"I will," he retorted and then grinned at her in the mirror, lopsided and careless, and gave up on his hair – mostly restored to order, but with a few strands flopping forward at his temples, and Hermione thought absently, that it actually looked rather nice. "Now," he continued briskly, adjusting the vambrace on his maimed arm, wincing as it dug into his stump. He struggled with it one-handed, and swore under his breath, before continuing. "Tell me that everything is going to go wonderfully, with that irritatingly optimistic smile of yours, Hermione, so that I can go back to being pessimistic before the cheerfulness kills me."