"It wasn’t just a bloody question!" he roared at her suddenly, and Hermione’s heels hit the bottom step and she almost overbalanced as she skittered back. "Asking about that. You should know that’s not just a bloody question. Answering those sorts of questions is opening the door to memories of pain, and helplessness, and, and everything. It’s exposing yourself to the person who asks the question. And you should know that. So fuck you, mudblood," Malfoy ended, face anguished; still as vehement but voice quieter, chest rising and falling hard as he caught his breath, body shaking.