Chapter 6: What We Fear The Most

After Draco left the hospital wing Hermione waited on tenterhooks for him to announce that he'd guessed her secret, but as weeks passed with no mention of her schedule, she began to relax. After the first day of lessons she was much more careful which classes she talked about and with whom; she was also learning, through an occasionally painful process of trial and error, how best to use the time-turner to her advantage. Even apart from overhearing unfortunate conversations, bathroom stalls presented far too many logistical problems to be of much use. Broom cupboards worked in a pinch, assuming Filch was nowhere near, but the very best technique, she soon discovered, was to turn the hour back in a crowded corridor, where the number of people jostling about in twelve different directions prevented anyone from noticing her appearing out of nowhere.

Predictably, Ron seemed to have lost interest in her course load almost at once. They had spent several more Divination lessons with Professor Trelawney tutting softly and shaking her head morosely in Harry's direction, and Parvati and Lavender had taken to speaking to him in soft, dulcet tones as though he were on his deathbed. All of this was driving Hermione mad (and Harry as well, she suspected), but Ron maintained fiercely that the Grim was something to be taken quite seriously, and had begun examining Harry intently for full minutes at a time while the latter was trying to eat or study. Hermione couldn't imagine why Harry didn't tell him to stop; it was obnoxious.

To make matters worse, rumors that Sirius Black was after Harry had led to widespread horror that Black would burst into the castle at any moment, along with most everyone giving Harry a wide berth as though they expected to be hunted simply by association. Sirius Black seemed like a much more real threat to Hermione than the Grim-at least the man existed, for heaven's sake-but bizarrely, Ron was as unconcerned about Black as he was panicked about an imaginary dog. He and Harry continued regular visits to Hagrid after dark, unfazed by the possibility of encounters with dementors or a murderous lunatic. Hermione soon gave up trying to dissuade them; it was exhausting, and with Ron scarcely speaking to her, she didn't fancy getting on Harry's bad side, too.

Much more enjoyable was her time spent with Draco. She'd resolved to put that ridiculous conversation in the bathroom out of her head-after all, she'd never put much stock into what Daphne Greengrass said before, and this seemed a bizarre time to start. Besides, the more she thought about it, the more she felt sick with herself for the way she'd reacted in the first place. Draco was her friend, and she couldn't bear it if she lost his company just because he didn't want to kiss her.

Sometimes, though, she questioned whether Daphne knew the whole story. Draco seldom made any secret of the way he felt about anything, and even when he tried, he wasn't very good at it. The way his eyes went soft when he watched her turn the page of a book, the way his hand lingered a half-second longer than necessary when he tapped her shoulder to get her attention, the way he sneaked glances at her in lessons when he thought she wasn't looking...well, she could've been imagining things, she supposed. Then again, one thing everyone at Hogwarts agreed on was that Hermione Granger wasn't exactly known for her vivid imagination.

Slytherin arrived at their Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson one crisp morning in October to find the classroom deserted and a note on the door instructing them to proceed to the staffroom.

"Ooo, I've always wondered what it's like inside," said Pansy enthusiastically, tearing the note from the door and leading the way down the deserted corridor to their left. Draco and Blaise exchanged a look; they had been to the staffroom before, during a deeply unfortunate incident in their first year. It wasn't too often any longer, but sometimes, if he closed his eyes, Draco could still see the shriveled face and mad eyes of Lord Voldemort from the back of Professor Quirrell's head. Shaking this off, he followed his classmates down the corridor toward the staffroom.

"Good afternoon," Lupin greeted them pleasantly as ever, beckoning them toward the other end of the long, wood-paneled room. An old wardrobe stood against the back wall, and all the furniture had been pushed to the sides of the room. "Today's will be a practical lesson," he went on. "Please place your bags against the walls. You will need only your wands."

A few low murmurs and curious looks made their way through the class as they placed their bags off to the side. Theo caught Draco's eye and they exchanged a slight smirk, each thinking of the last practical Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson they'd experienced. At least, Draco reasoned, thus far Professor Lupin didn't seem the type to release a horde of Cornish Pixies and hide under his desk.

"Now then," said Professor Lupin, but before he could continue, the wardrobe gave a violent jerk, banging against the wall behind it. A few people jumped back in alarm, but Lupin gave a slight smile. "Nothing to worry about," he assured them. "There's a boggart in there."

Feeling that he wouldn't precisely say this was nothing to worry about, Draco took a slight step backward, and he wasn't alone. Pansy was staring in horror at the rattling doorknob, and Theo was looking at Lupin as though he'd asked them to cut off their own thumbs. Blaise, however, looked slightly bored.

"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," Professor Lupin went on. "Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks-I once met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice. So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a boggart?"

"It's a shape-shifter," said Daphne, frowning anxiously as the wardrobe gave another almighty wobble. "It takes the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."

"Precisely. So, the boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Now, who can tell me what a boggart looks like when it is alone?"

"Well, nobody knows, do they?" said Blaise, a touch impatiently.

"That is correct," said Lupin, eyes twilking slightly. "When I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us fears most. That means that, right now, we have an advantage over the boggart. Has anyone spotted it?"

"Because there are so many of us, it won't know what to turn itself into," said Draco quietly.

"I couldn't have put it better myself," said Lupin, nodding. "It's always best to have company when dealing with a boggart. He becomes confused. Which should he become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a boggart make that very mistake-tried to frighten two people at once, and turned itself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening. Now, the charm to repel a boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing. We will practice the charm without wands first. After me, please...Riddikulus!"

"This class is ridiculous," Blaise murmured to Draco as the class repeated the charm together. Draco covered his snort of laughter with his hand, and Daphne lowered her foot firmly onto Blaise's, though she couldn't hide the smile forcing its way onto her face.

"Very good," Professor Lupin was saying. "But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. I want each of you to picture, in your mind's eye, the thing that frightens you most in the world. Visualize it, allow it to fill you up, and then imagine how you might force it to look comical. I shall give you a moment…"

The room went quiet as nearly everyone looked down at their shoes or tugged nervously at their sleeves. Draco bit his lip. He normally avoided thinking about things that frightened him, and didn't care for being told to do the opposite. After a moment an image came unbidden to his mind, and before he could banish it the classroom vanished around him and he couldn't see anything any longer, and then, out of the darkness came a rotting, glistening hand and a long, rattling breath drawn from an unseen mouth. Cold stopped his breath in his chest and his lungs filled with cement, his throat pulsed with the agony of sucking in air which had nowhere to go, and that raw, unbearable ache filled every inch of his body. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced them open, and the classroom swam hazily back into view.

"Everyone ready?" said Professor Lupin.

No, thought Draco frantically. He couldn't think of a way in the world to make a dementor funny. To his extreme annoyance, everyone around him was nodding and rolling up their sleeves, looking quietly determined.

"Would anyone like to volunteer to go first?" asked Lupin, and it became clear at once that the answer was no. "In that case, Miss Parkinson, if you don't mind…"

Pansy, who looked as if she certainly did mind, took a timid step forward.

"Excellent. Now, we're all going to back away and let Miss Parkinson have a clear field. I shall call the next person forward."

The rest of the class retreated against the walls, leaving Pansy alone in front of the wardrobe.

"On the count of three," Professor Lupin went on. "One...two...three!" A jet of sparks shot from the end of Lupin's wand and hit the doorknob, and the wardrobe burst open. Floating in midair before them was a slab of grey stone protruding from wet, rotting earth. There was a murmur as the class realized, at the same time, that it was a gravestone, but a gravestone the likes of which they hadn't seen before. It was smooth and utterly blank. Pansy took a deep breath and raised her wand.

"Riddikulus!" At once, the stone transformed into a balloon which shot around the room as the air flew out its open end.

"Excellent!" cried Lupin, and ushered Theo forward as Pansy retreated. There was a crack like a whip, and then-a tide of muttering shot through the class, and few people laughed uncertainty. Draco stood before them, around a foot taller than the real one. There was a curious luminescence about him; his skin glowed, his eyes glittered much bluer than they really were, and his hair shone like moonlight. There was a very long moment during which the class stood hypnotized, and then Theo raised his wand.

"Riddikulus!" Green paint splashed over Draco's head, as though poured from a bucket. He struggled to wipe it from his face, but he was only succeeding in smearing it around, filling his mouth and eye sockets, and then Blaise stepped forward. Crack! Quite a few people screamed. A Black Widow spider, eight feet tall, reared its front legs at them.

"Riddikulus!" The spider's legs flew off and it burst into an explosion of confetti, and then the boggart saw Draco. He tried to shove Daphne forward, but he was too late. A loud crack, and then a dementor loomed in front of the class, casting that horrible, damp, penetrating cold over the room. Draco could vaguely hear his classmates stumbling back, shoving one another out of the way, fighting to be the furthest from the boggart. He wracked his brains, trying to think of something, anything to make this hideous specter funny, but he was losing the ability to concentrate and the will to stand upright, both leaving him steadily with each breath that escaped him. The woman floated vaguely in front of him again, and he could feel his heart fighting to escape his chest, pulled inexorably into those wretched blue eyes, taking with it every remaining ounce of warmth left in his body...

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Lupin had charged forward and a great silvery shape burst from his wand, charging the boggart and chasing it back away from the class and into the wardrobe. Lupin flicked his wand forcefully, and the wardrobe locked once again with a sharp snap.

There was a thick, heavy silence which seemed to last an eternity. Draco's insides were shaking rather badly, and he had the strong impression he wasn't the only one; everyone looked pale and ashen-faced, and no one seemed to want to look at one another.

"I believe that is enough for today," said Lupin softly. He reached into his briefcase and produced a large bar of chocolate, which he broke into pieces and distributed to the class.

"Everyone will kindly eat this before you go," he went on. "Chocolate is a simple and excellent remedy for the lingering effects of exposure to dementors...even when they aren't really dementors," he added. This seemed dubious, but after a tentative bite, the world did indeed feel more solid under Draco's feet. Another bite, and the warmth returned to his body. All around him, his classmates likewise seemed to be returning to themselves.

"Please go to your common room and rest until it is time for lunch," Lupin went on. "I shall tell Professor Snape I have given my permission. Class dismissed."

Theo shot out the classroom door the moment Lupin pronounced the first syllable of the word dismissed. Blaise raised an eyebrow; Daphne gave him a very hard look and half-jogged after Theo. Shrugging, Pansy hoisted her bag and led the way out into the corridor, moving slowly as though her body were much heavier than normal. Blaise joined her and after a moment Draco followed. Now that the shock of the dementor had ebbed away, something else prickled unpleasantly in the back of his mind. Theo's boggart had turned into...him.

"It was a good lesson, though, wasn't it?" Pansy was saying quietly up ahead.

"It definitely wasn't boring," Blaise agreed.

"He does seem to know what he's doing," said Pansy thoughtfully, and Blaise chuckled.

"Mental, though."

"Yeah."

Draco allowed them to draw further ahead, glancing out the window without really seeing the view. By the afternoon, he knew, everyone would have decided the boggart Draco was highly amusing. He supposed he should try to see it that way himself, but he couldn't shake the hot, sharp ball of-what? Dread? Hurt?-in his stomach. They had been asked to consider their worst fears-not just any fear, but their very worst-and Theo had thought of….him.

He felt as if he were midway through the fourth day of a terrible flu-simultaneously hot and cold, vaguely nauseated, raw and shaking inside. He slipped into a nearby bathroom and, once he was certain it was empty, locked the door with a flick of his wand. Cold water on his face did nothing to steady him, and his reflection in the dirty mirror looked more like the boggart than like himself. He tried to look away, but those strange blue eyes held him fast. There was something sharp and malevolent about them, and he realized with a horrible jolt that they were the eyes of the floating woman. Pure venom swirled around the pupils, and it was this which held him captive, pulling him in, and the face was twisting now, looking less like Draco and more like a hideous monster, and he couldn't hold his ground, he was sinking, and soon he would be swallowed up in these enthralling, poisonous eyes.

BANG! Someone was trying to kick open the door. He held his breath, but his heart was beating so hard against his ribs that he was sure they could hear it in the corridor. The door gave an almighty rattle.

"Fuck off!" he yelled, before he could think better of it. There was a pause, then another sharp rap on the door. And then, miraculously, the sound of retreating footsteps. Once it was quiet, Draco took a deep breath and risked another glance in the mirror. His skin looked normal again, perhaps a shade paler than usual. His eyes held only a hint of blue, rimmed lightly in red as if he'd been crying, though he didn't think he had. The malevolence was gone, and he simply looked exhausted and a bit hollow. He turned at once and fled the bathroom, but once out in the deserted corridor, he realized he had no idea where he was going. Nothing in the world could compel him to go into the common room, where he was sure Blaise would be well over his shock and cooking up a few amusing theories about what the boggart meant. Part of him wanted to find Theo, but this idea squeezed the air out of his lungs and made his heartbeat throb painfully in his throat. What did the boggart mean? Would Theo tell him? Would he like the answer? And, for that matter, was Lupin an idiot? What was he thinking, making them face their worst fears in front of the whole class?

Draco's thoughts were interrupted as the bell rang overhead. He looked at his watch, and gave a start. This bell didn't signal the end of the lesson Lupin had dismissed early, it signaled the end of lunch. He'd been staring into that mirror for quite a lot longer than he thought.

There was already a large crowd waiting outside by the time he reached the Potions classroom, and it was a very odd sight. The Slytherins were much more subdued than usual. Pansy stood between Daphne and Blaise, both of whom looked stiff and a bit haughty, and there was no sign of Theo. The Gryffindors, on the other hand, were clustered around Lavender Brown, who seemed to be crying. Parvati Patil had her arm around her and was explaining something in a very serious tone to anyone who would listen. Draco found a place between the two groups, leaned his back against the wall, and closed his eyes.

"What's the matter, Lavender?" Hermione's voice, higher than usual and a bit anxious.

"She got a letter from home this morning," said Parvati in hushed, reverent tones. "It's her rabbit, Binky. He's been killed by a fox." If Draco had ever heard of a stupider name for a pet rabbit, he couldn't remember when.

"Oh," said Hermione awkwardly. "I'm sorry, Lavender."

"I should have known!" wailed Lavender. "You know what day it is?" There was a pause. Draco opened his eyes, but didn't look at the Gryffindors.

"The sixteenth of October," he said dully. This was a mistake.

"No one asked you, Malfoy," snarled Seamus Finnegan. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Well, you lot seemed to be having trouble, so-"

"The sixteenth of October!" Lavender interrupted, now shaking with fresh sobs. "'That thing you're dreading, it will happen on the sixteenth of October!' Remember? She was right, she was right!" Draco hadn't a clue what Lavender was referring to, but evidently this meant something to the Gryffindor crowd, for they unleashed a torrent of sympathetic muttering. Hermione, however, frowned slightly, bit her lip, and took a deep breath, and now Draco turned his full attention to what, he was sure, would be a very entertaining show.

"You-you were dreading Binky being killed by a fox?" asked Hermione.

"Well, not necessarily by a fox, but I was obviously dreading him dying, wasn't I?"

"Oh," said Hermione, and seeing her expression, it was all Draco could do to keep a straight face. "Was Binky an old rabbit?"

"N-no!" sobbed Lavender. "He was only a b-baby!" Parvati tightened her grip around Lavender's shoulders.

"But then, why would you dread him dying?" asked Hermione, looking genuinely puzzled. Parvati glared at her, but Draco didn't think, in that moment, that he'd ever admired anyone quite so much.

"She's right," he said flatly. "The rabbit didn't even die today, or you wouldn't have got the news today, so the thing you're dreading didn't even happen-"

Lavender wailed loudly, and suddenly every Gryffindor boy in the corridor had drawn themselves up to their full height and was staring daggers at Draco.

"Besides," Hermione said hastily, stepping in front of Draco, "Lavender can't have been dreading it, because it's come as a real shock-"

"Don't mind Hermione, Lavender," said Ron Weasley loudly. "She doesn't think other people's pets matter very much."

"I believe it is customary," said Snape's voice as he appeared abruptly around the corner, "to wait in an orderly fashion for one's lessons to begin. Quietly. Five points from Gryffindor." Immediately, a series of indignant shouts rang out in the corridor.

"Sir, it's not-"

"But Malfoy-"

"SILENCE!" roared Snape, glowering around at them all as he wrenched open the classroom door. Looking as though they were heading to the gallows, the class shuffled inside. Hermione turned to Draco and gave him a half smile.

"Thanks," she said quietly. "Sorry for…" she gestured vaguely around, and he laughed. It was amazing, he thought, how much better he felt after a few minutes in her company.

"What did she mean, 'that thing she's been dreading'?" he asked in an undertone, as they found seats toward the back of the class. Hermione sighed.

"On the first day of Divination, Professor Trelawney told her that thing she was dreading would happen on the sixteenth of October," she whispered as they got out their books and flipped to the appropriate page to continue their study of the Shrinking Solution. She looked up then, and frowned slightly. "Where's Theo?" His stomach gave an unpleasant squirm which he tried valiantly to ignore.

"No idea," he muttered. Hermione's eyes flitted over Pansy, Blaise, and Daphne, who seemed to be having a fierce but silent argument in the other corner of the dungeon.

"We're all having a very fun day, aren't we?" she said wryly. Draco laughed humorlessly.

"Silence," Snape repeated from the front of the classroom. "The next person I hear speak out of turn loses their House fifty points."

And for the rest of the lesson, no one lost any House points.

"Pass the gravy."

It was dinnertime. When Blaise broke the heavy silence over the end of the Slytherin table, Pansy jumped, and Draco didn't blame her. He seemed to have forgotten anything his friends had ever talked about, and even the sounds of their voices over the course of the afternoon.

The gravy was six inches from Pansy's left hand, but she didn't move. Neither did Daphne, who was sitting across from Pansy. It was also, truth be told, well within Draco's reach, but his hands didn't seem to work. Theo had re-appeared that afternoon in Transfiguration class, by which time Blaise had been subdued by the girls and seemed to be on his very best behavior. It was weird. Draco didn't think he liked it.

No one was eating. They were sitting around the dinner table out of habit and lack of any alternative ideas for what to do with their evening.

"Please pass the gravy?" Blaise sounded slightly exasperated. No one moved.

"Did anyone actually write down the homework in Potions?" asked Daphne. Her voice sounded thin, and a bit higher than usual. Draco shook his head.

"I didn't." He couldn't seem to manage more than a hoarse whisper.

"Nor did I," said Pansy quietly. There was a pause.

"For fuck's sake, will one of you pass the gravy to Blaise?" The moment Theo spoke, Daphne snapped to attention and passed the gravy down the table to Blaise.

"Thank you," snapped the latter, though he didn't use the gravy once he had it. After a moment he sighed and stood. "I'm not hungry, and apparently we've got to go and ask Snape for the Potions homework," he said crossly, and swept from the Hall. Pansy sighed, and Daphne bit her lip and glanced anxiously after Blaise. Draco was seized by an insatiable urge to take his bread and throw it at the side of Theo's head. Maybe then he'd look at him. Instead, he stood and followed Blaise's path out of the Great Hall and down to the common room.

The Potions homework, it transpired, was so ludicrously long and complex that, by midnight, Draco was the only one to have finished it. Realizing the time, Blaise gave a sigh and slammed his book shut.

"Well, it's always been obvious I'm never going to pass by Potions O.W.L.," he said wryly, and swept off to bed.

"I'm going to marry rich," said Daphne thoughtfully, and she, too, snapped her book shut and disappeared down the corridor that led to the dormitories. Pansy followed a moment later. Theo didn't look up, and Draco watched him intently for a few moments.

"I can help, if you like," he said quietly. "If marrying rich doesn't appeal to you." Theo looked up after a moment, and to Draco's great relief, the ghost of a smile danced around his eyes.

"I'm already rich," he said softly. Draco laughed, and Theo looked down again, and bit his lip.

"Is it all right if we don't talk about it?" he asked, scarcely above a whisper. Draco's insides quivered slightly and he took a deep breath to steady them, which didn't help much.

"Yeah," he sighed. "It's all right." Theo gave him a real smile then.

"Tell me what the hell I've done wrong here," he said flatly, shoving his Potions homework in front of Draco. Draco took it, grinning as warm relief flooded through him.

"You can't stew dried nettles for a whole month, they'll turn poisonous," he said at once. "And the full moon's got nothing to do with it, so scratch that bit and it'll work." Theo sighed slightly as he made the adjustments.

"I can't wait till O.W.L. year so I can give up Potions," he said dreamily. "I'm rubbish at it."

"You're not," said Draco vaguely. He was, but it was oddly endearing. Theo never needed anyone's help with anything, after all-except Draco's. Maybe that was what he was afraid of.