They can't all be heroes. The people who are villains aren't going to suddenly become heroes, and even the good ones will still get hurt sometimes. Harry has never felt the need to have a complicated moral code, because he knows that people can't always do the right thing, and sometimes they're not even able to try.
He's had nightmares over this subject. He knows Draco was angry at him for some reason, but even when he doesn't understand his own father, he knows that the older Malfoy was not a man who took shit from anyone, ever.
He'd never believed for a moment that Draco was even capable of killing anyone. That just wasn't a Malfoy family trait. But that had been the biggest lie he'd told in his life. He'd finally felt enough, for the first time, that he was comfortable with the fact that sometimes people did bad things, no matter who they were or what side they were on.
—-
Draco climbs in bed next to Harry in the morning, and he wants to curl up in his arms, but he feels too exhausted. Instead, he slips a hand beneath the pillow and pushes at the bottom, until he finds a pile of greasy bacon rippling around a fork.
Draco slides the fork between his teeth, then pokes the fork into the pile. He mumbles something, and Harry watches the plate for the translation.
"He's so sorry," Draco's voice is full of acid. "The chefs always serve the pig's testicles first, even though everyone knows that the nipples are the best part."
Harry rolls his eyes at the butchery, but the combination of half-finished bacon and the misery on his face brings a small smile to his face.
"I think he said something like my childhood has hurt me in the long term," Draco's voice sounds muffled from the bacon.
Harry rolls onto his side and reaches to take his hand in his. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's what he said."
—-
The next morning is bright and clear, and it feels good to be alive. The last few weeks had been worse than anything he'd ever known, and being back with his family was wonderful. Harry stands in the hallway, his shoes still untied, trying to decide what to do with his hair. He runs his fingers through it, looks around, and takes a seat on the bottom step, pulling his shirt and trousers out of his bag.
Lucius is sitting on the top step of the staircase, reading the Daily Prophet. He raises an eyebrow when he sees Harry, but doesn't say anything. Harry stands up and kicks off his shoes.
He smoothes the front of his underwear, then hooks a finger into the neck of his shirt, pulling it over his head and down his body. He kicks it onto the step beside him. Then he turns, walking down the hallway as far as he can, testing the weight of his body and the bone structure of his bones, before he lets himself drop to the grass.
Malfoy and his parents are still watching from the top of the stairs.
