Knocking on the door, he said, was more honorable than simply bursting into her home or appearing in her fireplace. Giving her the privacy she needed, he said, was more upstanding than forcing his company on her when unwanted.

My eyes don’t leave Draco’s thin face, and I marvel at the silvery white of his hair and eyebrows and eyelashes, itching to touch them, but death won’t allow me; I have respect for the dead.

Even as I gaped in horror, Ginny emitted a happy giggle, one that I had not heard in years. How had none of us noticed? How much more to their story was there?