They haven't given her anything magical to use. She isn't surprised. She's a mudblood to them, not a witch, or a person. She is sickly glad, because magic can be so much crueller than Muggle means of inflicting pain, and she couldn't handle that. But despite that gladness... No. No, she can't fucking do this. Hermione backs away a step, and then Malfoy's gaze pins her to the spot. She can read the plea in his eyes as surely as if he were speaking the words to her: do it. Do it. 