"Just fucking give me a minute." His voice sounded funny to his own ears, and he tried to breathe deep and slow and calm his quick-thudding heart. Draco’s mother still loved his father, even after all he had done; Draco knew that. Was that normal, or did it prove she didn’t really love Draco? Or that there was something wrong with his mother, to love Lucius still? Draco didn’t know and he really wished he had someone to talk to – not Hermione, but someone who could give him some fucking answers. Tell him what it all meant. Tell him what to do, what to say. How to feel.