*The pure and the mud* (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Part 6

A/N: So this part is pretty much a flashback to Y/n's third year, introducing her boggart. This will be important pretty soon in the story, which is why I have chosen to write it now! <3

Me and the rest of the gang had been enjoying Professor Lupin's lessons so far. He was teaching us things that neither Quirrell nor Lockhart would have ever let the thought of teaching us even slip into their minds. Both for two different reasons, but that's a tale for a different day.

Arriving in Professor Lupin's room with Harry and Ron, I allowed a certain feeling of placidity to swarm my entire body, and I felt myself allow my shoulders to droop. They must have been tense and scrunched all day, which became easier to realise once I allowed them to slouch into a much more comfortable position.

Whilst approaching the front of the room, I spotted a rather husky looking old wardrobe. It was positioned besides a comparatively medium sized Professor Lupin, who seemed as though he wasn't bothered by the proportion of this towering cabinet. 

After a small welcome back, Professor Lupin introduced us to the contents of the wardrobe.

"Can anyone explain to me what a boggart is?" He questioned, his eyes gliding across the room full of curious looking students.

Hermione's hand flew into the air, and Harry, Ron and I all shared a puzzled glance.

"Did either of you see her walk in?" I whispered to Harry and Ron.

They both shook their head in unison, and turned back to look at the front of the room where the wardrobe was standing.

After the boggarts were explained (by none other than Miss Hermione Granger herself) the entire class were queued up in front of the wardrobe, waiting in silence. Standing there, waiting for something to happen was almost painful. The only noise I could hear were small, inaudible whispers emanating from Professor Lupin and Neville. 

Once these small voices had stopped, Neville pulled out his wand, the door nob started to turn, and out inched a tall, greasy potions professor who I knew all too well. 

"R-riddiculus!" Neville's voice gave a small quiver as he spoke this. Instantly, Snape became no more than what looked like an old lady with a kind of obscure fashion sense. The entire class began to giggle uncontrollably and the large queue started moving. I wasn't too far from the front anymore.

After multiple new cause for sputters of laughter, it was my turn, and it suddenly didn't feel as welcoming as it did when I was watching from afar. As I stepped forward, the boggart substituted the large spider wearing roller skates, and became what looked like a small scene including myself, panicked and alone.

I was running around, often halting in front of stalled passers by, waving my hands in their face and waiting for a reaction. When no such thing came, I curled myself up and sat in a ball on the ground, crying into my knees and rocking back and forth.

There was no laughter this time, all I could hear were distant mutters from the back of the classroom, where a small group of Slytherins were huddled. I could distinguish every voice. We had Crabbe and Goyle sniggering something about weak, and Pansy Parkinson.

"Isn't that pathetic Draco?" When she didn't receive an answer, she gave a harsher breath. 

"Draco!" 

"Give it a rest, Pansy"