Wrapped in a blanket, pressed against his chest.

Her mind floated up, thoughts attaching to memories.

She'd been outside. She'd been beneath a canopy of branches.

She'd wanted to follow a rabbit down, down, until she found her haven.

Lucius Malfoy had stopped her.

Her eyes fluttered. And she remembered the pain. Her body quaked, and her father's arms pulled her closer.

No, not her father.

Someone held her to their chest, walking, swaying, rocking her back to sleep. Her skin hurt.

Footsteps echoing off marble.

She fell back into the blackness, like blinking.

~*~

"What happened?" A panicked voice burst into her mind, waking her.

She swayed, rocking, walking.

Still in her father's arms.

Her eyelids fought against the paste that closed them together.

"Father! What happened?!"

"Your Mudblood decided to take a walk, Draco." The voice rumbled from the furnace against her ear. A low vibration, lulling her back. "Perhaps you should explain to her—"

She drifted out to sea again.

~*~

A hedge maze, several stories high. A rabbit in front of her, hopping away, looking back at her with Harry's emerald green eyes.

He disappeared around the corner hedge, and when she followed, he was gone.

~*~

Her body ached. She felt every limb spark to life, but they only twitched when she tried to move them.

Her eyes snapped open, and she stared at the canopy of her bed, the cream curtains draped so elegantly.

It was like she'd been immobilized. Her muscles were weighed down, and even her eyelashes worked too hard.

She could see the low sunlight from her windows bouncing against the ceiling.

Turning her neck in a slow rotation, she found a figure standing against her windows, staring at the grounds. Draco. He held a cup and saucer in one hand – tea gone cold, she could guess, with the lack of rising steam. His other hand in his pocket. Dark trousers, but a cobalt blue jumper. Out of uniform.

She stared at his back as she tested her muscles, curling her toes and shifting her arms. He was almost as tall as Ron now. Always taller than Harry. His shoulders had broadened with maturity or with muscle-training, she didn't know, but even through his jumper she could see the shape of him. Draco's clothes were always perfectly fitted. Probably had the jumper handmade, just for him.

The thumb holding onto his saucer bore the Slytherin class ring that had cut her lip the night before. The emerald stone winked at her, teasing her.

Her eyes dropped down, taking in his legs and backside. Perfectly tailored there as well. He stood tall on both legs, never one to lean on a hip unless provided with a wall or a pillar to rest on purposefully.

She used to watch Pansy's hands drift to his hips, either in class with a quick pinch to his thigh, or in dark corridors past curfew where Hermione would either interrupt the couple and take house points or walk away briskly with the image of green-painted fingernails sliding down his back to squeeze at him.