Drabble
I wrote a drabble for xylodemon's Harry/Draco Drabble Project, the prompt is: Post-war, troops coming back.
Regrets
Harry knew, he should be grateful for his state of aliveness. Pleased that he had a warm bed to sleep in. Appreciate that while others risked their lives for him his biggest concern was what to wear for the next funeral and whether he could use the same speech more than once.
Or at least act relieved when they started coming back.
One by one, tired and dusty and happy. His stomach lurched at the sight of their smiles, at the hugs and their tears. They had a reason to cry and laugh. They were there, they fought, they did what he could not. He remembered Dumbledore’s grave words, empty of feeling. Hermione’s sad whispers. Draco’s kisses. He hated them all so much. Hated himself most of all.
“Harry.” They said. “We did it” They hugged him. “He is gone.” They cried. “You can have your old life back.” They left.
Harry nodded, unable to offer even a fake smile in return.
At first they came to visit. Told him great tales of bravery and despair.
Then they called for Christmas, sometimes his birthday.
Years later his funeral was a quiet affair.
“I loved you.” Someone said.
Malfoys never cry.