And the pain went on and on and Draco wanted to die. He would rather be dead. His head was thrown back and his fist clenched so hard his short, ragged nails drew blood from his palm, booted feet drumming spasmodically against the grass. It went on and on, and it hurt. It hurt. It hurt. Then the pain just stopped and Draco’s body went blessedly limp, save the twitches of the after-effects.