Emmeline watched him. She envied him, somewhat, his ability to feel what was on his conscience, to allow himself to feel it. To what degree he felt it, she wasn't sure, but it was more than she felt now.
They had reached the time, she supposed, when she could begin to let herself feel - when she could soon break down the dam and let it all flood over her. Not right now, not while she was still on the field of battle. Just because it seemed to be over did not mean that it was. But later, when the reality of the ending sank in, she could give way to make room for the beginning.
"Yes," she said, unsurprised that he understood her motivations for being here near Voldemort's body. "Anyone that might try to bring the bastard back, that is. Did you see who killed him?"
She had seen the curse that had taken him down, thought she had seen a flash of blonde. But in the confusion, with so many bodies moving between her and the incident, she wasn't sure she could entirely trust what she'd seen.
And he could take that question to be about the body in his arms too, if he liked. That wasn't how Emmeline had intended it, but she was open to alternate interpretations.