Merlin, what the hell. For a moment Severus freezes, spine straight, but he forces himself to unwind enough to put his other hand on her other shoulder and look down, trying to asses if there really is or isn't any damage on her. "Did anything come near you?" Torn clothes, favored knees-- she seems alright, but it's still nerve-wracking. Severus isn't afraid of her and won't suddenly shove her away if it turns out she's been bitten, but this is beyond serious. The danger of werewolves lights an anxiety in him like very few other things do.

"I bloody told you," he says after, a quiet exhale, relieved she's in one piece. "Darcy. What happened?"