Draco sighed before gently closing the dead man's eyes, doing what small thing he could to let the man look at some sort of peace. He was impressed with how Rose had joined him in diffusing the Dark Mark, the mockery in the sky.
There was no point in pretending that the situation was any better than it was. Rose was of age and old enough to get the full truth.
"She won't believe it," he commented. "At least not at first. The idea of Voldemort ever being defeated is something she will never be able to comprehend," he looked at her unflinchingly. "Bellatrix died before Voldemort did, she never saw him defeated. Even after the first war, she was in Azkaban, always clinging onto the belief that he would rise again, one that turned out to be right."
He hesitated before standing up and away from the body. There was nothing more that could be done for him now, he needed to be left for his family to find.
"She'll want to kill everyone she hates. Unfortunately she hates everyone. You're right," he frowned. "Everyone is in danger."