He didn’t understand the Gryffindors. Brave to a fault and no ounce of self-preservation. It was then that he realized he wasn’t angry with her, appalled she let the grubby man hold her hostage for so long, but no. His anger was with himself. He pushed everyone away after the war and his trial. He had Theo and Blaise, but their friendships were tenuous at best. Surface level conversations and nights spent drinking and playing cards. He appreciated his friends and looked forward to their meetings, but he didn’t have anyone in his life, besides his mother, who would have done what Granger did for her friends. He didn’t know how she planned to get to them if the raid went south, but he was jealous of Potter and Weasley and the lengths this blazing, beautiful women in front of him would go to make sure they were alive and safe.