A loud slam against his cell door had Draco Malfoy jumping up, worried that the guards were about to come in and use their wands on him again. For not being "dark wizards," the guards were brutal bastards, although it wasn’t as though he could do much about it. He walked to the rear wall and put his hands on top of his head, expecting them to pull open the door and lay into him. At least he would not give them any justification for extra brutality. It was just one more indignity on top of the lack of decent food, the inability to wash or brush his teeth or hair. He was a disgusting, bruised mess on his best day in Azkaban.