Author's Note: This work was originally posted to my account on AO3.

Tags on AO3: Post-Canon, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Deathly Hallows, Post-Deathly Hallows AU, Haunting, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Gen or Pre-Slash, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Angst and Humor, Domestic Fluff, Wakes & Funerals, Side Effects, 5+1 Things, Oblivious Harry Potter, 5+ AU Headcanons, POV Third Person Limited, POV Harry Potter, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, Master of Death Harry Potter, Creepy

TELL ME WHETHER HE IS DEAD

6) Haunted

They relocate to the dining room, where Ron can anxiously putter about the kitchen and serve them tea as though that'll fix things. Harry sits down at the small dining table, staring wide-eyed at Hermione, as though just staring at her will explain what the hell is going on.

"I'm... I'm haunting the apartment?" Harry asks finally.

Ron, standing at the kitchen counter, and Hermione, sitting across from him, exchange one of their looks. Harry has seen them exchange a lot of looks over the past week. He knew something was coming his way, but this?

"You're always cold, mate," Ron says, first.

"The lights thing happens when you enter and exit rooms," Hermione adds.

"You smell like strange things sometimes? For no reason?"

"Perfume, usually. Sometimes wet dog."

"Everything creaks around you."

"Or slams. Twice."

"You have weird shadows, sometimes? Like with two heads... or wings... or just... bones once," Ron says, with a faint shudder. "Or no shadow at all, more than once. A lot, actually."

"And you don't have reflections anymore," Hermione points out, with a very pointed sort of look.

"Only sometimes!" Harry protests weakly. "Not... all the time."

"Like when it's just your eyes glowing like the Killing Curse?" Ron says, pouring tea for the three of them. "Like you told us yesterday? Mate, that's not better. That's really, really not better."

Harry wants to protest, but... he really can't. He definitely would rather see no reflection at all than see that again.

"Sometimes your eyes glow like the A.K., too," Ron adds.

Harry looks between his best friends, confused and maybe a little bit terrified. Ron and Hermione look even worse than he feels, which makes him feel even worse about this whole thing.

"What... what else?" Harry asks.

"The other day, on the couch, after you left the room, I could still feel your arm around me for half-an-hour," Hermione admits. "And sometimes your voice keeps talking after you've stopped... or even after you've left the room. Just... like random little things... Quidditch talk... recipes... grocery lists... mostly Quidditch talk, actually."

Ron nods. "You reminded me not to leave the toilet seat up a few days ago, when you weren't even in the house. Just... your disembodied voice... scolding me in a whisper. Scared the hell out of me."

"Uh... sorry?" Harry has no memory of doing any of that.

"And you were always messing with the radio! I can't use Dad's housewarming gift because you were always messing with the switches or the volume!" Ron exclaims, setting the tea on the table for them. "Or you'd just make it do the static thing if you were in the room!"

Harry never once touched that radio. Not once. "So... the radio's not actually broken?"

"Nah, you were fucking with it."

"Sorry."

"It's fine."

"Sometimes objects move or levitate around you," Hermione muses. "But... that's more normal magic."

"The entire living room?" Ron asks, taking a seat. "That's not normal."

Harry frowns. "When was this?"

"Usually when you're cooking. Singing too, usually."

"That one's not too bad," Hermione says.

"Yeah, it's kinda cute," Ron agrees, smiling towards Harry, before his tone turns more serious. "The bad stuff is when you talk in dead people's voices. You at least noticed that one, right, mate? I know that's happened a lot and at least Luna and Andy told you. I told you, I think."

"Yeah, you... did. Sorry."

Ron reaches across the table to take his hand, prompting Harry to look up from his lap and back at his best friends. There's still a bit of fear and uncertainty there, in both their expressions, but now there's quite a bit of sympathy and reassurance.

"It's not your fault," Ron says. "We know it isn't."

"Why... why is this happening to me?"

Hermione's hands fiddle nervously in her lap. "Well... we don't actually know. This has never happened before. You show a lot of symptoms or effects of, well, the undead."

Harry stares at her... and stares... and stares.

"...I'm dead?"

"No!" Hermione says, alarmed.

"Well, maybe a little bit," Ron corrects and Hermione thwaps him on the chest. "What? C'mon, 'Mione." He looks back towards Harry. "I think it's a side-effect of... whatever the fuck went down in the Forest with you... y'know..."

"Dying but not dying?" Harry suggests, a little hoarsely.

"Yeah. That."

"It could be," Hermione says. "We don't know for sure, though. Don't worry, Harry, we're going to figure this one out and help you."

"...Oh..." Harry says, still a little stunned. "Okay."

Ron and Hermone exchange another look between them, then Hermione reaches out so that her hands are covering both his and Ron's. Both of them look at him, a little afraid and very earnest, smiling as best they can. Harry smiles back, a little weakly.

"Okay," he says again.

Ron smiles widens and he says, "Good. And if you don't get better, we'll just keep learning to live with this. And you're gonna have to start wearing really thick socks to bed because your feet are fucking freezing."

"Ron!"

"Look, just because you don't sleep next to him doesn't mean it's not a serious problem!"

oOo

END

oOo

Author's Note: This honestly could have been SUCH angst. Or full of all sorts of complicated magic and classification. But I wanted a one-shot of Haunted!Harry as nonsense and fluff, so this is what happened. In the magical world, I imagine you just learn to roll with this sort of thing. "Oh yeah, that's Harry, he's sort of undead but we love him." Etc. This was such fun nonsense. I might write snippets for this universe in the future.