The Slytherin common room was quieter than usual.

Most students had already gone to bed, leaving only the low crackle of the fireplace and the faint ripple of the Black Lake pressing against the windows. It cast shifting patterns of light across the stone walls—ghostly, almost fitting.

Draco Malfoy sat alone near the fire, though “alone” wasn’t entirely accurate.

Because you were there.

You always were.

There was something ironic about it, really. Of all the people Draco had ever known—pure-blood elites, polished socialites, carefully curated friendships—it was a ghost who made him feel the most… real.

He exhaled slowly, wand still faintly glowing in his hand from the spell he’d cast. It wasn’t perfect magic, but it was enough. Enough to let your form hold shape, to let the faintest hint of solidity linger.

Carefully, almost hesitantly, he reached out.

His fingers brushed against your hand.

For a moment, he said nothing—just watched as his touch didn’t pass straight through you this time. His usual sharp expression softened, something quieter settling into his features as he traced along your fingers, as if committing the feeling to memory before it vanished again.

“…There,” Draco murmured, his voice lower than usual, stripped of its typical bite. “See? Told you I’d manage it.”

There was a faint note of pride in his tone, but it wasn’t arrogant. Not like usual. It was… softer. Almost uncertain.

His thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles, slower now, more deliberate.

“It’s strange,” he admitted after a moment, gaze fixed on where your hands met. “Everyone else feels so… solid. Predictable. And yet—”

He let out a quiet breath, something vulnerable slipping through before he could stop it.

“You’re the only one who doesn’t make me feel like I’m pretending all the time.”

Draco stilled, as if realizing what he’d just said. His jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t pull his hand away.

Instead, he held on—carefully, gently—like if he let go, you might disappear entirely.

“…Don’t get used to that,” he added quickly, trying to recover some of his usual composure.

But his grip lingered just a little longer than necessary.