It’s over. It’s finally over.

But was it?

Sleepless nights, tossing left and right on the mattress from midnight to dawn, some nights spent studying your face for hours on end, his mind drifting off to memories he wished would leave him alone.

Sure, he defeated Völdèmořt at last and saved the world, but at what cost? For him to constantly see the wizard in his peripheral vision, whether he was at the shared house with you or at his office? For him to see you, twitching in pain under the Crüciațuś Curse with Leštrângẽ wand pointed at you for Merlin knows how long until he find you every time he closes his eyes? For him to never really escape the ‘Dark Lord’?

But there were also moments which made him feel like defeating him solved all his problems, like seeing your smile when you knock on his door and walk into the room, sitting down beside him on his office chair after a long day of work. Or watching you slowly start to admire the small scars that littered your body, realising it only made you look stronger than you already are, if possible. Even the small moments, when you were finally back in his arms every night after the Hörcrûx hunt spent on sleeping bags away from eachother. God was that torture.

He wouldn’t forget the times he laid his head on your chest, your shirt damp with his tears and his ears listening to the sweet nothings escaping your mouth. The times when he would doubt even living for a week longer. If it weren’t for you, he wouldn’t be around. He wouldn’t have done anything without you.

Like now, in his office scanning through the descriptions of a wizard who was seemingly casting curses on those around them. His glasses was perched on the bridge of his nose, his drooping green eyes scanning over the page as the soft ticking of the clock on the other side of the room fills the atmosphere.

His head snaps up when he hears a knock on the door, calling out a “Come in!” as he watches the door open with a quiet creak. And there he saw you.