requirement | dramione

0.14

november 1, 1996

Potions was Draco's first class of the day, yet he had been up for hours reading the book Hermione had handed him while he sat on the tile of the second floor girls lavatory. The book was thick and smelt as if it hadn't been opened in a century. It was a collection of convenient, practical spells for cupboards, cabinets, and containers. While it might have been helpful to some, it was entirely the wrong kind of magic for what the Slytherin needed. Draco huffed, rubbing the base of his palm against his brow. He pressed harshly against his head as if it would decrease the size of his headache. The back of his head thumped against the tiled wall, making a dull beat echo through the bathroom. 

"Oooh," A squeaky, sorrowful moan came from one of the toilets, "Draco... always so sad..."

Draco lifted his eyes, looking across the bathroom to see the pale, forlorn ghost who never seemed to leave. Draco was wondering why she hadn't come out to say hello, he had been there for almost an hour now. No one ever came into the second floor girls bathroom, even in the few days each year that it would be in order, but it was typically flooded. 

"You're one to talk," Draco replied, annoyance in his tone but a lighthearted look on his face, "Moaning Myrtle." There was something familiar about Myrtle and, beside the fact that she was unconditionally annoying, she was lonesome. On one of the first nights of the year, Draco stumble into her bathroom and hovered over a toilet, struggling not to throw up. Myrtle had laughed at him and proceeded to talking about herself. At that point, Draco was unable to stop her pitchy narrative, and just listened. Her story, though it was long, overdramatic, and drawn out, felt calming to hear. On that night, Myrtle told Draco that he was always welcomed to throw up in her bathroom. 

For some reason unknown to Draco, he accepted her offer. The blonde boy returned to Myrtle's lavatory every so often, not for the purpose of vomiting, but usually when he had no where else to go. His first choice would be the Room of Requirement, of course, but on mornings like these it was too risky to be wandering so close to Gryffindor. 

The ghost of the young girl shot up into the air, floating high above the bathroom sinks before lowering herself in front of Draco. Her pigtails followed her down to the floor, floating about her head as if they were meant to be laughed at. She let out a high squeal of a giggle when she noticed him staring at her dark hair.

"Name calling isn't very nice!" She laid down on the tiles just feet away from him, arching her back so far that she looked uncomfortable. Myrtle batted her eyes in a seductive manner as Draco struggled to conceal his discomfort. "What is it today?" She asked, playing with one pigtail, "Daddy got you down? Oh, no... Mommy's got you down?"

Draco shook his head at her, frustrated with her consistent prying, "No. Say, Myrtle, what do you know of the Vanishing Cabinet?" 

Myrtles eyes went a little wider as she rolled onto her stomach, hanging her feet in the air and kicking them back and forth, "Well I know that nasty old Peeves wrecked it! I heard the crash all the way from here."

"Peeves did something to it? What?"

"You think that Pratty-Naughty-Old-Peeves would tell me anything! Of course not! How should I know?" Myrtle suddenly exclaimed, her declaration coming out a a cry. Then, just as quickly as the outburst had started, her voice returned to its normal squeak, "Plus, that was years ago. What do you want with a Vanishing Cabinet anyway?" 

"I've told you before," Draco said, unamused as he opened his book once more, "It's a difficulty to explain." The pages of the textbook fanned open, falling to a page on never ending wardrobes. Myrtle wriggled closer, peering at the book upside down. She pushed her circular glasses back up her nose before intently staring at Draco. 

"You look more tired than I do, sweet Draco, and I never sleep!" 

Draco stopped himself from scowling at her shill notes. He looked up at her briefly, long enough to see the interest in her eyes. "I've been having trouble sleeping," He admitted to her, deepening his voice in fear of sounding weak. Who was she going to tell anyway?

"Oh, I always have trouble sleeping," Myrtle agreed, shaking her head vigorously as if she hadn't just told Draco that she never slept. "Just the other day I was trying to sleep in the U-bend, but I couldn't because of those nasty Hufflepuff second-years, trying to clog the passageway!"  Myrtle continued to whimper, but Draco had stopped listening. 

Passageway. 

"Myrtle, you're a genius." Draco said flatly, interrupting whatever new story she was telling. He hunched over the text book, flicking pages out of his way as he searched for that word. After a handful of pages, he came to a new chapter titled "Mending Broken Passageways." 

"Myrtle, you're a genius!" He repeated, louder this time, "All along I've been looking for enchantments of vanishing cabinets, when really it's the passageway that needs to be repaired."

Myrtle looked pleased with herself as Draco watched her, his face etched with disbelief. He was neither happy nor sad, but whatever this was, it was something. He stared at the textbook, taking in the lengthy list of incantations and their purposes towards mending passages. His eyes flurried about the page, trying to consume all of the information at once. 

"Yes," he muttered to himself, bitting his lip as he nodded, "This'll do. It has to." 

This discovery did not ease the stress that pounded within his head, but it did not add to it. The weight in his stomach, which made it very hard to eat and even harder to sleep, had not improved nor grown larger. He clambered to his feet as he repeated to himself that something was better than nothing.

"You're leaving, so soon!" Myrtle cried, rolling on to her back as if he had kicked her. 

"Yes," He declared, already walking towards the bathroom exit. "I've got class. I've got work to do." His mind was racing still, envisioning the many incantations which he would have to make time to experiment with. His entire body was anxious, holding the giant book a little too tightly in one hand while he gripped his wand with his other. There was no time to study these spells before Potions, which he was already running late for. 

"Oh Draco!" Myrtle cried in her moaning voice, which she knew he hated. Regardless, Draco turned to watch as she shot into the air dramatically, arms outstretched. Draco held her eye contact, waiting on her next statement. The ghost of the young girl straightened herself, brought her feet to the floor, and returned her voice to its normal blue sound, "You'll come back, won't you?"

He stared at Myrtle for a moment. She looked small and fragile, staring back at his with wide eyes that quietly begged him to stay. Behind her, he saw himself in the mirror, standing right next to the small ghost. He watched his reflection next to her as she tipped her head to one side. In her motion, it was as if the young ghost had laid her head against the shoulder of his reflection. Draco tipped his own head to the side, watching as his reflection seemed to lean back on Myrtle. It was a sight of friendship- the kind that Draco had never managed to find. 

"Yes," He nodded steadily, "Yes, I'll come back."