"It's healing," Hermione tells him helplessly, shrugging and wishing that there was more she could do for him than keeping the wounds clean and covered. "No sign of infection, so far, and it's all scabbing over well. It'll take some time before they stop causing you pain though, I'm afraid. I'll have to keep using numbing charms, but the bandages likely will be able to come off soon. We need to let the wounds breathe eventually." Hermione skims a finger feather-light down a thick ridge of heavy scabbing, and Malfoy doesn't even seem to feel it. She can relate; she can't seem to feel anything either. She sits silent behind Malfoy, waiting uncertain and purposeless, her hands feeling empty, refusing to let herself dwell on the horror that looms ahead of her.