After Hogwarts, after training, once they start going on missions almost everyday between official Ministry work and the ones Dumbledore sent them on, Alice is wholly drained. She's physically exhausted when she gets home, but even more she's so tired of this fucked up world.
She's becoming cynical. She's becoming cynical about being cynical.
But it's hard not to when all your friends, all your colleagues are dying.
She feels horrible because it doesn't affect her like it does the others- she doesn't cry, she doesn't yell or scream or react at all. She goes on. She feels empty, but she goes on, for Frank, for Neville.
One night when she can't sleep after putting Neville down, sitting in the small living room with her knees tucked into her elbows, it all comes out.
James and Lily are dead. For two days now.
She can't even begin to comprehend how that boy, that messy-haired little boy, who had no idea how much he meant to her, to the whole sodding world, could be an orphan, how James and Lily could be gone like they'd never even been there to begin with.
The tears keep coming, quietly, but steadily, as she feels Frank, woken from the light, sit next to her. He doesn't say anything when she lets out the first audible sob, just pulls her onto his lap, stroking her hair, her legs clutching onto him. He kisses her gently and she wipes furiously at the tears, desperately wishing the kiss would make them stop.
When she's reduced to sniffling and the shaking's mostly done, he walks her back to bed, and the trace of what might have been a smile in years past, when they were happier, appears on her lips when he nuzzles up to her under the covers.
Not many days later Bellatrix Black knocks down their front door.