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“Intriguing, isn’t it.” Lupin’s voice comes from the back of the classroom, but Draco doesn’t turn around - no one does. All eyes are fixed forward on the wobbling wardrobe that undoubtedly contains some sort of minor dark magical creature. Lupin makes his way around the edge of the room to the front of the class as he asks, “Would anyone like to venture a guess as to what is inside?”
One of the Gryffindor’s - what was his name again? - speaks up with a clear, “That’s a boggart, that is.”
“Very good Mr. Thomas,” Professor Lupin commends the boy with a nod. “Now can anyone tell me what a boggart looks like?”
“No one knows,” answers the mudblood, seemingly out of nowhere. Filthy know-it-all.
Draco’s face pinches as Weasel leans over to Potter, rather befuddled, “When’d she get here?”
“Boggarts are shapeshifters,” recites Granger, “They take the shape of whatever the particular person fears the most.” An excited and frankly nauseating glint (who would be excited by something so mundane as a boggart?) flashes through her eye, “That’s what makes them so-”
“So terrifying, yes,” Professor Lupin finishes. He is in full teaching mode standing up there and Draco looks away with a snort from Hermione’s slightly disappointed expression and back to the front of the class where Lupin is continuing with his lesson. “Luckily, a very simple charm exists to repel a boggart. Let’s practice it now.” He pauses a moment before putting out his hand to stop them from reaching into their pockets like Draco had been about to do. “Uh, without wands, please. After me,” he instructs. “Rididkulus.”
“Ridikulus,” Draco repeats with an eye roll. It isn’t that difficult to banish a boggart, and such unnecessary repetition is just that - unnecessary. Draco can’t wait to tell (complain to) his father about this.
“Very good- a little louder. And very clear. Listen: Ridikulus,” Lupin corrects the few idiots in the class unable to follow such simple instructions.
Draco looks over to Vince with a smirk. “This class is ‘ridikulus,’” he drawls. Behind him, Draco can hear Greg chuckling after a few moments as he picks up on the joke.
”Very good,” Lupin affirms again. “Well, so much for the easy part. See, the incantation is not enough. What really finishes a boggart is laughter. You need to force it to assume a shape you find truly amusing.” Draco knew this already, he’d once watched his mother banish a boggart, not truly getting a glimpse of her greatest fear, but still understanding the gist of how the spell worked. “Let me explain,” Lupin continues at the front of the class, heedless of Draco’s bored inattention. “Uh… Neville!” Longbottom looks terrified, but steps forward, much to Draco’s delight. “Would you join me please? Come on, don’t be shy. Come on.” Lupin looks at the brainless boy like he actually expects something of him. “Hello.” Lupin squares his shoulders and faces Longbottom head-on. “Neville. What frightens you most of all?”
Longbottom mumbles something in a shaky voice that admittedly makes Draco lean forward a bit in anticipation. What scares the cowardly Gryffindor the very most?
“Sorry?” Professor Lupin questions, even he not having heard him, despite being the closest.
“Professor Snape, sir,” Longbottom looks down as the class titters their enjoyment at being privy to this information.
Lupin grins with a nod, “He frightens all… and I believe you live with your grandmother?” Draco’s eyes widen as he quickly realizes exactly where this was going.
“Y-yes,” Longbottom stutters anxiously, “but I don’t want that boggart to turn into her, either.”
More chuckles sound from the class as Lupin shakes his head in agreement, “No, it won’t. I want you to picture her clothes - only her clothes - very clearly in your mind.” Draco had been right about the direction this was headed, and now a wolfish grin crosses his face, most likely unnerving Vince, seeing as he usually doesn’t smile so much as smirk.
“She carries a red handbag-” Longbottom begins uncertainly.
“I don’t need to hear. As long as you see it, we’ll see it.” Professor Lupin angles himself towards where the boggart is being contained. “Now when I open that wardrobe, here’s what I want you to do.” Lupin walks over to Longbottom before whispering not-so-quietly into his ear, “Imagine Professor Snape in your grandmother’s clothes.” His voice comes back up to normal volume. “Can you do that?” There comes a thudding from the tall wardrobe that causes Longbottom to flinch a bit. “Yes,” Lupin answers for the Gryffindor, turning to open the large wooden doors behind him. “Wand at the ready! One. Two. Three.” There comes a clicking as Professor Lupin unlocks the wardrobe without uttering so much as a syllable. A mildly impressive feat, Draco will admit. Out of the wardrobe comes Professor Snape, seemingly more looming and ominous than usual perhaps, but otherwise the same with his greasy black hair, permanent scowl, and tall dark robes, neat as ever. “Think, Neville, think,” Lupin reminds the boy, even as Professor Snape advances with clacking footsteps, slow and unnerving.
“Ridikulus!” Longbottom exclaims, and laughter breaks out as the Snape boggart is morphed into hilarious attire consisting of a fur hat and scarf (both with beady eyes that Draco knows are fashionable, but will never truly understand the appeal of), a green dress, some high-heeled boots, and, as promised, an extravagant red handbag.
“Wonderful Neville, wonderful. Incredible, okay, to the back Neville,” he shoes Longbottom, “Everyone form a line!” Draco shoves some people carelessly and Vince follows his lead as they find a place in the crowded line. “Form a line!” Lupin repeats as the line shuffles around to include Draco, Vince, and Greg. “I want everyone to picture the very thing they fear the most, and turn it into something... funny.” Lupin surveys the kids in front of Draco. “Next! Ron!”
After that, there comes a whirlwind of various horrors including, but not limited to, a large arachnid that is given roller skates, a massive cobra that quickly becomes a Jack-in-the-Box, and, when Potty steps up, a dementor, which he manages to turn into an unpleasant looking muggle woman that wears the black rags of an Azkaban prisoner (Potter is the only one who seems to find this prospect amusing, everyone else is simply confused). When Draco nears the front, he realizes he has no real idea what, exactly, his boggart will appear as, and his gut begins to turn violently. His mind runs through things that scare him, and he hopes against all hope that it will not be his father. Oh god, what if it is his father. Draco’s hands go clammy, and he is sure that with all the blood that has just drained from his face he must be looking even more pale than usual, but he steels himself, repeating one of many rules that had been ingrained in his brain at a young age as a sort of mantra. Slytherins never reveal their weaknesses. If he backs out now with some half-baked excuse, surely he’s no better than some flimsy Hufflepuff, ready to turn tail and run at a moment’s notice. It doesn’t matter now though, because Draco’s made it to the front of the line.
He’s made it to the front of the line.
The boggart seems to warp in slow motion from a monster under the bed that is scared of people into… a furious looking Lucius Malfoy. Draco wants to vomit. He should have just left class - pretended his arm hurt, whatever. Anything else at all had to be better than the mocking, bewildered, and worst of all, pitying stares. Bile begins to rise in Draco’s throat as his father starts talking and- no. No no no nononononono this can’t be happening. How can the boggart have any right to say this? “Draco,” his father hisses imperiously, “How can we expect an heir from you when you go around entertaining these- these perverted fantasies?” His breath comes in faster and Draco is sure he is hyperventilating because he is beginning to feel dizzy and all of his appendages feel rather numb. The harsh whispers of his classmates behind him blur into a muted tone. He isn’t perverted, he knows that. Lupin bolts from the other side of the room as if to step in front of the boggart, but he is still meters away, and had only looked up from an intense discussion with Potter once the rest of the class had alerted him with their uncharacteristic quiet. “And besides that, I won’t have any Malfoy in my household who prances around and pronounces himself a fa-” Lupin places his hand on Draco’s shoulder to drag him back, but Draco’s already got his wand out and so he braces his feet against his Professor’s efforts. Might as well take a page out of Longbottom’s book.
“Ridikulus!” he snarls, loud enough to cut his father off. In a split second, Lucius’s fine robes transform into what likely only those born into half-blood or muggleborn households would recognize as muggle pride parade gear. That’s not to say it doesn’t look quite ridiculous without knowing that anyway. The normally refined figure of Lucius Malfoy is now clad in black skinny jeans, Chuck Taylor’s, and a crop top with a rainbow flag emblazoned across the front. Draco’s overactive imagination has also graciously provided his father with some black kohl eyeliner, and a messy top-knot bun which Draco thinks probably contributes to the alarming amount of choking noises coming from behind him. When Professor Lupin tugs him back again via his shoulder, Draco doesn’t resist. As the boggart is faced with Lupin it becomes a beautiful night sky, with a full moon. Before Draco can even begin to think of analyzing that oddly innocuous fear, the moon turns into a white balloon that is directed back into the wardrobe with a single thwip of Lupin’s wand.
When Draco remembers his unfortunate need to breathe, he hastens to draw in a lungful of air that he swiftly regrets as the buzzing in his ears abruptly stops blocking out the murmurs of the rest of the class and his knees suddenly decide that they don’t know how to hold his weight properly, wobbling precariously. His instability must be noticeable because Professor Lupin moves to Draco’s side and fastens his hand around Draco’s upper arm in a firm but gentle manner that helps to steady him. Draco can’t even find it within himself to be embarrassed by what had just happened and was currently happening, but he knows he should be mortified. It’s just kind of hard to care about all of that when the future holds far more petrifying possibilities. Draco’s not ignorant, he is a Slytherin after all. He knows that there are people out there that will accept him just as he is, and also that he’s not alone, there are plenty more like him. He also knows that some people won’t, namely his father. The last Malfoy to be burned from the Malfoy Family Tree had been homosexual, same as him. Draco hadn’t been alive yet when his grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy, had taken a red hot poker and pressed it to the magical tapestry that adorns the walls of the Malfoy family room. Disownment. It was a great uncle if Draco was not mistaken, and he offhandedly wonders if he is still alive.
Lupin’s voice is what finally filters past the unconscious barriers Draco had put up, calling for everyone to leave. “I think that’s quite enough for today. If you’d all like to collect your books at the back of the class- that’s the end of the lesson.” Murmurs of disappointment and whines grow from the crowd that is the half of the class that didn’t get to banish their boggarts. “Sorry! Sorry, all.” Professor Lupin lets go of Draco to usher everyone out of the classroom, shutting the door behind them with a quiet snick. He quickly assesses Draco’s ashen state and the way he is standing immobile, unwilling to outwardly panic, but not being able to stop himself from doing so privately. Then, Lupin reaches into his pocket and pulls out something small and wrapped. “Chocolate?” He proffers the cocoa bar to Draco who reaches out with a shaky hand to take it, unsure what else to do. Lupin just waits as he takes a bite into the remarkably delicious chocolate, unable to help but feel a bit comforted by the sweetness melting in his mouth. “Are you alright?” Draco sits down in the chair that Professor Lupin leads him to, a wave of relief washing over him as his legs are finally granted their wish of collapse.
Draco takes a deep breath, attempting to compose himself. Slytherins never reveal their weaknesses, he reminds himself. He must act unaffected, no matter how he truly feels. He feels an itch at the base of his hairline and reaches up to scratch it. “I-” his voice cracks, but he simply starts again. “I’m just fine.” He pauses for a moment before tacking on a rare, “Thank you.”
Lupin just hums softly in acknowledgement and peers at Draco’s face, studying his features intensely before coming to some unknown conclusion that makes him sigh and lean back in his seat. Draco is taking another bite of chocolate when, without preamble, Lupin tells him, “I was just a few years older than you when I fell in love. Fifteen, naive and unprepared.” Draco’s brows furrow. What does this have to do with him? He thinks he might get up and leave except that his limbs are still doing their best impression of boiled squid tentacles. “A year later, his parents found out about us and he ran away to a friend’s house, the summer of sixth year.” Draco barely keeps a small gasp from escaping his lips, and Professor Lupin just rubs his eyes, joints creaking in a manner that indicates age well past what Lupin truly is. “It was hard for him, I know that, but he survived and, with the help of our friends, eventually healed… I still miss him.”
“W-what happened?” Draco asks softly, afraid to break the quiet atmosphere, and not even sure if his question is appropriate to ask. “To him. The boy,” he clarifies, though he suspects it unnecessary.
Lupin blinks at him and stays silent long enough that Draco’s limbs regain some strength, long enough that Draco thinks he won’t be getting an answer. But then, a stiff and very determinedly not croaky Lupin replies, “People change.” Draco just nods, polishing off the last of his chocolate. “You should get going to your next class,” Professor Lupin reminds him. “Here,” he grabs a quill and scribbles something on a scrap of parchment before handing it over to Draco. Draco Malfoy is excused from being late to class. Remus Lupin. Draco takes the note and stands up, thinking about the boy from Professor Lupin’s schoolboy days and the clear parallels between them. As he reaches the door, Lupin clears his throat. “Draco.” Draco turns back, hand still resting on the knob. “You know that if you have any issues because of your sexuality, in school or otherwise, you can always rely on myself or any of the staff to do our best to help, right?” Draco inclines his head mutely and walks out, skipping his next class and a half to end up handing in his note to a concerned looking McGonagall. When Draco tucks into bed that night, he thinks that he can be like Professor Lupin’s mystery boy. He thinks that, eventually, he can be okay.
Okay, these are some headcanons that I had for what comes next:
-After Lucius disowns Draco (because he’s an asshole) Narcissa decides that she’s done putting up with his shit and divorces him to take custody of Draco as well as 50% of Lucius’s wealth
-Pansy and Blaise stay loyal to Draco, even if many others abandon him
-Draco spends some time every year over the summer at his godfather Snape’s house and also his Aunt Andromeda and Uncle Ted’s house
-Draco makes up with the Golden Trio, apologizing to Hermione who accepts his apology since they were all stupid children when he bullied them. They actually become somewhat of friends due to their mutual love of studying
-Draco never ends up taking the mark and is also never put on the Inquisitorial Squad, even though he puts up with Umbitch
-Sirius doesn’t die because fuck that. (Also, he and Remus get back together during Harry’s fifth year.)
-When Harry starts the DA, Draco has repaired his relationship with Hermione enough that he gets an invitation. He ends up being imperative to many lessons what with all the dark counter-curses he knows
-Draco fights alongside his classmates at the Battle of Hogwarts, as does his mother who was recruited to the Order
-Draco nearly dies when he realizes that Lupin had been talking about Sirius Black when he spoke to him after what he simply refers to as “The Boggart Incident”
-Eighth year Drarry :D