Harry grieved for every life lost during the Battle of Hogwarts, and he was welcome in every family circle to join his grief with theirs. And even though he would like to consider his duties as The Chosen One over, he knew he wasn't that kind of man: the one who could cause devastation and then leave afterwards, knowing it had all served 'the greater good'.
Ron and Hermione were with the rest of the Weasleys. Harry and Hermione might have both been part of the family in some part before tonight, but Harry knew that Hermione joining them on a night like this meant that she was locking herself in with them. Harry was tempted to do the same, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Though he hugged Ginny, he found himself counting in his head to make sure that he hugged Mrs Weasley and Fleur for the same amount of time. He comforted her as much as everyone else, but he moved on to the next family before he could lead her on too much.
He might still love her, but he was people-weary. It was rare when it was easier to be The Chosen One than Harry, but tonight he clung to that mask.
When he felt he had done enough, Harry retreated to Dumbledore's grave. He might be able to talk with his portrait now, but what Harry really wanted was to be able to sit still and not be interrupted. Hagrid was already there, but he seemed to have fallen asleep, leaning against Grawp, whose gentle snores filled the area. Harry checked to make sure both were breathing, before sitting down on the dew soaked grass.
Dirt from the ground rose gracefully into the air and turned into a large glass bowl at Harry's feet. Harry turned and smiled, expecting to see Hermione, but it was Draco.
"I need to talk to you," he said.
Harry nodded, and Draco sat down and conjured green flames into the bowl.
There was silence as both of them waited for the other to talk. Harry didn't mind sitting quietly with Draco. All the fear and hatred he used to have for him had disappeared. Harry thought that his understanding killed things like fear and hatred.
"My mother told me what happened. So you know she saved you- I don't mean it like that- I don't know how to say this without sounding like I'm being demanding-"
"Draco, there isn't a soul in this castle that's at their best. We're all knackered. Just speak plainly."
"I just came up from the dungeons. All the Slytherins are locked up. I might have been able to free them, but I didn't want them to be attacked if someone saw them."
Harry frowned. He'd forgotten about them.
"Are they OK, did you get them food?"
"Kreacher - that house-elf that used to live with you sometimes - he had already organised it."
"Regulus would be proud," Harry said.
"Fine, sure, he went above and beyond, as per usual, but he shouldn't have had to!"
"You're right. Look, I know they're just kids, but their folks just were responsible for countless murders tonight and I can't guarantee that everyone is too tired to think of revenge."
"I'm not saying this right…" Draco put his hands behind his neck and seemed to curl into himself. He looked in pain. Harry took out his wand and pointed it at Hagrid's hut.
"Accio Firewhiskey,"
As suspected, Hagrid had at least one bottle to be summoned. As it whizzed through the air towards them, Harry remembered that he'd been using Draco's wand. He found it in his pocket and looked at it. Harry caught the Firewhiskey reflexly, without looking up. He uncorked it and took a swig before handing both the bottle and the wand to Draco. The liquid burned Harry's throat and warmed his belly and stopped the thoughts from racing through his head. He'd thought he was calm before the drink. Afterwards, he felt like he had settled down into his soul. Draco looked at the bottle, and seemed to be about to say something (maybe to object to sharing or refuse the drink altogether), but then he tipped the bottle to his lips and drank three huge swallows as if it were water. His eyes were slightly wet when he finished, and he gave a delicate cough. Harry had the awful realisation that someone could easily get addicted to the feelings that went with Firewhiskey. Draco handed it back to Harry and, partly just to do something, partly to get rid of his new anxiety, Harry drank again.
When Draco started speaking again, his voice had lost the tight stop-startedness from earlier and his posture was more relaxed. He looked like a normal person, not a proud Malfoy. Even when lounging in a huddle of fellow Slytherins, Harry could never remember seeing a hair out of place, or a crumpled shirt on Draco.
"Some of those kids were related to Death Eaters. In fact, one of my father's jobs was to talk to every graduating Slytherin and see if they would be interested in joining the Dark Lord. Both your side and mine, probably rightly so, assume that a Slytherin is more likely to be involved in all this than a Gryffindor."
"My question to you, and look, I don't expect you to know all the answers, but my question is this: will there be a Hogwarts next year and, if so, will Slytherin still be a house? Will those kids, some of them are still eleven, be allowed to go to school, or are they too much of a threat?"
"I thought you might be here about yourself and your family," Harry said. "I thought you might want your mother's saving my life to cancel out your Death Eater-iness,"
"If it can, that's great, I was a crap Death Eater so it would suck to be in Azkaban with the rest of them, but I was still one of them. And I won't fight you over my father, he's done too much. But he did it for me, and I hate to see him imprisoned again."
"No one is going to Azkaban," said Harry.
"I get we're bonding now, but you can't let my father be free and send the rest of them, he's probably only second to Lestrange-"
"No one is going to Azkaban." Harry stared at Draco until their eyes met. "It's an evil place, and we can do better."
Draco didn't say anything, but didn't drop his gaze either. Tears ran down his face and still he stared determinedly at Harry.
"You can't take this back," he warned. "I won't let you promise this and then go back on it,"
Harry didn't know what to say to make himself clear. So he grabbed Draco's hand. "No one is going to Azkaban," he said soft but firm. Draco let his forehead fall on Harry's shoulder and cried. Harry thought he knew why. Both Hagrid and Sirius had been frank about almost every subject, except their time in Azkaban. It was bad knowing how the dementors affected himself, but for Harry to see those strong men - afraid as he had seen them afraid of nothing else. Lucius Malfoy was a slimy, evil man, but Draco was his son, and no son wanted to see their dad broken like that.
Harry waited for Draco to recover. He felt like he had all the patience and the wisdom in the world tonight. He was grateful that Draco had caught him now, while the future was still so liquid. In a week, someone else might have made these decisions and cut Harry out. Harry was not going to be Minister for Magic. But he deserved to have a say on some things.
Draco had stopped crying audibly, but Harry was happy to lend him his shoulder for as long as it took for him to gather himself properly. He drank while he waited, mostly for something to do.
Hagrid woke up during this time and Harry tossed him the bottle. If he was surprised to see Draco leaning on Harry, he didn't show it. He looked too tired for surprise. Harry refilled the bottle with a charm after Hagrid took his giant sized sip. Tomorrow they would all have to get by with or without it, but for tonight it was enough to just sit.
Draco looked embarrassed when he sat up straight and saw Hagrid was awake. But then Hagrid passed him the bottle.
"Yer a good kid, Malfoy," he said. "Dumbledore told me so, an' he hasn't been wrong yet."
"Who's going to be Headmaster now?" asked Draco.
"McGonagall. For now. She can choose someone to replace her, I'm sure she's had enough of the job, but she'll do it at least for next year." That at least was an easy decision for Harry to make.
Draco nodded.
"Will Slytherins be invited back?"
"The world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters," said Harry. "Snape was both. So was Regulus Black. I think you are too. And then there are plenty of people, like Umbridge who wasn't a Death Eater but who was worse than most, and Wormtail, who was a Gryffindor but who betrayed the Order and my parents to become a Death Eater. The Sorting Hat is good at some things, but not at telling someone how their whole life will turn out. And Voldemort burned it anyway. So I'll talk with the heads of houses to see what they think about keeping houses at all, but regardless, those who were sorted into Slytherin won't be excluded just for their house."
"Can I come back?"
"In my books, yes. But I'm not the Ministry. Ultimately, they have to decide how to deal with all of us."
Harry addressed Hagrid for the next bit.
"I'm not just the hero who walks away after the fight is over, but I'm not taking power for myself either. I have some contributions I want to make - like getting rid of Azkaban - but I don't want to make all the decisions."
"Yer Dumbledore's man," Hagrid said. "It's not the easy path, but it's a good one." With that, he heaved himself up and went back to his hut.
"Dumbledore had floo powder in his office. Let's take that to the dungeons and get those kids home. Slughorn will help." Harry stood up and was surprised to find himself unsteady. He held out his hand for Draco, but he got up with all his usual grace even though he had drunk more than Harry.
"You need to learn to handle your liquor, Potter," he smirked. Harry grinned back. Draco gripped Harry in a strong hug. Harry patted him awkwardly on the back. "Thanks for hearing me out," he said.