"No." He slipped his hands in his pockets. "The quill was charmed to sign in the holder's blood."

"And when Dolohov's ownership transferred to you," she said, and he shifted. "Was there anything different that happened?"

"No. Same process. I signed the parchment in blood, and the transfer was complete."

His voice was clipped, his jaw tight.

We had a binding agreement, Antonin, she remembered him saying. She chose to drop it for now.

She stared down at her notes, willing some logic to jump out at her.

"Mother tells me you've been reading the papers."

Her fingers stilled. "Yes. Every morning."

The room was quiet.

"Then you read about the executions, I take it?"

She turned to face him. He stared down at the table, eyes glazed. The muscle below his left eye twitched.

She swallowed. "Yes."

She watched his ribs expand slowly. "Skeeter was misinformed. There were only two. The Undersecretary was forced to watch and then taken prisoner." His lips pressed together. "And for what little it's worth, those were the only—" His throat caught on the words, and he fell silent.

"You were in a war-torn country for four months," she said softly. "I hadn't expected you to return a saint—"

He barked out a laugh. "A saint. Was that what I was before, Granger?" His tone was scathing. It set her teeth on edge.

"Listen. I don't like the thought of you killing. Of course it makes me s—upset. But you had no choice." She didn't know what to do with her hands. Her fingers curled and trembled.

"I had to torture them first," he said, as if she hadn't spoken.

She took a deep breath. "Of course. Your aunt was watching, so—"

"No." His voice was cold. "I had to torture them first. My first two attempts at the Killing Curse failed." He ran a sharp hand through his hair. "But after Crucio, it became a bit easier."

Her skin shivered, and she failed to hide it. The black stain sinking into her heart burrowed deeper. He pressed on.

"Bella said it was time for me to prove myself. Said the Dark Lord was anxious to hear about my 'progress.' She wouldn't let me pass it off to her. I tried, but there were others—"

The words vanished, unsaid. His eyes were empty and pale.

She stepped forward, and reached for his pale knuckles on the table. "I know it's not my place, but I… I forgive you, Draco. You should forgive yourself."

He flinched, snatching his arm back. She watched his fingers stretch like he'd been burned.

"No, you don't." He stepped away from her. "That's why they're called Unforgivables, Granger."

"If you hadn't done it, you'd have been killed." She willed her voice to remain calm.

"I watched them cast the spell. The one that killed all those people." His voice was barely above a whisper. "Father advised against it, but Bella made the call when he was gone. I saw them do it, and I did nothing."