The cellar was different now. Extra beds and dressers separated by screens segmented the big room, and the lighting was brighter. Draco’s corner was, to be fair, the biggest private area – Lupin had made sure of that, at least. His bed, his table with its two rickety chairs, the pile of board games on the dresser, and a book on the bed. A book on the bed? That hadn’t been there when he had left on the mission this afternoon. Draco tromped over, mud flaking off his boots, and stared down at it, frowning. Time Enough For Love, by Robert A. Heinlein.