He's not even eighteen yet; he can't – can't lose his hand. Crippled, he thinks, crippled and useless and worthless and it's what I deserve. He deserves it for being part of the Death Eaters. Draco deserves it for being weak enough to join them, and deserves it for being weak enough to fail to do what the Dark Lord asked of him. Not good enough to be other than a Death Eater, and yet too conscience-plagued and weak to succeed as one. And for his crimes, Draco is going to have his right hand severed by his own father. As he thinks of his father again with dazed bewilderment, a kick drives into his ribs and he bites back a scream as they snap and splinter.