Harry simply hummed at that, not sure how he was expected to respond. He hadn't shared that reflection to gain neither pity nor sympathy, and though Draco's demeanor had softened with exhaustion, Harry could tell it wasn't a tangent he wanted to entertain.<br/>Braiding another link, Harry had reached the nape of Draco's neck. For good measure he did another few, but the plaid was harder to maintain like that and he quickly lost interest and dexterity to finish it. When he let go of Draco's hair, there were still several inches unbraided.<br/>Thoughtlessly, he trailed the line of Draco's spine with both hands, fingers kneading against muscle as they dipped towards that center line.<br/>With a soft exhale, Harry tipped his head back against the pillow. In contrary to Draco's hair, the ceiling was out of focus, making his eyes fall shut, blind either way.<br/>"Dobby died that day," he shared. His voice was steady, not looking for a spot to place the blame. Brushing another caress across Draco's shoulders, Harry certainly didn't blame Draco for his death.<br/>It simply just then occured to him that Draco might not have known of his house elf's passing.