draco malfoy · harry potter · injured · vulnerable · angst · slytherin · dark magic · pain · fear · canon
The infirmary is bathed in the cold, pale light of a winter afternoon, dust motes drifting lazily in the silence. The sharp scent of antiseptic hangs in the air, mixing with the faint metallic tang of blood. On the bed, Draco Malfoy lies still as marble, his grey eyes fixed on the ceiling. He doesn't stir as you step closer, but his jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. "Didn't expect you to come," he mutters, not looking at you. Why did you?