Malfoy's Boggart

They were in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Professor Lupin was showing them how to defeat Boggarts. Longbottom, the soft idiot that he was, had Professor Snape as his boggart. Honestly, sometimes Draco wondered how the boy had gotten into Gryffindor when his worst fear was a school professor.

They were all in line. Everyone had the usual fears of teenagers, he thought. Snakes, Weasley's spider, monsters... And then it was his turn. Draco was oddly apprehensive. He had an inkling of what his boggart might be, and if it was indeed that, then he knew there was no way he'd be able to fight it.

Just as that thought passed through his mind, Lucius Malfoy stepped out of the wardrobe, and in that moment, Draco felt his breathing stop.

No. Not him. Anything but him.

Suddenly, Draco was overwhelmed by a mix of memory and nightmare- he never quite knew which was which anymore.

Draco is very small, three, four, and he is excited. "Father! I drewed a picture! I drewed it for you!" His father is having a meeting with some very important men, but Draco just wants his father to see the picture he drew.

Lucius' face darkens. "Draco, I told you to stay out." After the men he is speaking with excuse themselves and leave, he rounds on his small son, eyes glittering with fury. "Boy, you will do as I tell you! I have no tolerance for children who don't obey their superiors."

"But, Father, I drewed it for you." Draco says sadly, shoving the picture into his father's hands.

In a fury, Lucius slaps his son across the face.

Draco is seven. "Lucius, please, he didn't do anything wrong, leave the boy alone for once." His mother pleads, trying to protect him. Lucius hits her across the face and makes his way over to his son.

"You are a disgrace to this family." He spits. "How dare you embarrass me in front of the Minister for Magic." Lucius pulls out his wand from his staff, and rolls up his sleeve. Draco knows that means the whipping spell.

Crack. Draco cries out before he can stop himself. "SHUT UP! Malfoys don't cry, boy, I will NOT HAVE A WEAK SON!" Crack. Draco manages to stop himself this time, but his father continues, faster and faster. His mother is crying and holding her face, and Draco knows it will be a long time before his father's rage fades enough for him to stop.

Draco is eleven, and it is a week before September first. He is getting in trouble for talking to someone in Madam Malkin's. His father doesn't hit him on the face, he needs to be respectable while being out in public, but his ribs are pummeled, and as Draco's tears again the carpet he knows that he will never fear any man as much as his own father.

Back in the present, Draco had forgotten that he was surrounded by shocked classmates, several of them his sworn enemies. All he could see was his father before him, swelling with fury.

"I told you not to bother me, boy." Lucius snarled. "I warned you. And did you listen? Of course not." He slapped Draco across the face. "You worthless scum." Slap. "You deserve this." Slap. "You're a burden to our family."

Tears were streaming down Draco's face, he was begging for his father to stop, please, he was sorry, he didn't like being hit, he wanted it to stop.

"Ridikulus!" Cried a voice, and abruptly the boggart was banished into the wardrobe.

Slowly, Draco realized the horrible humiliation that he just let himself get beat by his father in front of his friends and his enemies. Turning to see his rescuer, he realized with horror that it was Potter.

Everyone was staring at him. Draco was suddenly darkly aware of the hand-shaped bruises forming on his face, and he couldn't stand it anymore. He ran out of the room, fresh tears on his bruised cheeks.

Three days later, nobody had asked him about the incident, except for Blaise telling him that Lupin made them swear to secrecy. Draco was thankful. He didn't want word to get to his father- he'd be punished, and he didn't want to see how far his father would go.

He was wandering the hallways alone when he realized with a thrill of horror that Potter was right next to him. He looked like he wanted to talk, and Draco most certainly did not.

"Malfoy, I just wanted to-"

"Leave me alone." Draco snapped. "It's none of your business."

Potter looked closely at him, as though checking for bruises despite the fact that Draco had healed them as soon as he had bee able to speak clearly. "I know what it's like, you know. To be punished."

Draco stared at Potter in shock. He didn't have any idea who could possibly punish Potter. His parents were dead, wouldn't he live with Muggles? Why would Muggles punish someone? "Who-"

"My aunt and uncle." He said quietly. "They hate magic, and if I have an outburst I get locked in my room for weeks on end with all my food cold and coming through a cat flap. If I really get in trouble I'm locked in the cupboard under the stairs."

The two boys were quiet. There was nothing left to say. Except for one thing. "Th-thank you." He forced out.

"Er... What?" Potter looked shocked.

He gulped. "Thank you for not... Not letting him keep... You know. I couldn't have done anything myself."

Potter looked awkward. "I'd have done it for anyone."

"I know." He admitted. Then he straightened. "Erm, so, now that that's over with, let's never mention it again, shall we?"

"Yes, let's." Potter agreed, looking relieved.

As Potter left, Draco thought idly that maybe he wasn't so bad after all. And perhaps he didn't deserve his father's beatings.

Hey, guys, Author here!

Just a little Draco drabble.

Also, I am currently developing a non-magical mafia AU with Draco as the main character, so keep your eyes open for that in the future!

Please let me know what you think,

Trellya