Harry. [ it's breathed out softly and it sounds like a prayer. maybe it is. there's something so strange about how he's treating her, like she's a ghost - and she files the information away for later. she won't touch on it now. not when he's right here before her.

he's almost as old as her - there are still a few years there of course but not many and it makes an ache sit in her chest. she reaches out unconsciously to brush his hair back, frowning when she sees the scar - but she doesn't ask him about it. she knows better. she just flicks her gaze to look at him, to acknowledge him, to show she sees it and cares as she tucks his hair back and--it stays, somehow, maybe it's practice with james' hair, maybe it's literal magic. ]

Gryffindor's a good house. I'd be proud of you in any one, though. Do you play Quidditch? [ there's a strange tremor in her voice and she pauses to compose herself, taking a shaking breath. ] Sorry. I'm--sorry. I just... Look at you, you're wonderful.