Draco told himself that over and over as he flattened himself against the end of the counter, and peeked around it, got off a stupefy that actually hit home and toppled a Death Eater, more through dumb luck than any skill at aiming. His heart was racing, pumping like crazy in his chest and Draco felt like it was going to go faster and faster and faster until it just exploded. His head was fucking fuzzy and felt as though it were stuffed with cotton wool, and his hand was fucking shaking, and his back screamed against the counter as he pressed against it, grinding shards and chunks of glass deeper into his flesh. He bit down on his lip hard and tried to control himself, to focus through the pain and exhaustion.