"Don't," he tells her fiercely as he looks at her finally, but just her face, his gaze boring pale and sharp into hers. "Don't, Granger... I – don't do this...this...whatever the fuck it is. Please. It's not going to help anything. It's not..." He grabs the tee-shirt up off the bed, and very gently but firmly tugs it on over Hermione's head, nudging her shoulder with one hand and raising an eyebrow, encouraging her to put it the rest of the way on. She just stands there blinking, feeling so much that it overwhelms her; in shock and concussed and hurting, half catatonic. Malfoy helps her, like he is dressing a child, his jaw ratcheted tight and his eyes never lingering on anything but her face. And she lets him, his hands so gentle and his eyes so terribly sad, and she feels the tears rise and rise inside her chest.