Please Be There If I Remember

Chapter Twenty-Four: Confrontations

"No, Pansy," Draco answered back calmly to the girl's agitated manner. "I don't think it is."

"Where did this all come from, anyway?" Blaise asked.

He looked pretty on the fence about everything like he didn't want to argue with Pansy, but something Draco had said made sense to him. He just hoped that Blaise wouldn't take the 'coward's' way out, and would listen to what he had to say instead.

"As I said," he answered. "I was talking to someone." Draco raised up his hand before they could interrupt. "And no, I am not telling you, because who that was, or rather who they were is of no concern to you. What I'm saying is."

Blaise nodded as though the answer was perfectly satisfactory to him, and Draco prayed that was enough to help change his mind.

He knew what he was asking was a lot—it wasn't every day your friend, who got his memory wiped, came up to you as if they had all the answers, telling you to change the views that you had been taught your whole life. He suspected that this had come as quite a shock since he was absolutely sure that past him would never have done something like this based on what he heard from Harry, Hermione, and even Theo. But he hoped that he could change what he was like from before into someone better, and if it took getting his memory completely wiped clean then who was he to complain?

On a roll now, he continued on and wished with all his heart that if even one thing he said got into their heads, that would be enough. He decided to start with Pansy and work his way down.

"How would you feel if I saw you walking down the street and started hissing and spitting at you because you had brown hair, Pansy? And you, Theo. What if when I first woke up I refused to talk to you because I thought you were too short or something?"

"I would think that would be a very stupid move," Pansy answered blandly at the analogy, but Draco could see a splinter of something flash behind her face. It was small, and he only noticed it because of the odd ability he seemed to have about reading people, but it existed. Her hands clenched an imperceptible amount and a nostril flared silently like a breathing dragon.

"But that's what you do to people who are muggle-borns and even half-bloods," Draco said, doing his best to stay calm.

"Yes, because they deserve it."

"Why?" Draco asked, and the silence that answered him was everything.

"Because..." Pansy floundered with her hands. "Because!" She eventually shouted. "I'm done talking about this, Draco. You clearly aren't in the right headspace considering you got your memory wiped. It's messing with your head," she sneered.

"No, you are wrong, Pansy. I think the fact that I got it wiped is exactly why I can clearly see how wrong I actually was before. You are just too stubborn to see what is clear as day in front of you."

"I can't listen to this anymore." She said blandly. "Blaise? You coming with me?" Pansy asked, standing up from her couch before turning around to see Blaise who was looking at her with trepidation on his face—one that was not in total agreement with her.

"Fine," she huffed, curling her lip. "I see how it is. Have fun talking with Draco," she spat out. Turning away from the three, Pansy spun around, her hair making a small whipping noise through the air at the force, and stalked away with a high chin through the silencing barrier. Draco could see the people who were left in the common room glance up and stare as she barged through the room at a brisk pace with an air of fake indifference that one would not have to look far to be able to see.

Blaise moved his head back to glare at Draco. "I'm not saying I'm in agreement with you," he stated before Draco or Theo could say anything. "But I think you have a fair point. Or at least a fair enough amount of truth in your words. I don't care if you're a half-blood, but mud—muggle-borns are dirty. They tarnish the wizarding world, entering it when they have no previous ancestors with magic. It's just not possible for them to have the same calibre of power as us. That is where you are in the wrong."

Draco shook his head. "Don't worry, Blaise. I'm not asking you to suddenly become best friends with one or anything. I just want you to think about it for a moment. I'm not even the right person to be talking about this since I'm a pure blood. But I knew you wouldn't listen if it came from someone else, so I understand. Just sleep on it for a while, will you?"

Blaise nodded stoically before also standing up to leave.

Now, all that was left was Theo. Draco actually thought that this had turned out better than he had expected the conversation to go—so far having only one person stalk off before he finished, which was less than he thought.

"And you, Theo?"

The boy was sitting beside him, leaning on the far side of the couch. Draco saw a slightly conflicted look on his face.

Finally, after a moment, he said. "I think Blaise has a point, Draco. But I'm willing to listen to you, because, if I'm being perfectly honest, I don't really care."

Draco dipped his head politely in a resemblance to Blaise's previous manner.

"That is all I can ask for."

The two glanced at each other before both simultaneously standing up and heading off together to the Great Hall for supper as if nothing had ever happened, Draco waving his wand quickly over the spot they were sitting to cancel the silencing charm.

~*"*~

Draco heaved a large sigh of relief, sitting down on a comfy armchair that had a table stationed in front of it. What was it with today being filled with so many confrontations?

Huffing a short breath through his nose, he pulled out a thin sheet of parchment from his school bag and his favourite quill; the feather was multicoloured, brown and grey with splotches of white littering the edges. The nib held ink well, and he found his hand simply glided over the words when he used it.

He gently placed the weathered paper onto the table and, using the dim light from the fireplace, began to write a letter to his mother.

Dear Mother,

I decided to start to write to you regarding what is going to happen this coming Christmas break. I heard that most people are going to be leaving for their respective homes over the holidays, and I was wondering what the tradition in our family was. If you could respond as soon as possible with an answer, that would be greatly appreciated considering the fact that Snape needs to know (and so do I) before the break ends.

Also, how is father doing? How are you? I know we didn't have much of a chance to talk when you were here, so I thought we might start sending letters so I can learn more about you for the time being.

Best wishes,

Draco.

He signed off the letter with a flick of his wrist, reading it over a few times before agreeing that it sounded formal, but not too formal that it sounded cold and unwelcoming.

He resolved to go to the owlery the next day after class since, if he left now, he would not return until late after curfew and he wanted to make sure to get a good night's rest for the class tomorrow. With another sigh, Draco got up, rolled the letter and tied it with a piece of loose string, leaving for his dorms for the night to get ready for the day ahead.