She slams both her fists into his chest, and Malfoy rocks on his feet, stumbling back into the door with a pained grunt – but still he does nothing to stop her, nothing to protect himself. Hermione stares up into his bloodied face, wanting to hiss expressions of hatred and loathing at him, wanting to so badly to blame him, to fling all her pain and hatred and rage at him. But the words die on her tongue, and her anger toward him withers to a hollow emptiness in a moment. Malfoy's eyes are bleak. She lets her fists fall limply to her sides and sucks in a breath, looking away from him because it hurts to see that he hurts too. She doesn't want to see that.