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Ch 1 A New Use for that Old Cloak

Fifteen-year-old Harry Potter writhed within his sweat soaked bedclothes. He was in the throes of yet another vision. A familiar sultry disembodied voice urged him on.

"Make a wish, baby, what do you want more than anything in the world?"

Harry's fevered reply, as always, was "I want, no, I need. . ."

"What do you need, baby?"

"I - I need . . . arrrrghhh!"

Harry sat bolt-upright in his bed throwing off his duvet and sheet. He was panting like the time he'd run three times around the lake to push back his mounting sense of frustration.

His four fifth year dorm-mates seemed to be having a snoring competition. If so, Ron was winning by a nose. ..

Grabbing his wand from the nightstand he whispered "/Tempus/."

The image of an ethereal clock showed one minute past midnight.

"Finite," he muttered under his breath, disappearing the time piece.

Harry sighed and got out of bed clad only in his two-sizes-too-large boxers. A quick, stealthy, visit to his trunk and he was on his way downstairs, his invisibility cloak wrapped around his shoulders. Anyone spotting him would have been startled by the apparently disembodied head floating down the staircase.

"Eeeeeep!"

Harry turned to the sound, his wand raised.

"Who's there? Who's there?" Harry and another asked simultaneously. /Just a minute/, he thought, I know that voice.

"Myrtle?" Harry asked, incredulously.

"Harry?" the ghost asked timidly.

"Myrtle, what are you doing here?"

"Um, well, that is to say I, um .. ."

"I thought you were bound to your bathroom?"

"Not really, I um, can go wherever the pipes go . . ."

"Why are you here?"

The little ghost practically glowed blue. If Harry had been more familiar with all things ectoplasmic he would have recognized her ghostly blush.

"Um, why are you up? It's late."

Harry shrugged, "can't sleep half the time, so I come down here to watch the fire."

"I never sleep," Myrtle said with a shrug, "I just float around the castle."

"Well, enjoy your haunt; I'll just be in the common room."

"Um, Harry, would you . . . like some company?"

Harry thought about it. Myrtle had years, no /decades/, of experience roaming these hallowed halls, and might be willing to share what she'd learned. Even as he thought it he felt shame. He couldn't see himself using someone like that. On the other hand it would be nice to have someone to talk to on those nights when he couldn't sleep.

"Why not?" he said with a grin.

Myrtle smiled and floated just ahead, leading him to the common room.

Harry settled on the couch, still wrapped in his cloak so that only his head showed.

"Um, Harry, could you not, Imean, could you take that silly cloak off please? It's a little scary just having your head there and nothing else."

/Scary/, he thought, right, a ghost is frightened by my little illusion.

"But Myrtle," he hissed, "I'm only just in my pants!"

The ghost girl rolled her eyes,"Do you honestly think I haven't seen any boy in Hogwarts in the altogether?"

"Myrtle!" Harry sounded shocked, but couldn't hide his grin.

"Oh don't sound so scandalized. All the ghosts watch. Some have been doing it for hundreds of years."

She floated close to whisper in his ear. "Imagine, Harry, if you were a ghost, could you keep yourself from wandering into the girl's dorms - or their showers?"

He started to protest that he wouldn't but stopped at her raised eyebrow. Then he couldn't help himself, he guffawed. The first honest laugh he'd had since the beginning of the term.

"Well, maybe. But it's hardly fair. You can see us but we don't see, um, I mean. . ."

"Harry!" she squeaked, with ascandalized look that couldn't quite overcome her outrageous grin. She stared at Harry intensely, then seemed to come to a decision.

Myrtle giggled and said, "All right then, fair's fair."

She floated to a point between Harry and the fireplace, then began a slow, suggestive dance, her translucent hips swaying to music that only she could hear.

"I've never done this before, for anyone so don't you dare laugh."

Harry swallowed and assured her,"never happen."

She pulled her blouse out of her skirt and began to unbutton the ethereal shirt one button at a time from the bottom to the top. Pulling open one side, she revealed one cup of her plain cotton bra. Then she shrugged the shirt off before placing it on a nearby chair.

Myrtle looked over her shoulder, seductively, and winked as she unbuttoned the side of her uniform skirt. She bent at the waist, faced away from him, and pulled her skirt down over her knickers clad bum. Stepping out of the skirt, she folded it and placed it next to her blouse.

Myrtle stood before Harry clad only in her 1940s style under clothes; high waist white pants and matching bra, knee socks and Mary Janes.

"Now Mister Potter, your cloak if you please!"

Harry gulped, he didn't mind Myrtle seeing him in his cousin's boxers, but right now, at this particular point in time he had a bit of a problem.

"Um . . ."

"Oh I see, you naughty boy,"Myrtle said with a smirk, "I guess it's reasonable enough, considering."

Saying this she reached behind herself, unhooked her bra and let it fall to the ground.

"Urk?"

Harry had never seen real breasts before, ghostly or otherwise. True, Myrtle was only an "A" cup, and would be forever, but her small baps suited her perfectly. This was not helping the"tent construction" going on under the cloak.

"Now Harry."

"Ah, Myrtle, y'see it's just that . . ."

"What? Can't I keep my shoes and socks?"

"Yeah, but . . ."

"What?" Myrtle nearly shouted.

"I'm, um, I mean . . ."

"You're what?"

Harry groaned and slowly lifted the invisibility cloak off his torso. It was very obvious what he had been trying to say as his full mast raised the material of his too-large boxers to an impressive height.

"Oh." Myrtle said with a little start. "That's um, wow . . ."

She drifted a bit closer leaned forward and asked, "Is that because of me?"

Harry whimpered and nodded. As Myrtle leaned forward her pert little breasts seemed to point at Harry's erection. He noticed that the nipples seemed to crinkle and stiffen as she inspected his "tent."

"Does that hurt?" she asked.

"It's not so much a pain as it's a need."

Saying that Harry remembered why he was up in the first place.

"Myrtle, that's why I couldn't sleep, I had to have something, to do something."

"What?"

"I'm not exactly sure, but Ithink it has to do with my, um . . ."

"Trouser snake?"

He grinned at that and said,"yeah."

The little ghost tentatively reached out to touch the fleshy pole beneath the "big top," but drew back quickly when Harry shuddered and whimpered, "/c-cold/!"

Myrtle drew back, hurt by his albeit involuntary rejection. She began to gather her things to leave. The single silver tear coursing down her face tore at Harry more so than Myrtle's incessant moaning. When she turned to leave Harry found his voice, "no, please don't go."

Myrtle sighed, wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, then looked at Harry, her face resolute, "Why not, Mister Potter? It's not like we can have any kind of future together."

"But we can have a /now/together, can't we?"

Myrtle groaned, "You boys are really all alike. Just show a flash of knickers and a little boob and you get all horny."

"Maybe so, Miss," he said, trying to reason with the girl. "But it wasn't me that started undressing in the common room."

Myrtle wanted to huff at that but her innate sense of fair play didn't seem to allow it.

"No, you're right there."

"B'sides, I didn't ask you here just to get you naked, I really just wanted someone to talk to."

"And now?"

"And now I'd really like to talk to you, just talk is all."

"Hmmmmm," the ghost said, eyeing the fire, "give me just a tick."

With that she stepped into the fire.

"Myrtle!"

"It's okay, fire can't hurt me,"pointing to her chest she said, "ghost, remember?"

Harry watched in fascination as the ghost's hue went from blue to white to slightly pink to red. She stepped out onto the rug, which began to smoke.

"Oops, I stayed in a bit too long. Better give me a minute, let me know when I'm almost white."

As her ectoplasm cooled she began to shift to a more neutral color.

"You're white again."

She tentatively placed her ethereal hand on his arm.

"Still cold?"

"No, not at all."

She smiled and snuggled against him, her warmed ectoplasm feeling very comfortable next to his skin.

"Now, where were we?"

"For now, we're just talking, like two proper mates, okay?"

"Really?"

"Yep, two really good friends who just happen to be mostly starkers on the couch in a room where anyone can walk in on us at any time," he said with a smirk, "simple really."

She giggled.

"That's the Myrtle I know." He said with a smile.

"Tell me about yourself." She started.

"Oh, not much to tell. Just listen to everyone here. I'm a dangerous, attention seeking glory hound, heir to Slytherin, the boy who lived, defeater of basilisks, Tri-wizard champion and all around handsome guy."

He had intended to do an over-the-top "Witches Weekly Most Charming Smile" imitation, worthy of aGilderoy Lockhart. But on Harry the effect was, well, bewitching.

Myrtle sighed and Harry's smile fell.

"Um, I was just kidding, Myrtle. Really."

"Harry, you really don't have any idea, do you?"

"About what?"

"I'll tell you later."

"Um, okay, but tell me about yourself. I don't even know your last name."

"Malone. Yeah, I see it in your face, "if only her mum had named her Molly," I get that a lot."

"Irish, then?"

"Na, Welch, a course, from Felin-newydd."

"Was it nice there?"

"It was okay. Mum and Da both died of a fever when I was six. Wizard's influenza. Nearly killed me too, but I lived, as did most of the children of Felin-newydd. We all grew up in aparish home." Seeing the look of pity in Harry's eyes she quickly said, "Oh, it wasn't bad. I missed my parents something awful, but I had nine brothers and sisters and the town sort of adopted all of us. In Wales muggle and magical folk often live side by side so when I started showing accidental magic the town was thrilled. I was supposed to go off to school, and then go back to Felin-newydd as a "wise woman," y'know, the town's witch.

"I'm afraid it was a bit of adisappointment when I got myself killed."

"Not your fault, y'know." Harry said, kindly.

"I never did thank you." She said.

"What for?"

"For killing the monster that killed me."

"Anytime, Miss Malone."

The sound of footsteps created amad scramble on the couch.

"Hello?"

"Here, get under this with me!"Harry whispered urgently.

Myrtle wrapped herself around Harry as he covered them both in his invisibility cloak.

Hermione Granger touched the bottom step and leaned into the room.

"Anyone down here?" she asked.

She scanned the room and shrugged, heading back up the stair when she stopped, turned around and stared at something in the middle of the common room floor.

A slightly glowing ghostly bra on the rug in front of the fire.

As Hermione came down into the room to investigate Harry felt Myrtle's hand grip his arm, felt her warm breasts against his bare back and realized something.

Myrtle's a ghost.

Beyond a bit of ectoplasmic tingling I shouldn't be feeling her at all.