"Malfoy!" She is loud this time, and pats his upper arm hard, figuratively crossing her fingers and desperately hoping he won't react badly. His eyes are screwed tightly shut, and his face is scrunched with pain and distress as he makes frightened, awful whimpers, and pained groans, crying out now and then. He speaks sometimes during his nightmares, usually pleading –'please don't make me, please, don't" – with a miserable despair that's heart-breaking. Tonight whatever words he says are indecipherable mumbles, but the distress on his face is clear enough. It's bad.