Diffraction Patterns (I Don't Know How to Forget You)

Chapter 3: Entanglement

He was trembling, although whether from shock or the cold, he couldn't say. He flipped through his memories, curious about whether they had erased one of the more revolting ones—but no, there it was, he remembered it as though it had just happened, Macnair's sallow face so close to his that he could have spit on him, if he had dared.

Looking to distract himself, Draco asked, "What was it?"

Harry started, as though coming out of a reverie. "What?"

"The memory. What was it?"

"Oh, er...Snape." Harry hesitated, considering him, and then said, "He was talking to you after class. About what you were doing for Voldemort. And you said you were close to managing it. And then your Marks burned...he was calling you, I think..."

Draco rubbed a hand over his face. "It's weird, hearing about something I can't remember anymore."

Harry was still lightly scratching his fingernails along Draco's forearm. "You don't remember? Not at all?"

"I mean, it's..." Draco reached back into his mind to grasp at the hazy memory. "It's sort of there. But it's locked away. It's not like Obliviating someone, I don't think. If I really tried, I could probably remember bits...I just, I don't know, I have the sense that other memories are tied to that one, if you know what I mean..."

Where Harry's fingers had been grazing across his skin, they suddenly stopped. "You're shaking. Why are you shaking?"

"What?" Draco looked up at his anxious face. "I don't know. It's bloody cold out, in case you hadn't noticed."

"I asked earlier if you were cold," Harry grumbled. Before Draco knew what was happening, Harry unbuttoned his cloak and then pulled his navy jumper over his head. His hair was now untidier than ever. "Here." He offered Draco his jumper.

"I'm alright," Draco said stiffly.

"Nobody's going to see." Sighing in exasperation, Harry stuffed the jumper into his hands. It was soft, well-worn. "I thought you said blue sets off your eyes."

Unable to argue, Draco sat up and pulled it on. It was about as baggy on him as it had been on Harry, but it was warm. And, he thought vaguely to himself as he lay back down, it smelled of clean sheets and soap.

"It was sad," Harry said. He was back to rubbing Draco's arm. "Seeing Snape."

Draco very much disliked talking about Severus, and it looked as though Harry felt the same. Finally, he said, "He did a lot for me. More than I realized, at the time."

"He died before I got to thank him," Harry muttered. "Did you know? About him and my mum?"

Draco shook his head. "There were a few times when my parents, I think they wondered...his Patronus, you know, and sometimes, the things he said...but they trusted him. Especially after he made the Vow."

"Were you two close?"

"I don't know." Draco looked up at the bare branches swaying above them. "I guess so. He was my godfather."

"What?" Harry sat up in surprise.

"Yeah."

"Because he was friends with your father?"

"Not really," he said. "I don't think they were that close in school. From what I heard, he admired my father...My father was older, you know, and a Prefect, and he was in with the right sort..." Appalled, he quickly corrected himself. "Not the right sort. Not like that. God. They were awful. I just meant, you know, they had power, they seemed important..."

Harry dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "I get what you mean."

Draco took a deep, shuddering breath. "Well, anyway, my mother always liked him. She felt sorry for him, I think. This was all before my time, so I don't really know the details, but she looked out for him. Told my father to go easy on him." He gave a hollow laugh. "Anyway, it didn't matter, because in the end my father was nothing, and Severus was one of the favourites. And then we found out he was Dumbledore's man."