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The halls seemed endless, looming over Draco as he stumbled through Hogwarts. It was a tough fight to keep his sobs quiet so they wouldn’t echo. He gripped his forearm, the mark itching and burning. Really, he didn’t know where he was going. The fact that he was a danger to himself and everyone around him gripped him at the throat, it wasn’t safe to stay anywhere with other students. Luckily, he didn’t pass anyone but if he did, he doubted they would question his prefect status being the reason he was out after curfew. After twisting and turning through Hogwarts, he found himself on the second floor. Draco entered the girl’s bathroom, not caring to look at the sign.
He stumbled to the closest tap and leaned over it, wailing and coughing. He felt sick – he was sick. The neglect of self care was catching up to him. Nothing came up, he just stood there in pain, dry heaving. Totally unaware of the two big beady eyes glaring at him from behind. Myrtle kept her mouth shut as she watched him suffer. It wasn’t until Draco glanced up at the mirror that he saw her. With a scream, he turned to her and fell to the ground.
“Well that was dramatic.” Myrtle mumbled. “It’s not like I’m doing anything. I’m just minding my own business when some pretty prefect boy stumbles into my bathrooms.” She swayed in the air, looking down at him. Draco crawled back, whimpering and scratching at his arm. “A Slytherin boy... How funny. Did you choose my bathroom to throw up in on purpose?” She loomed in on Draco.
“Wh... What are you talking about?!” He cried, curling into a ball. “If I had known anyone would be in here I wouldn’t of come at all! Leave me alone...” Myrtle tilted her head, eyes wandering to his arm. “What did I just say?!”
“Are you hurt?” She cut him off. “Let me see.” Without much consideration, she closed the gap. “Go on. I won’t scream. I’ve seen a lot of blood and gore you know.” She giggled. Draco looked at her as if she was crazy. He’d never really payed attention to the rumours of Moaning Myrtle – the mudblood murdered in these bathrooms when the chamber was first opened. Of course he knew of her and such but... She wasn’t what he was expecting. “Come on!” Myrtle shouted, her hand passing through Draco’s arm.
“You want to look so bad?!” Draco scoffed. He wasn’t in his right mind at the moment, too caught up in his overwhelming situation. What was a ghost going to do? If it had her leave him alone, it was all the better. He pulled his sleeve up, the dark mark clear as day on his pale skin. Myrtle gasped and flew back. “Happy now?!”
“You’re... One of them...” Myrtle stared down at the mark from a distance. “But you’re a student... How?” To Draco’s surprise, she started to get closer again.
“He just... Called me up. Simple as that...” Draco sobbed.
“He-who-must-not-be-named...?”
“Who else?! You don’t get this shit from any old freak...”
There wasn’t much point in Myrtle feeling fear. After all, she was already dead. All she felt was sorrow and anger at her uncontrollable death. Seeing Draco writhing in pain and despair in front of her had her feel... Pity. No, she didn’t know who he was, all she knew was that he wasn’t in control, that much was beyond obvious. “... Does it hurt?” She floated down beside him.
“What?” Draco turned to her, pure confusion written all over him. “... That’s your question? You don’t... Think I’m a monster?”
“I’ve known monsters. A lot of them you can tell just by looking at them. That’s what I’ve found. They have tells, you see...” Myrtle wiggled in her place, looking closely at Draco. “They don’t normally seem sooo... Remorseful.” Draco’s shoulders trembled. “And also I’m pretty sure death eaters who are serious about what they’re doing don’t just flash their marks.”
“What are you trying to do?!” It made no sense to him, the Moaning Myrtle so famous for chasing people out of her bathroom with a scream wasn’t screaming her head off at a death eater.
“You didn’t want to become one, did you?” Myrtle’s voice was low and hushed. Draco sniffled, burying his head into his knees. “Ohhh...” Myrtle moved to try and look at his face. “So many secrets... So sad... I have a lot of secrets too.” Myrtle went on. “Nobody listens to poor little Moaning Myrtle... And look at you,” She attempted to tap him on the head but instead phased through, having Draco jerk up. “You’re just as pale as I am. Do people listen to that pointy face of yours?” Draco shook his head. Though it wasn’t that people didn’t listen... He just couldn’t tell people in the first place. “I knew it. Lonely boy~.” Myrtle hummed. “And what of your parents? Are they... Death eaters too? Oh! Are they dead?”
“They will be if I don’t do what he asked of me.”
Silence fell over the room, save for the leaky dripping taps. Myrtle blinked – perhaps she should take this more seriously. “You know... I can keep a secret.” Myrtle kept her voice low, eyes glued to Draco. “It’s weighing on you, I can see it from those big ugly bags under your eyes. I won’t tell a soul, no matter what it is.” Draco shook his head in response.
“No one can know... And besides, I’m almost certain you would tell.” He glanced over at her. Her presence was next to non-existent yet her stare was so powerful. Myrtle pouted, crossing her arms and “leaning” back against the wall.
“Tell who? The rats that scuttle through the stalls? The bloody leaky tap?!” Her voice raised as she shouted towards the tap. Just as quickly as she snapped at a bathroom tap, she calmed right back down into her normal haunting whisper. “Well, even if you don’t tell me that, there must be other things you can tell me, right?” She tapped her chin in thought. “How about your name?” Draco frowned at her, shuffling in his place as an attempt to stall.
“Draco Malfoy.” As soon as he said it, Myrtle let out a gentle exclamation, a high pitched hum. “... What was that?”
“You look just like your father. It makes sense now. Ahh, Malfoy... I remember him, always laughing and throwing books at me. Which is weird... You look so much like him but, you’re much more... Sentimental.” Draco wasn’t surprised at that, he could picture his father in his younger days making fun of this pitiful ghost. If it were a year earlier, Draco would’ve done the same. “He’s a death eater then?”
“He’s in Azkaban.” Draco spat, his tongue like a blade. Myrtle simply made another noise. “... Did you know much about him when he was here?”
“Oh, not much. You don’t see much in a bathroom. I wonder if he ever got with that Black girl.” She twirled her hair with her finger.
“That’s my mother...” This casual talk of his parents between him and a ghost was oddly comforting. He sat up a bit, wanting to learn more. “How did you know about that?”
Myrtle giggled, “they did well then! What a funny image, such a pretty lady with such a clumsy boy!” Draco wanted to frown at her for the insult to his father but found himself almost laughing instead. Almost. “Ohh, people would come in here and gossip from time to time... I heard a little bit about your father’s biiig silly crush and how she had no idea!” She laughed once more. “That’s all though.” The thought of his father uselessly chasing around his mother had Draco smile weakly. Narcissa had told him one or two stories from their time at Hogwarts, he recalled the warmth of them sitting by the fire as they chatted and waited for his father to arrive home... Draco sniffled at the thought. He had to do it for them. He had to. Myrtle whined, “awww, you miss them, don’t you?” The whine quickly turned into a giggle.
“Of course I do. My mother is at home, completely alone and afraid... The Manor is hell right now. Every corner has a few goddamn Death Eaters lurking...” As if navigating an empty Malfoy Manor wasn’t haunting enough. Draco felt nauseous thinking about going back during break, having to sit through more horrible meetings. The image of Voldemort sitting at the head of the table staring him down had his heart race and throat close up in fear. Not to mention how the Manor may as well not be owned by his family anymore – since Lucius was sent to Azkaban, Death Eaters used it as a second home, to parade around and ruin as they please. “And father... He could die in Azkaban at any moment...”
“Hmm,” Myrtle looked to the ceiling in thought. “You must be tired.” Draco turned to glare at her, irritated that that was all she had to say. “What? Don’t talk to me like I can fix all of your problems.” She glared back. “I’m listening though, aren’t I?” Draco looked back to the floor, eventually giving a weak nod. “See~! Doesn’t it feel nice?”
“Why are you talking to me like this?” Draco settled his head on his knees.
“Why not? It’s not like I have anything else to do. Am I not enough for you?!” Myrtle gasped angrily, floating up to lurk around Draco.
“You’re exhausting.”
“... Why are you smiling?!” Myrtle hissed. Draco was in fact smiling ever so slightly, a weak smile that matched his exhausted eyes. There wasn’t a way he could really tell Myrtle that he appreciated her listening to him and treating him like a normal student. Instead, he playfully jabbed at her, hoping somehow he’d get himself across to her.
“I need to leave.” He looked towards the door, legs stretching out.
“What? You’re just going to leave me?!” Myrtle glared.
“It’s ages past curfew,” he shrugged, “sorry but I’m not having a sleepover.” With that, he stood. Myrtle looked up at him, dejected.
“Fine then!” She shrieked, soaring up to hover above the fountain. “Leave and don’t say goodbye!” Draco rolled his eyes at her, walking to the door. Just as he reached it, he turned to Myrtle.
“Thanks Myrtle. See you later.” The door shut behind him before Myrtle could respond. Myrtle sighed, sinking into the fountain. See you later... Implying he was coming back? She glared at the door. “What a weirdo,” they both thought.