"I’m not a shallow person. And I’m offended you’d think I was," Hermione mumbled at last, toeing the line of admitting to feeling that indefinable something, her eyes flicking to his, searching out the tell-tale signs of fear and vulnerability hidden imperfectly behind his façade. "Things like that don’t matter to me in the slightest. You could lose both legs, and I still wouldn’t think you were, ah, unattractive. I’m not shallow." She nibbled on the end of her tongue and her eyes dropped to the bed.