"Draco? Draco, it’s me!" Narcissa picked her skirts up in her hands and nearly ran the last few steps to the cellar floor. Hermione stopped halfway down the stairs, feeling like she shouldn’t be present. It was too intimate a moment for her to witness. Draco lay on his bed in that grey shirt and black trousers, his left arm draped over his eyes. And then Narcissa cried out his name, and he struggled bolt upright.