Wonders of Ohio (draco x reader)

Epilogue

Draco set the cube down once again, watching as the memories of Y/N sunk back into the confines of the shape.

He'd done it again. He kept telling himself that he needed to shelve it for good, that he needed to stop digging through her memories like some perverted stalker. He always felt filthy after every iteration of her side of the story, but he couldn't stop. It was the only piece left of her. Every time he relived it, he noticed something new. This time, it was the burning jealousy she felt when he'd told her he was going to homecoming with Heather. Last time, it was the ache in her chest when she discovered what he was and the conscious way she needed to remind herself to create distance between the two.

Draco knew that, at face value, this was an invasion of privacy. But whose privacy was he violating? Certainly not Y/N's—she had no idea who Draco was and probably wouldn't care what he thought about a version of herself that no longer existed. He could still see the look on her face after he obliviated her. A part of him wanted to see the spark of recognition in her eyes. Not a part of him—every bit of him wanted his obliviation cube to be flawed, just enough so it was clear he made an effort. It would've bought him—it would've bought them—more time.

His phone chimed, and he reached out and picked it up. Granger gifted him the mobile at the Department of Mysteries coworker Yule party after he wouldn't stop talking her ear off about how much he wished he knew how Y/N was doing and regretted not devising a system to keep tabs on her.

"Here," Granger had said to him that night, shoving a small bag into his hand. "If you have any questions about how to use it, let me know."

He had offered his bewildered thanks.

"Just stop spending half of the working day complaining and help me out every once in a while, yeah?"

It was just another news notification. He sighed, resting his forehead in his hands once again.

He needed to stop doing this to himself. He had to let this go.

It had been something he'd struggled with ever since he'd left Y/N. When he'd said goodbye to her, he'd told her that it didn't need to be the end, that perhaps there was a chance for them. It had been a complete lie. He'd always known that there was no going back. There was a distinct lack of safe restorative methods using the obliviation cube—it was engineered to be foolproof, to be unbreakable. Even if he was capable of giving everything back to Y/N, an entire set of ethical questions stood in the way.

There had only been one documented case of successful restoration. And, while the memories were technically "successfully" given back to the recipient, Draco didn't consider it to be successful. Not when the muggle had been driven to insanity after realizing they'd been missing an entire part of themselves and never knew. They had built a family, moved across the world, and had grown into their own lives without the wizard they had met—and then, all of a sudden, they were catapulted into a past they didn't even know was theirs.

Draco was no saint, but he wasn't delusional enough to attempt such a procedure with Y/N. The Y/N that he fell in love with no longer existed. The obliviation cube was designed to not only remove memories of him and the magical world, but to go further and essentially reboot her mind, resetting it at the point before they met.

He knew that it was cruel and barbaric, stealing a year off of Y/N's life like that. If he'd had a choice, he would've done whatever was necessary to keep it from happening. But he knew how hard she'd worked for what she had. He could not, in good faith, ask her to give up her world for him.

He needed to start treating it more like a death, he realized after a few years of self-pitying and moping about. There was no Y/N, not the Y/N that he remembered. Not anymore.