"How do you bear it?" Neville asked Pansy Parkinson a month later, when they were making the rounds around the manor one day, walking around the place for having nothing better to do at the moment. They were in the library now and the last of that evening’s sunset had long faded and the lamps were on, bathing the huge room in a warm yellow light. The painter had gone for the day but his workstation remained, that huge and finished portrait of Lord Malfoy watching them from its location, newly varnished and still drying, placed by the open window.