George would always tell her how her eyes illuminated when she was happy, full of wonder and joy. He would watch her entire face light up when she walked into the great hall, the glitter of a thousand candles reflected in her smile. A mug of butterbeer shared with friends in the colder months, her laughter bubbling up like the hot drink. The corners of her eyes would crease up, the steam swirling around to frame her face. Dark winding passageways, only lit up with the tip of a wand, the light not even reaching the tall ceilings. They would dodge quickly around a corner, hiding from Filch, her hands covering her mouth not to give them away with her laugh. He would see her eyes filled with joy before he whispered a spell, making the little light disappear. Shrouding them in darkness. The wind would make her hair flutter around as she rose, steadily, on her broomstick. A smirk on her lips, daring him to try and be faster than her. He had seen mischief in her eyes many times, he could tell if she was up to something just by studying her face. George didn't know when he had started noticing these things, but Fred reckoned it was when he started to fall in love with her. He couldn't really deny it, either.