"Yeah. It was...bad," he tells her, drained of feeling and looking shell-shocked. "Really fucking bad." He sighs, still slumped against the door as if he hasn't the strength to move, watching her as she gets up from the armchair and moves to stand in front of him, hovering awkwardly. Malfoy is clearly curious; she hasn't done this before. She always avoids him when his clothing smells of suffering and death, instead of the usual, indefinable scent that is him. "Granger?"