The Boy Who Lived

Tears of Laughter, Tears of Pain

'Hey, where'd you go?' Harry exclaimed. 'Why is it that you constantly surprise me? I expect one response and got completely the opposite...'

'I wasn't very compassionate at school.'

'Forget it. It's not important anymore.'

'But it is,' Draco whispered. 'I ruined everything.'

'What you mean "ruined everything"?'

'Isn't it obvious?' Draco said with a slight curl to his lip.

'No. I see it as you being caught by your father, by expectations, by prejudices of Snape's role he had to perform, of our stupid House system, and potentially the lack of suitable peers around you, not that I want to diss your other friends. What happened to them all, anyway?'

'I don't really know, Harry. Apart from Blaise, I deserted them as much as they abandoned me. I could never trust them enough to explain where I was in sixth and seventh year, which speaks volumes about the depths of our friendships. And the truth is, the situation was reversed too, they felt the same about me. We lived in a world of distrust and the first inkling I had of them hating what the Dark Lord stood for was that moment in the Great Hall when they stepped forward to protect the younger students. Even with Blaise, I realised that too late. Blaise never told me until after the war that he always wanted to go to Muggle Art College, I knew he was very good at drawing and painting. But he, as much as me, couldn't tell anyone where his heart lay. There were so many expectations placed on us all. How to behave, what our careers should be, political alliances through befriending certain families, arranged marriages to make the names stronger and pureblood lines purer and richer. Money... it's so often about money behind that all. The war set us free. You know, Blaise loves life now, what he's doing, where he is. He's at St Martin's in London. It's one of the best, you know. I'm glad we stayed in contact. Pansy... you know her story.' He sighed, 'You know more about Theo than me. I still can't believe he took over Borgin and Burkes but I haven't been near Knockturn Alley in years. Greg, well, you probably know more about him than I do, last I heard he was on the run in Europe.'

'He's in Azkaban,' Harry said quietly. He heaved himself up and moved to sit at the table.

'Where I should be...'

'No. Goyle's case is very different. He pleaded his innocence when he handed himself in. Denied any wrongdoing. He still went to Azkaban for a short stint. But after he was released, he went on to join a cell-group in Southern Spain. He committed several horrific Muggle murders before we caught up with him. He tried to claim he was under an Imperius but didn't have the skill to keep up his lies.'

Draco felt horrified, 'well, I'm glad we didn't stay in contact, but I suppose my clear defection during the final battle meant it couldn't have been otherwise. Harry, you do know, you do understand, I could never have killed another person, I could never raise my wand to do that... it was sixth year when I truly began to see that I wasn't my father and I didn't want to be him either. I still worshipped him but I couldn't do it...'

'I know.' Harry kept carefully arranging the place mats in front of him. Straightening and aligning them so they were placed exactly. Draco wanted to stop him, to hold his hands and stop the incessant need for Harry to keep tidying, straightening, ordering. He noticed it was worse since Harry had come back from Ireland after taking down Justin. He eased off the counter and went to sit on the bench next to the raven-haired man, bringing his mug.

'You sound so sure despite the fact that I cast Unforgiveable Curses on both you and on Madame Rosmerta...'

'And I nearly killed you and I cast an Unforgiveable on Amycus Carrow.'