Hermione saw him again, the dark-cloaked figure following her, the gray fog masking the sound of their footsteps.
She had been afraid the first time she realized that she was being followed, ducking into the nearest shop, cautiously peering out the window.
She was no longer afraid of her recurring shadow. She had been aware of him for months now. There was something familiar about his long strides and rippling cloak. But, even still, she changed her plans whenever she felt the familiar tingle along her spine of being watched. She did not want to chance leading anyone to Harry.