The soft resting of their foreheads together helps to bring Alfred somewhat out of himself - it's soothing, and he shuts his eyes, trying to quiet the sobs that shake his frame. Harry is being so gentle with him, and he - really feels like he doesn't deserve it. Doesn't deserve the forgiveness.

He's oblivious to the depths of Harry's self-loathing - he's a little aware that he's said he's not a very good person, but beyond that, he thinks little of it. The man has been little but kind in his eyes. And now he's here, hugging his own murderer.

Alfred slits his eyes open, sniffling at the words.

"...It - it didn't? I - I was so sure that it - it must have...."

There's also the other part of it, the other thing, the cruelty and seduction, but he - how can he even bring that up? He still feels sick over it, like some part of him is just...twisted up all wrong, and there's nothing he can do.

His hands shake at Harry's waist.