Draco’s mind cleared of everything but the duel, and the constant, biting pain. The wizard duelling him was good, but his form was sloppy, and his blocks just a little too slow, and it took less than a minute for Draco to take him down with a cutting hex to the throat. He had always been good at duelling, he thought, and smirked to himself. They already had at least one prisoner; they probably didn’t need any more. And with the Order’s capacity for holding prisoners so low, killing the enemy was almost encouraged. Hypocrites. Draco used a protego just in time to block a curse, and reeled on his feet, swinging around, trying to find the one who cast the curse.