Disclaimer: HP doesn't belong to me.
He's won the war. He's won the war and vanquished the villain, and he can't remember why he bothered.
He's still standing, but he longs to fall.
The weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders, but he wants to be crushed once again, crushed until there's nothing left of him but a whisper and a memory.
He's outlived them all, outlived the loving smiles and the freckled faces and the deep brown eyes. He's outlived them all, and he's ready to fall.
The scar has faded, but he wants it back; he wants some tangible sign of his suffering, something they can all see.
He wants them to stop smiling.
He wants them to look at him and see a broken boy, not a hero.
He's still standing, but he longs to rest.
He's won the war and slain the monster. He's won the war, and he doesn't know why he fought it.
He's won the war, and he wishes he'd lost.
He's still standing.
But not for long.