She remembers every moment that they have been safe and Draco has been holding her, wrapped in his arms, all tangled together and locked in each other, the way that they do. Always touching in bed, always all wound up and bound together, in the softness of blankets and mattress, and the tickle of his hair clean and soft on her forehead, his hand strong and elegant. She remembers all the time he has spent kissing her – in anger, or confusion, or hungry, desperate need, or sorrow, or gentle tenderness.