Going back to sleep was impossible. His mind was racing over the previous day's events again and again, though he always returned to the same thing - Draco’s expression when he had told Harry he was done. Furious disgust. He could feel panic building in his chest, but it was more like a dull kitchen knife digging into his side than a sword running him through. It was a good way to describe most of his feelings at that moment - blunt, and distracting. He knew though that dwelling on them would be like taking a whetstone to them.