Moving through the crowd of triumphant freedom fighters, Harry vaguely registered when people physically walked into his path, stuck out their hands to congratulate him, rushed in to embrace him. Several girls had full-on kissed him, and his senses were too dulled to very much care about being dragged into an actual snog of gratitude, aside from hoping that Ginny was nowhere within eyeshot. He felt as though he was moving through jello, or trying to walk underwater. He had never been anywhere close to a claustrophobic, and yet he felt the uncontrollable urge to find space to stretch out, to breathe.