As the door swung open, the scene before him was unexpected and jarring. Draco stood on the doorstep, drenched by the rain, his usually immaculate appearance dishevelled and undone. The rainwater had plastered his short blond hair to his forehead, and his suit clung to his lithe frame, wet and wrinkled. Blood had stained his nose and the front of his shirt, a testament to Harry's song that had led Draco to this point.