There would be time for everything later. Right now, Harry would allow the world to sort itself out. Hermione and Ron would go on dates and eventually figure out the walls of their relationship. But for right now, Harry was going to rest. His body had been ravaged by spells, he had stayed up for days, months of terrified flight and the lost of so many. The funerals had gone on for another two weeks. He had put more friends to rest than he had seen all last year. He was exhausted, physically and emotionally.

He wanted to be alone, Ginny had gone back to her family, to mourn the loss of her brother. The hardest hit in the tragedy had been her parents, obviously because of the fact that the natural order had been disturbed. He had returned to this house despite the misgivings and memories. It was quiet now, Kreacher moved about with efficiency and he didn't alert the portrait when he passed by it. Harry had been trying to be as nice as he could to him. It was getting far less difficult, once Harry had taken care of Voldemort, Kreacher had become even more amicable. Harry had asked Kreacher if he would like to be freed from his service, a gift now that the Order of the Phoenix was disbanded and secrecy was no longer paramount. Kreacher told him that a house elf's life was to serve and serve he shall. Harry at least made sure that when Kreacher ate, he ate something that he would like and given him a direct order that he must always save himself if the house should come under attack. Also, to take a rest once in a while.

There were still repairs to be made about the house and Harry set about them. He enjoyed the physcality of the labor much like he had when he dug Dobby's grave. The swing of the hammer, the noise and everything was very pleasurable.

He was cutting some wood when Kreacher bowed his way into the room.

"Told you, you didn't have to do that," Harry said offhandedly.

"Master, a visitor for you," Kreacher said.

"Really? Who?"

"The young master Malfoy."

"Malfoy's here? What the hell is he doing here?"

"He told me simply to come and collect you."

"Thank you, Kreacher."

"Shall I show him in?"

Harry mulled over what the best thing to do in this situation would be.

"No, I'll meet him in the sitting room, put on some tea if you would please," Harry said.

"Very good, master," Kreacher said.

Harry apparated with a crack downstairs so as to avoid the portrait. He didn't want to show up at the door with the portrait screaming and giving Draco something to make fun of him about. He was annoyed that Draco would come here, as if the two of them had something to say to one another. And what was with him telling Kreacher to come and collect him? He had told Kreacher to put the kettle on because he had known that Kreacher would have done it anyway. Sometimes Harry felt like he would drown in all the tea that Kreacher made him.

When Harry opened the door, he was a bit surprised by the way that Draco looked. He was wearing a black cloak and his eyes were heavy with a lack of sleep. He looked haggard and pinched.

"Hello, Harry," Draco said.

Harry was immediately put off, he had always been Potter to Draco before, now he was Harry? Draco wanted something that was obvious.

"What?" Harry asked tapping his wand against his shoulder with his arms crossed.

"Can I come in?" Draco asked.

"Not until I find out what you want."

"It's about my father."

Harry was a bit surprised that Draco would be so direct. He figured that Draco would have been a bit more opaque about his intentions. Harry looked him over again, saw how haggard he looked and opened the door more to let him in. He looked around and then sat down in the sitting room that Harry indicated. Draco sat down and Kreacher came in holding the teat tray, placing it between them. He saw Draco's lip curl at the appearance of the elf and knew that he probably wanted to say something but was held back by his need of Harry's help.

"What about your father?" Harry asked.

"He's going to be put on trial and for all intensive purposes, they're going to seek his death."

"So? What does this have to do with me? I'm not testifying in any of the cases."

"Which means that if you were to testify for him, it would undoubtedly save his life."

"You want me to testify for him? Why in the world would I do that?"

"To save him!"

"I have no intention of doing any such thing."

"What?"

"He made his choices, he could have fought against Voldemort, the first time he rose but he joined him. He could have fought him the second time around but once more he joined him. Apparently, he learned no lesson between the two experiences or he didn't want to learn a lesson."

"I'll concede that the first time around, he was mistaken but the second time, wasn't his fault! You can't disobey the Dark Lord without being murdered!"

"My friends and family defied him despite that threat. If your father had any shred of decency, he would have stood up and done something noble."

"Don't talk to me about your friends and family and their so called nobility. If I remember correctly, Molly Weasley killed my aunt Bellatrix Lestrange. Seems to me that she has just as much blood on her hands as my father does."

"Those aren't the same instances at all. It was a battle, she did what she did to protect her family."

"Explain to me how my father didn't do the same?"

"Look, I'm not going to testify, that's it. The Slytherins had the chance to go out and fight but they all ran."

"Of course they ran! They had to run! Their parents were outside fighting, would you have gone out to fight if your dad was among those out in the battle?"

"Well, I can't test that theory because thanks to Voldemort I don't have any parents. Which is in no small part thanks to your father."

"Look, I'm sorry about what happened to your parents."

"Now you are."

"But you don't understand, I admit that it's terrible that you never knew your parents but imagine would it would be like if you had known them longer. Imagine that you got to know them, had memories with them, routines, jokes, all kinds of things and then all of a sudden they're snatched away from you. Wouldn't that be worst? To have something and then have someone steal it away from you. That's what happening now! They're going to take my parents away and I'll never see them again!"

"And your father will get what he deserves!"

"Have you no idea of mercy or redemption? Why are you so intent on killing more people? Does it make you feel justified, Potter?"

"Don't talk to me about mercy! Don't talk to me about redemption! If your death eaters had just done the right thing, so many people would still be alive!"

"Yeah, I have no reason to talk to the great Harry Potter about mercy, he is selective in who he chooses to forgive. Admit it, Potter, you don't hate my father for what he's done, you hate my father because he reminds you of me. Because he's insulted you and yours before. You want my father to die because he didn't bow to you like the rest of them did. Why don't we go through the rest of your friends and family and see how they shape up, shall we? You friend, Hagrid brings a giant spider into a school full of young students who couldn't defend themselves against it, forgiven! Your friend's mother kills another woman, forgiven! Dumbledore killed his sister, forgiven! Your godfather, tries to murder by his best friend's hand, the man who spent the majority of his life trying to protect your mother! Forgiven! Forgiven! Forgiven! You pick and choose whose mistakes you forgive and that's not fair! Everyone thinks you're a hero but I know the truth, you're just a sad little boy who wants the world to feel his sadness!"

"What about the muggles? What about their deaths? He attacked them and they couldn't defend themselves either."

"Oh, muggles, you talk to me about muggles? How many muggles do you know, Potter? Since you became a wizard, how many have you kept active company with? Have you ever tried to find your muggle family after the war? You look down on them like every wizard that's ever existed. You hate them just like my father does but you won't admit it to yourself. But maybe you don't hate them, maybe you do something worse, you pity them. Them and their idiotic ways, but the funny thing is and this is the really funny part of all of this. We could stop it. We could heal their wounds, we could help them. But we don't. None of us do, no, we have to keep our distance from them. Because, well why should we help them? They're stupid and smell. And they would ask so much of us. Repair our homes, heal our sick, help, help, help. Tiring isn't it? If only we could do those things quickly, like in a matter of minutes, oh wait we can! But we don't! You don't! The wizarding world is very much like the death eaters but the difference is, we're not self delusional. We just had the courage to go through with what the wizarding world, will eventually do."

"You don't believe that. It'll never happen."

"You think it won't? All it takes is a charismatic leader. Someone will rise up and suggest it again. Mark my words."

"It will never come to pass, not as long as I live."

"Yeah, but what about after that? When you're forgotten?"

Harry couldn't argue the point and stood in angry silence.

"All I'm asking is that you come to the trial and state how my parents saved your life," Draco said.

"After trying to take it, after torturing and murdering my friends and family," Harry snarled.

"They don't have to help him, I'm asking you to do it and if you don't recognize the fact that my mother put her life on the line for you and helped you save the entire wizarding world, then you are not the hero the world wants you to be. You're nothing but a hypocrite. All those people I mentioned, you think they're good people because of the things they've done. They have done horrible things and I think they're just as bad as any of the death eaters. Your people made mistakes that could have gotten my people killed. I just want my parents to have the same chance that they did."

"They had it already."

Draco let out a sigh and looked at the ground. The tea simmered between them. He knew that his father was doomed, Harry would never change his mind. Harry kept thinking about what he was saying.

"I guess, I guess I can't convince you otherwise," Draco said.

"No, you can't," Harry said.

"Do you want me to beg, Potter? On my hands and knees? Begging?"

"No."

"Fine, then maybe it's time for me to give up on this particular method of debate."

"Good."

"Too bad that while Severus Snape and Peter Pettigrew, two death eaters, honored their life debts. You can't seem to do that. My mother saved your life and you won't return the favor. At least I don't have to live with that on my conscience. Knowing that as i was such a hypocrite."

Harry felt the rage bubbling up inside of him. At first, it wasn't that Draco had spent some time insulting him. It was that he was right, in every sense he was right. Harry was being hypocritical. Narcissa and Lucius had saved his life, which all in all, they didn't have to do that to get their son back. And by the end of the war, they were fighting for Draco's life rather than for the Dark Lord's ambitions. He finally looked at his hands and then got up.

"Fine, I'll do it," Harry said.

Draco nearly asked him why. But he didn't want to push his luck.

Two weeks later, Lucius Malfoy was brought in front of the Wizengamot. He stood with his hands chained in front of him.

The judge boomed loudly across at him. There was a continuous murmur in the court room that added a dull hum to the proceedings.

"We will first hear witnesses for the accused," he said.

It was strange that Lucius only noticed the murmur when it was taken away. He looked at what could have caused such a hush.

Harry Potter stood, staring down at him. His son, Draco was next to him.