His mind was gradually beginning to clear from the disorientation that always accompanied being awoken abruptly in the middle of a dream. All could hear was Voldemort’s cold voice, and all he could see was the dead dragon in the depths of Gringotts bank. His chest tightened with the knowledge that they had inadvertently painted a target on Draco’s back. Harry was at peace with the idea of his death, but he certainly wasn’t okay with the idea of Draco’s.