the fall
Draco Malfoy’s broomstick shot up into the sky like a comet, cutting through the clouds with the precision of a seasoned Seeker. He soared higher, faster, his goal the glimmering golden snitch dancing tantalizingly ahead. The roar of the crowd was a distant hum, drowned out by the blood rushing to his head. He didn’t even notice the way his vision blurred at the edges as he neared the top of his arc, his stomach a pit of hunger he had long since ignored.
Four days without food.
It was nothing, really. Not compared to the years of survival he’d learned to endure. But as Draco reached out, his fingers brushing the snitch, something inside him gave way. He felt his balance falter. His body began to tilt, and then—
“Malfoy!” The last thing he saw before everything went black was the fast-approaching ground, a terrifying blur of green and brown. His stomach churned as dizziness claimed him. He couldn’t even muster the strength to scream.
Blaise Zabini caught him just in time, his arms outstretched like a shield. He was the only one who had noticed the way Draco's face had drained of color before he'd gone toppling from his broom. The impact was rough, but Blaise had the muscle to absorb the shock, pulling Draco safely into his chest. “Bloody hell, Draco,” Blaise muttered, breathless. He checked his friend's pulse He looked up at the stands, where the game had come to an abrupt halt. The professors were already on their way over. Draco had barely moved, his usually sharp eyes screwed shut, his skin a little too pale. From the corner of his eye, blaise saw Harry Potter standing at the edge of the crowd, his face frozen in an expression that could have been concern... or annoyance. It was hard to tell. But one thing was clear: Harry was watching him. Watching the still unconscious boy in his arms, Draco Malfoy, the boy who had once been his enemy. blaise couldn't help the way his lips twitched downwards, a scowl imprinted on his face even as he set his friend in a floating stretcher so pomfrey could take him to to the hospital wing.
Harry didn’t dare leave draco out of his line of sight the entire time the professors hovered around. For the first time since their return to Hogwarts for their eighth year, Harry felt that feeling towards Draco Malfoy. he hadn’t felt that towards him since fourth year.
He had always known the Malfoy's were steeped in cruelty, born of privilege and wrapped in pride. But seeing Malfoy like this, pale and shaken, made something inside Harry crack. He felt an unexpected tug of guilt and... worry. “Is he going to be okay?” Harry found himself asking, his voice quieter than usual as he watched Madame Pomfrey hover over Malfoy, fussing over him. Blaise stood nearby, his arms crossed as he shot Harry a warning look. “He’ll be fine, Potter,” Blaise answered shortly. “Dont need to pretend that you care oh noble Savior.” But Harry couldn’t. He couldn't stop thinking about the way Draco had fallen—how the arrogant, untouchable Draco Malfoy had looked so vulnerable as he hurtled toward the ground.