She stared at it for a moment, the undeniable proof of her half-baked suspicions on front of her and her stomach sank like a stone and for a wild moment, she wanted to run, run away and never look back, because this was bigger then she was, bigger then anything she'd ever said or did, or wanted. She shuddered, once, hard, to rid herself of the impulse and then she looked up at him, into his grey eyes for a long moment.
She was a creature of impulses, and they weren't always the right ones, but so far, they had stood her in good stead. She reached out then, and her fingers slid, slowly, over his arm, around the mark, but not quite touching it. Not that she wouldn't, she just wasn't sure how they worked and she didn't want to hurt him. Her fingers slid down to his hand and twined her fingers with his, squeezing and then she leaned up suddenly and kissed him, boldly and not quite as chastely as she probably should have. When she pulled back, it was only enough so she could see his expression. "I'm so sorry, Draco. Does it hurt?"
That was all. Did it hurt. Not, what sort of monster was he, or what had he been thinking, or was he going to go on a wild bender and kill her now. She just wanted to know if he was in pain.