Warning: Insane fangirling ahead.

Oh my fucking god. I am so jealous of your crazy ability to write. You manage to put such amazing emotional impact into your words. You do in a sentence what it takes me a page to do. *falls in love with you a little*

And Draco doesn’t stop to think before sitting beside the boy and taking him in his arms. “It’s all right,” he pats his shoulder awkwardly. “We’re still alive. Voldemort is dead. You actually won.”
Potter leans against him. Draco wonders how much of his tears are simple exhaustion. He wonders if it would look ridiculous if he joined in.
Instead he holds, and pushes back the black hair, and pats gently.