𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑎 𝐷𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟 (Draco Malfoy x OC)

𝓔𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽

a/n -

Coronavirius sucks and all, but at least I get to read & write :)

Also thanks for 250 reads <3

***

Olive

"Bloody hell," Ron mutters, as a cloud of dust falls onto him from the cabinet above him, "When's the last time this place was cleaned?"

Harry glances over to Ron, coughing as the dust settles over the room, "Dunno, but I reckon not for a couple decades."

Ron groans, and goes back to dusting the cupboards.

"What are you complaining for mate? I'm the one who has to testify in front of the whole bloody ministry tomorrow." Harry says, worry creeping into his eyes.

"You'll be fine Harry, don't worry. You just gotta remember to stick to the facts," Hermione says, "Anyways, we have to finish soon, or Mrs. Weasley will have a row,"

"When are we going to clean that one?" I say pointing to a large black cabinet that has been shaking and rattling for the past half hour.

"Reckon there's a boggart in it," Ron says, crinkling his nose.

"You're probably right; I haven't dealt with those vile creatures since year three," Harry says, his lips tilting into a frown at some long forgotten memory.

Hermione sighs, "Well there isn't much point in waiting, is there?"

She walks over to the cabinet, placing her hands firmly on the handles.

"You sure about this 'Mione?" Harry says, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

"For the love of Merlin Harry, you fought You-Know-Who a couple months ago, and you're worried about this?" Ron says, which earns him a nasty look from Hermione, and a not-so-pleasant-looking punch in the shoulder from Harry.

"What was that for?" Ron mutters to Harry, gripping his shoulder lightly.

"Git," Harry mumbles to Ron.

Hermione rolls her eyes, "Will you two act your age, for once please? Merlin, how do except to pass your OWLS acting like this?"

"I was only - " Ron starts, but I cut him off.

"It's fine, I'll do it." I say moving towards the cabinet, tired of their bickering.

But as soon as the words slip out of my mouth, I instantly regret them. Boggarts; creatures that take the shape of your worst fear.

Who knows what sort of awful being the boggart will take shape of.

The woman I killed, perhaps?

My heart beat picks up as I realise that there are far worse things that the boggart could take shape of - terrifying things I wouldn't be able to explain. Deatheaters, darkmarks, and worse still ... Lord Voldemort.

If the boggart happens to take the shape of the Dark Lord then I am, well ... fucked. How on earth would I be able to explain that? The only person alive besides the Deatheaters that know what Voldemort looks like is standing right beside me ... Harry Potter.

He'll know immediately, and everything I worked for will be ruined. Worse still, if I fail my mission because of this, Voldemort certainly won't hesitate to kill me.

'For Merlin's sake, how could I be so stupid?' I think, my mind racing for a way to out, a way to escape this.

My heart is pumping in my ears, and sweat starts to trickle down the back of my neck.