Please Be There If I Remember

Chapter Eight: Trepidation

The one thing that bothered him about the conversation with Green Eyes wasn't the fact that he talked about Draco like he was some kind of dog, but the fact that he was able to rile him up so easily. Draco hadn't felt that kind of anger before, even when he learned his memory had been wiped.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice he was about to walk into someone until it was too late. He had bumped up into something scratchy and white and stumbled backwards quickly, apologising to what he realised was a frail, old-looking man.

"Sorry sir, I didn't mean to walk into you like that. Are you alright?"

"Fine, my dear boy, I am fine. It is you I am worried about," came a warm, smooth voice. The old man had bright blue eyes that were twinkling in the light of the empty hallway, and Draco felt the sudden urge to look away.

Without purposefully doing it, Draco realised that he had put up a strong wall of occlumency shields, and felt his reactions turn numb and polite like he was reciting off of a piece of paper. Not lifting his gaze from the old man's beard, he responded. "You must be the headmaster. Madam Pomfrey said your name was Dumb-Door, if I recal correctly. I assume you've heard all about the memory loss thing then?"

The man seemed to barely restrain a chuckle as he let out a quick huff through his mouth, which consequently moved the white hair on his chin with it.

"Yes. I was actually looking for you since your head of house seems to have not done a very good job at summoning you. Your mother is here."

Draco felt his breath unwillingly escape his mouth and his already pale face felt as if it had turned whiter.

"My mother?" He said with a whisper, unconsciously phrasing it like a question.

"Yes, dear boy, your mother, Narcissa Malfoy. I'm afraid your father is too busy at the ministry at the moment to see you as well, but we deal with it as one must."

Figures, Draco thought, with no sense of nobility for the man that was his 'father.' Some father he was turning out to be.

Letting the new calm that had settled on his shoulders after his mind had unconsciously blocked itself off–when Draco had learned occlumency, he didn't know, but it was best not to worry about it now–he didn't let his unfounded anger show, and Draco put a look of sadness on his face. "That's too bad. I was really hoping I would get to meet him." Then, with an acting performance that deserved an oscar, he straightened his shoulders and pretended to struggle to put his 'sad face' away. "Well, that's alright then," He answered with false cheeriness, "Let's go see my mother."

Without once looking up into the man's eyes, Draco turned around and started to walk before stopping. He glanced back at Dumb-Door with a small pink hue on his cheeks. "Um, where is my mother at, sir?"

This time the old man did let out a chuckle as he started towards another part of the castle that Draco hadn't been to yet. "This way, my dear boy. This way."

And Draco followed, disregarding the weird shudder of revulsion he got whenever the man tried to catch his eye and said 'dear boy.'

They walked together down the hallways, and Draco pointedly ignored the strange looks that the students who hadn't gone to their last class were giving them. Draco supposed they made quite a sight–a wise old man leading a nervous schoolboy with white hair to match, and following behind him with so much trepidation he was basically going backwards.

At least Dumb-Door wasn't a fast walker.

After what felt like forever, they finally made it to what Draco assumed to be the headmaster's office. There was a gargoyle upfront and Dumb-Door said some type of sweet before it started to move and brought them up to the room.

He had to steel himself when he reached the large door, his hand lingering a lot longer than necessary on the handle as he struggled with himself to just open the damn door already.

Finally, his hand listened and turned the handle before the door sprung open by itself with a small creak. The sight inside made him stop short.

There was a beautiful woman sitting in one of the chairs, her back slightly hunched over herself, like she was deeply worried over something and she couldn't be bothered to check her appearance. Her hair was platinum blonde like his in some spots, and a dark black in others. The dress she was wearing seemed to accentuate her against the bright and chaotic room behind her, and yet she fit exactly how he imagined his mother to look—regal and elegant, with an aura around her that spoke of importance.

He let out a breath and stepped forwards toward her.

"Hi mother."

The woman—his mother—stood up with instant relief on her face.

"Draco."

He smiled and moved up the steps to her. She brought her hand out in an attempt to shake it, most likely in consideration of the fact that Draco didn't know who she was yet, but he ignored it and strode up and hugged her. She stilled a bit before moving and hugging him back so tightly he had to fight the urge not to make an 'umph' sound, but he didn't, if only to save the little breath he had left.

"Hello mother," he said once they finally parted. She smiled at him—albeit a little sadly—before schooling her features into an impartial mask. Draco noted he most likely got his acting skills from her.

"Hello, Draco. How are you? Are you fitting in well with your new surroundings? I hope your accommodations of having Blaise and Theo as your roommates are going well, since you had specifically requested it." Her eyes also shined with the glittering question of 'did you tell them about the memory loss?' but she again gained control of herself.

"Yes mother, they have taken well to my new...uh, predicament."

"Wonderful. I am glad, Draco."

He smiled up at her wondering if most mother and son relationships were like this; so formal and subdued, the only hint of affection being an upturned lip or a swift touch across his hand like she was reminding herself that he was really there.

Her brows furrowed together and she looked at Dumb-Door who was still standing in the doorway. "I would like a moment alone with my son if you don't mind. I was quite worried when I heard about what happened. As was his father," she added.

"Yes, of course, Narcissa. I shall be waiting outside when you are done so we can talk about what is going to happen next, and the actions we should and shouldn't be taking."

With that final note of not-so-subtly hinting that Narcissa shouldn't go off on a murdering rampage for the person who had wiped her only child's memory, the old man left, leaving Draco with an odd sense of relief on his shoulders.

"I'm not sure about you, mother, but Dumb-Door gives me the creeps."

She gazed at him quizzically before letting out a small burst of laughter so delicate, but full of amused joy that Draco couldn't help but look at her oddly.

"What is it?"

"Draco dear, his name is Dumbledore, not Dumb-Door."

Mortification dawned on Draco as he realised that he had just called the headmaster of this entire school a dumb door in front of his face. "Oh God, please tell me you are joking."

"Not in the slightest," Narcissa said with a sympathetic nod and laughter behind her eyes.

"I can't believe this," Draco muttered into his hands. "That's not exactly the first impression I had wanted to make with him."

"Well, be glad you already managed to have one, even if you don't quite remember it yet," She stated somberly, the humour now gone from her voice.

The word yet hung in the air like the plague, drawing Draco in with hope–even was unprecedented, and not totally realistic since he had only the one memory and it was enough to frighten him from wanting anymore for the rest of his meager life.

He smiled again at his mother and strung his hand through hers.

"Thanks for being here."

The nod he got back was enough to make him feel like he had drunk a thousand bottles of calming potion and he didn't even feel sad when Dumb-Door–Dumbledore–came in and told them he had to talk to Narcissa outside, and he hugged his mother goodbye.