"No, I’m fine, thank you." Hermione struggled out of the ruined armour jacket, the bracers and rerebraces and spaulders, and then sat patiently on the bed while the Healer tended to her back and other injuries, muttering lilting spells and smearing on various sweet smelling potions. Hermione could hear Draco wincing as his Healer did something – what, she didn’t know; the stupid curtain was in the way. It would have been relaxing, the gentle care with which her wounds were being treated, except Hermione couldn’t stop worrying about Draco.