Harry Potter didn't need the money.

Of course, that wasn't what the papers said. They claimed that he had fallen on 'hard times' since the war and the only reason he was publishing a tell-all was to make back some of that grand Potter Fortune he had lost over the years.

It was utter garbage.

His friends knew the truth and promoted it on a grand scale – Harry figured Hermione took secret pleasure in having an excuse to bash Rita Skeeter publicly. The truth was that therapists, Hogwarts teachers, friends, and even the Weasleys had suggested he share his experiences with the world. "It will give you closure," many of them said.

Two years after the war, Harry gave in and started the rough draft.

It wasn't an easy process. He knew going into it that reliving a lot of the painful moments would cause his depression to worsen and his PTSD to flare up at night. But through it all, he had his friends there to comfort and encourage him.

Seven months after he had started writing, the tell-all was ready for publication.

He wasn't in the country when the book hit the shelves.

Instead, he had traveled to Romania to help Charlie with his dragons while he waited for the dust to settle. He knew that if he stayed in the country, he would be hassled by press wishing to interview him about the book. So instead he dropped off the face of the earth, with only Hermione and Ron knowing his true whereabouts. He received owls from them at least once or twice a week telling him how popular the book was, how the majority of feedback was positive, and how they were all doing. Hermione and Ron had been written about extensively in his book and while they had given their heartfelt consent beforehand, Ron couldn't help but send a letter after publication that jokingly accused Harry of 'stealing all his best moments'. Harry wrote him back with a lewd drawing of a misshapen dick.

During his stay with Charlie, Harry found an easy routine. He would get up, check for post, tend to the needs of the dragons for a few hours, eat lunch either with Charlie or one of Charlie's teammates, go for a hike around the grounds, tend to the dragons some more, have dinner, and then retire to his tent. It was relaxing and freeing. Sometimes he pondered whether or not he should return to England. Charlie was welcoming and very appreciative of Harry's ability to learn quickly and devote himself to his work. On more than one occasion, when Charlie suspected Harry was getting antsy, the elder Weasley would put a hand on Harry's shoulder and tell him, "There's no rush. Take your time."

Harry could have married him in those moments.

Unfortunately, Harry couldn't hide out forever. He knew that with the tell-all's publication, he would eventually have to do at least one interview back home to cover any questions people might have. Hermione and Luna had proofread the tell-all before it was published and had both informed him that they knew people would recognize his honesty and appreciate his humility. However, Harry knew that there would be one or two follow-up questions from the Prophet or the Quibbler regardless.

So, he left Charlie and his beloved dragons, and traveled to the Burrow.

Everyone was immensely happy to see him. Molly had to be pried away from him by George and Ginny. Ron offered to apparate them to some desert to get away from the madness but Harry found solace in being surrounded by his family. Over dinner, he updated them on how Charlie was doing and listened to Ginny brag excitedly about her latest Quidditch victory and George talk about success at the shop. He wanted to relax completely but Hermione's relative silence reminded him that the inevitable was coming. Thankfully, she had the tact to wait until they were standing out among the gardens alone to approach him about it.

"Have you thought about who you want to interview with?"

"I guess Luna's out of the question," Harry sighed.

Hermione gave him a sympathetic smile. "She won't ask what the people want to know – only the odd questions about creatures or weird circumstances."

"Dennis Creevey?"

"Took a sabbatical."

"Kingsley?"

"Too biased as Minister of Magic."

"Can't we have one of the Hogwarts professors do it and have the Prophet record it or something?" Hermione gave him her signature Look and he ran a hand through his hair. "I know why I need to do an interview but isn't everything straightforward in the book?"

"It is but people want to see you. They want to know that you truly wrote it and back up everything in it."

"Are we sure Dennis can't come back?"

Hermione pulled him in for a hug.

XXXX

They settled on Abigail Flounder, a classmate of Ginny's who hadn't been at Hogwarts for Harry's seventh year because her mother had been dying of illness. Abigail was sympathetic, compassionate, understanding, and wouldn't pressure Harry to answer anything he didn't want to. Ginny vouched for her and confirmed that her reporting style was all factual and unbiased. They had gone back and forth on location for the interview – Harry had wanted something familiar like the Burrow or Hogwarts, but Hermione and Ron warned him against somewhere that might get mauled by reporters in the future. McGonagall had enough to deal with at Hogwarts without added press attention. It took a while but eventually they agreed on a park with a lake about an hour away from the Burrow. It was open and wide but hardly any Muggles journeyed there because it was so far away from any town. Abigail conjured up a pair of benches and comfortably sat down across from Harry. A camera recorded their faces while Abigail's quill took down the conversation.

It lasted less than an hour. Abigail, true to her reputation, was patient, understanding, and never tried to guilt-trip Harry into answering something he wasn't comfortable with. Mostly she was there just to confirm the suspicions of the masses – that Harry really did write the book, that he didn't have a ghostwriter, that the book showed his truth, and that he wasn't in it for any kind of fame or fortune.

One of her last questions was, "How do you think those mentioned in the book will respond to your experiences?"

Harry was quiet for a moment as he thought about it. "Neville, and the Weasleys read an advanced copy before it hit the shelves. Hermione and Luna proofread it for me. Of course, all of them largely knew how and what I was feeling as I experienced it over the past few years. I still wanted to clear it with them, though. Especially since they were the ones encouraging me to write this and find closure. They've all been very supportive before, during, and after its publication."

"And what about those that you haven't talked to about the book?" Harry bit his lip and Abigail continued, "Many of the families of those who lost loved ones in that final battle have come forward thanking you for acknowledging their beloved's sacrifice. Others are…hurt, I think, from the loss that still feels so fresh to them. In the book, you note how those that have been lost to us will never truly be gone. What do you say to those families that are still healing?"

"The pain will never go away," Harry replied after a moment. "I still harbor so much anger and pain and frustration for a lot of what happened. I can't visit Diagon Alley without thinking of Fred. I haven't been able to return to Hogwarts since the funerals, I…" he trailed off and swallowed uncomfortably. After chewing his lip for a minute, he continued a little shakily, "The pain doesn't go away. And there's a lot that still needs to happen. But I hope that solace can eventually be found for both the living and the deceased."

Abigail smiled at him. It wasn't conniving like Rita Skeeter's grin or ugly like Umbridge's. It was genuine. Understanding. Comforting.

"A lot of people, especially those connected with the Ministry or Hogwarts, are a bit displeased with your view of some of the accused Death Eaters."

"You're talking about Malfoy."

Abigail nodded. "Along with Draco Malfoy's parents, Gregory Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson among others."

"We were children fighting a war we wondered if we could win," Harry said after a moment. He had had this same conversation with himself a million times before. "As I've said in the book, I understand why a lot of them did what they did in certain situations. While I don't condone a lot of what's happened, I think in those last two years, before the final battle, everyone was being pulled to action. A climax was coming and I think everyone just wanted to make it through alive."

"You spoke at some of their trials."

"I did."

"As a reminder to our readers, you spoke in defense of Draco Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, and Gregory Goyle particularly at their trials."

"I did."

"Why?"

"They didn't deserve to go to Azkaban. Even after…" Harry trailed off and took a breath. "Azkaban is for people like Bellatrix Lestrange, were she alive. It's a place for the irredeemable."

"You believe they deserve a second chance."

Harry looked up into her eyes and nodded firmly. "I do."

Abigail smiled again. "Thank you, Harry. I'm sure it wasn't easy to relive a lot of those memories. We really appreciate you coming forward with your take on the events and hope that you, too, can find solace in your future."

They exchanged pleasantries as Abigail packed up her equipment and wand. She shook Harry's hand warmly before disappearing. Once she was gone, Harry sat there on the bench and didn't move, even as he saw Ron and Hermione approaching from his peripheral vision.

He didn't move to wipe away the tears.

XXXX

Draco Malfoy was in Germany performing his community service hours when Potter's tell-all book was published. He was sure that copies had already been pre-ordered. Not wanting to associate himself with whatever Potter had to say, Draco didn't add his name to any list. Instead, he focused his attention on his research. He was to publish his own findings soon enough – though, they would have nothing to do with his past. For Draco, it was about moving forward and restoring his family's name. He didn't need to read whatever nonsense Potter wrote to achieve closure.

It was a rainy Tuesday morning a few months after Potter's book had been released when the package came. Of course his mother of all people had sent him a copy with a note that simply said, "Read the entire thing."

Draco hadn't read it. He had tucked it away with his mother's note in a drawer across the room and resumed his research. But as the hours ticked away, he found himself glancing more and more at the dresser. Surely whatever Potter had to say would upset him. And Draco didn't need the distraction. He was so close to perfecting this potion. He had spent months working on it. He couldn't afford to waste time reading Potter's nonsense.

Draco sighed heavily, letting his hair down from its tie and running his fingers through it. His locks had grown to shoulder-length. He knew he needed to cut it soon and keep it neat, lest the Prophet mistake him for his father. But having been sentenced to a minimal use of magic, Draco figured he would just ask his mother to cut it for him upon his return.

He just needed to complete his research first.

Draco stood from his desk and walked over to the dresser, letting his hand rest on the wood. He glared down at the dresser as if his icy stare could burn the whole thing and its contents. He knew the Aurors assigned to monitor him would probably frown upon him getting distracted from his task.

"Half an hour. I'll read for half an hour and if it turns out to be utter garbage, I'll trash it and go back to work."

The empty room didn't answer him. The Aurors watching from across the field outside didn't answer. Making up his mind, Draco yanked open the drawer and reached in, giving his mother's note a quick glance before pulling out the book.

Read the entire thing.

"Waste of time," Draco replied aloud to his mother's note but he opened up to the dedications page nonetheless.

Dedicated to the memory of those lost. May they never be forgotten.

Suddenly he felt something lurch in his stomach. Surely Potter only meant those he had liked that had died. Somehow Draco didn't think Potter had had Crabbe in mind when he wrote this dedication.

Drawing a breath, Draco moved to his bed and sat down, turning to the first page of text.

Half an hour. That's all I will read for.

XXXX

When his clock chimed midnight almost seven hours after he had started reading, Draco was still in his bed, holding the book in his hands, and staring at the pages. He had read the book twice to make sure he hadn't read anything wrong or missed something.

As the clock finished its final chime, Draco glanced out the window. The Aurors were either bored of watching him or had gone to bed - they hadn't disturbed him for taking a break. He looked back to the research on his desk that had been left untouched. He swallowed and cleared his throat a few times but he couldn't make himself return to his work. Potter's words continued through his mind as if on a loop.

A tapping on his window startled him.

Finding the willpower, Draco stood from the bed on slightly-shaky legs and opened the window to let his mother's owl in. The gentle bird held a copy of the Prophet that had been enchanted to show both the audio and video of Potter's interview. Attached to the paper was another note that read, "I'll be up if you need to talk."

Draco glanced back at his research and sent a silent apology to the patients waiting for his perfected potion. There was no way he would be able to focus on his work tonight. Cursing his mother for distracting him in the first place, Draco unfolded the paper on his bed next to the book and watched the interview.

When the reporter asked Potter about why he defended Draco and the others at their trials, Draco held his breath. Of course he knew what Potter would say – the Chosen One had explained his reasoning in the book, but Draco found that he wanted to hear it. He wanted to hear Potter say what he wanted the world to accept.

That he deserved a second chance.

Suddenly, Draco was angry. He was angry at Potter and his stupid book, he was angry at his father, he was angry at Voldemort, he was angry at himself for wasting his valuable time on this nonsense in the first place. Hurling the paper across the room, Draco let the sudden silence wash over him as he rested his head in his hands. He was trying to move on and redeem himself and his family through his own means. He didn't want Potter's pity or help. He didn't need Potter to like him. He could do this on his own. It was why he had traveled away from England in the first place – to get a fresh start. To be away from his shame and his guilt and the nightmares and his mother and Potter –

Draco opened his mouth but nothing came out. No scream, no sob, nothing. Maybe he couldn't escape his past. Maybe he couldn't sweep it under the rug and start fresh. But here was Potter of all people saying that Draco deserved it.

That he deserved a second chance.

He glanced over and miserably noted that his mother's owl was still sitting on his dresser, watching him patiently.

"You're not leaving without a reply, are you?" Draco whispered. His voice was hoarse and it made him cringe. He didn't want to show weakness. He couldn't afford to show weakness.

The owl simply stared back at him, nonjudgmental.

Sighing, Draco reached out for a quill and, with shaky hands, wrote a brief note to his mother. He rolled it up and attached it to the owl's leg, giving the bird a quick pet in the process.

"Tell her not to worry," Draco muttered to the bird.

The owl seemed to give him a disbelieving stare before flying off.

Draco closed the window and turned to look down at the paper. Potter's face was frozen in the picture on the front page. He looked older. Slightly weepy but strong. Content. Happy with himself and his decision.

Draco hated him for it.

Granted, Potter hadn't gotten nearly the same amount of negative press that Draco and his family had received after the war. His parents had been under house arrest for that first year, only leaving to attend their trials. His father hadn't gone to Azkaban like predicted. Draco had known at the time that Potter had spoken up in his favor but he hadn't known what had been said. The book had answered that. The book had answered a lot of unasked questions Draco had held over the years. And now the entire world knew the truth of all that had happened.

Potter hadn't sugarcoated the fact that Draco had been an insufferable prat and a bully during the beginning years at Hogwarts. And he hadn't left Draco out when discussing the arduous events that happened at Malfoy Manor. But in the end, Potter's view of him was a hopeful one. One that described Draco as someone who could show a lot of promise if given the chance to do good in the world.

Draco's hand closed over his Dark Mark without him realizing.

Turning back to his research, Draco made up his mind. He wouldn't return to England until his potion was perfected and he could return victorious.

And if he happened to run into Potter, so be it.

XXXXXXX

Author's Note: Huge thanks to beckily and indigowallbreaker on tumblr for beta reading this for me. Please, please leave a comment and favorite this if you enjoyed it. I've worked so hard on writing it and the others have worked really hard on beta reading it and it really deserves all of the love. Thank you for your comments! The next chapter will be up soon.