He stared at her for a long moment; she could feel his eyes like lead weights on her for a long moment, even with her own tear-filled eyes mostly glued to the floor. She let her eyelids fall shut, tears beading heavy and wet on her lashes, the silence in her tiny room all-consuming. And then there was a rustle and a whisper of air, and the unexpected feel of crisp cotton around her shoulders and back. Hermione opened her eyes and saw him awkwardly pulling his shirt around her; big enough that even draped clumsily around her shoulders it covered her torso, save a thin strip of creamy pale flesh down the middle of her body, from her neck to her jeans.