She hadn’t been joking you know. She had meant it dearly, if he had died, she would have shared her toilet. She would have been glad to, really.
But he hadn’t died. It was rather surprising.
And maybe she was just a wee bit disappointed.
[there was no way he would spend time with her now, was there? why would anyone alive want to spend time with her? they wouldn’t. she was always alone unless someone was throwing things at her or being otherwise rotten.]
There was nothing to keep him here.
She didn’t want him to die, really. [otherwise she wouldn’t have screamed until help came, right?]
Yet some part of her resented [hated] the dark haired professor for coming, for saving him.
She doubted Draco would come back anymore, after this.
[no more talks, no more company, no more understanding. and she didn’t love him. she didn’t hate him for not dying. no, certainly not. she didn’t care. at all. not a bit.]
[she didn’t hurt, being left alone, again. it’s not like moaning, mopey Myrtle had feelings, or anything.]
It was a war, and so many people had died.
But neither of them had.
And neither of them came to visit her any more. [do they even remember she exists?]
And no one came to share her toilet. [not that she ever wanted anyone to, except those two.]
[and why would anyone want to, anyhow? toilets were gross, and haunting them was boring, and it’s not like anyone saw anything worth it in her.]