            The walls and flooring here were of similar, rich design, though instead of feeding into a single length of hallway, the corridor quickly opened up into what she assumed was the front area of the manor. Marble tiles stretched beneath Hermione’s tennis shoes, gleaming so brilliantly she could see their reflection floating beneath her. She had hardly a moment to peer at the vast collection of gold-framed portraits and centuries-old, jewel-toned furniture before Lucius was leading her up one side of a mahogany, curved staircase. At the top, she caught a glimpse of a closed door. Indistinct, if she hadn’t felt the taint of dark magic emanating from it. Hermione stiffened and looked sharply away. She wanted nothing to do with the manor’s drawing room, nor her memories there...or the gaunt, Death Eater wizard who once occupied it.