If you're in the mood for angst with a sort of fluffy ending, maybe write about boggarts in eight year? I've always had this idea that maybe Draco would have his older self as boggart, because he's scared of the future and no one accepting him. (Possibly with only Harry seeing what that boggart means, while the other students just laugh bc they think Draco is scared of a retreating hair line) Idk Sorry this prompt is a mess
Holy fuck, I died at this prompt and then came back to life and then died all over again because of it. Ugh. Q U A L I T Y. I have no idea if this is what you had in mind, but I had SO MUCH FUN writing it!!! I am so sorry if this sucks lol I suck at editing and also proofreading and also like. Yeah. Anyways. You’re an angel.
He looked older. He was Draco, but he was weathered, the pristine glow of his high cheekbones now a muted grey, hair set a bit further back on his forehead, crows feet around the eyes that just looked… Dull. Everything about the Draco from the wardrobe was dull and grey, in fact, including the clothes he was wearing.
The boggart met Draco’s eyes with what looked like the remnants of a challenge, a war long lost, leaning forward and whispering something in his ear that made Draco stand even stiffer than usual. He looked down at his feet, eyes darting nervously from side to side as if to search for a way out, and everyone remained quiet, waiting to see when the scary part would happen. There was always a scary part with these bastards.
But Wardrobe Draco simply stood there, arms crossed, occasionally leaning forward to whisper something inaudibly in Real Draco’s ear, and Real Draco looked petrified. More terrified, Harry thought, than the time his own life had been at stake as he pointed his wand at Dumbledore because he had no other choice. He never had a fucking choice.