Hermione. Draco smiled deliriously. Of course it was. Her hair bedraggled and face unbelievably weary and spattered with blood droplets. Her movements were slow and clumsy, and she limped as she advanced on the wizard, her teeth bared and chest heaving. Draco’s first thought was of his wand, to help her, and he threw himself toward it and froze, mouth opening in a silent rictus of a scream as his maimed leg sent agony like a flash-fire through his every nerve. He gasped, and his vision blacked out, and his stomach lurched, fingers clawing into the lush carpet.