"Well. Let’s go then," she said and walked back to where he stood like a pale statue. Slipped her hand into his left and only and tugged at him. Draco’s fingers spasmed and clamped down on hers so hard it hurt just the tiniest bit, and all of a sudden Hermione realised what was wrong. Draco was more than nervous – he was scared. Down in the cellar he might have been trapped and lonely, bored and sick of the same four walls closing in around him, but he was also protected from the hatred and contempt of the Order. No, Hermione corrected herself reluctantly, not "the Order’, but Ron, Harry, Ginny, and all the others who had been subject to his arrogant, bigoted behaviour back at school.