The memory faded. One left. He reverently removed it from the dark bubble, and watched as the shroud itself dissolved into the darkness of his mind. This last memory opened before him.
He saw himself sitting with Hermione and Ron, anxiously bouncing his leg. They were waiting outside where he was expected by carriage.
"You don't think he'll be… Changed… When he comes back, do you?" Draco wondered aloud. Hermione sighed in exasperation.
"Honestly, both of you. If he can survive and vanquish Voldemort, he can survive two measley days in Azkaban."
"Right. It's just he doesn't have his wand, and he's surrounded by ex-Death Eaters and soul-sucking Dementors." Ron mused.
"Ronald!"
"What if he realizes I'm not worth the trouble?" Draco worries.
"Draco! Both of you shut up! Here he comes!"
All three of them stood as a carriage pulled by Thestrals approached with two figures riding in it. It was McGonagall, accompanied by the Boy Who Lived himself. Once they were close enough, Harry hopped out and appraised the three of them. Draco felt a lump forming in his throat, and he ducked his head. Hermione made the first move, lunging forward to pull Harry into a neck hug. Ron followed on her heels, wrapping his arms around the both of them. Draco's eye wasn't patched anymore, but it was still surrounded with purple.
Eventually, Hermione and Ron released their friend and Draco raised his eyes. He and Harry made eye contact for a moment before Draco hung his head guiltily. He heard footsteps and saw Harry approaching him, but he didn't want to lift his face because he felt the sobs manifesting themselves in his throat. To his overwhelming relief, Harry pulled him into an embrace that hid Draco's face in his shoulder, and the dam broke.
Draco wrapped his arms as tightly as he could around Harry, the sound of his muffled sobs ringing in his ears. Harry held him for as long as the tears lasted.
"I'm… So… Sorry…" Draco choked out between sobs.
"Shhh, you've nothing to apologize for." Ron and Hermione must've been leaving, because Draco heard Harry say, "Go ahead, I'll catch up with you later."
Grateful for the privacy, Draco wept to the point of exhaustion. Eventually, his knees buckled and Harry eased him down onto the bench he had been seated on, and sat beside him. Draco mopped up his tears and fought to control his hitching respiration.
"Are you okay?" Draco asked. He looked up at Harry, and really saw him for the first time. His unshaven face was showing stubble, and there were dark circles under his eyes, but he smiled at Draco.
"I've survived worse." He rubbed Draco's back with one hand in an attempt to soothe him. "What about you? How are you holding up?"
Draco sniffed and nodded.
"I've survived worse." He chuckled wearily, and Harry smiled at his own words. "Harry, they're letting Zabini return to finish his schooling."
"Yes, I know. I've promised the Ministry that I've learned my lesson, but I think he has, too. The Minister was going to punish him, too, but he deemed that he'd already endured more than his share." Draco raised his eyebrows, and Harry grinned sheepishly. "I went a little hard on him." Draco found himself laughing at this – the kind of laughter that relaxes muscles and eases mental strains. It felt good, and Harry laughed with him.
"Harry…" The Gryffindor's laughter ceased so he could listen. "Look, I still don't think I deserved your… Sacrifice… Any of them… But, I think maybe I could work to be worthy of your love." Harry nodded. "And I'm sorry it took this long and this much trouble for me to realize that I'm yours. Heart and soul. I love you, Harry Potter." The words all came tumbling out before he could talk himself out of it. Harry's face was illuminated with a smile that seemed to glow from within. Love, impossibly, made him even more handsome.
"And I love you, Draco Malfoy. In addition, I also forgive you. For any grievances you might still hold against yourself." Draco felt tears in his eyes again, even after he thought he had shed them all.
"If you can, maybe I can."
Harry leaned in to press a tender kiss to Draco's lips, who returned it in kind.
Draco thought this was the end of the memory, but after the scene faded, he caught a glimpse of himself in sparring practice class. Almost in slow motion, he watched Neville cast the blasted misfire, followed quickly by his sparring partner ducking. Draco turned to look just in time for the jet of light to hit him squarely in the face. Then blackness.
This was the end. He backed out of his mind, out of the mirrored room, into his body, and he immediately collapsed into tears. Too many intense emotions had been recalled all at once, and he couldn't help but cry. He ambled to his feet and weakly went to McGonagall's desk, behind which Dumbledore smiled knowingly from his portrait.
"Thank you." Draco uttered. Dumbledore nodded graciously, and Draco turned to leave. He had to find Harry.
Harry was sitting in the Gryffindor commonroom, staring into the flames of the fireplace. He turned to look when Draco walked in.
"Did it work?"
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Harry stood and shoved his hands into his pants pockets.
"No need to foist all that guilt on your shoulders a second time." Draco closed the space between them in a few long-gaited strides and kissed Harry squarely on the mouth.
"Draco, I have a message for you… From your father."
Draco stepped back.
"My father?"
"Yes. My cell was beside his." Draco passed a hand over his mouth and mentally braced himself.
"Alright, hit me."
"No, you need to hear it from him." Draco was confused for a second, but Harry pulled out a small vial and his wand, and unloaded a silvery memory into it. He handed it to Draco with a small smile.
They walked together to the Headmistress's office – Dumbledore's portrait was empty. Draco emptied the vial's contents into the Pensieve and delved once again into its depths.
Once in, however, he was not faced with a thousand versions of himself. What he saw was a dismal, dimly-lit cell overlooking a storm-ridden sea. He saw Harry curled in a corner, and then he saw the hole in the wall that Harry was looking through. And through the hole… Draco wasn't sure if he should cry or laugh at his father's decrepit appearance. Azkaban had certainly had its effect on his father. Then he heard him speak.
"Tell Draco… I wasted all my precious time with him, trying to turn him into me. And I couldn't be prouder that he didn't."
This was the whole message, and Draco was suddenly in his body again. He straightened with a gasp. He blinked a few times. He wasn't sure what to think. But he suddenly felt… Whole. He felt a kind of peace he'd never experienced. Was this it? The long-desired approval from his father? It didn't feel how he had expected. There was no jubilant triumph. There was only quiet peace. He closed his eyes and released a breath he didn't realize he was holding, and it almost seemed to him that he released something heavier. He felt lighter, buoyant even.
Harry scooped the memory back into the vial and handed it to Draco.
"Keep it. For the moments when you doubt." Draco accepted it, looking down at the filmy memory in his hand.
"Thank you."
It seemed to him that now he had a thousand reasons to say 'thank you,' rather than a thousand reasons to say 'sorry.'