He had been on his way back to the dungeons, the angry knot in his chest redoubled by the fresh frustration of another day with no sign or word from Harry. He was in the middle of a familiar mental argument, imagining all the things he would say to Harry the next time he saw him. These imagined confrontations had become gradually less angry, and increasingly heartbroken. More crying, and less shouting. The anticipation was starting to kill him though - the not knowing when or where they would have the grand confrontation he had built up inside of his head.