Ron was desperate. Did it mean that Malfoy wasn't afraid of anything, if nothing was coming out of the cupboard? That wasn't possible, right? Everyone had to have at least one small, tiny fear, right?

They were all staring, still, waiting for the Boggart to come out of the darkness. Even Lupin was taken aback and staring intently at it.

Then, finally, something started to come out. It started with a long and dark stick. They all quickly understood when they saw the snake on top, enclosed by long fingers, that it was Lucius Malfoy's cane. Draco instantly stepped back. It couldn't be. It was impossible, he wasn't actually afraid of his father.

Ron smirked, muttering to Harry, "Draco My-Father-Will-Hear-About-This Malfoy is afraid of his daddy?" The boys tried to contain their laughter. Hermione would have told them off is she hadn't been so eager to find out what was going to happen. She couldn't look away. Nobody could.

Pansy was tense, unable to grasp the reality of it. She knew how close Draco was to his parents. He had never seemed afraid of Mister Malfoy. Obedient, he was. But not fearful.

Lucius stepped down of the cupboard with an unfathomable expression on his face and his other arm was still inside the darkness. His long hair flew as he turned, directing his attention on something behind him. He finally got his other hand out and the students noticed that he was holding somebody else's. Slowly, carefully and grimacing, his wife Narcissa stepped out of the cupboard too. Once they were both standing outside of the furniture, they turned to their son and started approaching, still holding each other.

What were his parents doing here? Draco still couldn't get it, and his brain refused to believe this was his Boggart. So, he slowly lowered his wand. He couldn't point it at either of them, never. While nobody could read Lucius' face, Draco recognised the glow in his eyes. He had seen it before. It was a weird mix between anger and disgust. He could read his mother's expression too, unfortunately, and it was only reinforcing the effect of the tears that were rolling down her cheeks. Draco felt sick.

"Draco, your wand," he heard a voice say. It seemed to be coming from far away, he didn't even recognise Lupin. His head was spinning as he slowly looked down at his mother's feet. He saw the thick liquid that was dripping from her coat. He knew what that meant. He now knew what his worst fear was. He should have known as soon as his father had appeared, he should have known as soon as he saw the look in his eyes. He had so many nightmares about this, he should have known before he saw the tears on his mother's cheeks.

Having them stand right in front of him, he couldn't tell the difference with a Boggart. There was nothing betraying its nature.

He couldn't raise his wand again. No one was laughing anymore, even Ron has stopped when Narcissa started to undo the only button keeping her coat closed, letting everyone discover the injury that was soaking her dress with blood.

Lucius didn't let go of his wife as he raised his cane. He was holding the top tightly and he shook his hand once, abruptly. There was a click and the empty cane fell on the floor. The sound echoed through Draco's brain even though the cane disappeared as soon as it had left the ensemble.

"Draco," the boy heard again but he still didn't pay any attention to the voice.

Instead, he listened to his father. Draco had hears the words in his nightmares again and again, he knew exactly what his father was about to say, yet it didn't reduce the gut wrenching effect his father's venom had on him.

"I should have left you to die," Lucius said coldly.

Draco's eyes watered as his father raised his wand. He stepped back once again, he couldn't help it. Now, he was afraid. Not of his parents, not of the Killing Curse his father would always use in his nightmare. His worst fear wasn't even hurting his parents. That was just the appearance the boggart had assumed, since it was where his worst fear stemmed from. But how was the Boggart supposed to take the appearance of Draco's fear if what kept him up at night was Draco's existence itself?

Draco felt something on his shoulder, a hand grabbing him and pulling him away from the scene. The Boggart immediately shifted and soon, his parents were gone, replaced by a full moon.

"Riddikulus!"

Draco didn't watch as the Boggart finally disappeared. His eyes were on the back of Lupin's head.

Nobody moved. No one knew what to do. After a moment, Lupin turned to Draco, placing a hand on his shoulder once again as their eyes met. Draco didn't move, he stared back, as if he was looking right through the man. Then, very slowly, he looked down. He wouldn't let his chin shake, he wouldn't give him the pleasure.

Their bell rang but no one left, and Draco had barely heard it. He didn't hear his professor when Lupin asked for the second time if he was alright.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" He almost whispered. Lupin frowned, trying to meet his eyes again.

"What? Of course not," he said, trying to speak softly. He had been as surprised and shocked as everyone. He had been sure the Boggart would turn into a moon, never into hadn't even thought of Draco when he had found the Boggart. Once the exercise had started, yes, he had wanted Draco to participate. But never would he have planned such a terrible experience. He wanted to help him, he wanted him to face his fear. He never expected the lesson to end this way.

Lupin looked up, noticing that no one had left. They were all shaken up, he even noticed Hermione still had her hand clasped to her mouth. He cleared his throat, putting his other hand on Draco's other shoulder.

"You can go," he told the class. They didn't move right away. "Go on."

Finally, they turned, grabbed their bags and walked out of the room. Harry had to pat Hermione on the shoulder before she reacted, breaking eye contact with Lupin.

Draco still hadn't moved. He wanted to leave but he didn't want to face anyone ever again in his whole entire life. He was so ashamed. He knew it wasn't true, he knew he should avec reacted and used the spell. Why didn't he do it? He was such an idiot.

"Draco, listen to me," Lupin said, but Draco didn't want to. He didn't want to hear him, he didn't want to look at him, he didn't want to be around him. He grabbed Lupin's arms and pushed them away.

"What for?" He asked aggressively.

"Draco—"

"Why can't you just leave me alone?"

He turned around and stormed out of the classroom, catching Harry, Ron and Hermione's attention. They thought Draco would have a long talk with their professor, but they hadn't even had time to reach the end of the corridor. The trio had turned to look at Draco and he walked past them, bumping hard against Ron's shoulder. He made his way through the other students, elbowing them if needed, and Harry noticed that even Pansy wasn't following him, she just looked incredibly concerned.

Ron was rubbing his shoulder. "What was that all about anyway?" He asked, looking at Harry who simply shrugged. They heard a loud and impatient tuh coming from Hermione. She wasn't really back to her senses yet but she was able to be over their questions.

"Isn't it obvious?" She asked them. It was, she couldn't understand how oblivious everyone could be. But she was not about to tell anything about Draco, or Lupin for that matter. She looked at the other students. Malfoy was gone now.

.

Draco didn't know how he had managed to find his way to the bathroom that fast. He wasn't even sure of where he was in the castle, he just knew he didn't want to go to his common room, he didn't want to see anyone. He ignored the "out of order" sign at the entrance and he closed the door behind him. He removed his bag from his shoulder and flung it across the room out of anger. It fell on the floor, rolls of parchments falling out, stained by his broken ink bottle. He leaned against the door and let the back of his head hit it. It didn't hurt him, and if it did, he didn't feel it. What he was feeling were the tears streaming down his cheeks. He couldn't get his parents out of his mind. He couldn't get the night he was bitten out of his head. He slid against the door and sat on the floor, his head against his knees as he cried loudly.

He had always been surprised by how vividly he could remember the attack. It didn't matter if he had lost consciousness at some point, if it had happened years ago. Whenever he thought of it, he felt like he was back in the castle, fangs piercing his body. He could remember the huge bay window in the room. At some point, he had even stood up to look through it. He had seen the bright full moon in the clear night sky. He could remember the noise outside the door, how worried he had immediately been. Like a coward. How was he Lucius Malfoy's son?
The crack of the door echoed in his head, followed by the roar of the beast as the scene kept playing in his mind. Just like in that bathroom, tears had rolled down his face, his entire body shaking. He had pushed himself backwards on the couch, until he fell from its side, hurting his wrist, before the beast had jumped on him.

Trembling, his hand reached his side, closing tightly on his ribs, until it hurt more than the memory of the burning pain that had shot through his body when he was bitten. He even stupidly thought he had caught fire, at the time.

He let go of his ribs and hit the side of his head with his hand. He just wanted to think of something else, but he couldn't help it. He pressed his palms against his eyes, his fingers closing and pulling on his hair as he moaned in despair.

.

He couldn't die, his mother wasn't there.

But alas, it was the end.

He was cold, now. So cold. Echoes were surrounding him, far away voices, trying to reach him, to come as close as the hands on his body were. He could feel them, he could hear them, but he couldn't react. He just wanted to go home. He just wanted to be in his parents' arms. He wanted to leave this night behind, he wished he had never insisted, he wished he had never followed his father in that place.

But he couldn't get back to them. No one could get him back, even the hands were gone, they had let him slip away. And now that he was falling, how would they ever catch him? He was falling… falling… or was he floating?

He never realised his father had lifted him off the floor to carry him home. His side wasn't hurting anymore, he couldn't even feel that part of his body.

Alas, it was the end.

.

When the small boy opened his eyes, he was surprised to be feeling this comfortable. Maybe death wasn't so bad, after all. A thought struck him. Was he a ghost? He gulped, which made him feel as if he was missing air. He breathed quickly, burning his lungs and his throat. If he was breathing, he couldn't possibly be a ghost. But what did he know about ghosts anyway?

Finally, he moved his fingers. He was definitely in a bed. He turned his head very slowly, his entire body aching. He had the worst headache anyone could ever have, he was sure.

His eyelids were heavy but he tried to keep them open. He noticed that the door of the room was slightly opened, letting a ray of light in the room. It was enough for the boy to recognise his own bedroom. Was he to spend his eternity in the Manor, floating around his parents, hurting them whenever he would appear to them?

He realised that he wasn't a ghost when he finally noticed his mother. She was next to him, on a big armchair. Her seat was usually near the fireplace… so it truly wasn't a dream. He wasn't dead, and the incident was real.

His mother was asleep. He could tell because even if he couldn't clearly make out her features, he recognised her steady breathing in a heartbeat.

His father wasn't there. Draco had opened his mouth to call his mother, he wanted her closer, but his throat was so dry that he coughed instead. At least, it did wake his mother. She was startled yet on her feet at once and even faster on the bed next to her son. Clearly, she didn't deliberately fall asleep. She had anxiously been waiting for her son to show any sign of life. She took a glass of water that was sitting on the bedside table and Draco felt her hand on the back of his head as she helped him drink. He slowly raised his hands, weakly gripping the glass with one of them, the other landing on his mother's wrist. The water made him feel a bit better already. It was cold and it was a nice feeling to his chest. Narcissa only removed the glass from his lips when he pushed it away and as soon as it was back on the table, she cupped her son's head. Her eyes were filled with tears, her hands cold and he hurried to try and move away, just to give her more room so that she could come under the covers with him. She was probably freezing, wasn't she? He couldn't tell that his mother wasn't cold at all. His cheeks were hot with his fever. She placed a hand on his bare chest and he stopped trying to move at once.

"My son…" Narcissa said quietly, her fingers caressing his cheek, then running through his hair. "My son…"

"Mother…" Draco finally muttered. His mother sobbed and immediately came closer. He reacher for her, he wanted to be in her arms, and she wanted him in her arms.

She held him close against her body for a long time. So long, in fact, that Draco felt drowsy again. His head against her chest, he closed his eyes, listening to her regular heartbeat, to her whispers, enjoying her fingers in his hair.

When he opened his eyes again, he was still in her arms. She hadn't moved or stopped her caresses and he never even noticed that he had fallen asleep.

"Where's Father?" He whispered, a weird sensation growing in one side of his body.

"He will be back soon… He is taking care of everything…" Narcissa said on the same tone. They both had closed their eyes and listened to each other's breathing for a while.

His father was taking care of everything, so it would be alright.

His ears were burning and he opened his eyes with a start. Narcissa held him tighter, worried. She looked at her son with an inquisitive look. His eyes were wide open but he couldn't say anything, he couldn't even move. In his head, he had seen its face. He couldn't stand it.

"Mother," he managed to articulate, "I don't want to die…"

Narcissa had a faint smile on her face now, and he felt reassured at once. "You're safe, now, baby. You don't have to worry about a thing."

"But Mother," Draco continued, a tremor in his voice. He didn't want to keep talking, afraid he would start crying, afraid his mother would stop holding him, but he couldn't keep his thoughts to himself, he was so afraid. "I don't want to live like that either…" he confessed.

She didn't let go of him, but her caresses in his hair had stopped. She was tense, he could tell, and Draco felt his chin shake. His grip on his mother's clothes became tighter. She couldn't let go of him, he didn't want her to.

"Draco," Narcissa said softly. Her boy moved, turned, and he was finally able to look her in the eye.

"Father is taking care of everything," he said, "surely, he will find a solution, won't he?"

Taken aback, Narcissa didn't say anything. She kept staring at his grey eyes, shining because of the tears menacing to fall down on his pale little cheekbones.

"He can do anything… Father can do anything… He'll help me, won't he?" Draco continued.

He felt his mother's hand on his cheek and he closed his eyes when she kissed his burning forehead.

.

Draco was startled when he heard a horrible noise coming from the pipes. It sounded like something was banging on them from the inside. It had the merit of getting him out of his memories, but he was now worried. He pushed himself up, staring at the stalls on the other side of the room. He dried his cheeks with his sleeve, wishing his body would stop shaking. He was almost certain Peeves was about to come out and there was no way he would let the poltergeist witness his loneliness. Then, emerging from one of the toilets with great splashes of water, a ghost did appear. It left its stall by floating through the door and it hovered over the puddle it had just created.

"Can't a girl sleep in peace?" The ghost yelled, looking around to find the source of her anger. When she noticed Draco, her eyes became the shape of her glasses. She quickly flew and stopped right in front of the Slytherin boy. "Don't you know this is the girls bathroom?" She yelled.

Draco, still in shock, stammered before he could finally pronounce half a decent sentence, "I didn't pay attention…"

"You didn't pay attention!" The ghost repeated in a piercing shriek. "Get out of here!"

Admittedly, he really wanted to leave. In the end, maybe he was ready to face the other students. Better that than getting yelled at by a maddening, speccy ghost in Ravenclaw robes. Yet, he had to get his stuff first. He vaguely raised his arm to indicate his bag.

"I'll go, I'll just… My stuff's there," he said, walking along the wall to get away from the ghost without having to walk right through her.

She watched him hurry towards his open bag. Draco got his wand out as the ghost hovered towards him.

"Reparo," he said, flicking his wand towards the ink bottle. It was useless but at least, he felt like he had done something right that day. Pathetic, he thought. And his work was ruined. He picked up the stained parchments and put them back in his bag. At least, he had an excuse to hide in the library and avoid anyone's company. When he turned around, holding his back in his arms, he jumped back.

"What happened to your stuff?" The ghost inquired. She had been standing right behind Draco, observing what he was doing.

"Nothing," Draco mumbled, stepping sideways to leave. But the ghost placed herself in front of him.

"Liar!" She yelled. Then, she drastically softened her tone. "Did somebody else do this?"

"No," Draco said, getting more annoyed by the second.

"Liar," she repeated, calmly this time. "You were crying."

"So?" Draco asked defensively.

The ghost sighed loudly, floating away but still facing Draco. "I used to cry a lot in here too… Still do," she said.

Draco frowned. "Look, I don't know who you are or what's your problem, but—"

"I told you to stop lying!" She screamed.

"I'm not lying!" Draco screamed right back, startling her. He saw her eyes fill with tears and he turned his head so she wouldn't see him roll his eyes as he kept his deep sigh in his chest.

"Look, I had a bad day, alright? I came here by accident, and I threw my bag on the floor. Satisfied?"

The ghost changed trajectory and flew all around the room, spinning as she got altitude. "Every single day has been terrible for me, in this dreadful place…"

"Well. You do live in a toilet."

The ghost flew right back in front of Draco. "When I was alive!" She yelled, visibly offended. Draco stared and her features softened again. "You really don't know who I am?"

"How could I? Never seen you before."

"It never stopped anyone before!" The ghost said and Draco feared she might get feisty again. "Moaning Myrtle this, Moaning Myrthle that! First years are scared to come in here, except when they have to open the way for my murderer!"

Draco looked at her in surprise and she realised that he really didn't know who she was. The name, Moaning Myrtle, had rung a bell. Pansy had probably mentioned her during their first year at Hogwarts. Something crept up the back of his mind. Was she the girl they had found dead in one of the bathrooms? He looked at the sinks. Then, he was standing in the second floor's bathroom, where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was.

"Right. Right!" He exclaimed, turning to the ghost again. "The Basilisk killed you!" He regretted his words when he saw the look on her face. "I-I mean," he stuttered.

But Myrtle didn't scream, and she didn't cry. She sighed again. "Yes… Yes, the monster got poor Myrtle, who was crying in the bathroom… I can thank Olive Hornby for that…" she sulked as she floated away. She flew around the column of sinks under Draco's gaze and he saw her head coming out from on side as she kept her body hidden behind the column. "She bullied me every day, you know, everyone did… So I would come in here and cry… I couldn't stop crying. Every day in this school was a penance for being born… I was miserable everyday… But why are you?"

Draco thought she had a flair for the dramatic but as intense as she was, he just wanted to launch himself out of the room. The door wasn't far away, but it wasn't like he could outrun her.

"I can't tell you," he simply said.

"But you think you can use my bathroom to cry away your sorrow?" She asked, flying through the sinks.

"Look!" Draco said, impatient, "I told you, I'll go. I won't bother you again, alright?"

"Why won't you tell me? Are you ashamed?" She asked as Draco walked towards the door.

"It's a private matter."

"You don't think my death is a private matter?"

Draco froze, then turned around. Was she serious?

"You told me about it! I didn't ask anything! What's wrong with you?"

Before he could say anything else, Myrtle sniffed, her eyes filling again. Soon enough, she was crying so loudly that the entire castle could probably hear her.

"Alright, alright, calm down!" Draco said, hurrying to her side. Not that he cared. He should have just seized the opportunity to go, but he was now afraid that people would gather to see who had managed to make Moaning Myrtle cry, even though it didn't seem to require much effort.

He heard the bell ring as he approached her. Now, at least, he had a real excuse to leave. But Myrtle was still crying and the pipes on the walls near the stalls were shaking dangerously. He didn't want to imagine what could happen if Myrtle didn't calm down.

"I'll tell you!" He said, thinking on his feet. It worked like a charm. Myrtle sniffed and tried to swallow back her sobs.

"Really?" She asked, voice quivering. She wiped her ghostly cheeks, her large, shiny eyes on Draco. The boy nodded.

"But only if you stop crying, and if you don't tell anyone…"

Myrtle sniffed again and nodded rapidly. "Promised."

"Alright… Ever heard of Boggarts?" He asked.

Myrtle gasped. "Professor Merrythought never got to show us one," she said. "Or maybe she did… but I might have been dead already…" She sulked again, hanging her head.

"Well, my professor did," Draco continued, brushing aside her theatrics. "I saw something terrible," he continued quickly. Was he actually about to tell her about it?

"It does show you your worst fear," Myrtle said, getting back at him for his comment on her living situation — well, as much as she could actually live.

"It truly does," Draco said, still very serious. Myrtle looked slightly shaken by his tone.

"That's why you cried?" Draco nodded. "What did it shift into?"

Draco looked down. In the end, he just couldn't go further.

"Alright, don't tell me," Myrtle said, surprising Draco. "But promise you'll come visit."

Draco was visibly hesitant. He opened his mouth, trying to think fast of an excuse.

"Just like I promised to keep your secret."

"You know, Myrtle, I don't think you want me around." The ghost frowned. "I'm usually the one doing the bullying…"
He expected her to yell at him again, maybe even chase him out, but the girl didn't. Instead, she giggled. "I've bullied my fair share of students since I died," she said before she placed a finger on her lips as if she was asking him to keep that information to himself. Draco couldn't help but smile, which he didn't think he would be able to do that day. "Come by," Myrtle insisted.

Draco finally walked to the door. He opened it slightly and peered outside.

"Afraid you'll be seen with me?" Myrtle asked near his ear and Draco jumped outside. Luckily, the corridor was deserted.

"It's not you," he quickly said. Maybe it was a little, but it wasn't just her.

"It's you," Myrtle said. She waved him goodbye as the door closed.

.

He decided to skip his last morning class to go to the library. He just couldn't go back yet. Besides, with his parchments soaked with ink, he had too much work to waste his time in History of Magic. He didn't think Binns would notice either way.

He knew it was lunch time when the bell rang again but he stayed seated.

What's the point, I'm not even hungry, he thought before his stomach betrayed his thoughts. He still didn't go.

He was done with his Transfiguration work and he decided to rewrite his History of Magic essay. He grabbed his bag to search for a clean parchment but of course, he didn't have any. He didn't feel like going down to his common room to get a new one. Defeated, he sighed and laid his head on his arms.

"Here, take this," he heard. He looked up to see Hermione Granger a few seats away from him, on the other side of the table. His mind went blank for a moment, ignoring the roll of parchment she was handing him. She didn't say anything either, waiting for him to do something. Draco wondered if she could see that he had cried. Of course, she could. Moaning Myrtle had. His eyes were probably still red, contrasting with his pale face. And clearly, she had also noticed his stained parchments.

"Do you really expect me to take his?" He asked bitterly. Hermione rolled her eyes and dropped the roll next to her.
"Right, I forgot, I touched it so it might be contaminated," she said coolly.

"That's not—" Draco began before he caught himself. He clenched his jaw when he saw her curious look. Stupid. He was just stupid. Why had he tried to correct her? He would be better of letting her believe he was refusing because she was a Muggle-born, instead of letting her know it was just because they disliked each other. And now, she seemed really eager to know what he was going to say. "I don't need pity coming from a Mudblood," he said, hoping that he sounded as mean as the word was. Hermione let out a derisive laugh.

"Pity," she repeated, shaking her head before she started to write on her parchment again. "Trust me, I don't pity you," she said, not quite honest. Maybe she had felt some pity for him that morning, but that wasn't what was making her help him. "Do whatever you want, Malfoy, I just thought it would be… Think whatever you want."

He didn't say anything else. He kept staring at her for a moment as she kept on working. He frowned a little, scanning her features before he finally stood up. He saw that she had stopped writing right as he did, but she wasn't looking at him. He finally approached her and stopped once he was next to her chair. She glanced at the parchment when she saw his hand reach it. He was about to turn around when she looked up.

"You're welcome," she said with a satisfied smile. Again, he stared. It looked like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. He turned and stumbled on the chair next to Hermione's. She tried to keep her laughter in as he walked sheepishly towards his seat again.

He didn't get back to work immediately. Instead, he stared at the roll for a moment before he glanced at Hermione, who was working again.