Draco furrowed his eyebrows in confusion at first, as he looked down and saw a mirror image of himself, except the reflection of himself was on the floor in his own pool of blood.

Hermione stood facing him.

'Why are you looking like you've just seen...Oh Merlin', she said whilst turning round and seeing what the Boggart had become.

'Wh…What…', he stammered as he inched forward to get a closer view of the second him. 'Granger… why am I lying on the ground?'

She was silent for a second. 'I have no idea.' She muttered, taken aback.

An awkward silence engulfed the room. The blonde didn't know what to think.

'Well you obviously do, this is what you fear the most, after all.' Draco spoke, gently. 'Explain this?' his voice getting harder and more demanding.

Hermione looked like a deer caught in headlights. '…I-I-', she stuttered before promptly grabbing her bag and running out of the room.

Draco watched as she left, feeling something that felt like sadness, but he shook that thought off and quickly dismissed it for curiosity as to why her Boggart was him.

Suddenly his limp body on the floor changed in front of his eyes. Instead of seeing himself, he now saw his greatest fear- his Father.

With his heart racing, he slowly backed into the wall. He thought he got rid of his Father for a year, and now here he was… with that familiar look of disappointment upon his face, reminding Draco of what a letdown he is to the family name.

To the right of him, the door creaked open. He'd have missed it, if only the Boggart didn't immediately change back into the hurt version of himself.

He quickly glanced to the side to see Hermione, the person he was expecting. The person who, for a moment, he thought he wanted back in the room. Now he wanted her to be anywhere but here, now that she knows his greatest weakness. Draco Malfoy is not weak. It's in his blood to be strong.

Draco looked into her eyes, looking for a way to defend what had just happened, but couldn't find the words. Not knowing what to say, he looked at the hurt projection of himself, and just wished he could be with her alone- not with the weak, pathetic figure led down feeling sorry for himself in front of him.

He didn't really even understand his own thoughts. Why was he suddenly warming up to this bushy-haired, impure, joke of a witch?

By the time he looked up, she had vanished.