Draco sighed, staring across the River Dee, back resting against the nubbly tree trunk, legs stretched out in front of him, balancing his booted right heel on top of his left boot's steel cap toe, wand in his left hand – only hand. He noticed Pansy stealing glances at his stump now and then, and he felt self-conscious, wanting to hide it away in the folds of his cloak. The Order didn't even seem to notice it anymore but Pansy had only seen Draco a few times after he'd lost his hand, and the wound had still been swaddled in dirty, bloodstained bandages at the time.