Harry had thought his insomnia would have disappeared for good once Voldemort was dead and the world around him began to settle down and move on.

He had thought he no longer would have to lay awake in his bed until far into the night, staring up at the ceiling of the dorm room, and willing his worries far enough away so he could finally rest. He had thought that was it, that it was all over and behind him now, that everything was going to be alright – as alright as it could get – again. He had thought all his troubles and worries and late night pondering would have calmed by the start of his eighth and last year.

However, it seemed he had been mistaken. If anything, it had gotten even worse.

As the day came to an end, the sun sinking below the horizon and taking its light along with it, the castle would settle for the night. The halls would become increasingly quiet as the students slowly but surely retreated to their respective common rooms, and eventually their dorm rooms for the night. The lights dimmed and the endless number of classrooms and stretches of corridors and stairs were left dark and empty. The only signs of life in the castle were the house elves quietly working away at the mess left during the day, as well as the occasional professor patrolling the halls.

By midnight Hogwarts in its entirety was asleep, or rather most of it anyway.

Harry Potter was still awake.

He stared up at the dark ceiling of the dorm room, listened to the heavy breathing and the occasional rustling of bedsheets coming from the nearby beds, and he envied them. They had all fallen asleep hours ago at this point, out like lights the moment their heads hit their pillows. He, on the other hand, had not as much as yawned since retreating for the night.

An unknown amount of time passed, simultaneously feeling like five minutes and several hours, and he got to the conclusion that sleep was never going to come for him that night. At least not if he just stayed in his bed the remainder of the night, anyway.

He reached for his glasses, then his wand and lastly the invisibility cloak tucked away among his things, and it was the start of a familiar routine. His sleeping roommates didn't stir as he quietly slipped out the door, through the silent common room and out into the hall. Despite the darkness and silence that greeted him, his wand was put away in his pocket and he simply allowed his feet to lead him down an all too familiar path.

The air that hit him as he ascended the stairs to the astronomy tower was chilly and nipped at his skin when he removed his cloak, though he paid it no mind. Because as he came to a stop at the top of the tower, something else stole his attention. Or rather, someone else.

A man stood there, leaning against the railing with his back to him. His frame was thin, thinner than it used to be, and perhaps he would have swayed in the breeze were he not holding onto the railing. It was the only thing separating him from the long drop before him.

"You're up late, Potter."

"Couldn't sleep."

Draco Malfoy scoffed at that, though there was no malice behind it. The characteristic bite and hostility behind his every word and action Harry had come to expect from him had long since dwindled and died with the Dark Lord last year, like a house fire with nothing left to burn. All that was left now were the piles of ash.

The man standing before him could once fill a room with his mere presence, standing tall and looking down on anyone in his way, controlling his surroundings whichever way he pleased without consequence. Now, however, long gone was the venomous tone in every word he uttered, and the cold gaze filled with spite and bitterness following him everywhere he went.

His presence had faded, he had curled in on himself, and his gaze had sunk to the floor, evasive and avoidant.

He had changed, had become a mere shell of what he used to be.

"You of all people should be sleeping like a baby right now." Draco didn't look at him as he spoke, still didn't, hadn't since he had come here actually. Yet he'd somehow known it was him. "I mean, you did it, didn't you, Potter?" He let out a chuckle, voice strained, and he stepped back from the railing.

"You won, you killed him, you saved the world."

When Harry stepped closer, he turned, finally facing him. However, his gaze strayed from his own. "You should be back there with your little friends, sleeping, basking in your glory." Just as he had thought, Draco swayed in the breeze as it picked up. Beneath the well fitted, dark suit, he was thin and frail, and his now dull and abandoned eyes lacked their usual spark. He looked nothing like himself anymore, hadn't for a while now.

"You don't want to be seen here with me," he said, and with that turned away from him again. "Leave me be."

Those words might have sent him away before, back to the dorms, or the kitchens perhaps, but now he stayed. He wanted to stay.

"Why are you up here?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business, Potter," Draco spat in reply, and after only a moment of hesitation; "Worried I'm up to something malicious, are you? Did your friends warn you about me? Worried I'm planning something?"

His voice wavered, and he gripped the railing with trembling hands. "Something bad?"

"Draco–"

"Don't." His grip on the railing separating him from the long drop before him tightened. He cast a glance over his shoulder at the sound of the wooden floor creaking. "Go back to bed. Leave me be."

"I can't–"

Once again, Draco refused to let him say anything else. "I'm a Death Eater, Harry. In case you've forgotten." He shifted his gaze back to the darkness ahead, when he was sure Harry wasn't coming any closer. "I signed the contract. I accepted my fate. I 'sold my soul', or whatever the Muggles say."

"You didn't have any choice," Harry said – insisted even – and shuffled closer. He feared the consequences of any sudden movement. "You did what you had to do. Who knows what they would have done if you had refused."

At that, Draco scoffed, perhaps even rolled his eyes were the circumstances different. "Does it matter?" He let go of the railing to pull at his sleeve, pulling it up to his elbow to reveal the mark spreading across his forearm. Even in the dim lighting, Harry could see the irritated, red skin surrounding the black ink. A moment later it was gone as Draco once again covered it with his sleeve.

"I have done unspeakable– no, unforgivable things. I've hurt people. Fuck, I was on their side, Harry." His hands grabbed the railing again then, now with much more intent. Once again did he look over his shoulder, their gazes meeting briefly. "Don't you understand?"

"Listen to me." Harry shifted closer, dropped the cloak in a pile on the floor to search his pockets. Not for a moment did he take his eyes off of him as he did. "Step away from the railing."

"Leave–"

"I said step away."

Draco was still not looking, yet visibly stiffened at the volume of his voice and the wand pointed at him behind his back. He didn't need to see to know. Several moments passed, and he was quiet.

"I have gone through hell and back this past year," he began, and Draco made no move to interrupt, "we all have." His hand trembled, the wand becoming unbelievably heavy. Despite this, despite wanting nothing more than to drop it and sink to the floor, he stepped even closer. He was willing to use it if he had to.

"I have lost so much, so many." His eyes bore into the back of the thin, shivering frame in front of him. His vision blurred, and he rubbed his eyes with his sleeve, not caring whether or not he messed up his glasses. "You don't have any idea what I would give, all the unspeakable things I would do, to get them all back, for a small chance to save them."

He paused only to catch his breath, lest his lungs give out and force him to. "If you don't step away, I won't hesitate to use force," he threatened. When he stepped even closer, the sharp tip of the wand pressed against the spot between Draco's shoulder blades. He wanted him to know he was serious.

"I am not losing one more."

A moment – as short as a second or as long as a minute – passed. Harry couldn't hear much over the sound of the heart racing in his chest and the blood rushing through his veins, but Draco's shoulders were shaking.

Then; quietly, softly even.

"Alright."

Harry helped him down the stairs of the astronomy tower that night, all the way down where McGonagall stood and waited for them in the dimly lit corridor. She let them pass without a word, though as they made for the direction of the common room, Harry cast one last glance over his shoulder.

She smiled, and nodded, and watched them as they disappeared down the dark hall.

Perhaps, Harry thought as he lay in his bed later that night, perhaps it was going to take him a little while longer to heal and move on. That was alright, he supposed, turned his head to look at the sleeping form beside him. He had all the time in the world now.