He'd spotted her as soon as he walked into the room, of course. Had tried (unsuccessfully) to not stare at her as he greeted Pansy, Theo and Blaise. She hadn't looked at him, though he was certain that she was aware of his presence. He'd watched her out of the corner of his eye as he avoided Astoria's lips and Daphne's hug, had taken in all of her as he stood there, pretending (for all who might have noticed) that she didn't exist. But he'd been watching, observing, taking notes. She looked... fucking amazing, honestly. The same smooth skin, the same big brown eyes. The same tiny stature that seemed too damn small to contain her personality, her power. But... there was something missing. Something off. And she was almost painfully thin, and he couldn't tell, didn't know, if it was by choice or if she was sick. The thought had made him panic before he brutally squashed it. Not his business. He wanted to know about this missing core thing, that was it. What was wrong with her, or not wrong with her, wasn't on his mind. Not at all. Her hair was so long, falling to her waist in loose, chocolatey waves that filled him with a nostalgia so strong it was borderline painful. He longed to run his fingers through it, to see if it was as soft as he remembered. Again, he had brutally squashed the thought. Not his to touch. She'd made sure of that. She wouldn't look at him, not even a glance. She drifted around the room, always just far enough away that he couldn't see her eyes. He had started to relax, to remember his goal of cornering a drunk Theo and getting some answers. Had started to believe that he would get through the evening without having to face her.