He turned to Draco, and felt his entire existence narrow down to the heartbroken man in front of him, collapsed on the floor, tears streaming down his cheeks, begging even now for Harry to run. It was if Harry had been placed into a vacuum - all of the sound in the hall felt as if it had been compressed into a high-pitched ringing somewhere in his middle ear, and all he could clearly hear was his own deafening breathing. Draco’s mouth was moving, but his words could not bridge the space between them. Harry wished faintly that he could hear him. He’d give anything to hear his voice this last time.