When Malfoy's bandages come off one evening she cries over his back, horribly scarred and rough now, never to be as it was before, and it seems too much an analogy for herself. For what this captivity has stripped away from her. And Malfoy just smiles and pats her hand, shrugging off her sympathy, seeming uninterested in seeing how bad the damage to his back is. Minimising it. Dismissing it. "It doesn't matter," he tells her after she's finished unwrapping the horror of his back. "It was worth it. I was glad. It – it kept you safe for a little longer."