Harry understood what Draco was saying. He knew very well how the very fickle public was and how they were bound to react. Despite what people may think, he was certainly not blind to it.

Truth was, he wasn't as uptight about what people may think as Draco seemed to be. It was years now since the end of the war and he had stepped in many times during those initial months speaking at trials for those he felt deserved it.

Those who may not have had any other choice.

"Draco, they didn't forgive me for years when they found out I was sorted in Slytherin. Or that I speak Parseltongue. Or when I was selected as the fourth champion - insisting that I did it myself." His voice wasn't raising nor was he getting agitated. He was simply stating a fact - or many. He knew Draco's concerns but he had long since given up trying to make everyone else happy.

"I know you wouldn't, Draco." He took a drink from his glass then sat it down. "Do you know I spoke at many of our friends' trials? Getting them pardoned?"

It meant, he could do the same for Draco.