"Are you all right? Did they hurt you?" She shakes her head no, squinting against the bright light as she stares at Malfoy. He is dishevelled, in shirt sleeves and trousers, his hair mussed, and the right side of his mouth is swollen fat and red raw. She looks around, trying to get her bearings; they are in a small bedroom that looks like servant quarters from the plain walls and lack of any furniture bar a narrow bed and a battered looking chest of drawers.