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 fear. Still, they were all staring, waiting for the Boggart to come out of the darkness. Even Lupin was staring intently at it.
Then, finally, they saw something coming out. It started by a long and dark stick. They all quickly understood when they saw the end of it that it was actually Lucius Malfoy's cane. Draco instantly stepped back. It couldn't be. It was impossible, he wasn't afraid of his father. Ron smirked, muttering to Harry, "Draco "My Father Will Hear About This" Malfoy is afraid of his daddy?" They both tried not to laugh. The Gryffindors were smiling. Pansy looked tensed and Crabbe and Goyle were just staring, like the other Slytherins. Hermione would have glared at Ron if she wasn't so eager to find out what was going to happen.
Lucius' hand was on the snake at the top of his cane and he slowly stepped out of the cupboard, looking behind him. His left hand wasn't visible yet. He got on the floor one foot after the other and they all understood that he was holding someone's hand. Slowly, his wife, Narcissa, stepped out of the cupboard too and Lucius freed her from his grip, slowly moving his hand behind her to rest it against her back.
What were his parents doing there? He wasn't afraid of them. He didn't get it. He slowly lowered his wand. He couldn't point it at either of his parents, never. He couldn't stop looking at them as they slowly walked towards him, looking fearful of what it might mean. His father looked really serious and Draco could make the expression in his eyes. He had seen it before, it was a weird mix between anger and disgust. And he could read his mother's expression too, unfortunately, he could see that she was silently crying. Draco felt sick. He closed his eyes during what seemed to be a minute, when it actually took him two seconds. His parents were still there when he opened them.
"Draco, your wand," he heard a voice say. It seemed to be coming from really far away, so he didn't recognize Lupin. His head was spinning as he slowly looked down at his mother's body. He could hear it. It seemed to come from far away too but he could hear it falling on the floor. He could see the thick liquid dripping from his mother's coat. He knew what that meant. He knew what his worst fear was. He should have known since he had seen his father's cane, he should have known when he had seen the way he was looking at him. He had so many nightmares about this, he should have known before seeing the tears on his mother's cheeks.
But seeing them in real life, in front of him, he couldn't even tell the difference with a Boggart. They were looking so much like his real parents. He couldn't even raise his wand again. No one was laughing anymore, even Ron had stopped when he had seen Narcissa slowly undoing the button of her coat, letting them discover the injury soaking her dress with blood.
Lucius finally removed his hand from her back, slowly moving towards Draco who was still staring at his mother.
"Draco," he heard again but he didn't pay attention to that, it seemed even more distant than before. Instead, he listened to his father.
"I should have let you die," he said quietly. Draco couldn't tell if he had really talked, though. If it wasn't for the place they were in, it was very similar to some of his dreams, maybe he was imagining it? Maybe he was imagining his father raising his cane. Maybe he would wake up in his bed and start his day, anxious for his Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson? He felt his eyes stinging but he didn't move, he hold his head up high, facing his father. He wasn't afraid of him enough for that. That's not what it was all about, it never had been. He was afraid of himself. Of the way he could hurt his parents. He felt a void in his body, he felt like he was facing them alone, his father's words echoing in his head.
For a split second, he wondered if the others had heard his father. Could a Boggart produce this kind of sounds? He found it almost funny, but not really. Because he knew deep down that it was a Boggart and that the room was full of people. He knew that it was all fake, but he wasn't doing anything to stop it. He was too shocked, like the whole classroom.
They were all staring, some with their mouths open, waiting for what would happen next, Hermione, who had a hand on her mouth, and Lupin were the only ones understanding what was going on.
Draco felt something on his shoulder, as he was waiting for the cane to hit him right across the face, and he was suddenly moving backwards. He blinked and saw the Boggart suddenly starting to change. His parents weren't there anymore, neither was the blood on the floor, and oddly enough, the thought of him wanting to be home during the holidays came back in his mind. It wasn't really the time, it was stupid, he didn't know why he was thinking about it.
After another really long moment for Draco, a moon was facing him and the person in front of him.
"Ridikulus," said Lupin, pointing his wand towards the Boggart. Draco didn't look at it anymore as it was destroyed; his eyes were on the back of Lupin's head.
And then, there was a long silence. Lupin had turned to face Draco, putting a hand on his shoulder once again as he met his eyes. Draco didn't move, he kept looking at Lupin, without really looking at him. Very slowly, he looked down. He wouldn't let his chin shake, he wouldn't give him that pleasure.
The bell rang but no one moved, Draco barely heard it. He didn't hear Lupin when he asked for the second time if he was ok.
"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" He almost whispered. Lupin frowned, trying to meet his eyes again. He wasn't sure to understand Draco.
"What? Of course not," he said, trying to speak softly. He was as surprised as everyone, he had been certain it would turn into a moon, or something like that, never into this. Yes, he had wanted Draco to participate, but he hadn't planned anything. When he found the Boggart, he didn't think of Draco, he just thought it would be another good lesson. Then, when they had started it, he had really wanted for Draco to take part in it, but it was to help him. Facing his fear would help him. He never expected the lesson to end this way.
Lupin looked up, noticing that no one had left. He cleared his throat, putting his other hand on Draco's other shoulder.
"You can go," he said at the class, which was still staring at them. They didn't move at first. "Go on," Lupin said quickly. They finally reacted and moved quietly to leave the room. Hermione was the last one to move, still totally shocked. She still had a hand on her mouth and she met Lupin's eyes before Harry patted her shoulder.
"Come on," he whispered to her, and they finally left the classroom. Draco barely moved his head when he heard people moving behind him, he didn't want to look at anyone. How would he be able to face anyone again? He was so ashamed, he should have reacted and use the spell. Why didn't he do it? He was such an idiot.
"Draco, listen to me," Lupin said. Draco didn't want to listen, he didn't want to look at his teacher, he just wanted to be alone. He put his hands on Lupin's forearms to push his hands away from his shoulders and he stepped back.
"What for?" He asked more aggressively than even he thought he would be.
"Draco-"
"Why don't you just leave me alone?" He coldly asked before he turned around to go take his bag, which was still on the floor. He stormed out of the classroom, catching Harry, Ron and Hermione's attention. They thought Draco would have a long talk with their professor, they weren't really far in the hallway; they had just left the classroom and he was already out. The trio had turned to look at him and he walked past them, bumping hard against Ron's shoulder. He didn't look at anyone, he made his way between the students, elbowing them, and Harry saw that even Pansy wasn't following him this time, she just had a weird expression on her face.
Ron was touching his shoulder, making a face. "What was that all about anyway?" He asked, looking at Harry. This one shrugged, obviously not knowing. They heard a loud and impatient "tuh" coming from Hermione, who wasn't even really back to her senses either. Still, she was capable of answering them.
"Isn't it obvious?" She asked them. It was, she couldn't understand how they were not seeing it. But she was not about to tell anything about Draco nor Lupin. She looked at the other students, Malfoy was long gone now.
.
Draco didn't know how he had managed to make his way to a bathroom that fast. All he knew was that after he had left the classroom, he had found himself in one of them. He had closed the door behind him and thrown his bag across the room out of anger. It had fallen on the floor, rolls of parchments either coming out of it, either being soaked with the bottle of ink broken on the floor. He couldn't get his parents out of his head. He leaned against the door and let the back of his head hitting it. It didn't hurt him, or at least he didn't feel it. What he was feeling were the tears rolling down his cheeks. He couldn't stop thinking about it, about the night everything had changed, about his dreams. He let himself slide against the door and ended up sitting on the floor, crying without being able to help it.
It had always surprised him how clear the memories of the attack were, even if it had happened years ago, it seemed like it had happened the day before. Even if he had fainted, even if he hadn't been paying attention to everything, it was like living it all over again every time he was thinking about it.
.
He could remember the room he had been in when it happened. He was sitting on the sofa and it wasn't really comfortable. There was a table near it, there were shelves and cupboards, but what had attracted him the most was a really big bay window on his left. At some point, he even stood up to look through it. He could remember clearly what he was doing. He could remember the song he had been practicing on his legs. He could remember hearing some noise and looking around him as he stopped moving his fingers. He had stayed silent for a few seconds and when he had heard another noise, he had glanced at the door on his right. Behind it were his father and the man he was meeting. He had waited during a few seconds and then he had stood up, approaching it quietly. He hadn't heard anything behind it, he had even tried to look through the lock but it was too dark inside. Then, he had heard another noise and he had turned his head to look at the door they all walked through to come in this room.
Maybe he had started to have a bad feeling because he was young at the time and that he was scared too easily. So, he had told himself that he was stupid, and he had just walked in the room, looking at the books on the shelves, before he had stopped in front of the window, still quiet like his father had asked.
He could remember how the room he was in was lighted by candles. He could remember how the outside was lighted by the moonlight.
And then, he went to sit again.
He could remember the moment the door was destroyed, when he first saw it. The thought that it was weird that it was staring at him without moving further more even crossed his mind while panic rose in him. And he moved backwards on the couch. He moved backwards and ended up standing up on it. He could already feel the tears on his cheeks and his body was shaking but he wasn't able to make any sound. Instead, he kept moving backwards. He even fell of the couch and felt a great pain in his wrist. But he didn't moan, there was something blocking anything that wanted to come out of his throat, and blocking the air that wanted to come in.
He couldn't see the beast anymore, because it was hidden behind the couch. And Draco kept moving backwards, pushing himself with his feet and his hands, not caring about the pain in his wrist. And then, it suddenly came from above the couch. It had jump over it and Draco couldn't even feel the pain in his arm anymore, because his side was much more injured. And this time, he could scream. He couldn't stop screaming, actually, and then he wasn't touching the ground, and his body was moving from right to left and he hit something really hard.
The wall, he had flown against the wall. He had hit his head, but he didn't feel it, nor did he feel the thin blood trickle coming from his eyebrow arch. His side was burning. It was burning and bleeding and he thought for a moment that he was on fire. He was still screaming, crying, bleeding. It was keeping him awake, even if his vision was blurred. He didn't even hear his father using strong spells to blast the werewolf away. What he heard, though, was the giant window breaking when the creature went through the glass. And all he could think about were his parents. His mother wasn't even there when the thought that he was probably about to die hit him. He was so cold when he had been so hot thirty seconds before. But his father was there. Maybe he could ask him to help him. Maybe his father would find a solution. And he heard himself articulate "dad".
Draco could remember trying desperately to tell his father that he wanted to be home with him and his mother but he never knew if he ever got the words out. It felt as though the agony was keeping him from moving, then from opening his eyes again. He didn't faint directly, he was just too tired to be able to lift his eyelids.
He then had had the impression that he was falling. Or was he floating? He couldn't feel the wooden floor anymore. Actually, Draco had just never realized that his father was holding him in his arms to leave this hell. He had thought that it was over, that he wasn't even going to suffer anymore. It was like his side was sleeping, he wasn't feeling his blood leaving his body anymore, but he wasn't feeling a lot of air getting in either. So, he had been certain that he was dying and he had just let the tiredness carry him.
.
When he had been able to open his eyes again, finally, he noticed that he wasn't in a coffin, at last. He actually doubted that a coffin would be this comfortable. But he wasn't in the room he had been attacked in either. He had hardly swallowed his spit, which had made him stop breathing for two seconds. He had exhaled a short amount of air directly after that, taking some more just after. It was burning his lungs and his throat.
He was staring at a ceiling. He blinked and slowly moved his fingers. He was definitely in a bed. He had wondered if it had all been a dream and he slowly turned his head. It hurt so bad, and not only because he had the worst headache he ever had in nine years on Earth but because his entire body was aching as though he had been beaten up very violently.
The door of the room was slightly open, letting a really small amount of light in the room. Draco had recognized his own bedroom and he had let his eyes scan it for a few seconds before he noticed her. His mother was next to him, on a chair that shouldn't be in the middle of the way to his bed like it was. She was asleep, her head resting on her shoulder. He couldn't really make her features, he could just hear her steady breathing.
His father wasn't there. Draco had opened his mouth to wake his mother up, he really wanted her to talk to him, to be closer. But his throat was so dry that he only ended up coughing when his voice broke in the beginning of his sentence. It woke his mother up, at least. She had been startled but didn't waste any time, getting to her feet and sitting on the bed. Clearly, she didn't fall deliberately asleep but was waiting anxiously for her son to show a sign that he was alright. She took a glass of water that was on the bedside table and Draco felt her free hand on the back of his neck, then on the back of his head as she helped him to drink. He slowly raised his hands, weakly gripping the glass, one of his hands on his mother's wrist. The water made him feel a bit better already. It was cold and it was a nice feeling after he had felt his body burning the way it did. She only removed the glass from his lips when he pushed it away a little and as soon as his mother had put the glass on the bedside table again, she put her hands on Draco's cheeks, looking at him with her eyes filled with tears. Her hands were cold and he wondered if she wasn't freezing. Maybe she was sick? He thought that she could come in the bed with him, they could rest together and she would feel better, not realizing that she wasn't cold at all. He just had a lot of fever. He didn't say anything about his thoughts, he just stared at his mother, waiting to see what would happen.
"My son..." His mother had kept repeating, her hands caressing his cheeks, her fingers running through his hair. "My son..."
"Mother..." Draco had finally muttered in a low voice. He heard a sob coming from his mother, which made him feel bad, and they both got closer. He needed to be in her arms and she wanted him in hers.
She held him close against her body during a really long time during which Draco became drowsy again. He had been able to feel her heart beating fast and he had closed his eyes, enjoying his mother's whispers and caresses that lead him into a light sleep. When he opened his eyes again, he was still in her arms. She hadn't moved nor stopped her caresses and he never noticed he had been asleep.
"Where's Father?" He had finally whispered when he felt a weird sensation on one side of his body. He closed his eyes again. He had his mother's fingers running through his hair, her other arm tight around him and he was in a really comfortable position, simply feeling better.
"He will be back... He is taking care of everything..." He heard his mother say. She was speaking with a low voice, softly, and Draco had been sure she had her eyes closed too. His father was taking care of everything, so it would be alright. He felt like his ears were ringing and he suddenly opened his eyes, staring at the wall in front of the bed. In his head, he had seen its face. He couldn't stand it.
"Mother..." He whispered. She didn't say anything but he knew that she was listening to him. "I don't want to die..." He finally said. His mother had a faint smile on her face.
"You are safe now, you don't have to worry anymore," she simply said.
"But Mother," Draco said, his voice trembling. He didn't want to keep talking because he didn't want his mother to stop holding him if he started crying. "I don't want to live like that either..." He muttered. She didn't let go of him, she just stopped moving her fingers on his head. She was a bit more tense and she had opened her eyes. Draco felt his chin shaking and his grip on his mother's dress became a bit tighter. She couldn't let go of him, he didn't want her to.
"Draco," his mother began to say before she felt Draco moving against her. When she looked down, she found him staring at her.
"Father is taking care of everything," he said, "surely, he will find a solution, won't he?"
Taken aback, Narcissa hadn't say anything, she kept staring at his grey eyes shining because of the tears he was holding back.
"He can do anything, I mean, it's Father, he will help me, won't he?" Draco asked again. Then, he felt his mother's hands on his cheeks again and he closed his eyes when he felt her lips against his forehead. It made him feel good for about a second, because as soon as he had closed his eyes again, the image of the werewolf had appeared in his head.
.
Draco suddenly opened his eyes, facing the empty bathroom he had locked himself in. He was panting and he used his sleeves to dry his cheeks. He took a long breath and stood up. He couldn't let his mind make him live this all over again. He couldn't let his mind show him the nightmares he had had all those years already, were he was mercilessly attacking his parents in his other form before waking up in tears, sweating and panting. He had been running towards their room so many times that they weren't surprise anymore. His father wasn't bothering a lot about that now that they were used to it, he was just telling him that they were alright before laying again on his mattress. His mother, however, was usually walking him to his bedroom to talk with him a little before she could set off to bed again. He couldn't let those images of the werewolf come into his mind again. He had to stop thinking about those eyes, those fangs, his howls. He pushed his hands against his eyes when it came back in his mind, gritting his teeth.
He just wanted it to stop. It was too much pressure for a thirteen year old. He wasn't supposed to feel all of this, was he? And he wasn't supposed to repress every single of those very same stupid feelings. Or was he? No, definitely not. He ran his fingers through his hair as he took really deep breaths, trying to calm down. He couldn't panic now. Everything was going so fine before Lupin arrived in the school. He had to walk in and change everything, even if it wasn't his intentions.
The fact was that even if Lupin wanted to help Draco, he simply was a constant reminder of his condition, of their condition, and it was driving Draco mad. Before, it was easier to avoid thinking about it when the full moon was gone. But he had to cross path with Lupin every day and it was too much. He had no way of stopping those thoughts to come back when he was seeing him in the Great Hall. Every time Draco was walking in to go eat, Lupin was there, sitting next to Snape, and Draco had flashes of the nights spent in the Shrieking Shack with his teacher coming back to him. That wasn't right. That wasn't fair. And now, he had to be careful not to show his arm. It was fine as long as he had bandages but he couldn't keep acting like it was still hurting for a long time. He had already stopped using the splint, what if someone saw his arm after that? In the changing room before his Quidditch team would use the pitch to train, for example? It was already really challenging to change with this big ass scar on his side, but if he had to hide that everyday, now, it would be even more difficult. He wasn't even allowed to roll up his sleeves anymore.
After taking another deep breath, Draco leaned against the wall, staring at his bag that was still on the floor. Maybe he could get a revenge. Maybe there was still time to have him sack. He just had to send an owl to his father and next thing Lupin would know, he would be out of the castle.
But would Draco be satisfied? It wasn't even making him smile, right now. All of this because of Umbridge. Lupin would be out of his way but he wouldn't be able to find another job. If it had been anyone else, Draco wouldn't have cared, but the situation was different. Because it could have easily been him, they just had different upbringings. And because he could understand what it was like, he knew that he wouldn't get any satisfaction with this kind of actions. It was easy to make fun of Potter, he was a loser getting attention for something he certainly didn't do on purpose. Draco had survived too, he had a scar too, what was the difference? It was stupid, really. But did Lupin deserve what had happened to him? Probably not, he had been five. And by the look of it, he was miserable.
Funny. Draco had been able to shut down compassion since... He had always been able to sort out his emotions, shove them in a corner of his mind and let them rot there. And because of one man, it was all coming back to him.
He needed to find a way to escape that. He needed to find a way to stop thinking about it or he would feel like hell for the rest of his schooling. He slowly walked in the room, glancing at the mirror in front of him. God, he was looking as pathetic as Lupin, at that moment. Not only because he was in the weak state he was always in before and after the cycles but also because his eyes were red, his hair were untidy... He basically looked like a mess. A bit of magic on his hair would do the trick but it was still visible that he had cried. He crouched next to his stuff.
"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 took the stained parchments and put them back in his bag. He would have to work on them again. Well, at least, he would be in the library, no one would bother him there. He didn't feel like going to his common room or wander in the hallways, hoping no one would look at him. They all probably already knew what had happened.
He stood up, his bag in his hand, and he walked towards the door. Putting his hand on the doorknob, he took a deep breath. It wasn't the first time he was cracking because of the pressure but it had never been that bad, he had never been so panicky. But as usual, he just needed to breathe and act like nothing was going on. He would just stare at his feet, his red eyes were too visible on his pale face.
At least, he was lucky, no one was in the corridor when he got out of the bathroom. They had already enough to discuss with the Boggart, they didn't need to add a depressed looking Malfoy getting out of a bathroom after what had happened in the classroom. At least, Draco didn't need that.
He walked carefully in the hallway, surprised that no one was there. And then, it hit him. They were all in class. He shook his head as he went down the stairs. He would catch up later, he definitely didn't want to have to go in a class that late. He liked attention, but not that day. So, he walked towards the library, ready to write his homeworks all over again. And possibly, he would think about what he could do to escape the pressure, to feel a bit better sometimes. He needed to find an occupation, it was simple.
.
He heard the bell ring some time after he had started to work. It was lunch time but he wasn't going to join the others in the Great Hall.
"I'm not even hungry, what's the point..." He thought before he heard his stomach betraying his thoughts. "Shut up, you," he muttered, staring at his parchment. He had sat at his usual table, got his homework out of his bag and took the only parchment that wasn't dirty out of his bag. And he kept working without looking at the really rare students walking in. He was focusing on his work, thinking that maybe it was the solution. Maybe he just needed to focus on his school work. He needed to keep his grades up, it might help him get his mind out of everything else. Well, it would if he had enough parchments to copy the rest of his homeworks. He looked in his back, getting out the ones that were dirty and he sighed. Of course, he hadn't any. But he didn't want to go back to his dormitory to take some, lunchtime or not.
"Here, take this," he heard. He looked up to see Hermione Granger sitting on a seat at the same table as him. His mind went blank for a few seconds as he stared at her, not taking the roll of parchment she was handing him. She didn't say anything else, she stared at him too, apparently waiting. He wondered if she had noticed that he had cried. After a moment, he narrowed his eyes.
Of course, she had noticed. She had also noticed the stained parchments and couldn't stand that he was having such an horrible day, Malfoy or not.
"Do you really expect me to take this?" He asked bitterly. Hermione rolled her eyes and put the roll next to her, where it probably was before she had tried to give it to him.
"Right, I forgot, I touched it so it might be contaminated," she said, not amused.
"It's not-" Draco began to say straight away before he stopped himself. He gritted his teeth as she looked at him. Stupid. He was simply stupid. Why did he open his mouth to correct her? He didn't want to refuse because she was a Mudblood, not this time. It wasn't the first thing that had crossed his mind anyway. But he should have rolled with it, she wouldn't have talked to him again. But now, she was looking at him with those stupid eyes of hers and she seemed really eager to know what he was going to say. He didn't plan on continuing his sentence, but she was staring and it was seriously annoying him. "I don't need pity coming from a Mudblood," he finally said coldly even though the last part of his sentence had barely been audible. Hermione let out a derisive laugh.
"Pity," she repeated, shaking her head before starting 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-" she said before she shook her head again. "Think whatever you want."
He didn't say anything. He kept staring at her for a few seconds as she was working. He frowned a little, scanning her features for a while before he finally stood up. He saw that she had stopped writing when he did but she wasn't looking at him. He finally walked towards her and stopped once next to her chair. She glanced at the parchment when she saw his hand reaching it. He was about to turn around when she looked up.
"You're welcome," she said with a satisfied smile. Again, he stared at her, meeting her eyes for a second. It seemed like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, he turned and stumbled on the chair that was behind him. Hermione tried not to laugh as he walked sheepishly towards his seat again, sitting.
He didn't get back to work immediately, though. Instead, he stared at the roll for a few seconds before he glanced at Hermione, who was working again.