broken but not ruined

He’s covered in blood, though not his own.

A spray of crimson stands out in sharp contrast to the paleness of his skin and the stark white of his shirt. Once crisp, it’s now wrinkled and torn, burnt and stained.

His chest expands with the remains of his adrenaline, taking deep lungfuls of air with nostrils flared, and it pulls at the leather wand holster wrapped across his shoulders. Hermione’s gaze follows the spatter that dots his neck and up to his face, cataloguing the damage that’s been done. A split, slightly swollen lip and the purple bloom of a bruise against the sharp bone of his cheek seem to be the worst of his visible injuries. There’s a rough, raw patch of skin on his jaw, though she can’t tell if it’s a burn or a scrape. Motion catches her eye and she follows the lines of his body back down his arm until she sees his long fingers, flexing around his wand at his side. He’s got bloodied knuckles and protruding veins that track up his hand and forearms, and a new set of scratches that will likely add to the map of his existing scars. But once he sees her, his body goes still.

Malfoy’s alive, and he’s found her. Just like he always does.