There was a small hot place in his chest lately, which burnt until it hurt whenever he thought of Hermione. He thought maybe it had smouldered to life way back at the Manor, when Aunt Bella had been torturing her and he had let her go. Or maybe it had been later, when Draco had arrived at Godric’s Hollow and he had told her about Nagini and his fingers, and she had almost whimpered his name, horror for what he had been through written on her face. Either way, right now it was a searing coin laid over his heart and burning its way right through the middle of him.