What drew them from the forest, he didn't know. But something caused them to rise, to circle the treetops and hover over the lake, before returning once more to their home in the woods.
Ever since the beginning of fifth year, he had stood watching the thestrals that lived in the forest. With all of the events that had occurred over the summer, watching the thestrals seemed to be the only way for him to relax. That was ironic, of course, since they frightened him severely whenever he was close to one.
But they had an odd beauty to them. Meant for those who had seen death, and yet never experienced it. To watch someone die in order to view this beings was not the most pleasant reward he could think of, but it was something.
The horses moved with a grace and fierceness that he envied. He knew those were talents he'd never possess. His grandmother had told him so often enough. He would never be like his father, or his mother, or even Harry Potter and his friends. He had never been meant for great things, and knowing this, he didn't expect them. He had come to terms with what he was.
But she seemed to see something different. They'd been watching the thestrals together since the third DA meeting, when she'd suddenly joined him at the window, and never really said anything. But the feeling was there, from the way she looked at him when he was feeling worthless.
And now he suspected that she had some inner sight that she didn't realize was there, or that she underestimated. For she'd known long before he that he would be able to fight, and fight well enough to help, despite his clumsiness.
But he never thanked her for it, not in words. And not in the way he would have liked to. He simply watched the thestrals with her every night, and wondered what else she saw.