Draco’s hand was knocked aside, and he watched, numb, burnt out to his core, as Snape ignored him and the Phoenix both, sliding his arms under Harry’s legs and back and hauling him into the air before he sprinted from the hall. And just like that, Harry was gone, and Draco was left on the floor with only Harry’s blood and Dumbledore’s Phoenix for company. He found himself staring into the bird’s eyes, if only to stop himself from looking to the space on the floor where Harry had been only a moment before. The bird let out a sad trill, and Draco thought he felt something like comfort settle in his chest, but he couldn’t be sure - he wasn’t sure of anything right now. The Phoenix approached carefully, its clawed feet almost submerged in the pool of Harry’s blood, until it was half a foot from Draco and crooning up at him.