Hermione’s free hand touched the hand that held her wrist, gripping it gently in a friendly way as she nodded her head at him once. She wasn’t sure how to tell him that she would have gone with the Order in the blink of an eye, how she had the countercurse potion on her person, how she could have easily let them beat him down long enough to escape with the Order, but somehow she was too torn to do so. Her heart, thanks to the damned locket, was Voldemort’s now. As was her soul. Darkness clouded her, and would continue to do so even after the locket would be off of her. It was the kind of darkness that Hermione knew, if it came down to it, the Order wouldn’t even trust her.