What if He had a Choice?

59

Draco felt fury course through him, and then fear. Lupin had decided to go ahead with the damned lesson plan anyways. At least he had switched the class around, and they would be doing this lesson with the Ravenclaws instead, but that did not make him feel better. He turned to Pansy and Blaise, who were already plotting.

"Blaise, you will have to go first and then rush to get Professor Snape, Or Riddle, whichever one. I think we all know that this is not going to end well." Draco wanted to scoff, and laugh, and cry, all at the same time. Not going to go well? He knew enough about Lucius, about his father's cruelty, he was not entirely blind. He feared his father just as much as he loved him, and their relationship was horribly toxic, but he could not help but care for him nonetheless. It was his father. Tom got angry, more often then not, when these things happened. His loyalty to his father could not be wavered, though, because he knew how dangerous the other was. Yes, yes, Tom was the young version of the Dark Lord. He knew that, but he had never seen the Dark Lord, much less seen him in a fury, but he had seen his father. That was infinitely more terrifying.

His father had always had different types of anger. There was the all-consuming one, the one where he lashed out and fought, kicked, bit, and screamed. Like with Weasley in the bookshop in his second year. There was the silent and cold anger, the one that Draco hated the most, which was the more normal type, and the deadly and whispered anger, which was the most terrifying. The second one was the most common, and therefore the most hated, it was also hard to predict, and left Draco with more questions and frustrations then anything else, because there was no arguing, no justifying, you could not speak half the time as it would merely get him angrier. At least when he was loud and angry, or whispering and angry you could try and ease the anger.

"Draco, listen to me, stay in the very back, okay? Go last, and the Slytherins will try and prolong it as much as possible but even if you have to fight it..." Pansy put her hands on Draco's shoulders, staring at him in the eyes. "You can do it. Okay? You can fight him." Draco rolled his eyes, and shrugged out of pansy's hold.

"Thank you for the vote of confidence. I am more concerned about what it will pick. If it is a memory, it will be a lot harder to fight." Pansy gave him a worrying look, they all knew Draco had these random flashbacks ever so often, but they were quick, and barely noticeable.

Blaise went first, and it was quick. One could barely see through the fog before it was erupting into fireworks and in the chaos none, but the Slytherins noticed him slip from the room and none heard him book it down the hallways. There was a long way to go from the Potions class room to the Defense classroom, and as it got closer and closer to Draco's turn, his nerves slowly increasing, even if it did not show to others, he knew he would have to fight the boggart. There was no coming back from it. No safety, nothing. It was inevitable, perhaps, and maybe he was screwed in the end, fate never did seem to like him all that much.

Still, he composed himself, and with confident steps, stepped in front of the boggart, in spite of being the last one and having all eyes on him. Yet, his knowledge that this was just a class, it was for class, it was not real, not truly his father, seeing the perfectly placed hair, and the gloved hand curved over the serpents cane, Draco felt some sort of...something...just die in him, and his jaw dropped ever so slightly as he saw the Boggart pick something and shove it in front of him. He furrowed his brows downwards. He doesn't remember this.

"My test results?" He whispered out, though it did not matter as the entire class could hear his echo. one could hear a pin drop.

"You failed," Draco frowned, expressive, unable to help it when faced with his father, facsimile or not. The class of Ravenclaws who had never seen more than an icy glare, or a chilly smile on his face were surprised, and somewhat dumbfounded.

"I have perfect marks. Just like every year." He dropped the paper.

"And yet you place behind that mudblood." The memory flooded through him. It was his first year. The first time he got his results from Hogwarts. his father had not been pleased in the slightest.

"Two points. And only because she was doing a ridiculous amount of extra credit in History." Draco drawled, frustration lining his features. He still got angry at that day. And most of what happened was blocked from his mind. he slowly lost himself, his wand hanging from his side uselessly. "And writing obscenely long essays!"

"And why did you not do this extra credit, Draco?" The way his father spit his name had him flinching subtly.

"Because, I am not a mudblood and don't need to do extra credit for things I already know?" His father was fast as lightning as his hand whipped out before stopping just shy of his face. Draco body tensed his breath exiting shakily.

"Fortunately for you," The boggart Lucius curled his fingers up and dropped them back to his side. "We have the gala coming up." Draco sighed softly his heart shaking in his chest. "And I cannot be having my heir anything other than perfect. But, I cannot allow this slight to pass either." Draco whined.

"Father, it is just two points, I have Os on everything, and am in second for the whole year!"

"Second....yes...behind a mudblood, no less. If it was a pureblood, perhaps I could forgive you, or be more understanding, but a mudblood?"

"Come on, seriously?" Draco heard before he felt the cane whip behind his knees crashing him to the floor. The distance between reality and this fantasy the boggart had created was getting bigger and bigger, and Draco was now fully immersed in the fantasy. Just like the boggart wanted.

"That backtalk is exactly the problem. What did you do, hmm, say something snide to your history professor."

"No, and even if I did he is a ghost that doesn't even noticed his pupils in the first place. I have perfect marks. I don't understand..."

"And that is why you need correcting." Draco groaned, flinching as the cane struck right next to him. "You don't understand. I do not understand how you could not. All those tutors, and teachers, and you still failed."

"Perfect...marks. Father, I understand you are angry, but I will simply do better next year, I-I will take the extra credit and the mudblood won't pass me again, I swear!"

"That is not good enough, son, and I know you know this. You must have a reminder, to ensure that this does not happen again." A low whimper pulled its way from his throat. "As I can't have you showing up marred, there is only one option for me, and you know, Draco, darling, I do hate to do this..." The word Draco knew would utter did not though, as the door slammed open and suddenly his father was gone, and replaced by Tom's dead body, which was banished to the cabinets. Draco felt breathing return to his lungs suddenly, and felt dizzy. He swayed on his knees, not seeing Tom give the deathliest glare to Lupin, and the young Dark Lord effortlessly swooped down like a hero to grab Draco, yank his chin up to stare into dark chocolate eyes.

"Hello my dove,"