1.

Harry and Astoria sprinted through the streets of what used to be a small town. Their breath came out in ragged gasps and their heart pounded as the horde closed in behind them. The walkers were too close, and Harry could hear them. Their guttural growls and snapping jaws grew louder with each passing second.

"Harry!" Astoria called out, her voice tight with fear as she glanced over her shoulder.

"Keep going!" Harry shouted, keeping a tight hold of her hand as he pulled her forward. The two of them pushed their bodies to their limit. Their muscles burned but no matter how fast they ran it seemed the horde was always there.

They rounded a corner, only to find that path was blocked by another group of walkers. There was no way out. No escape.

Harry's mind raced as he desperately searched for an option. Any option that could save them.

Then, just as a walker lunged at Astoria, Harry acted on pure instinct. He tackled her, pushed her out of the way of the snapping teeth. They crashed through a cracked window, glass shattered around them as they tumbled into the darkened interior of the abandoned building and fell through the rotted floor.

Astoria landed on top of Harry, the wind knocked out of both of them. For a brief moment, everything went silent before the sound of their heavy breathing filled it. Harry winced as he felt the sharp sting of the glass that cut into his skin but tried to push through and focus on Astoria.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, his hand reached up to brush a stray piece of glass from her hair.

Astoria nodded, her breath still shaky as she looked down at him, her hand resting on either side of his face.

"I'm fine," she whispered in relief.

Harry managed a tight grimace, relieved that for a moment that they were safe. AS they lay there, Harry' hair shifted to reveal a jagged scar that marred in skin. Astoria's finger gently brushed his hair aside to get a closer look.

"This scar," she said as she traced the lightning-shaped marked with a fingertip, "how did you get it?"

Harry hesitated for a moment as the memories of that night flashed through his mind, "It's…from a long time ago," he began, his voice somber, "Back before Sirius and Remus found me, I was with another group. Their leader was…delusional. He had decided that killing me would lead to the end of the walkers. He crept into my room one night and started to carve into my head."

Harry blinked back tears. He refused to let them fall, "My screams woke up my mom and she managed to save me, but he got a few licks in as well and she didn't make it," he finished with a croak and Astoria could see the weight of the memories that still haunted him in his eyes.

Her gaze lingered on the scar, her heart ached at the thought of a young Harry who had been through too much, before they had even met. She leaned down, her lip brushed softly against the scar as if trying to heal the echo of pain.

A distant moan broke through their bubble. It grew louder as the horde outside moved closer. Astoria pulled back, her eyes wide with alarm as the reality of their situation crashed into her.

"We have to go," she said urgently, and Harry didn't need to be told twice.

2.

The sun dipped low in the sky as Harry and Astoria drove down the empty road. The cracked asphalt was littered with rusted, abandoned cars, broken glass, and the occasional rotted corpse and skeletal remains. The only sounds were the hum of the engine and the rush of wind through the open windows.

Astoria glanced over at Harry, who was focused on the road ahead, his expression unreadable at the moment. His hair was tousled by the wind and the sun highlighted the dark shadows under his eyes. He looked tired. Worn.

As her eyes drifted over him, she noticed a large scar on his forearm, jagged and angry. It was a stark contrast to his otherwise pale skin. She hadn't seen it before and with the silence in the car, her curiosity quickly got the better of her.

"How'd you get that scar?" she asked.

Harry glanced over at her and then down at his forearm. A small rueful smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"This? Well, that's a bit of story," he said, his voice filled with amusement.

Astoria raised an eyebrow to urge her to continue. They had time, after all, and any story that could make Harry smile, even for just a little, was worth hearing.

Harry huffed, "This was back at the beginning of the outbreak. Before we really knew what we were dealing with. Ron had this brilliant idea that taking up shelter in a zoo would be a great way to survive. His logic was that we could kill and eat the animals. Sounded good, I suppose."

"A zoo?"

"Yeah," Harry laughed breathily, "Looking back, it was a terrible idea, but we were young and desperate, and didn't know any better. We figured the animal would be locked up, so it'd be safe. But we didn't take into account anyone that was already there and the chaos a walker attack would lead to in the zoo."

Astoria leaned close, captivated, "What happened?"

"We got there just after sunrise. Ron was excited, going on about how we'd have a feast that night. But as soon as we got inside, we knew something was wrong. The place was too quiet, you know? Just an eerie silence," Harry said, "And then we saw it. The glass on the enclosures had been smashed open, by either walkers or fleeing humans."

A chill ran down Astoria's spin as she imagined the scene.

"We didn't know how many walkers remained, if any, so we started to move through the area carefully. I got separated from Ron and ended up in a dark enclosure. That's when I heard it. A low hissing sound. I turned around and there it was, a massive anaconda, its body coiled and ready to strike."

Astoria's breath caught, "An anaconda?"

Harry nodded, the corner of his mouth twitch up, "Yeah. It lunged at me before I could react and started to wrap itself around my body. I couldn't move. It was excruciating. Luckily Ron found me and managed to get the snake off, but that thing left behind one of its fangs imbedded in my arm."

Astoria just stared at him, a mixture of horror and admiration in her eyes.

Harry just shrugged and tried to downplay the events, "Just another day in the apocalypse, I suppose. We all have our scars, don't we?"

Astoria nodded, though she knew that most of Harry's scars went far deeper than the ones that were visible on his skin. She reached over, placed one hand on his, squeezing gently. Nothing more was said but Harry grasped her hand and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles as they drove into the fading light.

3.

Harry knelt by the riverbank, his hands worked methodically to clean the blood and grime from his clothes. His once white shirt was down a dirty grey that would never be clean again. He was tense as every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig could mean death. But for a moment, here by the river, he and Astoria found a brief respite from the road.

Astoria stood a few paces away, her eyes fixed on the rushing water, lost in thought. She watched as Harry dipped his shirt into the river, the fabric swirled in the current, and then her eyes caught something that made her breath hitch.

Beneath the ragged, grey remains of his shirt a patchwork of scars marred the skin of Harry's shoulder and upper back. The lines were jagged, uneven, some still red. Clearly it had happened recently during their brief time apart.

Harry seemed to finally notice her looking and he paused, "What's on your mind?"

She hesitated for a moment, "The scars on your shoulder…they're new."

Harry glanced down over his shoulder. He could only make out the tip of what Astoria was talking about and sighed, "Yeah…we were fighting for shelter with another group. It got ugly. Real ugly, real fast."

Astoria stepped closer, her eyes traced the lines with concern, "What happened?"

"Remus and I found this place, a church. Seemed like the perfect spot to hole up, you know? Plenty of room for everyone but clearly, we weren't the only ones who thought so. They ambushed us," Harry said, "Caught us off guard. They had this-this guy. Hugh bloke. He had a mace. Old. Rusty. But it did the job."

Astoria winced at the thought, "Is that…"

"Yeah. He got me pretty good. I didn't even see it coming. One moment I'm grappling with this guy and next thing I knew I was on the ground. Couldn't move my arm. Couldn't think straight. I though that was it for me."

Her hand instinctively reached out, her fingers grazing his shoulder as if her touch could somehow soothe the pain.

"It was Remus," Harry said with a smile, "He pulled me to safety, got us out of there. If it weren't for him, I don't think I'd be here talking to you now."

Astoria was filled with gratitude for Remus, the man who had saved Harry. Who constantly kept hope alive for their small, fractured group, "Next time I find chocolate, it's all his."

4.

Harry lay on his back, his head rested against the pillow, and Astoria was curled into his side, her head nestled against his shoulder. Her fingers were tracing absent patterns on his chest and stomach as they luxuriated in a rare moment of peace.

As her fingers glided across his skin, Astoria felt the slight ridge of an old scar, a rough, circular mark just above his right hip. She paused, her touch lingered, the question forming in her mind but before she could even as Harry spoke.

"That was a bad day," he began, "It was during a food run. I was on my own and I was scavenging in some old neighborhood. I found a few cans of beans and some stale crackers. Not much, but it was something."

He paused for a moment as the memory played out vividly in his mind, "then I heard them. The walkers. There must have been twenty of them, maybe more. I didn't have time to think. I just ran."

Astoria's fingers tightened slightly around his, her heart raced at the thought of him out there alone and afraid.

"I spotted a fence up ahead. It was tall with sharp points at the top, but I didn't have a choice. They were right behind me. I scrambled up the fence and threw myself over it before they could reach me."

He paused for a moment, "But I misjudged it. I don't know. I ended up impaled on a piece of rebar. Went right through my side."

Astoria inhaled sharply, "Harry…'

"It was bad. But I managed to pull myself off it…and somehow, I kept going. I don't know how I made it back, but I did."

Astoria leant down and pressed her lips over his scar, 'You're amazing, you that?" she whispered against his skin.

Harry shook his head, "I'm just stubborn," he murmured in response, "Too stubborn to die, I guess."

5.

Harry winced as Astoria carefully dabbed at the cut on his leg, her hands were gentle but firm. The wound wasn't deep, just a scrape from a run-in with some barbed wire while they were scavenging for supplies, but even a small cut could lead to something far worse if not tended to properly.

"There," Astoria said softly as she finished up the bandage, "That should hold for now. Try not to do anything too reckless, alright?"

Harry gave her a small, lopsided smile, "No promises, but I'll try."

As she tied off the bandage, Astoria's eyes drifted lower to the scars that marred Harry's calf. They were old, twisted and discolored. Unmistakably marks of severe burns. She frowned as she delicately brushed over the damaged skin.

"These burns…" she murmured to herself, "Where did you get them?"

Harry stiffened at the question, "During the farm fire."

Astoria's brow furrowed in confusion, "at Andromeda's farm? I was there, but I don't remember you getting hurt."

Harry shrugged, "You had a lot on your mind," he said quietly, "Daphne was injured, remember? She needed you. And then there was Molly and Arthur…losing Fred. It wasn't exactly the best time to be worrying about someone else."

Astoria's eyes softened, "You still should have said something. You matter too."

Harry looked at her, "I know that now," he said softly, "But back then…it just didn't feel right to ask for help when everyone else was suffering just as much if not more. I couldn't…I couldn't add to that."

Astoria's heart ached, "You don't have to carry it all on your own anymore," she whispered, "Not with me."

Harry closed his eyes, the warmth of her touch and the sincerity in her voice offered a comfort that he needed, "Thank you," he whispered.

+1.

Astoria dipped a chipped plate into the soapy water, her hands moved with practiced ease as she scrubbed away the remnants of their dinner. The routine was calming, almost meditative. When the plate was clean, she handed it to Harry who stood beside her ready with a towel.

It was during the exchange that he noticed it. A series of small, faint scars on the back of her hand. They were old, barely visible under the pale light that filtered in through the window. His brow furrowed as he reached out and caught her hand gently with his own. His thumb brushed across the raised bumps, an unspoken question in his touch.

Astoria stilled and she looked down at where his fingers rested, a flicker of something Harry couldn't place in her eyes.

"What happened?" Harry asked quietly, his voice filled with curiosity. He didn't demand an answer, but the curiosity was undeniable.

Astoria hesitated. The memories bubbled up, they had been long buried beneath years of survival, fighting, and loss. She hadn't thought about the days before the outbreak for years.

Finally, she let out a sigh and pulled her hand from his to wipe I on the towel, "It's a stupid story," she muttered, "Nothing important."

But Harry was persistent, his gaze never wavering.

"When I was a kid," she began her tone casual, "Daphne and I didn't always get along. We were close in age, but well sisters can be complicated."

"I had this terrible habit of stealing food off Daphne's plate whenever she wasn't looking. Didn't matter if we'd just eaten, I'd still nick something from her. Drove her mad," Astoria's lips twitched as she fought back a smile, "One night, I kept sneaking bites of her dinner. She told her to stop. I didn't. So, she stabbed me."

Harry blinked, taken aback, "Stabbed you?"

"With a fork," Astoria clarified, "I don't even think she meant to hurt me that badly, she just lost her temper. But, well, you can see the result."

Harry's lips quirked into a grin, "Quite the war wound."

"Like I said," Astoria laughed, "Stupid."

Word Count: 2,589