Draco’s response made Harry’s eyes dart back up to him, half expecting him to go on; when no addition came, Harry felt heart bloom through his chest, surprised how valuable Draco’s simplicity was to him. There was no doubt in his mind that Draco did know, perhaps as the only one left alive.<br/>Just as much as Harry was racing to meet societal expectations, Draco had worked tirelessly to dispel them. It was exhausting in a way that always felt isolating and lonesome, racing against a version of yourself that you no longer wanted to be.<br/>However familiar that anxiety felt, Harry was once again forced to face the fact that he hadn’t felt lonely in months, much less so in this given conversation. Tangled up in Draco’s embrace, Harry felt understood in a way that he didn’t think would ever be for him, let alone with so few words said.<br/>The love and gratitude he felt for Draco in that moment all but knocked the wind out of him, and he realized it wasn’t the first time he had felt it.<br/>It didn’t make it any easier to face, however.<br/>“Yeah,” he muttered, drawing up short of everything he wanted to say.<br/>Feeling his cheeks heat with the prickle of tears, Harry averted his gaze, pushing his face into the fabric of Draco’s housecoat, wanting to sink into him and never let him go.