As soon as classes finished for the day, Harry and Hermione hurried to the hospital wing. They hadn't been scheduled to have any further classes with the Slytherins that day, but they hadn't run into Draco in the corridors either, and they were anxious to find out how he was doing after his encounter with the hippogriff. They reached the ward and entered quickly, only to stop short when they realized Draco wasn't alone.
"What on earth are you doing here?" Hermione demanded, eyes narrowed at the girl sitting by Draco's bed. Draco himself appeared to be either asleep or unconscious, his eyes closed and his body unresponsive.
"Do I need a reason?" Pansy Parkinson retorted, crossing her arms defiantly over her chest. "You're the one who said Slytherins look out for their own, Granger."
"Be that as it may," Hermione said, cautiously creeping forward, "I still don't understand why you are here."
"And what makes you think I'll bother to tell you?" Pansy sniffed, tossing her dark hair and turning up her pug-like nose. "There are some things I can't imagine an uncivilized Mudblood like you would understand."
"Miss Parkinson, I will not stand for such language in my ward!" Harry and Hermione jumped – they'd both whipped out their wands at Pansy's words, but none of the teenagers had noticed Madam Pomfrey's appearance. She held a slightly smoking goblet of bright green potion and looked furious.
"You can either mind your tongue, or you can leave," Madam Pomfrey instructed. "That goes for all of you – this is a hospital wing, and I'll not have you causing a commotion when there's healing to be done." The matron bustled over to Draco's bed and deposited the goblet onto the little nightstand beside it, instructing them to have the blonde drink the potion if he woke while they were still there.
"Yes ma'am," Harry murmured. Hermione also nodded her assent, but Pansy merely sniffed again and vacated her chair.
"I guess I'll be going, then," she said haughtily. "I certainly shan't remain in such undesirable company any longer." Grabbing her bag, which had been sitting on the floor next to her chair, she swung it over her shoulder before sneering at them one last time and stalking out of the ward without another word.
"What's got her wand in a knot?" Harry muttered as he and Hermione took chairs on either side of Draco's bed. "'Undesirable company,' honestly – if anyone's undesirable, it's her."
"You got that right," a third voice chimed in. The Gryffindors turned to see Draco staring at them, now wide-awake.
"Draco…have you been awake this entire time?" Hermione asked incredulously. Draco smirked.
"Of course I have," he replied, "but did you honestly think I was going to let Parkinson know that? She'd been sitting here for nearly half an hour by the time you two showed up, and she did nothing but prattle on the entire time – you guys saved me, really."
"I still don't get why she was here," Hermione muttered as she searched for something in her bag. "Blaise or Tracey I could understand – they're your friends – but Parkinson?" Harry took advantage of Hermione's distraction to give Draco a significant look – he had a potential answer to Hermione's question, but he certainly wasn't going to voice it in front of her, even if he turned out to be completely wrong. As if confirming his suspicions, Draco rolled his eyes and nodded.
"How's your arm?" Harry asked, hastily changing the subject. The last thing he wanted was for Hermione to notice that something was off.
"Eh, it's alright," Draco replied, scooting himself up to a sitting position and pushing down the sheets to reveal a thick bandage. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about five minutes, of course – which was good coz she got rid of the pain, it was hurting like hell until then – but Buckbeak's talon went deep enough to tear muscle, so she wants me to stay in here overnight to make sure everything knits back together properly." He reached for the goblet of potion and downed it in one go, making a face as he quickly chased the medicine with some water. "Ugh, this stuff's disgusting – right up there with Polyjuice. I'm gonna kill Nott when I see him next, housemate or no housemate." The Gryffindors chuckled darkly, just as eager as their Slytherin comrade to see justice done.
"I should probably get going," Hermione said then, sounding a tad regretful. "I've got a lot of work to do and can't afford to fall behind this year."
"You mean thanks to your impossible schedule?" Harry quipped. Hermione glared at him.
"It's not impossible, just a tad difficult," she huffed. "I'll make it work."
"Maya, I was just joking," Harry said, shaking his head at her and reaching over Draco to give her arm a squeeze. "I know if anyone can handle it, it's you."
"I'll see you at dinner, then," Hermione replied with a small smile of her own. "Hope to see you tomorrow at breakfast, Dragon." She hugged each of the boys in turn, taking care to avoid Draco's injured arm, and headed off with a wave.
As soon as Hermione was gone, Harry turned back to his brother.
"Alright, spill," he demanded, leaning his chair back on two legs. "Parkinson likes you, doesn't she?"
"Ugh, Harry," Draco groaned, running his hands over his face, "Did you really have to say that out loud?"
"It was kind of the obvious conclusion, mate," Harry said with a shrug. "How long has this been going on?" Draco bit his lip and frowned in thought.
"If I had to guess, I'd say it started when I gave my housemates that little talking-to last year," he finally said. "For the rest of the year, while it still seemed like she hated me, she didn't outwardly show it anymore, and she'd snap at anyone who dared try to cross me – it was really irritating, since I'd already taken care of the situations whenever she'd decide to butt in, but I mostly just ignored her – it's way better than having to listen to her talk, anyway."
"Agreed," Harry said, gesturing for Draco to continue.
"This year…Merlin, this was only our first day of classes, but it feels like we've been back so much longer! Parkinson actively tried to talk to me at the feast and in the common room last night, as well as during classes throughout the day, and her mannerisms towards me have completely changed."
"She hasn't tried to…do anything, has she?" Harry asked hesitantly. The thought of girls in that context still weirded him out a bit, and this was Pansy Parkinson.
"Thankfully, no," Draco said with a shudder, "but I wouldn't put it past her to try. I've seen her go into 'openly flirtatious' mode before, and trust me, it's definitely not something I want to see directed towards me."
"Well, obviously," Harry muttered, so quietly that Draco almost didn't hear him. He smirked when his brother flushed and didn't say anything – Harry wasn't going to bring it up now, but he had a feeling he knew who Draco would rather have crushing on him, and it certainly wasn't Pansy. Instead, he said, "You'd better do something about it before she takes anything further than you want her to."
"Like what?" Draco asked exasperatedly. "This is Pansy Parkinson we're talking about."
"And you're Draco Black," Harry reminded him. "Black – and Malfoy – trumps Parkinson any day of the week. You're a Slytherin, so if you have to, act like one." Draco looked thoughtful.
"You're right," he said. "I've already proven once that I can get a whole bunch of Slytherins to back off – if I can do it with the lot of them, I can do it with Parkinson."
"That's the spirit," Harry said, clapping his brother on his good shoulder. He checked his watch and frowned. "I should probably get going – Hermione wasn't kidding when she said we have a lot of work to do. I'll try to stop by after dinner, but if I don't, I'll see you tomorrow."
"Alright," Draco said as he readjusted his pillows and picked up a book. "See you later, Harry."
Two days later, the Gryffindor third-years had their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class of the term. Harry and Hermione eagerly led their housemates to the classroom, excited to see what Professor Lupin had in store for them – if his lessons were even half as interesting as the work they'd done with him over the summer, it would prove to be an exciting year. They'd all settled themselves into their seats by the time Professor Lupin arrived.
"Good afternoon, class," he said, striding leisurely to the front of the room. "Good afternoon, and welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts. My name is Remus Lupin, and I'm looking forward to getting to know each of you better. We'll be tackling a number of different subjects this term, starting with a series of creatures I think it'd be helpful for you to recognize. Today's will be a practical lesson, so please bring your wands and follow me – you can come back to collect the rest of your things at the end of class." The Gryffindors broke into excited whispers at Lupin's statement – they'd never had a practical Defense class before, so this was bound to be interesting. One by one, they followed their new teacher out of the classroom and through the castle. Professor Lupin finally stopped when he reached the staff room door.
"Inside, please," he requested, holding the door open for the class. They filed in slowly and formed a semi-circle, unsure of what else to do. Professor Lupin did a quick roll call before turning their attention to an old wardrobe on the far wall of the room. As soon as the Gryffindors focused on the wardrobe, it shuddered violently, rocking slightly on its two front legs and hitting the wall again with a loud thunk.
"What you just heard," Lupin began, smiling a little at his students' odd expressions, "was a boggart, our first subject of study. Can anyone tell me what a boggart is?" As was often the case, Hermione raised her hand first.
"It's a shape-shifter," she said when Lupin motioned for her to answer. "Boggarts take the form of whatever they think will frighten us most."
"Excellent answer, Hermione," Lupin said, giving her a warm smile. "Ten points to Gryffindor. Now, we have an advantage over the boggart before we even begin – has anyone spotted it?" Harry thought he had an idea and raised his hand.
"Erm – there are a bunch of us, so it won't know what form to take?" he offered.
"Precisely," Lupin replied. "Take another ten points. It's always best to bring a friend when tackling a boggart, as you'll have a better chance at confusing, and therefore overpowering, the creature. For you see, the key to defeating a boggart is laughter – there is a spell, but the humor behind the spell is what does the trick. You must think of a way to make your boggart amusing and focus on that change while saying the spell." He then taught them the spell itself – 'Riddikulus!' – and gave them a minute to think about the form their boggart might assume, and how they might make it funny. Harry frowned, trying to block out the mutterings coming from Ron on his right side and Hermione on his left. What form would his boggart take? His thoughts immediately went to the dementor from the train – that definitely qualified as scary, but how could he make it comical? He was still thinking about it when Professor Lupin called the first student forward and unlocked the wardrobe.
Neville happened to be first in line, and as a result, the boggart took the form of someone the Gryffindors all knew quite well – Professor Snape. It wasn't exactly a secret that the sour-tempered man set Neville on edge, as the boy routinely had trouble in Potions class and never managed to respond to Snape's questions without stammering. It was a shame, really – Neville performed reasonably well in his other classes and outshone nearly everyone in Herbology, but the Slytherins routinely tormented him for his inability to hold himself together in Potions. Neville was working hard to rectify the situation, but he still had a long way to go. Judging by the determined look on his friend's face, Harry guessed that Neville really wanted to use this moment to prove himself, even if the Snape stalking towards him wasn't real.
"Riddikulus!" Neville managed, and Snape nearly tripped on the long dress he now wore. The garment was bright green, matronly, and overly frilly, and accompanied by a large hat topped with a stuffed vulture and an enormous crimson handbag. Harry recognized the garb as similar to that frequently worn by Neville's grandmother, whom he'd met a few times when she'd come to tea, and couldn't help but laugh. The chuckles from his classmates soon turned into guffaws as boggart-Snape turned bright red, and Lupin hurried the next student forward.
The next several minutes had the Gryffindors alternating between gasping in fright and clutching their sides in laughter as the boggart changed form again and again. A wailing banshee lost her voice, a large rat chased its tail in a circle, monsters under the bed became friendly little Crup puppies that yipped and jumped…
"It's confused!" Lupin shouted encouragingly as the class laughed once more. "Ron, forward!" Ron paled, and Harry immediately understood his roommate's anxiety as the boggart transformed into a monstrous Acromantula, six feet tall and easily the biggest spider any of them had ever seen. A few people gasped and automatically stepped back, and Ron seemed temporarily frozen until Harry prodded him in the back with his wand. Snapping to his senses, Ron cried, "Riddikulus!" and the spider's legs vanished, leaving its hairy black body to roll uselessly across the floor.
Harry stepped up next and the spider vanished, along with all external noise. The room grew immensely cold as the dementor glided forward, its scabby hand slowly extending from beneath its cloak. Harry gulped loudly, trying to ignore the rushing in his ears and the echoes of his father's death that he was now beginning to hear.
"It's just a boggart," he thought to himself. "You can do this." He swallowed heavily once more, raised his wand, and cried, "Riddikulus!" The sun came out and brightly colored flowers and chirping birds surrounded the dementor, which balked at the light and warmth. When a rainbow joined the overly cheerful scene, the dementor suddenly melted into a nondescript puddle on the floor, à la the Wicked Witch of the West.
"Take that," Harry thought to the puddle, which smelled faintly of licorice and dark chocolate.
As soon as Harry stepped back, the sunny tableau vanished. At first, the class looked around in confusion, unsure of where the boggart had gone, but a creak from the wardrobe door caught their attention, and Harry gasped in shock at the figure who emerged.
It was Draco.
Boggart-Draco was a little older than the real person – probably sixteen or seventeen, if his matured features and taller stance were anything to go by – but it was unquestionably him. There was definitely something wrong, though. This Draco carried none of the warmth or easygoing humor of Harry's brother, and he sneered at the Gryffindors as he sauntered towards them like a panther stalking its prey. By far the worst part was his eyes, which were cold and unfeeling, cutting straight through them like steel. Boggart-Draco twirled his wand casually between his fingers, coming to a halt in front of Hermione.
Hermione…Harry's heart jolted when he realized this was her boggart, and he realized he didn't want to witness whatever was about to happen. He'd expected something related to failure – Hermione had incredibly high standards and was always hardest on herself when she didn't meet them – but this? This was bound to be much, much worse.
"D-Draco," Hermione stammered, her eyes wide and scared.
"Since when do you have the right to call me by my given name, Granger?" he growled in response. Hermione gasped.
"I…I…"
"Save it," boggart-Draco spat, glaring at Hermione with a look Harry hoped never to see on his brother's face again. "I've told you before, but clearly, the message hasn't sunk into that thick head of yours. I am a Malfoy, and you are nothing." He paused and unbuttoned his left sleeve, pushing back the expensive material to reveal the Dark Mark, the sickening black tattoo a stark contrast to his pale skin.
"I am a Malfoy," he repeated, raising his wand to point it at Hermione, "and you are nothing, Granger – nothing but a filthy little Mudblood."
Lupin leapt between Hermione and the boggart, its form immediately shifting to that of what Harry recognized as the full moon before Lupin forced it back into its prison, but the damage was done. The Gryffindors stared in shocked silence at the now-closed wardrobe, the only sound in the room Hermione's sobs as she slowly sank to the floor.
A/N: Here's chapter 4! I've had this one - well, the latter half of it, anyway - in my head for quite a while, so I'd love to hear your thoughts. Not quite sure yet what's in store for the next chapter, but hopefully it won't be quite as depressing as the last few!
Thank you, as always, for the follows/faves/reviews! I love hearing what you guys think of my story (& would always love to hear more - just saying.)
JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & I hope you enjoy! :)