Three days before the mission, Draco snapped awake from a nightmare with the echoes of his own screams ringing in his mind, his teeth clenched tightly together and his hand balled up in the sheet. He was crying, tears trickling from his eyes in his sleep like he was leaking, and his heart was racing, skin damp with fear-sweat. And his stump throbbed with horrible remembered pain. Hermione was lying on it Draco realised as the fog of sleep cleared, and her elbow was jammed on top, digging into the injury. It was probably that which had made him dream of his father –