Harry awoke almost exactly an hour from when he fell asleep in his bed in Gryffindor tower. Exhausted as he was, his mind was still racing and his body flooded with adrenaline; to get any sleep quite yet was impossible. He reached for his glasses and slowly sat up. His whole body ached from the mental and physical exertion of battle. He stood up, grabbed his invisibility cloak and walked down through the doorway behind the portrait of the Fat Lady and toward the Carnage that was the Great Hall.

From behind the safety of his Invisibility Cloak, Harry saw to his surprise that there were still a lot of people in the Great Hall. Several witches and wizards that Harry recognized from his break-in at the ministry as Aurors were escorting the remaining Death Eaters, among them Lucius Malfoy, outside the castle so they could Disapparate them to Azkaban. He saw the Weasley family, still red-eyed from crying, still sitting and standing in the corner where Fred's body last was. He followed their gaze to a group of wizards who seemed to Harry to be the equivalents of Muggle Morticians. He wondered to himself if they had made arrangements with the Weasleys for Fred's funeral. Fresh tears began to trickle down Harry's cheek as he looked over at George Weasley, the mirror image and twin brother of his dead friend. George was gazing blankly at nothing in particular; he looked like a victim of the Dementor's kiss, cold, soulless and empty.

Harry jerked his head away from the Weasleys and repressed a sob as he continued to survey the room. About Fifteen feet from where he stood, he spotted Andromeda Tonks, who was locked in a tight embrace with a blonde woman whom it took Harry a moment to recognize. He let out an audible gasp as he realized this blonde was Andromeda's sister, Narcissa Malfoy. The Black family had disowned Andromeda years ago for being a "Blood Traitor", for she had married muggle-born Ted Tonks. But here was Narcissa, holding her sister like a good friend she hadn't seen in years. Both women had obviously been crying. Curious, Harry carefully crept closer to the Black sisters until he could hear parts of what they were saying over the drone of the crowd.

"So sorry Andromeda, she was so young…" Narcissa sobbed. They must have been talking about Tonks. Why would Narcissa care about her? Harry wondered bitterly. A better look at her face revealed that Narcissa was indeed upset; she wasn't wearing that haughty smirk that was always on her face any other time he'd seen her. "…all so wrong," Narcissa continued between choking sobs.

"And you allowed You Know Who into your home?" Andromeda was asking. Narcissa started to bawl even louder.

"We had no choice. The Dark Lord – You Know Who – was threatening my family, Andromeda. We had no choice but to… to let the Death Eaters take over our home. To let them rape me, in my own bed, in front of our sister, who did nothing to stop it and in front of my son… Draco…' she was saying between choking sobs, "…had to watch a teacher of his from school murdered in cold blood in our dining room… and that dirty bitch sister of ours Bellatrix, always hanging on the Dark Lord like some kind of evil whore…" The dark haired woman didn't seem to know what to think of this reunion with her sister, but embraced her again anyway.

I have to get out of here, thought Harry, I have to get some air… to breathe… he burst through the front gates and ran. His exhausted, worn body pushed every little bit of pain, of rage, of confusion and regret into his legs and he ran. By the time he stopped, he found himself in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, and there his mind exploded. He silently screamed that he should have been able to save Snape, the man who loved his mother, the man whom he hated for six long years, the man who protected him for six long years. If only he could have been there for Fred, for Colin Creevey, if he could have just won the TriWizard Tournament and never led Cedric to his death… if he could have cast a strong Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix before she took his Godfather from him… if only he'd never been born, his parents would still be alive and probably happily reading the Prophet together over coffee.

These thoughts had always tortured him before, little at a time, but now that his prophecy had been fulfilled, his life's work done, they all hit him at once and he cried, alone on the Quidditch pitch. At that very moment, Harry stopped crying, because he thought he heard someone. He was in no fit state to be answering any questions right now, and Rita Skeeter could be lurking around anywhere by now looking for an interview with The Chosen one. He listened very carefully for a minute before realizing that he was right, he wasn't alone, and that whomever was out there with him was crying as well. He silently got up to head back into the castle when someone called out to him timidly, almost in a whisper.

"Hey, Potter…"

Draco Malfoy. Harry started to walk away faster and Malfoy just called to him again. "I can see your trainers, you know. I know it's you."

Harry took the cloak off to reveal himself to a very distraught looking Draco Malfoy.

"Malfoy. I can't even…"

"I'm sorry," Draco choked.

"… What?"

"I'm sorry Potter. I never wanted… I mean, I had to, my family was being threatened by the Dark Lord. Kill or be killed. What I am trying to say is, thank you for saving my arse back there n the room of requirement. And, when Fenrir caught you and Granger, I knew but I didn't say. I just... Thank you. I'm sorry." Draco turned away from Harry and began to walk in the other direction. Harry stood firmly in place, dumbfounded, for a minute before saying, "Malfoy!"

Draco turned around to look his former archenemy in the eye. His expression was unreadable. A million things raced though Harry's mind as he stared Draco in the eye and Draco stared back… First rage, that Draco had a hand in the murder of Albus Dumbledore. Then somehow in the minute that felt like a lifetime, Harry felt himself feeling… pity. He felt sorry for Draco Malfoy. Draco did only as his overbearing father would allow him to so that he could carry out the prestigious Malfoy blood line. He'd never had much of a choice in anything in his life. And those awful things his mother was saying back in the Great Hall…

"I'm sorry too," Harry blurted out before even realizing what he was saying. "Now I think you know how it feels, to be born into something with no choice to escape," he continued. "I'm sorry that you know what it's like to be me."

Draco just looked at him for a moment, his expression still unreadable.

"I know what I've done and been involved in is not something that can ever be redeemed," Draco started. "But for what it's worth, I meant what I said. I'll be lucky if I'm not looking at a one-way ticket to Azkaban, and I will die a happy man some day just to have gotten that off my chest. I don't hate you Potter, I've never hated you. I've always been jealous of you, and I've always respected you, and for that I hated myself for that. There, I said it."

As Draco walked back to the Castle, Harry stood alone on the Quidditch Pitch, completely dumbfounded.