He didn't know what to say to the wretched despair in that so he didn't say anything, just held her tight against him as she rambled, getting more and more incoherent. About his father, and the baby-that-never-was, and how nice Mrs Weasley was, and how Lupin had been so kind, and how she wished none of this had ever happened, and that it could be just a nightmare and she'd wake up in the girls" dorms and everything would be okay. It hurt to listen to, as she poured out her pain in dribs and drabbles of slurring, rambling phrases.