Draco thought he might be sick. His stomach churned and he mustered all his willpower not to occlude to spare the dread crawling up his spine, but also so that he did not vomit there on the Wizengamot chamber floors. That day had plagued his nightmares for months. Worse, her screams as she took the cruciatus curse over and over, and the dead look in her eyes as his aunt carved that word into her arm, were usually the focus of these nightmares.