The second Wizarding War had just passed and you were in your small country home, which you shared with your long-term boyfriend, Harry.

You were currently sitting at the desk, trying to catch up to the material you'd missed in the sixth months you were gone from school, hunting horcruxes.

Harry was asleep in the bed, his glasses tossed haphazardly onto the nightstand.

As you turned the page, he suddenly shot up, his panting and heavy breathing filling the quiet room.

You turned. He was hunched over, arms above his head, muttering incoherently.

"Harry?" you asked quietly to not startle him.

"I'm... f-fine." he stuttered out.

You got up, slowly walking over to him.

You sat on the edge of the bed, close enough for him to touch you but far enough to keep him from breaking down.

"Well, when you're ready to tell the truth, I'm here." you said softly.

He said nothing.