"Get them upstairs," Professor McGonagall's voice rang sharply through the room, shrill and worried. "Madeleine will be here any moment to treat them – quickly, come on," she ordered briskly, and then Draco had to follow with the Weasley twins or be dragged along bodily, half staggering, half being hauled up the stairs like a sack of potatoes. They helped him through into the makeshift infirmary and flopped him as gently as possible down on a bed, taking the gun carefully when he mumbled something about it. They set about scourgifying him so that he was clean and dry if still feeling bone cold – they hadn't thought to cast warming charms on their way out of the base and he was freezing, despite the blankets they laid over him. He lay there, rolling his head to the side and watching as Potter helped lie Hermione down on the bed next to his, scourgifying her and drawing a blanket up over her.