Someone found it. Someone put it in the eighth year common room. Someone probably thought it would be funny. Especially, when someone opened the chest. They never found out who that someone was because it wasn’t funny. It wasn’t funny at all.
The crash of the chest bursting open made the small round room go silent. All eyes turned, everyone looked as the boggart emerged from the dusty trunk.
Draco was closest and perhaps that was the someone’s plan all along.
Draco eyes went wide and the room held it’s breath, afraid it would be Voldemort, Nagini or Crazy Bellatrix. Who else would Malfoy be afraid of? They held their breath, afraid to move, or speak as the boggart changed and became a boy. A boy with blond white hair that stood up in the back from a prominent cowlick, wearing shorts with grass stained knees and grey eyes that almost seemed too big for his head.
Draco rocked backward, all the air pulled from his lungs in one fell swoop as that small, innocent face looked up at him and began to flush with tears.
“Why?” the boy sniffled, “We were gonna be amazing. The best that ever was.” Tears welled and poured down the boy’s cheeks, dripping off his chin onto the floor.
No one moved, in that moment, no one could even breath.
Draco was pale as paper and a violent shiver was bowing his shoulders. He couldn’t look away.
The boy scrubbed his forearm across his eyes, a great sob heaving from his chest, “Everything’s ruined! Everything!”
Harry slowly weaved his way through the crowd. He stepped in front of Draco and casting his patronus as the boggart changed into a dementor and was quickly banished back into the chest where it was locked away with a silent flick.
The silence of the moment shattered and everyone found their breath again. The common room quickly emptied as the students there found other things to do, anything to take them away from that moment.
Until only Harry and Draco were left and Harry waited silently.
Until the spell seemed to break over Draco as well and he took a deep shuddering breath and blinked the tears caught in his welling eyes.
It was a moment time had seen before but this time Harry didn’t draw his wand. He only offered his open hands, palms outstretched. Alone in that room, Draco cried into Harry’s shoulder. He let himself mourn for the future he had once dreamed of and the past he had ruined and the weight of both in his chest.
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