He approached. While he wasn’t out of breath, he felt like he was. All of the muscles in chest were tight, so tight, and the air burned when it filled his lungs. He looked Draco over for injuries, again feeling for the blood sticky on his own cheek.

“Someone tried to kill me,” he said, answering the question before it could be asked. “I guess it’s not, you know, I guess it’s not really the start of the Games until that happens.” He swallows the self-pity in a harsh gulp. “How are you?”