Draco could feel Hermione’s nervousness emanating off her like a physical force as she strode along in front of him in the narrow tunnel, which led from behind Aberforth’s portrait of Ariana all the way to the Room of Requirement. She looked different in the old-fashioned Auror armour, shoulders broader and hips more prominent with the added padding of the charmed leather, booted feet silent as a cat’s on the dirty stone floor. The tail of her braid swished back and forth between her shoulder blades like a metronome in time with her steps, and her wand was held out ahead of her a little, a lumos glowing at the tip.