It was pointless to try and decipher the words spoken to him. Draco’s ears were ringing and his sight was blinded by his own blood, now pouring down his face from multiple lacerations. He was winded, gasping for breath and for the moment Draco was able to stand, the next moment he was grunting in agony as another blow crashed into his body, his head and with the next blow, Draco heard one of his ribs crack and he winced in agony as the air in his lung almost hissed out like the deflating of a balloon.
If Draco could have spoken he wouldn’t have argued for even he knew that recently he’d been overly emotional and quite frankly, a sap of a man. Pansy had helped him realise this, whether she knew it or not, and that night with her had been far more instrumental than even he knew or could articulate. Draco’s eyes were blurry with blood and his breath was as fractured and irregular as the ribs in his chest. And as the pain seared through his body, as the blood poured down his face, Draco collapsed just as Amycus grabbed a hold of his shirt and drove his body again into the brick wall of the darkened alleyway.
The last remaining air in Draco’s lungs hissed out and he gasped for air much like a fish out of water, his fingers clawing into the brick behind him, cracking his fingernails with the coarseness of the stone as he clung to what seemed the last strings of his life. I’m going to die… faded across his blurry thoughts as blow after blow to his head and face splattered blood against the very fists that delivered them and Draco began to slip in and out of consciousness - lessons learned.