Chapter Ten: Reparations and Resolutions
In the end, the Head Boy, Andrew Runcorn, saw things getting out of hand and brought the party to an early close. Of course, that didn't mean people stopped talking about sides. When Tracey and I retired to our dorm room, we had to listen to Millicent, Georgina, and Pansy talking about how they would support the Ministry's interference at Hogwarts and how someone needed to stand up for Slytherin's rights. It was enough to give anyone a headache. And, to make matters worse, it was all anyone in our house could talk about at breakfast the next morning, too.
The morning started out as usual. I sat down on the long bench with Blaise on my right, Nott in front, and Tracey beside him. I was still in zombie mode and perfectly happy to eat my toast in silence while Blaise read The Daily Prophet and Tracey copied off Nott's Herbology essay. That peaceful morning lasted about five minutes before Pansy showed up with Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle in tow.
"Montague's giving another rant about how Slytherin should support the Ministry," said Pansy, sliding into the seat beside Nott.
I fought back a groan. It was way too early in the morning to be talking about this. It was also way too early in the morning for me to interact with Draco. To make matters worse, Draco took the seat on my right, and Crabbe sat down next to Pansy. Neither she nor I were happy about these arrangements.
"So everyone's in the common room listening to him?" asked Blaise, glancing up and down the Slytherin table, which indeed seemed fairly empty for a Monday morning. No wonder I'd thought it was so peaceful.
"It's just a repeat of what he said last night," said Pansy, helping herself to some fruit.
"He's just using his moment for what it's worth," said Nott.
I nodded and muttered, "It's the only time people care what he has to say."
Even though the comment had been intended for Blaise, Draco overheard. He turned to me and, with a surprising lack of disdain, said, "I haven't heard your opinion on the Ministry or Dumbledore debate, Daphne. Don't you have an opinion about everything?"
I did have an opinion about everything (thank you, Draco, for pointing that out), but I'd been keeping silent about this whole debate, because no matter what I said, I was bound to make a few enemies in my own common room. And as most of the other students in this school hated me for my house, I'd rather keep my enemies in Slytherin to a minimum.
But now, the eyes of my friends were on me. They'd all shared their thoughts last night. Tracey was anti-Umbridge, and since Umbridge represented the Ministry at Hogwarts right now, she was anti-Ministry. Nott thought similarly, but he'd added that if the Ministry sent someone else to monitor Hogwarts, and he thought they would make a positive change to the school rather than simply campaign against Dumbledore, he could be persuaded to change sides. Blaise was pro-Ministry, anti-Umbridge. However, he wanted change not for the reasons Montague had listed. Blaise wanted regulations in place such as a standard for professors (no more Death Eaters in disguise) and for detentions (we had all seen the scratched words "I will not tell lies" on Harry Potter's arm). Whenever the question of "Slytherin rights" came up, they all shot me curious glances and refused to comment on the matter.
Draco was still waiting for me to answer, but I had no idea what to say. Finally I settled on, "I haven't heard your side either."
Honestly, I had no desire to hear Draco's perspective on the matter—I figured he was pro-Ministry and pro-Umbridge, end of story—but I'd rather avoid sharing my opinion with him. It'd thrown me to hear some of my usual rants coming from Graham Montague, and I didn't like to think that people might actually be listening to what I had to say.
"My father believes that Dumbledore will cause the downfall of this school," said Draco. Blaise's eyes narrowed at Draco, once again, beginning his opinion with mention of his father. Draco continued as if he hadn't noticed, "Umbridge is a hag, and she needs to teach us some spellwork before our OWLs…"
There was a moment of silence where we all prayed to whatever wizard God existed for our Defense Against the Dark Arts grades.
"…But she's at least bringing some regulation to this school. That half-breed oaf isn't qualified to be a professor, and Trelawney…" Draco snorted, showing just what he thought of the Divination professor.
"The half-giant should never have been allowed to teach." Pansy jumped on Draco's words with the soppiest expression on her face. One would think he'd just declared his love for her rather than insulted two professors. "Remember the hippogriff third year?"
Draco made a face. I didn't think he liked being reminded of how he'd been savaged by a hippogriff. Personally, hippogriffs had been promoted to my favorite animal that day.
"And then there's the whole Slytherin rights that Montague keeps talking about," said Draco. He looked at me expectantly.
"Why do you want to know my opinion?" I asked. I genuinely couldn't understand why Draco Malfoy—the king of pricks who always believed they were right—cared what I thought.
"You're the one who usually rants about this stuff," said Draco with a one-shouldered shrug.
Tracey nodded and playfully rolled her eyes at me.
"It's true," said Pansy. She spoke mainly to Draco, trying not for the first time to impress him with her wit. "Last night it sounded like Montague had actually been paying attention to your Slytherin reputation speeches, Daph." She laughed as if the idea of listening to my rants was funny. Crabbe and Goyle laughed too, so that was an indicator of how good Pansy's sense of humor was.
Draco didn't laugh. Which was surprising, since I never thought the day would come where, even for a moment, I would like Draco better than Pansy.
Other than Pansy and the two minions, the rest of us seemed to be in stunned silence, not quite able to believe Pansy would say such things…not about one of her friends.
"You're one of the horrors we warn first year about," Pansy told me. She switched to her prefect voice, polished and proper, and said, "'Unless you want to get your ear talked off about some Harry Potter conspiracy, don't go near Daphne Greengrass.'" She, Crabbe, and Goyle laughed. Her high-pitched voice usually didn't bother me, but today it reminded me distinctly of a banshee.
"Pansy," said Nott sharply. "No one finds it funny."
"Oh, come on," said Pansy. "I'm just teasing a little." She beamed at me, showing all of her white teeth. "Daph knows I'm teasing."
"There's teasing, and then there's being a cow," snapped Tracey.
Hesitation flickered across Pansy's face, and for the first time, she seemed to realize that she'd crossed a line. It probably helped that Blaise was glaring at her as though he was contemplating trying out one of the Unforgivable Curses not-Mad-Eye Moody taught us last year.
And then, to the shock of all present, Draco said, "I think Daphne's pretty smart. It'd do those first years some good to listen to her."
I don't know if he said it just to piss off Pansy or if he genuinely meant it, but either way, I think that might have been the nicest thing Draco Malfoy had ever said about me. The fact that Draco, of all people, had come to my aid was enough to throw my entire world off-kilter. Draco was never nice, especially not to me, especially not since I laughed when not-Mad-Eye Moody turned him into a ferret last year. He was the biggest prat I'd ever known—he brought his father into everything, he was proud of being from a family of Death Eaters and pureblood supremacists, he bullied anyone he considered lesser than himself, he whined when something didn't go his way, and he treated Pansy like dirt (not that I was particularly mad about that at the moment). But, right then, I remembered that Draco also tutored Crabbe and Goyle so they could pass their classes, and there'd been that one time in third year where he'd helped me figure out how to banish a boggart because my friends had been too busy with their own school work. And Draco was one of the few people in our house, besides my friends, who would discuss Dumbledore's treatment of Slytherins with me. It struck me then, as I gawked at the skinny, blonde bloke sitting next to me, that one day Draco might grow to be a semi-decent person.
Of course, he then had ruin that thought by saying, "Though my father thinks Daphne's a disgrace to the Greengrass family."
Well, that "one day" was still a long ways off.
Pansy was backtracking immediately. "Obviously Daphne's really smart. I was just having a joke." She turned to me, pleading in her eyes. "I didn't mean it, Daph. You know I didn't. I just get carried away sometimes."
My friends were glaring at Pansy, and I didn't think they were in the mood to forgive her anytime soon. I was still trying to recover from Draco destroying my entire worldview and then restoring it two seconds later, and all I could do was mumble, "I'll live."
"You know," said Tracey, a little louder than necessary, "I have a mountain load of homework to get done by tomorrow." She got to her feet, the remainder of her breakfast untouched, and gave me a pointed look.
"Yeah," I said. "I have homework too."
"Me too," said Blaise, while Nott grabbed his bag and got to his feet.
The others watched as Tracey led the way out of the Great Hall, the rest of us following. I half expected Pansy to come after us, begging for forgiveness, but it seemed she didn't want to give up her seat near Draco at the breakfast table. A part of me wanted to turn around and hex her into oblivion (which of course would be a disaster because we all knew my wandwork was terrible), while another part of me wanting to curl up behind one of the suits of armor and cry (which might be worse than one of my hexes going astray).
It was a relief when the heavy doors closed behind us, and we were left alone in the Entrance Hall. Tracey paused, and Nott looked at me, as if waiting for me to say something. Blaise placed a hand on my forearm, but I shrugged it off. I didn't want anyone's pity right then.
When I didn't speak, Tracey folded her arms across her chest and said, "Merlin, Pansy can be such a cow."
I nodded. I hated how much Pansy's words hurt me. I liked to think that I had thick skin, that years of my parents ignoring me had given me the ability to endure anything. But apparently Pansy saying that the whole of Slytherin house found my conspiracy theories annoying was enough to make me want to break down and scream. Hippogriff shite. I didn't want to be this person.
"Draco brings out the worst in her," said Nott.
"What does she see in him?" asked Blaise. He sounded genuinely puzzled.
"I'll let you know when I figure it out," said Tracey. She scowled at the doors of the Great Hall.
"You know what I think about Montague's 'Slytherin rights'?" I asked suddenly.
All three of them turned to look at me, their eyes wide. Of all the things they'd expected me to want to talk about now, Slytherins rights was probably somewhere near last on the list.
"It's a pixie shite notion that doesn't address the real issue." I glared at one of the moving paintings who seemed offended by my cursing. "Montague may have stolen some of my ideas, but he's missing the point. Yes, other students—and professors—shouldn't call us future Death Eaters, and yes, they shouldn't assume all Slytherins are terrible. But you know what? We're also not doing anything to change their perspective of us. People like Draco, Pansy, the two minions, and Montague keep furthering our reputation. It's not going to change unless we do something to change it."
Blaise and Tracey were still recovering from their surprise. Nott, however, said, "You refer to You-Know-Who as 'the Dark Lord' and call muggleborns 'mudbloods'. I don't think you can put all the blame on Draco and Pansy." He paused. "And the two minions." Tracey glared at Nott, silently telling him to shut up, I was not in a condition to hear about this, but he ignored her. Nott refused to be quiet, and instead, he calmly said, "You're also guilty."
"She's right though about them contributing," said Blaise. "Are you saying Daph shouldn't point out problems?"
I barely heard what Nott said in reply. I was still too busy reeling from his words. I was just as guilty. I was just as bad as Draco and Pansy. Well, maybe not as bad, but I was still guilty. No wonder the rest of Slytherin house found me annoying—I was just some hypocrite spewing conspiracy theories that no one cared about.
But they weren't useless theories. Now that I was thinking things through, I realized that I was overreacting a little. Obviously my ideas weren't terrible if Montague decided to use them to spur the Ministry versus Dumbledore debate. And Draco seemed to find my ideas interesting, even if he didn't always agree with them. Blaise, Nott, and Tracey were always willing to listen and discuss, and even Pansy sometimes thought I had some valid points. It was just… I was a hypocrite. And no one, not even me, wanted to listen to a hypocrite.
Nott and Blaise were still snapping at each other, while Tracey looked on, fair exasperated at this point. I tuned back into their argument just in time to hear Blaise say, "Daph's just fine the way she is."
While he hadn't lost his temper yet, he seemed to be on the verge of it. Even when he wanted to hex someone, Blaise rarely showed any outward signs except a cold glare. But right then, he looked as though he was on the verge of shouting at Nott. Poor Nott had no idea what he was in for.
"You know," said Tracey, linking her arm with mine, "I really do have homework to do."
Before the boys could even register what was happening, Tracey and I headed for the library. The best thing to do when people were upset, Tracey always said, was to walk away; nothing good could come about when everyone was angry and hurt. I had never fully appreciated the wisdom in those words until that moment. We left Nott and Blaise behind and went to the library where we took out our textbooks and spent the next four hours doing homework.
Reading was therapeutic for me. Everyone else might fall asleep over the History of Magic texts, but I found the Goblin Rebellions enthralling, and soon the memory of Pansy's cruel words and Nott's blunt truth left me. The hurt drained away and was replaced by curiosity. What had caused the goblins fail? What had caused the Ministry to succeed? Was it bad leadership on the part of the goblins? Was it an effective use of propaganda by the Ministry? Did it all simply come down to luck? I scribbled down notes in the margins of the textbook, drawing theories in my head about how the use of cruelty had been such an effective tactic for the goblins but had ultimately lost them the war because they couldn't gain the support of the common witches and wizards.
By the time four hours had passed, I'd finished my History of Magic essay, and all the emotions from that morning's breakfast had settled into nothing more than a sense of dull bitterness. I was still Daphne Greengrass. I was by no means perfect, but I wasn't the worst human being around. And I was trying to get better.
"How you feeling?" asked Tracey, looking up from her Herbology textbook.
"Well, for a while I could understand why Urg the Unclean thought beheading witches and wizards was a good idea, but now I think I could settle for just a stinging hex."
Tracey smiled. "The Goblin Rebellions always help."
"Always."
From the beginning, I'd known the whole taking sides debate was going to end horribly. And I'd been right. The only problem was that it had ended horribly for me.
I spent all of Sunday doing homework and hanging with only Tracey. She talked about what had happened only if I brought it up first; however, she didn't seem to understand why I was making a big deal about saying 'mudblood'. "After all," she said, "you don't mean anything bad by it. It's the people who say it to hurt others that I hate." I thought it was a big deal though I couldn't exactly say why, but I stopped trying to explain myself to Tracey. If it wasn't a big deal to her, then I wouldn't try to make it one.
Madam Pince had to kick us out of the library so she could close up for the night, and we slowly trudged back down to the Slytherin dungeon. I briefly wondered if I could send an owl to Sue and Stephen to see if I could crash in the Ravenclaw common room that night. Then I wouldn't have to see my friends until classes the next day. I wasn't a Gryffindor, so it wasn't as if I had any pretend sense of bravery to live up to, facing my fears and all that. But before I could make up my mind to flee, Tracey gave the password to the Slytherin dungeon, and we went inside.
The first person I saw was Blaise. He was the only one in our usual spot at the back of the common room. I scanned the common room but didn't spot Nott or Pansy anywhere. That was probably for the best. I wanted to deal with my friends one person at a time.
Blaise sat in one of the leather chairs, reading his Transfiguration textbook. Whatever feelings of anger I'd had at him earlier, they were gone. I was still a little annoyed at him for arguing with Nott, yes, but Blaise had only been looking out for me. So I bounded across the room and took a seat on the armrest of the chair. He only glanced up at me, made sure I was all right, before he went back to his homework. Tracey came to join us soon after, sitting on the couch and finishing off her History of Magic essay.
I had finished all my homework in the library, and now that I'd gotten over my initial anger, I wanted to talk. But I knew Blaise wouldn't understand if I tried to explain why Nott's words had hurt so much, why I agreed with Nott that I was a hypocrite. Blaise wouldn't get what was so bad about me saying, "mudblood", any more than Tracey had. "It's just a word," he'd tell me. But it was more than just a word. It was proof that I wasn't much better than Pansy or Draco.
I was relieved of my thoughts, surprisingly, by Nott. Actually, it wasn't that surprising. I knew he was going to approach me at some point. Nott was a good person. He wouldn't let this awkwardness stand between us.
"You want to talk?" Nott had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his robes as he stood next to the armchair. He could barely look at me. He hated talking about emotions and all that, so I imagined this must be killing him. However, if he'd come over to apologize, then I wasn't going to stop him.
I slid off the armrest to follow him. Tracey and Blaise watched us carefully. I'm sure if I'd made any kind of sign that I wasn't in the mood to talk to Nott, they would've whisked me away. I smiled at them so they knew everything was okay.
Nott led the way out of the central area of the common room to the entranceway. He waited until we were out of sight before leaning against the stone wall and looking at me. Nott was, I thought, incapable of not looking dark and mysterious. His brown hair was rumpled as if he'd run his hands through it one too many times, and he had a grim, brooding expression on his thin face.
Of course, he ruined the brooding look by saying, "I'm sorry, Daph."
"I know," I said. "I'm not mad."
"You're not?" He seemed genuinely surprised, and for the first time that night, he met my eyes.
Wearing my warmest smile, I said, "You were just trying to help. I'd rather someone point out my flaws than let me go on ignorant."
"I just had awful timing," said Nott.
I snorted. "The worst."
"Sorry."
I rolled my eyes. "You apologized once, and I'm not mad. Besides, you were right. It was hypocritical of me to go around talking bad about Draco and Pansy because they damage the already-damaged Slytherin reputation when I was contributing as well."
We stopped talking as the wall slid open to admit two second-year boys into the dungeon. We waited until they'd walked past before continuing our conversation.
"I do too," said Nott. "Call them 'mudbloods', that is." He was shifting from side to side, his gazed fixed on my feet. "It's easy to fall into the role of the Death Eater's son."
I moved to stand next to him, leaning against the wall and putting my hands in my pockets as he did. I didn't touch him. If he'd been Blaise, I would've leaned my head on his shoulder, but he wasn't Blaise, and while we were good friends, our relationship wasn't one where I could touch him that easily. So we stood side by side, watching as the two sixth-year prefects left the common room for patrol duties.
"It makes some things easier," said Nott, "to be my father's son. I don't get as much shite from Draco and the minions as the rest of you lot do. Other students will leave me a wide berth because they don't want to upset the Death Eater's son. My visits home are much more pleasant because my family assumes I believe what they believe and I'll follow in my father's footsteps." He tilted his head back and stared at the arched ceiling of the passageway. I didn't know what was going through his head, but finally he said, "I hate seeing myself like that."
"I hate being the thing I hate too," I said. "We're such prats."
A wry smile crossed Nott's face and he turned to look at me. "We are, aren't we." This statement was followed by a heavy sigh. "What are we going to do about it?"
His question threw me, and for a second, I could only stand there and blink like an idiot. It sounds a bit stupid to say, but it had never occurred to me that I could do something. Up until that moment, I'd figured that being hypocritical was just part of who I was, and I was going to have to learn to accept that part of me. But no, now that Nott had asked, the answer was obvious.
"We're going to change," I said. "You and me. It's our resolution for the New Year. No more saying 'mudblood' or joking about our careers as future Death Eaters—"
"Only you do that," said Nott.
I winced as it occurred to me that what might have been a joke to me was a dreaded reality for Nott. However, rather than let myself be bogged down by the stupid things I'd said in the past, I continued with my resolution, "But we're not going to further the Slytherin reputation anymore. We may be fifteen and prats, but we're better than this."
"Are we?" asked Nott. He seemed genuinely uncertain, his eyes slightly wide and questioning.
"Of course we are," I said. "Or we will be."
Nott hesitated and then asked, "You aren't dragging me into another one of your quests to be a 'main character' are you?"
With the fiercest scowl I could summon, I said, "You brought it up, so this doesn't count as me owing you a sickle."
"Of course not."
"This has nothing to do with my desire to be a main character, and everything to do with me wanting to be a better person. My bet about Harry Potter is me reclaiming my school years for myself. For years, everything has evolved around Harry Potter and what Harry Potter is doing. I don't want to be that person waiting on the fringe to see what Harry Potter's story will be this year. No, I want my final school years to be about me and no one else. Harry Potter is going to be a side character in my life, not the other way around." I paused for breath. "But this—changing the way I talk, the words I use—this is about being someone better. I don't want to be what everyone else expects me to be—a muggleborn-hating, Dark Lord-worshipping future Death Eater. And I don't want people to assume that all Slytherin's are like that. So the first step in changing people's minds is to become the person I want them to see Slytherins as. And you…" I glanced at Nott. "You also don't want to be what people expect you to be, right?"
Nott smiled. "Right. New and improved"
I couldn't help the grin that spread across my face. For once, I wasn't making resolutions on my own while my friends rolled their eyes. For once, someone was trying to change with me. "We'll be the new and improved Theodore Nott and Daphne Greengrass."
"Please don't say it like that," said Nott, rolling his eyes.
"Why not?" I asked. "It sounds cool!"
"Only you would think that," said Nott. "If anyone else overhears you saying that, I'm going to deny this conversation ever happened."
I stuck my tongue out at him, and he laughed. I elbowed him in the side. He elbowed me back. Grinning to ourselves, we leaned against the wall of the passageway and watched as two seventh-year girls walked past, giving us suspicious glances. I couldn't help but grin at them. Then, when they had entered the dungeon and disappeared from sight, I turned to Nott and said, "From now on, we will do our best to stop further the Slytherin reputation—and our own—and perhaps even try to repair some of the damage done to it."
We shook on it. A wizard and witch's promise.
I never thought I'd say this, but I was grateful for the end of term exams. The sudden load of homework and studying meant that everyone forgot about the Ministry versus Dumbledore debate. The Slytherin common room was filled with students of all years, pouring over textbooks and old essays, trying to remember every spell and counterspell. I spent most of my time in abandoned classrooms, learning either Transfiguration from Blaise, Defense Against the Dark Arts from Nott, or Charms from Hannah. Hannah said she'd ace her Charms OWL at the end of the year thanks to all the practice I gave her, and well, I couldn't disagree.
For the most part, my friends and I recovered from the incident at breakfast, and things went back to normal. Whatever fight had occurred between Nott and Blaise, they seemed to have forgiven each other (I don't even think they talked about it—they'd just nodded and continued on as if nothing had happened). Nott and I got along, if possible, better than before. The one time I'd used "muggleborn" in conversation rather than "mudblood", I turned to Nott with a triumphant smile, and he'd buried his face in silent laughter (I was probably prouder of using the word one time than I should've been). Tracey had forgiven both Blaise and Nott, and soon she was back to her normal self, sharing gossip she'd gotten form the sixth-year Hufflepuff girls and copying Nott's essays before class.
The one exception was Pansy. Our group felt strangely empty without her presence, but we also couldn't bring ourselves to include her again. If she'd given me a proper apology, I would've forgiven her in a heartbeat, but it seemed that Pansy didn't want to admit that she was wrong, and she took to avoiding me like the plague. She ate meals with Millicent and Georgina, and she sat next to one of them or someone from another house in classes. In Potions, where she was forced to sit with Nott, Pansy only spoke to him when she needed help and Nott reluctantly gave her advice. Interestingly, she didn't seem to follow Draco around as much either. Occasionally, I spotted her talking to him and his minions in the common room, but it was only for short periods of time and she disappeared into our dorm room soon after.
"How long is this going to go on for?" I asked Blaise one night. We were sitting in the common room, my legs draped over his as I read from my Transfiguration textbook and he practiced summoning objects from across the common room.
"Until she realizes she needs us more than we need her," said Blaise. With a flick of his wand, he made his Charms textbook fly to his left hand. I watched with envy…what I wouldn't give to be able to perform a spell so easily…
"What if she never realizes that?" I asked.
"Then she loses out on a good group of friends," he said with a one-shoulder shrug. "We can't force her to apologize for the shite she said, and I'm certainly not forgiving her until she does. It's her problem, not ours."
"But Pansy's our friend," I said.
"If she's our friend," said Blaise, "then she'll apologize to you. Until then, we wait."
With a sigh, I started to read the page about animal transfigurations again.
I agreed with Blaise, of course. I didn't want a friend who talked about how annoying I was and then refused to apologize, but still... Pansy was Pansy. Pansy who had welcomed Tracey and I into the girls' dorm first year and promised that we'd be queens of the school if she had anything to say about it. Pansy who had told our futures when studying for her Divination exam and predicted that I would one day be the greatest arithmancer the world has ever known. Pansy who had called Roland Abberly a "prat not even worthy of being dragon-fodder" when he'd made Tracey cry third year. Pansy who had giggled like a child when Draco had asked her to the Yule Ball last year and who listened to me ramble about my crush on Cedric Diggory. Pansy who had joked that she told first-years to avoid me unless they wanted to listen to my annoying conspiracy theories. I didn't want to lose Pansy, but I wasn't ready to forgive her either.
In the end, our friendship was put to the test when Pansy approached me after our Charms final. She didn't say much, just grabbed me by the arm and tugged me away from the rest of our friends. Tracey and Nott looked ready to intervene, to tell Pansy this wasn't how you treated a friend, but I shook my head at them and followed Pansy obediently.
When she finally let go of my arm, we were standing in an empty corridor two right turns away from the Charms classroom. I immediately folded my arms across my chest and tried to look as intimidating and unforgiving as possible. Pansy had made me feel like shite, and I wasn't going to let her get off easily.
"Daph…" Pansy could barely say my name as she stared at the ground and scuffed her foot against the stone floor. This was not the loud, confident Pansy I was used to at all, and it threw me. My unforgiving face faded a little, and I think I might've actually looked concerned. Pansy lifted her dark brown eyes and said, "I'm a cow."
My jaw dropped. Pansy—selfish, I-can-do-no-wrong Pansy—was actually coming to a self-realization? Was she finally beginning to see herself as others did? Was Pansy about to become reformed?
"I shouldn't have said those things," said Pansy. "It was mean and cruel and petty and even Draco asked how I could treat my friend that way after you lot had left the table."
Never mind. I would like to take back what I said about a reformed Pansy. In the end, her self-realization came only because Draco had pointed out her fault to her.
My eyes narrowed, and I tried to put my unforgiving face back into place. It was a bit late though, and I think I looked more pained than anything else.
Pansy ran a hand through her hair. "I don't know why I said those things…"
"I do," I said, my voice flat. "Draco. It's always Draco with you."
"Why are you bringing Draco into this?" cried Pansy. For a moment, I thought she was going to fight me on this. Her dark eyes were narrowed. But then, her shoulders slumped and she ran a hand through her hair. "I'm not that bad around him, am I?"
I raised my eyebrows. How exactly was I supposed to answer that? Did she want the full truth or only half-truths? Yes, she was really that bad around Draco. She stopped being my friend and became a love-sick puppy dog that trailed after its uncaring master.
"It's just…" Pansy bit her bottom lip. "I've liked him for so long…"
Tears actually started welling up in the corners of her eyes, and before I had time to think, I was patting her shoulder and telling her that everything would be all right. It was only after I told her that "Draco isn't worth your tears" that I realized I was supposed to be mad at Pansy, not comforting her. How did I get roped into this? She just looked so pathetic with a trembling lower lip and slightly puffy eyelids that I couldn't help but think "Poor Pansy".
Suddenly, Pansy lifted her head, tears still in the edges of her eyes, and said, "You're right, Daph. I am better than this."
"I'm right more often than you think," I said. In my head, I added that if she bothered to listen to my "annoying" theories, she would know that.
"You may be Potter-free this year," said Pansy, "but I'm going to be Draco-free."
I blinked. "What?"
"I mean," said Pansy, "it'll be harder for me to avoid Draco than it is for you to avoid Potter, and I'm not paying you a sickle every time I talk to Draco—but this is the year that I move past Draco. No more inviting him to sit with us at lunch. No more picking on Gryffindors to impress Draco. No more fawning over him between classes. As of this moment, I am Draco-free." She paused and then added, "You know, I've always said Hamish Knighton is pretty cute. You think if I asked him to Hogsmeade, he'd say yes?"
Before I could answer, Pansy had turned away and started down the corridor (I figured in search of Hamish Knighton). However, she paused and turned to look over her shoulder at me, her brown eyes strangely fragile. "We're good, Daph, right?"
It took me a second to remember that her resolution to be Draco-free had come from her attempting to apologize to me. Slowly, I nodded. "Yeah, we're good."
A wide smile spread across her face. "I don't know what I'd do without you lot."
And then she was gone, leaving me alone in the corridor with what I was certain must've been a stunned expression. Pansy—Draco-obsessed Pansy Parkinson—had just vowed to give up on him. And this wasn't one of those times where Pansy was crying over ice cream after Draco had done something mean to her and she vowed to move on… No, Pansy had reached this decision all on her own (well, maybe with a little help from me), because she realized that being around Draco made her a mean person, not just to Gryffindors but to her friends. Who would've thought this day would ever come?
Well, I guess stranger things had happened at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry over the years… But with all these resolutions, the new year was certainly going to be interesting.