When Ginny arrived home from Quidditch practice a few minutes later, Harry hurried to the door to greet her, something she was pleasantly surprised by as he hadn't put in effort like that in weeks.
"Gin, hey," he said, kissing her quickly, carelessly. "This is so insane, there's something you've got to see-"
"Oh, my day was fine, thanks," she rolled her eyes sarcastically, more than slightly hurt as she shoved her kit bag from her shoulder to the floorboards. "How was yours, Mr. Urgency?"
"Good, yeah," Harry answered distractedly. "But, Gin, look-"
In truth his day hadn't been good, but Harry didn't remember that in that moment. He was only aware of Malfoy, his ghost in the next room, and a little of the warmth that his girlfriend had brought back into the house.
"You've brought me a Weasel," Malfoy smirked as the couple rounded the corner into the kitchen where he'd been waiting.
Harry's eyes snapped defensively to his girlfriend, expecting her famous temper to flare at the insult, but her expression remained impassive and calm.
"Why are you staring me, Harry?" she asked, a slow smile creeping over her face. "Have I got some dirt on my face from practice?"
"No?" Harry frowned. Was she stupid, he wondered? He threw an arm widely out towards Malfoy's corner of the room. "I mean, yeah, you do a bit, but I was talking more about the ghost of our dead schoolmate?"
"The fucking what?!" Ginny's eyebrows shot up. "Harry, if this is some kind of weird joke..."
"Oh, yes, because depressed little Potter's such a barrel of laughs since the war, isn't he?" said the ghost mockingly - and again, his target didn't react.
Instead, her pretty green eyes stayed fixed on Harry in confusion, oblivious to the direction of his own gaze.
"It's not a joke, Gin, he's really here!" Harry gasped. "Why would I - how would it be a joke?! I'm-"
"Harry... who do you mean is here?" his girlfriend asked slowly. She decided to humour the boy; after all, Harry's mental health had appeared to take a turn for the worse recently and she didn't want to set him off.
"Draco Malfoy!!" he replied in amazement. "It's Draco- can't you see him?! Oh my god, Gin, he's right there, I swear-"
"Ok, Harry," she placed a soft, reassuring hand on his arm. "Ok. Fine. Why don't we just go through to the living room for a sec, maybe think about calling Summertown and asking if Annie's around-"
"No!" Harry snapped. It came out much louder than he intended, and they both jumped. "No," he said again, quieter. "I don't need Annie, or anyone else. I know what I can see. Oh my God."
Malfoy's face loomed above him, laughing cruelly. "It's just like everyone else!" he gloated, kicking off one wall to pose dramatically against the other. "Oh, God, this is brilliant. She can't see me, Potter! It's only you!"
"It can't be only me," said Harry desperately. "Gin, please - please, Ginny, just look-"
"Ok, Harry," she replied gently. "I'm sure he's here. Ok? Don't upset yourself, love, let's get you a glass of water - or something stronger, maybe? Would you like something stronger? I'm not sure what spirits we have in the cupboard-"
At the word 'spirits', Draco erupted into delirious laughter. "It's more about what spirits you have in your kitchen, you stupid bitch!" he crowed, and Harry winced at the language.
"Don't ever use that disgusting word again!" he snapped towards the ceiling.
"What word, Harry?" Ginny frowned, her concern deepening by the second. "Cupboard?"
Harry groaned. "Not you," he said, raking his hands through his hair while Malfoy guffawed.
He turned back to his girlfriend. "Sorry. I'd really like a strong drink. And you can use whatever language you like. Thank you."
He knew he sounded crazy, but he was starting to think maybe he literally might be. If he wasn't, then why couldn't Gin see Draco too? Ghosts were real, he knew that from Hogwarts, but from that he also knew that they were visible to everyone, not just him.
On top of that, Harry knew that the reason most ghosts were on Earth rather than... wherever else dead people go... was because they couldn't let go of their human life.
And that didn't sound much like Malfoy to Harry.
Malfoy appeared to have had a pretty miserable life - you'd have thought he'd be happy to get the hell away from it when he died - unless, Harry realised, the phrase "get the Hell away" was more accurate than he'd first thought.
Fuck.
He knew Malfoy had done some messed up shit in life, but surely he wasn't Hell-level bad... was he??
Gin's voice snapped him out of his thoughts then, and his head snapped up - fuck, he was jumpy.
"Harry, are you listening to me?" she asked, chewing on her lip the way she always did when she was worried.
"Are you listening to me, fuckhead?" Malfoy asked in a cruel approximation of her voice.
"Uh, yeah," Harry replied, shaking his head dazedly to see if the ghostly vision would disappear. He didn't.
"What did I say, then?"
"You asked me... if I want brandy or whiskey?" Harry asked hopefully.
"Good guess," his girlfriend frowned. "Which is it?"
"Brandy, please," said Harry. He made a concerted effort to keep his eyes on Gin's beautiful face as he spoke, and not on the boy shooting off the walls behind her. "Thanks."
"Alright," she said gently. "I'll get it. But for God's sake, Harry, sit down for me while I do. I've half a mind to call 999 and say you're about to have a seizure, the way you're acting."
"I'm sitting, I'm sitting," Harry replied, throwing himself hurriedly down onto the sofa. He was desperate to placate her; hated that he'd scared her. "I'm good, truly. I'll stay right here. No seizures."
"Please, please have a seizure," Malfoy begged him as Ginny left the room. He swooped down to Harry's eyeline and mimed a series of heavy spasms, his eyes rolling wildly back as he shook.
"How are you making that fucking foam come out of your mouth?" Harry asked in horrified amazement.
"It's just plasma," Malfoy shrugged. "Good, isn't it? Does it creep you out?"
"Yeah."
"Good. I can make fuckloads more."
Harry's knuckles began to turn white with how hard he was gripping the arms of his chair, and by the time Ginny returned with his brandy (a triple, by the looks of it), his hands were almost too shaky to accept it.
"Drink," she told him, kindly enough while still sounding authoritative. "You've clearly had some sort of shock, I'll bet you need this."
And so Harry drank, and Ginny watched on with all the love and care in the world in her eyes.
"You turned into an alky, Potter?" Malfoy asked sneeringly, his eyes boring coldly into Harry as he sipped the golden liquid in his glass. "Bit of a lush, bit of a boozer? Need something to take the edge off?"
The glass clinked against Harry's teeth as he gritted them, a concerted effort not to respond.
"Pisshead Potter!" Malfoy continued to gloat, hysterical at his own joke. He was in Harry's face now, uncomfortably close. His presence felt like a cold gust of wind, and Harry shuddered.
He drained the last of his drink and handed the glass to Ginny, whose hands were soft and warm as she received it. "Better?" she asked
Over her shoulder, Malfoy was miming vomiting, spewing transparent plasma all over the ceiling of the room.
"Better," Harry lied. He wondered when that statement would be true.
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a/n: so! the loooong awaited update!
sorry i've not been updating fast recently, i've had some stressful stuff to think about but i'm all good and hopefully you all continue to enjoy this story and give me incentive to keep going with it!💗💗💗
~ paradisedraco