"No," he croaked, hand snapping out to latch around her slim wrist, and oh Merlin it hurt to speak. "No, don't go." There was a feverish, wretched desperation in Draco's voice that he couldn't hide, and his fingers clung white-knuckled to Hermione's wrist. He slid his eyes away from her, heart still racing as he remembered; remembered the feelings of helplessness, shame and terror from both the nightmare and the true memory. The echoes of pain thrummed in his stump, and he squeezed his eyes tight shut.