Ange couldn't help but roll her eyes at the mention of 'MILF'. He was right though - it would be so much easier to send him back to bed and deal with this alone. When it had happened with George, Angelina had usually just clung to him and cried silently until she fell back asleep. He'd never really pressed her because he had them too. Hell, they probably all had them. The flashes of death, the what ifs, the reliving each and every funeral. It was something that Angelina couldn't shake, as bad as she wanted to.
For a moment, Angelina stayed silent. She was going to have to tell him what 'what' was, as much as she didn't want to. Ange sighed and let her head fall on her chest. There were few things that Angelina couldn't look someone in the eye and tell them; this was one of them.
"The... nightmares, night terrors, whatever you want to call them. Since the war. At first I thought it was just grieving Fred, but I'm pretty sure it's guilt. Guilt that I didn't do more, and I don't even know what I did. It was so dark, I don't even know who I was hitting with spells." She could have easily injured someone on her own side, and Angelina hated not knowing. Her body began to shake as she slowly started to remember all the other versions of her dreams. All the versions she'd done her best to suppress but had never really talked about.