"Hey. Hey, hey, Granger, hush. Hush." Malfoy's other hand comes up to cradle the angles of her face, thumb stroking gently over her tear-damp cheek. "I know. I know that. I didn't mean...I didn't mean to make you feel bad. I just really didn't think you had it in you." His eyes search over hers as his thumb keeps up its steady, gentle stroke. "I'm glad you did. You were convincing and that was what you needed to be." Hermione is silent as she gets a clean, alcohol-soaked cloth ready by her side with one hand, the other still holding his wounded hand. "They'll grow back, Granger." He grins lopsidedly, and despite the awfulness of the situation, a pathetic, teary little giggle fizzes out of her.