She got up from the table, keeping her elbows tucked in, her chin jutting out. Lonely, sad, hurt, but not defeated and certainly not lost. Ignoring her retreating back, Weasley was, it was generally agreed, yet again being repulsive with some long haired Gryffindor. His hands were everywhere. It would have been impressive if it wasn’t so embarrassing. Potter sat next to the couple staring into his cup morosely.