Ghost Of Love

Warm autumn sunlight filtered through the window of the seventh-year Gryffindor Boys' Dormitory. It landed on the sleeping face of one Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, who had forgotten to close the curtains around his bed.

Harry woke with a massive groan, which only served to drive home the sheer size of his hangover. Rolling over, Harry realised that Ron was still sound asleep as, despite not closing his curtains also, the sun was nowhere near his sleeping face. Harry smiled. Ron looked so peaceful until, that is, Harry reached over and poked him with his wand, out of a perverse need for someone to share his misery with.

Ron shot upright, only to collapse again as the pain in his head made itself known. "My God, Harry," Ron mumbled. "What did we do last night?"

Harry grimaced. "All that I remember is that we got very, very drunk."

"I was afraid that was what we did." Ron covered his face with his hands trying to keep out all forms of light and fresh air. "Hermione and Sorcha will kill us when they find out."

"There's no reason why they should find out, and even if they do it's none of their business."

Ron looked over at Harry with bleary eyes. "Do you honestly believe that we'll be able to hide a hangover as massive as this one?" Collapsing back on the bed and reburying his head, he added, "Of course it's Sorcha's business what I do; I'm getting married to her." A look of wonder materialised on his face. "Harry, I'm getting married."

Harry grinned, despite the somersaults his stomach was turning. "I know, mate, I can't believe it either."

"Harry, will you be my best man? It'd mean a lot to me."

"Of course I will. I was sort of hoping you'd ask, but I didn't know if maybe you wanted one of your brothers to do it." Harry smiled.

"One of that lot? Why on earth... Oh Christ, Harry, what time is it?" asked Ron, looking frantically round for his watch, which seemed to have vanished overnight.

Harry peered at his own watch. "It's quarter to nine, why?"

"We're going to be late for class, that's why!"

"Bugger!" said Harry, forcing his stomach to settle as he grabbed for his clothes. "Why didn't the others wake us? It's Transfiguration too, McGonagall will kill us." Without stopping for a shower or breakfast, the two invalids pulled their robes on and ran.

Harry and Ron burst into the Transfiguration classroom at precisely 9:12 a.m.

"Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, so kind of you to grace us with your presence," said McGonagall. "Five points each from Gryffindor for being late, and detention for entering my classroom while smelling like a brewery. I suggest you take some seats near the window so as not to distract the other students." Turning from the two embarrassed young men, the professor continued with her lesson.

Harry and Ron took their seats quickly. "As I was saying," continued McGonagall, "the differences between transfiguring an animate and inanimate object are threefold..." Harry tuned the professor out as he stared out the window, relying on Hermione to take notes. He could see various students with free periods wandering about the grounds, playing various wizarding and Muggle games and studying in the warm autumn sun. Harry wished he was out there with them, napping beneath a tree, sleeping his hangover away.

Harry caught a glimpse of telltale blond locks among the students outside. He squinted to get a better look as Draco moved closer to the school. Was that Sorcha he was walking with? Harry guessed that Draco's Sixth-Year-Slut was still in class; probably Double Potions with the Gryffindors. Harry hoped that Snape was giving them a really hard time, and making Connall's life a misery. 'Probably too much to ask,' Harry thought bitterly, 'Snape'll be favouring the Slytherins as usual.'

Harry wondered what Draco was talking to Sorcha about. 'Maybe he's asking about the best way to dump his slut.' thought Harry, who realised that he was engaging in some serious wishful thinking; after all, Sorcha was the aforementioned Slut's sister. As he watched the pair walk across the grounds, Harry had a nagging thought that there was something he should remember about Draco. He had a really bad feeling that it also involved last night; maybe Draco had spoken to him. If so Harry had forgotten it. He made a mental note to ask Draco about it after Herbology that afternoon.

Harry's thoughts drifted until the lesson was finally over. Gathering together his unused parchment and quills, Harry joined Ron and Hermione as they left for their next class. Hermione made a face and fanned the air in front of her nose, as Harry fell into step beside her. "And what exactly were you two up to last night? As if I need to ask," she said.

Harry smiled. "We were celebrating, of course. We would have asked you to join us, but it was sort of a man thing." Hermione snorted at that, but Harry ignored her; he already knew her feelings on sexism and the like, and really wasn't feeling up to an argument with her. "Ron, I have this nagging feeling that something happened with Draco last night," said Harry worriedly. "I don't suppose you would remember what it was?"

Ron looked past Hermione to Harry. "Mate, I can barely remember which class we've just come from," he said incredulously. "I'm hardly likely to remember what we did last night."

"I just thought it may have happened before you got too drunk to remember."

Ron's brow furrowed in thought. "Ok, I remember us finishing the Butterbeers and you revealing your little secret..." Hermione nearly choked at that. "A bottle of Tequila," he added hurriedly. "After that, I just have these fuzzy memories about lying on the floor giggling... In a manly way of course," he told Hermione who was looking increasingly disgusted with the pair of them. "Sorry, mate, no Draco. Are you sure you didn't imagine it?"

"Of course I'm not sure! I remember even less than you do about last night. It's just a nagging feeling." Harry shrugged. "It's probably nothing, if it was really important he wouldn't have told me when I was drunk anyway."

The trio reached the Muggle Studies classroom and said goodbye to Hermione, before Harry and Ron continued on to Divination, chatting about how Harry would meet his gruesome end this week.

The three reunited in front of Herbology Greenhouse number three, and joined the other seventh-year Gryffindors and Slytherins, the timetables having been conveniently changed at the start of sixth-year. Harry and Ron had used a free period in between classes to finally get a shower, and both smelt much better. "So how are you going to die this week Harry?" asked Hermione by way of greeting.

Harry grinned. "Apparently I'm going to catch some horrible disease which will cause my head to pound, the room to spin and my stomach to turn inside out, before being vomited up."

"I think I've already got it," groaned a rather green-looking Ron, who staggered round the side of the greenhouse to throw up.

"What's wrong with him?" asked Hermione. "He can't be that hung-over."

"We stopped by the kitchen on the way here 'cause we'd missed breakfast," explained Harry, who was starting to feel a little ill himself. "Turns out Ron's hangover has a major problem with bacon rolls."

Hermione was about to make a suitably scathing remark when Professor Sprout opened the door to the greenhouse and asked the class to come in.

Once more Harry found himself grateful for Hermione's note taking skills as Draco's blond locks, yet again, distracted him. He knew he should be paying attention. After all, The-Boy-Who-Lived should know which plants can be used in medical emergencies, but Draco was just so alluring. The sun shining through the greenhouse glass brought out the silver in Draco's blond hair and once more Harry's fingers twitched with desire. He wanted to comb his fingers through the blond locks and follow the line of his spine down to that luscious arse, where his fingers also itched to go.

Caught up in his gazing, Harry was surprised by an elbow jabbing him in the side. Glancing round he realised that the class had finished and everyone was packing their things away. Leaving Ron to put away his books for him, Harry hurried to catch Draco who was heading out the door.

"Draco, wait!"

Draco turned to look coldly at Harry. "What do you want, Potter? I've got things to do."

"Can I walk you to lunch?" asked Harry. "I want to talk to you about something."

"If this is going to be one of those heartfelt talks about your feelings and all that nonsense, then forget it." Draco turned and walked out the greenhouse. Harry caught up and fell into step beside him.

"Don't worry, it's not about my feelings, or yours for that matter. I just wanted to ask you something."

"Ask away," said Draco without breaking his stride.

"Did you come and see me last night?"

Draco let out a short bark of laughter. "I knew you wouldn't remember. You never remember anything when you've been drinking."

"You did come then?"

"You know you really shouldn't drink if you can't handle it, Potter."

Harry stopped Draco with his hand. "What did we speak about?" he asked.

Draco looked down at the shorter boy. "I told you last night that if you didn't remember, you weren't to come running to me. It's not my fault that you don't remember."

"Why are you being like this, Draco? I only want to know what we talked about. Did I do something to upset you last night?" asked Harry looking up at Draco with puppy-dog eyes.

Draco smiled coldly. "No, Harry, you did nothing to upset me last night. And stop with the puppy eyes, they don't work with me any more. Now, if you'll excuse me, my lunch is getting cold."

Harry's eyes narrowed as the Slytherin turned his back on him and walked into the school. There was no way he was going to let Draco get away with treating him like that. They both had a free period after lunch; he would get Draco then. His mind made up, Harry continued into the school.

Ron and Hermione watched as Harry strode purposefully into Hogwarts. "I wonder if Malfoy knows what's in store for him," mused Hermione.

"I doubt it," muttered Ron. "Do you think Harry'll ever let go?"

"Eventually, but I think we're going to have to lend a helping hand."

"You said yesterday that we should stay out of it!" cried Ron indignantly.

"I know, but I'm starting to change my mind. They're going to end up really hurting each other." Hermione rubbed her hands together. "Right, this calls for a plan of action. After lunch we'll draw one up." She set off towards the school.

Groaning, Ron followed her. "Hermione, is this plan going to call for the use of colour coding?"

She nodded, completely serious. "And footnotes."

Wondering what he had done to deserve this, Ron followed his friend into Hogwarts.