The sky was dark. The streets utterly empty. Hermione powerwalked ahead of Draco who kept falling behind, pulling at his hair or caressing the strange wand. It felt different than other wands he had ever felt. It felt...powerful. He couldn't help think about how Ollivander had never told him the core or origin of the wand. Hermione would probably know more about it than he. Not that Draco would ask her about it, it was bad enough he was stuck following her to the Ministry of Magic.

"Where's the Weasel?" he asked, turning up his nose but picking up his pace to catch up with her.

She barely looked at him, rolling her eyes. "Probably hiding somewhere. He doesn't do battles very well."

Draco scoffed. Harry would never back down from a battle. Then he swallowed. Harry would never back down from a battle...And this time the opposing side was Draco and Hermione. "So...What do we do if we find Harry before we make an antidote?"

"I doubt he'll kill you, Malfoy," Hermione said, exasperated. "We just have to get into his office, we don't even know how far gone Harry is or if he's even at the Ministry."

Oh Harry was at the Ministry alright. When they finally arrived to the telephone box that led to the Ministry, Draco and Hermione saw a Dark Mark hovering over it. "My God he's gone mad," Hermione uttered quietly, barley loud enough for Draco to hear. He wished he hadn't heard.

Trying to ease his mind, Draco jogged ahead of Hermione and tried to put on an aire of superiority. "What are we going to do once we're in there, Granger?"

Hermione typed in the code and the telephone booth began to plummet downwards. Draco's stomach did the same. "Well," Granger said as if she was talking to a child, "we need to sneak into Harry's office and find his drink or anything he may have drunk out of that could have remnants of the potion. Then we need to get out as fast as we can so I can figure out what antidote to make."

The doors of the telephone booth swung open with a creak. Draco and Hermione gazed out into the darkness of the abandoned Ministry of Magic. A few lights flickered from high up in the ceiling, but not enough to illuminate the room much. "How," Draco's voice cracked and he silently cursed himself, "how do we get Harry to take the antidote?"

Hermione didn't respond right away, but her answer wasn't any more reassuring. "I don't know."

Draco swallowed, trying not to show his fear. The eerily silent Ministry of Magic did nothing to calm his nerves. Draco clung to his new wand, trying to look like a calm, cool, collected picture of Slytherin glory. Not that that mattered much anymore, Muggle homeless knew nothing of houses or wizards and judged Draco not on his family, but purely on his present actions. And his present actions seemed to be rather noble. Draco would've laughed at the thought if this were any other situation and his... his boyfriend hadn't been cursed to be the next Big Daddy Voldemort.

"Where's his office?" Draco asked as he took slow, careful steps along the cold floor.

He didn't know why he was being so quiet, or had some irrational fear that if he made one wrong step, the floor would crack and he would fall to his demise. Hermione seemed to have the same fear for she did not answer aloud, only pointed towards an opening leading off from the main room. He followed her, slowly and carefully through a long series of hallways and at last into the Auror unit. Hermione pointed once again, this time at a wooden door with a crooked tag reading "Potter."

They both glanced at one another and Draco slowly reached out, pale hand shaking uncontrollably.

He grabbed the knob.

It turned.

With a silent breath of relief, Draco pushed the door open and glanced around the tiny room. Harry worked in here? Jesus, no wonder he went crazy. Books open to random pages about Ministry legislation were littered around the tiny room the size of a bathroom. Papers were piled high on the floor, a "in" and "out" box overflowing with more files. Stacks of files sat on the desk, with only a tiny clearing. And on the clearing was a mug. Draco took a step, almost tripping over some loose papers. He grabbed the mug, glancing back at Hermione who nodded hurriedly, eyes darting all about.

He lifted the mug to see a dark substance at the bottom. "We got it," he said, grinning.

That's when Draco heard the strangled gasp. It sounded like a cry of despair and heartbreak unlike anything Draco had ever heard.

They both turned around, breath catching in Draco's throat, eyes wide. Standing in the doorway with his wand raised and at the ready, was Harry. He pointed at Draco, which made him flinch. "You," Harry said in a raspy voice, "are dead."

Harry looked awful. His eyes glowing intense green, skin pale and hollow. Hair slicked back in a very un-Harry way. His pitch black robes billowed in a nonexistent wind.

"No-" Draco began but Harry cut him off.

"YOU ARE DEAD!" Harry screamed, a shout so violent, Draco's heart broke once again.

Harry turned on Hermione, as if Draco had suddenly disappeared. "Have you no shame? He died because of people like you and you have the nerve to summon his ghost!"

"What?" Hermione seemed just as confused as Draco.

"You Ministry yes-men are the reason he died. You can't see past the corruption. They say they will fix everything, that they will make things better, but do they? NO! THEY DON'T! They hide behind The Perfect Golden Boy and spout a bunch of bureaucratic bullshit about helping people. How is murdering the man I love HELPING?"

Love? "You love me?" Draco almost fell into a stack of Ministry issued Auror textbooks.

Harry ignored him, eyes never leaving Hermione's. "You wanted to move up here? Why? There's no changing the system. There's no changing them. They'll slither back in there. No you can't be Dark. No you can't leave. All jobs are Ministry jobs. Dark or Light. With us or against us. Play along or starve."

"Harry I'm not dead!" Draco yelled.

"It even sounds like him," Harry lowered his head, staring at his shoes, "he was always so... contrary."

Draco would've been offended but he was too busy slipping a small vile out of his pocket. If Harry didn't think he was real, maybe Draco could use that to his advantage. The almost-darkness of the room probably helped to. He carefully set the mug down on the edge of the wood desk, partially against his back. Draco tried to tune out Harry's rant and put all his focus on the glass in his hand.

He slowly but surely dipped the vile down into the cup, scooping up some of the sludge at the bottom. Cork in between his thumb and forefinger, Draco tried to put a lid on the vile. Biting his lip, he tried several times before it finally went in all the way.

He locked eyes with Hermione, lifting the vile slowly so she could see.

She understood what he was mentally saying and ever so slightly nodded.

That was all Draco needed.

He slipped the vile into his pocket and put on hand on his wand, mentally screaming a spell to make him look ethereal. Harry wanted a ghost. He'd give him a ghost.

His wand responded to his nonverbal spell almost instantly, unlike any wand he'd ever used it somehow could guess his intentions, casting spells effortlessly and with a power that Draco had never possessed before.

Now ghostly in appearance, Draco casually walked up to the now dark Harry. "I love you too," he whispered, not knowing if Harry could hear, before walking right past him.

He didn't know what would happen to Hermione, but she could easily hold her own. Now Draco had some ass-kicking and world saving to do. Clutching the vile of Harry's drink, Draco apparated away. Back to Harry's flat.

---

Hope you have a lovely present time,

BYE BITCHES!