Draco didn't have to think to remember that. His father wasn't the most demonstrative man, and that had been one of the few times he'd said it.
"You said you loved me." His voice broke slightly on the last word, and Draco cursed himself internally. He was not a scared fifteen year old anymore, and he didn't need his fathers approval.
He stepped forward again, almost against his will. They were a hands breadth apart now.
"She is. She came from 1998. Like I said, we're all from different times. You must be from at least 1996, if you remember my fifth year." Easter holiday. Right before he went to Azkaban and everything changed.