A/N: Hi! Thanks to all who have reviewed me - very kind and lovely! Here's the next chappie just for you!
As Draco sat, at the back as usual in Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts he really, really wondered why he'd made the effort to turn up when he could be feeling incredibly sorry for himself in his bed under the bedclothes sulking the day away.
The biggest factor was why he'd actually chosen Defence Against the Dark Arts for NEWT's in the first place. He didn't need defence, he needed to know how to do them properly and cause as much damage as possible apparently.
The other factors were he disliked the teacher, the half breed Lupin and Harry and Ron were always present, being awarded points for the most stupidest of reasons. It made Draco's blood boil to watch them at the front answering questions and romancing the class with their apparent humorous idiotism.
He supposed the only good thing was that he could sit at the back and do very little and the obvious other, Hermione was always present in the class too.
She still answered questions like it was going out of fashion but she had greatly matured and didn't take so much embarrassing pride in getting everything correct like she previously had a few years back.
Professor Lupin was prattling on for what seemed an age about how this year was so important to their futures and NEWT's were to be taken with extreme seriousness and there would be nothing but hard work and he expected the very best from each and everyone of them.
Draco looked as about enthusiastic as Ron Weasley did but that was only because Draco couldn't be bothered. He wasn't as stupid as Weasel or Merlin forbid, Longbottom.
"I know some of you may think this is pretty easy but it's worth your effort to make sure you can do the spell perfectly without any fault. Please form a line."
Draco rolled his eyes. They had to do Boggarts again. Boggarts, the easiest thing to over come. Thinking about it, Draco smiled wolfishly. Last time they did them, Potter kept fainting all over the place.
As Lavender was taking her turn first and Draco along with Crabbe and Goyle were skulking at the back, he thought it good opportunity to reminisce about their third year Dementor experience with his two friends but his plans were dashed almost as soon as they had begun.
"Draco, come and have a go next," Professor Lupin said loudly, motioning him to come up to the front.
Draco scoffed.
"Why not let Potter have another go or is he scared he'll see a big, bad Dementor again?"
A few people sniggered, most people sneered and Professor Lupin didn't look particularly impressed but he waited for Draco to drag himself to the front after he had smirked at Crabbe and Goyle.
On his way to the front, a thought came into his mind. What exactly was his worst fear…?
Oh Merlin, what if it turned into Lord Voldemort or his father?
Suddenly, it seemed not such a brilliant idea at all that he had a go.
"Actually sir," He began but there was no use trying to excuse himself. He'd just look pathetic in front of everyone and he wasn't prepared to show the class he was afraid of a Boggart.
He got to the beginning of the queue and looked at the wardrobe. Sweat was slowly beginning to form around his temples and he gripped his wand tightly to stop his hand from shaking.
Inside, he was cursing. He was Draco Malfoy, nothing was too big for him. Why should be afraid of what he was afraid of? It wouldn't turn into anything because he was afraid of nothing and no-one.
"Ready?" Lupin called and Draco stood, his eye trained on the wardrobe and jaw set, awaiting his fate rather grimly.
Lupin swished his wand the wardrobe door swung open.
What emerged startled absolutely everyone in the room, including Crabbe and Goyle, Potter and even Professor Lupin.
The door swung open and Hermione's dead body fell out onto the floor. Her hair was covering most of her face and it was matted with blood. She looked in an extremely bad way.
Draco couldn't actually move. He stood frozen, shocked and appalled at the sight and petrified that everyone was seeing that his worst fear was a dead Mudblood.
Hermione stared at her own dead and bloodied body in horror, her face as white as a sheet. Beside her stood Ron, the exact colour.
Draco couldn't even remember the word to make it go away. How could that turn into anything remotely funny? Draco doubted he'd ever laugh again actually.
The silence was deafening and Draco needed to get out, to stop the stares he was getting, to get rid of Hermione's dead body.
He managed to look to the real Hermione, and their eyes met briefly before she looked away nervously. She looked scared and confused. Horrified.
Draco turned on his heel and fled the room, cloak billowing behind him and never, ever wanting to see anyone in that room again.
As he ran toward Slytherin Dungeon, one thing was on his mind. If the Dark Lord did indeed get his hands on Hermione, that would be more than likely her fate.