"Thanks," Hermione said trying not to let her voice shake but Draco knew her, and he knew how scared she was right now. He gulped hard himself, throat clicking dryly, grey eyes slipping away from hers and she knew then that he was afraid too. She wondered if he was afraid for her, or himself, or both of them. She suspected any fear that Draco had was for her, not himself. Hermione's safety appeared to be one of the few areas of Draco's life where he allowed his facade – or reality, more likely – of selfishness to slip away. She stood watching the sharp lines of his face all set grim and expressionless, neither of them saying a word as he tested the fit of her leathers, making sure everything was secured properly with nervous, worried little movements.