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Draco frowned, leaning heavily on the sink. He stared into his reflection, studying his appearance. He had dark bags under his eyes and his face was more gaunt than it had ever been, making his already pointed features sharper than ever. He sighed heavily and ran his hands through his hair, slicking it back to mirror his older style. As soon as he removed his hands, it flopped back into his face, shadowing his eyes.
From behind him, a young girl's head popped out of one of the doors. "Oooh. More problems, Draco?" Moaning Myrtle floated out of the stall and rested her hands on Draco's slumped shoulders. By now, the teen was more than used to the chill of her touch, her restroom, of all places, had become a sanctuary for him. "Why don't you tell me? It always helps."
He didn't know why, but sometime last year, under all the stress that had been piled on him, he'd found himself needing someone he could talk to, and Myrtle had been a surprisingly sympathetic ear for him. Since that first time, he didn't know how many times he'd come here just to empty his thoughts and try to piece some semblance of order from his life.
"It's different," he started, unsure how to explain the situation. Myrtle waited patiently, her face set in interest. "There's a girl." Draco had to pause there as Myrtle giggled at him.
"There's always a girl," she said, hiding her smile behind transparent hands.
"But she's different. She's not faking it. I don't think anything happening because I'm Draco Malfoy, the Pureblood, the Death Eather. I think it might be just because I'm Draco." he scruffed his hair in annoyance, knowing how stupid and girlish he sounded. "I'm not saying it right, I know I'm not."
Draco slammed the side of his fist into the mirror. He didn't break it, he wasn't swinging hard enough for that. But it helped. "I don't think Ginny's like that. I don't think she'd be with someone because of their standing, or fuck someone because of their blood. It doesn't fit her."
"You mean Ginny Weasly?" Myrtle giggled again, swirling through the air around him. "Oh my, I never thought that I'd see you interested in a Weasly." Her tittering echoed through the bathroom, and surprisingly, the light teasing put Draco at ease.
"I don't know what it is about her, Myrtle. I see her, and I want her. I could have any other witch in this school at my beck and call without so much as the effort to say her name. But I don't want any of them. Not like I want her." It was hard, putting the thoughts to words. It made him feel vulnerable in ways that nothing else had.
"I see her burn, and I can't help but be drawn to it. Her hair, her neck. Her eyes feel like they burn through me, when I can get her to look at me." He shook his head again, disturbed by the puppy-like quality of his own words. "She's the one woman I can't touch, and I want nothing more than to hold her."
"Poor Draco," Myrtle tried to play with his hair, but her hands passed right through the blond locks, barely stirring them. "You don't know what you want anymore, do you? You want your fiery haired lioness, and you want to please the Dark Lord. You want to make your father proud." Coming from her, like that, it sounded whiny to him, like he was complaining just to complain. But she was right about one thing, he did want Ginny.
He managed a weary smile for Myrtle, "Thank you, Myrtle." The dead girl tittered again.
"Oh I don't mind, Draco. You're the only one that comes to visit me anymore. I like the company."
It was with a heavy heart and mussed hair that he left the girl's washroom he'd been pacing in and headed for the Slytherin common room. He would have Ginny Weasly. He would have his lioness.