Draco’s back thunked onto a hard, rounded edge – the back of a couch? – and his neck snapped back and then forward and pain shot down his spine and up into his head, and his teeth clacked together, catching the side of his tongue and sinking deep into the flesh. He lolled on the floor like a broken marionette, whimpering softly. His back and neck felt like they had been snapped in half by the impact, and his burnt leg was twisted awkwardly beneath him. The pain seared through him, washing his vision dim and splotched, but he had to keep fighting. Draco lifted his head – it felt leaden on his shoulders – and saw his enemy leer at him triumphantly, unleashing a hex.