Well was grief and nightmares and screaming and therapy. It was not being able to think about Hogwarts without remembering the bodies and the smell and the fear. It was being broken open and not knowing how or when or even if healing would take place.
Well was awkwardness and clinginess rolled into one. It was not being sure how to relate to one another without the threat of war hanging over their heads yet wanting to stay as close as possible because they'd seen firsthand how any moment could be their last.
Well was six degrees of separation. It was hesitating to ask strangers about their family because everyone knew at least one person who had died. It was going overseas and having people flinch as soon as they heard the word Hogwarts because they knew what it meant.
Well was not knowing what it was like to be a normal child. It was knowing more about duelling than about dating. It was being socialised to see anyone wearing green as a potential threat.
Well was knowing that, even after everything, things weren't right yet. It was seeing the political mess Voldemort had left behind and knowing that it would take years to undo. It was wanting to take a break to heal but knowing that society couldn't afford it.
Well was seeing the light at the end of the tunnel and wondering whether it was simply another train. It was tentatively taking one step after another in the hope of one day moving on. It was struggling to believe they'd made it out alive, even when things finally started to settle down and normalise.
Well was marriage and renovations and friends and a nine to five. It was building a better world so the next generation wouldn't have to go through the same thing they did. It was continuing to try.
Well was hope.
Whenever anyone asked, Harry said he was going well. But it didn't always mean the same thing.