Draco stood in front of the Malfoy family crypt, facing the closed casket, feeling more lost and alone than he ever had in his life.

The only other people there were the hired mortuary employees. 

No one else will mourn Narcissa Malfoy, he thought bitterly.

Two years had passed since the end of the war, and all of the chaos and pain that had followed. Lucius was still serving a lifetime sentence in Azkaban, and Draco was secretly glad. His father was responsible for the Malfoy's involvement in the war. He chose to follow Voldemort before Draco had even been born, and where had following that psychopath gotten them?

Sure, Potter's surprising testimony and adamant demand that their punishment be as lenient as possible had saved Draco and Narcissa from Azkaban, but they were still social pariahs, unwanted anywhere. They'd only had each other for the past two years, alone in that enormous, dreary old mansion that reeked of dark magic.

And then his mother had taken ill.

He could still picture the look on the Healer's face when he told Draco there was no hope for her. Healer Thomas was a kind old man, the only Healer in the area willing to make a house call to the Manor. His mouth had twisted down as he delivered the news, his eyes filled with pity: All they could do was make her comfortable.

"When I'm gone, you need to leave this place," Narcissa had begged Draco, "start a new life, forget the past, and find your peace, my love."

He had given her hand a gentle squeeze and managed to whisper, "I'll try. I love you, Mum."

"And I love you, Draco."

His mother had smiled at him, then, and her face had relaxed as she fell asleep.

She did not wake again.

"Would you like to say something, Mr. Malfoy?" One of the men asked, interrupting Draco's thoughts and hurtling him back to the present.

Draco nodded and stepped forward, placing a gloved hand on the casket.

"Mum," his voice broke, and an icy tear trickled down his cheek, "I'm sorry."

He heard the tell-tale crack of a nearby Apparation, but he ignored it.

"You were brave, and strong. You tried to shield me from the darkness for as long as you could—"

An outbreak of whispers broke out behind him.

"Is that...?"

"No. It can't be."

"Why would he come to the burial of a dark witch?"

"And I know you loved me, and did your best to protect me, even lying to the Dark Lord at the end, so that we could have a better life after the war was over. I'll never—" Draco's voice shook, tears flowing freely now, "—never forget."

A gentle hand came to rest on his shoulder as he choked out the last few words, "I love you, Mum."

Draco turned and allowed himself to be pulled into a hug. Strong arms wrapped around him as he sobbed against a black wool coat, shaking and crying and fighting for each bitterly cold breath. He didn't care who it was, he just relished the feeling of being held while he finally allowed himself to lose control, letting violent sobs wrack his body.

After a few minutes he slowly regained his composure, taking slow, deep breaths as he calmed himself. Finally, Draco pulled away, wiping at his eyes with his gloved fingers, and found himself looking into emerald eyes shining behind round glasses.

Draco took another step back. "Potter? What are you doing here?"

"Your mother saved my life. I wanted to pay my respects."

"Saint Potter. How very noble of you." Draco spat the words, but he could barely muster his usual venom. He was too tired, too sad, and all he really wanted was to collapse back into the warmth of Harry's arms.

Harry was watching him through narrowed eyes. "I'm not trying to be noble, Malfoy. I'm trying to be kind."

"I don't need your kindness, or your pity."

Harry sighed, clearly exasperated, but he forced himself to remain civil. "It's not pity either, I just..."

Draco glared at him, cutting off whatever he was going to say.

Harry ran a hand through his messy black hair. "Listen, I didn't come alone."

Harry nodded behind his shoulder. Draco turned and saw a witch standing a little ways off who bore a chilling resemblance to Bellatrix Lestrange, but upon closer inspection, the differences were clear: Her dark eyes, which she was wiping tears from at the moment, had smile lines around them. Her hair was lighter, and her face was  rounder and infinitely more friendly.

Andromeda, Draco thought, the aunt I've never met.

Harry gave her an encouraging smile, and she stepped forward.

"Draco, I — I'm so sorry. For not reaching out, after the war, and for the loss of your mother." She hesitated before continuing. "Cissy and I were very close as children, and I'll always regret not making amends before—" She let out a sob, cutting off her words.

Draco stared blankly at her.

"I would like to get to know you, if you're willing—"

"No, thank you."

Draco turned on his heel, stopping only briefly to address the mortuary owner. He pulled a bag of money out of his pocket. "Here is what we agreed upon, you may put her in now. Thank you for your service." He walked a few more steps, turned briefly to glance at them, then Apparated away.

Harry hugged Andromeda, letting her cry against his shoulder exactly as Draco had a few minutes earlier.

They stayed until the crypt was closed and the mortuary workers had left.

Finally spent, Andromeda took a shaky breath. "Why wouldn't he—? We're family, and we have almost no family left..."

Harry shook his head. "I dunno, Andy. He's grieving. Maybe he'll change his mind after he's had some time."

He stared at the spot where Draco had Disapparated from. Before disappearing, he had made eye contact with Harry one last time. Harry could still picture those stormy grey eyes, ringed with red, the slicked-back blond hair, cheeks flushed from tears and the cold... Draco had managed to stand tall, and yet, he had still looked completely shattered.

Andromeda nodded, wiping at her eyes. "I'd better go pick up Teddy."

"I can take him for the rest of the day, if you need some time."

"Would you?"

"Of course, I'll go pick him up at the Burrow."

"Thank you, Harry. I'll come pick him up at your flat after dinner. Around 7? Would that be alright?"

"That's perfect."

Harry took a few steps back, then Disapparated to the Burrow, leaving the snow-covered cemetery behind.

•••••

Meanwhile, back at his empty Manor, Draco collapsed onto his bed.

Harry Potter had been trying to be kind to him, and he had responded by being a complete arse.

It's better this way, Draco told himself. You can't have him, so it's better this way.

He'd repeated that thought to himself many times over the years.

But he couldn't stop himself from remembering how it had felt to be held by him. Potter had smelled nice. He'd never worn cologne at school, but he seemed to have started sometime since. His hair had been as messy as ever, his eyes still strikingly green and full of heartbreaking empathy when they met Draco's. The coat that Draco had soaked with tears had also been surprisingly stylish, for muggle fashion, and maybe it's because it had been such a long time since anyone had hugged him, but he felt a rush of warmth just thinking about it. 

He curled into a ball on the bed and began to sob, letting his grief wash over him once more.

•••••

Years would pass before Draco saw Potter again, although he saw the occasional article in the newspaper or magazine.

"Harry Potter single-handedly captures escaped Death Eaters: Alecto and Amycus Carrow, Rookwood, and Yaxley, putting him in position to become the youngest Senior Auror in a century!"

"He's Single, Witches! Harry Potter and Holyhead Harpies Star Chaser Ginny Weasley are over: They claim the split was amicable, but was it?"

"Harry Potter attends Quidditch game with godson, Teddy Lupin. Cheers unapologetically for ex-girlfriend Ginny Weasley. Is it really over?"

Draco had been unable to resist chuckling at the photo of Harry beneath the last article. He'd thrown one hand up defensively and backed away from the camera, looking thoroughly harassed. His other hand held an adorable toddler with turquoise hair steady on his shoulder. The quote from the article was just so typical Potter: "Yes, it was amicable. No, neither of us cheated, we just decided we're better as friends. Yes, that's all there was to it. Yes, you might still see us together occasionally, seeing as we're friends. No I'm not dating anyone else at the moment. Of course I still support the Harpies for the cup. No, I'm not giving up my box at the stadium. Now, please leave me alone."

Shortly after the litany of articles "detailing" Potter's breakup were released, Draco's application to complete additional schooling at Ilvermorny was accepted. He'd taken his mother's advice, and after a few months of grieving, he made plans to leave Britain.

He sold Malfoy Manor and donated most of the profits to St. Mungo's anonymously. He was already wealthy, and he liked the idea of using the money for something good. After all, it had been a long time since the Manor had felt like home. Certainly not since Voldemort had taken up residency there. Draco had no desire to return.

Eight months after his mother's dismal funeral, Draco took an International portkey and landed in Massachusetts to continue his education.

•••••

Harry truly did thrive as an Auror during that time.

He rose quickly through their ranks, his physical strength and magical abilities proving to be second to none.

His team of Aurors were responsible for capturing any death eaters who escaped during the war, and they were wildly successful.

Harry's ability to perform nonverbal and wandless magic, honed during his Auror training and non-stop fieldwork in the years that followed, made him a veritable powerhouse in the field. His team reveled in the fear that his presence struck when he approached their targets, his magic crackling around him dangerously.

After nearly all the escaped death eaters were captured, Harry's team was responsible for scattering and/or trapping the large groups of Dementors that still plagued Britain after the war. Enraged that they were unable to return to Azkaban to feed on prisoners, they had begun attacking innocent victims. Harry made quick work of them, and striking photos of him and his stag Patronus dominated the Wizarding papers for weeks.

That story even made the American papers, and Draco had nearly choked on his tea at breakfast. In the full-page photo, Potter was wearing fitted crimson Auror robes. As the image moved, his hand would raise and his stag Patronus would burst from his fingertips, rearing imposingly in front of him.

The sight of his school crush looking so fierce and powerful, as well as extremely fit, made Draco's mouth run dry. He'd shifted in his seat, swallowing hard. His roommate, a french student in his graduate program named Andrè, had taken the paper from him and appraised it curiously.

"Harry Potter? He is very attractive, no?"

Draco nodded in response.

"Did you know him at school?"

"Oui."

"Were you friends?"

Draco laughed. "No."

"Pity," Andrè had responded, giving Draco a knowing grin, "he is exquisite."

Draco rolled his eyes, snatching back his newspaper. "You have a boyfriend."

"I can still look!" the other man joked, "besides, I meant for you."

Draco arched a brow, "We're not, we would never... No, Andrè."

"If you say so," Andrè responded, winking at him and leaving the room.

Four more years would pass after that, with only the occasional news article about Potter in the American papers. Draco pointedly ignored Andrè and his American boyfriend (who eventually moved in with them) Kent's teasing, but he secretly kept the articles.

Now, he was wrapping up his graduate work with top marks, and looking forward to returning to Britain in a few short months. He had applied for and been offered a job at St. Mungo's, and he was looking forward to starting his work as a Specialty Healer.

His only remaining task was finding a place to live. He'd hoped that after several years away, perhaps the Wizarding community in Britain might have softened toward him. Sadly, he was wrong. But after a month of searching, he found a suitable place that would take him. At an exorbitant rate, of course.

Just two months shy of five years since his mother's funeral, Draco Malfoy was finally going home.