Chapter Text
He splashed cold water over his face, trying to freeze away the remnants of the dream. Had it been a dream? Or was he dreaming now? In the mirror, he met his own eyes—green, like his mother’s—before cataloguing his other features. No bruised-looking hollows beneath those eyes. No gaunt cheeks. No streaks of ash smearing across his skin as the world around him burned. He closed his eyes, unsure which of him was real.
Warm arms wrapped around his waist, grounding him. “Bad dreams?” The voice was gravelly with sleep, but it sounded like salvation, and Harry nodded as he leaned back, letting it call him home.
