"I thought so too, until Viktor hauled me out." Their eyes were locked together, grey on brown, and hers were warm and greedy on his – and also terribly glazed, her pupils unequally sized pinpricks in her firewhiskey brown irises. Hermione had certainly worsened the concussion she’d acquired earlier, Draco thought, and resisted the urge to reach out to her. To stroke her cheek and kiss her forehead.