This part of the dungeon extended beneath the lake, giving the space a green-ish tinge; lanterns hung from the ceiling on tarnished chains, and a fire crackled softly within an elaborately carved mantelpiece. A dozen low backed, leather chairs framed an old Kashan rug, and, it was there that she caught sight of the object of her desire. The soft emerald glow reflected off Draco’s blonde hair, forming shadows around him, and the sight was nearly angelic. Hermione’s breath hitched—her angel, she thought.