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Harry was tired in a way that words could not begin to describe. He was tired of the war, tired of running, starving, bleeding. Harry felt like giving up sometimes. A lot of times.
There was so much he missed about before, but Luna, his everything, was easily at the top of that list. He could picture her fine blonde hair wavy and rippling like a brook, her small hands in his, fingers laced. The smell of her shampoo, the warmth of her body, the sound of her voice. The feel of her lips against his, sweet as strawberries and warm as summer.
There's nothing Harry wouldn't give to be back there in her arms, his head on her chest letting her heartbeat drown out the world. So yes, he is tired, and in this moment he wanted so desperately to give up, for this all to be over, but Harry would keep going for her.