When she turned to look at him, she didn’t look like a battle-torn, raging warrior, clinging to the last scrap of her fraying sanity. She didn’t look like she was a conquering warlord displaying trophies. She looked like a girl, snow clinging to her eyelashes. The golden sparks around her were the rain pattering on her shield charm, which had been cast so closely and perfectly that it resembled a second skin of shimmering gold. He didn’t need to perform Occlumency to know that her thoughts were a myriad of swirling purples and violets. 