Hermione watched from her relative safety behind the heavy wood coffee table as the boy sobbed over his dying...what? Girlfriend? Sister? Friend? And then Draco stepped into her field of vision, wand held out and white-blond head stark in the flashing lights. He was tall and lean and glorious in his archaic Auror leathers, blood-spattered like a knife blade and just as sharp and merciless. Hermione stared at him, any thought of her defence or offence obliterated from her mind as Draco looked down on the weeping boy clutching desperately at the blood-soaked girl, and said, "Avada kedavra."