Kiss Me, Haunt Me, Kill Me

Originally posted to AO3 and FFnet in October 2018.

She died in the Battle of Hogwarts. Some bloody martyr act that had earned her a Killing Curse from Bellatrix. Draco still didn't know exactly what it was, and he wasn't about to ask her.

McGonagall said she popped up during the rebuilding effort and started informing the crew of how best to restructure the library, yelling at the workers when they put up a wall that wasn't there before. She'd requested to stay at Hogwarts, and to keep her new state of existence from Potter, the Weasleys, and anyone else not returning to school. Another thing Draco wasn't going to ask her about.

As for Draco, his very own martyr act during the Battle had kept him out of Azkaban. He'd pulled McGonagall out of the way of Killing Curse at the last moment, only to look up and see his father at the other end of the wand. Lucius's grey eyes had stared at him, puzzled, until McGonagall fired a Stunning Spell and dragged Draco along with her into the next corridor. That was the last time he'd ever seen his father. He refused to investigate exactly what had killed him.

A greying tabby cat had appeared edge of the Manor's Apparition wards on August 31 that year. Draco stared her down, and left to run his errands. When he Apparated back, the cat was still there. He sighed and faced her.

McGonagall grew in front of him, pushed her glasses back into place and said, "It's not polite to keep a woman waiting, Mr. Malfoy."

"It's more polite to make appointments, Minerva." He opened the gate and turned to lead her down the garden path to the Manor, but she didn't follow.

"Horace is dying."

He looked at her over his shoulder, taking in her empty eyes.

She continued, "Some curse from the Battle. He's been brewing potions to keep himself alive, but he's let me know yesterday that he's... tired." She pressed her lips together, as if she wished she could just be tired as well.

"Can I help with the brewing? Is there... Can I do anything?"

She pulled an envelope from of her robes and extended it to him. "You can be at King's Cross tomorrow morning at eleven sharp." He stared down at the letter addressed to him. "We are in need of a Potions Master."

She Disapparated before he could decline or argue. Because she knew him too well.

After the welcome speech, and after his anxiety had calmed once no one had hissed at the announcement of his name as Potions Master, he grabbed a dinner roll and a Pumpkin Pasty, excusing himself to Severus's old quarters to figure out exactly what he'd be teaching tomorrow. The first years were one thing, but the seventh years? He had barely made it through his own seventh year, squeaking by on the N.E.W.T.s.

He turned a corner and found Granger, staring up at a portrait, translucent.

A sharp cold clutched his lungs, stopping him dead in his tracks. She hovered off the ground, wearing a hooded jumper and denim jacket. She turned to see him standing there, frozen. Dried blood at her temple.

She looked him up and down.

"So," she said, and her voice was just as he'd remembered it, "you've chosen to haunt the castle as well?" She lifted her brows. "I'm dead. What's your excuse?"

~*~

He generally tried to stay away from her. She was... too much. And quite honestly, he'd made his peace with the death of Hermione Granger months ago.

He'd attended the funeral for Merlin's sake.

But she kept popping up. She walked through the door - through it - of his third year Potions class the following Tuesday. He was in the middle of adding the lacewing flies and his fingers paused as he watched her take a seat at the back of the room. She leaned forward on her stool, chin resting in her hand and watched him for the rest of class.