"They would have recognized him, Hermione.  She was trying to protect him."  He sighed.  "I hated to do it, but there was so little I could do to protect any of you in that chaos, and not knowing which Harry any of you were-" he walked to the window and looked out, and there was something so forlorn about what she sensed, as though he feared she would hate him.  His shoulders were slumped, and she went to him, wrapping her arms around his waist.  He turned to her, drawing her into his arms, and she rested her head on his chest.