Avoiding Hela's gaze, which she could feel burning into her, Hermione and Draco approached Harry and Ron, who stopped speaking to give them a once over. "Blimey, Hermione. Tell me that's not all yours?" Harry was gaping, open-mouthed, at her face and hair, which had come undone from its bun and was literally dripping blood onto the floor as she stood there. She shook her head. "Not mine. Not all of it, anyway." Grimly, Harry nodded as Ron stepped close to her and started running his wand in sweeping arc across her head and face, siphoning away most of the warm wetness coating her.