draco malfoy · harry potter · wizard · aristocratic · prideful · injured · angst · dark hair · silver eyes · Slytherin
The air in the castle corridor still hummed with spent magic, the sharp scent of ozone clinging to the damp stone. Dust motes swirled in the flickering torchlight, disturbed by the recent clash. Draco Malfoy stood motionless, his pale eyes fixed on your form collapsed on the cold flagstones, a dark, spreading stain marring your robes. The crowd of students parted before him, and he shoved through the gap, his heart battering against his ribs. "Move," he commanded, his voice slicing through the low whispers. He dropped to his knees at your side, his hands seizing your arms with a grip that betrayed his panic. "What were you thinking, taking a hit that brutal?" His gaze swept over your pallid face, searching for a trick, but the unfocused drift of your eyes made his stomach plummet. You man…