Malfoy thought Harry was attacking him.
What the — he gasped, careening out of Harry's way.
Harry took his remaining hand off his broom and made a wild snatch;
he felt his fingers close on the cold Snitch but was now only gripping the broom with his legs,
and there was a yell from the crowd below as he headed straight for the ground, trying hard not to pass out.
With a splattering thud he hit the mud and rolled off his broom.
His arm was hanging at a very strange angle; riddled with pain, he heard, as though from a distance, a good deal of whistling and shouting.
He focused on the Snitch clutched in his good hand.
Aha, he said vaguely. We've won. And he fainted.