"Granger. Granger, fucking shit, what – what the fuck. Are you – did they...tell me what I need to fix. Tell me." Malfoy is frantic with his worry for her, one hand finding and holding hers very gently, the other hand tapping his wand to her more obvious wounds, sending numbness seeping welcome through them. "Did - did they – is there anything – severe?" he asks, and when she shakes her head weakly – she doesn't think there is, save a concussion – Malfoy drops his wand to the floor with a clatter, and traces his fingers softly from her temple to her chin. "Fuck, what did they do to you?" The hand that is curled carefully around hers tightens a little, his thumb rubbing back and forth over her palm as he kneels beside her, fingers petting softly over her hair in soothing reassurance. "Merlin, Granger, I'm so sorry I didn't get here sooner. I'm so sorry."