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

Chapter 5: Diffraction

He struggled to escape his mother's grasp—she was pulling him away, but he ripped himself forward, trying to keep his eyes on Potter as he yanked the goblin out from under the chandelier. Go, go, go, Draco urged him. He watched as Potter took Dobby's hand—Dobby, he thought wildly, what the hell was Dobby doing here—and then his aunt whipped her knife across the room as they began to vanish—

This time, he didn't have to push the holly wand away; Harry stopped of his own accord, speaking gently as Draco toppled out of the memory. His Mark burned angrily. Uncomfortable in Granger's presence but unable to stop himself, Draco grabbed at his arm, gritting his teeth.

"Is he okay?" he heard Granger whisper.

Harry's face hovered above him, but it melded with scenes from the memory they had just witnessed—the chandelier, splintered on the floor; his mother's mouth, twisted in anger; the silver knife as it flew across the room. Draco closed his eyes tight. "Hurts."

"It's okay, Draco," Harry murmured. "Can I touch you?" He nodded, and Harry's hand was on his forehead, smoothing the hair away from his damp face.

"It was the same one," Harry said. "The same memory."

Granger made a disappointed sound.

"You're okay, Draco. You're okay."

"Why does it have to be that one?" Draco groaned. "Why that memory? I don't understand."

"I know. I'm so sorry."

"I don't think there's anything else we can do," Granger said. "I'll check the library again. But there are so few sources...and they take ages to translate." She hesitated, and then called, "Er—Draco?"

He grunted.

"I can pass you this book, if you like. I might have missed something."

Draco shook his head. "If you haven't found it, it isn't there."

He realized that he had just complimented Granger, in a roundabout sort of way. She must have noticed, because her voice was kind when she said, "I'll go to the library first thing tomorrow."

"Does it still hurt, Draco?" Harry asked. "Your Mark?"

"Not really." And it was true—the agony had settled into that deep, familiar ache. Instead, it seemed to be his very soul that hurt. He was so tired of this. A part of him was done. Just done.

"Your Mark..." Granger said tentatively. "You can hardly even see it."

"She's right, Draco," Harry said. "Nobody would know it's there."

"But I'll know," he said dully.

"Draco." Harry reached down and took one of his hands in his. Surprised, Draco couldn't help but open his eyes. Harry had a solemn look on his face. "If you erase that memory...it doesn't change what happened. I'll still remember."

He looked away stubbornly.

"You'll still have done it, whether you remember or not."

"I know that."

"Harry's right," came Granger's voice. "And if you erase that memory...I think the Mark will be gone. Consider it, at least."

He couldn't bear to discuss this any longer. "Fine."

Harry gave him a crooked smile. "You won't, will you? You won't consider it."

Draco raised his eyebrows.

Harry chuckled. He was rubbing his thumb against Draco's knuckles. "You're so stubborn."

Behind him, Granger scoffed. "Oh, as if you're any better."