It's been a year since the War, a year to the day, and Harry still cannot sleep without the nightmares.

And in that moment he doesn't care where they're going or what they're doing or even who catches them, as long as he can drink in the sight of the green-eyed boy and the one with the secret smile.

It's strange, she thinks, that in all the years she's known him she's never noticed the color of his eyes. D/Hr.