And he knew from the beginning, from the day Draco brought her home, hurt and wounded, that there was something dark about her; something he couldn’t really explain or rationalise but something that would nag him, hide in the back of his head, keeping him alert in her presence all the time. The looks she would sometimes give him made his skin crawl and even though he knew she saw a lot of terrible things—that a lot of terrible things had happened to her during the war, there was no excuse for the way she looked at him. It felt like she was always watching him, guarding Draco like the Goblins guarded treasures at Gringotts. Reminiscing that, he realised he should’ve known better. But he was tainted too, marked by death. How could he judge her?