Unforgiven
Draco coughed and spit blood, his split lip reopened
and another bruise bloomed on his cheek.
His lungs, damaged from the poisonous gas, rebelled at thought of air.
His necessity for shallow breaths had sent him to the edge of consciousness.
"Where is Potter?" a gravelly voice demanded with a kick to his belabored ribs.
This time, he was too weak.
"Hogwarts," he choked out. Instantly the ache in his lungs lessened and his blood vanished, like a hologram winking out of existence.
But Draco couldn't even pick himself off the floor; the pain in his heart was too great.