He was on the couch, illuminated by firelight, with a drink in his hand. The blank expression on his face was uncannily similar to the first night of school, when he had saved hundreds of wands from being snapped, hoarding them protectively in order to reunite them with their owners. It had been the simple motion of him throwing back his drink that caught her eye, but now he only swirled the amber liquid in his glass. He was not a handsome man, and yet in these moments, she couldn’t help but think how attractive he was. How vulnerable. Beautiful, almost. 