Hermione flinched as the green light hit point blank and the boy slumped limp over the body of the dead girl he had obviously loved. She looked away, tears standing in her eyes and chest aching with horror and grief. She couldn't stand it. The boy had been defenceless. And without a single pause, without the slightest hesitation, Draco had coolly summoned up the resolve and hatred needed for the Killing Curse. She sank her teeth into her tongue and tried to use the pain to focus her, to stop her from falling into hysterical tears behind the coffee table. Draco had killed the boy, his face as pale and cold as marble, the avada uttered with low vehemence in a voice that betrayed no doubt, no horror, just distaste.