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Summary
Harry Potter thought that his life would begin after Voldemort was dead. But he was naive, and dead wrong. It's been almost a decade since the Second Wizarding War ended—since he became the hero the prophecy said he would be. But no one truly wins in a war. No witch or wizard at Hogwarts—or even Britain—came out of it unscathed. Everyone lost something, no matter which side they were on. But as the chosen one—as the goddamn hero of the story—wasn’t it his right to be the exception?
"You're not special, Potter." She had told him one night, after a ministry party, a few years after their eighth year at Hogwarts—somehow, the Gryffindors and Slytherins had become friends. With Hermione and Draco paving the way for odd relationships between their houses, Harry thought that night would've been the beginning of something for them. After all, considering how similar they were, how could they not become something more?
Until one day, he's sitting across from her in her dreary, cold office, her white coat badge reading: Dr. Pansy A. Parkinson.