            She and Sirius had been friends, but never close. He had seen her, though. Those grey eyes that often sparkled in the years after Azkaban had a way of understanding anyone they turned to. Sirius could listen with his eyes. He could understand without needing to hear one word. Sirius had seen her, and oh how she wished to feel that warm gaze again. To meet his eyes, to have a hand drop heavily on her shoulder. Pulling her closer into a chest of bone and beating heart. To be told in that low murmur that she would be okay, because he had been okay. No man like that deserved to be stolen by Death.