Granger had gone out after breakfast.  She already looked better.  Barely a week in his presence and the bags under her eyes had gone from black caverns to the faintest of smudges.  Her skin didn't seem as grey, and she'd mustered the energy to put at least a little effort into controlling her curls.  She'd never be a beauty but she no longer reminded him of a patient freshly released from St. Mungo's.   And all this had happened without so much as a touch to her hand since her confession to Blaise.  All she needed was his presence.