"God," Hermione choked and they ran on, catching up to the rest of the team, Draco silent at her left side and Ron’s blood-wet hand clutching hers tightly. Hermione’s mind was a blurred jumble of the battle that had just taken place. Everything had been so chaotic that she could recall it only as flashes and snippets of gore and horror and screaming. She wanted not to think about it, but as her feet trod on stone, and then trampled grass beneath them as they ran toward Hagrid’s, it was all she could think about. The way Amycus had exploded. Nott Senior on fire. And the hate and grief in Draco’s voice as he had screamed the Killing Curse at Blaise Zabini.