Disclaimer- Harry ain't mine, or his dreams would be way stranger.
Like most Auror recruits on a Friday night, Harry sat in a pub and stared into the murky depths of a drink that was hopefully alcoholic. Certainly looked it. Harry couldn't taste it anymore.
Most of the others were contemplating their week.
Harry was thinking more about Life in general.
They were thinking about the bruises they got sparring. Mostly losing to Harry and the teachers, but what do you expect of a kid who had to face the maniac?
Harry was thinking about how many times his life had nearly been lost, even after reashing the hospital wing.
Maybe the auror's were contemplating life as they knew it, in terms of the glory they would get.
Harry was thinking more along the lines of how long he would last at the job before he would lose enough friends that he'd sink back into the depression he had barely pulled himself out of.
They were probably thinking about the girls they'd get soon.
Harry was thinking about the love of his life. Who had died.
They were thinking about the money they'd get.
Harry was thinking about the blood they'd trade for it.
No one ever accused Harry of being optimistic. And the others didn't want to be the first.
So the others joked and laughed and bragged and smiled.
Harry sat in a corner, back to the wall, door right in front, and contemplated the future in the bottom of the cup of liquid. Maybe sometime he'll drink the cup and find a new future in a new cup. Or maybe a new liquid.