The boy came to her less often now. His master is expecting more, and soon he will stop coming to her bathroom, and stop crying at her feet.

She will have to find another secret friend.

She remembers how other boys, lonely boys, like him, would come to seek solace in the dripping echoes on the tile, and sometimes her words would help them. She remembers how one, at least a few more than ten graduations back, would come and mimic this boy's actions.

Both would snap harshly as she scolded them for being rude.

Both would come back, despite how often she fought with them.

Both would slowly break into tiny pieces as she gently pestered them to share.

Both would stand before her and weep as they would to no one else.

Both would tell her horrible secrets that could have saved others had she told.

But Myrtle would never tell on her secret friends. Noted she was trusted, and maybe even cared for, and after the loneliness that came with death she wouldn't spoil that for the world.

Not then. Not now.

She sighed as he left and wondered how long it will be until this task takes him away, just like the other ones.

"He wants me to kill Dumbledore. How can I kill the most powerful wizard alive? I'm just a boy!"

Yes, he was still just a boy. There were no whiskers on his chin, and though his voice had deepened, it was still tainted with the high alto of youth.

He told her about the wretch-ed Potter and how much he hated him and his trio. The mudblood, the muggle lover and the forgetful sod that followed them.

He said he wanted an advantage. Voldemort could give him that.

Her other boy had told her things like that.

He had told her how much he hated the wretch-ed Potter boy and his trio. The blood betrayer, the furry abomination, and the greedy rat that worshiped them.

He said he wanted a Lilly girl. Voldemort could give him that.

She still saw that first boy, now a man, and a teacher here no less, when he swept through the corridors and bullied her Harry, and she was often torn between whom to comfort.

Harry had left her alone; but she might forgive that. He had not sought her out as a sanctuary from life. Only the privacy of her bathroom appealed to her. She watched after him from loneliness, and it had been so long since her last friend!

But she was not the one to fix the sadness in his eyes. She could offer him no vent, no reprieve, however brief. That was for the weasel boy, and the girl who drinks cat fur.

Harry had not cried for her, but he had asked her questions. Surely she would be given note again some day?

But still, she longed for them to come to her--all three of them, her boys--and let her fix their tears again.

It was so obvious he was still hurting.

Draco was hurting.

Severus was hurting.

And she was hurting for them all.

One night, the first boy, Severus was a lovely name, came back to her, for the first time in so long! He came to her bathroom and fell to his knees and told her a secret that made her heart break.

"Dumbledore will have me execute him soon."

She tried to press a hand to his cheek, desperate to help, but all it did was raise Goosebumps and make him shiver.

He looked up at her, his eyes lost and broken, and he left without another word.

That night she knew she would weep for him for many days.

A thick redness slipped across the mold and between the grime of the tiles to mix with saline in shallow pools below her. Wails like a tortured child echoed through the stalls and made the water in the toilet bowls ripple.

How, how, HOW could he do this to her? To them? Her Harry, her Griffindor, her friend! She'd trusted him, kept his confidence, secrets, his stupid, stupid potions! And still he'd come in here and, and--!

Draco...her sweet, troubled Draco! It happened so fast--too fast! She'd barely been able to scream before Severus arrived, and then he'd looked at the cut on Draco's chest with a kind of cold knowing that made her sad and scared.

Sectum Sempra was such a strange spell.

"Myrtle?" The voice was half statement, half question. She floated out of the U-bend, sniffling timidly to allow her visitor to speak.

"...Severus?"

He didn't looking at her, staying as close to the door as he could without being pressed against the wood. His shoulders were strong but heavy, like those of a king who's lost his crown, and she wanted desperately to comfort him as though he were still a boy.

"He's fine now. Madam Pomfrey had him healed in moments, and Potter won't be using that spell again." He looked ready to run. "I...I thought you should know...he's promised to be back to you soon."

She was almost speechless. Almost, but not quite.

"Thank you, Severus. I'm glad to hear it," She looked at him lovingly through silver lashes. "It...It's good to see you again, you know. You grew up well, for all your faults."

He still kept his gaze fixed upon the floor and he crinkled his nose as Draco's blood inched towards his shoes.

"Hasn't Filtch come to clean this up?"

She laughed. "He never comes in here if he can help it--he hates me for the mess my crying always makes."

"You deserve more respect than that. Scourgify!" he waved his wand and the floor was not only clean, but dry too.

She supposed he'd grown out of his own tears, so her crying must hurt his pride.

"I'm glad you at least think so. It means a lot to me."

She thought she saw a hint of red in the tops of his cheeks, and she had to stop herself from teasing him.

"I need to go."

Although her heart was still laden with worry, she could not help the smile that lasted long after the final echoes of the door's closing had died away.

"Tonight's the night," said Draco, straightening his robes and scrubbing at his eyes.

She knew he would not be back.

"You'll be alright, won't you?" she asked. She wanted to ask after Severus, for how could both kill the same man? But she could not find the words that would let her keep both their trusts, and so she held her tongue.

He looked at her with anxious, childish eyes that begged her for answers, alternatives, excuses for what he was about to do, and she found she could offer nothing.

"Don't worry Myrtle. Everything will be fine. And when the Dark Lord takes over, I'll be back to visit you, at the top of it all, at his right hand. I'll even make sure to clear out a prefect bathroom for you to haunt."

He was trying to smile, to make it all better for both of them, and she tried to laugh for him.

It didn't work.

They lapsed into silence so that the only sound between them were the steady drip, drip, drip of her tears on the tiles.

Eventually, the mark on his arm--so vivid, so dark on that pale skin--began to burn with an anger that made him wince, and she watched silently as he straitened his shoulders and left in a sweep of robes.

She thought they had too much in common, her two Slytherin boys. They came to her first in tears. They left believing they would be fine.

It seamed like a lifetime before she spied them all again. She'd been minding her own business when the first voices she'd heard in forever (aside from her own) had rung through the halls outside and she'd peaked through a wall to see what the fuss was about.

Two boys too familiar for words were fighting outside, and had she had a beating heart, Myrtle imagined she would have felt it stop.

"Draco," she whispered in awe.

Of course, the boy wasn't exactly Draco, he was too young for that, but save for the brown of his eyes and the curl of his hair, they could have been twins. He was holding a book above the short reach of a boy with an auburn mob and neon green eyes.

Harry's face was crying.

When those tears found their way into her bathroom not a week later, she found she was not surprised and welcomed him with a smile.

Maybe this time, Harry would treat her as a friend?

"What's your name?"

He looked at her so kindly. That was a new feature.

"Albus. Albus Severus Potter."

Though she said nothing on it, inwardly she was smiling.

It seamed they all came back eventually.

Yes, I know I screwed up the time line--Draco wouldn't have told Myrtle until after Harry attacked but screw it--I haven't read that one in years. I'm winging it.

R&R if you please.