Their eyes locked, both of them refusing to look away and admit defeat. Grey irises in bloodshot corneas, a starburst of that bright, silvery palest grey haloed around dilated pupils, all of it set in bruised, hollow sockets. Hermione's arms slipped from their defensive lock across her chest, and her right hand twitched, fingers flexing, itching to reach out and trace the lines of his thin face. Her hand lifted, and with her heart beating like a terrified rabbit's, she reached out.