This is an odd fic.

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Harry threw open the door to Dumbledore's office. He was the only person who knew the current password, for some reason, and wasn't telling anyone anytime soon.

"Dumbledore! I need to talk to you!" Harry called out.

Harry shut the door behind him, and collapsed in his previously-customary chair in front of Dumbledore's desk.

"See, the thing is, you died. I don't know how to handle this! I don't know how to handle anything anymore! Even when I hated you, you were there for me! Why can't you be here for me now? You were there all my life in the wizarding world. I mean, honestly, I'm so confused I'm yelling at an empty office. Imagining you're here."

Harry glanced up at Dumbledore's sleeping portrait. "Oh sure, your portrait's here, but it's always sleeping! Just like you would, wouldn't want me becoming dependant on a stupid portrait! Always gotta be strong, didn't I?"

Harry had begun pacing around the office, yelling even though he silenced the walls so nobody could hear him. "Well, I'm not being strong! Look at me! LOOK AT ME!" Harry screamed.

"WHEN HAVE YOUR MANIPULATIONS EVER WORKED OUT FOR EVERYONE? WHY COULDN'T YOU TALK TO PEOPLE, YOU WEREN'T THE ONLY PERSON WHO GOT IT!"

"LISTEN TO PROFESSOR NIGELLUS, HE SAID 'STUDENTS, WALLOWING IN THEIR OWN SORROW, THINKING THAT THEY ALONE, UNDERSTAND..' YOU WERE ACTING LIKE A STUDENT! DUMBLEDORE!"

Harry suddenly, red-face, knelt on the floor and cried. "You were the headmaster of a goddamn school! You weren't supposed to be ridiculous like that! You were supposed to be wise! WISE!"

"I did what you said, listened to the wise old grandfather, and look where it got us! Me insane, practically, and you Dead. Dead, is such a brutal sounding word, isn't it?"

Harry was back to yelling again. "Dead, is what you had to go and be! And leave me, Alone, to find the Horcruxes. Left me with no leads, nothing to go on! Hermione and Ron insist on coming, and they think you left me prepared! Like I know exactly what to go and do! And you know what else I hate?"

"YOU MADE IT SO I'M GOING TO GET ALL THE CREDIT FOR WINNING THIS GODDANG WAR WHEN IT WAS ALL YOUR PLANNING. YOU KNOW I HATE ATTENTION!" Harry was getting exceptionally irrational now, and words were flying out of his mouth at an alarming rate.

"I HATE MY LIFE! I WISH I COULD HAVE NEVR BEEN BORN, BECAUSE IT'S BEEN PAIN AND SORROW THIS WHOLE GODDAMN TIME! I'LL FINISH YOUR LAST BEQUEST, FINISH SODDING VOLDEMORT, AND IF ANYONE'S DEAD IM COMMITTING SUICIDE, AND I'LL MURDER YOU IN THE DEATH REALM, BECAUSE IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!"

Harry collapsed on the ground weeping.

"And you know what the irony of the whole thing is, old man? I loved you. Like you were my friendly grandfather, who was always there. All the way up until fifth year you were always there, and then you weren't. But it killed you too, to see me hurt like that. But you were trying to save me. So, I think you loved me to. You've said as much. You cared about me too much. But is it possible too care too much? No. It's called love, and it's beautiful."

"And in 6th year? You gently lead me to my death. Or what might be, helping me kill Horcruxes. I might die in the final battle. I'm pretty sure I will. I'm also sure you only did so because I asked to. God you messed up." He said this while intertwining R.A.B.'s locket between his fingers. "But the irony?"

"I love you, manipulatory old man. I love you."

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But Dumbledore's portrait wasn't asleep. After Harry had cleaned himself up and left the office, Dumbledore's portrait wept quietly. For Harry was right, about messing up and wanting him to be strong. And loving him like a grandson. He hurt the one he loved most, and he would never forgive himself.

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Big thanks to my beta, Blackened-Downpour. You're all timely about stuff, it's nice. :)

Got this from watching the 6th movie. It just begged to be written. Don't know where it came from.