Harry picked up his order and walked out of the door, pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders. The winters always seemed to compliment his mood nowadays. Briefly he thought about going back to his flat a few streets over, but Hermione threatened to come over and make sure he wasn't moping.

And he wasn't… per se. He just wasn't up to feeling as happy as everyone said he should be. Moving his feet into action, the slush on the ground was as grey as the robes he wore, and he wondered if Dumbledore had lived any longer would his beard touch the ground. Morbid thoughts…

A few witches passed him on the other side of the street, and unfortunately he took that opportunity to glance up. The same stupid thing that always happened did, they pointed and shrieked, and waved… and he ignored them as he had to balance his dinner and step over a snow drift that was looking like a depressed, obese snowman.

There weren't many people on the street, for which he was obliged. It gave him time to think of where he was going to go to eat a meal in peace. A place where he didn't have to defend the fact that he was still uninterested in dating; and hear that his best friend's sister was still somewhat sort of pining for him. Bad for digestion.

Rounding the corner, he slipped on a patch of ice cleverly disguised underneath a mass of snow, and found himself grasping an arm that steadied him as he tried not to throw his dinner over his shoulder out of reflex. "Thanks, I appreciate it." He looked up and blinked as he steadied himself. "Angelina?"

She smiled and shrugged. "I believe so. Harry, how are you?"

"I have dinner. I should be happy for the next hour or so." He retorted, looking back at her in curiosity. "I haven't seen you since Fred's funeral."

"Well, what can I say? I went back to live with my parents for a while. At least if you can't have real protection, you go for imagined. At least I slept there."

"Sleep can be hard to come by." Harry agreed, and Angelina pushed the white cloak hood up over her head. "I'm sorry; I'm acting like a prat, carrying on a conversation in the cold like it's not snowing out here. Where are you off to?"

"I think I'm hungry, but do you ever think about food and promptly lose your appetite?"

"Often."

"I guess that's how you kept your figure." She winked and he found himself laughing harshly.

"Yeah. Well, a gift from my Aunt and Uncle. I don't feel the urge to get as large as their fat son."

"I think the witches of the world want you skinny. They all have the secret urge to fatten you up."

"Do they… well; they can just… oh forget it." He finished, shrugging. "I don't have a snappy come back for that one right now."

"Well no wonder. You're starving, so the brainpower is functioning slower than normal. Besides, I wouldn't doubt that you have a large store of comebacks. I remember the press conference after the last battle. You had them firing rapidly then." Angelina's face took on one of slight pleasure as she thought back. "You made Slughorn's arm shake as he gave you your medal."

"I wanted to shove it up his arse." Harry steamed, and opened his collar as he felt the heat of his anger take away the bite of the cold.

"I'm glad you didn't. It would have made for an interesting article, I do believe. I'm not going to keep you anymore Harry. I know you're hungry, and you were probably on the way home."

"I'm not actually. On the way home that is. I'm actually looking for a place to eat so that I don't have to go to the flat just yet." He confided, kicking around a rock that he uncovered with the toe of his boot.

"Why don't you just eat in the restaurant?" She asked, quizzical.

"I don't like doing that. People look, and I glare, and they want an autograph… and I don't feel like that today. Not ever really, but especially today." He passed the food sack to the other hand and flexed his fingers.

"Why don't you come back to my place? It's private, and no one will bother you." Harry opened his mouth and closed it.

"Thanks… are you sure?" Angelina nodded, waving him off.

"Just give me a second to get something to eat myself, and we can apparate to my house."

"Honestly, I have enough for two. They always give me more than what I ask for, or pay for. I stopped debating with them a while ago." He smiled and opened the bag. "I'm definitely willing to share if you like Indian."

"Indian? I love Indian. I didn't know you liked it though." Harry shrugged.

"I had Chinese yesterday." She laughed and took his offered arm, and in the next heartbeat he was standing before quite a large house. "This is where you live?"

"Yep." Angelina opened the door and wiped her feet on the map, taking off her cloak and putting it on the rack. "Here, let me take yours." Harry shook the snow off and handed it over, making sure to wipe his feet on the mat. He watched her take off her boots, and she looked up, feeling his gaze on her back. "I'm sorry; you have to take your shoes off. It's a habit that I kept from my parents."

"Uh…" Harry faltered, wondering if he could bolt now and not offend his friend.

"I don't think you want to take off your shoes." Angelina guessed from the look of pure terror on his face. "The floors are clean… I have muggle help that comes to clean everyday. She finished about half an hour ago… so I know that everything's spotless. .." He laughed and shook his head.

"I've ended up with a few habits of my own. I don't take off my shoes unless I'm home. I don't know when I'm going to have to run." She smiled sadly.

"We've all picked up some wartime habits. It's been four years… maybe it's time we broke them."

"You're right." He slipped out of his boots and put them underneath his cloak and shrugged. "I'm not dead yet, so far so good."

"I'm so glad." Angelina motioned down the hall. "Let's eat in the kitchen. The dining room is only for special occasions." Harry followed her down the hall and laughed slightly.

"I'm not a special occasion?" He asked, sounding injured. "If I'm not a special occasion, I don't know what is!"

"Well, since I'm not enraptured by your fame, you'll have to forgive me. You don't hold the ignorant to the same standards as people who should know better." She joked feebly.

"So what constitutes a special occasion?" Harry asked again as they passed the semi dark room of the formal dining area. There was a long table; with two place settings… they didn't look as if they were touched.

"My anniversary." Angelina ignored the mortified hush behind her and turned into the kitchen, turning the lights on she pulled out two glasses and a bottle of firewhiskey, while Harry put the food on the table and started to unload it. "So what brings you to London? Last time I heard you were living in Wales."

"Next time you read the Prophet, discount whatever they say about me. I went to Wales for two weeks. Just two weeks. I was sent on assignment, just a routine Death Eater sighting."

"People are still calling those in?" She asked, sitting down and pouring both glasses to the brim.

"They've picked up as of late, and Slughorn doesn't want to make the same mistakes as Fudge… especially since I have all intentions of making sure that he doesn't."

"At least you're making a difference. I feel like a blob sometimes. I can't appear to move on." A brief but deep drink of the firewhiskey let Angelina hold her bearings as she fought through the uprising of emotion.

"Don't be like that. We all know that… your loss was a bolt from the blue. It was to all of us, so we know it will take some time to get over." Harry said charitably, passing her half of the food. "No one expected him to go like that."

"I know. But everyone treats me like an invalid… and I think it sunk in." Breaking open the samosa, she inhaled the curry smell and smiled. "I do love Indian food."

"I couldn't have it every night though. It gives me horrible heartburn." Harry laughed, and relaxed enough to take an enthusiastic swallow of his drink.

"I guess I grew out of that. My father loves Indian food. My mother on the other hand, doesn't. She's more into Italian."

"How are your parents?"

"Happy that I'm out of the public life now. They want me to move back in with them. So they can watch me day and night. That's why I moved out. I traded the Prophet reporters for my own parents."

"Well, you married Fred, and he was a prominent figure." Harry sighed.

"To everyone but him. Everything was so arraigned… life insurance that I didn't know about, let alone needed… I just wonder."

"Don't." Harry said severely. "It doesn't help."

"Ginny didn't die in vain. It wasn't your fault. Neither was Neville or Dean." Angelina sat back in her chair and shrugged. "You can't be everywhere at once."

"But I'm the Great Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived and all that rubbish. I'm supposed to do the impossible." He said acrimoniously.

"You did. You got Voldermort. That's more than enough."

"And yet I wonder. I hate this. I hate my life. It's like a shell to me. Not really mine." He reached over and grabbed the bottle, pouring them both refills. "I didn't know you drank this much." Angelina took her glass and knocked it back with the ease of the practiced.

"It helps when going along memory lane."

"If I'm going, it's kicking and screaming." Harry took a judicious drink from his goblet and smiled. She laughed at the look on his face.

"Why Harry, I didn't know you would scream."

"I didn't say it would be me screaming." Angelina sobered up slightly at that comment, and sighed, pulling the bottle closer. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to be stupid." He said seriously, taking her wrist. She bit her lip and looked down at his hand.

"Oh Harry, in Hogwarts, the whole world looked bright and shining, and we just knew, that no matter what, the people we needed would be there for us always. No matter what."

"It didn't work that way. I wish every day it did."

"So why don't you want to go home?" Angelina asked, changing the subject and putting the bottle down. Harry shrugged.

"Because Hermione is the same Hermione. She wants me to find someone to settle down with. But she doesn't know that marriage isn't for everyone. I'm happy for her and Ron, I really am, but since we're so close… I guess that she wants me to be married too."

"It's good that you're so close to them still. Trauma drives people apart sometimes."

"But from time to time it draws them together."

>

"…and so he looked down at the hole in his pants and said, "Oh, where do you think I'm going?" I could have died." Angelina had her head buried in her arms, shoulders quaking. Her hair totally obscured her face, so Harry went on the guess that she was laughing.

Looking up, he was right. She wiped her eyes and sighed, sitting back in her chair. "I totally forgot about that day. I swear, George could turn absolutely anything around for his benefit. Alicia hated it when they argued, because she would always end up apologizing, even if he was wrong. She used to bitch to me about it. What could I do? He was my husband's twin."

"I hated to quarrel with him too. I saw them the other day. I went down to the shop to say hi. Pregnancy agrees with Alicia."

"She's a beautiful mother to be. I dropped by last weekend. I didn't stay long… too many memories." Harry nodded and rolled the goblet between his hands. They were through eating, and were down to straight drinking. "Ugh, I'm zonked."

"No, you passed zonked at least a half hour ago." Angelina rolled her eyes and stood up, albeit a bit shakily.

"And you so didn't stop me. I'm going to bed before I fall on my face." She smiled and leaned over the table to give Harry a kiss on the cheek. "Besides, I see two of you now."

"I'd see seventeen of you if I took my glasses off." He touched the spot that her lips brushed and blushed slightly. "Thanks for the drink and the company."

"No problem. I'd like to see more of you… but only one of you, if you know what I mean."

"Same here." Harry rubbed his temples and groaned. "I drank entirely too much. My head is killing me."

"Then stay. I have five bedrooms in this place, and all but one is empty. Pick a room any room. Then you can head out after you've woken up. I don't want to be the reason why you're on the front page of Prophet for apparating into some poor witch's bedroom."

"Is she dressed in a nighty?" He joked. Angelina laughed.

"Of course. It's sheer and everything."

"Then I'm going to head off." Harry laughed and stood, and promptly sat down. "Or not. I'll take you up on that offer to collapse here, if it's all the same to you. I don't think I want to be moving around right now."

"I understand. The bedrooms are upstairs on the right. You and my cousin are the same size, so in the blue bedroom there should be some pajamas."

"Great. I don't really want to sleep in these robes."

"I'm sure. I'm off." He watched her leave, and looked back at the almost finished bottle of firewhiskey before him.

"Doesn't make sense to save this…" Harry said as he poured the rest into his glass.

> > > > >

Harry pulled on the pajama pants and was thankful that the house was slightly cool, because he was extremely hot and tired, exhaustion setting in… and the firewhiskey wearing off. Wandering around the hall, he poked his head into the bedrooms, discounting each until he came to the last one on the left.

It was a beautiful green in various shades, a large bed against the far wall. The room was spacious, and the balcony had a striking view of a full moon and snow on the ground. The surrounding forest was a contrast of green and white, and it brought him into the room.

Closing it behind him, he walked over to the bed and took off his glasses, stretching and putting them on the nightstand beside the bed. Slipping under the covers, he turned over and stopped, shocked.

Angelina was buried almost up to her head under the covers. What was wrong with him? He came into her bedroom! Cursing his bad luck, he went for his glasses and tried to move out of the bed as quietly as he could. Inching backwards, he managed to get his foot on the floor before slipping and landing on his butt. Groaning, he felt around for his specs, while pulling out his wand. He heard the tinkle of broken glass, and the spell to repair his lenses was on his lips.

"Oculus Reparo. Harry, of all the rooms…" Angelina pushed his glasses onto his face, and he smiled at her sheepishly.

"I know, I'm sorry. I didn't see you there. I must be more inebriated than I thought." He said, standing up quickly and stowing his wand. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

"It's okay. I would have started with the nightmares by now anyway, so you saved me the trouble."

"I'm going to leave you- nightmares?" Harry frowned. "What are you having nightmares about?"

"Everything and nothing. I'm okay Harry."

"Don't want to chat about it?"

"Oh, so you did see the sign on my forehead." Angelina smiled, bringing her knees up to her chest. "You don't have to go so soon. We can just sit and talk if you want."

"Sure."

"Alright. Get up here before your feet freeze to the floor. I keep it kind of cold at night. If it's too warm I can't sleep." She offered an explanation while moving back the covers beside her.

"I noticed. But it's pleasant." He assured her, sliding under the covers gratefully.

"I'm glad." The conversation that they endeavored to have was stilled, and Harry scratched his head.

"I guess we should just try and go to sleep then. Whatever I was going to say I've forgotten. The firewhiskey must still have a hold on me." Angelina yawned and laid back.

"Okay. I'll go pick another bedroom." She shook her head.

"No need really. I trust you, and I don't really want to be alone right now. At least stay until I fall asleep?" Harry smiled shakily.

"Okay. No problem." He took off his glasses and put them again on the nightstand, leaning back against the headboard. "I see no reason why I can't rest my eyes here."

"Good." The sleep was thick in her voice, and Angelina yawned. "Thank you Harry."

"Your welcome."

>

Harry had his wand out before he totally surfaced from the nightmare. The majority of the battle cries died from his hearing except one. A quiet sobbing… one that shoved him into the world of the waking. Picking up his glasses, he didn't put his wand down until Voldermort's dying face faded from his mind's eye. But the lament didn't cease, and he turned to see it was Angelina.

She was still sleep… but tears were slipping down her cheeks. In the moonlight, the anguish that was always just behind her eyes was naked on her face, and Harry wanted to turn away, if it didn't make so much sense to him. He didn't want to lie anymore. Not to himself, and not to anyone else.

He was still looking when Angelina opened her eyes to stare into his. "It still hurts." She whispered, wiping the tears from her face. Harry nodded.

"I know."

"No matter what I do, if I'm happy, I feel guilty, if I'm sad, I feel like I'm not grateful I'm alive… and if I feel nothing… I feel like… I feel like…"She broke off.

"You feel like you're dying." He finished, looking at the ceiling, unseeing. "You feel like if you can keep this balance, then maybe you can live with yourself…"

"And maybe other people's happiness could be enough for you. That maybe your happiness was past. Maybe you used yours up and you don't get another chance, because last time it was absolutely perfect." Harry sighed and tucked back a lock of hair that had fallen onto her cheek. She had taken down her braids after she and Fred became man and wife, and he told her on her wedding day that it suited her. It still did.

"You're going to have to stop reading my mind." Harry said semiseriously, tracing the graceful line of her cheek down to her neck, and felt her pulse flutter under his fingertips. "Can we be fixed?"

"Do we want to be?" Angelina asked him back, closing her eyes against the sensation of his finger drawing down her collarbone.

"I want you to be fixed." He spoke honestly before he realized it, and her eyes flew open once more, and for the first time in a while, he wasn't afraid to look back, because what he saw was what he felt.

"What about you?" She asked, and he was suddenly closer, and it didn't bother her. "Don't you want to be fixed?"

"It's easier to hope for someone else, than yourself. I stopped trying a long time ago." Harry was obsessed with her skin. He didn't want to stop touching it now that he was. How it was possible it could hold back such grief was impossible and intriguing at the same time. "I don't have to lie to you." It hung in the cold air of the early morning and her eyes fluttered shut as Harry's fingers touched the sensitive spot behind her earlobe.

"I don't have to pretend to be happy around you." Goodness… his eyes were greener than her comforter.

"You shouldn't have to pretend to be happy."

"You shouldn't have to lie to people."

"It's far easier than facing the truth." He wanted to kiss her now… that was realized a while ago. But what stopped him was that he felt that it would be taking advantage of her. And that was something he didn't want.

"You're going to stop blaming yourself. I see it you know. I carry the weight of one, and you carry all five thousand." Angelina reached up and touched his cheek and brought his face lower to hers. "I feel your grief like a burden."

"Sometimes I don't want to live." Harry confessed, and leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. It was chaste, gentle, and full of craving. Within that kiss they stripped away all that was built up to protect them from the world and themselves, revealing their soul to the quick. She pulled away as the last layer fell, and was ashamed of what he would see. He held her still, and with his eyes tried to tell her in his eyes, in all of her grief, she was beautiful.

"You have to find something to live for." Angelina sighed and kissed him again. "Something."

"Hypocrite." Harry couldn't get enough of her kisses; it was like diving into a refreshing pool, leaving everything behind that weighed his soul down. Breaking away for oxygen, he smiled at the look of desire on her face. It was nice to see when it wasn't beleaguered with awe of his fame. "You're gorgeous Angelina…"

"Flattery is nice to hear after such a long time." She said, pushing his hair back from his scar, which was as livid as ever. "You're a looker too."

"After such a long time? You, at the ripe old age of twenty three?" He teased, pulling her closer. Angelina leaned her head against his chest and closed her eyes.

"I feel old sometimes."

"I know. So do I." Harry smiled into her hair and enjoyed the closeness. The silence stretched until his eyes closed, asleep once more.

> > > > >

Angelina smiled and held out a cup of her strongest coffee as Harry stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing his head and groaning. "Good morning. Take this."

"I don't want coffee. I want to blot out the sun." He groused, sitting down at the table and putting his head in his arms.

"But you want this. It will wake you up." She tried again, setting it in front of him on the table. Harry pushed it away and groaned.

"I really am going to blot out the sun. Why do you sound so chipper?"

"Because I have learned to make the hang over cure." Before Angelina could say anything else Harry knocked back the contents of the mug as if it were salvation liquefied.

"Oh…bloody lovely. I could kiss you right now." He said happily before he realized. "I mean…"

"What do you want for breakfast? It's been ages since I've had an overnight visitor. It will be nice to cook something for a change." She changed the subject deftly, pulling out a frying pan. "I've got eggs… and ham. If you want I can whip up an omelet. I even have cheese, I'm sure. In the refrigerator. I have wine, so I know I have cheese." Angelina could have cursed. She was babbling now. Turning around, she dropped the pan, and Harry caught it. "You move entirely too quiet for your own good."

"It's something that's kept me alive." He put the pan on the counter and braced his arms on either side of her body. "Now, are we going to talk about what happened last night?"

"I shouldn't have drunk so much." That wasn't what she wanted to say, and the hurt she was allowed to see cut her audacity down to size.

"That's it then? We're going to blame it on the liquor then? Fine." Harry realized that came out a bit angrier than he thought he felt, but he kept her locked in between his arms. He was a good deal stronger now, due to the Auror training, and he looked her in the eye.

"Don't look at me like that."

"I thought I knew you." I thought I knew your grief.

"After one and a half drunken conversations?" Angelina said shakily, putting her hands on his forearms. She didn't remember him feeling this muscled before. He wasn't bulky, but he was fit… she could feel the strength in his arms, the way the cords were jumping underneath the sleeves.

"What are you playing at? I can't accept dodging from you…not anymore, not after last night." Stepping closer, Harry enjoyed the sound of her breath hitching in her throat. Her liquid brown eyes looked back at him with what he felt everyday, necessary restraint.

"What am I supposed to say?"

"The truth." He let his nose brush against hers, and Angelina didn't fight the urge to bring her hands to Harry's shoulders.

"The truth is, honestly, I haven't found myself so attracted to someone since." He didn't ask since what.

"Can we see where this goes?" She smelled nice, and at the hollow of her throat he enjoyed raking his teeth over the skin he found.

"Uh… no promises."

"No promises. No lies either." Angelina smiled and felt her pulse quicken as his hands left the counter and came to her hips. She could feel the heat from his hands through the thin black linen pants she wore.

"I promise no lies." An intended mangling of words.

"Can I kiss you now?" Harry asked; his self control almost shredded to pieces.

"I think so." He fell on her lips hungrily, as if she was nourishment, and Angelina welcomed him. When they pulled apart Harry was laughing, and she was smiling. "What's so funny?"

"My chest doesn't feel tight." She looked concerned.

"Does it always feel tight?"

"Usually. It's easier to exist at night."

"Isn't that the truth." Angelina rested her chin on his shoulder and sighed.

"What's wrong?" He asked, rubbing her back in slow circles.

"I just don't want to leave. But you have work, and today I promised Oliver that I would come and check out his plays for Puddlemere. I need to get going."

"Am I going to see you again?" The hesitancy in Harry's voice made her close her eyes.

"I said no promises."

"You also promised not to lie."

"We must be in a relationship, because you're already turning my words against me."

"So what's the answer?"

"Meet me here tonight, when you get off… or later if you want. Are you going to show up?" It was her turn to put her heart on the line.

"We'll see, won't we?"

"Don't be cruel."

"I'm sorry. My sarcasm has an edge that I need to work on. Of course I'll be here." Angelina pulled back and looked him in the eye.

"The key is under the mat. It has a simple charm on it, so only if I give verbal permission for you to enter, will you be able to even see the key."

"That's pretty sophisticated."

"I have had reason to fear what I didn't anticipate." She said dryly.

"Of course. Well, let me go."

"I'm not holding you here."

"That's not what I meant; it just came out that way. And yes, you are holding me here." He kissed her again briefly before shoving off of the counter and her body, and resolutely walking out of the room. Angelina held her breath as the steps became faint… and counted to five in her head before the door slammed. Harry was gone, and she was suddenly scared.

"Get a grip woman. You're a grown up. You're not allowed to fall to pieces." Smiling, she poured the rest of the coffee down the sink and tried to still the shaking in her hands. Excitement was a foreign feeling to her now. A laugh escaped her lips before she realized she was about to laugh… and the tightness in her chest became loose. The mug that sat forgotten in her hands dropped to the sink, and the clunk brought her back to reality.

> > > > >

"You still haven't told me what's bothering you."

"The beater formations are off." Angelina rubbed out the two routes and redrew them. "See, you were leaving the fourth plane open during the whole play. You've already told me that Stossel and Donovan cannot think on their broom. How they got this far I'll never know." Oliver's eyebrow was almost to his hairline.

"I'll have you know that on paper I've already corrected that."

"Of course you did." He glared at the ponytail that lay at the base of her skull until she turned around. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because you still haven't told me what's crawled up your arse."

"Stop looking at my arse."

"Why? You wore the pants, I didn't tell you to wear them." Oliver smiled and shrugged. "So what's wrong?"

"Nothing really… it's just… I…" Angelina laughed slightly and sat down next to him, slouching until she could rest her chin on her chest. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course." He turned to her and regarded her seriously. "I knew something was wrong."

"Not wrong per se… more like I want to know if something is wrong. I know it's been three years…" She laughed again, but tears were forming in her eyes. Wiping them away angrily, Angelina exhaled, angry with herself. "I don't know why I can't get this out without crying."

"Oh, Angie love…" Oliver knelt on the ground in front of her, taking her hands in his. "I know what you're gong to say."

"I'm a bad person, aren't I?"

"Why? Why would you think that?"

"Because it's been only three years." The tears were flowing freely now. He rubbed her arms and shook his head.

"No dearie, don't look at it like that. It's been three years since he's been taken from us, and you were only married two years."

"It seems like longer."

"I know."

"And shorter."

"Know that too." Oliver sighed and stood up, pulling Angelina with him. "I will personally kiss anyone who has made you smile, that has made you ask that question. Know without a doubt that Fred loved you, and you loved Fred."

"I do."

"Good. Now hang on to this bloke, whoever he is."

"Okay."

"So who is he?" She laughed and shook her head, wiping her nose on her hand. "Aye, Angelina, I do have a hanky… so you don't have to use the back of your hand. And such a pretty hand it is." Oliver rolled his eyes and produced said handkerchief with a flourish.

"I'm not telling. I don't want to spook him."

"I don't think I want you dating him if he scares that easily." She looked at him as if he were crazy.

"Do you honestly think I'm going to give you his name? You've let one too many bludgers at the old noggin."

"I'll find out."

"I'm sure you will. I'm seriously glad for you." Angelina sighed and hugged him happily.

"And the scariest part is Oliver… I am too."

> > > > >

"No way."

"But a best mate can tell these things. Someone's got you happy."

"Are you done?"

"No. You whistled!"

"And your point?"

"My point is that you actually look as if you're going to be civil to people today. Besides me, 'Mione, and Luna." Luna Lovegood stopped by the Ministry often to see her friends when she had a moment of relief from rotations at St. Mungos. Ron finished tying up his trainers and took a good look at Harry. "Did you get shagged last night?"

"Are you ready?" He asked irritably. "Senior Auror Whitman said the training exercise would start in ten minutes."

"So we have ten minutes."

"That was five minutes ago."

"Oh. So hurry up, and give me my one word answer. Yes or no."

"No."

"I don't believe you."

"You wouldn't. Come on." Ron allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, and they walked out of the locker room and down the hall to the training room. IT was a specifically designed to magically morph into almost any scenario imagined, complete with foes that acted on their own.

"He's going to want to pair us with someone else."

"He's been trying to do that for as long as we've been in training. It didn't work then, and it's not going to work now." Harry said firmly, pushing the big double doors that led to the room. "He should know that already."

"I should know what Mr. Potter?" Ron froze as they came face to face with their commanding officer. Senior Auror Verbatim Whitman was a man about Ron's height, with graying at the temples of his blond head. He wasn't muscular, but fit, on the same regimen as the Junior Aurors he trained.

"Sir?" Harry asked smoothly, raising an eyebrow in question.

"I believe you were saying I should know something by now." He shook his head and looked at the other man in the eye.

"Are you saying I misheard?" They had captured all the attention of the rest of the class. Ron sighed and looked down at his feet. What was this guy's problem?

"Yes sir." Harry said cheerfully. Whitman's nostrils flared and he stepped closer, intending on invading Harry's personal space. But his nose crashed into the shield he manifested. "Potter! Who told you to shield?" He yelled, after being forced to stumble backwards of fall down.

"I apologize sir. You'll have to forgive me, its habit." Ron smiled hugely, suppressing the laugh behind his lips.

"In line Potter."

"Of course sir." The spot next to Ron had been vacated upon his arrival, as normal, and Harry slid in, face inscrutable.

"Before we were so rudely interrupted, I was preparing you for the series we all call "worse case scenarios" There will be no way to get out of these situations with a total and clean win, so the object is to lose as little as possible. Got it? You'll be divided into teams of four. Pick your teams, and I suggest you try and pick people you normally won't find yourself paired with. Alright, find your partners and go to the observation deck. We'll watch each team's progress from there. I will be pointing out what each person is doing wrong to the class, and when the team is done, I'll give them the points that need improvement. Dismissed. Each team picks up a number before you go to the deck." Whitman turned and glanced down at his clipboard as everyone looked around for partners.

Ron smiled and pulled on the robes of a fellow Auror, Andais McCleary, and Harry nabbed a shy man, Douglas Rhodes, great with offensive hexes when he wasn't being yelled at. Rushing up to the observation deck, Harry looked down at the other teams forming slowly, and looked back at Ron. "I promise you, I don't want to do this today."

"But everyone's under the impression that the Great Harry Potter loves battle scenarios." Rhodes smiled, more at ease since he could safely watch Whitman from above.

"Yeah, you would think that." He retorted, letting his head lean against the transparent glass. Harry was hot under the collar… he wanted to see Angelina right now. This couldn't be good for him, dreaming about a woman at work. A woman with amazing hips and lips that wouldn't quit and… "What! What did you say Ron?"

"I said we have number 4. But watch, we're going to be either first or last." He looked at his friend strangely. "Where were you?"

"What do you mean?"

"He asked why you were so far away into your thoughts." McCleary asked, settling into one of the hard seats on the first row. Another group of four came in and found seats, and Harry, Ron and Douglas quickly sat down around Andais. The room started to change as the rest of the class found seats.

Harry was picking with the knee of his trousers when he heard Ron's strangled gasp. He looked up at his red headed friend in slight question until he followed his gaze. Standing up, his face was livid. "Alright, first up number 3. Like I said, just do your best." Whitman looked at Harry. "Mr. Potter, sit down unless you want your team to go first."

"We're not going down there. Don't you think it's kind of cruel?" Ron asked, pointing towards the grounds of Hogwarts as they looked in the middle of the last battle. Even down to the dead, Ron could recognize some of them. "We were there! We did all we could!"

"Did you now? So suddenly Mr. Weasley, you have the knowledge to encompass all human reaction and speculate as to how everyone in this room would take care of the situation?" Harry was breathing deeply in his chest, trying to fight the rise of the ghosts in his head, but he was failing. "Like I said, you and Mr. Potter can just sit down! This is a verified battle scenario, and we will use it for training!"

"No."

"Excuse me Mr. Potter?"

"I said no. I refuse."

"You don't have a choice. Either you do it or-" Harry reared back and smashed his fist into Whitman's mouth, smiling cruelly at the wetness of blood on his knuckles. The older man was knocked to the ground, and Harry was above him, fuming.

"I quit." Ron blinked as he walked out of the room, before sighing and shaking his head.

"This isn't right. After all he did, after all we did, and everyone we lost that day… you'd do this. I can't stay here either." Whitman wiped his mouth and spat out blood as Ron stepped over him and walked out of the exit.

"Don't think you can come back here after that! You can't just hit your commanding officer and think there won't be consequences!" Harry shook his head and slammed the door behind him.