"And how much of that did you enjoy, Draco? Did you revel in torturing people? Did you kill indiscriminately out of hatred or disregard for human life? Did you use mind control for your own sick entertainment?" He looked at her, shock, hurt, and anger warring for control of his features, but she ploughed on. "Or were you a child trying to do your best in a horrible situation, forced into a war by the principles of your family? Do you think my hands are clean? I’ve used all those same spells, and you know what I did to my own parents. How is that any less unforgivable? Kingsley Shacklebolt is the bloody Minister for Magic and I’ve seen him slice a person in half with a Diffindo, but that’s somehow not as bad as an instant, painless death with an  Avada?" She knew she was ranting now, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she got more and more worked up, but Draco was being an absolute  idiot. "Do you think, truly, that if you asked for a second chance and proved you would do something with it, that you wouldn’t get one? Do you think I wouldn’t do everything in my power to  ensure  you did?"