“You fucking moron,” he said, glaring at her. “Do you expect Death Eaters to extend the same courtesy to you? If you're injured on the ground, cursing you additionally would be funny.”
“I think it's generally understood that I would be a pretty piss-poor Death Eater,” she snapped.
“Obviously. But I would hope you could be pragmatic enough to duel competently.”
“I can be pragmatic. When it comes down to the line, I don't baulk. But — I can't try to injure you right now.”
She bit her lip and looked away from him.
“You—“ she started, “you've saved several hundred people now. There's a chance no one will ever know. And you were punished for it. So — I'm not going to try to hurt you. Not when you're already injured.”
She stood there awkwardly. He sighed and stared at her. There was cold calculation to his expression as he stood considering her. Then a long silence.
“Did you know,” Draco said in an airy tone after a minute, “that I was there when the Creevey family was dragged out of hiding?”
Hermione couldn't have been more stunned if he'd just stepped up and backhanded her. She looked up at him sharply while he continued.
“Two Muggle-born wizards from the same family. Quite an anomaly. They were considered high priority. The Dark Lord wanted their deaths spectacular.”
“You—,“ Hermione choked. The words died in her throat, swallowed by her rising horror.
“You should have heard how the Muggles screamed. Dear Aunt Bella had such a fondness for the cruciatus. You recall how she drove the Longbottoms insane? She considered the Creeveys her encore performance. The boys tried to bolt. Good little runners. Smart enough to know they couldn't save their parents.”
Hermione felt as though she'd been punched. Repeatedly. She tried to breathe, but her lungs wouldn't function. Her throat felt as though something were closing around it.
Draco continued in a relentless voice, “Of course your Order came eventually, but they were rather late. The father bit through his tongue and drowned in the blood. Bella cut out the mother's womb, just in case the woman was still sane enough to understand what she was being punished for. While they were stringing her organs up around the parlor, I was set to track down the boys. It was easy, since they were blubbering and trying to stay together. Putting them in the countryside miles from another farm was quite an oversight for two wizards who couldn't apparate. Then the littler one stepped in a badger hole and broke his leg. He started crawling through the grass. An easy target for a killing curse. The second person I cursed in the back with it.”
Hermione's wrist snapped forward without thinking as she shot a slicing hex at him. It grazed Malfoy's cheek. He didn't flinch as the blood welled up from the razor fine cut and streamed down his face. He stepped toward her.
“You know…” he said softly, “the killing curse. It takes something out of you. It's not something just anyone can throw around. Not repeatedly. Colin could have kept running. If he had, he might still be alive today. But he stopped. For his dead brother he stopped, ran back, tried to drag the body with him.”
“Did you—,“ Hermione croaked, feeling as though she might die from the horror currently welling up inside her. “Are you—“
Malfoy arched an eyebrow and smirked coldly down at her.
“Are you wanting to know if I'm the one responsible for that nightmare in your head?”
Hermione felt that if she opened her mouth again, she might vomit. Her wand was shaking in her fingers, and she felt torn between a desire to scream and sob. She had never felt capable of crucio'ing someone, but as Malfoy closed in on her, his grey eyes glinting, she was sure she'd mean it.
“No,” he said softly, and Hermione started slightly. “That was Dolohov. He'd just invented it. He came specifically with the hope of testing it that day. But it's difficult to aim. Useless long range. You have to be within a foot of the target. If Colin had just run — he wouldn't have been hit with it.”
Hermione clamped her hands over her mouth and dropped to the floor with a muffled sob.
Malfoy knelt down, forced her chin up, and stared coldly into her eyes.
“That is what Gryffindor sentiment looks like. All those noble ideals of not leaving people behind, not even the dead; of not using the Dark Arts; of not hitting someone because they're already down; of trying to ascribe heroism to people — when you feel like believing in any of that, remember just
He let go of her face and stood.
“If you don't learn to fight now, you will die. The fact you haven't already been killed foraging is from the sheer benevolence of Fate. I'm sure you are too pragmatic to continue relying on such a thing. If you have any sense whatsoever, I'll expect some true resolve from you next week.”
He dropped a roll of parchment beside her and apparated away.