"No. I didn’t. He – he let me disarm him. Oh I thought I was so fucking clever at the time, beating Dumbledore. And then when it came down to it...he was so old and tired, and so fucking kind, and I...I couldn’t do it." Draco buried his face in the palm of his hand, and the last words came out muffled. He had never told anyone this before. "It started then. I was young, and I was stupid, and like you said, father...father raised me to hate. I was eager to join the ranks of the Death Eaters. Scared, but I wanted to." He looked up. "But then I realised I’d gotten in over my head. I was drowning, and there was no one to pull me out, so I just...held my breath."