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"I never said that," Frank interjected quickly, his gaze so hard on her it was impossible to look away. No, he had never seen her this 'delusional' person that so many of their friends perceived her as. They didn't understand, or perhaps cared to sometimes, and Frank had never understood why they should be so easily allowed to judge. Besides Moody, no one really had any idea what they had gone through, what they do go through everyday on the field--- who were anyone to judge when half the Order spent their lives jobless? Let alone spending every second like it could the last?

It irritated him, angered him greatly, many things did about their life and-- it just seemed like it never ended. Why was everyone else granted pieces of normality while they had to sparingly grab for even the smallest of things, like a family dinner? How, how was that fair? Frank took a deep breath, trying his best to hold down the scalding words at the tip of his tongue. But to no avail, they escaped anyway.

"No, I don't! I think you see Jugson everyday as this nice little person at work who really----" At the end of Alice's statement, everything that Frank had been previously thinking completely wiped clean from his mind. Neville (the thought of his son had made his anger curb, and for a few seconds, he almost felt himself taken aback) Alice, Jugson, France--- all meant absolutely nothing at that point. He stared at Alice openly, his face completely frozen as an icy sensation spread across his chest.

He was not one of them. He would never come close to acting like one of them.

The scar on his left forearm gave a sickening tingle, and for the first time in a very long time, Frank's mind went back to the very clear Voldemort's encouraging words about how he and James would make the best death eaters he had ever seen. The icy feeling spread to the rest of his body, and without so much as an indication, Frank smoothly got up from the bed and walked across the room out the door, slamming it shut without even a glance back at his wife.