AN: I am so ashamed. So very long without an update, without being to write anything and all I have for you is this. Short little thing it is. But do not fear, school is out and all those evil EOCs and Finals are finished so I have a few sweet weeks between now and Summer classes at the college to write on this. At least next chapter will begin the two major plot turns and, finally, the begining of Prussia's revenge. Also to the reviewer who asked about where Italy got married, the Pope owed him a favor/likes him and Romano was there and despite being religious was not above threatening His Holiness. The Pope decided since they were nations they techniquely didn't have a gender despite what their bodies have and besides he really didn't want to get shot. Also didn't know that, so thanks for the information I might need that for another story. And if that explanation doesn't work for you think of it this way in the books Rowling mentions Dudley having a Playstation before they were invented and the Minister is a male when in reality at the time there was a female so Harry Potter world doen't have to be with our actual politics exactly to still be right.

Arthur Kirkland and the Job

Chapter Eight

When Prussia opened his eyes he swore he smelled blood. But then quick flashes of memory returned and the next thing he knew he was hanging off a bed vomiting. A pan seemed to appear out of nowhere and Prussia heaved into it, eyes burning with blurring tears. He felt a weight shift on the bed and then a warm hand stroked his back comfortingly, pushing back his hair and wiping his face with a damp rag. Prussia couldn't even feel shame at someone seeing him like this he was so absorbed in his misery and the sights and memories that damned creature had brought to the surface. He leaned against the warm weight of whoever was nursing him and kept heaving even though his stomach was empty. Without him realizing it his heaving turned into sobbing and that comforting hand allowed him to fall in their lap.

It wasn't until he was done, spent physically and emotionally that Prussia realized the person who'd been comforting him had been mumbling to him softly, meaningless quiet babble meant to assure. Words you'd say to a sick child.

Prussia pulled himself up and scooted away as soon as he realized it, pride stinging and shame making him hot and red faced. Prussia stared at England silently, for once completely lost for words. England quietly handed him the damp rag he'd used on him and Prussia took it, shakily beginning to clean himself not meeting the green gaze that never wavered from his face.

When he'd finished, England took it without a word and the pan Prussia had vomited in, reeking bitterly of vomit, and disappeared through the white curtains keeping the bed Prussia occupied hidden. Prussia frowned as he recognized where he was. Twice in one week he'd fainted and been sent to the hospital because of memories. Damn, he was losing his touch. But even as his hurt pride started to rear its head and shame at his weakness, it was all he could do not to keep replaying the horrors he'd seen before he fainted.

If he didn't focus on something anything soon, he'd be pulled back into his nightmares. On that battle field when Holy Rome fell. Smell the blood and see his brother's broken small body. Know it was his fault. Only, unlike in reality, Holy Rome wouldn't wake up scared and empty. No his brother wouldn't move no matter how much Prussia screamed. Prussia gripped the sheets panic bubbling in him as the memories started to worm back in. He could so vividly see that last moment with Germany right before the allies found them. Prussia had been running all over the city searching for him that day and found Germany alone starring out the window at Berlin looking like he was being burned alive. Prussia had been forced to watch his brother sob and confess his worst sins, curse his weakness for not being able to stop Hitler. Germany had felt so guilty, it had killed him and in his guilt he almost killed himself. In Prussia's nightmares he didn't get to Germany in time, he wasn't able to get the gun away and he saw his little brother shoot himself, smell the blood and know yet again he'd killed something he loved.

"Drink this it should help a bit." a voice ordered quietly, but firmly and Prussia looked up relieved to be dragged back to the present to see the very pale England holding out a small brown cup to him. Prussia took it, noting silently that England looked just as weak and sick as Prussia felt. Prussia downed it quickly, but instantly recoiled at the taste. Something almost like amusement flickered in England's eyes for a moment, but quickly died leaving him solemn faced leaning on the bed railing at the foot of Prussia's bed. Prussia finished his 'medicine' and was surprised to find his nausea disappear, along with much of his nervous energy. The memories also seemed to fade to the back of his mind, leaving him empty and cold, but, blessedly, free of them for the moment.

"What is it?" Prussia asked England. The blonde didn't answer at first taking Prussia's empty cup and setting on the small table beside the bed. Then he settled on the bed and looked the Prussian over sharply. Seeming to decide Prussia wouldn't keel over anytime soon he spoke.

"No idea, the Potions Professor made it. It tastes like shit, but it works." England said. The albino snorted.

"Understatement Eyebrows." England's lip twitched to an almost smile, which after a minute Prussia returned.

They sat for a moment in silence and Prussia realized maybe England wasn't a total bastard. Not that he was forgiven. Prussia was still totally gonna get him back. But it would be with some comraderie, and as his brother, Spain, and France could atest, Prussia liking you only guaranteed pay back meant he put more effort in.

After all putting time in showed he cared.

...

By the end of the day everyone had heard of the Boggart and the unexpected trip to the Hospital Wing, where the two men were still being kept by a very fierce Madam Pomfrey. Even the slight undercurrent of amusement over Snape in drag didn't distract the student population of Hogwarts from talking about Professor Kirkland and Gilbert. In the Gryffindor Common Room, by the fire Hogwarts' infamous Trio was also discussing the events of today.

"Kirkland's got it rough. Wife and dad dead, and his kid hating him. Wonder why Beilschmidt's scared of dust though? I guess the people were close to him, but why dust?" Ron said looking sympathetic to the losses though clearly perplexed by the other fear. Hermione, who'd been focused on a book Harry wasn't quite sure was even English, looked up at Ron for the first time in the past hour and rolled her eyes.

"He isn't afraid of dust. He's afraid of dying." Hermione said and then focused on Harry brown eyes concerned. "Is something wrong Harry? You've been rather quiet."

Harry jumped a little and nodded. "I'm fine, just thinking."

About Gilbert, he thought feeling oddly guilty. Hermione's eyes lingered on him a moment longer, sharp and searching, but was instantly distracted when Ron leaned over to try and sneak a peek at her mystery book. With his perceptive friend distracted Harry relaxed. He'd thought his thoughts about Gilbert were supposed to stop after that necklace was gone, but so far no such luck. Harry felt tongue-tied and hot every time he was near him, he couldn't stop staring at him, he found himself eavesdropping every time Gilbert's name came up in a conversation, and thoughts of him would not go away. Harry felt like he was going insane. What was going on? He asked himself one more time looking into the Gryffindor fireplace and the happily crackling fire within mournfully.

...

"What do you really know about the boy, Albus?" Minerva McGonagall snapped eyes fierce, her entire stance giving the impression of a lioness about to rip some poor unfortunate animals throat out. Unfortunately for Albus Dumbledore it seemed today he was the object of his Deputy's ire. It was a position he was familiar with and it was always unpleasant for the victim of the Scottish witch's temper. Especially when she was feeling protective.

"I would also like to know." the smooth cool voice of Severus Snape concurred, his black as flashing his lean dark figure standing resolutely beside Minerva in a rare moment of agreement. Where Minerva was a lioness Severus was a dark coiled serpent ready to strike at anything that got too close to his nestlings.

Albus sighed softly, as much as he preferred Severus and Minerva getting along they only ever allied with each other when they wanted to oppose him. Minerva was unrelenting when she argued with him and Severus was not beyond playing dirty when he felt it was necessary as long as it didn't go to far, because beneath it all Severus Snape was a deeply honorable man. Together though they were a forced to be reckoned with.

"I've spoken with Arthur's grandfather and he has assured me of both their characters, I've also taken the opportunity to glance into both of their minds and I felt loss and sadness. I do not think we should hold a tragic past against these young men. They have done nothing to make cause for any suspicion. And until they do such I see no reason for you to be so hostile towards them." Albus said firmly hoping that would be the end of it.

"You're evading the question." Severus said eyes narrowing and voice dripping with accusation. Minerva glared at him so fiercely he had to fight the urge to flinch.

Of course they couldn't leave it at that. That would have been too easy though. Albus sighed realizing he would have to give in, just a little and reached into his desk to get to files. Minerva looked curious and Severus eyes them sharply. Albus calmly opened them to reveal pictures of both men, pictures in their respective matching files. Minerva actually looked stunned, though Severus seemed approving.

"You have files on them." Minerva said looking amazed, but quickly shaking it off and following Severus's lead to get a closer look. Albus calmly pulled the files to him not allowing his Deputy and spy to read them.

"He has files on us all." Severus said lightly, looking put out at being prevented from reading them. Albus examined him sharply. It was true, of course, but only himself, and possibly Fawkes, knew about those.

"The point of my showing you these are that I know enough to give these boys my trust." Albus said instantly, wishing to diverge their attention before Minerva could focus on the fact he was keeping a secret file on not only her, but all of her coworkers. "Now what questions do you have?"