So she bows her head and shuts her eyes, holding her hands in fists at her sides as Malfoy screams and writhes and gasps beside her. She feels like the worst kind of person to let it go on without speaking up, but there is nothing she can do. Tears paint her cheeks, and she bites her tongue so hard that it fills her mouth with coppery blood-tainted saliva. And Malfoy screams, crumpled on his face in the blood, his body wrenched in a rictus of agony that goes on and on. Hermione finds herself wishing Malfoy's parents were present – perhaps they would step forward and try to help their son – but they are not, and Malfoy is alone.