[ Harry's eyes shut for a moment, so painfully content with the reality in this surreality that he wants to memorize the way Lily's hand brushes his hair back for when this all ends and he's got to face the world (and Voldemort) once more.

When he opens his eyes again, it's to find his mum looking at him like she could read every last secret he's got locked up in his head, and there's so much care in her eyes (the same eyes that he has) that it's hard not for him to feel a sudden thickness in his throat.

He swallows, willing himself not to make such a fool of himself and notes that if anything, maybe he's in good company. The way Lily's breath sounds shaky as she exhales is so similar to his own. ]

I'm not. [ His voice is a mumble. ] I mean, if I am at all it's because of you and dad.

[ Ugh.

He swallows again. Hard.

He tries for a change in topics. ]

I'm - yeah. I play Quidditch. Seeker. There's nothing quite like flying.