“Yeah,” Harry answered. He fell silent, knowing he could easily go on. A decade later, Harry still had such fondness for the freed elf, but bearing those memories felt in this house felt too vulnerable, even lying in the comfort of Draco’s arms.<br/>“It’s alright,” he reassured, softly. In an attempt to reaffirm that sentiment, Harry’s right hand brushed across Draco’s hair, the braid brushing against his thumb as he followed it down. “I got to bury him.”<br/>The statement was heavy with implications, but Harry’s voice wasn’t, drifting on the brink of consciousness. It remained truthful in its simplicity; Harry was not unfamiliar with the different kind of mourning that came when death didn’t leave a body to bury.