It's amazing, Luna thinks, how much filth can come off a man who's spent three years in a room about ten times fifteen feet. So far she's had to change the bath water three times and it's still grimy. Draco has not said a word since she got him into the tub, just scrubbed himself with an intense concentration she remembers from their Hogwarts days. As if nothing matters at this time apart from getting clean. Finally, he seems satisfied and climbs out of the tub, unashamed of his nudity. And why should he be ashamed? She's seen all of it before. Not only that, but had it before. Besides, at the present she is more interested in his hair. It has grown surprisingly long in the years he spent incarcerated, falling to just below his shoulders, and the state of it is worse than hers usually is. It obviously has not seen a comb or water for years.
She goes to her task with grim determination, battling the knots and tangles with single minded focus. It must be painful, but he sits still and silent without so much as a wince. The comb loses six teeth, two of them to the same tangle, but she does not stop. Eventually she has to use scissors to get rid of the worst of it. When the last knot has given away and her comb slides easily through his filthy hair, she picks up the scissors again. She cuts an elegant short bob she saw a man in a purple waistcoat have, letting the edge run just below the shell of his ear. It frames his gaunt face in a way that will be most dashing once he has put some weight on, she thinks as she refills the tub and helps him wash it. Oh yes, he's going to be very handsome when she's done with him.