Post-war Harry Potter is diagnosed with PTSD. After everything the war took from him, no one is particularly surprised.
Nightmares.
Flashbacks.
Hypervigilance.
Hallucinations.
The most persistent one wears Voldemort's face.
...Or rather, Tom's.
He appears in Harry's office, stands beside him during Auror raids, comments on paperwork, and whispers in his ear whenever a mission reminds Harry of the war.
He even manages to ruin a date with Ginny.
Harry apologizes so much afterward that Ginny has to reassure him it isn't his fault. She understands better than most. The diary left its own scars, and she still has nightmares too. Somewhere along the way, their relationship quietly shifts into a deep friendship built on surviving the same monster.
Hermione eventually convinces Harry to seek professional help at St. Mungo's.
Twice a week, therapy.
Potions exactly as prescribed.
Grounding exercises.
Exposure therapy in carefully controlled doses.
Harry throws himself into recovery with the same determination he once used to fight Voldemort.
He'll get through this.
He always does.
The treatment helps.
Tom appears less often.
The panic fades more quickly.
Harry even learns to joke about it.
The healer suggests calling him "Tom" instead of Voldemort to lessen the emotional response.
Harry can't help thinking that's funny.
Merlin... if he'd done that years ago, he would've been Avada Kedavra'd on the spot.
And Harry keeps calling him Tom.
Tom still appears sometimes.
Still whispers.
Still sends Harry's heart racing.
Eventually Harry starts talking back.
Mostly sarcastic comments until Tom finally shuts up.
—
Unfortunately, real life isn't giving him much room to recover.
With Voldemort's downfall, the remaining Death Eaters have become headless snakes lashing out in every direction. Terrorist attacks happen almost daily, Auror Headquarters is drowning in paperwork, and everyone is exhausted.
"Your report is incomplete."
"I've been writing it for three hours."
"You skipped page four."
"...."
...Merlin.
Harry even complains directly to Tom about how annoying his followers are.
"Your idiots are making everyone's life miserable."
Tom hears him complaining.
Harry swears Tom almost laughs.
"They're hardly my followers anymore."
—
Aurors are collapsing asleep at their desks.
Some fall asleep halfway through eating lunch.
"You forgot your medication."
"I didn't"
"You left it on your desk."
"..."
...Damn it.
Harry keeps postponing therapy appointments.
There simply isn't enough time.
—
The problem is...
Exposure therapy is supposed to happen in controlled doses.
Harry accidentally turned it into a full-time job.
Every report reminds him of the war.
Every investigation leads back to Voldemort.
Every day begins with Tom standing somewhere in the room.
It becomes routine.
Tom complains.
Harry rolls his eyes.
Tom is there for all of it.
"You call that handwriting?"
"It says the man with no nose."
"I had perfectly acceptable handwriting."
"You had atrocious penmanship."
Eventually...
Harry stops reacting.
He figures that means he's getting better.
—
Tom eyes the cup coffee.
"You've had three cups of coffee."
"So?"
"You'll regret the fourth."
"I'm having the fourth."
"You always do."
—
He stops going out with Ron and Hermione.
He misses grabbing butterbeer with his friends after work.
Most nights dinner is instant noodles, which Tom never lets him live down.
"That's dinner?"
"It's edible."
"I've seen Azkaban prisoners eat better."
"You don't even eat anymore. Your opinion doesn't count."
—
Then the nightmares come back.
He sleeps at his desk.
Forgets to eat.
Starts surviving almost entirely on coffee, potions, and terrible life choices.
The Head Auror tells him to take a break.
Harry insists he's fine.
Everyone is tired.
He's just... a little more tired than usual.
He starts surviving on sleeping potions.
They help him fall asleep.
They don't help him stay asleep.
He wakes in the middle of the night with paperwork still clutched in his hands.
He can't remember the last proper meal he had.
He sniffs his robes and decides they probably don't smell bad enough to wash yet.
—
Harry believes PTSD is simply something he'll have to live with.
He believes the exhaustion, the interrupted sleep, the emotional outbursts, and the hallucinations are all part of recovery.
He has no idea that someone is taking advantage of every skipped therapy session.
Every sleepless night.
Every dose of sleeping potion.
Every moment Harry mistakes the impossible for trauma.
Because Voldemort never truly disappeared.
The connection forged between them survived the Battle of Hogwarts.
A fragment of Tom remained inside Harry.
Patient.
Silent.
Waiting.
While Harry struggles to recover from PTSD, Tom quietly teaches him to normalize his presence.
To stop questioning the voice.
The conversations.
The figure standing in the corner of the
room.
The feeling of never truly being alone.
Little by little, Harry grows comfortable with him.
One morning, waking up with Tom's arms wrapped around him won't even seem strange anymore.
And by then...
Tom will already have everything he wanted.
A body.
A home.
And a second chance to return to the world—without Harry ever realizing he had been helping him all along.
