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1993
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Professor Lupin wasn’t there when Draco, Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy entered the classroom for their first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. To say that any one of them was excited was a bit of an understatement.
As the final few Gryffindor and Slytherin students entered the classroom, they all sat down, taking out their books, quills, and rolls of parchment. They were talking amongst each other when the professor himself finally entered the classroom. The professor smiled vaguely as he placed down his tatty old briefcase on the teacher’s desk. Draco grimaced at the sight of the disgusting old case. Could his professor not afford a nice looking briefcase or was Dumbledore really that bad at paying his teachers?
Professor Lupin looked as shabby as ever, Draco thought, disgust rolling over his face as the lanky man turned to address the classroom.
“Good afternoon class, today’s lesson is a practical one so if you all kindly move your desks carefully to the edges of the room,” he announced to the third-year students. “Quickly and as swiftly as possible, this lesson is quite an exciting one!” Professor Lupin excitedly bounded, as much as a frail man could, across the classroom, performing a spot of magic to suddenly have a wardrobe appear near his desk.
As the Gryffindors quickly got to work on clearing the space in the room, the Slytherins just watched. Draco certainly wasn’t going to be doing any hard work, especially with his arm broken and still in a sling. He couldn’t possibly risk doing any of the heavy liftings and moving of desks. But that didn’t explain why the rest of the Slytherins chose not to help. Instead, they took to following whatever Malfoy does. They acted as though they were a batch of lost puppies. Watching the Gryffindors, Draco hovered his eyes over the crowd of the red wearing lions. He spotted the raven hair of scarhead, closely followed by the ginger prick that always scouted around after him like some glorified puppy. But yet, Draco couldn’t seem to find the curly-haired muggleborn. The three musketeers seemed to be missing a member of the pack. The only one that had some brains.
Draco felt himself suddenly become giddy with excitement. Was the Mudblood about to get into academic trouble for the first time in her life? She had never been late before and Draco was excited to be able to boast that he had witnessed the colour drain out of her as she got her first week-long worth of detentions for being late to a very important class.
“Now, then,” Professor Lupin addressed the class, beckoning them forward, the majority of the Gryffindors only just noticing the wardrobe at the front of the room. It just seemed like a regular wardrobe, like one that the teachers kept their spare robes in but Draco supposed that there was something dark to it. As Professor Lupin moved around the wardrobe, walking to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, rattling against the protective bubble that was still around it.
A couple of the Gryffindors and wimp Slytherins jumped and slowly crept back away from the wardrobe. Something dark was within there and Draco was intrigued. His magic was intriguing. Professor Lupin obviously sensed the fear that some of the students felt and stepped forward.
“Nothing to worry about,” he said calmly, sensing the panic and fear that was radiating through the bodies of some of the third years. “There’s a Boggart in there.” Professor Lupin announced as though that meant anything to the students.
The dumbfounded look that Crabbe and Goyle gave each other almost made Draco laugh, how had he been stuck with two of the dumbest people as his “friends”?
Most of the students seemed to feel that this was something to worry about. I mean what the fuck is a Boggart? Draco thought as he spotted Longbottom giving Professor Lupin a look of pure terror, although, when wasn’t he giving a look of pure terror? The Irish twat standing next to Longbottom, Seamus Finnigan, also was now eyeing the rattling door knob apprehensively.
“Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces,” Professor Lupin informed the class, finally teaching them something. “Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks— I have met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and so I had asked the headmaster if they would leave it to me to give my third years some practice,” he continued informing them.
Draco spotted Longbottom shivering with anxiety as he remained near the front of the classroom. Was he the sacrifice for the Boggart or something? Draco thought, smiling at the thought but realised quite quickly that it was quite a dark thought to have and he didn’t want to suddenly turn into his father.
“So, now, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a Boggart?” Professor Lupin asked, turning towards his class, waiting for the first hand to enter the air.
Draco watched as no one knew the answer until her hand flew into the air. When the fuck had she sneaked into the classroom?
“It’s a shape-shifter,” Hermione answered. “It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most.” Hermione continued, smiling as she recalled the information that she had probably known since her first year.
“Couldn’t have put it better myself, Miss Granger. Ten points to Gryffindor,” Professor Lupin rewarded, and Hermione glowed with praise.
Where the fuck had Granger come from? One second she wasn’t in the classroom, the next she was standing next to Weasel as if she had been there the entire time. Draco tried not to show the shock that was flitting through him on his face as he stared at her, then back towards the front of the class, where Lupin continued explaining.
“So, this Boggart, sitting in the darkness within, has not yet assumed a form. It does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a Boggart truly looks like when he is alone. But when I let them out, they will immediately become whatever each of us most fears. This means,” Professor Lupin spoke, choosing to ignore all of Neville’s small sputters of terror, “that we have a huge advantage over the Boggart before we begin. Why is that?” He asked the classroom, hoving his eyes over the heads of his students, deciding on who to pick before calling on scarhead.
“Er—” Harry thought out loud, before clearing his throat. Draco tried so hard not to roll his eyes at the boy or the girl who stood next to him who looked like she was about to burst. The muggleborn clearly knew the answer but Lupin waited for Potter to answer. “Because there are so many of us, it wouldn’t know what shape it should be?” Potter finally answered, and looked worried that he’d answered wrongly.
“Precisely,” Professor Lupin nodded, and Draco watched as she put her hand down and seemed to be looking a little disappointed. It made him laugh silently to himself. “It’s always best to have company when you are dealing with a Boggart. They become easily confused. Which should they become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a Boggart make that very mistake— it tried to frighten two people at once and turned itself into half of a slug. Not even remotely frightening,” Professor Lupin continued telling.
Draco was tempted to audibly react to the life story, we don’t care for fuck sake Professor, just get on with the lesson. Draco thought to himself as he could hear Lupin continuing in the background.
“The charm that repels a Boggart is fairly simple, yet it requires a force of mind,” Lupin informed his students. “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.”
He moved around the wardrobe and stood in front of the piece of furniture. Professor Lupin nodded towards the Third Years.
“We will practise the charm without our wands first. After me, please… Riddikulus! ” He spoke clearly so everyone heard the spell.
“Riddikulus!” The class said together.
“This class is ridiculous,” Draco muttered, rolling his eyes. Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy both stuttered with laughter as they looked back towards Professor Lupin.
“Good,” he said. “Very good. But, unfortunately, that was the easy part. I’m afraid you cannot just say the word. The word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in, Neville.” The wardrobe shook again, though Draco supposed that Neville was shaking more.
He walked forward, almost as though he was heading for the gallows. Draco and his gang of friends couldn’t help but laugh at the horror written over his face. Crabbe muttered something to Goyle but Draco couldn’t listen. The blood pounding in his ears was getting too much as reality hit him.
Everyone is going to see his greatest fear.
Not just his best friends but scarhead and the weasel and her. Mudblood. She was going to see his fear and think that he was practically pathetic.
“Right, Neville,” said Professor Lupin. “First things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?”
Neville’s lip’s moved but no noise came out.
“I didn’t catch that, Neville, sorry,” Professor Lupin turned to him, cheerfully. Neville looked around rather wildly, as though he was begging for someone to help him but then he turned to Professor Lupin and whispered everything to him. Not wanting to admit things to the class, even though the class would soon find out his biggest fear.
As Neville and Professor Lupin talked with each other, he was clearly instructing Neville on what he had to do. Draco was intrigued. What was this pudgy kid’s worst nightmare going to be? Draco thought as he continued hearing Crabbe and Goyle comment on things.
“Right then,” said Professor Lupin. “Can you picture those clothes very clearly, Neville? Can you visualise them in your mind?” Professor Lupin instructed him.
“Yes,” Neville said with uncertainty as he nodded. Draco wondered what was coming next before Professor Lupin stepped forward and talked to the class and Neville.
“When the Boggart bursts out of this wardrobe, Neville, and sees you, it will assume the form of your worst fear,” Lupin said. “And you will raise your wand - like thus,” Lupin raised his wand and showed the class the wand movement. “Remember to speak very clearly and concentrate hard on your grandmother’s clothes.” Professor Lupin further instructed the class.
The classroom went dead silent.
Leaving Draco to his thoughts. What scared him most in the world?
His first thought was possibly the dark one that they called Lord Voldemort. The one that had turned his father into who he was today.
The second thought turned to his Aunt Bella, the insane woman who was going to always be at Voldemort’s right-hand side.
Then the final thoughts turned to his father. The tall man that crowded his darkest nightmares. The darkest man that latched himself onto everything in their family Manor.
“Everyone ready?” Professor Lupin broke the thoughts of Draco’s inner turmoil and he tried not to panic.
He felt a lurch of fear. He really wasn’t ready for this. How could you make your father less frightening? Everyone else was nodding and rolling up their sleeves, ready for the practical lesson.
“Neville, we are going to back away now,” Professor Lupin told the student. “Let you have a clear field, all right? I will call the next person forward, straight after. Everyone step back now.” Professor Lupin practically shouted.
All the students and Professor Lupin retreated, backing themselves against the walls, leaving Neville alone beside the wardrobe. Draco looked and laughed at the sight of Longbottom looking pale and frightened, but he had pushed up the sleeves of his robes and was holding his wand ready.
“On the count of three, Neville,” said Professor Lupin, who was pointing his wand at the handle of the wardrobe. “One — two — three — now, Neville, now!” A jet of sparks shot from the end of Professor Lupin’s wand and hit the doorknob.
The wardrobe burst open. Hook-nosed and menacing, Professor Snape stepped out, his eyes flashing at Neville. Draco thought that the eyes flashed with death. Neville backed away, his wand up, mouthing wordlessly as the panic overtook him. Snape was bearing down upon the boy, reaching inside of his own robes.
“R — r — riddikulus!” Neville squeaked.
There was a noise like a whip crack. Boggart Snape stumbled; he was wearing a long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a mouth-eaten vulture, and he was swinging a huge crimson red handbag.
There was a roar of laughter; the Boggart paused, all confused.
Professor Lupin shouted, “Parvati! Forward!”
Parvati walked forward, her face set. Boggart Snape rounded on her. There was another crack, and where the Boggart Snape had been standing was now a bloodstained, bandaged mummy; its sightless face was turned towards Parvati and it began to walk towards her very slowly, dragging its feet, its stiff arms rising—
“Riddikulus!” Parvati cried out.
A bandage unravelled at the mummy’s feet; it became entangled, fell face forward and its head completely rolled off as the class around them erupted into laughter again. Parvati moved back to join the other students.
“Hermione! Forward!” Professor Lupin shouted over the laughter.
The laughter died down as Hermione stepped forward. The Boggart mummy slowly looked up at the curly-haired witch and slowly changed into Professor McGonagall, holding onto a clipboard.
Hermione shakingly raised her wand as the silence got too much until Boggart Professor McGonagall moved closely towards, looking down into the face of the small witch.
“Miss Granger, the spell—?” Professor Lupin tried to speak before he was rudely interrupted by Boggart Professor McGonagall.
“Fail. You have failed, Miss Granger.” The Boggart of Professor McGonagall screamed into the face of the young girl. “Failure.” She continued screaming as Hermione clutched tighter onto her wand.
“Riddikulus!” Hermione’s voice broke as she fired the spell at the Boggart. Professor McGonagall disappeared as she was turned into her cat form and was wearing a massive pink feather bower and matching colour hat.
The class laughed as Hermione moved away from the Boggart. Draco spotted that she was slightly shaking from the practical. Her fear was being a failure. She— Could she be any more obvious? He thought to himself, his brain mocking her even though his fear was slightly obvious and pathetic.
“Seamus!” Professor Lupin roared towards the Irish boy, continuing the lesson and trying to ignore the shaking curly-haired Gryffindor that was standing with scarhead and the weasel.
Seamus darted through the crowd of students and stood waiting for the Boggart to change into his fear. He seemed almost too excited.
Crack!
Where the cat had been was now a woman with floor-length black hair and a skeletal, green-tinged face — a banshee. The Boggart banshee opened her mouth wide and an unearthly sound filled the room, a long, wailing shriek that, Draco spotted, made the hair on scarhead’s head stand on end.
“Riddikulus!” Seamus shouted.
The banshee made a rasping noise and clutched her throat; her voice was gone.
“Mr Malfoy.” Professor Lupin called him forward, from the side where all the Slytherins were standing together. Crabbe and Goyle pushed him forward, loudly whispering to each other.
Draco walked towards the front. The silence was deafening as the blood pounded in his ears.
He watched as the banshee turned. He closed his eyes, hearing the familiar clack of his father’s cane hit the floor and he felt the anxiety wash over him. Draco burst open his eyes, and looked down at the floor, spotting the bottom of the cane. He flicked his eyes up and locked eyes with his father.
“R— Riddikulus,” Draco stuttered out.
The Boggart Lucius Malfoy swivelled and suddenly was dressed in clothing which Draco recognised to be some of Great-Aunt Walburga’s. Dawning a dark green hat and matching dress robes. The famous Lucius Malfoy cane disappeared and Lucius slipped to the floor.
The class erupted into laughter as Draco quickly moved back to his group. He could hear Crabbe and Goyle whispering to each other but decided to ignore the whispers, hoping that no one was taking the mickey when it came to his worst nightmare.
If his friends noticed that he was shaken up, they didn’t comment on the fact.
“Next up!” Professor Lupin cheered, clearly proud of how well his students had been performing at this practical. The energy in the room changed again as Draco noticed scarhead step up towards the wardrobe.
Concern flickered through Lupin’s features. The Boggart Lucius Malfoy pivoted and slowly began looking more sinister towards the boy before transforming itself into a dementor.
Suddenly, everything felt like it had been slowed down. The air grew colder and the magic in the air changed. Draco noticed Professor Lupin edging closer to the wardrobe and Potter, carefully grabbing onto his wand.
Potter starts to raise his wand, then something inside of him clicks and he just freezes, keeping him transfixed on the spot.
The Boggart dementor loomed closer and closer towards Potter when Professor Lupin jumped in between the two. He opened out his arms, completely blocking the Boggart’s view of Potter.
“Here!” He shouted at the creature.
The other students moved back, Granger grabbing onto Potter’s arm and pulling him away from the Boggart. The Boggart dementor vanished and rolled into a gloomy mist, as a bright ball appeared. Looking closer, the large silvery-white ball seemed to resemble a full moon.
“Riddikulus!” Professor Lupin exclaimed, twisting his wand at the Boggart.
The silvery orb deflated like a punctured balloon, whizzing crazily around the classroom before darting back into the wardrobe. The door slammed shut with an echoing bang as Professor Lupin placed his wand back into his cloak pocket.
“Well done, everyone. I think that’s enough excitement for today. Class dismissed.” Lupin announced to the class as he turned to check on Harry, who was scurrying to get his belongings and leave as quickly as possible.
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1995
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Hermione sat in her four-poster bed, all curtains drawn and as many locking and silencing charms she could throw up as she practised the Patronus charm. She had been successful at chanting the spell during Harry’s lesson but every time she tried after that, had been a struggle.
“Come on, breath,” Hermione whispered to herself, slowly getting annoyed and angry at herself. She kept calling forward happy memories from her childhood, even calling forward happy memories from the first couple of years at Hogwarts.
Memories of running around the garden as a toddler as her Dad chased her around, pretending to be a tickle monster.
Memories of pretending to be a receptionist at her parent’s dentistry. Swivelling round in the spinny chair as she typed willy nilly on the really old typewriter.
Memories of reading in the corner of the Granger’s living room while her Mum and Dad danced around the kitchen.
Memories of receiving her Hogwarts letter, after a couple of moments of accidental magic which frightened her parents. A little Hermione bouncing around the living room, cheering because she knew that magic had existed this entire time.
Memories of train journeys up and down to Scotland for school, sitting with her best friends Harry and Ron. Conversations filled with summer fun and the latest excitement for the new year upcoming.
Memories of Christmases spent either at Hogwarts, running the lengths of the library in search of new mysteries to discover or spent with the Weasleys at the Burrow.
Closing her eyes, thinking tightly of all the memories she could conjure, she spoke very clearly. “Expecto Patronum.” She announced within her bed. Opening her eyes, she hoped to see the wisps of a clear blue otter but instead saw wisps of clear blue sparks.
Sighing heavily, Hermione was close to giving up. Why had this felt so easy in the Room of Requirements with Harry teaching everyone? Come on, Hermione. We can do this. Just think of Mum and Dad and Harry and Ron and Ginny and Neville and Fred and George and Ferret Draco. Wait, scratch that! DO. NOT. I. REPEAT. NOT. THINK. OF. FERRET. DRACO. MALFOY. She thought to herself, but couldn’t help but laugh at the memory.
Calming herself down, she grabbed her wand again. We can do this. We are Hermione Jean Granger for Christ’s sake. Just don’t bloody think of a certain pointy Slytherin or the ferret version of him.
“Expecto Patronum,” Hermione spoke, her voice smooth as the wisps of a clear blue otter swam out of her wand. She opened her eyes and gazed at her Patronus, trying not to get too over-excited. Hermione felt herself smiling down at the small creature as it swam around her curtain covered bed.
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Draco sat in his four-poster bed, all curtains drawn and as many locking and silencing charms he could throw up as he decided to start practising the Patronus charm. He knew that it was possibly too advanced for his magic to cope but he wanted to get ahead. Do something that Granger hadn’t even perfected yet. He would win at something.
“Fuck sake, come on now. We’ve been at this for hours. Just fucking breath.” Draco told himself, getting rather angry and annoyed at himself. He called forward as many happy memories from his childhood that he could grab, there weren't that many, even resulting in calling forward happy memories from the first couple of years of his schooling at Hogwarts.
Memories of bedtime stories with mother. His favourite was always the tales that she would make up on the spot. Tales of the fearless dragon, slaying the evil creature that would hide in the darkness.
Memories of running around the Manor garden with a child Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini. Their shrieks and chuckles echoed around the Manor as Narcissa kept a watchful eye on them.
Memories of playing pretend with all of his teddies, especially Mr Dragon, and toys as his nanny house elf and mother would join in. Occasionally adding to the storyline that he was making up on the spot.
Memories of spending Christmas at the chateau in France. The loopy cousins came to join so they could spend the holidays together. A young Draco running around, telling stories of his first couple of months at Hogwarts.
Memories of sitting in the Slytherin Common Room, watching out of the windows as he watched the giant squid swim past as Crabbe and Goyle argued. It wasn’t much of a memory but finally felt like he could call this place home. The Common Room, especially in this spot by the window, was his calming place.
Dreams of lifting the Quidditch cup, finally beating the Gryffindor team and finally having his father look down at him. Finally, his father would be proud of his only son.
Closing his eyes, thinking tightly of all the memories that he could conjure, he spoke very clearly. “Expecto Patronum.” He announced, hidden amongst the emerald green four-bed curtains. Opening his eyes, he hoped to see the wisps of a clear blue creature, not knowing what to expect but instead saw wisps of clear blue sparks.
Sighing heavily, Draco was edging closer to giving up. Come on, Draco. We can do this for fuck sake. Just think of mother and Father and Theo and Blaise and Pansy and Crabbe and Goyle and Marcus and a curly-haired witch. Wait, scratch that! DO. NOT. I REPEAT. NOT. THINK. OF. A. CERTAIN. FRIZZY-HAIRED. WITCH. He thought to himself, his thoughts screaming at his heart and memories.
Calming himself back down, he grabbed onto his wand again. Fuck. We can do this. We are Draco Lucius Malfoy for Merlin’s sake. A member of the sacred twenty-eight. Just don’t think of a certain Muggleborn Gryffindor or the curly hair that frames her little, freckled face.
“Expecto Patronum,” Draco spoke, his voice smooth as the wisps of a clear blue dragon dived out of his wand. He opened his eyes and gazed directly at his Patronus, trying not to get too over-excited. Draco felt himself smiling down at the creature as it moved carefully around her curtain covered bed.
He stared in awe at the blue dragon.
He’d done it.
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1998
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Hermione sat down next to Ginny, sitting near the back of the Great Hall, together on the Gryffindor table. As though nothing had changed. As though there hadn’t been the ending of a war that May. And as though there weren’t many friends and family members missing from their world.
She glanced over towards the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables, spotting Draco Malfoy, who was smiling at her.
The two of them had been civil with each other since the Ministry trials of the remaining Death Eaters. Herself and Harry had spoken in aid of keeping Narcissa and Draco out of Azkaban. Hermione had to remain civil with Draco as Headmistress McGonagall had named them both Head Girl and Head Boy.
“Welcome back to another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And please give a warm welcome to all of our first years who are joining us here.” The old witch stood behind the owl stand, smiling down at all of the students before continuing.
Draco nodded at Hermione before she turned back towards McGonagall, listening back into her speech.
“I would firstly like to thank everyone for all of the patience with all of the repair work. The main parts are complete but there are still small parts of the castle to be repaired so my apologies go out if there are any disturbances during lessons.” Headmistress McGonagall informed them all, shooting a sad look at the first years. “Of course, I want to massively thank everyone that helped during these tough times.” She smiled down into the crowd, making sure that every student knew how thankful she was for them.
During the cleanup and the start of the repairs, McGonagall and the other Professors had made a conscious effort of going around to every single student and person that helped to thank them for everything they had done to help get Hogwarts back to what it once was.
“In other news, there will be therapy sessions open for anyone. Please talk to your head of house or go straight to Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing. There are your prefects and your Head Girl and Head Boy, but remember they aren’t here to give you any therapy. However, they can direct you to the correct places for help. Just a reminder, our Head Girl is Hermione Granger and our Head Boy is Draco Malfoy. You will be connecting with your prefects in just due course.” McGonagall nodded towards Hermione before nodding towards Draco. She had already spoken to the two of them, informing them of all the decisions and changes that she had made this year.
Hermione closed her eyes for a long couple of seconds as she could hear McGonagall continue her speech in the background. It was the general first-year information that everyone had heard loads of times so it was acceptable to zone out for just a couple of minutes longer.
“Finally, before you get to dive into the wonderful feast. Every year, except first years, will be having refreshers on certain spells. These refreshers have already been timetabled in, our eighth years will be the first to have them.” Headmistress McGonagall concluded her speech before walking back to the head table.
The food materialised on the table and students dug into the food.
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Hermione sat on the window sill, staring out into the darkness. It was the night before their refreshers started and Hermione wasn’t ready. They had been told that they would be tackling the Patronus charm first then looking at Boggarts. She couldn’t sleep, or at least she tried but her nightmares woke her which explained why she was sitting here again.
Her knees cuddled close to her chest, her head resting on top of them as she stared out at the moon and the stars.
“Penny for your thoughts, Granger?” Draco’s voice came from the open doorway. She broke herself away from staring as she looked towards him.
Hermione turned and welcomed him into her bedroom. He slowly walked over to the window sill, pulling over a small chair and sitting opposite her.
“I’m just dreading tomorrow. These bloody refreshers.” She couldn’t look properly at him, so she decided to keep her eye contact back on the stars. Hermione looked amongst the stars for a glimpse of hope.
Hermione hoped that somewhere out there, her parents would be looking up at these stars. Perhaps not at the same time anymore but she hoped that they were looking up instead of down from them.
“Our fears aren’t the same as when we were children, Granger. Our nightmares never stay the same.” Draco’s voice cut through her thoughts, bringing her back to the current reality, as she felt his thumb stroke across her knuckles. She didn’t flinch at the contact. They’d been in a similar spot the night before. And many nights before that. They’d spent the summer repairing Hogwarts, getting to know each other better and sleeping away the nightmares together.
“Draco—” She started to speak but he just continued as if she hadn’t rudely interrupted him.
“Granger, we aren’t children anymore. I’m no longer afraid of my father and you are no longer afraid of failure. We’ve been changed. We are all new people. That war changed every single one of us, for better or worse it doesn’t matter, we have all changed. We are darker. Our trauma changed us, Granger,” he muttered as he continued the motions on her skin. He stopped his movements as he bumped over the scar on her knuckle. The matching scar that sat on his nose.
“Aren’t you scared of what your Boggart will be?” Hermione asked him, breaking away from the window to look properly at him. “Aren’t you scared that you won’t be able to conjure a Patronus?” Staring deep into the stale grey eyes, wishing that they’d give her something of a clear answer.
“Terrified—” He looked at her, staring back into golden-brown eyes. He could feel her try to poke around for more answers but instantly his brick walls were up and high so no one could breakthrough.
“We have each other though,” Hermione smiled up at him as he placed a single, delicate kiss onto her knuckles. “And no matter what, Draco, we will get through these refreshers together.” She blinked before they moved towards her bed, relaxing in each other’s arms as the night turned to morning.
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“Welcome Eighth Years, to your first refresher lesson. Today’s will be a refresher on the Patronus charm.” Headmistress McGonagall informed the students.
They were standing in their old Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, the room empty except for themselves and their Headmistress.
Joining Hermione and Draco and making up the entirety of the Eighth Year students: from Gryffindor was Neville, Dean, Seamus, and Parvati as Harry and Ron had gone straight to start Auror training. From Hufflepuff, they had Ernie, Justin, Hannah and Susan. From Ravenclaw, they had Terry, Lisa, Mandy, Michael, Anthony, and Padma. Then from Slytherin, they had Theo, Blaise, Pansy, Daphne and Tracey.
Hermione and Draco stood nearer the rest of the Slytherins but she sent a warming smile to her Gryffindor friends who stood on the opposite side.
“The Patronus charm is quite difficult magic to perfect and this won’t be the only refresher lesson on perfecting this charm. We will take things slow, so no need to worry about not getting it straight away.” McGonagall informed the class, talking slow and clearly.
As she nodded, the ex-members of Dumbledore’s Army got to work on trying to perform the charm. The echoes of the enchantment flew through the room as fails of blue wisps bounced off the walls.
Hermione half-smiled at Draco as she wasn’t so convinced that she was going to be able to perform the charm, taking a deep breath before muttering, “Expecto Patronum.” She didn’t bother looking at the end of her wand because she knew that it hadn’t worked, she could feel it in her magic that it hadn’t worked.
She watched Draco, Theo, Pansy, Blaise, Daphne and Tracey try but none of them had much luck with the charm.
“We have as much time as possible, don’t stress. Just breathe and try again, don’t get yourself stressed or freak out.” McGonagall walked around the classroom, moving towards the Ravenclaws, who were also struggling with the charm.
No one had been successful thus far.
Hermione moved away from her classmates, standing in the corner of the room where she could practice alone. She closed her eyes, gripping the wood of her wand and holding it tightly. Hermione pulled forward the memories she had in her fifth year, seeing if any of them could work.
The memories of running around the garden as a toddler as her Dad chased her around, pretending to be a tickle monster didn’t work anymore.
The memories of pretending to be a receptionist at her parent’s dentistry and swivelling round in the spinny chair as she typed willy nilly on the really old typewriter didn’t work anymore.
The memories of reading in the corner of her old family living room while her Mum and Dad danced around the kitchen didn’t work anymore.
The memories of receiving her Hogwarts letter didn’t work anymore. Hermione couldn’t help but tear up at the memories of her moments of accidental magic which frightened the life out of her parents. That memory used to always make her smile, it helped her get through the months of camping and Horcrux hunting. She wished and hoped that one day her parents would remember the little Hermione that bounced around the living room, cheering happily because she knew that magic had existed this entire time.
The memories of her happy times here at Hogwarts were tainted. This place wasn’t the same anymore.
Sitting on the train, watching the countryside fly by, didn’t feel the same anymore. Harry and Ron hadn’t been sitting opposite her as they talked nonsense about Quidditch or other Muggle sports that Harry had got Ron into.
Instead, she spent the train journey with Draco, planning out the curfew rounds, which prefects would be paired with who and who would patrol specific parts of the castle. She didn’t mind spending the journey with Draco, it just— it was a big change that she wasn’t used to.
Hermione felt her knees buckle underneath her as her wand clattered to the floor. The pain of her knees hitting the hard floor ricocheted up her body until her head hit the floor and her eyes welcomed the darkness.
From the other side of the classroom, Draco comes crashing over. He rushes to Hermione’s side, having seen the entire thing take place in slow motion and couldn’t reach her in time to stop her head crash to the floor. As he kneeled by her side, the commotion around him suddenly picked up.
“Granger?” Draco whispered just to her. Hearing his voice, he suddenly realised the panic and the worry that dripped through his voice. “Granger?” He spoke again as he felt more people crowd around him.
“Draco, what happened?” Theo kneeled beside him, looking between Hermione and his best friend since birth. Draco could hear the worry spread through the voice which was something he hadn’t heard in a long time.
“Hermione?!” Neville ran around to the other side, not wanting to get too close but the panic was clear as he looked as though he had seen a ghost. Neville stepped back as he spotted someone edging closer but Draco couldn’t see who it was.
“Merlin, Draco what happened to her? Is she okay? What in Salazar’s name did she do to herself?” Daphne continued spewing her worries next to Theo, who just grabbed onto her hand and promised that things would be fine. They all knew that their brave lion would be fine, she just had a rough patch. They could all understand that.
“Everyone needs to give her space, she overwhelmed herself with collecting memories for the charm.” Padma’s cool and collected voice washed over them all as they all stood to move away, leaving Draco next to Hermione. He was holding onto her hand, stroking patterns into the skin as he dusted over the scar. He wasn’t planning on moving until he felt McGonagall’s hand on his shoulder.
“She’ll be fine, I promise, Mr Malfoy. We would never let any harm come to Miss Granger or any student within these castle walls. Let Miss Patil deal with her and let’s get back to the lesson.” McGonagall smiled towards him as he nodded.
Draco finally stood up, nodding and smiling at Padma before moving away from Hermione and back towards his Slytherins.
He couldn’t keep her eyes off her. She was awake now and was clutching onto a bottle of ice-cold water that Padma had accioed for her. Draco couldn’t hear what was being said but Padma was whispering something to Hermione.
Sighing heavily, he turned back to the task at hand.
Hermione opened her eyes to find that everyone, except Padma who was sitting next to her. She looked around the classroom as she could hear Padma whispering things to her to get her to calm back down. She keeps her hands on the water bottle that had made its way into her hands.
She continued to get back control of her breathing as she watched Draco.
Draco broke his glance away from Hermione for just a moment as he moved away from the other Slytherins, finding himself moving closer to Hermione. He paused his movements, closing his eyes as he gripped tighter onto his wand. Letting the magic wash through his veins. Draco felt his muscles and magic pull forward all the memories he had used secretly on his bed in his fifth year, seeing if any of them could work now.
The memories of his bedtime stories that his mother told him. The memory of his favourite being the tales about the fearless dragon, who would always slay the evil creatures that would hide within the darkness. That memory would never work. He was no longer that fearless dragon, he was scared. The monster may have been defeated but it wasn’t by him.
The memories of running around the Manor garden with Theo and Blaise. Their innocence and naivety about the decaying world around them as their shrieks and chuckles would echo around the Manor, Narcissa keeping a watchful eye on them. It wasn’t the same. It was tainted by the war.
Draco could feel the burning and crippling edges frail around the memory as he glanced towards the same two boys, both of whom were struggling with finding happy memories.
The memories of playing pretend with all of his teddies. His nanny house elf and mother joined in. This memory didn’t work as his father for one threw away his teddies as soon as he was classed as an adult in the family, which was age ten. He had to grow up and be a man. A Malfoy. He wasn’t allowed to be anything but a Malfoy.
The memories of spending Christmas at the chateau in France, one of the only places that don’t have the war attached to it. It still didn’t work. Nothing felt fine and Draco couldn’t find anything to use.
Draco could feel the magic radiating around his body, his veins felt electric as the magic flowed through into his hand holding the wand. He looked away from Theo and Blaise, deciding to glance back over at Hermione. Draco noticed that she was still cradling the water bottle but Padma had moved away now, standing next to her twin who wasn’t having any luck with the Patronus.
Draco locked eyes with Hermione as his magic flowed through him with ease. He could feel the spell on the tip of his tongue as steel grey met golden brown. Draco watched her mouth the words, “you can do this. I love you.”
He closed his eyes, clearly pronouncing the spell. “Expecto Patronum.” As the magic flowed through him, he hoped that it had worked but wasn’t too sure. The air felt different but perhaps someone else had performed the charm. Probably a Ravenclaw or something.
He heard the silence wash over the room as their eyes filled with the mirroring clue blue wisps of a large dragon.
“Figures,” Seamus muttered to Neville who couldn’t help but laugh.
Draco opened his eyes and stared back at the dragon. Was that his? He thought as he glanced around the classroom. Everyone had stopped what they were doing and were staring blindly at the Patronus standing in front of the blond.
“Well done, Mr Malfoy.” Headmistress McGonagall clapped as he looked up to the older witch. “Your first time performing the charm successfully, fifteen points to Slytherin.” She smiled, the warmth radiating outwards.
Hermione clambered up, dropping the water bottle onto the floor. She shuffled over to Draco, wrapping her arms around his neck as she hugged him tightly. Draco could hear Hermione bumbling something in his ears but was none the wiser.
The fact that he had just performed the Patronus charm successfully in front of everyone had him buzzing with energy. Is how Scarhead felt when he had finally defeated Voldemort? Is how Weasel felt when he finally got with Lavender Brown? Draco thought, not being able to help compare himself to his two worst enemies.
Slowly over time, Draco watched his best friends and Tracey perform the Patronus charm, watching as their clear blue figures moved and flew through the air. He felt like a proud father, watching his children grow up.
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“Welcome Eighth Years, to your final refresher lesson. Today’s will be a refresher on Boggarts and the Riddikulus charm.” Headmistress McGonagall informed the students.
They were standing in their old Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, the room empty except for themselves, their Headmistress and the same old wardrobe from their third year.
“Now, I know that I may not be Professor Lupin and I am aware that you all remember these brilliant practical lessons in DADA, but I will still be going over the spell and what Boggarts are.” She explained to the students as they stood, watching the wardrobe shake and rattle loudly.
Draco felt a sudden memory whiplash wash over him as he felt the nostalgia of being taught this lesson during his third year. So much has changed since those times. And yet, has much really changed since their third year?
“So, the main question we must remind ourselves is, what is a Boggart?” McGonagall asked, turning back towards the class, waiting for the hands to enter the air. They all knew the answer. But of course, one hand flew up straight away, like old times but this time Draco didn’t feel the need to mock his little swot.
“It’s a shape-shifter,” Hermione answered. “It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most.” Hermione continued, smiling as she recalled the information that she had known since her first year. Draco remembered asking her if she knew everything from their first year while they cuddled, waiting for the nightmares to piss off.
“Fantastic as always Miss Granger,” Headmistress McGonagall smiled as she stepped around the wardrobe. “Ten points to Gryffindor.” She nodded as the wardrobe rattled again.
Draco smiled at Hermione as Theo elbowed him. He looked at his childhood best friend who, along with Blaise, sent him a knowing look that told him to stop being so fucking cute with Granger.
“The charm that repels a Boggart is, of course, fairly simple, yet it requires a force of mind,” McGonagall cleared her throat, reminding them of the information that Professor Lupin had told them that day.
Hermione could feel Draco’s eyes on her back as she tried listening to McGonagall, even though they all knew this information already. She knew McGonagall wanted to remind everyone anyway, just in case something had happened to people’s memories during the war.
“The thing that really finishes off a Boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing.” McGonagall looked over the heads of the eighth year students, coming to the end of her speech. “Remember, speak clearly and think of funny things. And also remember, riddikulus. ” McGonagall concluded her refresher, stepping away from the wardrobe as the students stood collected in a line.
McGonagal flicked her wand towards the wardrobe door as Neville stood closer to the wardrobe, a couple of sparks shot from the end of it and hit the doorknob.
The wardrobe burst open. The insane and wild-haired, Bellatrix Lestrange stepped out, her eyes flashing murder red at Neville. Draco heard his breathing hitch at the sight of his dead Aunt exit from the wardrobe, as he felt himself move away as if that was the real person. Neville didn’t back away like he did their third year, he was the same scared little boy anymore.
He raised his wand towards the witch, she was getting closer and closer. Bellatrix was bearing down upon the wizard, reaching for her own wand as Neville cleared his throat.
“Riddikulus!” Neville shouted.
There was a noise like a whip crack as Boggart Bellatrix stumbled back; she was wearing a long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a mouth-eaten vulture, and she was swinging a huge crimson red handbag. Something that Bellatrix wouldn’t have worn at all and would have been mortified to be wearing.
There was a roar of laughter. The Boggart paused its movements, all confused at the students laughing at them.
The next student stepped forward, Parvati, calming her features before glancing at the Boggart. Boggart Bellatrix rounded on her, smirking. There was another crack, and where Bellatrix had been standing was now Fenrir Greyback, blood dripping from his fangs as he lifted up the weightless body of Lavender Brown. Scars ran across her face as her eyes shot open, looking dead into Parvati.
“Why didn’t you save me, Paru? I thought you loved me.” Lavender spoke clearly as blood started dripping out of her mouth. Slowly, the Boggart of a dead Lavender started screaming in Parvati’s face. “WHY DIDN’T YOU SAVE ME?”
Parvati tried not to cry as she raised her wand, not many people could hear as she tearfully muttered, “I’m so sorry, Lav, I love you. I will never forget you,” as she then clearly spoke, “Riddikulus!”
The bloodthirsty werewolf dropped the body of Lavender Brown as the werewolf howled as he spun on the spot and what was left in a small golden labrador puppy. He ran around, barking up at Parvati’s face as tears streamed down her cheeks.
The class laughed at the puppy as she stepped back, running towards her twin sister for a tight, warming hug.
The laughter died down as Hermione stepped forward. The Boggart Greyback as a puppy stopped running around and looked up at the curly-haired witch. The Boggart barked at Hermione before changing into her parents.
She shakingly raised her wand as the silence got too much for Hermione until Boggart Richard and Jean looked down at the wand in disgust and fear. They moved closer to their daughter and looked down directly into the face of the small witch.
“Miss Granger, the spell—” Headmistress McGonagall burst the bubble that Hermione seemed to be in as she looked at her parents, she could feel the fear that radiated through her parent's eyes.
“Hermione? You—” Her Boggart father stuttered. Hermione stared between her father and mother as tears started swelling in her golden eyes.
“Don’t you dare perform magic on us again. We should have disowned you when we got the chance, Hermione.” Her Boggart mother stared at her daughter, ignoring the tears that were now falling down Hermione’s cheeks. “You can’t get rid of us, you will never forget what you did to us,” Jean screeched at her as Hermione clutched tighter onto her wand, needing to know that it was still there.
“Hermione—” Her father turned and moved closer towards the witch as he stared at the wand, reaching out to bat it away.
Draco grabbed her hand, moving in front of her as he gently pushed her back towards Theo and Blaise.
The Granger’s stopped their movements as they stared at Draco. The Boggart span, a whip cracking, echoed as the Boggart changed.
Before Draco properly saw what the Boggart had turned into, he heard the familiar blood-curdling scream that had been haunting his nightmares since the day it happened. Draco felt his breathing hitch as he stepped back a few paces before looking down at the floor.
Draco felt the eyes of his aunt stare deep into him as he felt himself stop moving and breathing for just a moment.
“What did you take from my vault?” Bellatrix screamed in Hermione’s face as she swivelled the dagger between her fingers, smirking as she watched the muggleborn witch wriggle beneath her.
“I didn’t take anything. Please, I didn’t take anything.” Hermione wriggled as tears dripped down her cheeks. Bellatrix placed her face above Hermione’s as she licked the tears off of Hermione’s cheeks as she smirked.
Bellatrix smirked as she turned towards where Draco was standing, he patted his pockets to find his wand, not prepared to stop this nightmare. He needed it to stop but it wasn’t ever going to end. He watched as Bellatrix carved the letters deep into the soft skin of Hermione’s forearm, the cursed dagger cutting at the skin.
As he watched every letter be sliced into her skin, he felt panic washing over him as if he was being squished like a small creature.
M
U
D
B
L
O
O
D
Boggart Hermione’s screams echoed and bounced around Draco as he heard real Hermione’s breathing get heavier. He could hear the scuffling of shoes behind him but he didn’t dare turn around. He couldn’t draw himself away from the remainder of Hermione’s torture.
“Draco,” Hermione’s voice called out to him as he felt Theo’s hand on his shoulder. Theo pushed Draco away and stood in front of the Boggart. Draco fell into Hermione’s arm, shivering as he couldn’t stop the tears falling from his eyes.
The Boggart Bellatrix smirked at Theo as it swivelled into Theodore Nott Sr, standing straight and scar-faced in front of his son. Before Nott Sr could utter a word, Theo stepped forward and pointed the wand directly towards his father’s heart.
“Riddikulus!” He shouted at the man.
The Boggart Theodore Nott Sr swivelled and suddenly was dressed in women’s clothing, which Draco, Theo, Pansy and Blaise recognised to be something similar to Great-Aunt Walburga’s clothing. Dawning a dark green hat and matching dress robes. Nott Sr, dawning a cane, slipped to the floor as the heels clacked against one another.
Draco looked up, watching from Hermione’s arms, as the Boggart was forced back into the wardrobe, the clicking sound of the lock sounded throughout the classroom.
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Draco sat in the living room of the head dormitories, his knees cuddled close to his chest as he stared at one point in the wall. He looked at the paint peeling off the castle wall, muttering words to himself. Hermione hadn’t come back to the dorms yet, she had wandered off to the hospital wing to check on herself.
He heard the door open and close again, as he felt the weight change on the sofa. He felt a head of curly hair shift on his shoulder and Draco felt her arms wrap around his waist as he shifted himself to fall into her arms.
“Draco—” Hermione started, looking down at him as he rested his head on her lap. Her fingers found their way instantly into his blond locks.
“Hermione, you don’t have to. I regret that day every time I look at you. I wish that I had done more that day in the Manor but the ending would have been worse. They would have tortured you more. Perhaps, you wouldn’t—” His voice broke as he closed his eyes tight, not wanting to admit what he knew would have happened if he stepped in and stopped his aunt.
“I don’t blame you, Draco,” Hermione told him, staring down at him as she brushed her fingers delicately through his hair. “You didn’t inform them that that was Harry. You recognised him, we knew you did. You recognised Ron and me. You could have handed us over and be in the good books of Voldemort’s but you didn’t.” Hermione muttered as his breathing evened out as he let himself give in to the sleep that was begging for him.
She reached down and kissed his forehead as she continued her movements through his hair.
“You are a brave man, Draco Malfoy.” She whispered into his hair as she let himself sleep in her lap. “I love you.”
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