Chaptire 7

His trip to Malfoy Manor had not been as productive as he would have liked. He ended up Apparating back to Hogwarts' gates and walking to the school in the middle of the night. Disappointment had taken over him and it made him even more tired than he'd originally been. Climbing into bed he wondered why all of this was affecting him so badly.

He'd sympathized with Potter and his situation, but he didn't really have a responsibility to rectify the situation. He found himself wondering whether it was even rectifiable. He noticed absently that he felt hungry. He couldn't remember feeling the urge to actually eat in a long time. He closed his eyes and summoned a house elf. After ordering a light dinner, he picked himself up and went to the bathroom to wash up.

He leaned against the sink counter and rubbed at his temples. He resolved to go back to the Manor and try again to look for something that could possibly help Potter. The sooner he found something, the sooner he could go back to his boring life.

Although he'd been to Malfoy manor since its pseudo-abandonment, he was still surprised at the state he'd found his home. His mind was sent reeling with childhood memories as he'd cast a cursory glance at his surroundings. Easily, the memories conflicted with the sight he'd been granted. Outwardly, his home had looked no different than when he'd last left it. He looked down at the water that was running off his body in red rivulets and frowned. When he'd stepped foot on the property a red liquid he dared not identify had fallen on him from nowhere. He took it to mean his family had been the blood-traitors and not the victims of Voldemort's short-lived reign.

It hurt to be confronted by his family's sins on his own property. There had been a logical reason for his avoidance of the place. The threat of being hit with hexes set up by Death Eater haters was nearly enough to cause him to leave. Looking back, he probably should have just left and given up but he'd been drawn back by some unnatural force. He was curious and no amount of hexes could thwart him from getting to his destination. The doorknob burned as he turned it; the spells working as they automatically unlocked the door for the heir. He closed the door behind him and allowed himself to be swamped in darkness.

It was dark. That thought was the first to surface from his mind. There was also the strong smell of dust and general oldness neglected houses tended to have. The air he breathed in was thick with dust and he hadn't even turned any lights on. He looked around as best he could within the darkness because, for some unfathomable reason, he hadn't the desire to turn on the lights. Perhaps his hesitation was rooted in his reluctance to view his once splendid home reduced to decay and age.

His mother had once kept the house decorated with the best furniture and the most expensive rugs, curtains, and antiques. Now it was practically empty with all he'd sold. Ironically, not many people were interested in buying anything that had once been in a Malfoy's possession and he'd had the hardest time getting rid of some things. What remained was covered in such a thick layer of dust his everything around him seemed gray or black depending on the original color.

When he'd climbed the stairs, his shoes hadn't made the squelching sound he'd expected. There was no creaking or groaning from the floors at all. Not a sound was heard and Draco could feel his heart rate speeding up as he got closer to his target. Reaching the door, he stood in front of it with a look of intense concentration on his face.

" Ergnas Orup," he murmured softly and dispassionately as he spoke the password.

When the library doors had opened, he stood face to face with the library that, in all his years, could never rival any other in expanse. During his childhood, he would have boasted about its vastness and brag about its contents but now he wrinkled his nose at the dust that covered every surface. It was then he decided that he could not begin his research here.

He sighed as he thought about the sack of shrunken books awaiting him in his sitting room. It was true that he couldn't do his research in the library because the clean-up alone would take days and he hadn't the time nor patience to add that chore to his list. Draco splashed cold water over his face and looked at his reflection. Turning away from the image of the shell of a man looking accusingly at him, he walked tiredly to his bedroom where his food was currently awaiting him.

--

That morning at breakfast (which he'd taken with his students for once) an owl landed in front of him and presented him with a letter. Draco, not used to receiving correspondence from anyone, thought that it might have been an error. He looked around the staff table to see if anyone recognized the owl but none even looked up from their plates. Though the staff table was almost empty, the professors had remained in their usual places, thus allowing the empty spaces to separate them from one another. Draco liked it this way, seeing as he no longer needed to talk with his coworkers in forced and insincere conversation.

An irritated hoot disturbed him from his thoughts and Draco looked at the bird with a curious gaze. "Are you sure you're looking for me? Draco Malfoy." He pointed to himself and raised an eyebrow at the bird. The brown owl hooted as she flapped her wings and knocked over his goblet. Draco sprang into action and removed the rolled up letter from the bird's leg as quickly as he could manage.

No sooner than he had removed the parchment than the owl had flown off, leaving behind a few brown feathers. Draco watched the bird fly away for a moment and then looked down to what lay in his hands. With quick hands he untied the string and read the letter.

Draco,

I know you are probably busy. I can't help but feel worried about you after our last meeting. You seemed preoccupied with something and I can't help but wonder what it was you were about to tell me before you left so abruptly.

Please promise me that if you wish to talk, you'll send word.

Hermione

Draco swallowed thickly as he rolled the parchment up and tucked it into his sleeve. He did not know how to act around Granger anymore now than he had when they'd been children but he found her openness a bit comforting. With a wave of his wand, the spilled goblet was righted and refilled itself with his pumpkin juice. He waved his wand over his robes as well, spelling the wetness away and banished the brown feathers. Sighing, he rose from the table, leaving his half-eaten food on the table and walked toward the dungeons to prepare for his first lecture.

As he walked he noticed that he had once again eaten more than he had usually. When he'd woken this morning, he did not have a headache or heavy eyelids and the circles under his eyes had faded just enough to be noticeable in the mirror as he shaved. He reflected back on the short letter he'd received from Granger-Weasley and decided that he didn't quite mind having someone care for him slightly. The corners of his full mouth turned up into the shadow of a smile unnoticed by the Potions professor and so when students stared openly at him, he couldn't figure out for the life of him why.

He also didn't realize that he hadn't seen or felt Potter in more than a day.

--

Draco stood in front of his mirror in a daze. The last few days had been a whirlwind of lost hopes and the monotony of trying to keep his students in line before being let off for holiday. After seeing to the few students that had stayed behind, he caught up with all of his paperwork (finally) and slipped away to Malfoy Manor once more. None of the books he'd gone through had any information that could help him and Draco was starting to feel his determination ebbing away.

He hadn't seen Harry for three days now, and he hated to admit that he was worried for the spirit. Draco leaned over the sink and propped himself up on his elbows, allowing for the sink to support his weight. He didn't look as painfully thin as he had before. He couldn't help but notice that his feelings of hunger were becoming more intense. Before, he never really had any desire to eat and this had caused Draco to become overly thin. He thought idly about earlier in the day when he'd seen Pomfrey and she'd looked him over with a small smile of satisfaction.

Sighing, Draco pushed himself away from the sink, grabbed his new bottle of body wash and stepped into the shower. With a softly spoken incantation, water poured of its own accord from the shower head atop the blond wizard's head. Groaning in rapture, pale hands moved to massage his aching muscles, relieving tension as he pressed his fingertips into his shoulders.

He stopped his movements and allowed himself to be directly under the spray of hot water. He could feel the scalding water burn his skin and could see that he was turning rather red but he couldn't quite bring himself to care. The water made him feel clean. It was as if the hotter the water; the more sins would be washed away from his person. He didn't truly believe this, of course, but he felt it in the same way one feels he is safer with the lights on.

Suddenly, Draco felt a coldness sweep over his body, traveling from his toes to his ears and back down. Draco shivered involuntarily, opening his gray eyes to peer at the water above him and registering the steam billowing from the shower into the rest of the bathroom. Draco's momentary confusion was swept away by sudden realization. Quick as lightening, Draco turned to face the figure he knew would be watching him.

"Potter! You're invading my privacy!" Draco cried in outrage. If he hadn't been red already, Harry would have seen the blush blooming across his cheeks and up his neck.

"Malfoy," Harry said in response, not looking chagrinned in the slightest. He was floating within the stall, sitting with one knee over the other as though in a chair. His fist was under his chin as if his head was supported by that one appendage.

"Do you have any sense of decency?" Draco said, calmer now that the surprise and mortification of Potter's arrival had passed.

"I did, but then I started hanging out with Peeves…" Harry smirked, allowing for Draco to finish the statement on his own.

"And he convinced you not to care." At Harry's nod, Draco rubbed his eyes with his hands. He waved one hand to stop the water from flowing and sat down cross-legged on the tiled floor.

When Harry's transparent eyebrow rose in question Draco shook his head to dispel any comments on his behavior. Harry swung his legs from their crossed position and floated so that he was hovering near Draco's face. He reached out a pale blue hand as if to touch Draco's cheek. "Are you okay?" He murmured with genuine concern.

"They want to know, Harry." Draco blinked at the way the name had felt so foreign on his tongue.

The ghost sighed and pulled his hand back. "Perhaps a nap is in order?" Harry smirked in the hopes of inciting some sort of reaction in the blond.

All Harry got, however, was a "perhaps" and a deep sigh that spoke of endless nights of research and the difficulty of watching over his young students.

"C'mon Draco," Harry smiled gently. "If you finish washing up and change into your pajamas, you'll feel better. Then you can sleep and I'll follow you."

This seemed to work, seeing as Draco nodded and immediately stood to continue washing. He glanced back at Harry once, probably to see if the former Gryffindor was still watching, but Harry had gotten the hint and left. Draco made quick work of washing himself and only stayed under the pulsing water a bit longer than necessary. He felt physically and mentally exhausted, and he wasn't in any way prepared to step out of the shower into the cold air of his room.

Absently, he wondered at Potter's reaction to his current state. The look on Potter's face had been one of genuine concern, a look he'd only received from a handful of people thus far. A blush crept back up his neck at the realization that Potter had seen him naked and that the Slytherin hadn't tried to cover himself once throughout the whole encounter. He chalked it up to being tired and moved to get out of the shower stall.

After toweling himself dry, he dressed into green silk pajama pants and walked out of the bathroom. He glanced wearily around the room, slightly disheartened that Harry wasn't there but not too sad because he knew that as soon as he closed his eyes, the Gryffindor would haunt his dreams. As expected, he fell asleep soon after landing on the bed. He hadn't even had the energy to cover himself, he was so tired.

--

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Draco glanced up with surprised gray eyes as he registered his surroundings. It seemed as if they were in a coffee shop and he looked down to see that he was cradling a cup of light brown coffee in both of his hands. He stared out the window next to the red table he sat at to see that it was snowing outside.

Draco shifted his gaze across the table to stare into the concerned green eyes of Harry Potter. He decided rather quickly to ignore the concern and approach Potter from a different angle. First, he wanted some of his questions answered. He tentatively took a sip of his coffee, to find that it was actually quite pleasant. He took another sip, buying himself some time to gather his thoughts.

"Why won't you let me tell them?"

Harry smiled sadly, "How would you react if Ronald Weasley came up to you and told you Blaise Zabini was still alive?"

Draco opened his mouth to retort but was cut off by Harry's voice.

"'But there's a catch' he would say." Harry said as he acted out his scenario. "'He's a ghost who isn't really dead, just wandering around in limbo until I can figure out a way to bring him back. Which, unfortunately, we're not sure is even possible in the first place.' He'd then smile and pat your hand empathetically and expect for you to understand."

"Alright already. I understand somewhat where you're coming from with this." Draco leaned in and raised his eyebrows in suspicion. "Zabini isn't really-?"

"No, of course not. He's probably trapped with Pansy and the rest in Voldemort's wand. Which is now being displayed in a museum, actually. Referring to said wand, of course." Harry smiled to himself at his wit and leaned backwards against his chair in satisfaction.

"Ha ha, Potter." He said sarcastically before sipping his coffee once more.

"Back to my previous question." Harry said, sitting up once more and staring out the window.

"Neither, Potter." Draco replied, to Harry's unasked question.

Amused, Harry raised his eyebrows at Draco. "Really? And, to what question was that the answer for? You'll have to elaborate for me Lord Malfoy."

Draco wrinkled his nose at the formality that reminded him so much of his father but mentally shrugged it off. He leaned forward and placed his coffee cup onto its saucer. "Why, that age-old question, of course."

Harry leaned forward in mock excitement, eyes gleaming with his desire to know the answer. He nodded, a gesture meant to get the Slytherin to finish his statement.

"Boxers or briefs?"

Harry's laugh made Draco's heart flutter with an emotion he'd been feeling but hadn't cared to identify. Draco smiled a small smile with satisfaction and blew at his coffee. He liked to see Potter happy and laughing versus his angsty personality during his lifetime. Draco's stomach flopped in his abdomen, why did he prefer the dead Potter to the one he'd actually spent time with? This couldn't count, could it? Not when Potter was dead and he was alive.

Draco's eyes, now downcast with his gloomy thoughts, scanned the table and to Harry's placemat. In front of him was a coffee cake, intact, next to a similarly untouched cup of coffee.

Harry had apparently picked up the change in emotions and tapped at his cake with a single digit. "I don't like to eat anymore. It hurts." Harry's eyes were void of emotion, almost indifferent.

Draco put down his cup and reached across the table to touch Harry's hand, a simple brush of fingers. He felt that if he could somehow have contact with the man across from him, he'd be able to convey to Harry that he still had a chance. Draco hadn't given up, but it seemed now more than ever that Harry had. "Tell me." Draco said simply.

Harry shifted his body but left his hand resting next to Draco's, not holding each other, but touching in a whisper of skin. "When I was with the Dursleys, I never got to eat what I wanted. What I ate, how much I ate and how often I ate was completely regulated by them. When I found out about the wizarding world and started going to Hogwarts, I was able to pick what I wanted, how much I wanted and no one could tell me different." Harry smiled an emotionless smile. "When we were still enemies," his eyes flashed with humor, "I used to wait until we made eye contact and then proceed in stuffing my face with whatever food I knew you didn't like. Just to get a reaction from you.

"Well, when I died, I couldn't eat of course. I couldn't stand the rotted food other ghosts insist on eating. If you could even call that eating, of course. I'd tried it but I couldn't taste a thing. It's like a curse or something. Even in dreams of other people, I can't eat. I can put it in my mouth, chew it up and swallow but in the end I'm swallowing nothing and it tastes like nothing. That coffee you were sipping," he pointed to Draco's cup. "Is exactly how I used to drink coffee, I tried to drink it once and I cried."

Harry stopped talking, and looked out the window at the swirls of white snow. His eyes were swimming now and Draco had no idea what to do to comfort the Gryffindor. "It's not the food, you know." Harry said finally.

"What?" Draco asked; his voice cracking.

"It's not about the food. It's about control. Or a loss of it really. Food was really all I had some sort of control over and now it's gone." He laughed mirthlessly, "I guess it's symbolism from the divine. Harry Potter shall have no choice ever; they must be laughing at me now. The great Harry Potter left to wander earth dreaming of pumpkin juice and chocolate. What a jo-"

Draco didn't know what had possessed him to do it but suddenly he found himself half lying over the table and pressing his mouth to Potter's. His lips were warm to the touch and he found himself pulling away quicker than his body had wanted him to. He stayed standing, his palms flat on the table between them, his leaning body still. He was so close to Potter and it scared him. Looking into Potter's startled green eyes he found himself leaning in again and this time Potter responded.

--

A/N: I'm so terribly sorry that it's taken me so long to update this fic! The truth is that I've had it mostly written forever and I just didn't get to give it the finishing touches that it needed. I understand if some of you have abandoned it (I would have done the same thing) but for those of you who have been kicking my butt I thank you to the bottom of my heart.

Review responses:

fufu.a.k.a.speechless: Thank you so much and I hope you got to stick around and read this latest chapter! Thanks for your support.

Meilan: I'm afraid I've kept you waiting once more. Sorry, it wasn't my intention to disappear for so long! Thanks for your compliments, I try to write so that there is enough detail so you feel what the character feels, you know? Thanks again!

emeraud.silver: Here it is! Thanks for reviewing!

gbheart: Yeah, I agree... Thanks once more for your lovely review. Hope you got to enjoy this installation!

Passing Bells: Thanks so much. I am trying to keep it paced a certain way. It's not going to be terribly long but I don't want it to feel rushed.

Ana-chan86: Thank you, and I definitely do have a different point of view when it comes to death, I think that it is very open to interpretation and I try to accurately describe feelings so I'm glad that I've moved you!

Kittendragon: Many thanks for keeping me on my toes, I didn't forget about your review although it's been a while. I'm glad that you took interest enough to review and make sure I was still alive hahaha. I hope you stuck around to read this!