"Fuck off," Draco tried to say, but it came out as more of an unintelligible mumble. He forced himself to try to breathe naturally rather than gulping down air, which always made it worse despite his instincts, and wiped angrily at his eyes with the offered handkerchief. First Longbottom, now Weasley. If they would stop popping up where they were least expected, this sort of thing wouldn't keep happening, he thought, resorting to the ancient tradition of blaming other people, until he became painfully aware of what he was doing. He found a handy wall and leaned against it while the panic in his chest subsided. "I'm hardly doing it on purpose," he managed eventually, not quite daring to meet Ron's eyes. "Anyone would think this was actually fun for me."