ferretface_git | Locked to Angua (Dated May 15th)

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.

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"...A rather fresh looking bruise," Angua replied, stepping further into the room, her gaze steady on his face. "My gods, Draco, what happened?"

She took his chin in hand, trying to tilt his face toward hers for a better look.

"I was attacked. Entirely unprovoked," he said, dropping his hands away and letting her look at his ghastly disfigurement all she liked, "It was horrible."

"By who?" Angua asked, wincing at how bad his nose looked. The bruising especially stood out against all that pale skin.

"I don't know her name," he snapped, hissing at the sudden stab of fiery pain along the bridge of his nose. "Horrible, rabid little shrew... Red hair, prematurely graying. Rather unfortunate looking, if you ask me."

Angua tenderly ran a hand through Draco's hair, but she froze when he described the girl in question. She didn't suspect there were many girls on the island with graying red hair.

"Oh dear," she said, looking almost stricken.

"Are you sure it was unprovoked?" Angua asked, coming back to herself. "You didn't say anything to her? Call her something mean?"

"I might've called her a raving lunatic, but only after she hurled a plastic container of severed fingers at my face," he muttered, arching a brow. He tried to ignore that her hand in his hair felt almost nice.

This was sounding worse and worse. Angua's hand fell back to her side. "Severed fingers? Whose fingers were they?"

"How should I know? We didn't exactly sit down to have a chat. She just kept screaming," he said, bruised face pinching up with indignant confusion, "What does it even matter? The important thing is, I could've been killed!"

"Not here," Angua murmured, looking worried. She tried to hold it in, but she was caught off guard. She knew Ginger was troubled, she just hadn't known to what extent. Had the fingers been from home, or the island?

"I need to find her. Do you know where she went...I mean, you didn't hurt her, did you?"

"Did I hurt her," he squawked, visibly appalled, "What's the matter with you, woman? Have you heard a word I've said?"

"Don't call me woman," Angua snapped, though without much emotion. "And yes, I've heard you. But you're fine, and Ginger might not be!"

"Oh, she's perfectly alright. Some... hairless ape with more muscles than brains swept her off with nothin' more than a pat on the head," he muttered, scowling to possibly hide that little bit of hurt at not getting the gushing sympathy he clearly wanted.

"You know that girl?"

That made Angua feel a little better, but she knew she wouldn't be able to relax about it until she was able to talk to Ginger.

"Yes...we have a few things in common," she sighed.

"Oh, how very lucky for you," he sneered, taking a step back and returning to the careful inspection of his ruined face.

"Oh, you're going to live, Draco," Angua said, a little exasperated. She gently touched his cheek once more. "If it worries you so much, come with me and I'll get you some ice."

"I've already iced it," he sighed, somehow resisting the urge to bat her hand away, "What did mean, you have things in common?"

Angua was reluctant to answer, and if Ginger hadn't been so open about being a werewolf she would have avoided the question with some clever wording. But Angua was tired of lying, and most people here didn't seem to give a damn when she told them anyway.

"Do you have werewolves, where you come from?" she asked, knowing from Dean that the Roundworld did, but that not everyone was aware they existed. But Draco knew wizards, was a wizard, so it was very likely he knew of them at least.

"Unfortunately," he muttered, lips twisting in visible disgust, "For now."

He didn't even delve deeper into what that question might mean. Draco wasn't always one to look beyond the surface of things.

Well that sounded promising. Yet, Draco's tone only made her want to tell him more. Just let him try to be nasty about it to her.

"Good, then there's less to explain. Because Ginger and I are werewolves. Different kinds, but it's the same general concept," she said dryly.

Draco stared. And stared. And then stared some more, finally bursting out in a rare belly-laugh. "You're joking."

Angua's lip threatened to curl at the side, and if they could, her ears would be flattened back.

"I'm not," she replied, her voice flat. "What do you think I have a wolf for?"

"I have a snake, what the bloody hell does that have to do with anything?" he snapped, "It's not exactly proof of being a half-breed."

"I don't know, what sort of a man has a giant snake for a pet?" Angua snapped back.

Half-breed, that was new. Undead she had expected, but not this. "I'm not half anything. I was born a werewolf. I'm not part human, part wolf. I'm a werewolf, there's a difference."

"The most powerful wizard in the civilized world, that's who," he said, arching a brow and folding his arms across his chest, chin jutting out smugly, "Does it make you feel better, thinking that way?"

Angua barked out a laugh, completely without humor. "Oh, I'm perfectly happy being a werewolf. Do you honestly think I sit around wishing I was a wizard, or a human?"*

* Ignoring the fact that she was human now, technically.

"Well, I certainly can't blame you for your blind ignorance."

Only he could, and was. But for whatever reason, he felt something unfamiliar twist faintly in his gut along with the words. Strange... perhaps he'd eaten some spoiled fish.

Angua braced her hand on the counter next to where Draco was standing, and leaned very close to him.

"Please, since I'm so ignorant, can you tell me what it is exactly I don't know?"

"That there's a growing number of voices calling for the marking and extermination of your kind," he said, gritting his teeth and drawing away from her visibly. "Or at least the... removal of your various freedoms."

Angua moved closer as he drew away, her body going tense, but her smile growing into a manic, dangerous looking thing.

"Is that so?" she asked, backing him toward a corner like she would a rabbit. Nice snacks, rabbits. "Would you like to mark me for extermination, Draco? I'm right here."

"I'm more concerned with the other one. I certainly don't think the innocent public should be... exposed to her instability," he said, lips curling even as he felt his heart begin to hammer in his chest.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from her," Angua threatened, coming very close to growling. She doubted Draco would try anything, but she wanted to be sure with all his talk of extermination.

"I can promise you, she's the last person on this island I want to be anywhere near," he said, pushing past her finally and stalking toward the door.

"And me too, now, is that it?" Angua asked, her voice and gaze hard as she watched him retreat.

"Honestly, I don't really care what you do at the moment," he said, the words spilling out without thought. They were practiced... all of it, words and judgments ingrained within him over a lifetime. For a moment, no more than a second or two, he felt something he'd rarely felt in his life.

It was guilt.

But it was there and gone, and he pushed open the door, chin held high and alone again.

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Locked to Angua (Dated May 15th)

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