"But you’re better now, Draco. You’re going to be just fine," Narcissa continued and her hand fell from his forehead to his right shoulder, patting it softly. Draco frowned; he still couldn’t recall being sick. But that didn’t matter now. He was at home, with his mother – the details didn’t matter, weren’t important. He brushed his confusion away like cobwebs. This illness he’d apparently had must have given him memory loss, he decided blithely.