you would know, after all.

in potions, people's eyes still linger on your now empty seat. slughorn more than most. he rather liked you - he always had a soft spot for challenged yet bright students.

annoyingly he slotted me into that category as well - an orphan but exceedingly intelligent.

your part of the table is vacant as well - your cauldron now stored away in the back as well as your books. no use for them now except as an extra.

i wondered who the next user would be, and if they'd see your little notes you left and wonder. wonder who you were and what you were like.

the thought stuck with me through the whole lesson - an aggravating little tick in the back of my head.

my own gaze drifted to your old stool, the wood looking lonely now. it's odd how people can fill up spaces and make them feel whole - adding the human touch only for them to step away again and you remember it's just an object.

there's no meaning in a chair - not really. yet people tend to apply one anyway.

dust was settling on it, a void space. as if someone had removed a vase full of dead flowers that had been sitting on a shelf for much too long.

echos everywhere.

that's all the world was.

without a thought i nicked your potions book from the shelf and it slid into my satchel.

a fool would call it sentiment - it wasn't. i didn't care, why would anyone want a vandalized textbook?

i was doing them a favor.

when i turned a corner you were there, leaning against the wall messing with your nails.

the way you grinned was too knowing.

i ignore you and keep walking.

your actions are contradictory, thomas, you called. voice echoing in the hollow halls.

just keep walking. sure enough if i ignore you you'll grow tired.

then again, do ghost get bored?

probably, after some time. tethered to reality but not able to do anything reputable anymore. they're just echos. you're just an echo.

hopefully you'll drown out soon.

though i feel we both know you're too stubborn for that.

the next evening during supper you appeared at my side, nearly making me choke on my stew.

you were getting much too bold.

i looked around quickly - no one was reacting. no shouts no cries - nothing.

they can't see me, you say. you're grinning but i can tell you're sad. you always were.

looking around everyone was too caught up in conversation. malfoy flirting with hornby, and rosier was off sulking at some boy at the ravenclaw table.

always or just because you're willing it so?

i don't think i should answer that.

why not?

because either answer with make you too proud.

i hum into my food and watch your eyes drift, watching steam plume up - longing clear in your features.

you miss it don't you?

you glare sharply and i stifle a laugh - things we need for survival often go unnoticed, yet the moment they're ripped away they become a necessity.

we crave it, run after it, even kill in the name of need.

and what do you need?

your questions are always curious. the books you read rewrote your dialogue and made you more interesting than what was good for you.

and look where you ended up.

stumbling from my lap right into your grave.

the perfect ending for a girl like you.

i don't need anything.

we both know that's not true.

i look away, your eyes too often reflected my own hubris. that's why i hated mirrors, yet your gaze was always a reminder of what was hidden.

true sight.

it was insufferable yet i often found myself peering in further anyway.

now more than ever i understood narcissus' downfall.

you come closer, resting a hand on my thigh and the world goes cold as well as my food. people around me shiver but think nothing else of it.

my eyes drag from your touch to your face and they linger on the bruises wrapped around your neck.

funny, i can't quite remember the context of them. did i put them there in lust or in violence?

same difference, i suppose.

what do you need? you repeated, if you were still alive your breath would've ghosted over my lips. the smell of ginger and lemongrass swirling around me - now it's just dust.

that's a complicated question, diana.

you're a complicated man.

do you expect a simple answer?

you hum, pulling your hand away to trail along the line of my jaw. it clenches at your bitter touch and you smile softly.

in truth i expect none, but i thought to ask anyway.

that seems pointless.

shrugging you pull away, my body leaning forward a bit as if you commanded the winds to pull me.

everything in life is pointless, thomas. i'm just trying to get you to understand that.

i blink and you're gone.

my food now cold and my appetite withered.

malfoy finally turned and looked me over for a moment, you alright?

my dark eyes slate towards him and he cringes in on himself - i'm fine.

the blond nodded curtly, i could tell he knew i was lying.