"Malfoy. What happened?" She is clear and firm, like a teacher talking to a rather dim pre-schooler. He blinks and staggers back a step unsteadily, hand grabbing not at her now, but one of the bed posts, fingers clenching white-knuckled around it as he wrenches in wobbling gusts of air. He looks gone behind the eyes; glazed and stunned, and she is overflowing with a sharp, bubbling worry.