Somewhere, in a dark part of Harrys mind, he still expected Bellatrix to open the door, like so many months ago. I'd been six, maybe seven months, but he still expected to hear her cackling laughter and he still imagined feeling her iron grip on his arm, dragging him to voldemort.
It wasn't Bellatrix who opened the door, though, and it wasn't her sister either. It was Lucius, fair haired, pureblood Lucius with more wrinkles than Harry remembered him having and bruised eyes that seemed to have sunk into his very skull.
"Potter," Lucius breathed, and his body seemed to deflate at the words. He was leaning against the doorpost, a shadow of the proud man Harry remembered him being. The trials and the aftermath had taken their toll on him, as well.
"Potter," he said, again, "What are you- we've been declared..."
He seemed to be searching for something, as his eyes flicked back and forth between Harry's eyes, his shoes and a point somewhere above his right shoulder.
Lucius swallowed, "There's nothing we can give, we- they said... Innocent."
Harry was yet to say something, but the very sight of him alone seemed to make the man crumble before his eyes. Harry couldn't help but wonder wonder if the man knew his long lost servant was dead, buried in the gardens of Shell Cottage.
Both men, blonde and raven haired, raised their heads at the addition of a new voice. One that Harry recognised, had loathed for most of the time he'd known it. Now, however it only caused a certain kind of numbness within his chest.
"He hasn't come to take something from us, father," said Draco Malfoy, who looked equally tired, yet more composed than his foather did, "Nor has he come to get any sort of revenge."
Lucius sighed again, at the sound of his son's voice, who seemed to read his mind.
His face, however, was still questioning.
"I've come to return something," said Harry, looking at Draco, knowing the other man knew what he was talking about.
It was like the hawthorne wand was burning in his pocket, as if feeling his previous master was near.
"Come in," Draco said, stiffly as he waved for his father to move aside. Harry couldn't see where Lucius disappeared to, but it wasn't important, as Draco led him in the other direction.
When Harry looked back, he could only vaguelly spot the whiteblond locks fromt he elder Malfoy and felt pity. Pity for the living.
Harry squinted at the illuminated form of Malfoy standing before the only bare window in the room.
He assumed it was some kind of parlor, with it's darkly padded chairs and small tables, but with purebloods, you were never sure.
"So all that time," Draco said, his hands folded behind his back, "All that time I was the one that posessed- his wand."
He had known, of course. After all, he'd heard the exchange of words between Harry and Tom as much as everyone else had, but Harry couldn't blame him for forgetting, or not having paid attention to that part of the conversation.
"Yours until I disarmed you, that day they captured us," said Harry, nodding, even though Draco couldn't see him. That day you did not reveal who I was, he finished in his head.
The young Malfoy took a deep breath, as if he wanted to say something, but it remained silent for a while longer, the both of them cast in the lighting of the setting winter-sun.
Eventually it was Harry who rose from his seat and walked over to the window as well, his hand reaching into his pocket to retrieve Draco's long lost wand. It felt odd in his hand, as he hadn't used it since he'd battled Voldemort with it.
"Hawthorne, ten inches, unicorn hair," said Harry, unable to suppress a soft grin, "Slightly springy. I believe this belonged to you, didn't it?"
He did not look up, but he could feel Draco's eyes on him and the wand in his hands, before he replied; "Yes, that would be mine."
Wordlessly, Harry placed the wand in front of them, on the black stone of the window sill. It seemed to fit, as Draco's wand was sharp and straightforward, yet sophisticated, just like Malfoy Manor.
"I never- I never truly meant to..." Malfoy began to say, before he faltered and fell silent again for a while, "I mean, I did, initially, but after I found out what it really meant, I..."
The long, spindly fingers fiddled, closing and unclosing around each other in a repeated cycle.
Harry watched Draco frown. The sun-casted shadows on his face made his features even sharper than they already were and somewhere in the back of his mind, he was reminded of another death eather that had found out what it really meant.
"I wanted to stop, Potter, truly," Draco said, his voice a little stronger than before, "I just wanted to leave it all behind and run, but I couldn't. I just couldn't."
Harry truly couldn't help it, as Dumbledore had pointed out, he was a nice person. So, very slowly, he said; "You did, though, when it mattered most. You, your family, you didn't go through with it."
Draco snorted, glaring at the window in front of him, "We're cowards, Potter, let's just admit it. We did nothing for either side, least of all me."
Harry frowned, his glasses sliding down his nose. Was he really defending Malfoy here? It seemed so, but it still felt weird.
Even after seven months.
"But you stopped, didn't you?" Harry said, looking sideways to glance at Malfoy, noting they were about the same height and he was able to look him straight in the eye, "You realised it was wrong what was happening, in time."
Draco looked away, his grey eyes flashing towards the window; "Did we?" he questioned, "Or did we simply leave, because there was nothing more for us to gain?"
Harry was momentarily silenced after that one, as it was easy to assume that was one of the reasons. He wouldn't deny that it might have been part of the bigger picture, but something in him resented the idea.
"And yet, you tried to protect them, that night on the astronomy tower," he said, expecting the jump of surprise Draco made when he said so.
Draco hadn't been aware of his presence at the time and he doubted the fact that settled into Draco's memory of the stressful, most likely very frightening moment in the Slytherin's life.
"You wanted to accept Dumbledore's offer of protection, you didn't kill him," Harry continued, following a faded white peacock with his eyes, as it pranced in the shadows of Malfoy Manor, "You felt guitly, didn't you, when you harmed Ron and Katy Bell, no matter how much you disliked Ron and Gryffindors in general."
Draco made a chocked kind of sobbing sound, when Harry brought that up and Harry watched as a tremor ran through his body.
"I didn't mean to harm them, but I was- foolish..."
"Desperate," Harry filled in, "To complete the task of killing against your will to protect your family. All of that doesn't sound too selfish, now does it, Draco?"
Draco only nodded, blinking at the orange light of the setting sun.
He turned around and waved his hand at the wall. The fire immediately rose and some half-burned candles lit themselves as he did so.
"Does it matter now?" he asked, neither Harry nor himself, like he was speaking to the fire itself, "We were declared innocent after our last minute chance-of-heart and your testimony, we haven't lost too much of our fortune and we've donated royally to the rebuilding of Hogwarts and the ministry. We should be back on our feet in no-time."
It was so typical for Malfoy to say such a thing that Harry almost, almost, laughed, chocking on the irony and the smell of burning wood that filled the room.
He uncrossed his arms and put one hand on Draco's shoulder, turning him around with slight force, to look in Draco's surprised face.
"But does that matter, Draco? Does it really?" He questioned in return.
Malfoy didn't reply, nor did he meet Harry's eyes, but the Raven haired man knew the answer.
He turned his back to the window and made to walk away, away from Malfoy, the wand and this whole blasted Manor, but not before he said; "We're only human, Draco, you have to find it in yourself to forgive or forget."
The only sounds left in the room after that were the crackling of the fire and the thuds of his boots.
"The wand's yours," Harry said, halting in the doorstep, his back still towards Malfoy, "You can decide what you want to do with it."
After all, it was likely that Draco had gotten himself a new wand and neither of their memories, when it came to that wand, were especially nice ones.
It was out of Harry's hands now and Malfoy would have to be the one to decide whether or not he wanted it and whether or not he would take responsibility for his actions, all of them, good and bad, or not.
He hoped for the best and he hoped to never, ever set foot in this manor again.