"Go on then. Get your kicking in," Malfoy says with a calm sort of resignation, and Crabbe growls under his breath and moves forward frighteningly fast for his size, driving one fist rib-crackingly hard into Malfoy's diaphragm. A groaning huff of air is driven out of Malfoy as he bends double and clutches his middle, wheezing helplessly for air that won't come, his face reddening and the cords in his neck standing out as his mouth moves like a fish out of water. Crabbe laughs, and grabs Malfoy by his fringe, hauling him mostly upright before punching him again, in the exact same spot. Malfoy doesn't even have enough breath to make a noise now, and Hermione holds back a whimper, her fingers pressing hard to her lips. She feels like a coward, crouching here unnoticed, but Malfoy had said, and it won't help them for her to be hurt too.