Boggart

Boggart

Draco hated Defense Against the Dark Arts.

They never learned anything; the past two teachers had been more interested in what was on their heads then on how to prevent a grindylow from ripping one's head off from one's shoulders. He'd never absorbed any of what he had carefully noted and memorized for the exams. None of it had stuck, not even the pixies, although the sight of Longbottom dangling from the rafters had him chuckling for days after.

No, he hated that class for the simple fact that it made him face every day the one thing he tryed to forget every night, when sleep evaded him faster then that bloody snitch. It made him remember that he would never escape his father's desire for him to follow in his footsteps of kissing Voldemort's arse.

It took Draco all summer to realise the true reason behind his disgust; it took him five minutes to figure out that he never wanted to step foot in the classroom ever again, despite his perfect scores.

But today, now today was another story.

The new professor, a quiet, shabby man with the horrible chance of being connected to Potter's father, actually had a practical lesson. They, beyond any surprise from Draco, were going to use their wands for the first time in the history of the DADA class.

Professor Lupin had a boggart.

Draco felt like he'd never stop laughing, if his arm weren't paining him every few seconds. Crabbe and Goyle had pushed their way to the back of the class and Draco decided, because of the amount of people in the class, that they'd never even look at the thing before Lupin would have to release them for their next class. Draco, on the other hand, was eager and willing to face the thing, if only to prove himself in front of his house. He broke in front of Pansy, who stopped her complaints short with one glare from him.

Weasley, with his usual dumb luck, went first. Draco let out a loud snicker when the boggart flashed into a huge tarantula, perfect blackmail for the next time the mudblood lover opened his yap at Slytherin. The Weasel, being the unimaginative git he was, put the bloody thing in tap shoes. Very original.

Another girl that he didn't recognize went next and after the whole clown episode, he politely blocked out everyone else by plotting his next Potty Prank, as he so eloquently called it.

Before he even blinked, Draco felt Pansy pushing him forward.

"Mr. Malfoy, you're holding up the line," Professor Lupin said hoarsely.

Draco smirked and strutted forward, holding his wand in his right hand, his left tucked out of the way in the sling around his neck. His eyes tracked the boggart as it whirled in front of him.

The sight that materialized before him knocked any incantation straight out of his head. In front of him stood a masked Death Eater, dressed in all its muggle hating glory of floating pitch black cloaks, white mask included. A deathly silence fell over the classroom as Draco's heart jumped into his throat. Professor Lupin's eyebrows rose but he did not move from his postion beside the record player, which, despite the silence, kept ranking out the tasteless music favored by Gryffindors alike.

"Would you look at that? The git's scared of his own dad!" Weasley crowed.

"Hush, Ron," Granger hissed.

Draco felt planted in place, his body refusing to move. The Death Eater seemed to virtually float as it moved to stand directly in front of him. Glancing at the professor, he saw that he could find no help there. His own friends were cowering behind him, probably prepared to bail out at the first chance.

He gulped as a cloaked hand began to slowly rise up and slender hands clenched the edge of the mask. As the mask fell away, Draco began to feel oddly ill. Behind the mask was his face, a perfect reflection down to the mole right above his left eyebrow. His doppelganger grinned maliciously at him and raised his wand, the same ebony wand that now lay useless in Draco's right and pointed its tip right between Draco's eyes.

"Avada Kedavra," the doppelganger chanted in perfect imitation.

Draco gasped and ,whirling around, grabbed his bag in his good hand and got the hell out of there. He could hear the class erupt and Professor Lupin call his name but he didn't turn back, not for a second.

Running down the corridors at top speed, he collapsed at the top of stairs leading down into the dungeons. His hands shaking, he quickly stowed his wand in his pocket.

There was no way that Draco would ever step foot in that class again; they couldn't bribe him enough to go through that again.

And now it would be all over school about the fact that Draco Malfoy's greatest fear was himself as his father wanted. His greatest fear that he'd never find the strength to stand against Lucius Malfoy and spend his days in perfect worship, obeying his father and their Lord's ever word.

He sobbed and laughed at the same time, the sound echoing in the open area.

"This has to be a dream...It just has to be," he repeated over and over to himself, "it can't be true."

Rubbing his eyes, he looked down at his hurt arm. A crazy idea formed in his head and using his right hand, he pinched himself hard in the upper arm.

He yelped and sat up quickly, banging his head on the drapery rods surrounding his bed. Wincing as tears formed in the corners of his eyes, Draco jumped out of bed. Making his slow, clumsy way to the bathroom, he looked himself straight in the mirror.

Everything about him appeared to be the same, his white hair slightly disheveled, his mole still in its rightful place.

"It was only a dream," he said, relief flooding him.

Now if only the sinking feeling would go away before his first DADA class of the year.