His eyes still on hers – do it, Granger – as he slowly sinks to his knees in front of her, at her feet, at her mercy. Helpless and vulnerable and exposed, waiting for her to hurt him as he slowly strips off his shirt, and then bows his head until his forehead touches her bare foot. Grovelling in front of her. Hermione stares at Malfoy's lean, mutilated back and thinks about what she is going to have to do if she wants them to live through this, and she has to fight back a surge of nausea, bile caustic in the back of her throat. Her hands tremble and her stomach churns as she stares down at Malfoy, aware of all the eyes upon them, watching.