Draco felt like he was going to burst from the feeling inside of him. He knew what it was though, it was fear. He was scared, and he didn't like it. He felt something wet on his cheeks then, tears. He was crying, crying out of fear. Malfoy's didn't cry, at least not in front of anyone, and especially not out of fear. He couldn't let anyone see him like this. He ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, until he reached the boy's lavatories.
Draco went into the boy's lavatories and locked himself in a stall. He sat on top of the toilet seat cover and placed his head in his hands. Tears were pouring out of his eyes like a waterfall down a mountain or a cliff. He couldn't do this; You-Know-Who would kill him. Though Aunt Bellatrix would probably torture him first. His mother and his father wouldn't intervene; they were both too scared, they were both cowards.
He let the tears pour out all over the lavatory floor until his eyes were dry. When he finally settled down, he unlocked the stall and walked over to the sink, splashing water on his face so it wouldn't look like he had cried. Putting up his mental walls and stone-cold exterior, Draco left the boy's lavatory and march down the hallways of Hogwarts.
Later, he would be back and his trips to the lavatory would be made into a weekly, sometimes daily, routine. He felt like he was going to burst from the feeling inside of him. He knew what it was though, it was fear. He was scared.