"Thanks... and sorry... about... being a ponce," he finished, with a smirk.
"You can say..." Weasley started, but Hermione smacked him. "What? He said it!"
"Ron!"
Draco smiled, but wouldn't meet their eyes. The situation was still too tense.
"Dinner!" Mrs. Weasley yelled. "Come sit down!"
Draco could hear people come in from outside, and then more came down from upstairs. He retreated into Harry, who's scent overpowered the others, and calmed him down.
"Draco?" he heard, and he recognized Blaise's voice. 
He didn't want to look and see the pity in his friend's eyes. "Blaise?"
"Draco... I'm glad you're alive. They wouldn't tell me... what happened."
"I'm a werewolf," he admitted. He wasn't sure if that mattered to Blaise or not.
"Yeah... I got that part. I meant I didn't know... before the war ended. Vince and Greg are dead, if Potter didn't tell you."
Draco grimaced. "How?"
"Technically, they killed themselves with stupidity and fiendfyre. Potter was kind enough to save me from their idiocy."
Draco met Harry's eyes, and he nodded. "Blaise saved Hermione in the same fight... and then Fred and George... and Tonks. He fought on our side at the battle."
Draco nodded and fleetingly glanced around at the room. The Weasley twins were hanging by the door to the kitchen. Blaise had a look of concern on his face. He looked back down.
"Sorry... it's been hard," Draco mumbled.
"I know, Draco," he said.
"Come sit down, boys," Mrs. Weasley yelled from the kitchen. 
"We'll talk after dinner, Draco," Blaise said, and Harry's scent seemed to worry about that. 
Mrs. Weasley sat at the head of the table and had him sit next to her. Draco didn't let his eyes wander to the rest of the table. He could feel people staring at him and his scar. Mrs. Weasley made sure that there was plenty of food on his plate.
"Don't you worry, here's a nice, rare piece of roast right here. Bill likes his like this, too," she said, and put it on his plate,
"You're too kind, ma'am," he murmured, but was glad for the bloody meat.
"Nonsense, we have no scruples when it comes to dietary preferences. Eat up, dear. You need more meat on your bones!" she insisted, and he slowly complied. 
It was very good. Draco relaxed as other conversations picked up, and he wasn't the center of attention. Harry brushed his hand against his and smiled. Draco met his eyes and went back to his food. He was handling it, and he felt comfortable. Harry was blocking out most scents, but there were a few that were strange and he couldn't identify. Mrs. Weasley forced seconds on him and Harry, and he managed to eat that, too. 
"More, dear?" she asked, plate already in hand to drop more. She was a great cook, but his stomach wasn't that healed to handle so much.
"No! Please, no more, ma'am," Draco said, holding his hands over his plate.
"Okay... and you don't have to call me ma'am, Draco," she said. "How about... Aunt Molly? Would that be alright?"
Draco managed to make eye contact with her for a second. "Yes... thank you... Aunt Molly."
"Thank you, dear," she said. "Your mother and I... were schoolmates, though she was a Slytherin. It was before the war when the house animosity wasn't as bad, but she was a kind woman. She may have saved my life at the battle."