Draco pushed his broom as fast as it would go. The cold wind bit into his face and through his woollen winter cloak and myriad warming charms, and still he kept going. His eyes teared up so much he could barely see and he had lost all feeling in his fingers but he couldn't stop. Not when stopping meant thinking about one of the worst nights of his life. Not when stopping meant going back to the top of the Astronomy Tower and seeing Dumbledore fall. He flew circles around the Quidditch pitch until dusk made it impossible to distinguish the stands. Except… Except there was a light on one of them. He flew towards it, curious, happy to be distracted by whatever he would find, until he saw it was Hermione, sitting on one of the hard, snow-covered benches with a ball of light hovering above her.

He wanted to turn away but she called out to him. They were on the kind of footing now where he'd feel bad about being rude to her, so he landed carefully next to her and fell down onto the bench, not quite as elegantly as he'd have liked. His whole body was frozen.

"I'm sorry I upset you this morning."

Draco shrugged. How could he say it didn't matter when it did? He knew he'd dream of that terrible night when he closed his eyes. He knew he'd never escape that burden.

"I just… Will you tell me why it upsets you so much that I mentioned Dumbledore?"

He took a deep, shuddering breath and rubbed his hands together in an effort to make them thaw. She cast a warming charm on him without even asking, and for the first time since that morning he felt warm again. His fingers and toes tingled painfully, but her magic was soothing, like a hug after a nightmare. Maybe that was why he told her the truth.

"I had to kill him. The Dark Lord… He told me to kill Dumbledore or he'd kill my mother and me."

"I know."

His head snapped up, his incredulous eyes devouring the compassion and understanding on her face.

"You can't know… You can't know what it was like. I had to kill him and I couldn't. And then, that night… I was there, Hermione. I disarmed him. I couldn't kill him but I left him defenseless and then Severus had to…" He stopped and huddled into himself, the memory of Dumbledore begging, then falling over the edge of the Astronomy Tower too much to bear.

She moved to sit next to him and pulled him into an embrace.

"I should have done something," Draco murmured, not quite sure why his mouth wouldn't stop babbling. "I should have stopped Severus. I should have accepted his help. I should…"

"Draco, there was nothing you could do to save him," Hermione interrupted.

"But there was… I…"

"No. He was cursed. He was dying anyway."

Draco sat up straight and stared at her incredulously. "What?"

"I thought you knew, Draco. He was cursed. He had asked Snape to kill him. He knew all along you were assigned to kill him but he made Snape promise that he would do it instead. He was already weakened by the curse, and then by a poisonous potion he'd had to take that same evening… He would have died at Snape's hand, no matter what you did, Draco."

Draco didn't notice her arms were still around him. He looked dazed. "He knew?" he repeated, his voice detached. "It wasn't my fault?"

Hermione hesitated only for a moment. She thought of how Dumbledore had played with all their lives and tried to pull strings and steer their actions in the War.

"No. It wasn't your fault."

He began to cry.