Disclaimer: HP/SS implied a little drabble. Full credit to JKR, unbeta. Adult Harry.

War Does That

By WittchWay

Harry's POV

I lean casually against the door jam.

Watching him for the hundredth time lecture a class that he has no flair for. He lets his class run to long and if I didn't show up and stand in the back of the class an half hour early, with my arms over my chest, it would go on for another hour at least.

There's no arguing with the man.

He would just bark that he had so much to teach them. After all Hogwarts was not the same school it once was.

Its what war does.

Changes careers, lives, opinions.

War does that.

It changes people.

Though he is still a pretentious arsehole. Stubborn, opinionated, willful, wit that can sour milk, a bite that will leave a permanent mark.

He glances up at me as I make a big show of crossing my arms and he smirks.

He lectures about Dumbledore as if he had been a God, and in his eyes he most likely was. Though the man is dead now and has been for months.

War does that as well.

It makes the ones you love die.

It makes the ones that survive regret.

He clutches the podium with his one hand as he makes his point about great wizards, great battles, great defeats.

The students fidget.

Glancing at the clock on the wall.

Some have their school bags packed already. Others have their books closed and ready to make the dash to the next class.

Some dare to glance back at me, as if asking for help.

But I say nothing, avoiding eye contact with them.

I take another look at the man.

A permanent look of sleeplessness has settled on his face. It will never leave, its simply a new feature I must get use to.

His face is tanner then it once was.

He's taller then most. Taller then I'm usually attracted to.

His beak like nose is healing from a recent break and is bluish in color.

His hair is shorter now… then it was before the war.

Its clean yet its not.

I hear him growl as a student dares to raise his hand. I once would have feared for the students life but that is no longer the case.

He has more patience now. At least as much as war can give you.

"Dismissed," he scowls, ignoring the student. He knows already what the question was.

The students rush by in silence, the door bursts open as they exit filling the room with the noise of the other students already in the hall.

Hogwarts not the same school it once was.

Not by half.

War does that.

It changes the landscape.

It takes the grand and seemingly indestructible and destroys it.

It takes twisted towers and crumbles them in heaps of rubble.

It takes dungeons and subbasements and floods them.

It takes grand staircases, that lead to no where now and freezes them in place.

He limps towards me now, his own school bag slung over his shoulder. The bag is filled with books he will teach from later in the day. Other classrooms, other subjects.

There's not many of us left.

His black eyes are trained on me. His hand, the one he has left, touches my cheek. Touches the wisp of hair that fall into my eyes.

I shut them as he leans closer and brushes his lips against mine. My head tilts automatically toward his. A prodding tongue swirls its way around mine. I moan with need, desire, without thought.

"Till tonight professor Potter," he whispers pulling away. Limping pass me. I watch him move slowly down the corridor. The only corridor left.

I smile touching my lips.

War does that.

It makes you cherish what you have.

What might not be there tomorrow.

It takes away past memories.

Changing them from that moment to this moment.

It changes what should have been and makes what you never thought possible happen instead.

The End