Draco sighed again, leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees, head bowed into his palms. "When I look at her... I see the girl she was at fifteen, fighting with me over whether or not I thought she was beautiful. I see the woman who, after learning that I was marked, sat on the floor with me and cried her heart out. I see the person who stayed with me through some of the absolute worst moments of my life, and never faltered. I see her dancing with me in the rose arbor before our lives went to hell, laughing at something my mother said, running through the Manor library because she didn't know what book to pick first." Draco paused, lifting his head to gaze out at the gardens and Blaise took the moment of silence to consider. He had no memories like that of her. She'd been closer to Theo than with him at Hogwarts, after she and Draco had gotten together, and he'd never seen her as anything other than furiously studious. He'd had next to no contact with her during Sixth year, as Draco had made it clear they were all to leave her well enough alone. Then there'd been the war and she'd disappeared. He had no memories of her outside the serious, mysterious woman he'd met and bedded in Verona. He could probably count on one hand the times he'd heard her laugh. Couldn't remember ever dancing with her or sharing anything more than a passing lighthearted moment.