Malfoy edges carefully closer to her and reaches out as if she is a wild animal he is approaching. Hermione feels she should say something but doesn't know what as he gently snugs her fingers in his grip, to lead her with him. Her skin crawls all over at the touch, but she pads alongside him numbly and tells herself over and over that he is not the enemy. Malfoy is not the one to blame. Not really. The enemy is Voldemort, the one who forced them to...who made Malfoy do it...and Malfoy didn't want to either, and he was a victim too, wasn't he? – and... Hermione doesn't even know. How is she supposed to handle this? How is she supposed to...? A sob hitches out of her throat, and Malfoy's eyes turn down to her, worried.