"The bucket. The damned bucket," he muttered disbelievingly, and shook his head, still clutching his maimed right arm carefully to his chest, tears leaking from his eyes as he chuckled hoarsely. It all seemed just so bitterly, desperately hilarious. It was like the world was out to get him. Finally feeling some paltry happiness – if only in a dream – only to injure himself on the bucket the Order expected him to shit in. Draco’s laughter sputtered into nothingness, pained and humourless smile fading from his lips.