I shut my eyes, letting out my breath in a sigh. I knew if I just looked at Hermione, saw the warmth in her eyes, I would break and everything I'd been keeping locked up inside me for the past months would spill out. All the anger, all the sorrow, all the guilt, and more than that, the fear... The fear that if Hermione heard the Prophecy and realized that I was destined to become a murderer, no different than Voldemort, she would draw away, learn to fear me and finally to hate me... She was so kind, cared so much for other people- how could she possibly still be friends with a murderer? And I cringed, part of my spirit cowering at the thought of losing Hermione.
I remembered again the horror I'd felt in the Ministry of Magic, how my heart had stopped beating for a moment. Then, I'd thought I'd lost her to Antonin Dolohov's curse and I couldn't bear the idea that if it hadn't been for me, she would be safe. But to lose her for something I had actually done, to see her and know that somewhere she was alive and hating me- that I knew I couldn't bear. It would kill me.
And so I shut my eyes, keeping my face turned away from her. I knew that my silence would hurt her and I hated knowing it, but what else could I do?