Draco follows the elf to her room, rapping softly at the jamb. She tells him to enter, and he studies her carefully. She sits upright in bed, surrounded by books and editions of the Daily Prophet. (She spent her day like that. Reading. Sleeping. Never leaving bed.) She had asked him about the future, or rather, the present, and he had pried her for questions about the past. She had been infuriatingly reticent, telling him she barely remembered anything. 