Laughter spills from the mouth basked in shadows and darkness, low and raspy. He doesn’t move an inch, but still she can feel his presence everywhere—as though he had already taken residence not only in her mind, but her home too. "Very well, Hermione Granger," the way her name—not  princess  or  little human  —rolls off his tongue sends a shiver down her spine, but she suppresses it, if only to maintain  some  resemblance of control. "I accept the terms of your bargain."