Locked to Angua (Dated May 15th)
He'd never been so humiliated in all his life.
It had been a rather high bar to clear, but being reduced to a sobbing, begging mess at the hands of a girl half his size had done a nice job of setting its own record. She was clearly out of her mind, and he could only imagine what might have become of him, had he been someplace less inhabited. He shuddered to think, really.
He'd been told by the imbecile Muggle doctor on duty that his nose was just fine, but he didn't trust their expertise any more than Longbottom's potions skills, and he stood there now in front of the bathroom mirror, prodding at his bruised face and scowling back at himself. Nagini had taken to following him again, and she lay coiled on the cool tiles, tongue flicking and her glass eyes staring back at him. Mocking him.
"What are you looking at?" he muttered, tenderly probing the cut on his cheek and sniffling back tears. He was seventeen years old and he'd had a backstage pass to one of the greatest Wizarding Wars the world had ever seen, and here he stood, trying not to cry over a few nicks and scratches.
He was a Malfoy, for hell's sake. Father would be so disappointed.