Draco was worried about Pansy, but there were plenty of things on his own plate for him to worry about. She was very high on his list of important things to concern himself with, but the list also included his mother and himself, and the order of those three people changed depending on his mood and situation, based on who seemed to be the most immediately in danger. At the moment, they were all in some kind of in-between place, between the battle and the trials he felt sure were going to happen; between being tortured and being healed, in Pansy's case.
And he, well. He was tormented by the shaking cabinet in his father's study.
It was only a matter of time before his mother found it; he couldn't keep it a secret for very much longer. He knew that he needed to take care of it, but he had been avoiding it. Until tonight, when he knew that soon he and Pansy would be off somewhere, in a noisy and crowded environment, when he wouldn't be able to hear the rattling any longer. At first the idea hadn't appealed to him, but then he'd decided to confront the thing in the cabinet.
It was a boggart, as he'd expected. What he had not expected was the shape it took. That was the part that had made the blood drain from his face, left him standing staring into nothing even after he'd somehow managed to get rid of it. His laughter had died almost immediately, to be replaced by horror.
Dumbledore. His boggart was Dumbledore.
He didn't know how long he'd been standing there before Pansy arrived. He turned his pale face towards her and blinked out of his stupor, lowering his wand - Dumbledore's wand. The irony of that was not lost on him at all. He needed to get a new wand.
"The boggart," he said, physically shaking himself as if he could get rid of it. "It's gone. I took care of it."