The floor under Hermione's knees is hard, and the air around her is hot, scented heavily, and stiflingly close; all wrong, wrong. She wants to go mad – to scream and sob and rip her own hair out. Only Malfoy's presence, standing beside her, is helping her stay in control of herself. And from the looks he keeps flashing her that she catches sight of out of the corner of her eye, he seems to feel much the same way about her. When his hand curls in her hair almost comfortingly – but clearly meant to show he still feels superior and is not a Muggle lover – it actually makes her feel safe. That is how terrified she is, right now. He is her only hope at protection, now that Voldemort has waved aside her usefulness as a hostage, or bait – quite cavalierly, she thinks, ridiculously almost insulted that she is not important enough to merit a special status as prisoner.