Draco nodded, closing his eyes and breathing deep and slow, and trying to think of Hermione, not the way his mother had just stood there silently as Lucius had sliced through Draco’s flesh and hacked through his bones, with the cursed silver blade. Remembering Hermione’s hands greedy and eager on his face and shoulders and chest and her lips dotting soft kisses on his jaw, instead of the way he had screamed and screamed as his hand had been cut and hacked from him, while his mother had just stood there pale and frightened and not doing a fucking thing.