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    Summary

    The war ended, but it still raged inside of his mind. It ended, but it didn't take him with it when it moved on. Voldemort was dead, but he wasn't. Lots of people died, but he didn't. It didn't make sense, until he heard the voice. Then everything made too much sense, the dots connected, and Harry wished they never existed in the first place. He was stuck, stuck behind the icy sheet of despair and nightmares, he saw no way out in the Wizarding World; so, he left, and yet everything still felt cold.

    However, their hands were warm. Far warmer than his, and that made even less sense than everything else before. He held the presence of Death, but they were dead. How was it that a corpse was warmer than him?

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    9,270
    Chapters:
    5/?
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    Kudos:
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