felt like he could barely hold himself upright, let alone hold his own in a fight.

And to make matters far worse, there was a ghost in the hallway with them. Draco had completely forgotten about the ghosts, so he found himself staring at her for a moment. She had long hair and looked like she was in her mid-twenties - rather pretty. She seemed disappointed with the way things were going in the hallway - she certainly wasn't the only one in that respect.

Draco, you idiot! Don't look at her! She'll catch you! He forced himself to focus on Potter instead.

"Malfoy," Potter said, looking at him in disdain.

"Potter," Draco said, purposely mimicking Potter's tone of voice. Move on, Potter. Move on, Potter...

The ghost looked at Draco, then at Potter, then looked away, muttering, "Not again..." Don't look at the ghost, Draco! Don't listen to her! Draco ground his back teeth together and stared determinedly at Potter, wondering if it were technically possible for there to be a worse time for this to happen.

"You're here," Potter was saying. "We thought maybe you'd left." He sounded severely disappointed.

Could this day get any worse? Dimly he realized that Potter had just said something and a comeback was required. Under normal circumstances, Draco would have had no troubles coming up with one - but these were not normal circumstances. Right at the moment, part of his mind was screaming, Ignore the ghost! Another part of his mind was reminding him that he must pay attention to what was going on. Still another part of his mind was informing him that if he didn't get to a bathroom soon, he was going to be sick right here in front of Potter and gang, and the last rational part of his mind was telling him that, no matter what, Potter must not find out about any of this!

All of which left him with precious little brainpower to devote to arguing with Potter. So he settled on the usual backup plan:

"Potter, I'm really not in the mood. Don't you three have anything better to do?" Damn it! He hated doing that, especially on purpose. He'd just handed Potter the perfect exit insult on a platter - but it was an exit insult, used only when exiting, so if Potter took it, he'd pretty much have no choice but to leave.

The ghost's eyebrows went up, and she looked at Draco in some surprise. Damn it, Draco! Don't look at the ghost! Draco's eyes shot back to Potter.

Weasley's eyebrows also went up, and his mouth twisted into a sneer. "Good point, Malfoy," he said. "We do have better things to do than stand here with you. Many, many better things." And with that, he strode past Draco in the hallway, making sure to bump Draco's shoulder as he passed. Normally, this would have constituted a challenge which must be taken, but Draco was so relieved to escape this nightmarish situation, that he just couldn't bring himself to care.

Crabbe seemed about to take Weasley up on his challenge on his own, but stopped at Draco's, "Let's go." As he turned the corner, though, he heard Granger's voice behind him as she spoke to Potter and Weasley.

"Did... Malfoy seem a little..."

"Weird?" prompted Potter. Draco, standing around the corner where they couldn't see him, scowled.

"Well, I was going to say 'distracted,' but, yeah... I wonder what's going on?" Damn it - he'd gotten Granger curious. Well, that answered his earlier question about whether this day could get any worse... He was going to have to do some serious damage control.

But later. Right now, he needed to get to the bathroom, then get to Charms.