"Oh Merlin," Hermione mumbled, eyes wide and face pale as she looked around the Great Hall, her eyes taking in every figure that wasn't moving or injured.
There were a lot.
"This is all my fault," Harry muttered beside her, his eyes also taking in the carnage that surrounded them. Friends they'd grown up with at Hogwarts were laying on the ground with sheets being pulled over their bodies.
"Don't speak like that," Hermione reprimanded. "This is as much as your fault as it is mine." She saw the argument on his face and nodded. "Exactly. It isn't my fault, therefore it isn't yours."
"Hermione, these people are fighting because of me," he told her, pleading with her to understand.
"You really think that? Are you stupid? Wake up, Harry! These people live in this world the same as you. Prejudiced, power hungry, murdering maniacs that want to kill and control everyone are as much as a threat to them as they are to you. I don't think Malfoy is fighting for you to live, Harry. He's fighting because this is his life too. I'm fighting because if I don't, I'm the first to die. You're fighting because you want this madness to end and to have a normal life. The Weasley family are fighting for each other. Do not, for one second, think this is all about you. Do you understand me?"
He nodded, no longer bothering to put up a fight. She was right after all.