Draco made himself stand, mentally shoving any pain or discomfort to the back of his mind. It was a talent he had, compartmentalizing his emotions. It had allowed him to become a skilled Occlumens. It had allowed him to survive a year with Death Eaters.
"Then we'll find him," his voice was a touch raspy as he calmly stated the fact as if there was no room for discussion. He didn't tell her that she'd done the right thing. She had, but she didn't need to hear him say those words. He'd killed before, no one was under any delusions about that. But briefly he wondered if she'd ever cast that curse before. He also offered her no false comfort. A couple of days ago he might have attempted it, but losing Pansy had brought much of the harshness of the war back to him. Ginny had lost her son. There was no comforting for that.
He cast a dismissive gaze over Bellatrix's body. "Leave her. The demons can have her if they want." He looked back to Ginny, meeting her eyes unflinchingly. "Lets go."