The elf stood by Hermione’s bed for a few minutes, thinking of what else to say to Hermione who was laying in her bed for a whole night and a whole day, refusing to get up. All Hermione remembered from the night of the torture after it was over was how someone grabbed her immobilized body, and threw it over their shoulder. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t scream but she knew that the one carrying her was not the High Reeve – this man’s body felt different. Only when he lay her in her bed did she see his face, half of it sheathed in shadows – a face of Blaise Zabini, frowning and serious. He made her drink a vial of sleepless draught that Mipsy had brought, and she saw his lips move but didn’t hear a single word he told her.