He can still see it in his mind as clear as if he were viewing it in a pensieve. It is easier in the dark. The day that she brought him down the tray of Mrs Weasley's delicious home cooked lunch. It is so clear in his mind. He had been huddled in a corner feeling loathsome and defeated and she had come and spoken his name with worry in her voice, and he had felt the poisonous sting of gratitude – for her having kept her word, and for the kindness in her voice when she spoke his name. She had tried to be kind to him, and the awkwardness had been palpable in the air, but he had been too sunk in self-loathing to care.