As Draco's mind tries to process his next move, the air ripples around his wrist, and he freezes.

It's a subtle thing, as gentle and forgettable as an errant breeze. But it's one he's never felt before, a breath against his pulse, a fleeting touch from a stranger, the weight of eyes on his skin. All of those soft, tender, almost-not-there sensations, centered on the series of three numbers scrawled across his skin.