When the door clicked back into place and he was alone once more, Loki cast one last look out into the star filled sky, hoping Hermione was well and that one day she may forgive him for seemingly abandoning her. Reentering his bedchamber, he moved to the ornate wardrobe, extracting his traveling cloak, the fur lined fabric meant to stave off the bitter cold of Jotunheim. He hardly ever felt the cold anymore, his despair cold enough to keep him in his Jotun form easily. He pulled the garment around his shoulders before glancing in the mirror inside the wardrobe. Red eyes glowered back at him from amidst his cerulean face.