"Of course," she echoes him numbly. But... "You've come up with a cover story, then?" Malfoy nods, swaying back a step and scrubbing at his forehead with the heel of his hand. He looks permanently exhausted past all endurance since the news that Voldemort was leaving; an ashy undertone to his skin, and purple shadows sweeping deep beneath his eyes. The scar of the whip lash on his cheek stands out livid purple-red, and he's all skin and bones. It hurts to look at him.