She asks. Malfoid pulls both of them outward at once and holds them, and Mione's mouth comes open and her hands grab the sheet.

MioneThat is — do not let go. Do not let go of them.

She is not crying any more and she is not being good about it either, and it is the first honest thing she has said all night.

MalfoidThere she is. Four years and there she is.