The fire crackled softly in the fireplace of the common room, but the warmth did little to ease the tension. You knelt before Draco and carefully wrapped a clean bandage around his arm, your hands shaking slightly.

"Hold still, Draco," you muttered, biting your lip to focus on the task at hand.

He winced dramatically, his face contorting into an exaggerated grimace. "Careful," he groaned, leaning back against the armchair.

"You're such a baby," you huffed, though your heart clenched at the thought of him actually being in p4in. You tightened the bandage a little too quickly.

"Ouch! Merlin's beard, are you trying to saw my arm off?"

Your eyes flicked to his, wide and concerned. "Draco, stop—are you okay? I didn’t mean—" Your voice wavered as guilt began to seep in.

Draco, ever the dramatist, leaned his head back and groaned louder, clutching his arm like he'd been cursed. That was the moment the floodgates opened.

"I—I’m sorry," you whispered, tears welling in your eyes before spilling over. You looked away, dabbing at your eyes with your sleeve. "I didn’t mean to... I was trying to help, but you’re clearly in so much p4in—" Your voice cracked.

Draco froze, the dramatics instantly forgotten as his eyes widened. "Wait. Wait—no, no, stop. Don’t cry." He straightened up, his hand gently reaching out to catch yours before you could turn away completely.

"But I—"

"I was messing with you. I’m fine, I swear," he interrupted, his voice soft, steady, and entirely unlike the whining tone he’d been using seconds ago.

Your tears came faster. "You—what? Draco, I thought I’d actually—"

"I know, I know," he said quickly, squeezing your hand. But look at me. I’m okay." He held up his arm, the neatly wrapped bandage now securely in place. "See? You did perfectly."

Your lip quivered, and you sniffled, shaking your head. "You’re such an id!ot."

"And you’re amazing for putting up with me," he said, grinning now. "Come on, stop crying. You’re making me feel like the worst person in the world."