She thought of carotid arteries, of the amount of blood in the human body, and how much it could lose before a blood-replenishing potion was useless. She thought of what was in her belt pouch – essence of dittany and that it wasn't going to be enough for an artery. Not for a wide-open gash pumping out blood in time with his heartbeats. He was going to die. Draco was going to bleed out in front of her, and – and he'd probably be happy because at least he wouldn't have to go to Azkaban.