"I was with him," Draco says, and he’s not crying, either. "We were best fucking friends, father, and I don’t even know how, because war doesn't exactly breed love." He stablihes himself, and takes a deep, shuddering breath and repeats, "I was with him, when he died, and I wish I’d with him then too. I'm the one that did bad things, not him. I let the Death-Eaters into the castle and I practically killed Dumbledore, but I'm the one that got to live. I have friends father, fucking friends. And Blaise is dead. I'm the one that deserves it."