No-no-no-no. He couldn't, Hermione thought wildly, her fingers digging into his hand and his shoulder, her face stark and her chest feeling tight and leaden. He couldn't do this to her. Draco cleared his throat and tried again, a pained expression on his face that he wasn't even trying to hide; bare and open and vulnerable, and Hermione wanted to scream at him and flail blindly. He gulped in a deep breath, his eyes silver and grey on hers, storm clouds and stone and ice and quicksilver, and it rushed out of him, guilty and ashamed and afraid.