He chuckles, almost losing the edge to the sound by the time they're before the guardians. Then he's easy smiles, and the fluttering of lashes down, letting Hermione hang herself in the moment of panic only to say:

"Such is our penance in devotion at the feet of the Chained One, that love is chaos, and chaos is love, beating with our hearts, in our blood." Pretty nonsense, but the way he says it, the downcast glance as if shy, before he drags his eyes up, holds the guardian priest's eyes with his own, letting his own desire to not be here shine through with a desperation that has them waved through with a murmur of acceptance and their promise to pay proper homage in their pilgrimage, as the others do.

Shuffled off to a door that he near balks at, for the way it feels worse, almost a force to walk against, a current in a river they didn't know they waded. Hermione might feel him attempting to turn away, then turning back, grimace impossible to hide from her, hidden from those behind them by the fixed nature of his staring down through the open archway.

"Do we have to?"