That was how Harry had to live his life, he knew. Entirely in stolen time, in the quiet lulls in between the disasters and deaths and heart-stopping moments of terror.

He was a grown man now, and because of it, he was slightly embarrassed by his need for comfort, but in spite of it, he leaned into his godfather's embrace, resting his head against his shoulder. He took great solace in how solid and warm and most importantly, alive, he felt.