The needles. Nasty little trick, wasn't it? Most of the little bastards had gotten caught in his cloak as he dodged out of the way, preferring to dart in and out of range before they could strike. But Hermione didn't have that mobility to hand, and barely wore any armor at all.

"Well I'm not currently leaking out of several holes in my body that weren't there when I woke up, so I'm going to say I managed just fine." His grip on her tightened slightly, prepared to sweep her up should her knees should any signs of buckling. But for now? She'd have the dignity of walking on her own two feet, somewhere where they could get a better look at the damage.

And of course, the scent lingers in his senses, coaxing. Alluring. Studiously ignored, even now. What? He can have self-control, when he felt like it.