But his hands shivered, and told her a very different story ... in the way his skin crept, and darted from balmy hot to the very, very cold. He was so in need, wherever he was. Hermione was mindless to help, but she might as well have been a million miles away, rather than sat in this chair clutching Harry's trembling fingers between her own, for all the use she felt to him. All she could do was smooth his skin and whisper gently to him, unsure if he could hear her or not, unsure if it was doing any good.