Malfoy's words rang in her head; he tore off my fingers, and she thought, that was because of me. That was my fault. The hand might not have been, but his fingers had. She felt ill again. Hermione might despise Malfoy, but she wouldn't wish that on her worst enemy. She might have at one point – she had, in fact, and now she was ashamed of doing so – but that had been before she had seen the horrible reality. Malfoy looked up and saw her there, blatantly staring, and too late she whipped her head back with a gasp, but not before seeing the shame and self-loathing on his face.