Zabini had sat next to her at the last Slug Club dinner, and fetched her fork for her after she’d dropped it under the table. Nott had noticed her absence in Arithmancy, and brought her a copy of his notes to the following class. Even Malfoy—as complicated as their past is—had stopped sneering every time they made eye contact in the hallways. Baby steps, but unexpected ones. Considering the sides they’d all sat on less than a year ago. Draco’s alliances had been clear, and Nott’s father had died in Azkaban a matter of months ago. She can only speculate on Zabini’s position in the war, but she doubts it had been a walk in the park.